Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

FIFTEEN

The preparations for the wedding had taken more than a fortnight and half. I spent most of the time either listening to the septa newly appointed to me by the queen about martial duties and praying with her seven times a day, or having all the seamstresses and tirewomen in King's Landing drape me in swathes of expensive fabrics and flashy gemstones. The routine became quite dull and repetitive after a while. Whenever the septa tried to instruct me about what to expect on my marriage bed and how to behave like a dutiful wife, my heart and mind went straight to Aemond who was forbidden from interacting with me before our wedding day. I had never before felt such longing. With every fiber of my being, I missed Aemond, and with every day that had passed so painfully slow, I missed him more.

It was from my mother that I heard the wedding ceremony would be held in traditional Westerosi style in the sept since the Hightowers of Oldtown absolutely refused to make compromises on this subject matter. But it was also decided that Aemond would swear his blood oath to me right after, pure Valyrian way. Another exciting news was that Aemond and I would go on a progress once we're married, visiting the greatest Houses of Westeros on our dragon backs. It was meant to be a calculated political move, to indicate that multifarious claims to the throne were united, as well as to trumpet the power of our family. Though for me, I just burnt to be with the man I loved.

Every time I prayed, I prayed to the gods to let time flow faster.

The day before my wedding day, servants arrived with bride gifts from Aemond's family, as was the tradition. An enameled silver box was from the king and the queen, laying inside on soft velvet a suite of fine jewelry, breathtakingly crafted necklace, earrings, bracelets and circlet of teardrop-shaped blue sapphires and diamonds mounted on platinum. I thought about Aemond's sapphire eye as I touched the gems with gentle fingers, and my heart ached for him yet again. Aegon had sent me a massive trunk filled with fine wines. But I was not a drinker so most likely they would end up in Daemon's belly. A lavishly illustrated and gold-leaf covered The Seven-Pointed Star was a gift from Otto, whether I should be grateful he had the grace to send anything at all or I should be offended he sent me a text condemning incest was unsure even to myself. Daeron gifted me books too, very rare volumes of higher mysteries. These I was sure I would love.

When I opened Helaena's gift, I gasped a little.

Carefully I picked up and cradled the dragon egg against my chest as I would a delicate infant. The egg was as beautiful as Dreamfyre was, pale blue streaked with bright silver. While I had my own access to dragon eggs, both Syrax and Silverwing produced clutches regularly, I knew how guarded the queen was when it came to theirs, and Helaena's offer was beyond generous. When I caressed the tiny scales on the surface of the shell, I imagined a most perfect little girl, hair silver laced with gold, eyes as blue as a summer sea, skin as smooth and pale as winter snow, and I thought I knew just the name for her.

Last of all, Aemond's bride gift came.

My jaw dropped as I ran my fingers over the dark ripply metal. It was a simple, elegant piece, a breastplate without too much scrollwork and ornamentation, but never in my life had I seen for my own eyes a piece of Valyrian steel armor. Well known it was that the secret of forging Valyrian steel was long lost, only the master-smith of Qohor still held the formula as to re-forging it. And armors were significantly more difficult to rework than weapons. Such a piece would cost more than a fortune. My heart swelled with wonder and elation as I meticulously examined the patterns seen within the smoky metal, whorls and glyphs and arcane symbols folded into the steel, and loved them beyond measure.

The last hours of the eve I spent with my parents and brothers and sisters in our solar, sampling cakes and fruits and chatting. Jace and Luke looked a bit more sullen than usual. My little Aegon did not yet understand what was going to happen but he clung to my neck tightly as though he could sense my departure and did not want me to leave. Eggie was always a very sensitive child so I sighed and showered kisses unto his chubby cheeks. Viserys and the girls were as cheerful as always though, clapping and laughing lightly. Baela and Rhaena teased me quite bluntly about the bedding ceremony on the morrow that my mother shot each of us a piercing look.