Salvation | HOTD

9

Aemond, now a seasoned man, stands in the throne room alongside his family. The hand, a figure of authority, sits on the Iron Throne as they deliberate the inheritance of Driftmark. The question of who should rightfully claim it becomes a contentious issue, especially with reluctance to bestow it upon Rhaenyra's bastard son.

Of course that cunt couldn't even manage to show up on time.

Alicent's demand for waiting echoed in the throne room, and Aemond couldn't fathom why his mother still harbored such sentiments for Rhaenyra. The very idea sickened him, and he couldn't hide his disdain. As the doors opened, heralding Rhaenyra's entrance as the proclaimed heir, Aemond scoffed audibly, earning a sharp look from Alicent.

Observing Rhaenyra's confident stride with her head held high left Aemond perplexed. In his eyes, she appeared to carry an unwarranted sense of superiority, oblivious to the fact that it was she who stood beneath the weight of their station.

As Rhaenyra's bastard sons trailed behind her, Aemond couldn't help but notice Jace's angry expression and Luke's apparent fear. A sense of disdain washed over Aemond, particularly directed at Luke, whom he deemed pathetic. How had he allowed this boy to wound him? In Aemond's mind, Luke seemed as fragile as a gust of wind could knock him over.

However, amidst the mixed emotions, Aemond's attention shifted. Long silver hair and a striking red dress caught his eye — Aemma. In that moment, she seemed to radiate an ethereal beauty, captivating Aemond's gaze.

Aemond couldn't deny that Aemma had grown into a remarkable young woman. The graceful curve of her hips and the gentle shape of her bosom caught his attention, but it was the softness of her face and the fullness of her lips that truly captivated him. In that moment, a realization dawned upon Aemond — he wanted her by his side, and he was determined to make her his.

Aemond's intense gaze on Aemma didn't escape Jace's notice. Swiftly, Jace pulled Aemma closer, whispering something in her ear. Despite Jace's protective stance, Aemma shook her head and deliberately avoided looking at Aemond.

The bond they shared, the friendship they claimed to have from years ago, now seemed distant and unresolved. Aemond couldn't fathom why Aemma avoided his eyes and wondered if their connection had truly faded during her absence.

Though Aemond understood that Aemma likely informed her brothers about his claim on Vhagar, he couldn't blame her for her bastard brothers' attack. Her mother's decision to take her away wasn't her fault either. When Jace's eyes met Aemond's, the latter sneered at him. Aemond resented the possessive hold Jace had on Aemma, as if restraining her from approaching him, as if she had any inclination to run into his arms and needed to be held back.

Amidst the heated discussions about the inheritance of Driftmark, Aemond's anger simmers, a tempest within him fueled by past betrayals and perceived slights. The voices in the room become an indistinct buzz as his thoughts spiral into a cyclone of resentment. He clenches his fists, the fury intensifying with each passing moment.

As the meeting adjourns, Aemond's gaze remains fixed on Aemma, who stands under Jace's protective wing. His mind churns with plans for the future, a future where he's not shackled by the chains of resentment. Aemma's presence, now seemingly beyond reach, becomes a beacon in the storm of his anger.

Aemond, still seething with anger, struggles to focus on the unfolding events. The political machinations around the throne blur into a haze as his mind fixates on the burning desire to reclaim what he believes is rightfully his — a certain silver-haired princess.