Salvation | HOTD

2

After the celebration, Aemond, consumed by a seething fury, made his way towards Aemma's chambers. The echoes of the revelry still lingered in the air, but in the corridors, a palpable tension arose as he approached his niece's quarters. His steps were purposeful, the weight of his authority resounding with every footfall.

Aemma's defiance, her brazen disregard for his orders, fueled the flames of Aemond's anger. The grand celebration had served as a mere facade, concealing the simmering familial discord that now demanded confrontation. As he neared her chambers, the subdued sounds of the castle at night underscored the impending clash, a confrontation that had been set into motion by her audacious actions.

Aemond burst through the heavy doors of Aemma's chambers, the weight of his fury driving him unannounced into the lavishly decorated space. The sudden intrusion startled Aemma, causing her to jump up from her chair, the books she had been engrossed in tumbling to the floor in an untidy cascade.

Aemma, having taken over Rhaenyra's old apartments, had transformed the room into a regal haven befitting a Queen. The opulent decor clashed with the palpable tension that now hung in the air. Yet, despite the grandeur, the room bore witness to a silent power struggle, an unspoken battleground where familial discord played out behind closed doors.

Yet this power struggle only seemed to be one sided.

In the midst of this clash, Aemond's gaze involuntarily swept over Aemma, dressed in her night clothes. The flimsy and see-through fabric did not escape his notice.

"Hello?" Aemma retorted angrily, her tone laced with indignation. "You cannot just barge into a lady's room!" Her eyes, filled with defiance, met Aemond's, challenging his intrusion into her private sanctuary.

Aemond, unmoved by her protest, met her gaze with a steely resolve. "You dared defy my orders," he countered, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Aemma's angry huff resonated within the lavishly adorned chamber, her frustration palpable as she confronted Aemond. "What am I to do all day except read?" she retorted, a tone of annoyance underscoring her words. The opulent surroundings seemed to mock the limitations imposed upon her by Aemond's decree—restrictions that had turned her lavish accommodations into a golden prison.

Aemond, unmoved by her protest, regarded her with a stern resolve. "Your reading should be the least of your concerns, niece," he responded coolly, the weight of his authority lingering in the air. The tension between them simmered, a silent acknowledgment of the familial discord that played out within the confines of the room.

Aemma's outburst cut through the air like a dagger, her words laced with a raw intensity. "God, I fucking hate you! I've done everything you asked me to do! Why can't you just let me have a bit of fun?" Her voice, filled with a seething anger and frustration, echoed within the chamber.

Aemond, unfazed by her vehement words, maintained a stern composure. The weight of authority pressed upon him, yet he could not deny the undertones of rebellion that simmered beneath the surface. The room, once a sanctuary of opulence, now bore witness to the unbridled clash between a ruler's commands and the impassioned plea for a taste of liberation.

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the unresolved tension between uncle and niece. Aemma's defiance, seemed to collide with the unyielding walls of Aemond's authority. 

Aemond, his patience strained, moved with a sudden burst of energy. He grabbed Aemma, his grip firm, and his voice thundered through the room as he yelled, "Your bit of fun could lead to you secretly collecting allies, rallying support, and starting another civil war. Is that what you want? Another civil war?" His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the tumultuous history that haunted House Targaryen.

Aemma's defiant cry echoed in the chamber, demanding release from Aemond's firm grip. "Let go of me! You're hurting me!" she shouted, the strain evident in her voice as his fingers dug hard into her arm.

His patience eroded by her resistance, Aemond, his anger simmering, faced her push with a surge of indignation. The act of defiance only fueled the flames of his wrath. In an explosive moment, he reacted with a forceful shove, sending Aemma crashing to the floor.

Aemma's cry reverberated in the room as her head collided with the floor, producing a loud thud that underscored the intensity of the moment. The nightgown's fabric clung to Aemma's form, revealing more than intended as it pulled up, exposing her creamy thighs. The unintended exposure added a layer to the charged atmosphere.

Aemond kneeled down and grabbed Aemma by the throat forcing the weeping girl to look at him, "I am your King, you will do as I say or you will die like your whore mother." 

Aemond threw her down again before standing up, and leaving her on the floor.

Upon his departure, his fury was so consuming that he remained oblivious to the hateful gazes of the Princess's knights and their tightened grips on their swords.

But now he would go and bed his new wife and put that cunt of a princess out of his mind.