Chapter Text
Dear Uncle,
I am sorry about the pain I caused you and that you have lost your eye, but I will not lie and say I regret protecting my brother. If it was Helaena in danger, wouldn’t you do the same? I didn’t mean to take your eye, Uncle. I didn’t aim for it. Please believe me at least in that.
Life in Dragonstone is different. Some days it’s so foggy you can’t see anything, but the castle is always warm and sometimes I can hear the dragons. Arrax is getting bigger and he’s happy. I’m trying, but the loss of Father has been painful. I miss him more than anything in this world.
I don’t know what else to say. I hope the maesters are helping you.
Your nephew,
Lucerys Velaryon
Uncle Aemond,
I overheard someone telling Mother and Daemon about how proficient you have gotten at the sword and wanted to write to congratulate you. It’s been four years since the accident, Uncle, and you never replied to my letter. I imagine you are too angry with me to do so. I wish it could be different, but I understand. I often think about that night and the outcome of it. Truth be told, I miss the days before Driftmark, when Father was alive and you still talked to me.
When I wrote the first letter, the subject was still too delicate to ask, so I will do so now. How is Vaghar? I imagine you are very happy, bonded to the biggest dragon there is. Do you fly often? I recently took my first flight with Arrax and it was the best feeling in the world.
I am sorry this is how things are.
Hoping you are well,
Lucerys Velaryon
Aemond,
Mother has informed us we are going to King’s Landing in a week’s time and why. When Grandsire wakes, he will be furious at Vaemond.
I was hoping we could talk while I am there. It will never be the same, but at least we can try to be civil to one another. I hear the King is not getting better and it seems my mother’s rule approaches fast. Let us show unity as we prepare the realm for the change to come, Uncle.
It wouldn’t do any harm if you, for once, answered my letters.
Lucerys
Aemond’s hand shook as he read the last sentence of the third letter addressed to his name but never reached him. Tucked away in one of his mother’s chests, the letters were neatly folded and kept hidden. The first one, written six years prior, was yellowed. The apology Aemond always wanted in a child’s scribble and the raw honesty of it. Lucerys was sorry about his eye, but not about attacking him in defense of his brother. Deep under the rage, the grief, the pain, Aemond respected his nephew’s words. So much so that he found no resentment after reading the letter once more.
Not towards Lucerys anyway. The boy he murdered.
His vision blurred with tears but the memories were crystal clear. The rain, the chase, how he’d laughed at Lucerys’ fear. And the dread that quickly took over him when Vaghar disobeyed. The emptiness when he realized his nephew was dead and he was the reason.
Turning on his heel, he set out to find his mother and demand an explanation. He would find her soon enough. Either she was at the Sept, praying to her good for nothing Gods, or she haunted the council chambers, despite Aemond telling her presence was no longer necessary there. She disobeyed Aemond, and it enraged him. For years, she had recited the reasons his wretched sister Rhaenyra, a woman, couldn’t be in power but here she was. Clinging to it like a hungry babe. All those years getting into their brains that Aegon – that drunken fool – was the rightful king, for her to scoff at his first show of depravity as one.
And when Aemond made sure his idiot brother was too injured to rule and stepped in to fix his mistakes, he was met with her intentions to interfere.
She sat at the head of the table and looked shocked to see him.
“Aemond,” she said as a greeting. “I didn’t know you called for a council. I was just–”
He interrupted before she could continue her nonsense. “You were just defying my commands. You shouldn’t be here, Queen Mother. Let alone in that chair.”
She remained seated, as he had suspected. He walked towards her briskly and threw the letters in front of her.
“Explain this.”
She looked at him confused and reached for the letters. At the first line, she dropped the parchment and looked at him in shock.
“How did you find these? Were you in my rooms?”
“Evidently,” he answered. “I do not trust you, Queen Mother. You make stupid decisions and I decided to search your recent communications to avoid, let’s say, more disaster coming from your hands.”
“How dare you?” She seethed at him. “Was I the one who murdered Rhaenyra’s son in cold blood, Aemond? No. Was I the reason your sister is now in pain? No. Did I come back with a broken King? No.”
He leaned closer to her and grabbed one of the letters, bringing it to her face.
“Explain. This.”
She pushed him away and stood, putting distance between him.
“Father and I, we thought it best not to show you.”
“Why?”
“At first, to let you heal without the burden of the bastard’s words,” she said. “Later on, we came to realize that your rage at the lack of apology seemed to motivate you to overcome your…” she trailed off and motioned at the left side of her face. She was the first to tell him to hide the hideousness of his missing eye behind the patch. “It made you excel at everything else.”
He moved faster than she could and grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. “You vicious woman. You and your lowly father,” he growled.
“I am your mother!” She screamed back. “Unhand me. Now.”
“What else are you hiding? What else did you plot?” In response, she slapped him, on his scarred side.
“How dare you speak to me like that? The Mother have mercy on you.”
“It is you who should fear your Gods, Queen Mother,” he said in a whisper and paused before his next and final words to her. “Now they see you as are.” Aemond, too, saw her as she was.
Perhaps it was the echo of Rhaenyra’s words that fateful night. Perhaps it was the fact that her own son condemned her. Or maybe it was the guilt of all she had caused coming down like stones on her.
She slapped him again. This time, much more forcefully.
The look on her face was that of a haunted soul, one that would never find forgiveness for her many sins. What was another thing Rhaenyra had said? Hiding beneath the cloak of her own righteousness.
His damned sister had been right about that, too, at least.
He left the Queen Mother there, in her tears and in her guilt. He had no more words for her.
It would be the last time they saw each other.
He took the letters with him. Harrenhal awaited him.