"Aemond."
Silence.
"Aemond look at me!"
"I wondered when you'd finally find me again..." It should have been six years ago. "Took you long enough."
"Listen to me."
"What? Are you not busy galavanting about with Aegon? Do not think I didn't see you both." Bitterness invaded his tongue.
"That is none of your business."
"It is all of my business my betrothed." He smirked. "Every inch of it."
Laenora fell into an uncomfortable silence, her eyes flickered between Aemond's stiff figure and the way his fingertips flipped the pages of his book, his eye didn't even grace her for a single moment. How had he affected her so much yet made her feel so terribly unseen?
"What is it Laenora?
"I shall marry you."
"As if there was little choice in the matter." He flicked his pages, still not sparing her as much as a gaze. "That sword you were so terribly fond of in the courtyard with your bastards waits there for you." He motioned, "Take it as a wedding gift."
He noticed.
The Princess fumbled the smile upon her lips, trying to hide it as best to her abilities but Aemond had already seen it, and he too harboured a secret smile of his own. Even in the midst of his own battle against Cole he'd seen her from a million miles away and noticed the look on her face when she'd lifted the blade, it was the way she'd used to look at him. She was utterly insufferable and so he knew when his father declared their engagement he'd have to get it for her, it was what any good husband would do, what any man would do; or so he told himself.
The Targaryen watched further as his betrothed walked to her sword, where it waited sheathed upon the top of his fireplace.
"How did you get it?"
The weapon fell upon her palm, it's sheath upon the ground. It fit her better than before, connected with her further than it once did, almost on a subconscious level. The blade was hers and hers alone. Laenora's smile unveiled itself as the sapphire in it's hilt glinted up at her once more.
"I have my ways."
She sat herself comfortably upon the armchair across from Aemond's and laid the sword across her lap. He watched her every move, noticing that when she wasn't glaring at him or his family or making rude remarks that she often looked like the girl she used to be, the one he shared a cradle with. The one he'd yearned for.
"I am... an object?" She mumbled, her fingertips caressing the blade.
"What?"
"You called me an object."
"When?" He huffed.
It was clear the man was impatient with his niece, or at least that was what he wanted her to believe, and yet the more he spoke to her the more time he gained in her presence. And so his words began to spill.
"A night ago, during our dance."
"You remember then?"
"Clearly. But an object?
"Yes, my object."
"Yours?"
"I do not speak in riddles niece."
"Yet your tongue still twists them."
"And yet you still sit here before me as my betrothed. As my object... I may not have chosen this life for us but it does not make you any less mine. Any more questions?"
"Hightower Cunt." She spoke plainly, moving for the door, seething on the inside.
"If you are planning to speak to my brother I wouldn't. People will whisper."
"Then I shall give them something to whisper about."
"Aegon already does that enough. Sit down Laenora."
"No."
"Do not cause a problem niece, I enjoy my reading time. Sit down or I will put you down."
"I am heir to the iron throne! Watch your tongue."
"And I shall be your king." He rolled his eye, "So I do not need to watch my tongue so long as it does not go near another woman."
The Velaryon let out a scoff, moving for the door yet again only for it to all but fly open before her. Ser Criston stood upon the other side, his helmet clutched beneath his arm, a grimace on his face and knowing eyes as if he had been listening all along.
"Princess Laenora." He greeted her. "I have looked all over for you."
"What is it Cole?" Aemond called from his seat, placing his book down.
"King Viserys requires the princess immediately."
"But the hour is late."
"And yet you are still up princess. I do not mean to alarm you but... it is almost time."
The dread that seeped into Laenora Velaryon's heart was only alike with one moment she'd felt before; when she'd believed her father to be dead. But not Viserys surely? She knew he was sick, knew he was at death's door, but the notion of the kind king ever settling into his death bed twisted her gut. How had he declined so quickly? How had it all gone so wrong?
It was only six years ago that he'd read stories to her, held her hand and walked her through the castle yards, put her to bed when she called for him. And now he was dying.
"A moment." She whispered, the words curled off her tongue before she could stop them and before she even knew it she was knelt at Aemond's side.
The boy stared into the fireplace longingly, his stare unchanging, yet a hint of betrayal found home in his eye. He mulled over Criston's words, over and over again. His father, his own father, had picked another before him once again. First Rhaenyra, then Lucerys, and now Laenora. Even in death he did not choose Aemond, and that was the worst pain of all.
"Aemond." He felt her hand upon his, her grasp rough yet skin so familiar. "Aemond, come."
He didn't dare move. Why should he be where he is not wanted? He knew the harsh sting of not being chosen by his father, far too well. But would he rid himself of his last farewell?
"Aemond." She spoke again. This time Aemond squeezed her palm, squeezed it so tightly that the girl was worried her fingers would break, and still she let him.
"Now is no time to bicker, now is no time at all."
The prince nodded ever so softly, and stood, pulling Laenora with him as Cole lead them to the death bed of their king.
It was a silent walk, and they arrived at his chambers far too quickly, far too quickly to understand what they were about to witness. But in truth nothing could ever prepare the future king and queen for the sight they would see.
Viserys lay alone in the dusk, mumbling sweet nothings to himself, high on milk of the poppy. The smell of rot invaded their senses and Laenora had to refrain herself from gagging. This was no longer her Grandsire, but a man broken.
What had they done to him?
"Grandfather." Laenora called to him, "Tis Laenora. Aemond is with me."
"Father." The blonde spoke softly.
Viserys smiled weakly upon the pair and held his only hand out for them. He could hardly tell who they were, but his soul knew them truly.
"Please... Princess, help me sit."
"Grandsire you must rest-"
Before the bastard could finish her sentence Aemond had wrapped his arms beneath his father's and forced him into a sitting position. The one eyed prince took care to fluff his pillow behind him, and tuck his blankets up further beneath his chin, his love for his father far stronger than any resentment he held.
"I only wish... to see you clearly." He groaned in agony, "I wish you will remember me in the same way."
"Grandfather. Your youthful looks betray you." Lae chuckled, tears fell her cheeks as she clutched his hand. "How could I remember you in any other light?"
"Oh dear girl."
He coughed, his lungs rattling.
"Father... I'm here." Aemond spoke hesitantly, taking his hand too, sharing it between himself and his bride.
Viserys mumbled, his voice almost a ghost, "My fearsome boy."
The Velaryon watched as the first tear she'd ever seen fled the Targaryen's eye. Aemond was mourning before her. Laenora had never seen such a side to him.
"The two of you... So aligned. Like the stars... I can feel it." Viserys mumbled, "It is almost time."
"I should get the maesters." Laenora quickly stood, stumbling upon her own feet, but Aemond was quick to grab her hand once more, pulling her back down.
"Sit." He spoke bluntly, yet his eyes pleaded.
Viserys reached out for her again, this time he placed her hand upon his cheek, relishing in her touch. His skin rough, yet so familiar.
"Aemma." He whispered, "Is... Is that you?"
Laenora stayed quiet, her lip trembling as her grandfather leant in even closer.
"My sweet love."
And then she began to sob, truly sob. Her head in her hands, shaking, her small body rattling with emotions too big for her. Aemond's eye widened and before he could think to halt his own decision, her head was upon his chest and he clutched her harder than he ever had before. He had only ever wanted to protect her from the world. Deep down, part of that had never changed.
"Aemma?"
"Tis okay Laenora. Tis okay." He shushed her.
"You should not see him in such a way." Alicent's shrill voice suddenly invaded the king's chambers, her feet marching towards the pair. "Take her back to her chambers."
"Mother-"
"Go! Now! Both of you!"
Together, they returned to Aemonds chambers. Laenora cried the whole way, buried against Aemond's chest, his arms encapsulating her in his warmth. She'd never been held in such a way.
He sat her before the fireplace, a blanket around her shoulders to warm her, and he sat quietly upon his chair. No words were spoken between the betrothed, not for hours as Laenora lay curled up beside the fire and Aemond read, the pages of his book completely unturned. He couldn't read, not when she was sat so idly in his chambers, so numb.
"Laenora you must sleep." He spoke suddenly, drinking a goblet of wine she didn't realise he had.
"I am okay." She lied
"We may not be as close as when we were children but I will be your husband one day soon. So listen when I speak to you."
"I do listen, I simply do not heed."
"Clearly."
"What is it you're reading?"
The Velaryon was the first to approach, cautiously yet still so sure of herself. Her blanket fell from her shoulders and down her body before pooling upon the floor. Aemond could instantly see the deep bags beneath her eyes and the puffiness in her cheeks. She had been crying for hours. Silent. Without him.
"Laenora..." He reached out to touch her cheek, hardly thinking, but she was quick to reject his hand, pushing it back to the arm of his chair, and then his thoughts returned to him.
"Please, show me."
"Tis nothing, just works of the maesters."
"Show it to me." She asked him again, begged him, sitting at the foot of his chair. He stared down upon her, softness brimming his very soul, and so he retrieved his book from the table, opening it from the very first page, ultimately losing his original place.
"Your place." She pointed out, her finger brushed the paper.
"I will find it again." He shrugged
"A book on dragon riding? I thought you'd already claimed the ugliest dragon in the seven kingdoms." She observed.
"And the eldest. The largest. The most battle hardened." He cracked a soft smile, listing on his fingers.
"But dragon riding? Does she not serve you?"
"She does. As well as a dragon might."
"But?"
"I was actually reading it for you. I know you are still yet to claim one."
"For me?"
"Must I repeat myself?"
"But why?"
"I will not have a wife who cannot ride a dragon." He scoffed.
"I have tried as I may, but the wild dragons are not easy to catch."
"The right one will find you." He told her.
"When you claimed Vhagar, that night, before..."
"I lost my eye?"
"Yes." She swallowed, "Was it terrifying?"
"No."
"But you were only a boy."
"We both knew loss. It was almost an understanding."
"A bond."
"Truly." He nodded, gazing at her. Unsure if he was longer speaking of his dragon or his betrothed, "She was as much of me as I was her. You shall know."
"And losing the eye?"
"I wish not to talk on the matter." He suddenly slammed the book shut, dropping it down on his chair and standing.
"Aemond..." She called to him, still knelt beside his chair. "Tis okay."
"I wish not to talk about that night!"
"Twas only a question."
"A question which I do not owe an answer."
"Your father was right." She mumbled, sitting in the chair across from his own once more.
He turned to look at her, anger becoming him as she picked at one of the childrens toys that had been absently left in his room.
"You were a fearsome boy."
His facade cracked and he found himself smiling once more, yet this one he couldn't hide. He despised the effect she had on him, the effect she had always had on him. He could feel it taking ahold again.
Aemond thought to himself for a moment, wondering what harm it would do, before he sat upon his chair once more and patted the arm for his bride to sit upon, knowing it would render them endlessly closer than they were before.
The false Velaryon hesitated, but only for a brief moment, before climbing to her feet and seating herself beside him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, loosely, as if unsure of his own actions, yet still his palm fell securely upon her. She watched his eye, waiting for his next move, wondering.
And yet it never came.
Suddenly the doors to Aemond's chamber burst open, Ser Harrold and Ser Cole announced themselves in a heartbeat, and Laenora knew there and then that her Grandfather, her Viserys, was gone. Stolen from her.
"Prince Aemond. Princess Laenora. I am sorry to be of a disturb-"
"My father." Aemond asked, suddenly cold again, "Has he passed?"
"Yes my prince. My condolences."
"You may go." His arm fell away from her.
In an instant the two kings guards had fled the room, but not before Cole gave the princess one last sorrowful look, of pity, sadness, and perhaps even yearning.
"Aemond..."
"Did you not hear what I said?" He grit his teeth
"But my betrothed-"
"Tis the first you've called me." He snapped not meeting her eyes. "Go home Laenora. Return to Dragonstone, where you belong."
"But Aemond-"
"I will send you a Raven." He suddenly stood, slamming his book against her chest. "Leave... Please."
His voice quivered despite his anger, betraying him. And Laenora did what she always had done when it came to Aemond, she left him. Just as she had when she left for Dragonstone.
Tears in her eyes and his book to her heart, she left him. It was not her first bout with loss.
Of Viserys? Yes.
But Aemond Targaryen? No.
And it wouldn't be her last.
***
"I shall miss you my favourite niece." Helaena hugged her ever so tightly, "Sage turns to Coal."
"Oh Helaena." She stroked her cheek, "I wish I could've seen more of you, spoken to you-"
"It does not matter. You were run amuck by my brothers, I know how they can be."
"Where are they?"
"Aegon is still lay by the bucket."
"And Aemond?"
"He said he would send a Raven..."
"Of course." Laenora felt herself tear up before she could even stop herself, she hadn't a reason, but still her body betrayed her. Why?
"I'm sorry for your loss Helaena."
"He is still with us." She spoke, tapping her Niece's head with a gentle touch.
"Do you not mean in our hearts?"
"No. Our dreams." The blonde nodded with a smile.
"Oh sweet girl."
"You must go. Before my mother comes."
"Why?"
"Before my mother comes." Helaena spoke again, giving a soft wave to Rhaenyra who waited idly upon Syrax's saddle.
"I love you dearest Aunt, may safe tidings follow you."
"I shall see you upon the blood moon niece."
"The blood moon?" Laenora asked as she climbed upon her mother's dragon and strapped herself in.
Blood and cheese.
"You know your aunt is a queer woman." Rhaenyra embraced her child.
An heir for an heir.
"I had hardly noticed."
The riot of red keep.