Before the union of Rhaenyra with Ser Laenor Velaryon, an event etched forever in memory took place when Daemon claimed Rhaenyra's innocence in the hidden corners of a brothel, planting a seed of life within the princess rightful to the Iron Throne...
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For what is a man, what has he got? If not for himself, then has he naught To say the things he truly feels And not the words of one who kneels The record shows, I took my blows And I did it my way
"Ah, indeed! That is, of course, the duty of my servants, but I shall assure that my finest guests have the most lavish room available." Prince Sebastian divulged, with a glimmer of his eyes that only Aemond could see—lust.
Rhaella smiled feverishly at the man, whose face resembled that of a sculpture. "Thank you for your hospitality. It is such a pleasure to see such beautiful sights, like your kingdom."
In a tone laced with sarcasm and playful the Dornish prince remarked, "Oh, such a recumbent girl! You mustn't own a mirror in King's Landing, I suppose..."
"You mustn't humor me, Prince Sebastian. It is entirely unfair to the marvels of this kingdom—all of whom, are quite grand in beauty and wit, I assume?"
His eyebrows twitched as he grazed the woman's face, scanning each inch of her being. "None of the Dornish women are nearly as captivating as you, m'lady."
Aemond grit his teeth, with his hands placed at each side of his holsters. "I believe we are quite exhausted from our ride. Continue to pave the way for our chambers, would you?"
Prince Sebastian cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably at Aemond. "Right, follow me," the man announced, as he led the two towards the grand staircase of the palace.
As the three reached the top of the palace, the prince stopped dead-center of a wide, elegant door with embroidered flowers on the edges. "Here we are, Targaryens."
With a swift movement, he turned the knob and jolted the door open. As the doors swung ajar, Rhaella peered into the room, finding the most beautiful mediterranean furniture, with marble flooring and a balcony overlooking the royal garden.
"My goodness!" she exclaimed, rushing through the doors. "This is—oh, it's beyond spectacular!"
She then ran towards the bed like a child, and slammed her entire being into the soft mattress covered in Egyptian cotton, and more pillows than she'd ever seen.
"Oh, Aemond! Have you ever seen such a beautiful sight?"
The man chuckled, his eye watching her bouncing on the bed. "Indeed, but the beauty I recognize here is more than the surface, it's the quality."
Prince Sebastian, who stood at Aemond's side grinned. His voice, callous and amused, "That is what unsightly people say."
Upon hearing the arrogant man's words, the Targaryen prince snapped his head at the man with a deadly expression.
"I am most famished! I mustn't keep you two any longer, hmm?" Prince Sebastian scurried away, back into the hall and out of sight.
Rhaella smirked, as she continued bouncing on the bed. "Prince Sebastian is quite the character, isn't he? A bit rough around the edges, much like you."
The young, pale blond prince pursed his lips at his future wife. "I disagree, my love. He hasn't the slightest bit of Targaryen blood, not even our soft, long hair, nor our porcelain skin."
Her once playfulness formed into bittersweet within seconds. The princess flipped back down on the Queen-sized bed, and winced. "No, I am referring to your demeanor. You share a similar vain, abrasive approach, though, he's much more charming."
Aemond scoffed. "Lies, I acknowledge my tendency of being harsh, but nothing of the sort for vanity!"
"Interesting, fine." She breathed.
"What are you going on about? I can feel your irritation, and I loathe it." Aemond seethed.
The princess adjusted herself on the bed, sliding her hands over her legs and propping them as if they were fixed together. "I only notice the finest details of a woman. The perkiness of her breast, and how smooth her skin is brings my heart palpitating joy!" Rhaella exclaimed, with an undertone of sarcasm. "Sound familiar, Aemond?"
"Are you insinuating that my feelings for you are purely on the basis of appearance? Absolute horse shit, girl! A lie, it's treason," the man grumbled, his single eye protruding from the socket.
Shaking her head, Rhaella offered a sheepish smile. "My love, much like the flirtatious Prince Sebastian, you only acknowledge my beauty. For I, unlike you, simply cannot comprehend that I am to be favored over that of a stack of hay bales!"
Aemond chuckled. "Woe is me, niece! God forbid people may find you appealing to the eye. I couldn't bare such a privilege..."
"Must you mock me at every opportunity? Please, give me one reason why I shan't ask of Prince Sebastian to extend an additional bedroom, separate from this one?"
For once in his sixteen years as Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, the young man got on his knees before another. His eye sparkled with a hint of sincerity—that kindness of a man who would do anything for his love.
Somewhat reluctant, Rhaella stood from the bed, and stood in front of the vulnerable man. "You are quite the mystery, Aemond Targaryen," the princess cooed, her hand grazing the man's chiseled jawline, leading towards his slightly opened mouth.
With gentleness, she slid her thumb gently into Aemond's agape mouth, and massaged her finger against his prickly tongue. He then pulled her hand from his mouth, and began her hands, leading back to her palm.
In between kissing the woman's fingers, the young and hormonal prince whimpered, "I want you more than any piece of gold, or crown bestowed upon my head. I crave your touch, my love."
"Prove it," she whispered softly, her violet eyes scanning each inch of Aemond's face.
"My god, where did that innocent, pure creature I am betrothed to flee, only to become replaced with such a vivacious and fierce princess?"
The thrill of having control over another brought a sense of adrenaline soaring through the woman's veins. She smirked at the sight of Aemond begging for more.
"I have always been here. Yet, I waited for the moment when you bend the knee, and begged me for more," Rhaella licked her lips, looking down at the prince.
Prince Aemond began considering his life decisions, how he is currently bending the knee for his betrothed, and quite frankly, how fast he folded in her presence. With a sigh of disbelief, the man's lip trembled, looking at a woman who is favored by the gods.
"I want you," the prince grumbled. "I want you so fucking bad, Rhaella."
With a tantalizing smirk, she ran her fingers through the man's long pale locks, and whispered sensually into his ear, "you haven't yet told me what else you favor about me, other than my beauty."
In a deep, gruff voice, Aemond growled at Rhaella's teasing. "Why must you punish me in such a way, my betrothed?"
"Answer my question, and I shall reward you in ways no other can."
He clenched his jaw, narrowing his single eye in Rhaella's direction. "You are the only person in Westeros who is foolish enough to taunt the prince of the seven kingdoms," Aemond remarked, licking his lips.
The vulnerable man continued, his voice hitching in his throat, "I find you to be brave—a bit too brave, and wise beyond your years. You are an intelligent creature. Now, if you must ask why I love you, then perhaps you have turned a cheek to my admiration for your most appealing qualities, which is not your resounding beauty."
