Seeing the Iron Throne after so long feels horribly bittersweet. Seated on it should be your stepmother Rhaenyra, not her traitor of a half-brother - and your cousin - Aegon, instead.
The knights that flank you roughly push you forward until you are standing before the throne. Your eyes blaze with fury at this indignity.
“Lady Y/N,” he sneers.
The Conqueror’s crown rests atop his head, its rubies gleaming brilliantly, and the sight only enrages you more. He is neither worthy nor deserving of it. He is no king, and so you refuse to accept him as such.
“Prince Aegon,” you reply stiffly. At once, the knights’ grip on both of your arms tightens, and Aegon’s jaw clenches.
“You will acknowledge your king,” he snarls.
Your mouth remains closed, much to his displeasure.
He rises from the throne to approach you. “It is only to avoid being branded a kinslayer that you are not already dead,” he whispers.
You give him a mirthless smile before spitting directly into his face.
Aegon flinches, but when his eyes next meet yours, they are filled with anger. “You are your father, you wilful bitch,” he hisses, sharply backhanding your face.
Although your cheek stings and a hot tear is running down, you do not stumble or waver. “That I am,” you say. “And when he discovers what you’ve done, he’ll kill you and anyone that stands in his way.”
You are your father Daemon’s pride and joy, and your words certainly hold merit. Aegon knows this; although he acts nonchalant, his face is pale.
“Against Vhagar and my brother, your dear father stands little chance.”
As he turns away, your gaze shifts to the right… to an all-too familiar face.
“Take her to the cell-”
“Brother.”
Aemond interjects before Aegon can finish giving his command. Although he speaks to his brother, his gaze remains on you.
“What is it?” asks the pretender impatiently.
“She is still a lady,” he says. “Our cousin. My chambers are large enough, let me take charge of her instead. She will not escape.”
Aegon’s lip curls. “That is not what concerns me, Aemond.”
As children, you had all grown up together. Although you and Aegon never got on, you were close to his siblings - particularly Aemond, and your shared affection for one another was little secret.
Seeing your childhood friend on opposite sides of this war is bad enough, without the painful knowledge that in another world, the two of you could easily have been something more by now.
The look he directs to you is suddenly filled with hate, and it momentarily stuns you.
“You need not be concerned, Your Grace,” he says, sounding convincingly disgusted. “I assure you.”
Aegon gives you an arrogant smirk as he speaks next. “Then you may take her away, brother.”
The knights release your aching arms, but they are given only a moment’s reprieve before Aemond strides forward and hauls you away, his grip just as firm.
He doesn’t say a word until you reach his chambers and the door is closed behind you. At once, he releases your arm.
“Y/N,” he sighs, not bothering with formalities. “Did you really need to do that?”
You grin in spite of yourself. “Yes. And I’d do it again.”
Despite the sad circumstances of your reunion, it amuses you to watch him unsuccessfully stifle a smile. “I know that,” he says. “I have missed you and your insolent ways.”
“As if you’re any better than me.”
Aemond shakes his head with a chuckle, embracing you in his arms nonetheless. “You are definitely worse.”
“I missed you too,” you smile, but it is tinged with sadness. “I wish I could’ve seen you under better circumstances.”
“As do I,” he sighs. “You did not deserve such humiliation. I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “Don’t be. You are not your brother. Besides, my father would almost certainly behave the same way towards him.”
“If not worse,” Aemond mutters, and you roll your eyes. He and your father had never gotten along, even before the death of Viserys, which only put more pressure on your friendship with him.
Moving away, you perch yourself on the edge of his bed to kick off your boots and sit cross-legged. Aemond soon joins you, and the two of you sit in content silence for a while.
After a moment, he quietly takes your hand.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“That everything has changed,” you answer,“ but not for us.”
“How?”
You turn to him with a smile. “We’ve always had to sneak around, haven’t we?”
It is true. Relations between his side of the family and yours had soured long before war broke out, to the point where you would arrange to meet with each other in secret rather than risk the wrath of those closest to you.
He chuckles at that. “I’d always wonder whether marrying you could heal the rift in our family. Not least because it would take away the pressure of keeping our friendship a secret.”
His admission doesn’t surprise you because you had always wondered the same thing, but the idea warms your cheeks nonetheless. Often, you wished someone else would put the idea forward - but they never did.
“Do you think it still could?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Our marriage would probably not last long with your father around.”
“Because he could attempt to annul it?”
Aemond grins. “Because he will kill me.”
You smack his hand from yours at once. “He will not!” you protest. “He may not like you but he loves me, and because he loves me he would never dare to kill you.”
“But he would never allow us to marry,” he points out. “And neither would Aegon.”
His hand cups your jaw and gently turns your face to the left, touching the angry red mark that Aegon so courteously left on your cheek. Against your burning skin, his fingers are ice cold.
“What are we going to do?” he sighs.
“My father will come for me, that much is certain. And when I return to Dragonstone, I am sure there will be a suitor waiting for me already,” you add bitterly.
“We can think about that later,” Aemond decides, getting up from the bed. “For now… we should enjoy the time that we have together.”
An idea is already beginning to form in your head. It is dangerous and reckless and potentially stupid, but you are your father’s daughter, after all.
You get up too, your heart suddenly hammering wildly at your proximity to one another. “What do you have in mind?”
He answers you with a searing kiss, one that nearly knocks you off your feet does he not steady you with an arm around your back. Without a second thought you kiss him back, your arm around his neck and your hand tangled in his hair despite knowing better than to do anything of the sort.
“I cannot let you leave my side again,” he whispers. “I love you, I always have.”
“As have I,” you smile, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You don’t have to let me go, Aemond. You have the greatest dragon of them all, we can get as far away from here as we want.”
As you expect, he is a little apprehensive. “What of the consequences?”
“Fuck the consequences,” you say at once. “My father married my stepmother with nobody’s permission, and all anybody could do was accept it.”
Aemond grins. “And so too will he.”
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“A little.”
Laughing to yourself, you pull him down for another kiss.