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merlot-and-chardonnay · 3 months

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 43

Chapter 42

I'm still working on part 2 of the Lark's Bonus chapter, but until then, we'll be continuing with the main story line.

Aemma kept running across the town, ignoring the stares people were giving her as she whisked by them.After seeing her uncle's memory concerning her mother, she didn't know what to do, and feeling like the walls in the tavern were closing around her, she ran off, needing time and space to process what she saw.

Problem was...Aemma had no idea where she was going, and she didn't even know what exactly she was processing. She kept running until she began to feel her legs give out. She fell to her knees on a patch of dirt and grass. She only saw her uncle's memory of that night, of her mother and Geralt going through the portal and her mother calling out for her, trying to jump back through but was unable to because the portal closed. All this right after Jaskier told her what had happened that night...

"Your mother wasn't taken from you that night...she wanted to leave. Your father was the one who ripped you from her arms..."

No, no, no. It couldn't be. It couldn't. It had to be an accident, that was it. Even if her mother did leave of her own volition, she...she wanted to go back, she wanted to go back after her. She was calling out for her, Aemma saw that.

It was still only one piece of the story. There had to be more. Someone else had to know what else had happened. There was...but he didn't remember.

"Aemma!" Aemma hears Aemond calling out for her, shaking her from her trance. "Aemma, are you alright?" she feels her cousin place a hand on her shoulder. Aemma looked up to see Aemond with a look of concern on his face. "What happened?" he questions frantically. "What?" "Why did you run off like that? What did the Bard say to upset you?"

"I...I don't..." Aemma quickly shakes her head, still trying to process her memory, but not quite sure how to explain what did happen; she knew Aemond didn't believe her the first time she tried to explain her seeing him claim Vhagar through her dragon's eyes, why would he believe her this time around?

Shakily, Aemma got back on her feet, "he...he didn't say anything," she tries to assure her cousin, "I was just...overwhelmed is all..." "Aemma?" Aemma turned to see Geralt had approached, clearly just as concerned for her well being, though he was a little more stoic about it, "What happened?" "Nothing that need concern you, Master witcher," Aemond was quick to speak, but Aemma approaches. "Geralt, I need you to remember," she insists, "I need you to remember my mother, please...I need you to try." "What?" "That night...that night in King's Landing...when you and her left," Aemma tried to explain, "Was it...was it an accident?" "What was what an accident?"

"When my mother left me behind?" Aemma elaborates, "Was it an accident...or did my father take her from me?" "Aemma, what are you-" "Please, Geralt," Aemma pleads, ignoring her cousin's interjection, "I need to know, I need you to remember! I need to know that everything that my father told me was not a complete lie!"

"Aemma, I...I'm sorry, Aemma, I don't-"

In that moment, Geralt felt himself stare off in a similar manner to when he would remember pieces of his old life before the Wild Hunt.

King's Landing. Night had fallen. The Lady of Larks snuck Geralt into the Red Keep. Jaskier went to get Aemma from her rooms before they could all escape. Solider stop them before they could reach the docks. Geralt was suddenly in a sword fight with a larger man when another man with short silver blonde hair caught his attention, threatening to harm (y/n) if he didn't drop his sword. Then they were escaping the Red Keep again...this time with Yennefer. But before Geralt and (y/n) could leave through the portal...

"Geralt?" Aemma calls out right when the witcher looked like he was coming out of his trance. The woman had a confused looked, more so when she saw the way the witcher looked at her. "Aemma..." Geralt spoke in a soft voice, "You...that night...."

"Aemma!" Aemond interrupts, "what's that? Glowing in your pocket?" Aemma looked down to see. She pulled the object out of her pocket. It was the rose she collected from that ancient ruin she and Aemond were trapped in before the Blue Stripes got them out. "Where did you get that?" Geralt inquires. "I found it at the elven ruins," Aemma answers, "I don't know why I took it with me...I guess it looked pretty." "Is it magic?" Aemond frowns a bit. "In a way," Geralt tells him, "it is called the Rose of Remembrance. It requires someone with the ability to control magic to use them. How..."

Geralt looked Aemma in the eye, and he was able to put the pieces together, "you have chaos within you." "What? Chaos? What do you mean Aemma has-"

Before Aemond could even finish his question, Geralt suddenly jerked his head in the other direction, towards the inn. "Geralt?"

"Tris!" was all Geralt said before he sprinted for the inn. Hearing that name, Aemma followed. Aemond decided to follow as well, despite not feeling like he was in loop of the conversation. When they got to the inn, Geralt rushed up the stairs into where Tris was supposed to be staying. No one was inside, save for a dead man laying on the floor, lots of blood on the floor, and books and other objects laying all over the place.

"Tris?" Geralt looks around. Aemma ran in, as did Aemond. "What happened in here?" Aemma questions looking around, "Where...where's Triss?" "She's not here," Geralt answers, "Don't just stand there. Both of you. We need to look for clues." Aemma wanted to pick up on the conversation from before, but that would have to wait. Triss was gone, and that was a concern, especially since she was the one who was supposed to restore Geralt's memory as well as to help Aemma understand her special gift. "Who is this Triss?" Aemond asks when he examines the body. "A sorceress," Aemma tells him, "She knew my mother, she was supposed to help both me and Geralt understand what became of her." "This man's neck is broken." "He was Sile's bodyguard," Geralt explains, "Another sorceress. The blood is not his." "There's a lot of it on the floor," Aemma observes, taking a look at the pentagram scribbled there, "looks like Triss was performing some kind of ritual before she disappeared. Is...is it possible any of this blood is hers? It's a lot." Geralt takes a whiff of the blood from where he stood, "...maybe."

Geralt then looked and saw something unusual with the wall. Upon closer inspection he noticed it was some kind of peephole. The madame of the brothel located on the other side was sitting there with another woman on the bed. It looked like she was grieving. Geralt pulled back, deciding he was going to ask some questions to the madame, "stay here," he informs the two young Targaryens, "I'll be right back."

Aemma huffed a bit, wondering around the room. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Maybe if she tried to focus, she might somehow be able to activate her powers and let her see into the past, see what happened in this room.

"Aemma, what are you doing?" Aemond questions her. "I need to focus," Aemma tells him. "Why?" "I need...I'm trying to look into the past." "What?" Aemond frowns a bit, "Aemma, you're not making any sense." "I don't expect it to make sense," Aemma reasons, "It didn't the last time I tried to explain it."

Again, Aemond gave another confused look, which didn't go unnoticed by his cousin, "do...do you remember what I said? That night on Driftmark? The night you claimed Vhagar?" Aemond tried to think back on that night, the same night his eye was taken by his nephew. Despite his mind be addled with Milk of the Poppy to numb the pain when the maester stitched the flesh around his eye closed, he still remembered the aftermath fairly clear. He remembered when Aemma tried to take the blame for what was done to the young prince, the story she concocted when she begged his mother to punish her instead of Lucerys...

"I saw him claim Vhagar through Cirillia's eyes...I don't know how else to explain it, but I saw it...through the eyes of my dragon."

"...I remember," he says in a low tone, anger and resentment bubbling to the surface, but keeping it in check for the time being. What right did Aemma have to be mad at him for words he said when he, at the time, was the one in physical pain from being mutilated?

"You claimed you saw me claim Vhagar through Cirillia's eyes."

"It wasn't a claim...it was a fact," Aemma corrects, "I did see it. It's...it's a gift that I possess as it turns out. It's not just that. I can look the past. I can look at people...and see bits and pieces of their past. Maybe I can do the same here in this room. Problem is...I don't quite know how to control it, or project it. It happens at random times. If I knew, if I could just focus..."

Aemma approached the pentagram, kneeling down and closing her eyes once again, doing her best to focus on the blood on the floor...or maybe she should try focusing on the symbol itself. Or...maybe if she tried focusing on the fallen corpse in the room, if she could somehow extract memories from the dead man...

"Are you seeing anything now?" Aemond speaks up. "*sighs* no..." Aemma huffs, "If only-"

Aemma's eyes widen when she felt the power inside her sneak up, seeing the room as it was when Triss was still here. She saw Triss speaking to someone via the broken megascope...a woman. Another sorceress perhaps? A colleague of Triss' possibly? They were having a conversation, though Aemma could not hear their words. Triss looked stoic at first, but then she started to become more agitated, looking like she was asking the woman more questions. What were they talking about? If only Aemma could somehow hear them. She tried to read their lips, hoping to make out some words.

She did hear one word that got her attention to the woman, "...Aemma...."

Aemma suddenly saw the conversation between the two women cut short when she saw someone break into the room. It was the witcher Letho. He was fast, but Aemma recognized his familiar silhouette in the shadow. She saw blood being spilled, and a man crying out in pain. She then saw who it was that got injured.

An elf...and one Aemma recognized right away, even though she had not seen him in six years. "Cedric?"

"Aemma...Aemma!"

Aemma was pulled from her trance at the sound of Aemond's voice. "Cedric!" Aemma shouts out, taken aback from what she just saw in her vision.

"Aemma! It's alright...it's me." Aemma looks up to see Aemond. She was able to see the past again...the very recent past. Cedric the elf was with Triss when Letho attacked...He got hurt. She looked to the flower in pocket, it was glowing again. Aemma looked to the floor where the blood was still splattered. She realized now that blood could be Cedric's. She felt sick thinking about it, the possibility that he might be bleeding out somewhere, if not in town, then somewhere outside. Aemma quickly got back on her feet, confusing her cousin even more. She examined the blood and saw a small trail leading to the door. She went outside and saw the trail kept going. Cedric must've tried to run when he got hurt. Where was he going.

She was about to run for it, but Aemond grabbed her arm. "Aemma, what are you doing?" "I need to go!" Aemma pulled her arm away and sprinted in the direction of the blood trail. "Aemma, wait! Aemma!" Aemond chased after her.

Aemma whisked past Jaskier and Criston, both exchanging confused looks, especially when they both saw Aemond go after her. "Shit, she's going into the forest," Jaskier realizes.

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Aemma ran as fast as she could, slowing down every so often to look for blood spots. Cedric couldn't have gotten that far, she surmises, not with the extent of his injuries.

At one point, Aemma lost sight of the trail and had to back track to the last blood splattered sight. When she did, Aemond finally caught up, making a grab for her once again, "Aemma!"

"Aemond, let me go!" Aemma insists. "Not until you explain all this," Aemond reasons. "There's no time!" Aemma says frantic, "Cedric is out there! He's hurt!" "I don't even know who that is!" "He's an elf! I know him! I met him six years ago when I came to the Continent the first time, he saved my life!" Aemma pulls away, "I saw him in my vision. The witcher, the kingslayer, he attacked Cedric, and now he's out there bleeding out! He knows what happened to Triss, and if we don't find him in time, he'll die."

"Even so, you can't just run off like that, not on your own!" Aemond insists, "if what you're saying is true, the kingslayer could still be close by, what if he tries to capture you again?" "Than this time, I'll be ready," Aemma answers with confidence, gesturing to her sword for emphasis.

"What makes you think you would stand a chance?" Aemond scoffs. "...what makes you think I wouldn't?" Aemma scoffs back, "In case you haven't noticed, Aemond, I've changed. I'm not the same upstanding little princess you knew when we were children., hells, I wasn't even that to begin with. You remember those times I used to sneak into the docks, yeah? I wasn't just sitting idly by the last six years, Aemond, I learned to train with the sword, I learned to identify herbs and monsters, and how to track things. I can hold my own in a fight, especially against monsters."

Aemond's eye widen a little, images of Aemma being attacked by actual monsters suddenly coming to his mind. He couldn't imagine Aemma in that scenario, at least he couldn't imagine her coming out in one piece. When he knew her back during her days in King's Landing, he remembered Aemma as a princess and upstanding lady, maybe not as devout to the faith as his mother is, but still a lady all the same, one who paid attention to her lessons in history and philosophy and High Valyrian, as he did. He remembered watching her and his sister when they practiced their sewing and embroidery, he remembered watching Aemma during her music lessons, when she first learned to string together musical notes together on a lute, and when she recited ballads and poetry. People had often liken Aemma to Aegon the Conqueror's wife Rhaenys...now Aemma, as she is now, was likening herself more to his other wife Visenya.

Aemma is supposed to be a lady like Alicent or Helaena...not some unconventional warrior who wore ragged clothes and a brandished sword made of silver. How was she able to carry that thing, he thinks, it looked heavy, probably more so compared to carrying a sword made of Valyrian steel.

Aemond was taking too long to respond, seemingly like he was shocked or something along those lines. So Aemma looked to the ground again trying to figure out where the blood trail continued. She saw the spots- they were looking less sparse than before. Cedric was close by...and he was slowing down.

Aemma was about to continue, but Aemond suddenly jumped towards her, shoving her to the side. "Aemond!" Aemma was about to scold, but then saw why he did that.

A pack of drowners, who were probably wondering the nearby river, had spotted the two. Aemma looked towards the river bank and noticed a couple fallen Scoia'tel by the shore. Having remembered what Aemma read from the bestiaries Vesemir had loaned her, she remembered drowners were mostly scavengers, preferring to feast on fallen corpses like crows would; however, they were not above hunting their own prey, especially if they venture a little close to their watery territory.

Aemond pulled out his sword, ready to defend the princess. Aemma sighed a bit, realizing Aemond still did not believe she was capable of fighting for herself; she wondered, even, if he remembered when she delivered the killing blow on the endraga back at the docks that one evening when they were children.

Drawing her own sword, right when the drowner lunged at Aemond, Aemma shoved him to the side and stabbed the monster through the heart.

Cue the music:

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The other drowners jumped in. Aemma stood her ground, dodging their attacks and cutting them down one by one, the training Vesemir had given her taking hold as it had before the last time she was in this situation.

Silver is for monsters...those words rang in her head as she dodged and swung and sliced with her silver sword.

Meanwhile Aemond stood there, wide eyed as he witnessed Aemma move to and fro as she defended the both of them from the drowners. The way she moved her feet, every turn, every pirouette, every slice and swing of the sword, it was almost like she was engaged in some kind of dance.

The way she was entranced as she continued the dance...it almost reminded Aemond of the way he would go into the zone whenever he sparred with Criston or Ivan. Granted, his movements were less fluid, but it was still something he could relate to.

Aemma was right, he realized...she was not the same princess he once knew from before.

Right now, Aemma finished off the last drowner, decapitating the monster where it stood after dodging its attack.

Aemma panted a bit, the bout having been a bit of a workout given she still not had regained her full strength after being held captive with little food the last several months. She looked over to Aemond to make sure he was unharmed. He wasn't, but he looked shocked as ever before.

"Are you alright?" she asks. Aemond nods, "...where did you learn to do all that?" "Vesemir taught me," she simply answers, "a witcher from Kaer Morhen."

Right at that moment, moans of pain cut through. Aemma looked to see where the sounds came from. An elf was laying over a root of a large tree, clenching his gut as blood continued to seep from the wound.

Eyes wide, Aemma recognized him.

"Cedric!"

She ran over to the elf in question. Cedric turned over, blood still pooling from his wound. "Princess...Caedmill" "Don't say another word," Aemma informs him, "you're hurt." "You...you escaped," Cedric realized, "from the Scoia'tel." "I did," Aemma nods, examining his wound, "We need to get you help." "No," Cedric shakes his head, "there's...it's too late...my time is near." "Don't say that," Aemma insists, "We can still make it, we just need to find Triss, she can heal you and-" "Triss is gone," Cedric informs her, "the witcher, Letho, he...he broke in...tried to...he was fast, faster than I could imagine. He grabbed Triss and forced her to teleport to Vergen."

"So shes..." "Listen to me," Cedric brings her attention back to him, "there's not much time. You...you must go to Upper Aedirn. Your destiny waits for you there." "My destiny? Cedric, I don't understand-" "You will when you reach Vergen," Cedric assures her, "follow the path to Upper Aedirn, you will know all, who you are, your gift...and you will find your mother." "My mother..." "The Lady of Larks she...she is still held captive by the Wild Hunt. She is safe and unharmed for now, but not for much longer. Only you can save her."

"...Cedric...why didn't you tell me I was born in Kaer Morhen?" "I thought you knew," Cedric simply reasons, "I did not foresee at the time...that you would have been told otherwise." "Why did you get involve in the first place?" "Sometimes we must...remember when I once told you of my visions? That is why I drink. Only when I am lost in the mist of vodka do I see nothing...feel nothing..." "You were not drinking then," Aemma said, remembering her own vision.

"I see it clearly now," Cedric says, voice sounding weaker than before, "follow your path, princess. Be sure to take Gwynbleidd with you. It is the only way to fully restore his memory, the only way he can tell you what he knows." "I...I will...," Aemma vows, "I do what you ask."

"There's...there's one more thing," Cedric speaks, placing a hand on Aemma's shoulder as he tries to look around. He caught sight of Aemond, but it looked like he was trying to figure something else out, "he's not here...he needs to know..." "Who? What does he need to know?"

Cedric leaned in, whispering something in Aemma's ear...in the elven tongue so only she would understand.

Aemond saw the way Aemma's eyes widen the moment Cedric pulled away.

"Cedric-" "The forest is calling to me..." Cedric speaks barely above a whisper, "...I always wanted to die beneath the trees."

In that moment, a group of animals approached. They did not come to attack, but looked more like they were staring at the elf in reverence. "The forest calls to me," Cedric repeats, and then Aemma understood what this meant.

"They've come to bid you farewell."

"My forest...Va fail, Silver Lark...farewell..."

With that final breath, whatever life was clinging finally left. Cedric died staring into the forest as it kept calling to him.

Eyes moist, Aemma blinked back the tears as she pressed her hand against Cedric's eyes, closing them, never to open ever again.

Masterlist

Chapter 44

#hotd #the witcher #geralt of rivia #oc #aemond targaryen #jaskier #criston cole #crossover #aemond x oc #geralt x reader #cedric

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