Desires Be Damned • Aemond Targaryen

Chapter Twenty

Dyaena

The clatter of armor clashed with the smooth melody of the music and brought an early end to her and Aemond's dance. Guards were gathering around her weary grandfather while he groaned and grunted from pain. As they lifted his chair, Aemond escorted her back to the table while her family rose from their seats out of respect for the King, to which the Alicent pleaded that they may remain seated. A sense of regret for not granting the Queen's wish of singing for her grandfather slowly crept over her, and she made a silent promise then that she would visit him as soon as she could on the morrow to do just that.

Happiness could not even begin to describe the feeling that warmed her heart as Aemond lifted their joined hands to place a tender kiss on top of hers after he sat back down, his intense violet stare telling where he wished to have his lips instead. Whether it was from her betrothed--a title that felt entirely natural as she looked back at him, even if it hadn't belonged to him for long--or from the red wine's aphrodisiac effects, a flush of warmth flooded her face and her abdomen fluttered at the mere thought of being able to repeat over and over what they had done in secret the night before, along with much, much more. Dyaena knew that come their first night after the wedding, very little would be able to pull them from their chambers for some time. She could already picture them, flesh entangling like two hands intertwining, her bare back pressed against his toned chest as they basked in hot baths while sipping wine, their lips trailing over one another's dripping skin as their fingers explored-

Her carnal musings stopped short as she heard a faint sizzling sound from a tray being placed in front of them by two servants. It smelled heavenly, but when she turned to see what the dish was, nausea sourly crept up her throat at the sight of the whole roasted pig, and the memories that came rushing back so harshly felt as though their impact had punched a hole straight through her chest.

Behold! The Pink Dread!

It's just some harmless fun, niece, no need to get so worked up. See, Aemond here understands.

Be sure to mount her carefully, brother. The first flight's always rough. And Dyaena, if you ask nicely, I'm sure Aemond will let you ride the beast as well, someday.

Looking away from the pig, she hoped to meet Aemond's eye, but was sadly disappointed as she watched his head turn further to look past the dish, his attention instead falling farther down the table to the boy who simply couldn't suppress his smile and chuckles. The same memories seemed to be resurfacing for Luke as well, but clearly her brother looked back upon that day in a much different light.

Please, no, she thought as she saw Aemond's jaw clench sharply and felt hot tension grip the back of her neck, her body's way of warning her that something unsavory was soon to come to pass.

And come to pass it did.

Before she could will her hand to give his a comforting squeeze or part her lips to offer salving words, Aemond's hand tore from hers to ball into a fist and roughly slam down onto the table as he abruptly stood, his eye never leaving Luke. The loud force of the impact shook the dishes and cutlery and put an end to the music at once. Reaching for his goblet, Aemond didn't even bother to put on a mask of pleasantness as he raised his cup.

"Final tribute."

The coolness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine while her palms grew damp. It felt as though everyone held their breaths in anticipation as all eyes focused on the prince that stunned the room into silence.

"To the health of my nephews," he continued, "Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise..."

For several moments, the word they all knew was to come seemed to catch in his throat and dance temptingly on his tongue, as if he were having second thoughts of letting it slip through his lips. But his apprehension was just a fleeting notion as he faintly nodded his head and hummed in acceptance that what he was to say next would be worth the consequences that would surely follow. Dyaena could only grasp at the red fabric of her dress splayed on her lap and swallow dryly through the heartbeat in her throat as she watched the man that made her see the world through rose tinted glass be the very cause of its first fracture.