What I Did, I Did for Us | Aemond Targaryen

One

It was late — deep into the night, but Aemma could not sleep. She lay awake, tossing and turning in her bed, acutely aware of the guard rotation outside her door.

Her mind was racing, recounting details of the dinner from the night before — how sour the mood had gone after the King retired. And her uncle, Aemond, with his vicious toast at the end. He'd intentionally reopened old wounds the princess had spent years trying to heal without a care for how it would affect the evening.

The prince was grown — they were no longer children, and Aemma was unimpressed with his behavior.

While she struggled with her thoughts, the door to her chambers creaked open, making her go still. Someone had entered her room and was making their way toward her slowly.

"Aemma?" a familiar voice whispered.

Rolling to one side, Aemma found her brother at the end of her bed, hand raised as if to shake her awake. She breathed a sigh of relief as the fear dispersed — it had only been Jacaerys.

"I'm not the only one awake at this hour, I see," the princess mumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position. "Is something wrong?"

Silence — her brother looked uneasy. "The King is dead."

Aemma blinked at him, startled by his admittance. "Viserys — our grandsire, is dead?"

"Yes, recently."

"And how do you know this?" her mind was still trying to catch up, reeling from the news.

Jace glanced toward the door, then back at her. "Daemon sent some Gold Cloaks he trusts to collect us."

The princess followed his gaze and spied the metallic sheen of armor outside the door. Already, she could hear voices exchanging words in hushed tones. Her siblings had all been gathered — she was the only one unaccounted for.

"Where are they taking us?" Aemma slipped into her robe before following him out.

"To our mother's chambers," Jacaerys explained, taking Joffrey in his arms — the boy was getting almost too big for it. "We'll be safe there."

Baela appeared at her side, their hands immediately searching for one another. They squeezed tightly, not letting go for a moment as they were guided toward Rhaenyra's chambers.

The room was empty, save for Aegon, Viserys, and their nannies — Daemon and her mother were nowhere to be found.

They were quickly ushered inside by the guards, who took their leave to stand outside the door.

"Where are they?" Lucerys's brow was creased with worry as he glanced around.

Jace settled Joffrey in a chair and sighed. "With the queen."

Aemma was assured that her stepfather had taken precautions to keep Rhaenyra safe — he alone was a worthy protector. It would take a fool to cross Daemon while safeguarding his wife.

She could already picture the carnage — a dragon's fury was not fickle.

"It's good we delayed our departure," Rhaena was sitting on the floor with the babes. "Had we returned to Dragonstone as planned, the King would be dead, and they'd likely be readying Aegon to take the throne."

Aemma's stomach churned bitterly at the thought. "The role of King would suit him ill."

"Indeed, it would."

Everyone turned toward the door as Daemon strolled in, having heard the tail end of their conversation. He was smirking, but his casual demeanor ended there — hand resting firmly over the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at a moment's notice.