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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 2 months

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A Night Forgotten

Part Four

Flashback: The Wedding

What a beautiful, heart-felt ceremony. Emoni had come back from the restroom within the beautifully appointed ballroom. Her friends had picked an exquisite mansion to hold their ceremony and reception. The grand chandelier situated high above them made Emoni feel as if she were a part of Beauty and The Beast. The ivory ball gown the bride wore reminded her of a princess.

As Emoni enters the vast ballroom, she makes a beeline for the bar, needing to start the evening off on the right foot. Everyone began to mingle after filling their bellies with the best food she’d ever had. As she made her way there, her ivory and gold satin bridesmaids gown annoying her, she made eye contact with her ex, Troy, instantly turning her gaze away with frustration. He’d been trying to get her attention the entire time. Emoni wanted nothing to do with his lying, cheating ass.

To her delight, the bartender is a good friend: Brent is dressed up as Cupid for tonight's event, complete with a silly bow and arrow set slung across his chest. Ivory, silk, button down shirt on with the buttons halfway secured, his skin is oiled and painted in golden fairy dust, and his matching satin pants hang low on his hips. He looks like a love slave with fairy-like wings, quite honestly, more fit for a BDSM dungeon than a fairytale wedding.

"Brent, I didn't know you were a bartender, too!" she says as she takes a stool in front of him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that had fallen from her elegant updo that Brent had given her just that morning. "This hair is fantastic, by the way. I love how it makes me feel, so…"

"Naughty and free?" he suggests.

"Exactly."

She's been his client for the last three years, and over that time, their rapport has been growing by leaps and bounds. It's been a wonder to discover there is more to this silent, talented man than just his good looks and charm.

"The best hairdresser in all of California by day, moonlighting as a mixologist for the newlyweds?! How very mysterious you are, Mr. Clark!”

Brent shrugs one muscular shoulder and flashes a quick grin. "I'm a man of many talents," he reminds her with a wink. "We're always full of surprises, Ms. Daniels."

"Is that so?" she challenges him with a wicked grin. "Why don't you prove it by making me something as unique and unforgettable as this hair Ply me with a menu of drinks guaranteed to end with my socks being knocked off!"

With a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes, he accepts her challenge.

"I do believe I've got just the thing for you, Ms. Daniels…"

Brent sauntered over towards the end of the bar to make her the perfect drink. Emoni swayed in her seat, enjoying the music and refusing to be in a sour mood because of her ex. Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve to steal her joy.

Unfortunately for her, another man known to be a thorn in her side since High School was on his way over, dressed from head to toe in Sebastian Cruz—Italian fabric. It’s a black suit with gold accents, matching the colors of the wedding. He is a groomsmen after all. His tapered locs are braided back and he couldn’t go without wearing his gold canines. He begins as it always does between them: with an acknowledgement and an insult.

"Evening, Daniels," Erik Stevens greets her with a bow of his head, taking up his customary place at her side as she turns up her nose at him, attempting to fake her disgust of him, “How goes the dick hustling tonight?"

She glances over at him, amused. His eyes are shielded with a gold half-mask. Very sexy. She would never tell him that however. With a mouth like his, it was sure to piss her off quickly. he carries a glass tumbler that is filled with melting ice and the tiniest bit of cognac.

Where is Brent with her much needed drink?! She searched the bar and there was no sight of him.

Odd.

Emoni was determined not to give into the whim to kick this smug Prince in his priced jewels. It's far too early in the evening for that sort of a juvenile response, and really she needed a little liquid courage to be that bold.

And why would you kick him in the balls when you actually want to tea bag them? Her salacious thoughts intruded.

"Hello, Stevens," she unenthusiastically responded instead, refusing to call him by his first name. "Still seducing the ladies with a forked tongue, I see."

His serpentine smirk is chased by a sexually-suggestive leer. "You meant silver tongue, I'm sure. And if anyone's out to deceive…you're the one dressed like a seductress, Daniels. Since when do you seduce?” He noticed she didn’t have a drink in her hand, “I take it Brent is still working on your drink?”

Emoni parted her glossy lips to speak but was suddenly rendered speechless. A beautifully-crafted cocktail was situated in front of her, as if it had materialized from nowhere. A striking and vivid pink, tropical flower was placed over the edge of the glass as a garnish. A pretty pink egg-white mixture swirled inside of the glass. It was topped with an orange drizzle and edible glitter.

For the slightest moment, Emoni could have sworn the mysterious drink glowed like it was made of magic. Even Erik couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pretty concoction. Just then, the most alluringly sexy voice brought her gaze forward. Emoni was stunned by the woman’s undeniable beauty. Long, sleek brown hair, feline eyes, chiseled jaw, sculpted body with sinewy curves, and a full set of lips so tempting. She was hypnotic.

“One Aphrodite’s Love Potion for you…”

“Thank you,” Emoni’s eyes searched, “Did Brent leave?”

“He needed to take a quick break. I’m taking over until he gets back…”

Emoni brought the cocktail to her lips and then she paused.

“What’s in this?”

“Gin, triple sec, lemon juice…just to name a few. It looks delicious, doesn’t it?”

Her voice was so beautiful. Erik stood there speechless. As if he were in a trance.

“Go on, drink it. I already know you’ll love it.”

Emoni gave a one shoulder shrug before bringing her lips over the rim and taking a sip. As soon as it touched her tongue, she was immediately hit with a burst of flavor. It was the best drink she’d ever had. She instantly felt a rush, the drink coursing through her body and making her feel all warm and fuzzy.

“It’s delicious. Thank you?—”

“Just call me Dove. It’s a nickname of mine.”

“Thanks, Dove. I may need another one of these tonight!” Emoni said with a flirty grin.

“Oh, you’ll be back for more, trust me. Maybe your friend here might want one?”

Erik locked eyes with Dove, for a second unable to formulate words. Someone had accidentally bumped into him on their way to the bar. Erik blinked away from Dove, clearing his throat to speak.

“I’m all good. For now at least. Not my type of drink.”

“I see,” Dove gave Erik a once over, “Well, I’ll see you two around. Enjoy your evening…”

Dove sauntered away towards the end of the bar. Emoni could feel Erik’s eyes on her. She glared at him.

“What?”

“Fitting.” He looked at her drink before eyeing her up and down, his gaze taking time to admire the view. "My, my, but you do love to play naughty for me, don't you?”

Although she didn’t particularly like the dress—not that it was her idea to wear it in the first place—it made her slim-thick body stand out. Her breasts sat up invitingly. The back of the dress although a bit poofy made her plump ass sit out.

“Naughty for you? That's the funniest thing I've heard all evening, Erik, Thanks for the ha-ha.”

She turns to assess the crowd of eligible men. There are more than a few faces she already knows, but others she'd like to know a lot better, “Contrary to your absurd and quite comical belief, I didn't dress this way for you. I have a specific agenda tonight.”

Erik scuffed, dimples deep in his cheeks and lips rolled shut, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. She’s such a logistician. That’s one thing about Emoni that attracted him to her. That articulate voice and intellect. It was so damn sexy. Erik waved down Brent who appeared again at the bar. He strolled over with a big smile.

“Another one of these, homie!”

Brent gave Erik a thumbs up and then he glanced at Emoni with a sorry look. She waved him away, not even bothered that he had to step away from the bar for a bit. Brent returned within two minutes with a new glass of cognac on ice. Erik accepted the drink graciously.

“Don't you always at these things? Have an agenda?” He dryly asks, taking a quick sip of his drink to hide a frown. “Speaking of which—” He leans in as if to impart a secret to her, appearing solemn and earnest in his proposal. “Look, the truth is…I just came over here to offer you my services.”

She turns her head and gives him a flat stare. “What services would those be exactly—teaching a woman what not to want in a man? Because you excel at that.”

“You're the only one who thinks so,” he baldly points out, and she knows he's right. The fact is Erik’s got women crawling all over him, begging for a piece on a regular basis, despite his abysmal character. Apparently, having a boat-load of money and royalty status is the great cosmetic for a truly deplorable personality, “As I was saying…my services,” he continues. “Tonight I'm feeling magnanimous, Daniels, so I'm going to make you an offer you can't possibly refuse.”

Emoni sighs and waves at him to get on with what will, indubitably, be a scandalous and ridiculous proposition. The answering dimpled grin he gives her is delightfully boyish and positively enchanting, and if she had fewer brain cells in her head she'd fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Go on, Boss, I’m listening.”

“Alright, now listen up because I'm not repeating it,” he says, preening as a peacock before her, “For one night only, for absolutely no money down and no contract necessary, I'm willing to save you the embarrassment of having to find and hunt down the perfect man for your desired one night stand,” He crudely points at his crotch. "I've already got one right here that can fulfill your every fucking dream. Totally free. I'll even throw in all the pink cocktails you'll need to work up the nerve. Dove is around her somewhere…”

Enoni purses her lips, trying not to laugh in his face. As far as trying it on goes, that one is rather original.

“So, let me just understand your pitch,” she replies, affecting indifference. “You're offering to ply me with copious amounts of alcohol and once I'm too inebriated to think straight, you're going to allow me a shot at some other chick’s sloppy seconds…assuming I don't fall unconscious somewhere in between and make things that much easier for you.” She fakes a yawn. “Nice try, but why would I allow my boss and a womanizer the chance of fucking me?”

His frown indicates he’s pissed that she would even think that.

“Your back is so gahdamn rigid, Daniels. I’ll be glad when you get that stick out your fuckin’ ass. And aren’t you the one tryna find a man to fuck in your hotel bed? A random man at that,” Erik chuckles, “So, if anything…”

She was furious then. She wanted to slap him in that pretty face of his. He was so infuriating!

“Are you calling me a hoe? All I did was tell you the truth. And you know it’s the truth, don’t you?”

He blinks as if she's nailed him right in the gut, and gives a long-suffering sigh as if disgusted with her total lack of interest.

“Daniels, you really know how to stomp a man's grand plans into dust at the same time as grinding his balls into meat strips,” He tosses back the contents of his drink, finishing off the glass. “I’ll leave you alone and watch you stand here looking desperate when an opportunity is right in front of you.”

Now she laughs and turns her attention back to the crowd, eyeing the selection and seeing if there is anyone there who might even remotely catch her attention tonight.

“You can’t stand the fact that I don’t fall for your dimples and your raspy voice and your status. Your charm doesn’t work on me. If you can even call it that.”

“Plenty do,” he grouses, looking petulant by her refusal to be impressed, “I'm amazingly appealing, and we both know that you know that.”

"Sure I do,” Emoni replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

He sniffs. "Your problem is you're too green…miss prim."

“No, I'm foxy and an excellent judge of character. Far from green and prudish, Stevens.” Emoni fired back.

“Yes, well…” He sighs, twirling his now empty glass in his hand, “I don't suppose you'd consider lowering your stuck-up standards for a night to aid a fellow charity-dodger deal with his dick?”

“Not for all the air to breathe.”

“Ah, well, your loss, love,” he says, sounding not in the least put-out by her rejection.

He is, after all, quite used to it by now. This is a familiar ritual for them, one they'd been having on and off for the last five years or so since his return from Wakanda. It always ends the same, too: he 'flirts' outrageously with her then ducks out with some random woman on his arm, and she, unwilling to be the brunt of jokes about a lack of a sex life come Monday morning, eventually leaves with one of her friends-with-benefits for a Saturday night of vigorous sex…followed by a Sunday morning filled with hollow excuses and quick goodbyes. That’s how Emoni ended up with her ex, Troy. A serious mistake that led her into a toxic relationship.

Really, the way she and Erik dance around each other at these events and in the office is comical, if it wasn't so fucking obvious that they both wanted a good, nasty, rough night with each other. The problem is that Emoni wants more than a one-off with her boss. Unfortunately, he's highly allergic to commitment.

Hence the sexual tension with the mean bite. Suddenly, Erik surprises her by taking her drink from her hand and sampling it. He held her gaze with a penetrating stare, daring her to do something. She stared back at him with her mouth agape and eyes wide.

He sits the drink down on the bar and licks his full, tempting lips, giving her a slow once-over, “Enjoy your cute, little drink,” he offers and heads off, a beautiful model-type following him with lustful eyes. That wasn’t the only woman there that wanted a piece.

As he walks away, Emoni tries not to let her disappointment overtly show, or derail her from the plan: she is going home with some man tonight and will lose herself in their sex. She’s horny and it’s been too long since she’d been full of dick. After all, that always helps her, at least temporarily, to forget her unrequited feelings for Erik Stevens.

She finishes off her drink, giving a surprised hum at how pleasant it tastes…and how light it makes her feel by the time she hits the bottom of the glass.

“When do you plan on admitting your feelings for him? I mean, it’s been over ten years…”

Startled, Emoni looked forward and met the eyes of that captivating bartender. She slid another pretty drink towards her with a mischievous grin. Emoni was mesmerized by her undeniable beauty with a slight trace of vanity.

But wait, how did she know it’s been over ten years?

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger

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princesssszzzz · 1 month

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Sullied

Pairing: Rhaemond

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Targcest, dark Aemond

Summary: Aemond tells Rhaena he wants to teach her how to learn how to ride a dragon but he has an ulterior motive

Rhaena quietly excused herself from the lavish feast held in honor of her half-brother Aegon's arrival in King's Landing. The grand hall buzzed with laughter and celebration, every toast and cheer aimed at the newborn prince. Aemond, seated at the far end of the long table, noticed as Rhaena slipped away, her quiet departure going unnoticed by everyone, including her own father. Earlier that day, they had arrived on the back of Caraxes—just Daemon, Rhaena, and Aegon, with Baela choosing to remain behind on Driftmark.

She’d lied claiming she didn’t feel well but Rhaena knew the truth. Her older sister simply didn’t want to go.

As the guests toasted to Aegon’s health, Aemond’s eye followed Rhaena, noting the sadness that shadowed her expression, a stark contrast to the jubilant atmosphere. She had sat through the meal quietly, only forcing a smile when directly addressed, her politeness masking a deep sense of isolation. He could tell she was painfully aware that the gathering didn’t include her—and no one would notice her absence.

Intrigued by her desolate demeanor, Aemond felt a twisted interest in the young girl who seemed perpetually overshadowed. When his brother ‘warned’ him of their visit, he’d hoped to be met by an older version of the girl that he saw at Driftmark. He was miserable and was eager to argue with someone. It should’ve been easy to rile her up. Instead, he was met with a sunken version of her. Older, but different.

Daemon had spoken at length to the King about Baela’s new skill in archery, her newfound mastery of commanding the ever growing Moondancer, and yet not a word about Rhaena. Aemond’s lips curled into a sly smile as an idea began to form in his mind. Here was Rhaena, the dragonless daughter of his despised uncle. An opportunity presented itself. One that would allow him to both needle Prince Daemon and offer Rhaena a form of companionship that would suit his darker purposes.

Throughout the feast, Rhaena remained oblivious to the way Aemond’s gaze lingered on her, a wicked glint in his eye. She sat playing with her hair. Removing the gold band of her loc, and attaching it again. She’d spent half an hour doing this mindlessly while staring into space, occasionally taking a break to glance at the King and her father. Eventually, she slipped away, headed to her chambers and figured she’d stayed at the table long enough to be considered civil and gracious to her host. Aemond waited a while before he excused himself from the table, his steps calculated as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep towards Rhaena’s chambers. His heart thrummed with excitement, not at the prospect of helping her, but at the thought of the mischief he intended to set in motion.

When he reached her door, Aemond took a moment to compose himself before knocking softly. The door opened to reveal Rhaena, her long hair falling free from the earlier updo, her surprise evident as she looked up at him. She had been expecting a handmaiden, not this older boy.

“Aemond,” she began cautiously, “what brings you here?”

He cleared his throat, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Rhaena, I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and it caught her off guard.

Hesitating only for a moment, the unsure Rhaena nodded and stepped aside, allowing Aemond into her chambers. As they settled onto a chaise, Aemond began, his tone deceptively sincere, “I wanted to apologize for how I’ve treated you in the past. I realize I wasn’t kind, and we didn’t start off well.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air before continuing with a touch of feigned humility, “For that, I’m truly sorry. I have no idea what it’s like to lose a mother.”

Rhaena’s wary expression softened, clearly touched by the unexpected apology. She’d heard stories about him throughout the years on Dragonstone, but he seemed to have changed. She had always seen Aemond as cold and aloof, so this sudden show of remorse took her by surprise. “Thank you, Aemond. That means a lot,” she replied, a small smile appearing as she added, “I hope you're doing well.”

She didn’t say it, but he knew he was referring to his eye when her wide gaze lingered on his obvious scar.

Aemond dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need to worry about that.”

A silence fell on them, with Rhaena not knowing what to say next. It was getting late. He noticed that she expected him to leave after this exchange, but he remained, his voice deepening as he pressed on. “I know how much dragons mean to you,

and I’d like to help. How about I take you to the dragon pits tomorrow? I can teach you a few things about riding, show you what your father and others haven’t.” His tone was earnest, almost too earnest, and it made Rhaena pause.

Rhaena’s eyes lit up with hope at the idea of finally connecting with dragons, something she had longed for but felt deprived of. Her egg had hatched but the sickly hatchling died the next day. She’d been stuck trying to hatch a new dragon. Her father’s attention had always been elsewhere, and with her sister Baela far away, the loneliness had grown unbearable. “I would love that, Aemond,” she said softly, genuine gratitude coloring her voice.

The thought of finally being seen, of being offered something for herself, even if from Aemond, was a welcome reprieve from the constant overshadowing by her younger half-brother and the absence of her sister.

But the girl had no idea. Beneath Aemond’s charming smile, his intentions were far from pure. The offer was a calculated move, part of a larger plan to lead Rhaena astray, far from the dragon pits and into a situation that would serve his own need for revenge against Daemon. To him, Rhaena was merely a pawn. A way to strike at his uncle in a game that Rhaena didn’t even know she was part of.

As Aemond bid her goodnight and left her chambers, his mind raced with anticipation of what was to come. The pieces were set, and tomorrow, the game would begin in earnest. Rhaena, oblivious to the darker undercurrents of his offer, had no idea of the treacherous path she was about to tread, guided by Aemond’s hand. She missed her mother, her sister, and the simple life she had known before, but now she was entangled in something far more dangerous. This game of manipulation and deceit, where she was the unwitting prize.

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Rhaena’s chambers as she stood before a mirror, her handmaidens fussing over the folds of her purple cape. The dress, a deep shade that complimented her complexion, was one she loved to wear. Today, though, felt different, and she wanted to be ready for whatever Aemond had in mind in her quest for a dragon.

She stared at her reflection, her expression pensive. The dress felt like armor, the rich velvety fabric a barrier between her and the cold world she often felt so alienated from. As the last ribbons were tied, Rhaena dismissed the handmaidens with a nod and made her way to her father’s chambers. She rehearsed her words in her mind, hoping that Daemon might take notice of her spending time away from him today. It was expected of her to stay silently by his side like he typically does.

When she arrived, the door was slightly ajar. She hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open and stepped inside. Daemon was seated at a large table, his back to her, engrossed in conversation with a maester. It was less a conversation and more of her father lecturing. They were speaking of Aegon the Conqueror, discussing his campaigns and victories with the kind of reverence that Daemon only ever reserved for their ancestors.

“Father,” Rhaena began, her voice soft.

Daemon didn’t turn to look at her. “Not now,” he muttered, waving her off without a second glance. He was too absorbed in the tales of old, too preoccupied with the legacy of a long-dead king to care.

She stood there for a moment, hoping he might look at her, acknowledge her, but when he didn’t, her expression hardened. Even in a new environment, he finds a way to be preoccupied. Now mroe invested in a dead man than her since he doesn’t have his usual places in Dragonstone to ignore her. There was no point in telling him anything about what she’d be up to today. She was just as invisible to him now as she was at the feast last night and Pentos.

Without another word, she turned and left his chambers, her frustration mounting with every step. She didn’t want to see him again, not if he couldn’t even bother to listen to her. As she walked down the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep her thoughts turned to escape, somewhere far from King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark.

She thought of the Vale, its rugged beauty and high mountains. Lady Arryn would be kind to her, she was sure. Or perhaps Highgarden, the Tyrells were known for their warmth and hospitality. Anywhere would be better than here, trapped in castles where her own father couldn’t even spare a moment for her.

Lost in her thoughts, Rhaena soon found herself at the entrance to the dragonpits. The massive structure loomed ahead, its dark stone walls casting long shadows over the ground. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

As she entered, she saw Aemond waiting for her, his tall, lean figure unmistakable even in the dim light. It was so dark, it reminded her of Dragonstone. He was dressed simply, though there was an air of sharpness about him, as if he was always prepared for a fight. His single eye watched her approach, the intensity in his gaze making her heart skip a beat.

“You look prepared,” Aemond said with a smirk as she drew closer.

Rhaena forced a smile, though the weight of her earlier encounter with her father still lingered. “I thought it best to be ready for whatever you have in mind,” she replied, trying to match his tone.

Aemond’s smirk widened, but there was something darker behind it, a glint of calculation that Rhaena couldn’t quite place. “Good. We have much to do today.”

He extended a hand to her, and after a brief hesitation, she took it. The warmth of his grip was a stark contrast to the coldness she felt inside. As they walked further into the dragonpits, Rhaena couldn’t shake the feeling that she was stepping into something far more dangerous than she had anticipated but there was no turning back now.

As Aemond and Rhaena ventured deeper into the dragonpits, the air grew cooler, the light dimmer. The dragonkeepers that lingered around headed the opposite way, clearly having a routine with Aemond and knowing they shouldn’t interrupt him. The rough stone walls, damp and slick with age, seemed to close in around them, casting eerie shadows that danced in the flickering torchlight. Rhaena could hear the distant growls and hisses of the dragons that dwelled within, a reminder of the power that lay hidden in these aging tunnels.

Aemond led the way, his stride confident as he guided her through the winding passages. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The shadows grew thicker, and the faint sounds of the dragons grew louder, more menacing. Rhaena’s steps faltered slightly, but Aemond seemed to revel in the darkness, his smirk growing as he noticed her unease.

Surely hatching a dragon and letting it grow above ground would be better than spending so much time in these depressing caves with the older dragons.

“Not far now,” Aemond murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

Rhaena nodded, trying to steady her breathing, but there was a nervous flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite shake. A few more steps and they entered a large, shadowed cavern. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and sulfur, and from within the darkness came a low, rumbling growl that made Rhaena’s blood run cold.

There, lurking in the deepest part of the cave, was Cannibal. His scales were as dark as night, blending seamlessly into the shadows that surrounded him. Only the gleam of his eye and the faint shimmer of his sharp, jagged teeth stood out in the darkness. He watched them with a predatory stillness, the kind that made Rhaena feel like prey.

“Do you know why they call him Cannibal?” Aemond asked, his tone light, almost playful.

Rhaena shook her head, her eyes wide as she stared at the massive beast. Cannibal’s growl grew louder, the sound vibrating through the cavern, and she instinctively took a step closer to Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest.

Aemond leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “He’s known to feast on his own kind, especially the young. I wonder,” he paused, his voice dropping to a whisper, “what he would think of a little dragon like you?”

Rhaena’s breath hitched, fear coursing through her veins as Cannibal’s growl turned into a low, menacing snarl. Aemond pulled back slightly, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he watched the fear flash across her face. He seemed to relish it, the way her eyes darted between him and the black dragon lurking in the shadows.

But just as quickly, Aemond’s expression softened, and his demeanor shifted back to that of the courteous gentleman. “But of course,” he said smoothly, his voice returning to that practiced gentleness, “you have nothing to fear. As long as you’re with me, Rhaena, you’re perfectly safe.”

His hand found hers again, his touch firm yet oddly comforting, and he squeezed it lightly as if to reassure her. Rhaena swallowed hard, trying to push down the lingering fear. Aemond’s sudden shift from menacing to protective left her feeling off-balance, unsure of what to believe.

“Come,” he said, guiding her away from Cannibal’s lair and back towards the winding tunnels. “There’s something else I want to show you.”

They emerged from the dark passages into the open air, with the sun filtering through the thin clouds. Rhaena blinked against the sudden brightness, the chill of the dragonpits still clinging to her skin. As they walked, Aemond kept her hand in his, a gesture that felt oddly intimate despite the coldness she had sensed earlier.

Rhaena glanced up at him, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Where are we going? The dragonpits are behind us.”

Aemond’s gaze remained ahead, his expression unreadable. “Vhagar doesn’t dwell within the pits,” he explained, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “She’s far too large to be confined in such a place. She prefers the open sky.”

Rhaena’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Vhagar. She should’ve known he was taking her to the mighty beast. The great dragon was humongus when her mother rode her, Rhaena can only imagine she’s still growing. The memory of her mother’s connection to Vhagar was a bittersweet one, and the thought of seeing the dragon now filled Rhaena with a sense of longing.

They continued their journey, moving toward a more isolated area of King's Landing. The bustling noise of the city faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of their footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. It was as if they were venturing into a world that belonged only to them. A secret, hidden place far removed from the prying eyes of the court.

Finally, they arrived at a secluded clearing, and there, resting on a gentle slope, was Vhagar. The dragon was immense, her dark green scales shimmering in the dappled sunlight. She was a creature of legend, a remnant of an age long past, and Rhaena felt a pang of reverence and awe as she gazed upon her.

Aemond’s hand remained on hers as he led her closer to the beast. “She remembers you, I’m sure,” he murmured, his voice almost tender. “She remembers your mother.”

Rhaena’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at Vhagar. The dragon’s eyes were like molten gold, and there was a depth in them that made her feel as though Vhagar was peering into her very soul.

“Are you ready?” Aemond’s voice broke through her reverie, and she turned to him, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

“It's been a while since I’ve been on her, but I'm not afraid,”

Aemond’s smile was soft, almost encouraging. “I’ll help you,” he promised. “There’s nothing to fear. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Once you get this down, you’ll know what to do with your own dragon.”

With gentle, guiding hands, Aemond helped Rhaena onto Vhagar’s large back. His touch lingered on her waist, steadying her as she settled into place. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on Rhaena, and she felt a strange mix of emotions—fear of the unknown, excitement, and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Aemond climbed up behind her, his body close to hers as he took hold of the ropes that controlled the dragon. “Watch closely,” he instructed, his voice low and firm. “Sōvēs”

The great dragon stirred, her massive wings unfurling with a powerful whoosh of air. Rhaena’s heart raced as she felt the ground shift beneath them, and she gripped the ropes tightly, her knuckles turning pale with tension.

“Steady,” Aemond whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Let the ropes guide her, but don’t fight her. Trust her.”

With a mighty leap, Vhagar took to the skies, the wind rushing past them as they soared higher and higher above the Red Keep. Rhaena’s fear slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of exhilaration as she felt the dragon’s powerful movements beneath her.

Aemond’s voice remained steady as he continued to instruct her, guiding her hands on the ropes as they maneuvered through the air. There was a strange thrill in being so close, his presence both unsettling and strangely comforting. He truly wasn't as bad as everyone claimed. Despite the unease that lingered in the back of her mind, Rhaena couldn’t deny the connection they shared in this moment. She felt like a real dragon rider. Her mother would be proud and that’s all she cared about. Her only motivation for wanting a dragon.

As they flew higher, the world below seemed to disappear, leaving only the vast expanse of sky and the rhythmic beat of Vhagar’s wings. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Rhaena felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Freedom.

Hours had gone by. As Vhagar descended gracefully through the sky, Aemond guided Rhaena’s hands on the ropes, his voice a calm anchor in the exhilarating chaos of the flight. “Ease her down slowly,” he instructed, his breath warm against her ear. “Let her wings catch the air. Feel the rhythm.”

Rhaena nodded, her nerves had long since settled as she followed his lead. The initial fear had ebbed away, replaced by a tentative confidence. Aemond’s presence, though unsettling at times, was reassuring now, and she found herself leaning into his guidance.

When they neared the ground, Rhaena felt the massive dragon’s powerful muscles shift beneath them, adjusting to the landing. The ground rose to meet them, and with a final, gentle tug on the ropes, Vhagar touched down with a soft thud. Rhaena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, a wide smile spreading across her face.

“You did well,” Aemond said, his voice laced with something that almost resembled pride. He slid off the dragon first, then offered his hand to help her down. His grip was firm, and when she looked up at him, she noticed the way his gaze lingered on her, as if seeing her in a new light.

“Thanks Aemond,” Rhaena replied, her heart still racing from the flight, though now it wasn’t just from the thrill of the dragon ride. The way Aemond looked at her, the way he stayed close. It was confusing, disorienting, but also intoxicating in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

As they walked away from Vhagar, Rhaena’s guard began to drop, the adrenaline of the flight leaving her more open, more vulnerable. She began to talk, the words spilling out as if she couldn’t hold them in any longer. She’d been telling Aemond all about her life at Dragonstone. “My father, he barely notices me,” she admitted, her voice soft. “He’s always so focused on everything except for me. Even when I’m standing right next to him. I feel like I’m just there. Not important.”

Aemond listened, his expression unreadable, but there was a sharpness in his eye as she spoke. “He doesn’t see your value,” Aemond replied, his tone low, almost conspiratorial. “But I do. You’re intelligent and capable. Far more than Daemon realizes.”

Rhaena looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at his words. She paid no mind to Aemond never referring to Daemon as his uncle. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Anyways, I’ve been helping Jace with his Valyrian. He asked me because I’m good at it, better than most since I spent so much time studying. I think it’s the one thing I’m really good at.”

The mention of Jace darkened Aemond’s expression, though he kept his tone smooth. “Jace,” he repeated, a faint sneer curling his lips. “Of course, he would need help. Valyrian is almost pure in your blood, but perhaps it’s harder for some to grasp.” He paused, his gaze sliding over her, then added with a hint of disdain, “Not all of us have the same heritage, after all.”

Rhaena frowned slightly, “I think he wants to impress Baela. He tries I guess, a little too hard sometimes. But he does try” she said.

Aemond’s smile was tight, his tone patronizing. “I’m sure he does, he’s a strong boy.”

Before she could respond, Aemond’s hand brushed against hers, his fingers curling around hers briefly, sending a shiver up her spine. “But you, Rhaena,” he continued, his voice softening, “you are every bit the dragon. Your blood is refined, your mind sharp. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

His words wrapped around her like a warm cloak, comforting and suffocating all at once. She wanted to believe him, to let his praise drown out the doubts that had plagued her for so long. But there was something in his tone, something that made her feel as if she was being drawn into a web she didn’t fully understand.

By the time they returned to the Red Keep for dinner, the atmosphere between them had shifted. Aemond, who had been so attentive and close during their time alone, became distant, his demeanor cool and aloof in front of the others. He barely acknowledged her, his focus seemingly elsewhere, and Rhaena couldn’t understand why. They had just gotten along so well. The warmth he had shown her earlier was gone, replaced by the icy detachment she had come to associate with him.

The meal passed in a blur of conversation and laughter that Rhaena felt detached from, her mind still turning over her day with Vhagar and her rider. She glanced at him several times, hoping for some sign of the connection they had shared earlier, but he remained cold, his attention on anything but her.

After dinner, Rhaena returned to her chambers, the confusion and disappointment weighing heavily on her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had done something wrong, that she had somehow lost whatever bond they had started to form. It’s just her curse. She can’t grow close to anyone. Not even her own grandmother would ask for her as a ward.

Just as she was about to prepare for bed, a soft knock came at her door. She opened it to find Aemond standing there, his expression once again unreadable.

“Get dressed,” he said, his voice low, almost commanding. “We’re going out.”

Rhaena blinked in surprise. “Out? But where? It’s late.”

Aemond stepped closer, his presence filling the doorway. “I told you I’d teach you about riding dragons, didn’t I? There’s more to learn, and we’re not done. Get dressed, Rhaena.”

The way he said her name, the way his gaze held hers, sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t understand what he meant, what lesson could possibly require them to leave the safety of the Keep at night, but something in his eyes compelled her to obey.

Without another word, she nodded and turned back into her room to change into something that wouldn’t draw attention to her, the uncertainty gnawing at her, but also the strange thrill that came with his attention. Whatever Aemond had planned, she knew there was no turning back now.

The streets of King’s Landing were a world away from the calmer, isolated island of Dragonstone. Rhaena walked beside Aemond, her cape hood pulled low over her head to hide the telltale silver of her Targaryen hair. Aemond, too, was cloaked in darkness, his features obscured beneath the heavy fabric of his dark cape. The night was alive with the loud voices, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the distant hum of the city’s life, all so foreign to her.

She had never ventured into a city like this after leaving Pentos. The narrow streets were crowded with people. Smallfolk seemed to be everywhere, their faces hard and worn, eyes flicking to the cloaked pair as they passed. Rhaena tried not to look directly at anyone, not wanting her lilac eyes to give her away but she couldn’t help noticing the stark difference between her world and theirs. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and the different tang of the sea. The buildings loomed over them, close and oppressive, their walls stained with years of grime. The streets were uneven, cluttered with debris, and the sounds, so many sounds, were overwhelming compared to the quiet corridors of the Red Keep or Dragonstone.

Aemond walked with purpose, his hand lightly resting on her back as he guided her through the labyrinth of streets. He had obviously done this plenty of times. His touch was steady, reassuring in its way, but there was an intensity in his manner that made her uneasy. He kept asking about her father Daemon, his questions probing, digging deeper with each step they took.

“Tell me, Rhaena, what does Daemon say about King’s Landing?” Aemond asked, his voice smooth but with an edge that Rhaena couldn’t quite place.

She hesitated, unsure how to respond. “He doesn’t speak of it much,” she replied vaguely, her eyes darting around, trying to take in everything at once.

Aemond nodded as if he understood, but his next question came swiftly. “And what about the people? What does he think of the people that reside here?”

Rhaena frowned beneath her hood, finding the question strange. “I… I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about the smallfolk much. Why do you ask?”

Aemond’s smile was hidden by the shadows of his cloak, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze even though she couldn’t see his face. “Curiosity,” he said simply, but there was something in his tone that unsettled her.

As they continued walking, Rhaena’s unease grew. She realized just how sheltered she had been on Dragonstone, how little she knew of the world of Westeros beyond its shores. Everything she knew had come from books and hearing the stories of others, no real-world experience. The city was vast and she had underestimated just how many people lived within its walls. The sheer number of them was overwhelming, and the realization that she knew so little of this place made her feel small, insignificant. She hated this feeling.

They turned a corner, and a street performer nearby suddenly called out, announcing their location with a flourish. “Welcome to the Street of Silk, travelers! The finest pleasures in all of the land await you!”

Rhaena’s heart skipped a beat as she realized where they were. The Street of Silk was infamous, known even in the distant reaches of Dragonstone for its brothels and the illicit activities that took place within its confines. Baela told her about this place. She'd even heard whispers of it, stories from servants and knights, but never imagined she would find herself here.

Rhaena had no idea why Aemond would be here, truly, this seemed like the kind of place his brother Aegon would flourish in.

“Aemond,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “We shouldn’t be here. My father, he’ll be furious if he finds out.”

But even as she said it, a flicker of resentment flared within her. Her father, who barely noticed her, who was always more concerned with Aegon, why should she care what he thought? Still, the thought of getting into trouble lingered, mingling with her anxiety.

Aemond didn’t respond, his hand guiding her more firmly now as they approached the entrance of one of the brothels. The building was unassuming from the outside, but there was a heaviness to the air, a sense of secrecy and sin that made Rhaena’s stomach churn. She tried to pull back, but Aemond’s grip on her tightened, his demeanor shifting subtly, becoming more commanding.

Without a word, he led her inside, the door closing behind them with a soft thud that seemed to seal her fate. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood incense and something else, something heady and intoxicating. Aemond moved with confidence, leading her straight into a private room at the back of the establishment.

Rhaena’s heart raced as the door closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the street. The room was small, intimate, with a large bed draped in rich, dark fabrics. Aemond removed his cloak, his silver hair falling into place as he turned to her, his eye gleaming in the low light. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cloak before slowly pulling it from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

“Aemond, what are we doing here?” Rhaena’s voice was a whisper, fear and confusion lacing her words. There was something in his gaze now, something predatory that made her pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.

Aemond stepped closer, his smile soft but with an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “Rhaena,” he murmured, his tone almost tender, but with a darkness lurking beneath. “You said you wanted to learn to be a real dragonrider. To command the skies, to feel the power of a dragon beneath you. But you’ve only begun to learn.”

She frowned, not understanding. “But we already flew Vhagar. You showed me how to steer, how to—”

He cut her off, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck, holding her gently but firmly. “There’s more to it than that. A dragon is not just a beast to be commanded. It’s a force, a power that must be understood, respected. And to become a true dragonrider, you must become one with that power.”

Rhaena’s frustration deepened. “What do you mean?”

Aemond’s smile widened, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “To be a dragonrider, Rhaena, you must ride the dragon. Truly ride it. Feel its strength, its fire. Become one with it.”

Rhaena’s eyes widened as the meaning of his words slowly began to dawn on her. She pulled back slightly, trying to escape his grasp, but Aemond held her fast, his other hand coming up to caress her cheek.

“Don’t you see, Rhaena?” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a twisted kind of affection. “I am a dragon. And to be a real dragonrider, you must ride me.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a wave of horror washing over her as she realized he wasn’t speaking in metaphors or compliments. She almost caught herself releasing a laugh.

She sighed, shaking her head, trying to pull away from him. “Aemond, this isn’t right.”

He silenced her with a kiss, his lips cold and forceful against hers. The horror of the situation gripped her, but she felt trapped, the room closing in around her as Aemond’s grip tightened, pulling her closer. His kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he was trying to consume her. His twisted vision of what it meant to be a dragonrider became clearer with each word he spoke, each touch that sent a shiver down her spine. Aemond’s grip on Rhaena tightened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear, his voice a low, seductive murmur.

“You’re mine now, Rhaena,” he whispered, his tone laced with a dark possession. “No one else will ever understand you the way I do. No one else can make you into the dragonrider you’re meant to be.”

Rhaena’s mind raced, torn between the fear that gripped her heart and the yearning for something more, something beyond the cold indifference of her life. Aemond’s words were intoxicating, seeping into the cracks of her doubts and filling them with a dangerous allure. She thought of her father, how he barely noticed her, how his attention was always elsewhere, on his new family. What did she matter to him? What did she matter to anyone?

Here was Aemond, who saw her, who spoke to her as if she were the most important person in the world. He promised her power, freedom, a life where she could truly be a dragonrider, not just a shadow in the background. The resentment she felt toward her father bubbled up, mingling with confusion and fear, and in that moment, she made a decision.

Maybe Aemond was right. Maybe this was her chance to break free, to carve out a life of her own. She could leave Daemon behind, let him have his new family, his new life. She could be something more, something greater.

Her resolve hardened as she looked into Aemond’s intense, burning gaze. “Ok,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision. “I want to be a dragonrider, a true one.”

Aemond’s expression softened slightly, satisfaction gleaming in his eye. He lifted a hand to her face, caressing her cheek with surprising tenderness. “You will be.”

Slowly, almost reverently, Aemond began to undress her. His hands were sure and steady as he unfastened the clasps of her gown, letting the rich fabric slide from her shoulders and pool at her feet. Rhaena’s breath hitched as the cool air kissed her skin, her heart pounding in her chest as she stood there, exposed, naked, and vulnerable before him.

But as Aemond’s gaze swept over her, there was no cruelty in his expression, no mockery. Instead, there was a hunger, a fierce desire that made her feel powerful, like the dragon he had promised she would become. The fear that had gripped her began to melt away, replaced by a strange sense of freedom, as if she was shedding the last remnants of the girl who had always been in the background.

Aemond’s hands moved to his own clothing, discarding it before pulling her close, their bodies pressed together, skin to skin. The heat of him was intoxicating, overwhelming, and Rhaena found herself leaning into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly shifted beneath her feet.

He kissed her again, but this time it was different—softer, more deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of her. Rhaena responded hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence, fueled by the sense of power that his touch awakened within her.

“Aemond…” she whispered, her voice breathless as she looked up at him, her thoughts a dizzying whirl of emotions. “Why me?”

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something like affection passing through his eye before it was consumed by the burning intensity of his desire. “Because you’re different, Rhaena,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not like the others. I’ve always seen it. I’ve always known.”

His words wrapped around her cloak, banishing the doubts and fears that had haunted her for so long. In Aemond’s arms, she felt powerful, desired, and for the first time, she felt as if she could truly be more..

Aemond’s hands were gentle yet insistent as he guided her toward the bed, his lips never straying far from hers. The world outside the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this moment, this twisted, intoxicating dance of desire.

As they sank onto the bed, Aemond’s movements became slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction. He moved his head between her legs to kiss her wetness. It was obvious it wasn’t his first time with the opposite gender. He wanted to claim her, to make her his in every way. The sounds coming from Rhaena room were quiet enough to be considered discreet but loud enough that he knew the others could hear.

“I hate your father,” Aemond whispered against her skin, his voice low and fervent. “I hate everything about him. But you, Rhaena… you’re different. Your mine, and I will make you more powerful than any of them.”

A strange exhilaration coursed through Rhaena’s veins, a heady mix of fear, desire, and something deeper. A need to break free from the binds that had bound her for so long. As Aemond's hands moved over her skin, exploring her with his fingers and swipes of his tongue she felt herself letting go of the doubts that had once plagued her.

Aemond’s breath was hot against her neck as he moved back up illiciting a soft gasp from Rhaena as he kissed along her collarbone, his lips tracing a path that sent shivers down her spine. “Aemond” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer as if needing the contact to ground herself in this moment.

She knew it was wrong to do this before marriage, but she didn’t care. The world outside this room, with all its expectations and judgments seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

Aemond’s hands were strong still between her legs, his touch sending waves of heat through her body. The roughness of his hands made it obvious that he spent a lot of time training in the courtyard with his sword.

Aemond positioned himself between her legs with deliberate care, fully aware of her inexperience. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath hitching as she felt the warm pressure of his cock teasing her entrance, the sensation both foreign and thrilling. He eased into her slowly, inch by inch, and a soft moan escaped her lips as her body accommodated him, the unfamiliar stretch intensifying her awareness of every movement.

His thrusts were slow and measured, each one deepening their connection, as if he were savoring the moment as much as she was. A low groan of pleasure slipped from her mouth when he finally pushed through the last barrier within her, the intensity of the sensation sending a shiver through her entire body. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and she found him already watching her, his expression a mix of fierce lust and something darker.

Aemond’s hands slid down her arms, his grip firm but not forceful. He kissed her deeply, passionately, before pulling back to meet her gaze once more. “I want you to ride me, Rhaena,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Aemond’s eye burned with a dark intensity as he lay back, his hands resting on her hips as he guided her over him. “Take what you want,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl.

Rhaena hesitated for a moment, the weight of what she was about to do sinking in. But then she looked down at Aemond, at the way his gaze was locked on hers, filled with a mix of desire and challenge. She realized that this was her moment—her chance to take control, to claim the power she had always been denied.

Slowly, she moved over him, her hands bracing on his chest as she took him in. Aemond’s breath hitched, his grip on her hips tightening as she began to move. The sensation was overwhelming, but it was the look in his eyes that truly sent a jolt through her. Admiration.

Rhaena’s movements slowly became more confident, more assured as she moved her hips. She felt powerful, truly powerful, for the first time in her life. The doubt, the fear—they were gone, replaced by a sense of control that she had never known.

As she rode him, Aemond’s hands roamed her body, his touch worshipful, reverent. He looked at her as if she were the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered. And in that moment, Rhaena believed it. She felt like a dragon, fierce and unchained, ready to burn away the past and forge a new path for herself.

Aemond’s breaths and grunts grew ragged, his control slipping as he gave in to the sensations she was creating. “You were always meant to be a dragon rider.”

Rhaena looked down at him, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring the power she held over him. “Show me then,” she whispered, her voice strong and clear. “Show me how to be the dragonrider I was meant to be.”

Aemond’s response was a guttural sound of approval as he guided her hips, matching her rhythm with his own. Their bodies were electric, charged with emotions that neither had the words to express. In that moment, they were equals, two dragons bound by fire and desire.

As they reached their peak together, Rhaena felt something within her shift, something fundamental. She was no longer just Rhaena, the daughter and granddaughter, the forgotten sister. She was a dragon, powerful and unyielding, and no one would ever control her again.

When they both caught their breath, Aemond pulled her down beside him, their bodies entwined as they caught their breath. He brushed a loc from her face, his touch gentle, almost tender.

Rhaena didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. She felt it too, a sense of belonging, of power, of a future where she was no longer in the shadow of others. Now, she had found a strength she didn’t know she possessed, and she wasn’t about to let it go.

A week had passed since that first night Rhaena had spent with Aemond, and in the days that followed, they had continued to meet in secret. The thrill of forbidden encounters consumed her, offering a dangerous escape from the suffocating expectations that had always defined her life. Everything had changed.

Rhaena and Aemond were walking through one of the quieter corridors of the Red Keep when they encountered King Viserys and Daemon. The King appeared distracted, his mind seemingly elsewhere, but Daemon’s sharp eyes immediately locked onto Aemond. He noticed Rhaena standing close to Aemond, and his expression darkened.

“Rhaena,” Daemon said sharply, his voice carrying a note of authority that brooked no argument. “Go to your chambers. We’re leaving later today.”

Rhaena hesitated, her eyes flicking to Aemond, but she nodded and quietly slipped away. Once she was out of earshot, Aemond turned to Daemon with a sly smile. “You seem tense, Daemon. Is there something on your mind?”

Daemon’s expression remained impassive, though there was a flicker of disdain in his eyes. "Nothing that would concern a boy," Daemon replied smoothly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I was merely reflecting on how quickly some people grow up, thinking they’ve mastered the world after a few short years. But experience has a way of teaching humility, doesn’t it?”

“Obviously some of the elderly haven’t properly been taught.”

Viserys, oblivious to the tension between them, smiled at his son. “Daemon and I were just discussing potential wedding proposals for his and Laena’s girls,” he said. “There are many fine Lords in the realm who would be eager to make such an alliance.”

Aemond’s smile grew sharper. “Proposals, yes. But what if those daughters were…sullied? Would these lords still be so eager?”

Daemon’s expression remained impassive, but there was a gleam in his eyes that hinted at a deeper current of thought.

“Lords can be particular, it’s true,” Daemon responded, his tone casual. “Luckily I won’t have that problem.”

Aemond’s smile didn’t falter, though there was a flicker of something sharper in his gaze. “Interesting, indeed. Though I suppose some stories are better left untold, especially when they involve family matters. We wouldn’t want to sully anyone’s reputation unnecessarily.”

Viserys, oblivious to the undercurrents in their exchange, continued with his well-meaning attempts at conversation. “It’s good to see finally speaking to your uncle Aemond. We’ve had enough division in the family, haven’t we?”

Aemond inclined his head slightly, his voice smooth as he replied, “Of course, Father. Family is everything. We wouldn’t want to see anyone, tarnished,by unfortunate associations.”

Daemon’s smile was cool, his eyes holding Aemond’s with a steady intensity. “No, we wouldn’t. It’s always best to keep thing in the family, where they belong.”

The tension simmered just below the surface, neither man willing to show his hand too openly.

“Yes,” Viserys agreed, completely unaware of the charged atmosphere. “Family is what matters most. Which is why it’s important we secure the future with good matches.”

Aemond’s smile sharpened ever so slightly. “Indeed, securing the future is paramount. But one must always be careful. Ensure that what we’re securing is as pure as we believe it to be.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm, almost amused. "Purity is such a relative term, don’t you think? Sometimes what seems less than ideal, flaws and all,” He paused to stare at Aemond’s eye patch before continuing, “turns out to be exactly what’s needed.”

Aemond shrugged lightly, his tone just as light. “Perhaps. Though I’ve always believed in maintaining the highest standards, especially when it comes to matters of blood.”

The exchange continued, each man's meaning of their words hidden beneath a veneer of politeness. Viserys, still oblivious, seemed content to see them interacting at all, completely unaware.

Finally, after a pause, Daemon gave a slight nod, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. “Standards are important. But so is knowing when to bend the rules a little. Life has a way of surprising us all.”

Aemond returned the nod, his smile equally tight. “It does. And it’s those surprises that keep things… interesting.”

With that, the conversation drew to a close, the tension between them lingering even as they parted ways. Aemond turned and walked away, leaving Daemon standing there with Viserys, both men knowing that the exchange had been anything but innocent.

Rhaena made her way back to her chambers, her mind racing with urgency. She needed to act quickly.

As she entered her room, she forced herself to remain calm, focusing on the plan that had been forming in her mind over the past week. She would pretend everything was as it should be, giving no indication of the turmoil or the decisions she had made. Her father would expect her to follow his orders, to obediently return to Dragonstone with him.

And that’s exactly what she would do. At least, at first. She would go back to Dragonstone, gather her belongings, and do everything expected of her. But once there, she would quietly take what she truly wanted: one of the dragon eggs he’d gotten the week beforw, her link to the future she had begun to envision.

With that egg, she would have the power to chart her own course, to leave behind the life that had been decided for her. She wouldn’t be bound by any one. She would take her destiny into her own hands and run. Run to wherever she felt she could finally be free.

As she began to pack, Rhaena’s resolve hardened. She’d have to send a letter to Baela after she got settled. She would go through the motions, play her part until the moment was right. And when it was, she would slip away, leaving behind everything and everyone who had ever tried to control her. With that dragon egg in her possession, she could start a new life, one where she made the rules. Rhaena thought back to the lie she’s been telling Aemond the past few days, that she’d come back to be with him. She wondered how long she would be gone before he realized she left Dragonstone, but not for King’s Landing.

She smiled to herself, a small, determined smile. Soon, she would be gone, and no one would ever hold her back again from her own destiny.

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #rhaena targaryen #hotd #asoiaf #baela targaryen #rhaena of pentos #aemond targaryen #Rhaemond #daemon targaryen #viserys i targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

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