aoieby

[aoieby]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 1 of 10

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: You're invited by your best friend Baela to spend the summer before your senior year of university at her grandparents' home on Driftmark. A summer full of beach trips, summer carnivals, and sailing, it seems perfect, despite Baela's family drama; especially her uncle who you cannot stand.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: here it is my loves! my new Aemond series part 1. Let me know what you think, if you'd like to be tagged, etc. 💙

“You’re sure that I’m not an inconvenience?” you ask, for the millionth time since leaving Honeyholt University. 

You’d been driving with your college roommate and best friend Baela for the past nine hours, crammed into her black Audi with all your things from school. The weather was warm with the promise of summer; the windows were down, and Baela’s long silver curls were piled atop her head in a classic ponytail. 

You climb out of the passenger side of her car, Baela doing the same on the driver's side. She pauses, looking at you from over the roof of her car, angling her shades down the bridge of her nose so her violet eyes meet yours. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” she asks, shaking her head at you, “You’re saving me from a summer of boredom.”

“How can anyone be bored here?” you ask, motioning to the scenery around you. 

The last half hour of driving had been spent on a long stretch of highway over the water. You’d even seen dolphins breaching through the surface as you hung your head out the window, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you. 

Baela looked around, taking in her hometown before shrugging. 

“It’s alright, I guess,” she says, slamming the door shut, “C’mon, let me take you to meet the grandparents.”

You follow Baela up the winding stone steps that lead to the spectacular house on a hill. An old money house, that’s what Baela called it, passed down through generations of her family. The air smelt heavily of salt and you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks as you ascended the steps.

“They call it High Tide,” she had told you hours earlier, well into your drive, “because it sits above the sea. Sometimes if there’s a big storm, the waves will make it to the top of the steps.”

High Tide was truly magnificent. Pale and luminescent, the white stones nearly glowed with the afternoon sun's rays. Vines and greenery crept up the sides of the stairs, the house, past windows, and balconies. The further you climbed, the more impressive High Tide became, until you were standing right in front of the main doors. Two large gold seahorse knockers were on the door, but Baela simply tried the handle and let herself in. 

You scurried behind Baela like a child clinging to her mother’s skirts, unsure of yourself in this new glamorous environment. While the outside of High Tide screamed old money, the inside was polished and modern. The entryway was brightly lit, windows spilling in light on the marble floors.

A woman with long silver hair made her way down the stairs, clad in lightweight blue pants and an airy white top. A smile broke out across her face as she moved to embrace Baela. 

“Baela!,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms tightly around her granddaughter. 

“Hey Mumuña,” Baela murmured, hugging her close, slipping easily into her mother tongue. 

Her grandmother released her from the hug, cupping both of her cheeks in her hands. Her violet eyes stared into Baela’s, filling with tears with the joy of embracing her granddaughter.

“We’ve missed you,” she told her, placing a kiss on Baela’s forehead.

“You saw me like four months ago-”

“That’s too long!” she scolded, turning her eyes to you, “You must be Baela’s roommate.”

Baela introduced you, and her grandmother embraced you in a hug as well.

“Thank you so much for inviting me Mrs. Velaryon,” you told her.

“Please, call me Rhaenys,” she assures you, smiling as she pulls away, “It’s no trouble at all, I’m glad Baela will have someone to keep her company for the summer.”

You smile, sharing a knowing glance with Baela. She’d wanted to bring you home for the summer since you became friends freshman year of college. You’d listened to Baela talk all about the magic of summers back home. The late-night movie showings in the park, the annual regatta, and the summer carnival. It was something straight out of a romantic comedy. 

“Where’s Kepāzma?” Baela asks, looking around.

“He’s down by the docks,” Rhaenys tells you both, “Why don’t you head down there after you freshen up?”

Baela’s face scrunches suddenly.

“We’re still going?” she asks, and Rhaenys gives her a stern look.

“I would like to see your sister,” Rhaenys tells Baela, “It’s just dinner, it’ll be alright.”

“Is Uncle V going?” Baela asks, referring to her great uncle.

Rhaenyrs purses her lips and Baela’s gaze falls to the floor. Rhaenys takes Baela’s hand, squeezing it gently. Baela sighs, but nods, her face remaining neutral.

“It’s just dinner,” she repeats and meets your gaze, “You’d have to meet them somehow.”

You’d heard all about Baela’s family drama, and you loved listening to every second of it. You and Baela had bonded over your family drama, it’s what brought you so close together. It’s what got her to invite you to stay for the summer. 

“Here’s the scoop, I get it, it’s confusing,” Baela had told you in the car, “Rhaenyra’s dad was Viserys, right? Side note- he’s dead now. But when Nyra was like ten give or take, her mom dies. Then what happens? Viserys goes right ahead and marries their fucking babysitter.”

Your eyebrows had lifted to your hairline.

“Alicent Hightower. Prom queen, cheerleader, King Landings’ golden girl. That’s not the worst,” Baela continues, “She pops out four kids, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron. Elementary school was hell for us. Well, Helaena’s an angel, but Aeg and Aem can choke.”

“You’re not related though?” you ask.

“So here’s where it gets extra messy, cause you to know, my family just couldn’t stay uninvolved in the local drama,” Baela said sighing dramatically, “Next thing you know, Daemon marries Mom, Nyra marries my uncle, Laenor.”

“I thought he was gay?”

“He is gay,” Baela assured you, “But they get married anyway. I don’t know why, don’t ask. And Nyra has like, a pretty open affair, with the chief of police Harwin Strong.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah, pops out three kids, Jace, Luke, and Joff,” Baela continued, “Then, my mom fucking dies.”

Her breath caught as she said it and you had reached for her hand. 

“Bae-”

“It’s fine, it’s been years,” Baela assured, shaking off your concern, “Laenor skips town, never to be seen again, and Daemon marries Nyra. Rhaena and I were fucking flower girls. Imagine your dad marrying someone that fast.”

“I can’t, Bae,” you had told her, “That must have been so hard for you and Rhaena.”

“It’s a fucking soap opera. And Rhaena thinks I’m crazy for not wanting to put up with it! I moved my ass to High Tide so fucking fast. I have no problem playing the evil step-sister.” 

“So…Aegon and Aemond are like-” you begin, scrunching your nose.

“My uncles. By marriage. Still gross when Aegon hits on me,” Baela shivered slightly, but then looked you up and down, “Actually, he’ll probably swap to hitting on you for the summer.”

“Great,” you tease, nodding your head, “Maybe I can be your new aunt.”

“So not funny,” she says. Her tone is teasing but there’s a warning shimmering within her amethyst eyes. 

“So how are your stepbrothers?” you had asked, shifting the conversation.

Baela had only shrugged.

“They’re alright I guess. Jace is a good guy, really sweet. Luke’s like a 16-year-old gremlin. So there’s that,” she had told you, “And Joff’s like 10. They’re all fine I guess.” 

“And..there are a couple more, right?” you probed.

Baela sighed, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Yup. Daemon got to work rather quickly. Aegon and Viserys,” she said, keeping it short and sweet. 

You wanted to ask why the heck the name Aegon kept popping up throughout the family tree, but you watched Baela’s mouth set in a tight line and thought against it. Another time. 

You had all summer, after all. 

Baela showed you to your room, directly across the hall from hers. A spacious king bed with a white comforter decorated with blue shells and several throw pillows. You even had your own private bathroom. It felt like living in complete luxury. 

You freshened up quickly, deciding on a pale blue sundress and some strappy sandals to wear for dinner across the bay. As you made your way down the stairs to wait for Baela, you stopped to admire the several awards on display near the front door. Squinting, you read a plaque from a few years ago, with two smiling men with their arms around each other.

King’s Landing Regatta 1st Place. 

“Ready?” Baela asked, coming down the stairs, noticing your gaze. 

“As I’ll ever be!” you say smiling, turning your back on the pictures.

“King’s Landing,” Baela introduces as you walk up the dock, “or as the locals call it the mainland.”

The boat ride over had been smooth and gentle, taking all of 20 minutes to speed across the bay. You’d been introduced to Baela’s grandfather, Corlys, who drove the boat across the bay. Corlys was a large man, with a snowy white beard and silver locs to match. He’d hugged Baela as tightly as Rhaenys had, staring at her as though he hadn’t seen her in several years. The boat was beautiful, a long silver multihull called the Seasnake. 

“And your dad lives here?” you ask, as Baela loops her arm through yours as you head up the stone steps at the end of the dock. 

“Gods no,” Baela chuckles, “No, Alicent, her family lives here. Daemon lives on Dragonstone with Rhaenyra now and the rest of them.”

Them. Her twin sister lived there as well. Baela seemed impartial to the three Strong boys, but little Aegon and Viserys were clearly a sore subject. 

You continue walking up the steps. The railings are covered in twinkling lights, leading a path up toward the house. As you make your way closer the Targaryen mansion comes into view, the red brick standing in stark contrast to the purpling sunset sky. 

It’s larger than High Tide, more like a castle made of bricks soaked in blood. You’ve never seen a more striking red color. 

“Some crazy guy built it,” Baela says, noticing your admiration, “One of Viserys’ ancestors. Called it the Red Keep. Made it his own personal fortress.”

“It’s beautiful,” you comment.

“It’s something alright,” Baela says, ushering you around the back. 

The backyard is illuminated with lights much like those that led the path from the docks. The yard is incredibly spacious, with a pool and patio that spreads out several feet before dipping into freshly cut dark green grass. The pool was full of several floating candles, the blue water clear and sere. The yard overlooks the bay, you can just make out High Tide in the distance, lights on welcoming you home. 

“Over there,” Baela murmurs pointing to an island just to the left of Driftmark, “Is Dragonstone.”

You don’t know how you missed it. Dragonstone sits like a sister next to Driftmark. Like a twin. Your eyes flicker to Baela’s face. She purses her lips as she stares at the two isles. You nudge her shoulder.

“I feel like we’re in The Great Gatsby,” you tell her, “Are we West Egg or East Egg?”

“Definitely West Egg,” a soft voice comments.

You turn around and are greeted by a silver-haired girl, around your age, with soft eyes that match Baela’s. Clad in soft linen pants and a tank top, she smiles gently at you. 

“Hey Helaena,” Baela greets, hugging her.

She introduces you and Helaena hugs you as well. She smells faintly of weed, and something fruity, maybe peaches. You can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“It’s cool you’re here. Mom wouldn’t let me bring anyone,” Helaena tells you.

“Why not?” you ask.

Baela and Helaena share a small laugh.

“Full house,” Helaena tells you, “My mother can be kind of anal.”

“Kind of?” Baela teases.

“Bitch!” a voice calls and suddenly Baela is pulled away from you, and tackled into a hug.

“Fuck Rhae!” Baela grumbles, but a smile adorns her face.

She struggles to find her balance as her twin hugs her fiercely. Rhaena and Baela are identical apart from their differing hairstyles. Rhaena sports long locs, with silver and pink thread interwoven throughout. 

“You didn’t think to text me when you arrived?” Rhaena says, huffing with annoyance. 

Baela introduced you and Rhaena gifted you a rib-crushing hug as well, reminding her twin that of course she recognized you from all your Instagrams and late-night snap chats when you’re out on the town together. 

“I’m just so glad you’re here,” Rhaena says, sitting with you at a table.

More relatives arrived at a staggered pace. You’d been introduced to Aegon, who had trouble keeping his eyes anywhere north of your cleavage. His eyes were bloodshot, and you wondered if he and his sister had smoked together before the family dinner. 

Baela was right about Jace of course, he was nothing but sweet, asking about your major, and what you enjoyed studying. He was your favorite relative, you had decided. Aemond had yet to make an appearance, though you’d met his mother Alicent. Young and beautiful, the perfect Daisy Beauchanan across the bay. You’d decided this must be East Egg after all. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra arrived as well, though Baela stayed far away from her father. Rhaenyra, who was dressed in a red sleeveless maxidress, sat with a hand over her heavily pregnant stomach.

“A girl,” she had told you when you were introduced, smiling softly. 

You watched as Daemon attempted to engage Baela in conversation when she went to refill her drink, but she shrugged him off, ignoring his advances. Her mouth was set in a tight line, eyes training on Rhaenyra’s hand that lay across her stomach.  

Dinner was like an extravagant cookout, with steak and lobster, and plenty of side dishes. Alicent promised dessert would be the best part, an old family recipe chocolate mousse. 

“I’m just going to go use the bathroom,” you tell Baela as you head inside. 

The Red Keep inside was just as beautiful as the outside. Walking through the French doors you were immediately in the spacious kitchen; they even had two stainless steel refrigerators. Who needs two refrigerators? The sound of gunfire and explosions caught your attention and you made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, standing next to a rather large bust.

A flatscreen hung on the wall currently displays some army shooting game. You’d never really cared for video games, and this was no exception. Was it Call of Duty? Maybe, you’re not sure. You watched for a moment, gaze shifting to the two heads visible on the couch. One black hair and one silver. 

“It’s to the left down the hall!” Baela called from the kitchen, as she grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge.

Her eyebrows scrunched together noticing your hesitation and she walked over to you, rolling her eyes at the view of the boys on the couch.

“Hey,” she called, though neither boy looked away from the screen.

“Hello,” Baela said, louder this time, waving her hand at the boys on the couch, “relative who you haven’t seen since winter break just arrived home.”

“Hey Baela,” the blonde said, not looking away from the video game on the TV.

“Sup Bae,” the brunette chimes, angrily pressing the buttons.

“Y/N, Luke, and Daeron,” Baela says pointing at them, “annoying high schoolers.”

“Not anymore!” Luke says, turning his head, “It’s summer.”

“Hence my presence!” Baela says crossing her arms, “No way they let you idiots graduate.” 

“We’re seniors now, keep up,” Luke tells her, gaze flickering finally to look at you.

He smirks at you suddenly, eyeing you up and down, shamelessly ogling. Your eyes widen in shock and Baela openly gags, pointing a finger down her throat. 

“Luke, you’re a baby, please stop drooling,” Baela begs, whacking him on the head. 

“Some women like younger men,” Luke argues, dodging as Baela goes to hit him again.

“Dude pay attention!” Daeron groans, elbowing Luke. 

“Shit sorry!”

“No I’m sorry,” Baela apologizes, looking at you, “You’re like a shiny new toy around here.”

You laugh and shake your head.

“It’s all good, really,” you tell your best friend, “Down the hall?”

“To the left,” she tells you, “I’ll meet you back outside.”

You head to the bathroom, which is also ridiculously nice, of course. You could get used to this. A summer by the sea, relaxing with your best friend. So many different events to look forward to. It all seems so perfect. You open the door, heading back toward the living room. As you make your way down the hall, you notice some photos and awards similar to the shrine at High Tide. 

You walk slowly, letting your eyes drink in the photos. The regatta must be a bigger deal than Baela made it out to be. You spot a young Rhaenyra, next to someone who can only be Viserys with an arm around her in front of a large cutter with the name Syrax on the hull. She’s smiling wide, clutching a trophy between her delicate fingers. 

The sound of shouting makes you freeze your steps and tears your gaze from the photographs. 

“That’s not the fucking point!” a woman’s shill voice floats down the spiral staircase, followed by the soft patter of feet descending the stairs. 

The living room has gone silent, the game abandoned by Luke and Daeron. They must have headed outside with the rest of the family for dessert. 

“Mhmm,” the soft purr of someone else follows the woman’s voice.

A dark-haired girl comes into view at the bottom of the stairs. Wearing a short blue dress that clings to her every curve, she stops with her hand on the door, before turning around, tearful gaze aimed up the stairs. 

“You’re just going to stand there, that’s it?” she snapped.

Heavier footsteps descend the stairs as Aemond comes into view. You hadn’t met him, but you know it's him, he’s the only relative left. He puts his hands in his pockets, sharp chin angled toward the ground. 

You can tell he’s handsome, all Targaryens seem to be. He looks an awful lot like Rhaenyra, they have the same powerful nose. His jawline is sharp and defined, you watch a muscle twitch as the girl talks to him. 

“I explicitly told you this arrangement wasn’t happening this summer,” Aemond told her cooly.

“Arrangement,” she spat, voice full of venom despite her wobbling lower lip, “Fucking me was just an arrangement then?”

Your eyes widen and you hollow your cheeks, sucking in a sharp breath. Shit. Shit, fuck. You should not be witnessing this. It was one thing to hear Baela discuss her family’s soap opera and another thing to witness it firsthand.

You slowly back up, cheeks burning as you watch with horror as the girl begins to cry, tears spilling from her clear blue eyes down her cheeks. Aemond simply watches her, lips pursed, unmoving from his spot on the stairs.

“So this meant nothing?” she asks, voice cracking, “All last summer, winter break? Nothing?”. 

“You knew it did. You said it meant nothing to you too,” Aemond answers. 

“No one fucks like that when it's nothing, Aemond, even if you won’t admit it,” she argued.

Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps, standing a few feet in front of her. He’s tall, towering over her as he speaks. 

“I do. I fuck like that. There wasn’t anything here, Floris, I thought you understood that,” Aemond told her, his voice eerily calm, and icy. 

Floris’ face scrunches with the pain of his words. Her lower lip trembles and you can hear the bracelets on her wrists rattling together as her hands begin to shake. 

“Go fuck yourself Targaryen,” she tells him, before leaving out the front door, letting it slam behind her. 

The chandelier above the entry shakes, crystals tinkling together with the force of the door closing. Aemond makes a humming noise, low in the back of his throat, like he couldn’t be bothered with crushing a girl’s heart. You continue to back up, slowly and carefully, the wall that leads to the kitchen is just there if you make it-

Your hip bumps into something, and before you can turn you watch in absolute horror as the marble bust tumbles to the ground smashing to pieces. Loudly. Aemond’s head snaps toward you, and he makes his way to see the commotion as you stand in horror looking at the destroyed bust. 

“Ohmygod,” you say, mouth open in shock, hands held out in front of you, “Ohmygod.”

“It’s nothing,” Aemond assures you, “Someone will clean it up.”

“It’s nothing?” you ask, your voice several pitches higher than normal, “That was someone! Who was that?”

“Maegor Targaryen,” Aemond tells you, “The man who designed this house.”

“The crazy one,” you tell him, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

Aemond blinks at you, as though finally seeing you. 

“Excuse me?” Aemond asks eyebrows knit together.

“Baela told me-”

“Who are you?” Aemond interrupts, wetting his lips, his face the picture of irritation. 

You close your mouth, the rudeness of his tone snapping you out of your shocked state. Looking at him you notice his eyes are different colors, one violet, one blue. The blue one clearly a prosthetic, meant to resemble a sapphire. A long scar runs through his eyebrow and down his left cheek. 

“I’m Baela’s friend,” you tell him, omitting your name.

“Okay Baela’s friend, why are you in my house?” Aemond asks.

You cross your hands over your chest, becoming increasingly annoyed.

“I’m here for dinner, you ass,” you tell him, “You’d know if you weren’t fucking with that girl.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh so you’re a spy too,” he accuses, “It’s rude to eavesdrop you know.”

“You weren’t exactly quiet, it was pretty easy to hear all that,” you snap.

“That was nothing,” he tells you.

“Clearly,” you say sarcastically, nodding your head for dramatic effect, “I was warned that Aegon was the fuckboy but I guess Baela got her facts mixed up.”

Aemond’s face grows angry then, you can tell you’ve pushed a button by comparing him to his elder brother.

“Okay, Baela’s friend,” he sneers, “Time to make your way back to Driftmark.”

“I’m waiting on dessert,” you tell him, “Heard it's a real treat.”

“Better get back out there then,” Aemond says, jutting his chin toward the door.

You glance down at the destroyed bust once more. Pieces of Maegor Targaryen are scattered throughout the hall. 

“It was an accident,” you tell him.

“No? I figured you broke it on purpose,” he says, voice oozing with disdain and sarcasm.

Aemond moves by you, walking toward the back of the house. 

“Are you just going to leave this here?” you call, but he doesn’t turn around, “Hey!”

You follow him out, but he’s so much quicker than you with those long legs of his. What a douchebag. Your breathing has turned to pants with your fury as Baela catches your arm once you’re back outside.

“Hey!” she says, her smile faltering when she notices your expression, “What? What is it?”

“Your relative, or uncle? Whatever,” you tell her, “Is an ass.”

“Who?” Helaena asks, concern written on her face, “Oh! Aemond!”

You turn around as Aemond makes his way over, a tight smile on his face as he stands next to his sister. Helaena returns the grin, telling Aemond your name. His blue and violet eye meet yours once more.

“We’ve met,” he tells Helaena.

“Oh,” Baela says, understanding, “The ass, I assume?”

“Mhmm,” you tell her. 

Helaena frowns.

“What did you do?” she accuses, but Aemond shakes his head.

“Your friend broke Maegor,” Aemond tells them, causing your cheeks to flush.

Helaena strokes your arm, her touch light as a butterfly’s wing, noting your embarrassment.

“Mom hated that bust, she’ll be glad it's gone,” she assures you, radiating kindness.

“It was an accident,” you assure her.

“Sure,” Aemond says, and you catch his eye once more, heat flooding into your face.

He’s smirking now, as though he’s enjoying your discomfort, daring you to say something. You swallow your retort, not wanting to make a scene in front of Helaena, turning back to Baela. 

“Where’d Jace go? I want him to finish explaining that thing about…what was the name of his boat again?”

“Not his, Luke’s,” Baela corrects, “Jace sails more casually, Luke’s the one entering the regatta this year.”

Aemond laughs when Baela says that and you turn to him, unable to help yourself.

“I’m sure he’s a great sailor,” you snap. 

Aemond pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, something fiery, something new behind his gaze. Something angry. Your skin prickles with the energy between you, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

Helaena doesn’t say anything this time, looking toward the ground. Even Baela doesn’t speak. You sense you’ve crossed a line of some sort, but you’re not sure which one. Aemond says nothing, just hums once more before turning to leave. He walks across the patio to Aegon who is refilling his drink.

“Damn,” Baela whispers.

“Hmm,” Helaena says, pursing her lips.

“What?” you ask them, feeling lost, “What did I say?”

Baela puts a hand around your shoulders, pouting dramatically.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she tells you, squeezing you into a hug.

Aemond Taglist: @warmfieldofgrass, @rwdkarla, @axillaisabella, @heavenly1927, @friedchicken12, @out-of-life, @disco--fairy, @shit-posts420, @khaothick, @coffeeobsessedtrencher, @hb8301, @diosademuerte, @persephonerinyes, @itsabby15, @ethereallocs

*bold means I could not tag :(

let me know if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

[aoieby]

Hiii

I was just wondering how would Aemond and his love react to their kid being hurt and losing their eye potentially. Maybe it’s so so but eventually they say they couldn’t save the eye and so due to infection or whatever they had to remove it.

How would the kids siblings act?

Would Aemond see them come together to protect their sibling and see what he wished his brother and siblings did for him that night he lost his eye.

I imagine he would make sure he wasn’t like Viserys. He would make sure his kid was okay and protected but also justice. There would be justice.

Imagine if it was his daughter 😱 his little princess. His little dragon. It would hurt him so much. Imagine if in her sweet little voice “it’s okay kepa and muna. I can look like kepa now and have my own eye patch. Like the pirates in the stories.”

Or something like that. I can practically hear Aemonds heart break.

I am so so so sorry this is so long. I just thought that your dad Aemond stuff is so Damn good and you would make an awesome fic out of ideas like above. I know they suck and you get much better ideas from people but this just popped in my head. I hope you have a great day. ☀️

OK FIRST OF ALL, sorry it took me so long to get to this, my brain just hasn't been working these days but ahhhhh, second of all, HOW DARE YOU DROP ME ALL THIS ANGST. IT HURTS. BUT IT HURTS SO GOOD. I don't have the brain capacity for a fully fleshed out fic, but I can offer you this humble drabble...CW: angst ahead, but it's brief and followed by a lot of fluff and the injuries aren't explicitly described.

The Sapphire Princess (drabble) • (King!Aemond Targaryen, dad!Aemond)

...For this scenario, I'm imagining Aemond is king, and he has his three children I’ve talked about before, Elaena the eldest, and the twins, Aeron and Vaella. Elaena and Aeron are his protectors while everyone in the kingdom knows that the youngest of the twins, Vaella, is the most attached to her father out of the three children.

Vaella is the sensitive one, the soft child in a household of strong-willed children. The one who's always holding onto Aemond's hand. She's not his protector in the same way that Elaena and Aeron are, it's like Vaella's got his father's heart under her care. Everyone used to say that the prince had a black heart. But not anymore, not the king. His children are to thank for it. Out of his two daughters, while Elaena wears practical clothing, ready for combat, Vaella is known for wearing sapphire blue dresses, the color of her father's prosthetic eye. Because of this, she's known as 'the sapphire princess', and she's very loved by all.

She's the perfect target for those wanting to hurt the King - hit him where it hurts most. A single scratch to her beautiful face, a face that's the mirror image of the Queen, it's enough to ignite King Aemond's fury.

So one night, The Red Keep goes aflame. Princess Vaella is nowhere to be found in the dead of night. You can only hear the thunderous growling of King Aemond, his stomping steps reverberating against the stone floors of the palace as he commands Elaena and Aeron to lead the King's Guard in search of her dearest daughter, just as he rides Vaghar to watch over the Kingdom from above.

The search isn't an arduous one, but it is dooming. It is gut-wrenching; Elaena feels as though his heart has been ripped from her chest when she finds her young sister, wailing in pain all doubled over herself in one of the alleyways of flea bottom. Aeron kneels down, feeling weakened at the sight, feeling his twin's stabbing pain as his own.

Young Vaella Targaryen's left eye has been taken, like her father before her. Elaena takes her sister in arms, just as Aeron takes the lead of the king's guard in order to find the culprit. Seek and destroy is the order.

Elaena feels desperate and weak, but she holds on to her strength as she carries her sister all the way to the Maesters.The Queen weeps and clutches her silk robes at the sound of Vaghar's growls in the sky. From the windows of the palace, one could only see a spear of Dragonfire cutting through the sky like Vaella's own facial wound. The enemies of the king have been destroyed.

Aemond rushes in but paralyzes on the spot. The sight that greets him is taunting and cruel, bringing back flooding memories that are as vicious as the bloodshed outside. "My sweet dove..." he laments as he reaches his queen and children, who form a protective circle around Vaella.

"Father..." she croaks out, barely able to speak with the Maesters working on sewing her scar shut. Where once Princess Vaella used to look like a carbon copy of her mother, now it's as though Aemond is looking at a vivid image of his past self.

Aemond takes her hand, squeezing tightly. "The ones responsible have been annihilated, ñuha jorrāelagon. You don't need to fret. Your family is with you."

"Don't mourn me, kepa." She murmurs, as a single tear escapes her big doe eye, "You were strong enough to endure, and so will I. The bravery in your blood is the same that courses through my own veins. Now my Sapphire nickname is as true as ever."

It doesn't stop Aemond from crying, and grasping onto Vaella's delicate hand as if she'd evaporate in the blink of a weary eye.

"You've got something your father lacked, back then, my darling." Her mother's tone is both comforting and laced with the ferocity that could make anyone believe in miracles. Vaella's mother speaks to her, but also to the younger version of Aemond, the one that wished he'd had someone other than his mother to defend him.

"You have us. We will nurture you back to health. It won't be easy, my dove. But we'll be there."

Elaena and Aeron stand beside their parents, wiping off their tears and replacing the somber look on their faces with hopeful smiles. Vaella couldn't see them sad, she needs her siblings healthy and strong.

The months passed, and the road to recovery was long, with days when the pain is blinding for Vaella, and her cries can be heard all throughout the Red Keep. Days where the King can be seen starring idly at nothing at all as if lost in a sea of memories. There were days when Aeron and Elaena sat on the iron throne, for the King wanted nothing but to spend the day nestled in bed, cuddling his daughter. And days when kepa and muña could be spotted in the gardens, helping their daughter train with the sword so that she'll never again be unarmed and unable to defend herself.

A year later, a portrait of the royal family was commissioned. At the iron throne, sat the king. Flanking his left, stood Elaena and Aeron. The Queen, ever-present to the king's right. And in the front, sat by the king's knee - like a ripple of the King's image - Vaella, The Sapphire Princess. Neither the father nor the daughter wore their respective eye patches, proud to display their shared symbol of resilience.