banshee's lament - aemond targaryen.

chapter 5.

Shera's handwriting, in all accounts, was terrible. It was crude and wispy, all blending together like a child's scrawl. As she sat at her desk, the ink dripping onto the paper from the length of her pauses, she wondered how to sign it.

Yours,

Shera

No, that was much too personal— she... she wasn't his .

Best,

Shera Stark

That felt formal and detached. It simply wouldn't do.

She went through a myriad of different closing statements, wroughting her brain over like wringing out a rag. She even considered not doing it at all.

No, no— she... she wanted to. She needed to try, atleast. Sulking and crying would only do so much for her. She needed to be proactive and offer an olive branch of sorts. She settled on a simple drawing of Moongeist— or mayhaps any wolf, but the point was there. He'd know.

With the note pinned to her cut dress fabric, she snuck from her chambers, flagging down a pageboy.

"Hello," she murmured to the young lad, who couldn't be any older than nine or ten. "May I ask a favor of you, ser?"

"Yes ma'am... my lady," he corrected softly, eyes wondering to Moongeist, who was sitting patiently at Shera's feet.

"May you take this fabric and note to Prince Aemond's chambers and leave it upon his desk?"

"The prince doesn't like people going through his things while he's not there, miss," he responded, blue eyes wide. "I do not wish to be flogged."

Shera blinked slowly. Surely Aemond didn't have servants flogged for an indiscretion. "Has... Prince Aemond had pageboys flogged before?"

"No, miss— but I delivered him a letter while he was eating his lunch once... he had his eyepatch off on the table and I did not knock," the young boy looked at his hands. "He said if I didn't knock next time, he would make me clean up Vhagar's dung with a wheelbarrow."

What the fuck, Aemond? Shera stifled a little laugh, trying not to embarrass the boy. "How about this," she hummed. "Would you like to pet my wolf? He's a real direwolf, all the way from the North."

The lad eyed Moongeist with a curious gaze. "My mumma had a shaggy dog with a curly tail when I was young. He licked my face n' smelled horrible but he was my bestest friend," he said, bashful. "He died a while ago— no one's got any more pups for me to pet."

"He'd love a pet from you, ser," Shera continued. "Will you deliver this to Prince Aemond's chambers? If he gets cross with you, tell me and I'll resolve it and sic my wolf upon him. No harm will befall you."

Shyly, the boy smiled, offering his hand to the wolf. Moongeist sniffed his hand and licked his palm, causing the boy to giggle.

Shera showed him where Moongeist liked to be scratched the most, and the pageboy was quite pleased with himself when he had the giant wolf thumping his foot on the ground like a puppy at the most perfect of scratches.

He took her note and favor and tottered off.

—

Shera knocked on Helaena's door. "Hela?" she called softly.

A handmaid opened the door and let her in, wide eyes upon Moongeist.

The solar was lovely, decorated in blue and purple silks upon the ceiling. There were framed pinnings of various bugs upon the walls, some of them being very rare if she remembered correctly.