The ones she had lost and the ones she had found - Aemma Arryn I
“The Great Council of 101 BC was a turbulent year in the history of the Targaryen family, servants whispered that this was the year when the mutual enmity of Prince Daemon and the future Queen Alicent began. It is also said that this was the year that the Prince found the only thing he wanted and couldn't have.
Since then, the jabs exchanged between the Prince and Queen were infamous, and it was never known whether the two were friends or enemies.”
- Tyrion Lannister, Master of Coin to Myrcella Lannister, second daughter of Lady Cersei Lannister, Lady Warden of the West.
Aemma knows that no one pays much attention to her presence, and she knows that it makes it all too easy to sneak into dark corners and overhear conversations she shouldn't.
Not that Aemma is one of those people who uses the gossip she hears for anything, she just likes to have the information and know things no one else does, it's one of those sick childhood pleasures she's never been able to overgrow.
Then the Grand Council takes place at Harrenhal and things get interesting, she is, for the first time in her life, considering the possibility of becoming a real Queen. Honestly, what little girl never dreamed of being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and ruling alongside her brave and handsome King?
But then she wed Viserys, when she was ten and one name days old and she was scarcely ten and two name days old when the first child of her womb was born, and the Seven be merciful, but she hated Viserys and that accursed child that she made.
Sometimes his touch on her skin gave her goosebumps and made her stomach churn and she had to fight back the urge to throw up and scream at Viserys to take his hands off her, but then Rhaenyra was born and it wasn't that hard to like him anymore.
She doesn't love him, she thinks she will never be able to, but they have a mutual understanding and both love the daughter they brought into the world and promised to love her until the end of their lives. And that is enough for Aemma to be happy.
— Do you think we'll see dragons, Uthon? — A female voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and Aemma looks toward the fountain, the Hightower tower soaring in the flags that surround the green tents spread out in the area allotted for the Reach.
Aemma has heard of Alicent Hightower, and the stories are conflicting at best, some say she is half Northern and others say she was a bastard to one of King Jaehaerys' sons.
Contrary to popular belief, Lady Alicent is just a girl of ten and three, with big brown eyes, long, curly hair that fall loose on her back, wearing a bluish dress that leaves her shoulders sunburnt. Her face is freckled across the line of her nose, which demonstrates high activity in the sun. She looks happy as she smiles at one of her brothers.
She is a very pretty girl, even if her curls are untidy and her face has a fatness reminiscent of childhood and her dress has splashes of mud and Aemma can see that the boots she wears are riding boots, not boots suitable for the refined dress.
The black horse snorting beside her also completes the picture of pure childish rebelliousness, so, Aemma thinks with amusement, the horse rumors are true, how scandalous.
— Of course we'll see dragons, Ali, they're Targaryens, they can't shit without a dragon around. — her brother, Uthon, if she's right, replies, his lips twisted in a smirk.
Aemma puts her hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing at her brother's joke, indeed it's true, Viserys' chamber pot has a very poor imitation of Balerion carved into the handle.
— Beware, brother, perhaps Prince Daemon cuts out your tongue for profaning such slurs about them. — The girl's voice trembles with amusement and Aemma wants to laugh, Daemon is offended by the most childish things, even if they are true.
— Well, at least the blade will be famous. — Uthon answers and the siblings burst out laughing, and for a moment Aemma is jealous of them, she misses the easy companionship she had with her cousins and friends in the Vale. After her marriage, all that was left for her was the pit of vipers, otherwise known as the Red Keep and every one of her ladies trying to get into Viserys's breeches.
Aemma wants to hear more from the siblings, but they start moving across the yard, leading the horses towards her and she forces herself to leave, it never feels good to be caught gossiping, even if it's harmless.
She doesn't think about the conversation for the rest of the day, she is too distracted, trying to dissuade Rhaenyra's antics and trying to convince herself that her support should be given to Viserys and not Rhaenys, the two main competitors in this great farce.
It's not that Aemma doesn't like the idea of her husband being King, but Rhaenys should be the Queen on the Iron Throne, she's smart as a whip, she has an intimidating aura that makes people listen to her simply because she's her, and of course, Meleys, a fucking dragon who nearly make her shit herself when she first saw her.
And all Viserys has is a party spirit, no dragons, the court intelligence of a ten-name-day boy and a cock.
She knows that the second great quarrel of the two greatest rulers that ever lived occurred because the King refused to recognize Rhaenys as heir, even though she was, in fact, the heir.
Aemma also knows that Viserys and Daemon have formed a plan to gain allies, and she hopes that everything works out, because Daemon has a reputation that Viserys only dreams of achieving, and Viserys also knows that at some point, Daemon was considered the second coming of Aegon and now there's talk that he is Maegor's second coming, not to his face, ever, of course.
As expected, Daemon arrives with a roar, Caraxes casting shadows across Harrenhal, making himself appear much larger than he actually is, the flames that circle the air more display than it's worth.
It still doesn't take away the danger from the Bloodworm when he lands, Caraxes is an abominable thing, as ugly as his nickname suggests, the dragon's long neck peeks out from behind Daemon, his spines looking more bristly than they have any right to be, large golden eyes looking like puddles of liquid fire.
Caraxes has always seemed to walk on his belly, scraping his long claws into the ground and leaving furrows in his wake, his slender body looking more like a snake than a dragon, he walked as if he didn't care about the damage he made, just like Daemon.
The courtyard is silent, people staring at Caraxes anxiously, Daemon looks around the crowd, his purple eyes appraising and malicious, he looks a lot like the Conqueror now, dashing and attractive and dangerous, mostly dangerous.
Aemma knows that many people have come here expecting a Targaryen marriage and a chance to get closer to the throne, but all the Targaryens available right now are a four-name-day girl, and two half-Targaryens barely out of their mother's skirts.
— It's so ugly it hurts. — The voice is barely louder than a whisper, but both Caraxes and Daemon hear it, as they look with predatory eyes toward the crowd and Aemma's heart races in her chest.
Daemon is not cruel, except when he wants to be, but Caraxes is like the babe in his bosom, even if his weight is indescribable by human nature and he is a fire-breathing flying beast, a beast created perfectly for war.
Daemon's face breaks into a smirk, and Aemma fears for the person who uttered those words, just as she fears - even for a brief moment - that Viserys will lose the Grand Council because of his brother's recklessness.
— Who was stupid enough to utter such words? — Daemon asks, and the courtyard once more falls silent, the Prince's hand on his sword, Dark Sister promising a painful sentence.
— My prince. — and if Aemma found the horse scandalous, she can hardly say anything about Lady Alicent right now, most Lords make a shocked sound when she walks forward and Aemma can't disagree.
Lady Alicent is in her riding leathers, black breeches fitted tightly over her long legs, and boots with a slight heel that set off her thick legs, a white linen shirt with the first few buttons undone, and a black corset over it, her long brown hair piled high on top of her head in a hairstyle Aemma has never seen.
She's beautiful, even if her breasts aren't big enough to fill out her corset.
Daemon looks at her with a spark of interest in his eyes and Aemma doesn't know what to think, on the one hand Daemon is married, on the other hand his marriage is worth little more than Flea Bottom's dirt.
— I should cut your tongue out for such contempt. — Daemon says, unsheathing Dark Sister, the crowd sighs, but Aemma knows he would never do anything, she knows he recognises the girl before him, and nobody wants a war after the most peaceful reign the seven kingdoms have had.
— You cannot cut out the tongues of all who speak the truth. — the girl responds and Daemon smiles back, it's mostly amusement but it's a smile, Caraxes roars, as if he agrees with Daemon in his assessment.
Then the dragon takes flight, slender wings kicking up dust from the ground, ruffling clothes and startling people, Aemma almost stifles a gasp as Daemon turns and strides toward the girl.
She barely keeps her wide eyes from his face when he kisses her cheek.
— You're a very interesting little thing. — Daemon says, that tone reserved only for things he wants badly but knows he'll have a hard time possessing.
Aemma remembers that line for days after that, Daemon and Lady Alicent seem to be in an eternal tussle over anything and everything from the best horse to the color of the sky, and Daemon seems suitably amused by it all.
She doesn't care about the look that grows on Daemon's face, after all, Lady Alicent will return to the Reach at the end of the Great Council and they will see little, if ever, of each other again.
Viserys wins the Grand Council, Aemma's head is spinning: she will be the Queen one day after all, Otto Hightower is chosen as Hand of the King, and Aemma worries.
She doesn't know it at the time, but she shouldn't worry for long, after all, Aemma Arryn will be Queen for a very short reign.