What I Did, I Did for Us | Aemond Targaryen

Eight

Seeing his nephew married, Aemond was eager, now more than ever, to take Aemma as his wife. He was restless and impatient — a trait he no doubt shared with his betrothed, who had voiced her frustration at waiting more than once.

However, Rhaenyra had been firm in her decision, determined to appropriate a reasonably lengthed engagement, as per the customs of Westeros. Still, this didn't deter the couple from spending their available time together, supervised or not.

"I have half a mind to sequester you off to Dragonstone and be done with it," the prince murmured.

Aemma gaped at her uncle, shocked at his indecorousness. "Aemond, we cannot elope — imagine the anger we'd be faced with once our family discovered it."

His remark was made in pure fun, but Aemond considered it more with each passing day that he could not have her. The one-eyed prince had waited so long already — his entire life, the moment he began to feel such a way for his niece.

"I cannot wait any longer," Aemond grasped her hand. "I have waited an eternity already."

"Impatient, aren't we," the princess mumbled.

"It's not as if you don't feel the same."

Aemma couldn't stop her smile from spreading as her uncle reached between them gently to brush his fingers through her hair.

"I do, and I am — impatient beyond measure," she assured him.

Aemond made a noise of understanding, nodding slightly as his head tilted down to get a better look at her — he was so much taller than his niece.

"My mother is praying that we conceive a child quickly," the one-eyed prince confessed.

Aemma felt her face flush, a tingle of warmth reaching her cheeks and stretching down her neck as he played with a strand of her hair. It took everything in her not to turn away from him in her sheer embarrassment — the idea of their guards being so nearby was enough to send the young woman into a tizzy.

"I'm afraid it's up to the Gods to decide whether we're blessed or not," she mused, grinning at his expression.

"We shall see," Aemond replied, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear. He ran his thumb along the soft skin of her earlobe before resting his hand against the gentle curve of her neck. "You're incredibly enticing, and I'm determined."

"Aemond Targaryen!" his betrothed exclaimed, thumping his chest in reproach. "I had not known you to be such a charmer."

Aemma watched his expression shift, the edges of Aemond's face softening as he slowly let out a breath — relieved that she wasn't cross with him for such mentionings. The tension in his neck and shoulders loosened, and he smiled.

"It shouldn't come as a surprise that I enjoy courting your affections, niece," he told her softly.

Aemond hadn't expected her lips to suddenly press against his at the admittance, a searing feeling like flames against flesh.

His niece reached up to catch her balance, grabbing the lapels of his jerkin and pulling him to her. Aemma kissed him without reservation — not caring if the guards or the whole kingdom could see.

The one-eyed prince chased the kiss, but she pulled away before he could manage it. Aemond let out a small sound of frustration, almost needy in its tone.

"I enjoy it as well," she whispered, loosening her grip on him and stepping away despite Aemond's hesitancy to allow it.

Aemma took his hand instead and gently led him from the garden back toward the keep. They walked along the outer walls, accompanied by their small entourage.