Chapter 30 - Family

122 AC

The second day of the sixth moon

Aemond Pov

"Someone call the maester! My son has awoken!" The urgent command reverberated through the halls, jolting me from the depths of unconsciousness. As my eyes fluttered open, I found my mother, the Queen Of the Seven Kingdoms, orchestrating the chaos around her with a blend of grace and authority.

Struggling to rise, I managed to prop myself up on the soft pillows that enveloped me. Sensing my feeble movements, my mother's gaze shifted towards me, and a mixture of relief and overwhelming joy flooded her tear-filled eyes.

"Oh, Aemond! You're awake!" she exclaimed, rushing to my side and wrapping me in a warm, tight embrace. Her embrace was so powerful that it almost stole my breath away.

"I am so happy that you're well, Aemond. I was beside myself with worry, fearing that you would never wake," she confessed, her voice quivering with a blend of relief and residual fear.

Her embrace, while suffocating, served as a tangible reminder of the depth of my mother's love. I could not remember the last time she had displayed such affection but It did not matter as I could care less about that right now.

I realized that despite her regal stature and the weight of her responsibilities, she was a mother above all else, her maternal instincts overriding any semblance of stoicism.

Struggling to regain my composure, I managed a weak smile and gently pried myself from her embrace. "You're crushing me, Mother," I chuckled softly, grateful for her undying affection.

Relaxing her grip, she took a step back, allowing me a moment to take in my surroundings. The room was adorned with exquisite tapestries, each one a masterpiece crafted by skilled artisans. The ornate furnishings and delicate trinkets displayed the wealth and stature of House Targaryen. It was a stark reminder of the privilege that came with my birthright.

As the commotion subsided, my mother turned her attention back to me, her expression a blend of concern and curiosity. "Aemond, my son, do you remember what happened?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

I paused for a moment, trying to grasp the fragments of memory that floated in the recesses of my mind. The events leading up to my unconsciousness seemed elusive, a jumbled mess that refused to be untangled. "I...I'm not sure, Mother," I confessed, frustration edging into my voice. "Everything feels muddled, like scattered pieces of a puzzle."

"The last thing I remember vividly was that I was fighting Ulf, and then suddenly I lost consciousness," I shared, watching my mother's expression transform from relief to concern. Her warmth seemed to dissipate, replaced by a furrowed brow that mirrored the worry etched across her face. Before she could utter a word in response, the heavy wooden door to my chamber swung open, revealing Maester Mellos hurrying in with an agility that defied his advanced age.

Maester Mellos was a seasoned healer, his wisdom and knowledge revered throughout the realm. Despite his greying hair and weathered features, his eyes shone with an intelligence and compassion that gave solace to those in need. His presence was a welcome sight, a beacon of hope and guidance in uncertain times.

Recognizing the urgency in his movements, my mother stepped aside, allowing the maester to approach my bedside. His wrinkled hands, steady and experienced, reached out to check my pulse and examine my complexion. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing the contours of my face as he observed my condition.

"How are you feeling, young Aemond?" the maester inquired, his voice a comforting blend of authority and kindness.

"I'm...I'm not entirely sure," I replied, my voice laced with a hint of confusion. "The battle with Ulf is the last clear memory I have. After that, it's all a haze."

The maester nodded, his expression contemplative.

As he continued his examination, I noticed a flicker of concern pass between him and my mother, a silent exchange that spoke volumes.

"What is it, Maester Mellos?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued by their shared worry.

The maester's gaze shifted from my mother to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and caution. "Aemond, I must be candid with you," he began, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of solemnity. "Your injuries were severe, and your loss of consciousness was not a mere happenstance. It appears that your battle with Ulf took a grave toll on your body."

A wave of apprehension washed over me as his words sank in. The gravity of the situation became apparent, and my mind raced with unanswered questions. What had transpired during that fateful encounter? How close had I come to the brink of death? The uncertainty gnawed at my thoughts, urging me to seek clarity.

"Maester Mellos, please, tell me everything," I implored, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within me. "I need to understand what happened."

The maester sighed, his gaze softening as he prepared to reveal the truth. "During your battle, Ulf delivered a blow that struck you with considerable force," he explained, his words measured and deliberate. "It appears that the impact caused a severe head injury, resulting in a concussion. The trauma to your brain led to your loss of consciousness. But It is a good thing that you were wearing your helm because without it I am sure that your injury would have been more severe"

My heart sank as the maester's words sank in. The severity of the situation was far greater than I had anticipated. I had faced Ulf with confidence, believing victory was within my grasp. Little did I know the toll it would exact on my very being.

"Will... Will I fully recover, Maester?" I inquired, my voice laced with a mixture of worry and concern.

"Do not worry, Prince Aemond," the maester reassured me, his voice carrying a soothing tone. "With ample rest and proper care, you will undoubtedly recover. However, I would strongly advise against returning to the training yard for the foreseeable future."

His words, while delivered with a calming intent, stirred a sense of frustration within me. The training yard was my sanctuary, the place where I honed my skills, both physical and mental. To be confined within the walls of my chambers, devoid of the exhilaration and camaraderie that the training sessions provided, felt like a prison sentence.

"But Maester Mellos," I protested, my voice tinged with an eagerness to resume my training. "The training yard is where I find solace and strength. It's a part of who I am."

The maester's expression softened, understanding my inner turmoil. "Prince Aemond, I understand your desire to return to the training yard. However, your health must take precedence. Your body needs time to heal, and pushing yourself prematurely could lead to further complications."

His words, though grounded in logic, were met with resistance from my restless spirit. I longed to reclaim my place among the warriors, to test my mettle and prove my worth. Yet, the maester's wisdom urged caution, reminding me of the fragility of life and the importance of self-care.

Taking a deep breath, I acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. "Very well, Maester Mellos," I conceded, my voice filled with a mixture of resignation and determination. "I will heed your counsel and focus on my recovery. But I ask that you guide me in any alternative pursuits that can help maintain my strength and skills during this period."

The maester's lips curled into a faint smile, appreciating my willingness to compromise. "Of course, Prince Aemond," he replied. "There are avenues for growth that do not involve physical exertion. I can provide you with books on strategy, history, and tactics. Engaging your mind in the art of warfare can be just as valuable as wielding a sword."

The idea intrigued me. While I had dedicated countless hours to perfecting my physical prowess, I had neglected the intellectual aspects of warfare. Perhaps this forced hiatus from the training yard would present an opportunity for me to broaden my understanding and refine my strategic thinking.

"I would welcome such knowledge, Maester Mellos," I responded, a spark of curiosity lighting up my eyes. "Teach me the intricacies of battle beyond the clash of steel, and I shall immerse myself in the wisdom you impart."

The maester nodded, satisfied with my willingness to explore alternative avenues of growth. "Very well, Prince Aemond," he said, his tone carrying a renewed sense of purpose. "Together, we shall delve into the depths of military history and the strategies of great tacticians. Your recovery will be a time of both physical and intellectual transformation."

With renewed determination, I settled back into the pillows, accepting the path set before me. The road to recovery, though challenging, promised opportunities for growth and self-discovery. As I closed my eyes, I envisioned a future where I would emerge not only as a formidable warrior but as a knowledgeable leader, equipped with both strength of body and depth of mind. And then I would be able to defeat Ulf.

As the conversation with Maester Mellos reached its conclusion, a chorus of footsteps echoed through the room, drawing my attention. I turned my gaze towards the entrance, where my siblings, accompanied by our uncle Gwayne, appeared in the doorway. Their presence filled the chamber with an air of familiarity and comfort, offering a respite from the weight of my recovery.

Upon spotting them, Maester Mellos, sensing the need for privacy and family connection, respectfully sought permission to depart. My mother, always gracious, granted his request with a nod, expressing her gratitude for his presence and guidance. With a final glance towards me, the maester retreated from the room, leaving us to our familial embrace.

With a shared understanding, my siblings and uncle approached my bedside, their expressions a blend of relief and concern. They were my pillars of support, bound by blood and unwavering loyalty, and their presence filled me with a renewed sense of strength.

"Brother!" Daeron, my younger brother, exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine joy. He approached with a skip in his step, his silver-golden hair bouncing with each movement. He reached out to clasp my hand, his touch tender and reassuring.

"Daeron," I replied, a smile gracing my lips as I returned his affectionate squeeze. His vibrant spirit never failed to uplift my own, and in that moment, I felt a surge of gratitude for his unwavering love despite the fact that I had been away for two years.

Beside him stood Aegon, my elder brother, his features reflecting a mix of relief and a lingering concern. That was the first time that I had seen some emotion other than apathy. As our eyes met, an unspoken understanding passed between us, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that we would carry forward in the years to come.

"It is good to see you awake, Aemond," Aegon spoke, his voice calm yet tinged with an underlying intensity. "We were worried for you."

"I am grateful for your concern, Aegon," I replied, my voice filled with appreciation. "Your presence brings me strength, brother."

In that instant, I knew that my recovery was not solely an individual journey but a collective effort supported by the unwavering devotion of my family.

Standing beside them was uncle Gwayne, a towering figure with a weathered visage that carried the weight of wisdom and battle-hardened experiences. He approached with a measured gait, his eyes radiating a mixture of pride and concern.

"Aemond," Uncle Gwayne greeted, his voice deep and resonant. "You've given us quite a scare. But it warms my heart to see you awake and on the path to recovery."

I nodded, acknowledging his words with a mixture of gratitude and respect. Uncle Gwayne had been a guiding force in my life, imparting lessons of chivalry and courage, and instilling in me the values that defined House Targaryen as well as House Hightower.

"I owe my recovery to the combined efforts of our family and Maester Mellos," I affirmed, my gaze encompassing each member of our intimate gathering. "It is through your unwavering support that I find the strength to persevere."

With those words, a sense of unity enveloped us. We stood as a testament to the unbreakable bonds that bound our family, a force capable of weathering any storm. As we embraced the moment, a newfound resolve ignited within me, fuelling my determination to not only recover but to emerge stronger than before.

"I prayed for you, brother," Helaena spoke softly, her voice carrying a tinge of timidity. Standing at the farthest corner of the room, she looked at me with a mixture of relief and genuine concern. I nodded my head in acknowledgment, appreciating the sentiment behind her words. It warmed my heart to know that even in her inherent shyness, she still held deep and unwavering care for my well-being.

"Helaena," I said, my voice gentle yet filled with gratitude. "Your prayers have reached me, and I am grateful for your unwavering support."

A faint blush colored her cheeks, but a smile touched her lips, revealing the depth of her affection. She had always been reserved, preferring the solace of books and quiet contemplation to the boisterousness of the outside world. Yet, her love for our family burned brightly, manifesting in small, heartfelt gestures.

As our eyes met, I recognized the strength within her, concealed beneath her introverted nature. She possessed a quiet resilience that complemented my own fiery spirit, creating a harmonious balance within our familial bond.

The distance between us seemed to dissipate as she approached, her steps measured but purposeful. In her hands, she held a small bouquet of flowers, carefully chosen and arranged with delicate precision. With a trembling hand, she extended the offering towards me, her eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

"These are for you, Aemond," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "A small token of my love and prayers."

I accepted the bouquet, the vibrant colors of the blooms a reflection of her unwavering devotion. Their sweet scent enveloped the air, filling the room with a gentle fragrance that mirrored the tenderness of Heleana's soul.

"They are beautiful, Helaena," I said, a smile gracing my lips as I held the bouquet close to my heart. "Thank you, dear sister, for your kind prayers and this thoughtful gift."

Helaena's eyes sparkled with unspoken words, her emotions expressed through the sincerity of her gaze. There was an unbreakable bond between us, one that transcended mere words. In her presence, I found solace, a reminder that love could be conveyed through the simplest of gestures.

As the room filled with the warmth of our familial connection, Uncle Gwayne spoke, his voice resonating with a blend of pride and affection. "You are fortunate, Aemond, to have such caring siblings by your side. Lean on their strength as you navigate the path to full recovery."

His words echoed with truth, reminding me of the unwavering support that surrounded me. In their love, I found the courage to face the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that I was not alone in my journey.

With the weight of gratitude in my heart, I looked upon my family gathered around me. Their presence, each one unique in their own way, formed the foundation of my resilience. Together, we would face whatever trials awaited us, bound by blood and an unbreakable bond of love.

And in that poignant moment, the absence of our father did not even fleetingly cross my mind.