019. The Usurper

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Aemma had awoken fairly early, sickness overcoming her. Hurrying herself to the bathroom, she emptied her stomach, losing all the food she had eaten the night before. She had initially called out for her mother, before slumping down on the wall as she realised she was far from any sort of family. Blaming it on the alcohol she had consumed the night before, she hauled herself to her feet. 

Glancing around her room, she found no servants or maids waiting for her. Heading directly for the door, a knot forming in her stomach, she pulled at them with increasing desperation. They had been locked, leaving her a prisoner in her own chambers. 

"What is going on?" Aemma shouted, banging on the door, "I am Princess Aemma Velaryon, set to inherit Dragonstone. You cannot have me locked up!"

She was met with silence.

"My father will have you burnt for this act," Aemma shouted again, kicking at the door, "Fucking let me out!

Realising she was getting nowhere, she kicked the door one final time before advancing for the window. Pushing it open, she noticed the hurried movements of those below her. Something was happening, something no one wanted Aemma to be knowledgeable about. 

Turning in frustration, she glanced around the room for anything that could help her. 




Sheets were knotted together, surrounding a seated Aemma who frantically checked the knot's strength. Gathering herself to her feet, she gathered some more of her dresses, having run out of bed sheets and other materials, and placed them at the end of the long makeshift rope. She figured the rope would not be long enough to place her on the ground, but she hoped it would get close enough for her to safely jump the rest of it. She knew an empty bedroom was situated directly beneath her. The bedroom that once belonged to Baela. No one would notice her from that room, though it was likely at least one person would notice a woman escaping the Red Keep with a fashionable rope. She just hoped whatever was happening in King's Landing was big enough that it would consume everyone's attention. 

As she began to gather the rope in her arms, the unlocking of a door sounded. Throwing the rope under her bed, she anxiously watched to see who she would be met with.

"Aemond," Aemma sighed, rushing towards him, "What is going on?"

Aemond embraced her, holding her tighter than usual. As she looked up at him, she couldn't mistake the clear look of worry in his eye. Her fingers trailed down his arms, placing themselves in his hands as she watched him. 

"The King... Viserys... is dead," Aemond said, the words unnatural on his tongue. 

Her legs fell out from under her. 

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