Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

TWENTY FOUR

The wind ran salty fingers through Princess Rhaenyra's hair as she stood facing the burning pyre by the ocean. A black plume of smoke was rising in dense spirals which a sudden gust of gale blew towards her, yet Rhaenyra remained rooted to the spot. Her dull purple eyes burned with sleeplessness and tears as she watched the long orange tongues of Syrax's flames licking at her daughter Alyssa's shrouded body, melting away the fine white linen and the flesh until all that was left of her were ashes and calcined bones.

The only sound between Dragonstone's rocky shore and the leaden sky was the loud crackling of brushwood. Cherry-red cinders rose on the gray-black smoke to float away like so many newborn fireflies. The bitter stench of charred logs brought back Rhaenyra the hardest of memories, the unexpected death of her beloved mother Queen Aemma and little brother Baelon, the tragedy that turned her entire life upside down. She had thought she would never feel such wordless agony again. She was wrong.

The invisible hands of the gods played cruel tricks upon her once more, snatching away her father and infant daughter and any certainty she used to have about her future.

Pulling her vair-lined black-and-red cloak more tightly around herself, Rhaenyra wiped tears from her eyes and said in a rusty voice as if long unused. "To think that we at one time mocked the Velaryons for their heedless ambitions that cost them everything. Now the gods send their regards. The Stranger casts a long shadow over our own."

"I see no gods' meddling in this but that conniving cunt Otto's deception and deceit." answered Daemon, gazing fixedly at the dying light of the pyre with his unblinking pale lilac eyes. Dark Sister was planted deeply into the ground before him, its blade glinting silver in the sunlight. "When we have done with our grieving, we shall make ready to avenge those taken away from us. The fucking traitors who stole from us must know our wrath."

"And what about our daughter? What about our little flame?" Rhaenyra asked, twisting her head to the side and staring at Daemon with red and sore eyes. "Is there no limit to your pride and ambition that you would subject your own child to danger just for a slim chance at the Iron Throne?"

"Visenya is in danger as we speak." Daemon answered with a flinty look on his face, his voice dark and rumbling. "What do you think that damnable snake is doing to her right now that he has her completely wrapped around his finger? Wouldn't surprise me to find him trimming her claws and domesticating her into his household pet, or worse, chaining her up like some slave-whore to be used at his pleasure."

"You cannot know that—" Rhaenyra shot back, her voice breaking. Hot tears welled in her eyes again as Daemon put a hand on her quivering shoulder. "I know that Otto is playing your fear as a mother. He used Daenaera to ensure Visenya's good behavior, then held Visenya as a hostage to keep us in check. He stole your birthright, your daughter, and your granddaughter, and he will never with good grace hand them over unless we seize them by force. You must proclaim yourself queen and raise banners to seek justice and lawful aid, my love."

"How can I do that when it is my own daughter that sits upon the conqueror's throne, wears the conqueror's circlet, and wields the conqueror's sword?" Rhaenyra asked, trying to breath slowly to calm herself. "We already won, Daemon. Our blood ascended the Iron Throne. There's nothing to fight over for. My father chose me as his successor to hold the realm together against the darkness in the North, not to tear the hard-earned peace into shreds. Let your personal ambition go, uncle. Our daughter is queen. Visenya might prove more politically adept than either of us at ruling and bringing forth peace into the kingdoms."

"No doubt she is, but what makes you think the greens are letting her reign? Every privy council seat is taken by Otto and his servile lickspittle lapdogs. Pray tell how do you know they do not plot to put strings on her and pull the strings from the shadows? And that betrayer who tricked and trapped her, his own wife? You can't tell me you don't see that he means to rule through her." Daemon spoke, his fingers tightening on Rhaenyra's shoulder. "I have no objection to Visenya's ascension, Rhaenyra, but her mummer's charade of a marriage cannot be allowed to continue, and her trope of a small council has to be purged. She needs me as her Hand and her real family by her side. I will not have the Hightowers steal my daughter and use her like a puppet and a pot for their worthless seeds."