my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 1.
aemond targaryen x fem!reader
genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, eventual smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.
When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.
And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.
warnings. no warnings yet!
wc. 10k+ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09
--
“It looks like a storm is heading this way,” Dorothea Mormont murmurs with a frown, her eyes set up above at the darkened sky, clouds of swirling greys gradually covering the sunlight. Sitting up from under a tree she had been reading by, she dusts herself off before picking up the skirt of her dress and then turns to the little girl close by her, drawing on the ground with a stick. “Come. We should head inside.”
You huff in frustration, ignoring your elder sister and continue on the mountains you already laid out on the dirt. You feel her stare for a couple more seconds before she calls your name sternly.
Stomping your feet, you cross your arms and glare at her. “But Dorothea … The day had just begun!”
You hated it. The start of the winter season in the North has been strange so far, but maybe even more so on Bear Island.
Instead of the falling of white and soft snow, it had been raining slates of hail. The temperature going from warm enough to go on out without your furs in the morn to your fingers and toes feeling frost bitten once noon hits the horizon. Your favourite season, summer, came and went so quickly that you had not enjoyed it in the fullest like you had earlier years; and autumn was merely a blink of an eye.
There is not much to do for a young lady such as yourself, only ten and two, when the cold comes around. Staying indoors is such a bore, and your mother would only allow you a few hours every other day to train with Ser Gregory and your brothers outdoors, unlike your older siblings who could stay out all day and night with duties they have outside the castle grounds.
A kind yet pitying smile spreads on your sister’s pretty face. She then walks over to you, taking a hold of your freezing hands, tenderly rubbing them in between her own to warm you up.
“I know, little cub. But look—“ you follow her gaze, at the training grounds a few yards away, where your three older brothers were practicing their swordsmanship with some of the others of the castle, but are now putting away their equipment. “It seems everyone else is done for the day as well.”
As if feeling eyes on him, the second oldest, Forrest, turns towards the two of you and waves, exuberant like always, before cupping his hands around his mouth to call out, “We’ve been called inside! A storm is coming!”
Dorothea rolls her eyes at her twin, mutters under her breath about how obvious that is. When she hears you giggle, she smiles your way. “Let’s go? I promise I’ll allow you to use my paints once we get inside.”
That has you excited, nodding happily, finally letting her guide you to your home, hand in hand.
--
Much to your displeasure to admit, it was a good thing that your sister had made haste inside when you had. For only an hour later, the harsh winds and flurry of snow surrounded the area, rattling Mormont Keep noisily. This blizzard more ruthless than any you have seen before.
It is night now, you are back in your bedchamber after supper and a hot bath. The tubes of paint and easel that Dorothea had promised you is abandoned in favor of staring out your window. A deep scowl mars your young face – a perfect mirror of your father’s whenever he has a tough decision to make, like when he had to travel to King’s Landing for two moons just to bend the knee to the Dragon girl-queen to be – knowing it would days before you step foot outside again.
Glaring out the window, you could see nothing but snow. Even the Godswoods that would always greet you when you peered outside cannot be seen tonight. It makes you wary for the all the animals out there – especially the bears like in your House’s sigil – hoping they are safe and sound, hibernating comfortably.
It’s too cold. You shiver, pulling the blanket you had draped around you closer to your body – and then that’s when you see it.
The flash of red outside in the sky, like burning flames, so vivid that it is visible through the stormy haze. Then a magnificent roar, louder than anything you have heard before, leading to another burst of orange and reds bright enough for you to witness something falling from the skies.
And as if something takes over your body — you don’t know what — that has you getting up, hurriedly lacing up your boots and grabbing your heaviest furs. You are already out the door and running through the halls when your older brother by two years, Jorah, exclaims behind you when he peeks out of his own bedchamber, “Did you all hear that, too?!”
You do not respond, almost colliding with your oldest brother, Braeden, when you reach the wooden staircase leading down to the main floor of the castle. By the look on his face, it seems that he too had seen whatever it was that fell from the sky. He checks you over, notices the furs you got on, and he just knew what you were about to do. He shakes his head slowly, says your name cautiously and then a warning, “ Wait— “
But it is already too late, your little legs carry you down the stairs, faster than he could catch up. You were always a spritely little menace when you wanted to be. Landing on the ground floor, you pass by your father who whips to look at you and the direction you are heading, calling out your name as well. But you don’t listen, don’t stop, not when you know that whatever it was out there that fell from the sky is all alone, out in the bitter cold.
You make it to the two large doors of the entrance, pressing yourself against it but it does not budge. The two guards on stand by on each of the two wooden pillars a few steps away from the doors are surprised at the sight of you, exchanging a look, but ultimately stays by their post because they know you, and this is not the first time you tried to escape the keep in plain sight. Besides, you are too small and weak to budge the door even slightly – especially now, with the winds outside pushing back against your hardest effort.
But then suddenly, the doors do start to move, and when you open your eyes in astonishment, thinking it is all you – you see that it was actually Forrest. With a smirk on his face, he throws a playful wink your way.
A wide smile spreads on your lips; of course it’s him! Being the total opposite of his twin, Forrest is always joining in your foolish plans, humoring you without knowing (or caring) about the consequences.
And this… This will probably have a huge consequence, you think as the double doors blow wide open, letting in the merciless storm inside your home.
The guards are flabbergasted, both taking a second to realize what just happened, watching you and Forrest make a break for it.
“Lord Forrest! Lady—”
You hear them behind you, following, but you keep running, surprisingly matching pace with your most athletic brother even if the blizzard is trying to slow you down.
“Little cub, where are we going?” Forrest asks in between labored breaths, arm in front of him to try to block the heavy wind blowing against him that is making him exert so much more energy.
You were faring much worse, the built up of fallen snow already at your kneecaps but you push through. So at his question, you try to pinpoint in your mind where on Bear Island that the fallen thing could have landed. You should know it. You know your home like it is the back of your hand… C’mon, you chastise yourself, THINK!
Then an image of a place pops in your head, and you know for sure that is where it should be.
“Beyond the castle walls! In the woods! Where Jorah fell off the tree and broke his ankle!”
Forrest knows exactly where you mean, making him frown. “That is pretty far, sister–”
“Forrest! You imbecile !”
Forrest looks behind him, laughing at the angry Braeden hot on your heels. He could turn you around — knows he should, for every second spent outside more dangerous than the last — but something about pissing Braeden off seems a lot more fun at the moment.
He runs a bit ahead of you, stopping with his back turned towards you and bends his knees. “Hop on!”
You do as he says, jumping on his back and he makes sure to secure his hold on you before he starts again. Soon enough the two of you are at the gigantic logged entrance of the castle walls, still open. They had not a chance to shut it earlier, waiting for some of the men to return from their hunt. But once they all got inside, it was far too late for the men still outdoors to close it together when they needed to seek shelter fast.
Just as you pass the carving of the woman dressed in bearskin with a child on the gates, you feel yourself getting pulled back. At your shock, your grip on Forrest loosens and before you know it the both of you land on your backs on the snowy ground. It is Braeden’s seething glare you see when your eyes open after the big tumble. But although very clearly angry, he pulls both you and Forrest up on your feet.
“What the hell are you two doing?!” Braeden seethes while looking between his two younger siblings. Neither of you look him in the eyes – Forrest looks down in shame and you are looking beyond him as if he is not even in front of you. “Are you trying to get killed or are you both just daft?!”
“We were just–”
“Don’t even answer that,” Braeden shuts Forrest down, not wanting to hear any dumb excuses for the rhetorical question he asked. “Now get your feet moving back to the keep or else I’ll kill you before the storm does—”
And your feet do get moving — but in the opposite direction of your home. Braeden swiftly grabs your shoulders from either side and makes you face him directly.
“Are your ears broken?! Are you not gonna listen to me?!” He yells in your face. Braeden does not know what has gotten into you. Forrest, he can see him doing this. But you… You are always one to do as you are told. Sure, you would occasionally throw a fit but are never outright disobedient like this. But tonight, you are the mastermind of this stupidity.
And even now, even as he is up in your face, your eyes are still darting from his and then to the darkened entrance into the woods. His grip on you tightens, terrified that you’ll run off again if given the chance. He says your name to try to get your attention, and that is when another roar shakes up the island.
It sounds so mournful, wounded, and hearing it causes your heart to pick up in a panic, your breathing getting heavier.
“We have to…” You trail off, trying to pull away from your eldest brother. He keeps you in place, gesturing at the two guards who had just caught up for help with a gesture of his head.
“No, we have to go back inside.”
“But Braeden–”
“No,” he cuts you off, this time his word sounding more final.
Or it should be. You know it should be because Braeden is not only the oldest but the wisest of your siblings and you should not argue with him. But you just can’t… You just can’t sit by and just let this go.
You look him straight in the eyes, back straightening to feel more confident in your stance of defiance. “But you saw it didn’t you?! The thing that fell from the sky!”
“ And…? ” His brows furrow together as his head shakes incredulously. “What about it? What if it’s dangerous?”
Another beastly cry resounds, proving his point.
“You hear that? That’s a dragon—”
“And a bloody big one at that—”
“Shut up, Forrest. I don’t want to hear a word from you.”
“But what if it’s—”
“What if it’s what?!” It was you who Braeden snaps at this time, only to turn to see your watery gaze, and he is not sure if it’s because of the harsh wind on your face or if it's something else.
“I don’t know! ” You choke out with a sob, and he gets his answer. You are upset and in distress, worried for the unknown. “But something – or someone – out there needs help! Our help! ” You scream over the wailing winds in your eardrums. The tears are flowing freely down your face now, and it is clear you are having a hard time breathing, on the brink of hyperventilating, “Please, Braeden, please… They’re all alone and probably scared and –”
Braeden is not one to be swayed by tears. And this will not be the first.
It is your bravery that makes him change his mind.
He takes a shuddering sigh, silently praying to the Gods that if you all make out of the woods alive, that his mother would not finish the job.
“Alright, little cub,” Braeden presents his hand to you with a small smile. “Then let us help them. Together.”
Brightening up slightly, you take his hand, head bobbing in determination.
--
The journey to the far eastern side of Bear Island where the willow tree that Jorah fell from and broke his ankles just three moons ago is going to be quite a perilous task. Climbing down the steep jagged hills that borders one of the rivers that runs through Bear Island and then crossing across said river has always been intensely tough, more so now with the blizzard picking up. Luckily one the guards that accompanied you and your brothers, Tylor, used to be a part of the group of woodcutters that traverse that part of the island before he took the post to guard your family. He leads your group now, navigating a path that even you could easily keep up with.
Soon enough, you make it closer and closer to where you needed to be, and another howl from the sorrowful dragon lets your group determine just how close you are.
You weren’t far off from your prediction, passing the willow tree to go a bit more north. That is where you find the most gigantic and terrifying creature you have ever seen in your life.
The dark green-bronze dragon laid on the ground and has made a clearing for itself with all the trees it had trampled flat. As soon as Braeden - who is the head of the group - steps foot in its newfound territory, its ferocious eyes snap your way, a low rumbling of a warning in its throat. “Well, shit…” Forrest blurts out in awe, exchanging a look with Braeden. “I do not think we are wanted here.”
Braeden sighs with a nod, glancing back at the dragon and seeing nothing amiss – except, you know, just the dragon – then looks down towards you. “I’m sorry, little cub. It seems this was all for naught.”
Your lips tremble, confused because you know you saw something fall. “But we saw it fall, and it wasn’t just the dragon!”
“It must have been its droppings,” Forrest jokes through his chattering teeth. “Scared shitless because of the storm.”
You glare at him, hating how he could be right. Is that really just what you saw?
“My Lords, my Lady. We should head back now before your Lady Mother has our heads,” the second guard, Howland, pipes up; sounding more scared of your mother than the beast up ahead.
Braeden agrees with him, making a motion for you all to turn around to retrace your steps back to Mormont Keep. This time you do not argue.
But you glance back one last time, watching the dragon watching you, raising its head slightly off the ground as it huffs in satisfaction at your retreat. Then that is when you see it – a tiny hand, lifting up to caress the underside of the dragon’s neck before it falls back limp. You couldn’t really make out what it was, the snow obstructing your vision of whatever it is on the ground that the dragon is curled up around, protective. But it seems small – young.
You are running again before you, yourself, could even comprehend what you are doing.
As you weave through the fallen trees, your brothers and the guards try to follow – but another angry growl from the now alert dragon freeze you all in your place.
“Turn around now ,” Braeden seethes at you, eyes between you and the dragon that is now slowly getting up, looking like it’s getting ready to lunge. He moves his body just an inch, not even taking a step forward, and the dragon still gives a roar of fury.
But you were close enough now that when you squint your eyes to see better, you can see that the dragon is definitely coiled around someone. A human.
“There’s someone there!” You call back to your brothers.
“What?!”
“The dragon is protecting them…” You trail off, notice them shivering violently.
They do not look like they are in good shape.
The sight has the urgency coursing through your veins, taking a tentative and slow step forward. The dragon keeps its eyes on you, but doesn’t make a sound this time. Perhaps foolish on your part, but this has you rationalizing that it is allowing you to come closer.
“Stop being stupid!” You hear Forrest behind you and the snap of a tree branch being stepped on. That has the dragon snapping its jaw forward – though not towards you but at your companions. When they stop moving, it focuses on you again, huffing and tilting its chin down, towards the child hidden underneath it to protect them from the cold. A whimper vibrates the dragon’s throat, and that is when you knew . It wants you — and only you — to help.
Your feet keep moving now, not in a sprint but faster than a walk. You hear your brothers calling your name but you just shout back that you’ll be okay, that you can do it alone. For some inexplicable reason, you knew in your heart that the dragon would not harm you.
You are closer now, close enough to truly take in how enormous this creature is. Are all dragons this big? 10 of them can probably cover the whole entirety of Bear Island. Maybe less.
Shaking your head, you focus on the more important task at hand than mathematics. Getting to whoever it is the dragon is protecting.
You quicken up your pace and you finally reach the foot of the dragon. It moves slightly, pushing a log aside to give you an easier path to where the child lays beneath it. It bends its neck down, pushing you with its snout with another huff as if saying, hurry .
You are not cautious anymore, running full speed ahead and find a young boy who looks not much older than yourself at the center of the nest the dragon had made. His hair and skin were as pale as the snow on the ground that was not scorched with the dragon’s fire and clothes dark enough to just seem like a piece of fallen wood or a big rock. It’s no wonder none of you could see him earlier.
Dread fills you up, noticing he is not moving at all. Not even a shiver shook him. You quickly crash beside him, knees hitting the ground in a way that should hurt but you don’t feel it. With your own decreasing strength — finally feeling the chill slowing and weighing down your body – you pull him towards you, his upper body lying precariously on your lap.
“Wake up, please… Please, wake up…” you murmur to him, eyes filling with heated tears. You caress his face, your thumb rubbing across his cheek, just below the line of a scar running through his right eye. It is a healed one, so it wasn’t from the fall. At least there is that. But as you push his bangs off his face, you find blood gushing from his temple. Feeling sick, you try to check how bad it is, pressing your fingers around the cut. While you inspect, that’s when the boy starts to stir slightly.
Frozen, you stare at his face as his unscarred eye starts to move from behind the lid. Then he is blinking, slow and blearily, until it opens and you are greeted with the most vivid shade of violet. Your heart jumps to your throat as his head tilts and looks at you with the softest gaze, murmuring,
“ Enke..litsos... ? ”
Before you can ask what he means, his eye flutters shut again, though not before you see the light in them dimming. A sob wrecks through your body, pulling him into a tight embrace. Hoping and praying that would not be the last time you see that beautiful lilac eye.
--
The murmurings at the other side of the wooden door that you have your ear pressed against is way too quiet. Your little fists clenched at your sides tightly so, frustrated that you are having trouble eavesdropping on the conversation.
It has almost been two hours since you, your brothers, and the guards had burst through the entrance of your home, shocking your family at the sight of an unconscious young boy that they have never seen before carried on Forrest’s back. It has almost been two hours, and you still do not know the fate of the boy that you had saved.
Did you actually even save him? Is he even still alive ?
You try not to think about how he was so cold to the touch, the blue of his lips, the light leaving his violet eye.
You have never been so scared before. It must have been evident in your sobbing and desperate calls for your brothers’ help as you struggled to lift the boy up by yourself that the dragon finally allowed them to come to you.
You remember the intense look in the dragon’s eyes as it watched you leave its territory. You knew it had been holding back, choosing to trust you to take care of the boy who is clearly important to it.
Was the dragon wrong to put its trust on you to save the boy it had been fiercely protecting?
You thump your forehead against the door, pressing hard on it enough to hurt as you blink away the incoming tears.
“Oi, stop doing that.”
You glance over to the side where Braeden sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the wall beside the door. He looks absolutely exhausted.
Being the oldest, Braeden got the brunt of the scolding. Your mother did not know whether to be angry at her children’s foolish venture or praiseful that said foolish venture might have saved a person’s life. So she settled for both, which was more frightening in the long run.
“You should go to sleep,” you tell him, turning your head to once again frown at the door as if it offended you. “Forrest already has.”
He chuckles. “As you should, as well. A little cub needs to hibernate, you know? To grow big and strong.”
You take a deep inhale, ignoring him. Or you try to. Maybe if you were strong enough then maybe…
“He is in good hands,” Braeden says aloud after a few minutes of silence. “Remember, Maester Garland is the reason our great-grandfather lived to be 102.”
It is not that you did not think Maester Garland is incompetent, it is that you think you were not fast enough to bring the boy to the maester to treat to the best of his capabilities. Your group did take the riskier path back home, in an obvious hurry, but you are afraid that was not enough.
You are about to tell your oldest brother what has been weighing down on your mind, when the door suddenly opens, startling you to take a step back with a gasp.
At the sight of the two of you, your mother heavily sighs.
“When did my two most obedient children stop listening to me?” She murmurs mostly to herself but obviously intending for you and your brother to hear her.
“Our names are not Dorothea One and Dorothea Two ,” you remind her haughtily. You might be pushing it now, but you could not hold back, your frustration from waiting so long taking over you. When Braeden laughs at your jest, your mother narrows her eyes at the both of you.
She could not even reply back, as you are already trying to push past her and into the room. You don’t get very far though, her arm barring you from entering.
“The boy needs his rest, and you do too, young lady,” she says, foregoing your familial pet name. Whenever someone does that, you know they are obviously not in the mood to coddle you or they are seriously upset with you. Your mother is both at the moment.
But her tone does not even phase you, when all you could really focus on is her words:
The boy needs his rest.
So does that mean…?
“So he is alright?” Your brother asks, beating you to it.
While he stands up from the ground, your mother answers, “He will be–” her stern gaze resting on you, “-- if his rest is uninterrupted–”
“Did he awaken!?” You ask excitedly, and she hushes you quickly with a glare, pressing a finger to her lips. You quickly slap a hand over your mouth, looking into the room, but all you see is Maester Garland and your father coming out of it.
Just as your father is about to close the door, you manage a quick peek into the guest chamber. They had moved the bed closer to the fireplace in the room, but you do not see the boy. The headboard of the bed hiding him from your view. At least you know he will be warm.
“He has not yet awakened–” Your face drops, turning to Maester Garland. Like always, there is a kind smile on his face, and he continues, “But if it will ease you, My Lady, he is breathing evenly and is even talking in his sleep. I will not lie to you, his left arm is broken and so are a few ribs. But all that will heal in due time.”
Your father clasps his hand on your shoulder, shaking you out of your worry. “Forrest broke his ribs and it only took a moon to heal, remember that?”
You nod, remembering it all too well. The heated fight that broke out between your brother and the youngest Stark boy, Willam. It was the first time you have ever seen your brother being truly angry and you often wondered what had really transpired between them, what words were exchanged.
“And what of the wound on his head?” Braeden asks, breaking you out of the memory.
“Luckily it is just a minor cut. There is no sign of a hemorrhage or anything too serious. But I will be checking again in the morrow to make certain.”
Braeden hums, seemingly more at ease now with the new information. He smiles your way. “You hear that, little cub? He will be alright.”
Though you nod, you look downcast, gnawing at your lip.
You feel hands on your shoulders, and when you peer in front of you, it is not your father, but your mother bending down to be at your height.
“You did well,” she begins, causing your eyes to well up. “Although I’m still upset at you; you were a very brave and wonderful girl today, little cub.”
“I think she takes after you, my love,” your father says, chuckling. “You would have done the same thing in her shoes.”
Your mother laughs as she tugs you into her warm embrace. You squeeze her back tightly.
“Now, shall I tuck you into bed?”
Feeling sleepiness overtake you now, you allow your mother to take you by the hand. As the two of you walk away, you hear the three left behind still conversing behind you.
“I really do hope the blizzard passes soon so I can send a raven to King’s Landing. His family must be worried sick.”
“King’s Landing? I thought the boy did not wake…?”
“He does not need to wake for us to know who he is. There is no doubt about it. The boy… He is who they call One-Eye. The King’s youngest son—”
Heartbeat quickening, his name starts to echo in your head as soon as you hear your father utter it.
Prince Aemond Targaryen.
--
You had thought the stories you heard about the one-eyed Targaryan Prince were just that — stories.
You had never believed them, always scoffing whenever Septa Earla caught you taking an extra piece of pie and her reminding you that your greed will someday lead you to be like One-Eye; the prince who stole a dragon from a dead girl and in turn lost his own eye for it. You had thought it was such a stupid tale. Who would not trade an eye for a dragon? How could you even steal a dragon in the first place?
But now, you think about that ferocious and colossal creature in that clearing. The mere thought of the young prince stealing it makes no sense to you. Not only is he smaller than yourself, but you highly doubt the dragon would allow anyone to just “steal” it, whatever that entails. No, you think about the protectiveness the dragon has over the young boy, and you have the feeling that whatever it is that transpired between the prince and the mighty beast is not a one-way devious act. They have a bond that your Septa’s silly, little cautionary tale could never comprehend.
Then that has you thinking, wondering what made this Aemond Targaryen so special enough to have a dragon so loyal to him. It cannot just be because he is a prince, right? Is it because of his bloodline? You remember learning something about the Targaryens and their bloodline, how they came from an old and ruined city in the East. Or something like that… Perhaps you should have listened to those lessons closer, but you did not really care for history like Jorah does…
So you think, and think, and overthink so hard that you could not get a wink of sleep, tossing and turning in your bed.
You need to know more about Aemond Targaryen.
Huffing, you finally sit up. It is early in the morning now, and if the blizzard was not still ravaging hard outside, the sun would be beginning to rise in just an hour. Which means that although there would be a few in the Keep slowly awakening to start their day, there would still be a chance for you to sneak out of your chamber without being seen.
Pulling your blankets off you and hopping out of bed, you are quick yet light footed when you leave your bedchamber. Luckily, the room that the Targaryen Prince is currently in is close by yours, just five doors down the hall. You slip into his room like a ghost, barely making any sound.
As soon as the door closes behind you, you find yourself pressing up against it. You have always been too hasty, not thinking your plans through. But this one might be stupider than the one you had last night, traversing out in the blizzard… Barging into a room without consent. Not only was it improper, but it was rude and you were taught better. If your parents were not disappointed in you before, they would most definitely be now. Besides, it is not like he is awake to answer all the burning questions you came in here to ask.
So you decide to just leave, come back when he is lucid enough for company.
Though before you can open the door, you hear him start to stir behind you, whimpering in discomfort. You are swift to turn right back around, rushing to check on him.
The young prince looks better than the last time you saw him – color has returned to his complexion – but he still looks unwell. He lays there, a pained look pinching his sleeping face and a sling around his arm. Although for you it feels sweltering in the room, Aemond is still shivering as if still out in the cold. It has your heart clenching at the sight.
Worriedly, you touch his face with the back of your hand, gasping when you feel just how cold he still really is.
You take a hold of his hand closest to you - luckily, it is the one that is not broken - keeping it in between your hands as you start to try to rub the cold away. This always made you feel better whenever your loved ones did it to you, it always brought a warm feeling in your chest.
It seems to be working. As you continue, the tension between his brows relaxes slightly due to your touch. The silver-haired prince looks a bit more at peace now. A sigh of relief falls from your parted lips.
You keep at it for a bit, only stopping when a yawn creeps up on you. That is when you realize how tired you are now, body feeling heavy and head full of fluff. You should go anyway, before anyone finds you in there.
But when you go to pull your hand away, the once loose hold of his hand in yours tightens, keeping you in place. You try again and again to pry yourself away but his grip on you will not let up. For someone so small, it surprises you how strong he seems.
Finally, after a couple more minutes of trying and him not budging, you groan as you give up. Standing in place, you grow even more exhausted, and it has you looking around. You will not sit yourself on the bed beside him, even if there is room; but you cannot stand there anymore. That is when you spot a stool just beside his bed. It must have been the one Maester Garland had been sitting on when he was tending to the young prince. With your leg stretching, you manage to catch your foot around a leg to bring it closer to you.
Once you sit down, you heave another sigh, wondering to yourself how you got into this predicament. Then you laugh to yourself, remembering it was all you.
Soon, you start to slump on the stool, eyelids drooping until it closes.
So it is there where you finally fall asleep, holding onto the prince’s hand.
--
“ Nngh..? ” The feeling of your hand getting squeezed causes you to stir awake. Your eyes blink open slowly, the wet feel of drool running down the side of your cheek that is pressed against soft fur. After wiping the gross feeling, you sit up, groaning with a stretch to alleviate the ache in your back — only to register that you could not, as the unfamiliar hand holding your own prevented you from doing so.
Confused, your gaze follows where your hand is connected, only half-remembering where you are. That is when you catch a lilac eye staring wide-eyed at you, a flush of pink high on the prince’s cheeks. The sight causes you startle with a gasp, so surprised to see him awake. The prince flinches minutely at your reaction, snatching his hand away from yours, head turning the other way, not facing you anymore.
You are too ecstatic to question it, not even noticing, so overjoyed that he is sitting up and awake and alive .
“Are you–”
“What happened to it?”
Your head tilts in confusion, but it is not like he can see it. “It…?” Then you realize, “Oh! The dragon?!” You glance out the window, the snow storm still wrecking havoc outside. You frown a little, murmuring as you look back at him, “I’m sure it’s fine… I hope so…”
His head to you, glaring as he snaps, “No, I don’t mean Vhagar. I know she’s fine. But…” He turns away again, for some reason unable to look at you for long, letting his hair fall to cover his face. “Where is it? My patch…”
“Your patch…?”
“Do not lie to me. It is an unforgivable offense to lie to a prince, you know,” he threatens. You see his hand that was once holding yours now clenching at the fur blanket covering him. “So give me back my eyepatch or else I’ll…” He takes a deep breath, and you are not sure if he is letting you fill in the blank to scare you more or if he just could not think of a punishment.
You sit up, pushing the stool back with the heels of your foot to create a bit of distance between the two of you. He lifts his head up slightly at the sound of the legs of the stool scratching the floor.
“When I found you, you were not wearing an eyepatch,” you let him know, frowning. It irritated you that he was accusing you of something you had no knowledge of, that all his ire is directed towards you. But you tell yourself to show kindness because of how terrified he must be feeling, being in an unfamiliar place – and injured, nonetheless. “It must have fallen off while you were falling. I’m sorry, but I do not have it.”
He takes a swallow at that, head turning to face you again, his violet eye on you while the other side of his face still obscured by his silver hair. “ You … You were the one that found me?”
You give him a tentative nod, nervous that he will accuse you of something else.
“So you are…” His face softens a bit as he mutters to himself just as soft, “ Enkelitsos… ”
Though quiet, you hear him. You were about to ask him what that means — for it is the second time you had heard him say it — but a knock on the door has your mouth clamping shut. Both your head turns, watching the door open. In comes Maester Garland, who stops short at the sight of the two of you.
Attention on you, the Maester huffs out a slight chuckle, “I should have known you’d be here, Lady—“
At the sound of your name, the young Prince perks up, glancing at you through the corner of his eye.
“I just got here!” You lie. Luckily, the only other one who knows the truth did not sell you out.
“I’m sure…” Maester Garland says with a smile. “I think everyone is breaking their fast now. Would you like to join them while I check over our young guest here? And you can come back with some food for him as well.”
Though it sounded like a suggestion, you knew it was really an order. So you nod, getting off the stool as you grin at the young Prince. “I’ll be back! I’ll get you the most delicious food, don’t you even worry about it!”
He looks at you in mild surprise, nodding back. Then you are running out the door, the Prince watching you until you are out of his sight.
--
A few days pass before the blizzard also passes, and your father is finally able to send a raven to King’s Landing in regard to Prince Aemond. He writes about what had happened, how Aemond is doing, and Maester Garland’s professional opinion of allowing Aemond to heal on Bear Island for a moon before sending him back home. Your father also writes that he, himself, will be happy to take the Prince home with a few bannerman but if they have another plan, he is all ears for it.
While waiting for a letter back from King’s Landing, your family welcomes Aemond to your home, trying to make him feel as comfortable as possible. By his fifth day at Mormont Keep, he was told that he was well enough to eat with your family in the dining hall. At first he had politely refused, but on the eighth day, he timidly joined in the middle of dinner. By the end of that dinner, you can tell he was well entertained by Jorah’s and Forrest’s antics, and it was nice to see him laughing despite doing so seems to hurt his still healing ribs. He joined every family meal after that.
Prince Aemond and your brothers get along swimmingly, especially Forrest – which is not surprising because Forrest has a way of making a person feel like he is truly their best friend. Your parents and Dorothea also become quite fond of the young boy. Maester Garland likes how curious he is, always asking questions. Even Septa Earla has only nice things to say about him, warning you not to repeat the story she used to tell about him.
As you watch everyone around you get closer to the Targaryen prince, you can not help but feel envious. Ever since that first time the two of you talked, you never had again. But it is not like you have not tried. Because you have. Every. Single. Day.
Like clockwork, you visit him in his chamber every morning, trying not to let it get to you when he allows you inside after you knock, only to look away when he realizes it is you . You push through the cold shoulder he gives you; telling him about your day, reading to him your favorite books, showing off your latest embroideries or artworks — anything you can think of that would interest him. Honestly, it is like talking to a wall, but at least you know a wall has no choice but to not talk back.
It is upsetting. The only time you ever hear his voice is if he is talking to someone else. Even whenever you are in a group, he would only answer questions you asked if someone else repeats it after you.
You are not sure why he is treating you this way. It cannot just be because of the eye patch he accused you of keeping from him, right? Does he really just hate you? It hurts, but you pretend to everyone else that all is fine, only allowing the tears to flow when you are alone in your bedchamber at night.
You do not even know why you keep trying. You guess it is because the other kids on the island are either older or way too young to be your friend. Sure you have your siblings, but you’ve always wanted a best friend of your own like you have read in your books — and then Aemond fell from the sky, and it might be selfish but in your heart all this was fated for him to be that friend for you. Why else were you the one that saw him fall and the one who found him and the one his dragon, Vhagar, allowed to come to him?
Still, it was disheartening to be ignored. One can only take a number of rejections before giving up all hope.
So on the day that marks the second week that Aemond has been staying at Bear Island, you decide that this day will be the last time that you try to get through to him to become your friend. If he once again gives you the cold shoulder then you will leave him alone, forever.
Or at least until he leaves in a few weeks. Then after that, you’ll never have to see him ever again and with no effort on both your part. Because on that same morning, your father wakes you to tell you the news. They had just received a raven from King’s Landing and got word from the king himself that they trust your father’s words and are grateful for the care your house has given to the young Prince. He would like his son home sooner, but if the maester believes that a few more weeks to heal would be good for the boy then they’ll adhere to his suggestion.
Before he leaves for this morning duties, your father hands you a tiny scroll, telling you with a smile that he is trusting you to deliver it safely to the prince. It is a very important note from his mother and sister and it will definitely brighten up his day.
Maybe – just maybe – today will be the day , you think to yourself as you get ready. It is sunny outside, and you were also informed that Ser Gregory wants you to train with your brothers today. Not only that, you and Dorothea finally finished the little project you asked her to help you with last night. So once you are done getting dressed, you grab the scroll and the secret thing from inside your box full of your personal treasure before skipping excitedly out of your room.
“Come in,” you hear the muffled call out from the other side of the door you had just knocked. When you walk inside, you knew what you will be greeted with… Absolutely nothing. Once again, when the prince sees it is you, he looks away, pretending no one even came in the room as he quickly shuts the book he has in his hands.
You take a deep breath, trying to let it not bother you. At this point, you should be used to it by now.
You stride with purpose into the room, stopping beside where he sits at the desk. You hold your palm out, presenting the tiny scroll. You can see him eye it curiously.
“It is from your mother and sister,” you tell him. At that, he glances up at you, sees the kind smile on your face before sharply looking back down to cautiously take the note from your hand. While he pulls at the string, you let him know, “You’ll be staying for a couple more weeks so you can heal properly, then my father and a few of our bannerman will take you home.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “Lord Mormont already told me earlier.”
Your father already visited him? Then why did he not just give him the note then? You can’t help but playfully roll your eyes at your father’s antics. He must have known how hard you have been trying to befriend the prince.
As Aemond opens the note, you give him some privacy, turning away to look and touch at the knick knacks on the desk he has made his own. Some things you can tell are from your brothers, but most were given to him by you. That is when you notice that the book he had been reading is the one you told him is your favorite. It makes you smile a little, but you remind yourself not to make a big deal of it. He was probably just bored.
“What are you wearing?” You hear Aemond ask, and when you turn to him, he is staring at you, the note placed neatly on the desk. You almost want to point at yourself and go, ‘ who me ?’ because this is the first time he has ever said something directed at you without you having to prompt him first. But you guess your outfit for today is very different from your usual. Instead of skirts and dresses, you have dressed up in your new favorite pants.
Taking a step back, you proudly show it off, spinning for him. “It’s my new training outfit! Dorothea made it for–”
“Training…?”
Smiling wide, you excitedly nod. “Yes! Today, Ser Gregory is teaching me how to block–”
“Girls don’t fight,” Aemond says like it is a fact, taking you aback.
“Yes, they do!’ You snap back, getting a bit heated now.
“No, they don’t,” he says again, though a confused frown sits on his face. “My mother, the Queen, doesn't. My sister doesn’t. A lady doesn’t fight.”
You glare at him. If you weren’t so mad, it would have dawned on you that this is the first time he has held your gaze for longer than a second.
“ I’m a lady too! I’m ten and two already, and they do fight, like my mother and grandmother and—”
“You’re ten and two?”
You let out a frustrated huff, sick of his interruptions and his backwards way of thinking. So entitled and rude. Are all princes like this? Do you even want to be his friend anymore?
“What’s it to you ?”
He glances at you from under his pale lashes and says softly as if shy, “I am as well…”
Your eyes widen, eagerly asking him when his date of birth is. Turns out, yours and his are only a few days apart. And just like, everything he has done to you and the way he treated you prior to this is forgotten. You excitedly ask him a million more questions, and this time, he indulges you with the answer.
Some time passed and although you hated to halt this development between you and the prince, you had to get going to train with Ser Gregory.
“I guess I should get going,” you tell him after the both of you had died down from a fit of laughter because of a story you told about Septa Earla and a hornets’ nest.
Maybe you are imagining things, but you could have sworn you saw a flicker of disappointment on his face. “I suppose you should…”
Even after bidding each other a good day, you shift in place awkwardly. Although you had been waiting for today’s training for so long, you just did not want to leave… But you should. With a sigh, you turn, about to head out, when–
“Oh!” You turn back to him, remembering you had something else for him. From your pocket, you take it out to give to him. Once he has it in his hand and is examining it, you start explaining, “I know this might not be like the one you lost but I hope you’ll like it! I don’t know what your old one looks like but I borrowed Butcher Pate’s for reference. You see, he lost his eye from a fishing accident way before I was born. But anyway, I think I must have weirded him out when I asked for it. Dorothea and I made it – well, okay, mostly Dorothea made it but look–” you proudly point out the little purple embroidery on the band of the leather eyepatch, “I did that! Isn’t it nice? I’m not usually good at lettering but I tried really hard to perfect your initials!”
You were talking so fast, a million words per second, that Aemond can’t help but giggle a bit. When you are done, you wait expectantly, nervous as well in the way you toy your fingers together. Then Aemond’s lilac eye is on you, a big smile spreading on his face, rounding his cheeks.
“Thank you,” he says, so genuinely that it makes all of Dorothea’s chores that you did to have her make it worth it. Then he looks away, back at the eyepatch in his hands, fingers feeling the threading, “And I’m sorry… For being so… Unsavory towards you.”
Your heart warms at his apology, almost tearing up. But you blink it back when he looks up at you again and repeats, “I’m truly sorry.”
“It’s alright,” you forgive easily. This is what you wanted. All your hard work had paid off. Then with a toothy grin, you add teasingly, “At least you know that you were being a jerk.”
His head dips sheepishly. Before he can drown in sorrow, you hit his good shoulder playfully.
“Would you like to watch my brothers and I train?”
When Aemond nods, you hold your hand out, offering it for him to take.
He does.
