kika

Chapter II

Beautiful.

“Beautiful” was the first thing Aemond had thought of when his betrothed stepped out of her carriage, in her soft furs, with her cheeks rosy from the biting cold that haunted Kings Landing that day. Her hair was of a cold brown color, and fell in soft and full curls down her back. Her eyes were round and seemingly blue, though he was told that she sported the staple gray eyes of the Starks. Her skin was fair as snow, and she had some beauty marks scattered along her face.

He had seen many women throughout his life. Tall and short, young and old, light and dark skin, slender and curvy. He had seen women from all over the world. From the dornish marches till the deep vales of Arryn, from the valyrian settlements and even from the far east. But never in his life had he been so infatuated by any lady like he was right now, looking at his future bride.

If she was nervous, she masked it well, all soft eyes and kind smiles. She courtesies, and when she looks up at him, she smiles. His heart stopped. He knew he was being pathetic, but to have such a beautiful woman look at him, see him and all of him, and give him a genuine smile was something that he didn’t think would ever happen.

He did not want to be married. He was happy - or whatever happy meant - as he was, not being tied down to someone. He liked his life of training, studying and being a dutiful son and prince, he did not want a wife to be scared of him and despise him. Nevertheless, it was his duty and he would follow it. And he knew that he was probably thinking too much into Lady Stark's smile. She was, in all likelihood, just being as well mannered and respectful as she was bred to be. It wouldn’t matter if it was him standing there or the dying and decaying king himself, she would still smile and flutter her lashes at him. But still, he could not deny his reaction to her. He, who had never cared much for love or even simple pleasures, was stunned by this northern girl who looked in his direction for a total of five seconds.

Aemond stayed silent while his mother welcomed his wife-to-be, and stayed like that until much later, when they had already dispersed from the keeps gates, when he was already in his room for what seemed like hours, restless. He only spoke again when his mother knocked at his door, wanting to talk to him about his future bride.

“So,”, the queen started, after taking a seat in the chaise that faced the fire, “what did you think? About Lady Anora, I mean.”

He could see that his mother was nervous about his response, wanting for him to be content with his betrothed. She had scoured half a world until she finally found a respectable young lady, who came from a noble enough family, had a good reputation and was said to be a great prospect for a wife. She looked to the Baratheons, the Tyrells, the Redwynes and the Lannisters, before deciding that the Baratheons were too power hungry, the Tyrells too upjumped, the Redwynes too arrogant and the Lannister girls too young. When Anora Stark, member of one of the noblest, oldest and most powerful families in the realm, sister of a Lord, who was born the same year as Aemond and was said to be smart, comely, pious and dutiful had been mentioned in one such small council meeting, the queen was quick to act before any other man took her. She sent a letter to Winterfell by raven, but was ready to make the trip north herself in case it was needed. The day a letter came back, not written by a maester or Lord Cregan, but by Lady Anora herself, accepting the proposal and saying yes to life at court, his mother came to him with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face.

So, you could say that Aemonds opinion on his betrothed was very important to queen Alicent.

“What would you want me to think?” He was being difficult, he knew it. Aemond could simply say - I think she’s beautiful and when she smiled at me I almost died right there and then. Or even put it more simply, just saying - I liked her. But today, unlike most other days, he felt like being a little difficult.

“What do you suppose I want you to think, Aemond? I want to think that you can see a happy marriage with this girl, that you like her. But this isn’t about what I want you to believe, this is about how you felt.” His mother was annoyed at him, yes, but also tired of his avoidance. She looked at him straight in the eye, awaiting his actual response to her question. But the thing was, that Aemond didn’t know what to say or how to say it.

“I… well…” He looked away from his mother, embarrassed. After a moment of silence, he heard his mom sigh, and speak:

“Let me rephrase it. Did Lady Stark please you?”

“Yes.” Aemond spoke truthfully. He was grateful for his mothers change of approach, but was still unreceptive to further talk about the matter. There’s a few more moments of silence, where Aemond just gazes into the fire, while Alicent looks at him. It’s neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, just familiar.

“I’m happy, then, my son.” Alicent says. Aemond turns his eye to her, and sees her giving him a small but proud smile. The queen gets up from her seat, and Aemond stands with her. She squeezes his arm and kisses his forehead, ready to take her leave. “Don’t forget, you’ll have to be in the Throne Room in time for supper.” And with that, she departs from his rooms.

Aemond spends most of the afternoon alone in his chambers. He tries to read but his mind always leads him back to Anora Stark and her damned smile. When he finally comes to terms with his inability to concentrate, he goes to the training grounds to practice a little and to channel his frustrations into something. Ser Criston is not there to train with him on this day, so he decides that his adversary might as well be the hay dummy that he used to train with as a child. He’s there until the sun starts to set, when he has to go back to his rooms to get himself ready for the feast. He bathes, he gets dressed in his finest clothes, he even puts a bit more effort into his hair, braiding the two pieces that connect at the back of his head. He doesn’t know, or better, doesn’t want to admit to himself, the reason for his elevated attempt at looking presentable, but he does it anyway.

When the time comes, he leaves for the Throne Room, choosing to enter it through one of the doors that flank the throne, instead of arriving via the main entrance, in order to be as discreet as possible. Aemond takes his seat at the center of the dais, his brother Aegon seated at his left, and an empty chair to his right, where his betrothed is to be seated. Next to the empty space is his mother, and next to her, his sister Helaena. The room started to fill with people and conversation, but Aemond kept his eye locked in the door, waiting for her to arrive. It took her more than he had wished for, but finally, she passed the great doors into the Throne Room, and stole his breath away.

The dress she wore looked magnificent, it fitted her so well that Aemond was convinced the Gods themselves had made it just for her. She looked as beautiful now as she looked when she’d arrived at the castle, but her attitude held more poise. She walked gracefully towards the long table, and when she ended her bow Aemond shot up from his seat, though he tried to seem cool and collected, and made his way to her. He bowed when he got near her, and offered her his arm. He took the time to look at her, and realized somethings about her face that he hadn’t noticed before, now that he was closer to her. Like how her eyes were gray, they just looked blue at a distance. Or how her nose had a bump, which possibly meant that it had been broken before. Her lashes were dark and long, and she had some freckles speckling her nose and cheeks, which might mean that she enjoys spending time outdoors.

When she grabbed onto his arm, his heart skipped a beat. Her touch was gentle and cold, thought not in an uninviting way.

They finally got seated in their place, and with that, his grandfather got up to give a speech.

“Tonight, we are here to celebrate the betrothal of my grandson, prince Aemond Targaryen, to Lady Anora Stark of Winterfell. May their union be joyful and fruitful. And may we commemorate this alliance, by dining, drinking and dancing along this young couple-to-be. Enjoy!”

Food of the most various kinds started being served to the guests as shouts of joy and applause filled the room. The music was loud and festive, and all the attention seemed to be directed at Aemond and Anora. They ate in silence for a while, until his mother sparked a conversation with Lady Anora. By her side, Aemond was tense in his seat, barely being able to swallow his food. Of course, Aegon took notice of that, and started with his mockery of Aemond.

“I knew that your interactions with the ladies were scarce, dear brother, but to think of you so pathetic that you couldn’t stray from the edge of your seat all the way throw diner just because a woman is seated next to you had never crossed my mind” Aegon whispered in his ear, while wearing a stupid grin on his face. Aemond kept silent, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his betrothed. “She is very pretty, I’ll give you that.” Aegon is now looking directly at Lady Anora, with a drunk and lustful gaze. “It’s truly unfair that you get to bed that girl, while I got stuck with our idiot sister. Maybe, if you're not man enough to do it, which I’m sure you’re not, I’ll take her to my bed instead. Give her something good out of this arrangement, she is for sure not going to get it out of you.” Aemond knew that his brother was all bark, no bite. He knew he was only saying this to get a reaction out of him, and Aemond was stuck on not giving it to him.

“I would advise you to stop with the wine for the rest of the night, brother” Aemond quietly said “Else you might do something that you’ll later regret.” He threw Aegon the most menacing look he could conjure, and though he was not confident on it, it caused his brother to back off and return to his cups.

When he turned his attention back to the girl sitting at his side she was already looking at him. He started to panic. Had she heard the conversation? Had she heard the vile things his brother had said about her? Had she felt disrespected? He couldn’t see how she would not. Would she ask to break off the betrothal because of it?

But before he could go into full on distress, she smiled. She smiled at him, again. And oh, was it better than the first time. Now it felt more confident, sweeter even. And she was so near, he could see the little dimples that appeared in her upper lip. And the ways her eyes shone, like molten silver.

“Is Vhagar as big and mighty as they say? I’ve been wondering, recently, what it might feel like to ride such an ancient and powerful creature.” He heard coming from her, in a sweet, melodic voice, though he was still slightly hypnotized by her smile that the words didn’t fully register into his brain.

“Excuse me?” Aemond asked clumsily.

“Oh, I only meant it out of curiosity, my prince. It was not my intent to offend you, I’m sorry if I did.” It seemed that his response was even more ungraceful than he had thought, as she had thought of him disgruntled or even angry at her question. Which was exactly what Aemond was afraid of, that he would scare her away with his cold persona and mean demeanor, and the marred eye that ingratiated his face would not help him at all.

“You have not offended me, my lady. I was just… taken by surprise.” Aemond responded to her, trying to calm her qualms “You asked of Vhagar, yes?” Anora nodded, compelling him to speak further “Yes well, she is a mighty beast, that is true. Old and stubborn too. But I believe it is to be expected for a creature who has lived for so long, bonded with multiple people and been through various battles to be headstrong, don’t you agree?”

He tried to be lighthearted and approachable in his response, though he internally cringes at it. It seemed to work, though. Lady Anora nods her head once again in agreement, and smiles.

“Yes, yes. I only think it’s fair.” Her gaze returns to the food in front of her, while Aemond struggles to find a way to continue their conversation.

Thought short, and seemingly lacking in substance, he appreciated their conversation. It was the first time they ever spoke to each other and she had already left him with a striking impression. She was kind, approachable, and lighthearted. But also polite, well mannered and disciplined. And she seemed to have a sense of humor and be easily amused. He wanted to keep on conversing with her, to know more about her, maybe even make her laugh.

“How has the weather suited you, my lady? I’m sure it is much different from the one you’re used to.” It was shameful how the first thing that came to his mind to talk about was the weather, but he decided to stick with it. Maybe it could escalate to something else, like a talk about Winterfell and the North, or maybe about Kings Landing and the South, what she expected from it. Aemond noticed that people had started to gather in the middle of the room to start dancing.

“It is much different.” She begins “It was strange to me to see rain, it doesn’t rain much in the North, except sometimes in the Neck. Most of the time the temperature is so cold that it just turns the water into snow. It is also warmer here, which I appreciate, at least for now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle the heat once summer comes.” Lady Anora jests, cheeky smile on her face. Aemond is about to respond, to maybe quip back at her. She has left him plenty of opening for him to bring this conversation further.

Chapter I

The carriage ride from Winterfell to King's Landing was calm at best, boring and too long at worst. She would have preferred to make the trip by boat, but storms have haunted the narrow sea since the start of the year, and the journey by land was much safer. Though it was autumn, the weather in the south was much more forgiving, except for the heavy rains that encountered them in the Riverlands. But all that was left behind, now that Anora and her party made their way through the King’s gate, into the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, and her month long trip came to an end.

Anora slightly moved one of the carriage curtains, in order to observe the city and its people. The streets were full of people, some making business, other’s just walking around, but most followed her entourage with their eyes, either knowing what her arrival meant or questioning what was happening. She had heard stories of how Kings Landing was not an ideal place to live in, how the smell was overwhelming and the people dangerous, and though the rumors about the odors seemed to be true, the population seemed just like the one in White Harbor: busy, hard working, a community. In a moon, those will be her people, hers to protect and care for.

She’s to be married to the prince of the realm, Aemond Targaryen, and to unite their noble families. She didn’t know the prince, only the stories and rumors that surrounded him. They said that he had lost an eye, though the specific circumstances no one agreed on: some said that his dragon, the mighty Vhagar, ate it when he claimed her; other’s say that his older sister, the princess Rhaenyra, had it ordered as revenge, for prince Aemond had questioned the legitimacy of her three eldest children. She had also heard of his character, how he was cold and aloof, a good fighter and a fast learner, how he loved his mother, followed his duty to a T, and how he was the picture perfect image of a valyrian prince.

When the betrothal request had reached Winterfell, her brother Cregan had been hesitant to accept it. She was his little sister, after all, and he didn’t want to throw her in the jaws of a dragon. She was the one that accepted the proposal, that had the final say. Even though she was unsure, and truthfully nervous about the union and the type of person that her future husband would be, this was a very advantageous match. Not only would it make her a princess, but her children would be possible dragon riders, her house would be protected by the crown, and the prince was the same age as her, a luxury that other brides couldn’t afford.

She had heard from Lord Manderly's wife, that the prince was quite handsome, if you ignored his marred eye, and that he seemed to be dutiful and honorable, and the complete opposite of his older brother, who was a drunk adulterer. She hoped they could find an amicable marriage, and from what she had heard about prince Aemond, she believed she would at least tolerate his company. She could only hope that he would find her presence endurable as well.

As she noticed that they were nearing the Red Keep's walls, her nerves started to arise. She had never been south of the neck, much less in court. Both her parents were from the North, which meant that she wasn’t taught the ways of the South. She had read and educated herself about them, truthfully reading seemed like the only thing she did during the weeks on the road, but she feared it was not enough. Would she make a fool of herself in front of her betrothed, of his family, of the entire court? What if the prince hated her? Or what if she hated him, if he was cruel and vile?

Her anxiety-ridden thoughts were interrupted by her carriage passing through the castle walls, into an open courtyard where an entourage of people were waiting to welcome her, including her betrothed and the royal family. She hastily let go of the curtain, closing it and blocking her view of the group of people awaiting her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for her name to be announced for her to exit the coach and finally meet her future husband. When it did happen, her door was opened, and one of the servants came to help her out of the carriage. When her feet landed on the ground, she smoothed her skirts and looked in the direction of the royal family. There stood the queen Alicent Hightower, wearing a beautiful and modest dark green dress, and a welcoming smile on her face. On her right stood a tall, older man, also supporting green clothes and a golden broach in his doublet, meaning that he could be none other than Otto Hightower, the queen’s father and the Hand of the King. She also sees who she can surmise to be prince Aegon and princess Helaena, and their three small children. Prince Aegon seems bored, like he wishes to not be there, while princess Helaena has a distant but sweet expression on her face, and her youngest son, Maelor, in her arms.

In the middle of them all, stood a man who was undeniably her husband-to-be. He was tall and slender, though strong, had long silver hair, a handsome face, and an indigo eye. Eye, a singular one. The other one was covered by an eye patch, which fails to conceal the whole of the scar that peeks from above his brow and down his left cheek. She takes a few steps in their direction, and makes a deep and elegant courtesy, keeping her eyes down to show respect. When she corrected her posture and lifted her eyes again, she made eye contact with her betrothed. He had a blank, aloof expression on his face, she could not tell what he was thinking, and it scared her a bit. In her restlessness, she gave him a small, polite smile, and turned her gaze to his right, where his mother was. She was immediately greeted by the queen's warm brown eyes, and her kind expression.

“We welcome you, Lady Stark, to our home and to our family. We hope you enjoy yourself, and may we grow close to one another.” The queen spoke to her, with a gentle but firm voice.

Anora smiled at the older woman, and at her family.

“Thank you, your grace. You are the most kind. I also hope that we may grow into a happy union, and I will follow my duty as the future princess in the meanwhile”.

After all the courtesies and gentilities are exchanged, Anora is instructed to her chambers. Her rooms are large and welcoming, having a lot of light, warm and rich furniture, and a large and comfortable looking bed. She was gifted a sleeping chamber, a sitting chamber, and a dining room, as well as some castle maids. She had brought along two of her lady’s of company from Winterfell, Audra Whitehill and Moira Woolfield, who were her friends since childhood, but the extra hands and company pleased her. She knew not to get too accustomed with her new rooms, since she would be moved to her husband's chambers once they got married. When the door of her room closed and she was left by herself for the time being, she took her shoes and jewelry off and laid in her new bed.

There was to be a welcoming feast later in the evening, to celebrate her arrival and her betrothal to the prince. But for now she intended to rest, and maybe calm her nerves before she was to encounter him again. The way he looked at her, and the lack of expression on his face still haunted her. What did he think of her? Did he find her beautiful? Did he have a good first impression, or was he displeased with her? She turned to her side, unable to fall asleep. She was overthinking it, she had to rest to be in her best mood during the feast. Anora blew the candles on her bedside table and laid a blanket over her body, before finally falling asleep.

She was awoken a few hours later by her lady’s, in order for her to get ready for the banquet. They bathed her, dressed her, brushed her hair and styled it, painted and treated her face in order to enhance her natural beauty. In the end, Anora felt splendid. She was dressed in a soft blue, almost gray dress that matched her eyes. Her jewelry was simple but beautiful, made of silver and engraved with delicate patterns. Her hair was half up in a conglomerate of elegant braids that crowned her head, while the other half fell down her back in her natural curls. In her face, they applied some cream rouge to her cheeks, eyelids and lips, and brushed her eyebrows. She hoped that her betrothed would find her appearance pleasant. When she expressed her wishes to Moira, she whispered back:

“How could he not? Look at you Anora! He would stupid if he found you anything less than breathtaking.”

They giggled like little girls at this, and Anora felt her anxieties calm down a bit. When the time struck, one of her guards knocked at her door to tell her that she had to leave for the feast now. She made her way to the throne room, where the celebration was taking place, with her household guards at both her sides. When she arrived just outside the room, one of the royal guards told her to wait there until her name was announced, then, and only then, was she allowed to go through the doors and enter the throne room, where her betrothed was already seated.

The nerves came back, and she started to feel her hands getting sweaty. She made a last effort to look as presentable as possible, smoothing her skirts, adjusting her bustle, retouching her hair and her jewelry. Finally, after what felt like hours, her name and titles were announced to the court, and the double doors opened.

She started walking at a slow but sure pace, being careful not to trip in her skirts while also keeping her eyes up. She could see him sitting in the middle of the dais, and she noticed that he was already looking at her. His eye held no negative emotion, but it also didn’t show any positive one. It just stared at her and at her every move. She refused to break eye contact, and held it even when she stopped in front of the grand table installed on the foot of the Iron Throne, and curtsied for the royal family.