For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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F O U R T Y - S E V E N , A E M O N D
And every time, every time you go It's like a knife that cuts right to my soul ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"My child has not yet been born and already my half-sister thinks she has a right to engage one of her bastard sons to her?" Aemond scoffed, grabbing the letter his wife had been holding only moments ago. His eye scanned the carefully written lines once more, before pouting in dismay and tearing the parchment into two equal pieces. "It will not happen, none of her ridiculous demands."
"Obviously, my King," Otto Hightower stated, folding his hands together on the table. He regarded Aemond with a calculated stare, a plan undoubtedly already forming in his head. "Rhaenyra has set these terms, so that she may show that it was not her who started the war that will undoubtedly follow if we reject this proposal. However, she knows we will not bend to these demands. She is cooking something up."
"Undoubtedly," Aemond replied, his eye taking in the reactions of the Small Council. He was worried for Daella and their child growing inside of her. It had been his wish to not involve her in this meeting at all, to gift her all the rest and peace she needed, but he knew that his wife was about the strongest-headed woman he knew and she would never forgive him if he ruled her out merely because she was with child.
Just as Lord Wylde was about to open his mouth to involve himself in the discussion as well, a roar so loud and powerful that it shook the foundations of the Small Council chambers could be heard. All looked to the window at once, surprised to see the mighty black beast Daella had managed to bind to her standing on top of the bride from the North Tower to the West Tower with his head raised and his jaws wide in a screech that hurt everybody's ears.
"That beast is better off dead," Lord Lannister muttered, his mouth twisted in a grimace.
Aemond watched the Cannibal turn his head, clawing over the stones of the bridge and ruining it in the process, before he let out another wail as though the great beast himself was in pain. "Daella," he whispered to himself, a sudden sensation of dread washing over him. His head snapped back to his Small Council so fast he could feel the muscles in his neck strain and clenching his hands to fists, Aemond rose from his chair. "My wife, the Queen, I want her found and returned to my side immediately."
"Aemond, what is it?" Alicent asked, placing a gentle hand on his wrist.
Aemond ignored his mother and gave a nod to ser Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who left the room at once to assemble the rest of the knights. The man had not been away for a mere second, when his voice called out for the King again, at the same time that another man rushed into the Small Council's chambers, bowing deeply.
