Chapter 94: Farewell, My Brother

                                    

                                          
King's Landing ― Refugee camp...
Aemma dedicated herself to caring for the refugees who flocked to King's Landing, mostly comprised of women and young children. The ongoing civil war had left many homes and families in ruins, with loved ones being separated or lost to various causes - from disease and hunger to friends taking opposing sides: the Blacks and the Caltrops. The princess remained dutifully loyal to her family, but Aemma couldn't turn a blind eye to those seeking refuge and safety. "Here you go, little one," she said, preparing a bowl of warm soup for a small child.
"Thank you, princess," the child said gratefully.
Can't be more than six or seven. Poor thing. I hope her mother comes for her soon. "One of our septas will see that you are cared for, young one. We'll find your family. I promise." Aemma quickly glanced at the gathering crowd, eagerly awaiting their turn for an audience. "Please maintain a steady, respectful line as we prepare more."
"My princess," one of the smallfolk from the Riverlands approached his eyes, almost pleading, "the war... my harvest in our field has been so poor this year. I... I can't even feed my family. My wife and children are starving."
"I'm sorry to hear, ser. I'll cut your taxes." If the Master of Coin encounters an issue, Lord Celtigar can bring it to me or my brothers. "You might need to consider visiting the local King's Counter in the Street of Sisters to inquire if you are eligible for an emergency loan. Get enough food from the Street of Flies to feed your family if approved. You will be taken care of."
"Oh! Thank you, princess! Seven blessings!"
"Seven blessings, ser."
"Good Princess Aemma," an elder approached, "my granddaughter... is to be married. But she has nothing to wear on her wedding day."
"Ah, congratulations to you both! I'll arrange something for her, fear not." Aemma surveyed the small gathering around her. "Fear not, good people. We in House Targaryen will do everything we can to care for our people." She watched as they steadily dispersed, one by one. Every day, the young princess faced a new and increasingly exhausting challenge. She was doing everything possible to tend to those who came for help. As more reports from the field come, the more desperate the people get. Aemma looked up at Silverwing, who stayed near her rider. "Riña sȳz, Gēltīkun. (Good girl, Silverwing.)" The princess gently scratched beneath the elder dragon's jawline, eliciting a low, approving growl.
"Giving heed to the people. How popular you are, niece," a voice called out.
Aemma quickly heard footsteps approaching and turned to see her uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower, leading a group of gold cloaks toward her. She recognized his silhouette as he got closer. "Uncle Gwayne," she acknowledged. "I only do what I can. Yet there are times where it feels like it's not enough."
"That's your mother talking, not you. Dragonrider or no, we're all human, princess," Gwayne said with a dismissive hand. "I must say, it is quite remarkable," he nodded. "These people are more inclined to engage in idle chatter with you and your brothers than with even the king himself." He directed his attention towards her. "I have been made aware of the recent events that have transpired. The lads back in the barracks love sharing rumors and gossip."
"Too much gossip can easily reach the wrong ears, uncle. How long did it take for the City Watch to have forgotten that my father was both Master of Whisperers and Hand of the King for years before ascending the Iron Throne? Regardless of whether the rumors are true or not, what if they do reach him? It's a recipe for disaster."
"No one has forgotten your father's skill as a spymaster, Aemma. The ballad 'A Thousand Eyes, and Two' was composed to honor your father's victory over the Triarchy long before you were born, and the memory of it is still fresh in people's minds even all these years. We are taking appropriate measures to keep things under control. Still, some of the recruits have an unrealistic view of warfare: idealizing and glorifying it, which can be a dangerous combination unless they experience the harsh reality of the front lines as the others are."