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Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 12

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 8792

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: This is the ending of book 1! Enjoy! Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 This story is now complete!

Aelinor was nearly mad with waiting by the time Aemond returned to her. The door to her chambers was locked from the outside, guarded by a guard who was unmoved for her pleas. With no means of seeking out answers herself, she was forced to sit in the window, watching the dust settle over the Dragonpit and praying to all the gods she could name that Aemond would come back to her. Her tears dried on her face, her throat sore from her sobbing.

The sun was dipping below the horizon when she heard voices outside her door, and then Aemond was pushing through. His hair was messy, a deep frown carved onto his face, but he looked no less worse for wear.

She began to cry anew, throwing herself across the room and into his arms. He barely caught her, her weight throwing both of them against the wall as she sobbed.

“I thought you were dead!” She beat a fist against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “No, Lina. I am not dead. Rhaenys only sought to flee, and no one was harmed.”

Aelinor pulled back slightly. “It was Rhaenys, then. I saw Meleys take flight from the Dragonpit and I feared the worst.”

“Only smallfolk and a small number of guards were injured.” Aemond’s hand stroked down her arm, and yet she did not feel comforted. “She had escaped her chambers, we suspect with aid.

Her chambers. Because like Aelinor, the Princess Rhaenys had been confined to her chambers. A well-treated prisoner. A hostage who was served dessert and treated with courtesies. If Aelinor had gone with Aemond to the coronation, might she have been able to flee as well?

“It is done then?” She asked quietly. “Aegon?”

“Yes,” Aemond nodded, a flicker of pain crossing his face when he stepped away. “My brother wears the Conqueror’s crown, and is lord of the realm.”

For how much longer, Aelinor wondered. Rhaenys would surely head straight for Dragonstone, to alert Rhaenyra and Daemon. If they had not already begun to muster their forces, they would now. What would they think when they learned of what had happened? When they realized Aelinor was still a prisoner in the court of the usurper?

“You’ve grown pale,” Aemond whispered, reaching out to touch her arm.

“Is it any surprise?” She scoffed. “With all I have learned today?”

Aemond took her arm and led her toward the chaise, not releasing his touch until she was seated upon it. Then he took the seat opposite her, allowing her a few moments to collect herself.

“We left things very badly earlier,” Aelinor said. “Before…before you left.”

Gods, to think that only a few hours ago she had been angry at him. That she had internally cursed his family and their entire idiotic plot to steal the throne. That those might have been her last word to Aemond, that he might have died in the Dragonpit while she paced in her chambers cursing his name, it was almost too much to bear.

“You were angry,” Aemond’s tone was gentle, understanding. “I cannot blame you for that. Though I will confess, it was not how I hoped you would react.”

“How else should I have reacted?” Aelinor demanded. “I was dragged from my chambers in the dead of night, made aware of a plot to steal my mother’s birthright, and then informed that I am to be a hostage for peace negotiations in a war that your mother and grandfather have started! Have I missed anything?”

Aemond looked down at his feet. “No. Only that I wish you would not think yourself a hostage. You are my betrothed, Lina. We are to be married. Is there not some part of you that is happier for it?”

Aelinor leaned forward, taking his hands in hers. “Aemond, I was happier for it the moment the King announced it. There is no one in the world I would rather marry than you.”

“But?”

“But…” She sighed. “Our union was meant to bring about peace. Now it is being leveraged against me to prevent a war.”

“And if a war is prevented?” Aemond asked. “What then?”

“What do you expect?” Aelinor asked, voicing the thoughts that had filled her mind since she had been alone. “If your brother retains the throne and my mother relinquishes her claim, I have no doubt that your mother will break the betrothal and seek out a bride more to her liking. And if my mother chooses to fight for her crown, if she storms the Keep and lets Daemon cleave Aegon’s head from his shoulders, then they will kill you as well, no matter how I might protest.”

Aemond’s face grew cold. “You have given this a great deal of thought.”

“I wish to marry you, Aemond.” Aelinor squeezed his hands. “But I do not wish to see the world torn apart.”

Aemond stood suddenly, marching toward the window. “Do you think I want this war? Is that it?”

“No!” She exclaimed. “Why would you ever want that?”

But even as she said it, she found herself doubting her words. Could Aemond let go of his grudge against her brothers so easily? He had promised her, but that promise had been made when they believed they would have years to slowly bring their families together and reconcile their feelings. Now they were heading for a terrifying clash, one that provided the perfect opportunity to spew hatred against her brothers.

Aelinor buried her face in her hands. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. She should have been happy. Everything had been so close to perfect, and now it was all ruined.

“What are we going to do, Aemond?” She whispered.

He did not respond.

There were not many options left open for Aelinor. If she tried to flee, to rejoin her family on Dragonstone, then she would most likely be either killed in the attempt or captured. Then she would be treated as a prisoner should be treated, cast into the dungeons somewhere with Jeyne. If she died, or if her family learned that she had been mistreated, there would be war.

But what was her other option? To remain at court and play the good little princess? If she stood at Aemond’s side as he supported his brother then she would be a traitor to her family. And she was many things, but she was not a liar. She could not swear false oaths and fake loyalty to a man who did not deserve his crown. What could Aemond do in all of this? He was loyal to his brother, and while she did not agree with it, she could understand it. After all, she had forgiven her brothers for their own cruelties against her, and she would have stood at Jace’s side against any who might have threatened his claim. Perhaps even against Aemond. So how could she expect him to do any differently?

And how long would she have to decide? Before Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent marched to her door and demanded that she bend the knee or face the consequences. What would she do then? What would Aemond do if she refused?

“I cannot swear to Aegon,” She said. “I cannot. It would kill me.”

“Then I will not ask you to.” His voice was hard.

“But what will you ask of me?” She asked. “Because I cannot remain locked in this room. People will demand answers.” Perhaps they would not. Perhaps there was no one left in King’s Landing who would question their new king on what prisoners he saw fit to keep.

“You shall not be confined, I will see to that.”

“How?” She demanded. “Talk to me, Aemond, please. You are all I have right now.” Her voice broke as she realized that it was true. There was no one else in this city that she could trust, no one who might look out for her or care about her wellbeing.

Aemond turned from the window, startling when he saw her near tears and rushing to her side. “Please, please don’t cry.”

“I don’t mean to!” She hated to be weak, to be so overcome that she could scarcely speak. But this was the most terrifying thing she had ever experienced in her life, and she could not see the way forward.

“You are my betrothed,” Aemond said. “ My Lina. I don’t care who you are sworn to, or if you bend the knee to my useless brother. You will have a place here. Always.”

“At your side.”

He nodded.

“In your brother’s court.”

His nod was more hesitant this time. “Yes.”

It was barely a solution. She could hardly go around proclaiming Aegon a usurper, and sooner or later someone at court would question her presence and the ambiguity of her loyalty. She would be declared a traitor by her mother’s supporters, and an enemy by Aegon’s. She would be parted from her family, from her brothers and Baela and Rhaena and the little ones, for an indeterminable amount of time .

But she would be with Aemond.

Would that be enough?

She reached out a hand, and Aemond did not hesitate before taking it. He dropped to his knees in front of the chaise, resting their hands in her lap. “You’ll stay?”

Did she have a choice? “I will stay with you, Aemond.” For better or for worse.

His face melted in relief, and he leaned up to capture her lips with his. For a brief moment Aelinor let her eyes flutter closed, let herself forget that the world was crumbling to pieces around them, that the dream she’d had of a perfect future with Aemond was being trampled in the chaos.

Aemond’s hand raised to trace her cheek, brushing softly against her nose. She pulled away slowly, regretting the loss of his touch as soon as she moved.

Aemond lifted their hands, pressing soft kisses to the back of her hands. She could feel the apology behind each touch of his lips. I’m sorry . I didn’t want it to be this way . I’ll protect you .

“So what now?” She tried to give him a small smile. “I suppose going for a ride with Darrax and Vhagar is out of the question.”

It was meant as a joke, but his face darkened.

“What is it?” She asked. “Is Darrax alright?” She cursed her selfishness, realizing that she had not even wondered after her dragon, if he might have been injured in Princess Rhaenys’ escape.

Aemond was shaking his head. “No, no, of course he is alright. I checked on all of the dragons before I returned. It was part of what delayed me.”

Of course it was. Because the Aemond she adored would never have let anything hurt their dragons. “Part of what delayed you?”

He looked down. “My mother — that is, the King has requested that I go as an envoy to Storm’s End.”

“But House Baratheon is sworn to my mother.” Aelinor breathed.

“Yes,” Aemond nodded. “I am to deliver an offer of alliance. Supposedly one that he will not be able to refuse.”

Aelinor could think of no offer that would justify breaking an oath. “What is it?”

“I do not know. I am just to deliver the missive.”

She was sure that her despair showed on her face. Not only was Aemond leaving, but he was walking into almost certain danger. If House Baratheon stayed true to their oath, then Aemond would be a servant of a usurper. They could detain, harm or even kill him. Perhaps turn him over to her mother.

But if Aemond was welcomed, then it meant that her mother had lost the support of a powerful house. And most troubling of all was that Aelinor did not know which outcome she was praying for.

“How long?” She asked weakly.

“Two days.” He said, squeezing her hands tightly. “I will leave on the morrow, and return in two days.”

Two days. Two days alone in this Keep, alone with her thoughts in a den of traitors and snakes.

“Aemond.” She was begging, though she did not know for what.

“I must, Lina.” He implored. “But I will return to you. I swear it.”

She pressed her eyes closed, taking a shaky breath. “You’ve never broken a promise to me.”

“And I never shall.”

Gods curse her for her stupidity, but she believed it. With all the faith and devotion she had held at five years old, Aelinor chose to believe him. She had no other choice.

“Then,” She forced a smile, trying to blink some tears from her eyes. “Let us have dinner together, so that we each have a good memory to tide us over until we see each other next.”

“In the library?” Aemond asked, lifting his hand to brush her tears away.

She shook her head. The library would remind her too strongly of her grandfather, and she did not know how much more sorrow she could bear. “The garden?”

“The garden.” He agreed, standing from the floor. “I shall order our dinner, and return to escort you in an hour. I must…I must change and speak to my mother first.”

Change because his clothes were still speckled with dust from the Dragonpit. Speak to his mother so that she might prepare him to serve as an envoy for Aegon. The world had truly gone mad.

But Aelinor nodded. “I shall await your return.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, looking like he wanted to say more. But whatever he saw in her eyes scared him into silence, and he turned and left.

************************************

Storm’s End was a miserable, damp, hellhole of a castle.

Aemond’s impression of their potential new allies was a bleak one, making him regret all the more that he had agreed to his grandfather’s request. Anyone could have gone to treat with Lord Borros, could have delivered the message that he held clasped in his hand. This was not worth being parted from Aelinor.

The two of them had taken dinner in the garden. Aemond had the servants move the table away from the balcony, knowing that Aelinor would not be cheered if she were looking out at the city and could see the damage to the Dragonpit. Instead they had eaten in one of the interior pavilions, attended by a small army of servants now that they did not have to keep their meeting a secret. He had tried his best to take her mind off things, but he knew that he had been unsuccessful. No amount of lemon cakes or roast chicken could distract her from the loss of her family. They had retired early, and he had left before the sun rose to reach Storm’s End.

And it would be a loss. Despite what Aemond had told her, he knew that peaceful resolution grew less likely by the day. His mother held some fondness for Princess Rhaenyra, but he could not see an outcome in which she, Prince Daemon, or their pack of bastards were allowed to live the rest of their lives in any comfort, if at all. No, he was not about to risk Aelinor’s safety to sue for peace between their families. Instead he would just have to do his best to ensure that she remained on the right side of things, protected by their betrothal.

But it was difficult to protect her when he was in Storm’s End.

The Storm Keep was not impressed when he compared it to the Red Keep. He’d heard the stories, of course, about how the castle had been destroyed by a thousand storms until finally it’s walls were built strong enough to withstand the gales and thrashing waves that rose up the cliff. And it was not the strength of Storm’s End that he doubted. It’s walls were thick, it’s foundation solid, but the entire thing seemed to be little more than a beautifully carved cave, no amount of tapestries or fur able to keep out the damp cold that permeated every inch of the castle.

He had not been greeted upon his arrival. Vhagar had attracted much attention when he set her down just outside the castle walls, but Lord Borros was not there to greet him. Instead he had been met by the two knights who now led him into the castle. It was a sign of disrespect that the brother of the King had not been greeted properly, but Aemond could understand it. Though his brother sat the throne, things would seem less certain elsewhere in the realm. If Lord Borros were smart he would be sure not to commit to either side without considering his moves wisely. That he had not been meant with iron and steel was an indication that there was hope in Aegon’s cause. The Baratheon’s were not so dedicated to their vows that they would kill him on sight.

Two heavy doors swung open, and Aemond stepped into yet another cavernous room. A small crowd had gathered around the throne at the far end, where a large man with a dark beard sat swathed in a cloak of fur. At his side stood four girls with equally dark locks, along with a small retinue of knights and other lords that Aemond did not recognize.

“Prince Aemond!” Lord Borros called. “To what do we owe this visit?”

Aemond supposed he needed no introduction, not when his eye — or lack thereof — made his identity so obvious. “Lord Borros, I come with a message from your King.”

He walked forward, the letter held in his hand.

“And how is your father?” Lord Borros asked, no hint of subtlety in his tone. “Well, I hope.”

“My father is dead,” Aemond announced, noting the titters it set off in the crowd. “I come in service to the one true King, Aegon Targaryen, Second of his name.”

Lord Borros tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Your elder sister still lives, does she not?”

“I believe so.” Aemond stopped a few feet from the foot of the throne.

“And was she not sworn in as his heir?” Lord Borros asked. “Or am I misremembering.”

“My Lord Borros is very astute in his memory,” Aemond smirked. “But we must always do what is best for the realm, must we not?”

Lord Borros nodded.

Aemond held out the letter. “From the King, and my mother the Dowager Queen.”

There was an awkward pause, and then someone shuffled forward from the crowd. Aemond let the maester take the letter from his hand, watching the man climb to Lord Borros’ side before breaking the seal and reading aloud.

“I, Aegon Targaryen, Second of my Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do invite House Baratheon to swear fealty to the Iron Throne and my ascension, as is willed by the gods and my father, King Viserys.”

They had made Aemond fly all the way to Storm’s End to deliver that ? Any knight could have delivered that message.

Still, the declaration seemed to alarm the room. People began to shift where they stood, some eyeing him nervously. He was either the brother of a king or a usurper, but he had nonetheless brought this matter to their doorstep.

“In addition,” the Maester continued, “As an act of good faith, I, King Aegon the second, with the support of the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, to propose a formal alliance be struck between our houses.”

Aemond schooled his features so that none of his confusion showed on his face. A formal alliance? His niece and nephew were still far too young to be wed, though he supposed a betrothal might be enough ‘good faith’ to secure Lord Borros’ support.

“With the consent of Lord Borros, we would seek the betrothal between his eldest unmarried daughter, or whichever daughter he sees fit—”

Something wasn’t right. Aemond started to step forward, but the maester beat him to it.

“And my brother, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

One of the girls next to the throne let out a shocked gasp. Aemond glared at them, realizing that these were Lord Borros’ daughters. They were pretty enough, he supposed, but it did not matter. He was already betrothed to Aelinor, and no Baratheon could hold a candle to her.

“Well then, boy,” Lord Borros seemed to puff up in his chest. “You bring us an offer of marriage.”

Aemond opened his mouth, ready to dispute their claim. His blood seemed to boil as he realized what his family had done. They had sent him as an emissary to make their offer seem more legitimate, all but forcing him into a position in which he had to feign disloyalty to Aelinor in order to support his brother.

There was no way that any of his family expected him to go through with this plan. He was betrothed to Aelinor, and that had been his father’s dying wish, or close to it. It was not a betrothal that could be broken, nor was it one that he had any intention on breaking.

But this situation required a delicate touch.

“Does House Baratheon require bribery to ensure their loyalty?” He asked, trying to force some levity into his tone.

Lord Borros let out a single, hearty guffaw. “Hardly bribery when it is freely given. As it is, my House is so overcome with loyalty that we could never refuse such an offer from the Crown.”

Because who would? Aemond glanced at his daughters again, wondering which of them was the eldest. He would not marry any of them, and from the frightened looks they were casting his way, they did not wish to marry him either. They were no different from the ladies of King’s Landing who trembled any time he cast his eye over them.

“Is this it then, boy?” Lord Borros demanded. “If we pledge allegiance to your brother, swear to him as the King, then you shall marry one of my daughters.”

No . Aemond thought. I shall never marry anyone who is not Lina.

But what was the harm in lying? Once his brother’s claim was secured, they could break the engagement without consequence. If any rebellion had already been suppressed, if Princess Rhaenyra and her family had already submitted, House Baratheon would be forced to set aside their discontentment. Yes, this would work. As soon as Aemond returned to King’s Landing, he would take his mother aside and tell her his plan. They would hold to this false betrothal until such time that they no longer needed House Baratheon, and then they would break it and he would be free to marry Aelinor. Perhaps they would even find some wealthy lord to marry one of the Baratheon girls, as a show of good faith. His mother had likely already thought of this plan, and would support him when the time came.

So Aemond gave a sharp bow of his head. “I shall do as the King wills.”

Lord Borros smiled. “Very well then. To the King!”

*************************************

As forlorn as Aelinor felt without Aemond, she was determined to make a good showing at court. If what Aemond said was true and she was not a prisoner, then she needed to act as a guest. She would not remain in her chamber sulking and hiding as the Hightowers schemed against her family. No, she would not allow them that privacy. If they could move freely through the castle, then so could she.

Still, it took her until nearly midday to work up the courage and prepare herself to leave her rooms. Dressing herself without Jeyne was not a struggle, but she was not skilled enough to manage her hair, so she settled on a simple braid with her dragon hair pin at the crown of her head. Her dress was a plain gown in sleek black velvet, the long sleeves decorated at the elbow by thin silver bands. A mourning gown, for the death of her grandfather, with just enough ornamentation to show her standing.

She was a princess of House Targaryen. The daughter of the rightful queen. And she would not be made to hide.

The guards stood to attention when she opened her door, twin looks of confusion on their faces.

“Princess?”

Aelinor clasped her hands in front of her, the picture of a proper princess. “I am going for a walk. I assume you both will be accompanying me?”

“We…have been told to escort you, Princess.”

They had been told to keep an eye on her, more likely, but she didn’t care. They wouldn’t stop her, and that was what mattered.

She started down the hallway, keeping a brisk but casual pace that kept the guards following just a few steps behind her. The corridors were empty, an uneasy quiet filling the halls as she realized that far too many of the rooms she passed were vacant. Where had their occupants gone? Fled in the chaos? Imprisoned? Or worse?

The thought was one that could have sent her spiraling, so Aelinor once again focused on her goals. She must get her bearings and try to understand what was happening at court. She could not be useful to anyone, not even herself, if she was clueless as to what was going on. As she walked, her second goal would be to find someone who could help her find Jeyne. Not only was it not appropriate for her to not have a chaperone or a maid, but Aelinor did not like to think of any member of her household being treated unkindly. She had hope that Jeyne had simply been reassigned, perhaps told to work in the kitchens until she could be returned to Aelinor’s service. Whatever the answer might be, Aelinor would find it.

As she approached the center of the Keep and the main gathering halls, she slowly found herself surrounded by more and more nobles. They huddled in small groups, many of them with shoulders hunched or red rimmed eyes. Too many of them were wearing mourning black, and more than a few wore Hightower green. All of them turned to look as she passed, with only a few remembering to bow in greeting.

Aelinor did not pretend with niceties as she had when she first arrived, and did not grace them with so much as a nod. They did not deserve it. The frequency of the color green, and the fact that these people were still alive, all but confirmed that they had declared for Aegon. And Aelinor would not treat with oathbreakers.

“Princess.” A voice said from behind her, and she watched as expressions of alarm spread through the crowd.

She turned slowly, keeping a mask of indifference on her face. “Lord Larys.”

The lord in question stood behind her, wearing a black doublet with a dark green undershirt, pinned in place with a small bee-shaped broach. His cane was clasped in both hands, and that same unnerving smile was painted on his face.

“I admit, Princess, I did not expect to see you today.”

“No?” She kept her tone light. “I thought to take a walk. I found my chambers rather…confining.”

“I’m sure,” He hummed, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. “I’m sure you are lonely with Prince Aemond being gone. Perhaps I might offer my company?”

She would rather die. “That is not necessary nor suitable, Lord Larys.” She said quickly. “I would sooner keep company with the ladies of the court, though I do not see as many familiar faces as I would have expected.”

“As you can imagine, recent events have been divisive.” Lord Larys smiled.

“Evidently.” She wanted to turn and walk away, yet she knew that Lord Larys had the ear of the Queen, and as such likely had many of the answers she sought.

A guard walked up to Lord Larys, leaning down to speak in a low tone. “Lord Larys, you are needed in the dungeons.”

“The dungeons?” Aelinor said sharply. “I should not think the dungeons would require the attentions of a lord of your standing.” She spoke loudly, her words setting off an uncomfortable murmur in the gather nobles.

“As it is, we find our cells rather crowded at the moment.” Lord Larys said. “I must excuse myself.”

“You are not excused, Lord Larys.” Aelinor declared. She was a princess, after all, and it would be a grave insult for him to turn his back on her. She saw a muscle tick in Lord Larys’ jaw, and his tongue darted out to lick the corner of his lips.

“I am looking for my maid,” She said. “Her name is Jeyne and I understand she was detained the night of the King’s death. I want her returned to me.”

Lord Larys clicked his tongue. “Then I am afraid I must disappoint you, Princess.”

“I am prepared to go to the Queen,” Aelinor said. “She would not deny me my maid.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that she would not deny you a maid,” He tilted his head. “But alas, your maid, and all that remained of the Princess Rhaenyra’s household, have already been executed as suspected spies.”

A deathly silence fell over the hall.

“Executed?” Aelinor breathed, her chest feeling too tight. “When?”

“Yesterday evening, Princess, on the orders of the Hand.” Lord Larys bowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

This time she did not protest, letting him walk away and leave her in her barely concealed grief.

Yesterday .

While she had been dining with Aemond, worrying over how she was going to miss him and how she would survive the confines of this new court, Otto Hightower had ordered that Jeyne be murdered. Who else? She was ashamed to realize that she did not know the names of the grooms who had remained to care for Darrax, or the tailor and stewards who had remained to help her get settled, before returning to their own families on Dragonstone in the coming weeks. They would never get the chance to return now. Was it her fault? Instead of eating dinner in the gardens and wallowing in her own grief, she should have been demanding their safe return, fighting for them. That was her duty, and she had failed them.

People were dead, and she hadn’t been able to stop it.

And she had a terrible feeling that this was only the beginning.

************************************

Lucerys Velaryon was here.

This complicated things. The boy was soaked to the bone, but kept from shivering as he walked into the hall. Aemond held back, just out of view of his nephew.

After delivering his message, Aemond had been offered a meal, which decorum had forced him to take. He had been preparing to leave, unwilling to spend anymore time away from Aelinor, when word came that Vermax had landed in the courtyard.

Lucerys’ eyes were scanning the crowd, unease clouding his features. No doubt he had seen Vhagar outside the castle, and he would be looking for Aemond to be somewhere within these halls.

“Lord Borros,” Lucerys announced, his voice impressively powerful. “I bring a message from my mother, The Queen.”

Lord Borros let out a huff of amusement. “Yet earlier this day I received an envoy from the King. Which is it, King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Aemond stepped forward, a smirk pulling at his lips when Lucerys’ eyes widened. The bastard had not expected to be beaten in this game of diplomacy, and Aemond wondered whether the boy had the mettle needed to best him.

But Lord Borros’ words were not to be borne. How dare he question the House of the Dragon? It was for exactly that reason that this uncertainty must be squashed as quickly as possible, lest the power of their House be questioned.

Lucerys handed over his missive, and the maester hurried forward to read it. Aemond smirked as Lord Borros scoffed.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” He shook his head. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids, which of my daughters will you marry, boy?”

Lucerys swallowed. “My lord, I am not free to marry. And I am already betrothed.”

“So you come with empty hands?”

“King Aegon is already married,” Lucerys said. “Does he claim to set aside his wife for your daughters?”

Aemond saw what he was trying to do, attempting to sow distrust into their brand new alliance. It was smart, something that Aemond himself would have tried to do.

“The offer is from his brother and envoy, Prince Aemond.” Lord Borros gestured to where Aemond waited. “So you come empty handed, boy.”

Lucerys turned to look at Aemond, confusion coloring his face. Aemond kept his expression neutral.

“This cannot be, My Lord,” Lucerys said hesitantly. “For I know Prince Aemond to be betrothed to my sister, Aelinor Velaryon. Unless…he has broken this engagement?”

Aemond heard the question he did not speak. Where is my sister?

The irritating thing was that Lucerys was right. Aemond could never cast Aelinor aside, but for the sake of his family, he must pretend that he was willing to do so.

So he squared his shoulders and said, “Princess Aelinor is the daughter of a traitor. I do as my King wills.”

Lucerys shook his head incredulously. “Then you are an oathbreaker, and as unworthy of my sister as you ever were.”

He turned back to Lord Borros, offering a polite bow. “I shall take your response to the Queen, my Lord.”

Unworthy .

You are unworthy of my sister .

“Wait, my Lord Strong,” Aemond stepped forward. “Did you really think you could fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost.”

Lucerys tensed. “I will not fight you. I come as a messenger, not as a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said, anger simmering in his blood. “No, I want you to put out your eye.”

There were gasps from those gathered in the hall.

“As payment for mine,” He continued, relishing in how Lucerys backed away. “One will serve. I will not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

“No!” Lucerys shouted.

“Then you are craven as well as traitor.” Aemond ripped off his eye patch, letting the bastard see exactly what he had lived with. “Perhaps I should hold your hand in the fire, as you once did to your sister.”

“Do not speak of my sister!” Lucerys stepped forward with surprising boldness. “You who have never deserved her loyalty, nor her love. Where is she? Is she a prisoner in your Keep? Have you killed her already to make room for your new bride?”

“Give me your eye!” Aemond roared.

“I shall give you nothing!” Lucerys shouted. “I come as an envoy. But know this, Usurper, if Aelinor has come to any harm by your hand, you shall not know peace.”

“Who shall bring that vengeance, bastard?” Aemond seethed. “You? Your brother? You are no match for me.”

“Where is my sister?” Lucerys demanded.

“Your eye!” Aemond reached for his sword.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros ordered. “Someone escort Lucerys Velaryon back to his dragon. I’ll not have bloodshed beneath my roof.”

Lucerys cast one last glare Aemond’s way, before following the guards out of the hall.

Aemond’s chest heaved, his blood boiling with rage. Who was Lucerys to question his love for Aelinor? To suggest that he had hurt her? She stayed in the Red Keep for her own safety, and no matter that his family considered her a hostage, she was still his betrothed.

But that bastard conspired to take his brother’s throne, to take Aelinor away from him.

No, Aemond would not make it that easy for him.

And he followed Lucerys out of the hall.

**************************************

Aelinor was surprised when the guards allowed her to visit Helaena’s chambers. The Queen’s chambers, as they called it, because her husband was now King. It was nearly laughable. When the door was opened and Aelinor saw her aunt sitting on the chaise, a hoop of needlework in her lap and a vacant expression on her face as she watched her children play on the ground, she thought that she had never seen anyone less queen-like than Helaena.

And it was not a slight against her aunt, or at least, she did not think it was. Helaena was a gentle soul, ill-suited for Aegon and the politics of court. She wondered if her aunt had had any idea of the plot to steal her mother’s throne, or if Helaena was just an unwitting passenger in the scheme.

“Aelinor,” Helaena did not look away from her children. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Aelinor looked over her shoulder, waiting until the guards had closed the door behind her. “I am shocked that they will leave me in your company, considering we are apparently enemies.”

“Are we?” Helaena mused. “No one told me.”

“Nor me.” Aelinor went and sat next to her aunt. Leaning over, she studied the embroidery in the hoop. A tangled dark mess, with a single red thread knotted throughout. Not quite messy enough to be a mistake, and yet far too cluttered to be art. But her aunt had never held a particularly clear mind, and these were not easy times.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were playing with wooden blocks on the ground, seemingly unbothered by the tense atmosphere.

“They’re growing well,” Aelinor said. “They take after you.”

“Do they?” Helaena tilted her head. “I hope not.”

That hurt Aelinor’s heart, to think that her aunt might not see that she was a lovely person. She reached across to take Helaena’s hand, but her aunt flinched away. Aelinor tried not to let that sting, remembering how her aunt had never enjoyed being touched.

“I’m so scared, Helaena,” she whispered, knowing that she could trust her aunt to keep her secret. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you think you should do?” Helaena tore her gaze from the children, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

“I’ve no idea,” Aelinor sighed. “Aemond wants me to stay with him, and I do not wish to leave him, but how can I stay here? I…I cannot pretend to be something I’m not. I won’t.”

“Nor should you.” Helaena said. “You are more of your family than you know.”

It took her a moment to decode that statement. “Yes, I have often been told that I have all of my mother’s stubbornness. Perhaps that will serve me well here, give me the strength to stay true to what I know to be right.”

How did Helaena feel, knowing that Aelinor considered her husband to be a usurper? Did it bother her? Sometimes she thought that Helaena existed in a different world entirely, too distracted to be bothered by their family politics, so long as they never touched her.

“You are your father too.” Helaena’s voice was ice cold.

Aelinor froze. “What do you mean?”

“You will see, before the end.” Helaena sighed. “We all will.”

Aelinor was nothing like Prince Daemon. He was cruel, ruthless, the type of man who sowed chaos and blood everywhere he went. She could never be like that.

“You should go,” Helaena said suddenly.

“What?”

“You should go,” Helaena repeated. “It's for the best.”

“Oh, alright.” Aelinor stood, brushing out her skirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow, perhaps?”

Helaena shrugged, picking up her needle and thread. Aelinor took that as a dismissal, and Helaena started humming as she left the room. It was only when she was nearly back to her chambers that she recognized the tune Helana had been humming as one she had heard many years ago, a disturbing verse from her aunt’s lips.

“Blood and bars and iron. Blood and bars and iron.”

****************************

The sun was setting when someone began to pound on her door. She nearly froze in terror, remembering that night only a few days ago when the guards had come to take her away. Had they learned that she went to see Helaena? Had the hand finally ordered that she be thrown in the dungeons, or worse?

“Lina!” A frantic voice came from the other side. “Open the door!”

It was Aemond. She hurried to unlatch the door, and he tumbled inside.

Her first thought was that he looked unwell. His face was paler than normal, a slight tremble to his flesh, and his hair still is disarray as if he had come right from the Dragonpit.

“When did you return?” She asked, grasping his arms. “Was there….everything went alright?”

He didn’t respond. “Come, we must go.”

“Go?” She asked. “What do you mean?”

“Come.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her from the room. Her guards were gone from the hall, and she wondered if he had sent them away.

“Aemond, where are we going?” She asked. “What happened?”

He turned and pressed a finger to her lips. “I beg you, please, please stay quiet. We don’t have long before they realize I’m back.”

Did no one else know he was here? Why was he sneaking around? Aelinor had a million questions, but she did as he asked and refrained from speaking as he led her down the stairs and out into the courtyard. He peered through the door, and once he deemed the coast was clear they hurried toward where is white horse was secured to a pole.

“Where are we going?” Aelinor whispered. “I’m not dressed for—”

“There’s no time,” He insisted, spinning. With an easy motion he grasped her around the waist and lifted her into the front of the saddle, swinging up behind her.

“We can’t just— Her words died in her throat as he kicked the horse into a gallop and she had to grasp the saddle to stay seated. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other holding the reins as the stallion thundered through the open gates and down into the city.

Aelinor was not dressed for a ride. She wore the same black down she had worn all day with a simple hair pin, and now her hair was fluttering around her face as her skirt exposed her lower legs. Though, she supposed there was no cause to be outraged. They did not pass any guards as they passed into the city, and then they moved so fast that the smallfolk they passed seemed little more than a blur.

Aemond’s hand kept an iron grip on her waist, and she let herself settle back even as unease crept through her. She was certain that she was not supposed to leave the Keep, which meant that Aemond was purposefully doing something forbidden. Why? And had he only just returned from Storm’s End? Surely he should have gone first to the King and to his mother, but instead he had come to her.

They rode for what felt like an hour before they began to climb the hill to the Dragonpit. Aelinor’s mouth dropped open as they passed mounts of crumbled stone, some of them still stained with blood. The broken bodies of the dead had already been cleared away. Aemond pulled his horse to a heel at what had once been the gates, jumping to the ground and pulling her down nearly as quickly.

“Aemond, what are we…”

“Prince Aemond,” One of the Dragonkeepers appeared. “He is ready.”

“Good.” Aemond tossed a small purse to the man, who slunk back into the shadows without a word.

“Did you just bribe him?” Aelinor demanded. “Aemond, what is happening?”

It was growing dark now, dark shadows cutting across his face. “You’re leaving.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You need to leave,” He repeated. “They have readied Darrax. If you leave now no one will be able to catch you before you make it to Dragonstone.”

She shook her head, even as hope fluttered in her veins. “What do you mean? Not two days ago you were insisting that I stay with you.”

“Things have changed,” He said. “Things are…I think things will get worse. I will not have you here when that happens.”

Understanding dawned on her. Lord Borros had not agreed to Aegon’s demands. This was fear, terror as he realized that his brother would not be able to keep the throne.

Aelinor should have been happy. She did not wish for Aegon’s campaign to be successful. But Aemond…he was clearly terrified.

“I shall go to my family,” She said quickly. “I shall speak for you. We shall have peace, Aemond, I know it.” Her mother was far more rational than the Hightowers, and she could sway Daemon into cooperation. There need not be bloodshed.

Aemond shook his head. “You…you need to go, before it’s too late.”

Aelinor realized that he thought he was saying goodbye to her, perhaps for ever. She could not believe that it was true, and yet she had to acknowledge that things seemed terribly uncertain.

She lifted her hands to cup his face, “Aemond.”

“Please,” His voice broke. “You must go. Before…”

Before? Before what?

“Aemond Targaryen,” She forced her voice to be strong. “This is not the end for us. I have loved you all my life, and I will see you again. I swear it.”

A strangled sound escaped his throat. One of his hands dug around in his tunic, removing a small velvet bag. With shaking hands, he held it out to her.

“What is this?” She asked, taking it from him.

He glanced around. “It…it’s for you. Please…”

She wasn’t sure if he was asking her to hurry, or what he might be asking. But she carefully undid the strings, turning the back over her palm.

A small pendant slid into her hand. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but when she lifted it she could see that it was a small blue gem set in gold, a spiderweb-thin gold chain hanging from it.

“Oh Aemond,” She gasped. “It’s beautiful. Is it…” She gasped loudly as she recognized the gem.

“My…it’s my sapphire!” She gasped. “Your eye?”

He swallowed. “When they cut it to fit my eye, I had them keep that piece. I had it made for you years ago, and I was just waiting to give it to you at the right moment. But now I…”

Now he did not think that there ever would be a right moment. No, Aelinor could not let that stand.

She lifted the pendant over her head, the chain long enough that the sapphire slipped under the front of her dress, coming to rest between her breasts. “Thank you, Aemond.”

But he was shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“We will have more time.” She promised, wrapping her arms around him. “Won’t we?”

He didn’t answer.

A familiar screech sounded from the Dragonpit, and she smiled as Darrax crawled forward. His dark scales glistened in the fading light, and he let out a soft coo when he saw her.

“Aemond?” She turned to him, still waiting on his answer.

He surged forward, pulling her tightly to his chest and kissing her with furious energy. Aelinor didn’t care that they were in public, that any of the dragon keepers might see them. She just melted into him, dimly aware of tears sliding down both of their faces. She could have stayed that way for an eternity, happily starved of oxygen if it meant that they need not be parted.

But Aemond pulled away, his hands tracing over her face. “You need to go. Please.”

She nodded shakily. “Alright, I’ll go.”

With more strength than she thought she had, she tore herself away. Darrax chirped when she grew near, dutifully dipping his shoulder for her to climb into the saddle. It was not easy in her gown, but she managed to settle herself and secure the straps around her thighs. Once she had the reins in her hand, she turned to look at Aemond.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” She asked.

Aemond gave a jerky nod. “Of course.”

“Good.” Her throat grew tight. “I’ll miss you.”

He pressed his eyes closed, nodding again. “I shall miss you as well.”

If she didn’t leave now, she wasn’t sure that she would ever find the strength. “Goodbye, Aemond.”

“Goodbye, Lina.” He stepped back, giving Darrax room to spread his wings.

Aelinor opened her mouth, the words catching in her throat. She took a deep breath. “Darrax, Soves! ”

With a loud screech, Darrax lunged forward, diving off the side of the hills. For a few terrifying moments she was in freefall, and then his wings caught the wind and carried them toward the sky.

*******************************

Dawn was breaking when she sighed Dragonstone. They had flown through the night, Darrax having to work twice as hard to avoid the harsh winds sweeping the coast. She suspected that they had missed the worst of the storm, yet her fingers were still frozen by the time she saw land.

Screams rose from the island as she circled low, aiming for the courtyard. Guards piled into the small space, narrowly avoiding being crushed by Darrax as they landed.

“State your purpose!” Someone yelled. Swords were drawn, reminding Aelinor that this was not a happy homecoming.

“I am Princess Aelinor Velaryon!” She shouted, dismounting as gracefully as she could. “Take me to the Queen!”

She had never thought that she would be so happy to see Dragonstone, but to see the halls filled with familiar faces, to know that she was not about to be arrested or murdered was enough to have her fighting back a grin.

She was escorted the the Great Hall, surprised to find it filled with people.

“Princess Aelinor Velaryon!” Someone announced.

Aelinor stepped forward, scanning the faces. Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena. No Jace or Luc. At the head of the table, her mother sat in a chair with Prince Daemon by her side.

Not forgetting the new order of things, Aelinor dipped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

“Come from King’s Landing?” Prince Daemon asked.

There was a heavy feeling in the air, one that made Aelinor wish to curl up into herself.

“Yes, I flew through the night.” Aelinor said, turning to Princess Rhaenys. “I was glad to hear of your escape, Princess.”

“And I am surprised to learn of yours,” Princess Rhaenys said.

“I had assistance.” Aelinor said, deciding not to betray that it was Aemond who had helped her.

Disliking the atmosphere, Aelinor stepped around the stone table, making her toward her mother.

“Mother?” Rhaenyra did not rise to greet her, her face pale and stricken.

Aelinor cast a glare at the crowd, and most of them averted her eyes. She knelt next to her mother’s chair. The gold crown on her head sat low on her brow, and there were salt marks down her cheeks.

With a start, Aelinor realized that she was no longer pregnant. “The babe?” She asked quietly, her voice breaking.

Rhaenyra shook her head. “No. She is gone.”

She. Aelinor had lost a sister.

She reached for her mother’s hand, and Rhaenyra took it, giving her daughter’s hand a squeeze. “I have missed you, Mother.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together, as if she were trying for a smile and failing. Something was wrong.

Aelinor looked around, noting the absences from the table. “Where are Jace and Luc?”

“Jacaerys flies North,” her father said, “ To summon the banners to your mother’s cause.”

Jace was well-suited to diplomacy, and Aelinor had no doubt that he would do well. “And Luc?”

Rhaenyra made a broken sound, and Aelinor felt her stomach drop. “What is it?”

Prince Daemon’s fingers tightened over the hilt of his sword. “Prince Lucerys was sent as an envoy to Storm’s End.”

Aelinor was going to be sick.

“And word reached us before we fished his remains out of the sea.” Prince Daemon finished.

“No,” Aelinor breathed. “No, it cannot be.”

“Lucerys is dead,” Rhaenyra choked out. “Murdered.”

“Murdered.” Aelinor shook her head. “This is not possible.”

She rose shakily to her feat, feeling as though the world was falling out from under her.

“Don’t forget the most important part,” Prince Daemon leveled his gaze at Aelinor, and she knew what he was going to say even before he spoke. “His murderer, the one who they say hunted him through the halls and pursued him into a storm.”

“Please, no.” Aelinor begged.

“Your brother was killed by Aemond Targaryen.”

Aelinor’s world shattered.

#hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #game of thrones #lady of the ashes #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #aemond x oc

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incandescentlysomething · 16 days

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 11

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 6881

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Only one chapter left!!!! Let me know what you think Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

The Small Council Chamber

“What of Rhaenyra?”

“The former heir cannot, of course, be allowed to remain free and draw support to her claim.” Otto said.

“You mean to imprison her.” Alicent felt as though her mind was moving through a fog. Hours ago her husband had been alive, and now she was being made aware of plots that she had never known existed.

“She and her family will be given the opportunity to bend the knee and swear obeisance to the new King.” Otto replied.

Aelicent shook her head in disbelief. “She will never bend the knee, which you know. Nor will Daemon.” At her father’s unflinching stare, she sighed. “You mean to kill them. And all here accede to this?”

Lord Orwyle spoke up, his voice grating Alicent’s nerves. “Your father is correct, Your Grace. A living challenger invites battle and bloodshed. And there is Daemon to consider, we—”

“The King would not wish for the death of his daughter!” Alicent cried. “He loved her and I will not have you deny this.”

Things were spiraling so quickly out of control. Alicent had never made plans, had never truly imagined what it would mean for her to support her son’s ascension, but she had not prepared herself for this. The King’s body was not yet cold.

“Time is of the essence,” Otto was saying. “Ser Westerling, take your knights to Dragonstone, be quick and clean.”

Alicent stared in shock as Ser Harrald walked away from the table, refusing to obey until his orders came from the king himself.

She walked from the room as the council was dissolved, heading directly for her son’s chambers. She needed to speak to him, needed to ensure that he saw sense before her father led them down a path of madness. Before her children were—

Her children .

Aemond .

She turned quickly to one of the guards at her side, a Kingsguard who’s name she could not be bothered to remember.

“My father was moving to secure the Keep, yes?” She asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” He confirmed. “No one shall enter or leave the Keep without swearing fealty.”

Alicent knew what that meant. She could already hear the echo of footsteps down the stairs as servants and courtiers alike were roused from their sleep and taken to either the cells in the dungeons or to kneel before the Iron Throne.

She needed to gain control of this situation, which meant that she needed to ensure that all of her children would cooperate and stand by her. And there was one person in the Keep who could derail all of that.

“Take another guard and go secure the Princess Aelinor.” She ordered. “Quickly and quietly.”

“Secure her, Your Grace?” The knight asked.

Alicent dug her fingernails into her palm. If Aelinor remained where she was, Aemond would go to her. Though she did not doubt her son’s loyalty, she doubted her ability to draw his focus away from Rhaenyra’s daughter. Aelinor would have to serve as leverage in this, whether she liked it or not.

And besides, Alicent thought, this was a mercy. Better she be responsible for Aelinor than her father, who would likely have her confined to the cells.

“The empty rooms in the east tower.” Alicent directed. “Lock the outside, and tell no one she is there.”

“And if she resists, Your Grace?”

“The Princess is to be moved to that tower. Do whatever it takes.”

The knight hesitated only a second before bowing his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.” He marched away, another guard at his heels.

*************************************

Aelinor was jolted awake by the sound of someone pounding on her door. For a moment she was seized by fear, unable to remember where she was or what was happening. It was disorienting to hear a commotion not immediately followed by the sound of her brother’s arguing, or Prince Daemon shouting about something.

But then she remembered where she was, at the Red Keep, and she quickly pulled herself from bed. Unable to find her robe without a light, and unwilling to take the time to light a candle, she moved from her bedchamber in just her loose nightdress. The main door to her chambers was shaking with the force of the pounding.

“Jeyne?” She called worriedly, moving through the dark room. “Is that you?”

What a silly question. Of course Jeyne was not the one about to break down her door, especially not at this hour, when she could not even yet see the sun rising over the horizon. But worry flooded through her. Something terrible must have happened, and immediately she wondered if something had gone wrong with her mother’s ship, or perhaps even with the King.

She undid the bolt on the door with shaking hands, jumping back as it was thrown open. Two unfamiliar Kingsguard stood before her.

“Sers,” She greeted, resisting the urge to cover her nightgown with her hands. “Has something happened?”

“Princess Aelinor,” One of them said. “We have been sent to escort you to the east tower. For your safety.”

“For my safety?” She asked. “What’s wrong? Are we under attack?”

“Now, Princess.”

She balked at the coldness of his tone. Never in her life could she remember a guard speaking to her in that way. Perhaps the situation was more serious than she realized.

“Let me just grab my robe,” She turned.

A hand wrapped around her upper arm, yanking her into the hallway with painful force.

“Ser!” She cried, trying to pry his fingers off. “What are you—How dare you?”

The other guard grabbed her other arm, his grip only a touch less painful, and they started to march her down the hallway.

“Stop this at once!” She demanded, struggling to free herself. “What is going on? I’m only in my nightdress and this is not proper!”

They did not answer, dragging her forward until her feet were tripping over each other and she was struggling to stay upright.

Emerging out onto the main stairwell, they all stopped in their tracks, the guards looking both ways as if to be sure that no one would see them. Once they determined the way to be clear, they pulled her toward the stairs and started moving up.

Aelinor glanced down, and her blood ran cold at what she saw.

Dozens of people, some servants, some nobles, all of them in their night clothes, being marched down the stairs under armed guard. Their faces showed the same confusion and fear that Aelinor felt.

Something was very, very wrong.

Aelinor opened her mouth to scream. “Help m—”

A metal gauntlet clapped itself over her mouth before she could be heard, the force enough to leave a bruise on her face. She struggled as the guards lifted her off the floor, carrying her up the steps two at a time.

They climbed for what felt like an eternity, Aelinor’s resistance only serving to earn her more bruises as they tightened their grip. Moving into the East wing, they climbed again, until they were passing stone hallways lined with cobwebs and dust. Aelinor could not recall ever coming to this part of the Keep, and from the looks of things, no one else ever visited either.

Only when they reached the end of the staircase did they stop, one of the guards releasing his hold as he pulled a rusty iron key from his belt and pushed open a heavy door. It unleashed a cloud of dust that made him cough, but then he stepped into the room and held the door open. She was dragged through, kicking and screaming.

“Let me go!” She shouted. Gods, was there anyone around who might hear her? Who might be able to tell her what was happening, and why?

The guard marched her to the far side of the room, and then without ceremony tossed her down onto an ancient velvet settee. The plume of dust it let off was enough to make Aelinor choke, and by the time she realized she was free the guards were already shutting the door behind them.

With a cry she threw herself across the room, her fists landing on the door just as she heard the telltale sound of a lock clicking into place.

“There has been a mistake!” She screamed. “Let me go!”

Their footsteps were fading, and soon she knew that she was alone.

Her entire body shaking, Aelinor turned to examine the room. It was small, as small as her own bedchamber. The entire room was coated with a layer of filth, the only disturbances in the dust from the guards, herself, and some small footprints that looked alarmingly like rats. A chandelier heavy with cobwebs hung from the ceiling, the wax melted down the sides of the dull brass. As it was, even if she did have candles, she had no way to light it. The settee was the only furniture in the room, obviously left behind whenever the last resident moved out. It was worn, the upholstery torn and clumps of the stuffing spilling out from the seams.

She rushed to the window, through which a chilly morning breeze swept into the room. There were no curtains or shutters to keep out the cold. When she leaned over the stone, she peered down and stared directly down into the city. The buildings were tiny specs below her, the people practically invisible. Leaning more, she saw that there were no balconies below her, and thus no hope that anyone would spot her in the window.

She was trembling now. She had been locked away, perhaps to be forgotten, and her family was miles away on Dragonstone, completely unaware of what was happening. Even she didn’t understand why this was happening to her.

Something scuttled by in the corner of the room, and she screamed.

Rushing back to the door, she started to bang her palms against it.

“Hello? Is anyone out there?” She screamed. “I need to speak with Prince Aemond! Hello?”

But no one answered.

****************************

Aemond was roused early from his bed and escorted under guard to his brother’s chambers. There he found his sister and his niece and nephew, but no sign of his brother. It was hardly a surprise to find his brother missing, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock of learning that his father was dead.

The King was dead.

It wasn’t that Aemond had ever felt particularly close to his father, who had been old and somewhat frail by the time Aemond was old enough to be interesting. But it was still his father, and Aelinor’s grandfather, and a man who had been a pillar in their family for as long as any of them could remember.

Had someone told Aelinor? She would be devastated, he was sure, for she loved her grandfather dearly. Even he felt a smidgeon of grief, though it was spurred mostly by gratitude to his father for announcing their betrothal only two days before he passed.

He leaned out the window. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and he watched as some guards hurried to lock the main gates to the Keep.

Understanding dawned on him. Perhaps some of his rationality had been veiled behind sleep or the daze of his day with Aelinor, but now things began to make a bit more sense.

The King was dead.

Princess Rhaenyra was on Dragonstone.

Which meant the Iron Throne sat empty for the taking.

Almost as soon as he realized this, the door the the chamber was opening and his mother and Ser Criston were walking in.

“Where is Aegon?” Alicent demanded.

Helaena looked up from her embroidery. “Not here.”

Alicent sent Ser Criston out to confirm whether Aegon was within the castle, and she began to pace back and forth.

“Mother?” Aemond asked quietly, speaking low as to not disturb his sister. “Is Aegon to sit the throne?”

Alicent stared at him for a long moment, before nodding. “It was your father’s dying wish.”

Aemond didn’t much care what his father’s dying wish was. It had never been a secret that their entire family did not wish to see the throne pass to Rhaenyra and her pack of bastards, and as far as Aemond was aware, that had never changed.

“Has Aelinor been informed?”

Alicent looked away. “Do you have any idea where your brother is?”

Aegon shook his head, frowning at the change in subject. “I have not seen him since the day before yesterday. Mother, has Aelinor been informed?”

But Ser Criston was striding through the door. “Prince Aegon is not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace, Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him. And Ser Erryk knows Aegon, so he has the advantage.”

His mother’s hands were shaking. “Then I trust to you, Ser Criston. Aegon must be found, and he must be brought to me. The fate of the Seven Kingdoms may very well depend on it.”

Ser Criston bowed. “I will not fail you, my Queen.”

There was shouting from outside, and Aemond watched as an unfamiliar lord was hauled off of his horse before reaching the gates. The Keep was being put under lock and key.

He walked past his mother. “I shall go see to Aelinor.”

“No, Aemond!” His mother demanded. “You shall not.”

He turned slowly. “She is my betrothed.”

“She is the daughter of a false heir,” Alicent took a deep breath. “And so she is, at this moment, an enemy.”

“An enemy?” Aemond hissed. “What have you done to her?”

“Aemond, I—”

But he was already rushing from the room, hurrying through the Keep and dodging scuffles and whispered conversations as he went. This was madness. Aelinor was not an enemy, and his mother was a fool if she thought she could ever convince him of that. And she would be even more foolish to harm Aelinor, knowing the wrath she would face from her parents.

But when he reached Aelinor’s chambers, the door hung ajar, and she was nowhere to be found.

With a frustrated cry, Aemond turned on his heel and marched back to his family. His mother still stood in the center of the room, trying to make a plan with Ser Criston.

“Where is she?” He demanded, interrupting their conversation.

“Aemond,” Alicent began calmly. “Aelinor has not been harmed, and she—”

“Where is she!” He shouted, the volume making his sister flinch. “Where have they taken her? To the dungeons? She isn’t a traitor!”

“She is the daughter of a potential threat,” Ser Criston said. “Securing her was necessary.”

“Securing her?” Aemond demanded. “I swear, if you—”

“Aemond!” Alicent reached for his arm, but he recoiled from her touch. Hurt shone on her face. “I swear to you, Aelinor has not been harmed. But her safety depends on us being able to quickly secure Aegon’s place on the throne. This means we must find him, quickly.”

His face must have shown his reluctance, for she continued.

“Once Aegon has been crowned, and with Aelinor in our custody and treated with kindness, Princess Rhaenyra will have no reason not to bend the knee.” Alicent implored. “We must use reason in determining our priorities.”

Aemond did see some logic in this. If Aegon was not found, if things were allowed to descend into chaos, then Aelinor would become an incredibly valuable pawn. And not all parties would treat her as well as they would.

“Where is she?” He asked again.

“Safe.” Alicent repeated. “And once Aegon is found, you can see her.”

Frustration grated at his bones, but he finally nodded. “Alright. Then I will go with Ser Criston. Ser Erryk is not the only one who knows Aegon’s haunts.”

******************************

“You’ve been here before, My Prince?”

Ser Criston’s voice was grating, making Aemond wish that he had insisted on coming alone. His tone was full of judgement, matching the look of scorn he had been wearing since they entered the Street of Silk.

Aemond glanced up at the pleasure house, watching as two whores shook out a blanket through a window, not hiding their open curiosity. Even with his cloak and the rags Criston was wearing, they would draw attention if they took too long.

Criston knocked on the door again.

“Aegon brought me to the Street of Silk on my thirteenth name day.” Aemond started, not sure why he felt the urge to share this story with Ser Criston. “It was his duty as my brother, he said, to ensure I was as educated as I was. At least, that’s what I understood him to mean.”

“I don’t follow.” Ser Criston said, far too moral to catch the innuendo.

Aemond leaned forward. “He said, ‘time to get it wet’.”

That night was very clear in Aemond’s memory. It had been less than a year after he lost his eye, after he claimed Vhagar. He had thrown himself into training, determined to become the best dragon rider in his family, and Aegon had been making what he now realized was a genuine effort to bond with him. It was not Aegon’s fault that his interests lay more in perversions and drink where Aemond cared only for dragons and training. But he had gone with his brother, not aware of where he was being taken.

The whore that Aemond had hired for him had been at least ten years older than him, and when she had stepped forward clad in nearly invisible blue chiffon, Aemond had wanted to run for the hills. She had been blonde, nearly light enough in color to be white, and he had known why Aegon had selected her.

He felt some shame as he remembered that moment when he had looked at that woman and imagined that she could be Aelinor. He was thirteen, a young man with a young man’s passions, and unable to exercise the restraint needed to understand why he was so drawn to that whore.

He had done it, of course, and it was not the only time. He was not so stubborn as to rebuke the pleasures of the flesh, especially when those at court so frequently turned their backs on him. But he had never been able to let himself go in the same ways Aegon did. He went to the Street of Silk for momentary distractions, not for any true satisfaction. Eventually he had grown enough that he no longer required Aegon’s escort, and that brief attempt at brotherly bonding had resulted in no change to their relationship.

The sting of shame made him tense as the door opened. What would Aelinor think if she knew that he had been here before, that he had once fucked a woman just because she reminded him of her.

He shook his head, forcing those thoughts from his mind. They had far bigger things to worry about at the moment. He needed to be focused on finding Aegon so that he could be reunited with Aelinor.

They’d watched the guards hang a man on their way out of the Keep, and he did not like the thought of Aelinor alone and unprotected as his grandfather staged his coup.

The woman who answered the door — the madam of the establishment, if he was remembering correctly — had not seen Aegon in some time. Her words about Aegon’s tastes confirmed the rumors that Aemond had been hearing for years, and ultimately only served to tell him that it would not be so easy to track down his brother.

The madam eyed him, and he saw recognition in her gaze. He could dimly remember her being there on that night several years ago, leading him down a smoke-filled hallway to a private room, whispering promises that she had selected only the best for him.

“How you’ve grown,” Her lips curled in amusement.

Aemond nearly smiled at her audacity. He was not the same boy he had been when he first visited this place, and he was no longer one to succumb to temptation.

“It seems you were mistaken as to Aegon’s habits,” Criston said as they walked away.

Aemond just sighed. King’s Landing was the biggest city in Westeros, and there were a thousand places for Aegon to disappear to. “He could be in the hands of mercenaries, on a ship to Yi Ti.”

“He could be dead,” Ser Criston said sternly. “Let us hope, for your mother’s sake, that is not the case.”

They spent hours combing the city, checking every house on the Street of Silk before venturing to inns and taverns that dotted Fleabottom. Hardly places that a prince should be hiding, let alone a king.

“We shall find him, Prince Aemond,” Ser Criston tried to calm him when he kicked at a sack of straw.

Aemond was deeply frustrated. Every second that his brother was gone was a second that he was parted from Aelinor. Aegon did not deserve the throne, he did not know what it was to do one’s duty, to value lineage and ancestry and protect those that he loved. He treated his marriage to Helaena like a joke, belittling and insulting their sister at every turn. How could he expect to be protector of the realm if he did not even have the good sense to stay out of trouble.

“Here I am, trawling the city, ever the good soldier in search of a wastrel who’s never taken half an interest in his birthright,” He glared at Ser Criston. “‘Tis I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy, it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should be…” He caught himself before he spoke the treason on his tongue. “I know what it is to toil for what others are freely given.”

“Prince Aegon is not clever,” Ser Criston said. “If he is still unfound, it is because he has been taken, or waylaid somewhere by his drink. If we must turn over every stone in this city, we shall find him.”

“Hmmm,” And how long would that be? Aemond’s patience was wearing thin. “His secrets are his own and he is welcome to them. I’m next in line to the throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found.”

An image flashed through his mind, a fantasy so vivid and enthralling that Aemond stopped in his tracks. Himself, seated on the Iron Throne, Aelinor by his side, a bright smile on his face. The crown was his, the result of a lifetime of devotion to his family. And below them, their families celebrating their ascension, Aelinor’s great hope was realized as they ceased their fighting. At his feet, Jacaerys and Lucerys knelt, finally bowed in humility.

Aemond as King, with Aelinor as his Queen .

But that was an impossibility. Aegon would sit the throne, as soon as he was found, and neither of their families would set aside their differences in his name.

No, he was the second son, after all. It was his job to find the king, not to be crowned himself.

********************************

Aelinor was not sure how many hours she had been confined to this chamber. The sun had moved through the sky, passing high noon and dipping into the afternoon, and yet it did nothing to ease the chill. She sat in the corner, unwilling to touch the filthy chaise, her arms hugged tightly around her knees. Her nightdress was thin, nearly transparent, and did little to keep her warm. Parts of it were stained with blood after she had torn loose two fingernails trying to claw one of the hinges from the door.

Part of her hoped that this was all a grave misunderstanding. Soon someone would be coming to free her, to apologize for her treatment and assure her that it would never happen again. But with every hour that passed without someone rescuing her — without Aemond coming for her — the sense that something was horribly wrong grew worse.

She heard rats scuttle on the other side of the room, the pests fleeing only a moment before she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Aelinor leapt to her feet, hearing indiscernible voices and the fumbling of keys.

When the door swung open and she saw Aemond standing there, she nearly wept. He wore an unfamiliar black cloak, his hair ruffled as if he had recently been in a fight.

“Aemond!” She cried, launching herself into his arms, ignoring the two guards at his back. The same two who had locked her up in the dead of night.

“Lina,” He breathed, pulling away to look at her. “What are you—how long have you been here?”

“She was escorted here shortly after the King’s death, Prince Aemond.” One of the guards said.

Aelinor’s breath froze in her lungs. “The King…he is dead?”

“He passed in the night,” Aemond whispered.

A tiny sound escaped her throat, and she shivered violent. Gods, her sweet grandfather, he was gone. She could only pray that it had been peaceful, that he had not suffered as he left this world.

“Why are you in your nightdress?” Aemond asked.

Aelinor crossed her arms in front of her chest, suddenly very aware of just how undressed she was. “I…they woke me from my bed in the night.”

Aemond turned to glare at the guards. “These men did?”

The guards both bowed, not in apology to her, but in deference to Aemond. “It was the Queen’s orders, My Prince.”

Aemond stepped forward, his hand reaching for his sword. As much as Aelinor wanted to see the guards answer for how they had treated her, she did not want to be the cause of violence. She grabbed his arm. “Aemond, I want to leave.”

Aemond turned quickly, removing the cloak from his own shoulders and draping it over her. “Come, we must get you warm and fed.”

She let him wrap an arm around her waist and lead her from the room. Her bare feet were cold against the stone, but she did not complain, all too aware of the guards at their backs.

“Aemond,” She whispered. “What did they mean, it’s the Queen’s orders? And why were they moving people in the middle of the night? What is happening?”

He just squeezed her. “I shall explain, but we must get you to my rooms.”

“I must return to my rooms,” Aelinor shook her head, unable to imagine the scandal if she were caught in Prince Aemond’s chambers. “I must find Jeyne. She is probably so worried.”

“Jeyne?”

“My maid.”

“All servants have been secured in the dungeons, My Prince.” One of the guards said, clearly thinking that he was being helpful.

“The dungeons!” Aelinor exclaimed. “Aemond, what—”

“I have been told to take you to my chambers,” He said. “I will explain there, Lina. I promise.”

Whatever explanation he intended to offer, it was not one that he wished for others to hear. Aelinor relented, following him through nearly empty corridors until they reached his chamber. At the door Aemond turned and ordered the guards to send someone for her clothes and a meal.

Once the door had closed behind him, Aelinor turned. “Aemond, what is happening?”

“First we must tend to you,” He stepped forward, opening the curtains and casting light on his surprisingly sparse room. A desk piled high with books, a neatly made bed, and some tapestries showing the mountains of Old Valyria.

He lifted her hands first, frowning at her bloodied fingernails, before moving to her face. His fingers traced her jaw, a look of rage clouding his eyes at what he saw there. “Did they strike you?”

“What? No. They…” The events of that morning seemed an eternity ago. “They were covering my mouth.”

That did not seem to alleviate his anger. “My mother assured me that she directed that you be treated well. They will answer for this.”

“Aemond, what do you mean your mother ordered this?” She pulled away, letting him keep her hands in his. “Is my grandfather truly dead?”

He nodded solemnly. “He is. I am sorry, Lina. I know you cared for him deeply.”

She did, and she would grieve greatly in the coming days. But her grandfather’s health had been a constant pain to him, and she was sure that every day was an agony for him. He was a great man, but perhaps this could be a mercy.

She nodded slowly, swallowing down her tears. “And when will my mother arrive?”

Aemond didn’t answer.

Aelinor pulled away and paced to the window. “Gods, this will not be good for her. With the babe, and she has only just returned to Dragonstone. There will be so much to do, and she—”

“Aelinor.”

“Yes?”

She could not identify the expression on Aemond’s face as he studied her. “Your mother has not been sent for.”

“What cause for delay could there be?” She gasped. “I understand the Queen will wish to mourn, but she must—”

Aemond just shook his head.

She felt terror like she had never known flood her veins as she realized what he meant. Rhaenyra, the rightful Queen, had not been summoned. She had been dragged from her bed in the night. People were being imprisoned in the dungeons.

“Who has done this?” She breathed.

Aemond ignored her question. “The rightful heir will be crowned by the end of the day.”

“The rightful heir?” She demanded. “Surely you do not mean Aegon? My mother is the named heir. All of the houses of the realm swore fealty to her!”

“Aegon is the King’s eldest male heir, and the crown will pass to him.”

“Aemond!” He sounded like he was echoing his grandfather. “You cannot mean this! What will happen to my family? What will happen to us? Gods…” She held a hand to her mouth. “We’ll all be killed.”

“No, No!” Aemond stepped forward, reaching for her hands but she flinched away. “Lina, I will not let this happen. Don’t you see, this is a good thing.”

“A good thing? How could this ever be good?”

He reached for her again, his fingers grasping the edge of the cloak she wore. “If your mother were ground it would throw the realm into turmoil. A Queen has never sat the throne, and there is the question of Jacaerys as her heir. Aegon succession is less likely to be contested, and he already has an heir.”

Aelinor though of those two little children, and just shook her head. “You expect my mother, my father to just lay down their arms and accept this? The other houses.”

“They will,” Aemond insisted. “Because we have you.”

Aelinor’s breath shuttered. “I am a hostage.”

“No, you are to be my wife.” Aemond promised. “But your family will not risk war while you are here, and it can all be resolved peacefully.”

Aelinor just stared at him. “I know you do not believe that.”

He did not deny it.

Aelinor turned from him, going to lean on the windowsill. How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? Her family would suffer for this, and he was pretending that there could be a peaceful resolution. When she knew that both he and his brother would celebrate her family’s fall.

A choked sob escaped her, and she bent over, her head in her hands.

“Lina,” Aemond’s hands were at her back. “I swore to protect you, and I will not break this promise. You must trust me.”

“How can I?” She sobbed. “How can I trust anyone after this?”

“You must.” A voice from the doorway startled both of them, and they turned to find Queen Alicent standing there in a dress of deep emerald. Aelinor thought the Queen looked exhausted, and yet she felt loathing like she had never known rise up in the back of her throat.

“Usurper!” Aelinor cried. “How could you do this? You were once friends with my mother, were you not?”

Alicent glanced down at the floor. “Aemond, I must speak with the Princess. Alone.”

“Mother, I do not—”

“Just go.” Aelinor said, straightening as the Queen approached. “Just go.”

Aemond gave her a look of regret, but he obeyed, closing the door behind him as he left.

“I am sorry that things have transpired this way, Princess.” The Queen said.

“No, you are not.” Aelinor shook her head. “Your son ends up on the throne.”

“It may be difficult to believe, but it was my husband’s dying wish to see Aegon succeed him.”

“Your husband, who broke tradition to install my mother as heir and never once wavered?” Aelinor demanded. “How dare you invoke his name for your lies. For your treachery.”

“You shall be treated kindly, Princess and I—”

“Kindly! I was dragged from my bed in the night and treated with anything but kindness. And now Aemond says you mean to use me as leverage against my family.”

Alicent sighed. “It is necessary.”

Aelinor was disgusted. “You all have fallen into madness.”

She was alone here, here family gone, and her father had been right. This was a snake pit. Whether Aemond believed in his brother or not, he would not betray his family, which made him a usurper too. She had no allies here, no one who could—”

“Where is Princess Rhaenys?” Aelinor remembered. “Has she been imprisoned as well?”

“The Princess Rhaenys has been confined to her chambers.” Alicent said. “As were you.”

“Then I have great sympathy for her.” Aelinor sighed. “What is to become of us?”

Alicent stepped forward suddenly, grabbing Aelinor’s hand with surprising force. “Aelinor, it does not need to be this way. There is a way forward where we can all find happiness.”

“Happiness?” Aelinor tried to pull her hands free. “How?”

“The way the King intended,” Alicent insisted. “You will wed Aemond, show your support for Aegon’s ascension, and your mother will see reason and the realm will finally be at peace.”

Aelinor succeeded in pulling her hands free. “I was not aware that the realm was at war.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Aemond entered, holding a bundle in his hands that Aelinor recognized as one of her velvet day cloaks. She assumed that within the bundle was something for her to wear that wasn’t a nightdress.

“Aegon will be crowned in two hours’ time,” Alicent said. “It is for the best that you be there, with us. That you stand in support of the rightful King.”

Aelinor met Aemond’s gaze, saw something like pleading shining in his eye.

She turned to Alicent, holding her gaze steady as she spoke. “Do with me what you will. But if you put me in front of a crowd, I shall declare your treachery for all to hear.”

Disappointment flashed across Alicent’s face, but she nodded. “Very well then. You shall remain here, until it is decided what is to be done with you.”

She turned, touching Aemond’s arm as she left. “You will be there, Aemond.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “I will, Mother.”

The Queen left, leaving them alone once again.

“How can you do this, Aemond?” Aelinor demanded. “To my mother, to me.”

He set her clothes on the bed, walking forward. “I am doing what is right, I only hope that you can understand this.”

“Understand?” She scoffed. “Did you not hear your mother? They are going to decide what is to be done with me. If your brother wills it, my head might be on a pike tomorrow!”

“No, you shall be safe.” Aemond assured her. “We will marry once all this has blown over, and all will be well.”

“It cannot be well when a usurper sits the throne.”

Aemond took her hands in his, leaning down until his forehead pressed against hers. “I am begging you, Lina. These things are unsavory, and I know you to be too goodhearted and gentle to bare them, but we must do our part. Do you not wish to marry me?”

“Of course I do.” She promised, lifting her hands to touch the sides of his face, her thumb tracing the side of his eye patch. “But I could not bare to see my family hurt.”

Aemond pressed a kiss to her lips, and she tried to let some of the tension leave her body. “We can only do our own part, Lina. Mine is to defend my brother, and yours is to be your mother’s best advocate at court. An advocate for peace.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You marry me. You keep the peace. You stand beside me at my brother’s coronation.”

Aelinor closed her eyes, picturing it. Clothed in a gown of deep green, standing at Aemond’s side as Aegon knelt to receive the crown. A show of unity that would force her mother to yield. It could bring about an age of peace.

Or it could be the cause of a war.

“I will marry you, Aemond.” She said quietly. “I love you too dearly to wish for anything else.”

He smiled, moving to kiss her again.

She held up a hand. “And I shall not try to leave King’s Landing. I would not give the less rational members of Aegon’s court cause for retribution.”

Aemond nodded. “You will be safe here, under my protection. I swear it, my Love.”

My Love .

“But Aemond.” Aelinor stepped away. “I will not be at Aegon’s coronation, not unless you drag me there bound hand and foot.”

His face darkened. “And you will not change your mind?”

“I shall not.”

He nodded, stepping back and assuming a false calm that unsettled her. “Very well then, have it your way. You will remain here until I return. I will have someone escort you back to your chambers.”

“Thank you, Aemond.”

He looked like he wished to say more, but he just bowed and left her alone to change. After escorting her back to her rooms, he left her alone without another word.

***************************

Aelinor spent the following hours pacing her chambers, worrying over Jeyne and the Princess Rhaenys. As she had promised Aemond, she did not intend to try to escape. If she were caught it would give the Queen an excuse to throw her in the dungeons, or worse, and that would only result in spurring her mother into war. No, she needed to keep her wits about her if she were to survive this.

Through the window she watched the masses of King’s Landing be herded into the Dragonpit for the coronation.

She had Aemond by her side. Aemond who, while she did not doubt that she was loyal to his family, would never see her hurt. And though she was itching to wring his neck for supporting Aegon, she was not ready to turn her back on him either.

Perhaps he was right. If she stayed here, played her part, perhaps she could contribute to bringing about peace. If she stayed long enough, the other lords would muster to her mother’s cause and force Aegon from the throne. Her mother would be merciful, her father could be persuaded, and she would still be allowed to marry Aemond. There was still a way forward for them.

She climbed into the window, leaning against the wall and studying the city. The tiny buildings that leaned against each other, the harbor sparkling in the distance, the Dragonpit standin tall above it all.

Did her mother know what had happened yet? Surely someone must have made it out of King’s Landing, must have shared the news. She would be worried, probably furious with herself for leaving Aelinor behind. It would not be good for the babe, for her mother to worry so. Aelinor chewed on her fingernail. Her father would be itching for war, and she hoped there was a small part of his desire for vengeance that stemmed from care from her.

Jacaerys and Lucerys, they probably would have already flown back on dragon back, to try to rescue her on their own. She imagined her mother locking them in their rooms, and the thought made her laugh.

With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the stone. The bells tolled, signaling the start of the coronation. Somewhere, beneath the Dragonpit, underneath Aegon’s very feet, was Darrax. She wondered if she would be allowed to visit him soon, as long as Aemond accompanied her. But then she realized that Aemond would not have time to accompany her anywhere. This was a coup, after all, and they would have much work to do to consolidate their power. He would not have time for her.

She closed her eyes, whispering a prayer. They just had to weather this storm. One way or another, Aemond and her would be together. She just needed to have faith, and to keep her own strength.

An unfamiliar rumble reached her ears, and when her eyes opened she saw the crimson streak of Meleys crashing through the doors of the Dragonpit. Underneath her feet people were trampled, hundreds more running for their lives.

Aelinor began to weep.

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #fanfiction #fanfic #game of thrones #lady of the ashes #aemond one eye

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incandescentlysomething · 19 days

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 10

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 5508

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Started a new job this week so things have slowed down a bit! Only three chapters left!! Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

When morning came, Aelinor watched as her family packed their things, the Princess’ chambers emptying as quickly as they had arrived.

“You should be coming with us,” Luc muttered under his breath.

Aelinor looked up, finding him standing over her with a solemn look on his face. As everyone else packed, she had dressed in a plain scarlet day gown and was reclining on the chaise sipping a cup of tea. Maids and pages hurried back and forth, carrying away chests of belongings, but none of them belonged to her.

“You keep saying that,” She said finally. “But it won’t make any difference.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” he sighed. “This is wrong.”

“It is what it is.” She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Now, go gather your things. Don’t leave it for someone else to do.”

He obliged, leaving her to her solitude once again.

Aelinor could not remember another time in her life when she had felt so conflicted. Only yesterday she had been approaching genuine delight over the news of her betrothal, and yet that dinner had ruined it. It had forced her to realize that what everyone had been telling her since their arrival was the truth. Aemond was not the same person that she had known before. He was capable of malice, of cruelty, and he had directed that hatred at her brothers. It was not in her nature to hold a grudge, and yet she did not see how she could forgive this.

Jace emerged into the parlor, wearing his riding clothes with his cloak hanging from his arm. Aelinor frowned when she saw how wilted he looked. Her big, annoying brother looked…beaten. And she did not want that.

“Jace,” She said softly. “How did you sleep?”

He didn’t reply, and when his eyes passed over her she thought she saw something like mourning in his gaze.

“Talk to me,” She whispered. “Please?”

With a heavy sigh, he walked over and sat on the arm of her chaise. “What do you want me to say, Aelinor?”

“Whatever it is you feel you need to.” She placed a hand on his arm.

Jace stared down at her hand. “Very well. Then I must apologize for failing you in this. I know I have been a frightful brother, and I am ashamed for how I have disappointed you.”

“You have not disappointed me,” Aelinor promised. “If you are referring to the brawl at dinner, I can assure you that I realize that was not your doing. I do not blame you at all.”

“You should,” He mumbled.

“Why?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “If you do not explain, I cannot hope to understand, Jace. And we haven’t much time.”

The reminder of their dwindling time together seemed to be encouragement enough.

“You may mock me for wishing to protect you —”

“I don’t.”

“You do, often.” He said that without resentment. “But it is my duty. And it is a duty that I have often failed at. But I cannot help but feel that this arrangement, that my leaving you here, is too deep a failure to bear.”

“Jace, it is not your doing,” Aelinor said. “And it isn’t….it does not have to be the end of the world. I know you and Aemond have your differences, but he has always been good to me, always . I have faith that these….these familial differences will fade with time. I must have faith.”

Someday, and she hoped it was not someday soon, her mother would come into her throne. And when she did, the world would be set to rights and the Queen and Rhaenyra would have to set aside their differences. Aemond and Aelinor would be married by then, maybe even…maybe have children of their own, and their families would be brought together by it. Viserys’ dream would be fulfilled, and all would be well.

A dim part of Aelinor realized that holding onto that hope was the only thing keeping her together.

“But if he were…if he were cruel to you,” Jace continued. “It would be our fault, you see. Because no one hates you, but he does hate us. His mother hates us almost as much as she hates our own mother. They all despise Prince Daemon and he’s your—”

Aelinor saw how he bit his tongue before he continued.

“He’s my what?” She whispered.

“We know, Aelinor,” Jace gave her a small smile. “Luc and I, we’ve known for a while. And we do not hold it against you.”

Aelinor looked down, her throat welling up as she fought to contain her emotions. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“We’re family,” Jace said. “Some secrets can be left unsaid.”

She squeezed his arm gratefully.

“My point is,” Jace sighed. “You are not going to be Aelinor to these people, once we are gone. You will be a hostage. Whether you realize it, whether Aemond realizes it, you will be. Which means that once again, I have failed you.”

It must have been a heavy burden to bear, she suddenly realized. Her brother had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was a future king, battling claims of illegitimacy from all sides, and doing everything in his power to keep their family together. She wondered then if perhaps she had made things difficult for him all these years, by constantly pulling away. If Jace already saw the divide between their families, then it must have seemed like she was slipping out of reach. It must now seem that she was being torn away from them.

“Jace,” She said quietly, leaning close so that no passing servants would hear them. “I have loathed you, and hated you, and wished that I could smother you with a pillow. But you have never failed me, and I have never, never, not loved you. Because you are my brother, and our blood is that of the dragon, and it runs thick.”

She saw water welling in his eyes, and he pulled her into his chest.

“What is this? Have I been left out of a moment?” Luc was back, wearing his own riding clothes.

“I’ve just been declared the favorite brother,” Jace teased.

“He’s lying,” Aelinor promised. “You hold that titled uncontested.”

“Good,” Luc stepped forward. “But, we must be going. We must get to the Dragonpit and it will be slow going through the city.”

Aelinor felt overwhelmed with sadness as she watched Jace stand and button his cloak. With a sigh she stood, crossing the room to Luc and pulling him into her arms. “Fly safe, little brother.

“Of course, Lina,” He laughed. “As long as I’m faster than Jace.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling away slightly as he squeezed her around the waist.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” He whispered.

“I will,” She promised. “I’ll have Darrax, after all. And when I see you next, he might be as big as Vhagar.”

“It won’t be that long,” Luc said insistently.

“That’s true,” Jace sniped. “If nothing else, we’ll see you for the wedding.”

“Your invitation may go missing,” Aelinor shook her head at him.

She was close to tears, so she gave each boy another hug before shooing them out the door. She would see them again soon, and there was no reason to be so undignified about this entire thing.

“Aelinor,” She turned, finding her father standing with his hands behind his back.

“Prince Daemon,” She bobbed her head.

He stepped forward slowly, his eyes catching on the red rimming her eyes. “I will not lecture you, nor do I expect you to take any advice from me.”

He was correct. “But?”

“But…” He reached out until his fingers brushed her shoulder. “Remember who you are. Because this place….it will try to tame you.”

“And how do you know that?” She asked.

“Because it failed to tame me.”

In true Daemon fashion, he let those be his parting words, striding from the room with two stewards hurrying after him. Aelinor almost wished he’d said more. She knew so little of her father, and practically all of it had been told to her by others. But getting to know him would mean accepting who he was, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

Her mother emerged from the bedroom, little Viserys on her hip. A maid hurried by carrying a chest, and thus the chambers were emptied. She came to stand beside her daughter, both lingering in silence for a long moment.

“Are you sure you wish to stay in these rooms?” Rhaenyra asked. “It will seem very empty with just you.”

Aelinor shrugged. “It feels as close to home as I’m likely to get.”

Her mother closed her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. “Aelinor, if you do not wish to stay here, say it. You can come with us.”

“What, and disobey the wishes of the King?” Aelinor scoffed. “Can you imagine the scandal?”

“You are my daughter,” Rhaenyra said, her tone stubborn. “And I will not have your life dictated to you. If you do not want to be here, if you do not wish to marry Aemond, you will not. I swear it.”

She knew that her mother meant it. And it was for precisely that reason that she knew she had to stay. With tensions as they were, she had to do her part to alleviate the animosity between the two families. Make them remember that they were one family.

“I will stay,” She answered. “Though I will admit, my feelings are not as certain as they were before last night.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra sighed. “That was….that dinner did not go how I had hoped.”

“Parts of it were good,” Aelinor offered. “Or at least, I thought so.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra studied her for a minute. The baby gurgled in her arms. “Aelinor, I know you want to think that Aemond is good, that he is the same boy you loved as a girl. But he is not.”

“I know that,” Aelinor admitted.

“And I do not think he is….I doubt he is the monster people make him out to be,” Rhaenyra admitted. “He was always sweet when he was young, and I do not doubt, nor have I ever doubted that he cares for you.”

“But?” Why could neither of her parents just say what they wanted to say?”

“The world is not up to him,” Rhaenyra said sadly. “It is not up to any of us. And I fear that even his best intentions may not be enough to protect you.”

Aelinor saw genuine fear shining her mother’s eyes, and once again felt emotion well up in her throat. “I can look after myself, Mother.”

“I know,” Rhaenyra gave her a small smile. “You are my daughter, after all. Which is why I have faith.”

Biting her lip, Aelinor wrapped her mother and her youngest brother in a hug. “I will see you soon?”

“As soon as I am able to return on dragonback,” Her mother promised.

“Perhaps with a new little brother or little sister?” Aelinor patted her mother’s stomach, prompting a snort of laughter.

“You children are all impossibly impatient,” Rhaenyra chuckled. “I will not be rushed.”

“No, of course not,” Aelinor laughed. “But yet I must remind you that your ship is waiting.”

“Yes, it is.” Rhaenyra’s smile dampened slightly. “I love you, Sweet girl. Be well.”

“Be well, Mother.” Aelinor squeezed her hand one last time, before she was left alone.

************************************

She sat in the window until she saw her mother’s ship sail from the harbor and disappear from view. Once they were well and truly gone, she finally allowed herself to cry. She knew she was being ridiculous, that she would see her family again soon, and that many women her age had long since left their childhood homes behind.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Already she saw some wisdom behind her mother’s words. These chambers did remind her of her family. While that would likely be a comfort in the coming weeks, it was agony now. With a quick word to her maid, she left the rooms, heading toward the palace gardens.

The halls were still quiet, with many of the lords and ladies having left already following the ball. Soon it would trickle down just to the permanent residents of the Keep, and Aelinor was looking forward to being surrounded by only familiar faces.

But then, the thought of being alone in this castle, unable to put a crowd between herself and Aemond….it sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

In her entire life, she had never once dreaded seeing Aemond. The opposite, in fact, when she had spent the majority of her life either with him or missing him. And she did miss him, which was absurd because they had seen each other yesterday. But that dinner…the things he had said…she felt as though he had driven a wedge between them.

And honestly…. fuck him . Why did he have to go and ruin something that could have been so wonderful? They were supposed to be celebrating their betrothal, she was supposed to be beaming with joy, and instead she was filled with worry and dread.

The cool breeze of the gardens was a refreshing change from the stone halls, and she picked a path and started to stroll through. It was still too early for the flowers to be in full bloom, but the greenery and topiaries were lush and plentiful. It was a dramatic change from Dragonstone, which sported little more than grass and shrubs. No one else seemed to be out this early in the morning, so Aelinor took her time, letting her feet drag on the ground. Perhaps later she might be able to sneak away and take Darrax for a short flight. That always improved her moods.

“Bit early for a walk, isn’t it?”

A figure stepped into her path, the man leaning heavily on his cane as he dipped his head. Aelinor stopped in her tracks, managing to keep a grimace off her face. It was the unnerving man from the ball. She had hoped that he would leave with the guests, but he was here in the royal gardens, which suggested that he was a permanent resident.

“Your family is…all gone?” He tilted his head.

Aelinor steadied herself, straightening her shoulders. “The Princess Rhaenyra and the rest of my siblings did indeed leave this morning.”

“And yet, you’re still here?”

She frowned. “What is your name, Ser? I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.”

“Lord Larys!”

Gods, Aemond’s voice made her want to flee, propriety be damned. She practically felt a shadow fall over her as he loomed behind her, and she closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. If she turned, he would be only inches away. She didn’t know what she could say to him, what she would do.

Which was why she didn’t turn.

Instead, she studied the man in front of her, his name alighting a tiny spark of familiarity in her mind. “Lord Larys Strong?”

“Indeed, Princess.” He dipped his head again, a greasy smile on his face. “I knew you, when you were very young.”

She could not recall ever speaking to him, but she supposed it was not impossible. After all, his father had been Hand of the King at the same time his elder brother was serving as guard to Princess Rhaenyra. This was her brothers’ uncle, though she could find no similarity between the swarmy man in front of her and the gallant figure she remembered Ser Harwin to be.

“It is…nice to see you again.” She offered, trying to keep her reluctance out of her voice.

Lord Larys nodded again. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you, Princess. As it is, I am needed elsewhere.”

Aelinor suspected that he had nothing better to do than skulk through the gardens, but that his hurried departure was spurred on by the Prince looming behind her. She turned and watched Lord Larys limp away, until he had disappeared from view and she had no choice but to face Aemond.

He stepped back when she turned, putting a much needed distance between them. The first thing she noticed was that he looked exhausted. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his face was pale and somber. His hair hung loose about his head, and she realized that the unbuttoned tunic he wore was the same that he had been wearing at dinner.

An immature part of her felt some satisfaction at his appearance. He deserved to lose sleep over what he had done. He had hurt her brothers, caused outrage and scandal at a family gathering, and most importantly, he had hurt her .

But that spite was quickly overshadowed by concern. “You do not look well.”

“Sleep did not find me,” He clasped his hands behind his back.

“It’s still early,” She gestured to the empty garden. “You could still be abed.”

He shook his head. “I needed to find you.”

It seemed that they were doomed to repeat themselves. Aemond would do something, there would be a misunderstanding, and then they would talk and she would be open and forgiving. Even now, she felt the urge to question him, to demand that he rationalize why he had said what he said.

But she would not give in. Not this time. “Why did you need to find me?”

“You know why.” He implored.

“No,” Aelinor started walking, leaving him to follow behind her. “No, I do not. Enlighten me.”

He stayed a few steps behind her, within earshot and yet too far for her to catch a glimpse out of the corner of her eye. “About dinner.”

Aelinor shook her head. “I do not care for subtleties, Aemond. If you want to talk, then talk. I will not help you along.”

There was a long silence. “I suppose that is fair.”

It was more than fair, and they both knew it. Aelinor turned a corner, heading to the balcony that overlooked the city.

“You are angry with me.” Aemond said finally.

She scoffed. “Of course I am! You took what should have been a happy occasion and used it to ridicule my family. Am I supposed to be pleased?”

She bypassed the small garden table and chairs and walked to the railing, leaning over the stone to peer down at King’s Landing. If the Keep was having a slow morning, the city proper was positively bustling. Smoke rose from chimneys and even from here she could see vendors readying their carts to be pushed to market. It all seemed a world away.

Aemond stopped beside her, and when she looked up she found his gaze trained on her.

“Why did you do it?” She whispered.

“I…I don’t know.” He looked down.

She frowned. “I don’t believe you. Give me a reason. Help me to understand. Because I refuse to build a marriage on uncertainties.”

Reminding him of their betrothal seemed to spur something in him, and he swallowed. “Aren’t you angry at them?”

“At who?”

“Your brothers. Well, Jacaerys and Lucerys, I have no grudge against the little ones.”

“Why on earth would I be angry at them?” She asked. “You started that fight. Not them.”

He was silent for a long time, so long that she wondered if he ever intended on answering her.

“Do you not remember how they burned you? How they scarred me? How they taunted me with a pig all my life until I claimed Vhagar? How have you forgotten all that?”

“I have forgotten nothing!” She exclaimed. “But they were children, Aemond! We were all children. What is mine to forgive, I have forgiven. They have grown. We all have changed.”

“Your brother carved out my eye!” He shouted, gesturing to his face.

“Yes. Yes, he did,” Aelinor stepped away, crossing her arms. “And moments earlier you had prepared to bludgeon him with a stone. Perhaps I should be holding a grudge against you, for that.”

She could see that she had caught him by surprise.

“And furthermore,” She continued. “You know as well as I that, as cruel as those pranks were, Aegon was responsible for just as many as my brothers were. But we were all children .”

“Am I supposed to forgive them, is that it?” He demanded.

“Yes!” She cried. “They are my brothers. I will not ask you to be friends with them, but if we are to marry, this fighting must cease. For your father, for the sake of our mothers, for ourselves! We cannot live with this anger, Aemond.”

She stepped forward, tilting her chin to look up at him. “I cannot live with it.”

His eye closed, and then slowly his fingers stretched out and grasped at the fabric of her sleeves.

“You…” The words caught in his throat. “I do not think forgiveness is in my nature, not like it is for you.”

Aelinor leaned closer, her hands finding the sides of his tunic. At the first touch, his eye shot open, staring down at her with something between alarm and wonderment.

“I will not ask you to forgive, then.” She whispered. “I can forgive for the both of us. But you must not let yourself be ruled by anger. It will destroy you.”

It will destroy us , she thought.

He nodded slowly. “I…I can try.For you.”

“That is all I ask,” She smiled.

Aemond tentatively smiled back.

Aelinor felt some of her loneliness dissipate. “I did not like being angry at you,” she said quietly, stretching her arms up until they rested on his shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She thought she could feel his fingers tracing the small of her back.

She let out a laugh. “How ridiculous we are! We can bear nine years apart, but not one evening?”

“I could not bear it,” Aemond said seriously, his palm spreading on her back. “Not for those years, nor one evening. It if were up to me we would never be parted again.”

It was a childish, juvenile sentiment, the type of softness that others would scoff to hear. But for Aelinor, it was just the Aemond she knew and loved.

“We never have to be,” She whispered. “We’re betrothed, after all.”

Aemond nodded slowly. “And you…you’re sure that this is what you want?”

She understood his hesitation. Whatever kindness had driven her grandfather to betrothe them, their marriage would be an intensely political one. Both of them would serve as hostages to ensure the cooperation of their families, both of them would be constantly drawn into the game as pawns to wield against the other. There was every reason to fear what this might do to them, to their families.

But there was no one in the Seven Kingdoms, nor anywhere else in the world, that Aelinor would ever want to marry as much as she wanted Aemond. He had been the most constant figure through her entire life, and she knew that she could trust him to stand at her side.

“Aemond,” She promised. “I have never wanted anything more.”

And then, in a moment of bravery or boldness, Aelinor stood on her toes and pressed her lips to Aemond’s.

For a split second she wondered if she had made a horrible mistake. His entire body stiffened, and he did not react or move. Oh gods, she had humiliated herself.

But suddenly Aemond had both arms around her waist, pulling her into his body and kissing her back with a passion that left her lightheaded.

Aelinor had never been one to fantasize about kissing boys. It had never interested her, though perhaps that was because her most likely marriage prospect had been her older brother. But this…she could understand now why the heroines in all of her story books were always dreaming of kissing princes.

Her head fell back, her mouth parting as Aemond’s lips moved over hers. One of her hands twisted in his hair, pulling slightly when she felt his tongue brush her lip. A tiny, embarrassing sound escaped her mouth, but it only seemed to spur Aemond on. He pushed forward until her hips were against the railing, his arms a cage from which she never wanted to escape.

“Aemond.” She whispered.

“Lina.” He replied, kissing her again. She felt one of his hands traveling to her hip, the other rising to cup her cheek. His palms were rough, callused from years of training and dragon riding, but she thought that she had never felt anything so wonderful.

Voices broke through, carrying on the wind from the garden. There was someone coming, someone who had taken their own morning stroll and likely did not expect to find the Prince and Princess locked in an embrace. They had to part before they were seen.

“There’s someone coming,” Aelinor pulled away slightly, just enough to catch her breath.

Aemond chased her, leaning down until his nose pressed against her forehead. “So?”

“So…what if we’re seen? What would your mother say? What would your brother say?”

“Fuck my brother.” Aemond grinned. “And fuck anyone else. We’re betrothed, remember?”

A smile pulled at her lips, and he dipped to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I might remember.”

“And as your betrothed it is my right — no, it is my duty, to kiss my future wife as often as she likes. And anyone who says otherwise can be a feast for Vhagar and Darrax.”

Aelinor felt her cheeks heat. His future wife . Gods, that sounded perfect.

“How very ruthless of you,” She laughed.

“For you, anything.” He beamed, appearing lighter than she had ever seen him.

Ignoring that they were likely going to have visitors in the next few minutes, Aelinor tightened her arms around him and hugged him closely. “Thank you, Aemond.”

“You never need to thank me,” He said into her hair. “Not ever.”

“But I am grateful nonetheless.” She smiled. “Now, we really should be going before we are caught.”

Aemond relented and stepped away, but surprised her when he reached for her injured hand and clasped it in his own. When they stepped out from the secluded balcony onto the main path, they nearly ran right into Lord Beesbury and his wife.

“My Prince!” Beesbury exclaimed. “And Princess Aelinor! What a fine morning, isn’t it?” His gaze drifted to their joined hands, and then back to the flushed expressions on their faces. “Shall I…go another way?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aemond said, his voice hardening.

Aelinor placed hand on his arm, before offering Beesbury her most sympathetic smile. “We should hate to interrupt your walk, My Lord. We were just leaving.”

She bobbed a quick curtsy, practically forcing Aemond to bow as well, and then they excused themselves.

“You’re very…prickly.” Aelinor noted. “Lord Beesbury is kind.”

“He interrupted us.” Aemond grumbled.

“Yes, and he was kind about it.” Aelinor said. “Now, let us go. The gardens always fill quickly.” There was little else to do in the capital, at least not for the upstanding members of court, and the weather was fair on this day.

“How did you intend to spend your day?” Aemond asked.

Aelinor shrugged. “I believe my intention was to spend it moping. If you remember, my family is gone and I was angry at you.”

He frowned. “I thought we—”

“I’m only jesting, Aemond.” She squeezed his hand. “And I thought I may take Darrax for a ride. He has not been out since we arrived, and does not enjoy being confined.”

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, before quickly looking away.

She nudged him. “What was that?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, you must tell me!” She laughed, tugging on his arm.

He chuckled, pretending to sag into her weight. “Very well. I was going to suggest that I could take Vhagar as well and we could go together. If that would please you.”

Already a grin was spreading across Aelinor’s face. “Now you’re the one being ridiculous. Let us hurry, I shall change into my riding clothes and meet you in the courtyard in an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be,” He promised, laughing as she picked up her skirts and hurried away.

**************************************

This has been the best day of Aelinor’s life. She was sure that no day would ever be able to compare to the elation of soaring through the clouds on Darrax, Aemond and Vhagar flying alongside her. Both Darrax and Vhagar had behaved themselves, and Darrax had even playfully flown circles around the older dragon. If that was a sign of things to come, then it was a good sign.

But not the sun had set, and Aelinor was exhausted. It was a good type of exhaustion, the kind that made her wish to sink into her bed and collapse into a sleep of wonderful dreams. Tomorrow they could do it all again, just as they could for the rest of their lives.

Aemond walked at her side, laughing as she brushed dust from her coat. Her riding clothes were ornate, more decorative than practical, but she had always loved them. The issue was, however, that she dreaded seeing the dust and dragon reek settle into the intricately embroidered scales along the black leather.

“Don’t laugh,” She protested, though she was smiling too. “I shall have to get these laundered.”

“Then we cannot go out again tomorrow?” Aemond asked, raising his eyebrows.

Aelinor rolled her eyes. “I am a Princess, Aemond. I have more than one set of riding clothes.”

“Shame,” He sighed dramatically. “I thought to take you down to the market. There are vendors who sell candied lemons and sugar-boiled cherries, but I suppose you will miss out.”

She gasped. “Aemond! We must go!”

They were arriving at her door, and Aelinor felt a twinge of disappointment at the realization that they must now part ways.

“Then we shall go,” Aemond promised, dipping his head. “It would be an honor to escort you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Aelinor said, coming to a stop before her chambers. She reached out and took both of his hands, her riding gloves intertwining between his fingers. “Thank you, Aemond. Today was perfect.”

“It is I who should be thanking you,” He said, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to her lips. It was chaste, so chaste that it probably would not even cause scandal if they were seen, and it left Aelinor wanting more. But Aemond was determined to be a gentleman, and so he stepped away and bowed deeply at the waist.

“My Princess,” He smiled as he rose.

Chuckling, she held out the sides of her riding jacket and bobbed a curtsy. “My Prince. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” He promised.

Aemond watched until she had shut the door behind her, and then she listened for a few moments longer until his footsteps finally moved away.

With a girlish giggle, Aelinor spun in a circle.

“Princess?” Her maid, Jayne, was standing in the corner of the parlor. She had one eyebrow raised, an amused smile pulling at her lips.

“Oh, Jeyne!” Aelinor exclaimed. “I have had the best day.”

“I can see that, Princess.” Jeyne laughed. “Shall I get you some dinner?”

“Oh, yes please!” Aelinor grinned. “Something light, that I can eat in the bath. I intend to go to bed early tonight, as I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“As you say, Princess.” Jeyne nodded.

**************************************

Aemond returned to his rooms feeling like a new man. He knew his brother would mock him to hear it, but he could not help but feel as thought he had been swept into a dream. Aelinor was his . They had spent the day together, and he had basked in her beauty and perfection as he had always dreamed.

They had kissed . He had held her in his arms and embraced her, and already he wished that he did not have to let go.

And he didn’t. Tomorrow, they would spend their day together again, as they would the next, and the next. For now, he allowed the worries of succession and the tensions between their families fall to the wayside.

He had Aelinor, after all, and so everything was perfect.

************************************

Aelinor reclined into a hot bath, feasting on meats and cheese until she was satisfied, and then allowed Jeyne to braid her hair before she fell into bed. Tomorrow Jeyne would move into these chambers as well, to serve as a chaperone and companion until proper alternatives could be provided. But for tonight, Aelinor simply wished her maid a good night before she closed the door behind her and returned to the servants corridors.

Then, Aelinor wrapped herself in her covers and fell into a comfortable sleep. It was the perfect end to the perfect day.

And then, sometime before the dawn, someone began to pound at her door

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #fanfiction #fanfic #game of thrones #lady of the ashes #aemond one eye

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incandescentlysomething · 26 days

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 9

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 5523

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Started a new job this week so things have slowed down a bit! Only three chapters left!! Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Aelinor did not come back to herself until after the King had been carried away, his moans of pain swallowed by the din of the crowd. Luc had her by the hand, pulling her along as they all hurried from the hall.

“It is an outrage, Mother!” Jace was protesting. “He cannot just give Aelinor—”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra cut him off, one hand rubbing her stomach. “He can. And he has. Now we must find a way forward.”

“Don’t worry, Sister.” Luc squeezed her hand. “We’ll fix this.”

“I don’t think that this is a thing to be fixed, Luc.”

They pushed through the main doors, and out into the corridor when they became aware of people following them.

“Aelinor!” Aemond was pushing through the crowd, his brother at his side.

Aelinor paused, starting to turn. She needed to speak with him. He was probably the only person in the world that she wanted to speak to at this moment.

Gods above, they were betrothed . Her mind had not quite wrapped herself around what that meant. To think only a few hours before she had been celebrating her brothers’ betrothals, and now she had one of her own.

She supposed that it had always been somewhat of a possibility. Aemond would certainly never have been an option in her mother’s mind, but as the daughter of the Heir, Aelinor had always known that she would be betrothed to some lord somewhere, if she did not end up marrying Jace. She had once even heard rumors that many years ago, when things were better between their families, that Rhaenyra had suggested marrying her to Aegon. All of these options had seemed impossible and distant to Aelinor, a series of mediocre options when she knew there was only one person in the world who she cared for enough to marry.

And now, thanks to her grandfather, it was a reality.

“Aelinor!” Aemond shouted again.

She stopped, facing him as he came to a stop in front of her. He was breathing heavily, his eyes alight with something she didn’t recognize. His gaze slid from hers, down to where Luc held her hand, and then over her shoulder. She glanced back, surprised to see Prince Daemon standing directly behind her. Something passed between the two men, something that sent a chill through Aelinor’s veins.

“We should talk.” She said quietly, drawing Aemond’s focus back to her.

She half expected him to reject her, to meet her with the same hostility that he had held when they spoke before the trial. But she needed to speak to him, to find out how he felt about all of this. Aemond wasn’t one to appreciate having his life chosen for him, and she worried that he may resent her for the King’s announcement.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. “Perhaps we should—”

“Aelinor,” Luc tugged on her hand. She was very aware of just how many people were watching this interaction, and she very desperately did not want to have this conversation with an audience.

“Aelinor, we need to go.” Jacaerys was at her other side, pulling on her arm.

She gave Aemond an apologetic look. “Perhaps we can—”

But Aemond was sneering at her brother. “I have a right to speak to my betrothed.”

“You have no right!” Jacaerys shouted.

“She isn’t your anything!” Luc protested.

“Can we well just—” Aelinor begged, trying to pull Jacaerys back as he stepped forward.

“Children!” She had never been so grateful to hear her mother’s voice. “Enough, all of you.”

Rhaenyra came to stand between them, casting a long glance over Aemond. “The King has requested a dinner this evening, Prince Aemond. You can speak then. As it is, my family and I will retire to our chambers.”

She watched Aemond clench his jaw, clearly unwilling to contradict the Princess when they were surrounded by so many other people.

“Mother,” Aelinor said gently, managing to shake free of Jace’s grip and reach for her hand. “Perhaps Aemond could walk me back? We’d only be a few minutes behind.”

“Absolutely not.” Jacaerys said. “It would be—”

“That will be fine, Aelinor.” Her mother acquiesced. “But do not take too long.”

She gave her mother a grateful smile, and the one Rhaenyra offered made her appreciate her mother all the more. Even though she did not want to, she was listening to what Aelinor wanted, giving her some of the control in this situation. It was more than most parents would offer.

“I won’t.” She promised.

Rhaenyra took Jace by the arm, leading her family away. Aelinor was left surrounded by nobles, a seething Aemond at her side.

“Arm.” She hissed.

“What?” He looked confused.

“Offer me your arm.” She repeated.

Snapping back to awareness, Aemond quickly offered his arm. She looped her own through his, wrapping both of her arms around his as they started to walk. There were appearances to keep up, after all.

Once they were walking, the nobles fell away, not bold enough to be so obvious in their eavesdropping.

“Well,” She began. “That was eventful.”

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked. “Those things he said, and your…Prince Daemon…that can’t have been easy for you to see.”

No it hadn’t been. Aelinor could handle being called a bastard and a whore, and would much rather that those insults be directed at her than at her mother or brothers, but she had never seen someone die before. She had certainly never seen someone be cleaved through the head. But that wasn’t what she wanted to spend her time with Aemond talking about.

“Grandfather’s announcement,” She looked up at him. “Did you know?”

“No,” He gave the answer she had expected. “I have not spoken to my father in….in a long time. I don’t think anyone knew what he intended.”

“No, certainly not.” Aelinor sighed. “I thought my mother was going to faint.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed her.” Aemond’s steps were slowing, trying to draw out their time together before she was returned to her family. “Lina…it’s…”

She could not bear to hear his rejection, which was surely coming. “I do not know what I thought he was about to proclaim. He could have been betrothing me to a Baratheon for all I knew, or gods forbid, a Lannister.”

Aemond tensed. “That wouldn’t have been…ideal.”

“No,” She dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, Aemond.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said stiffly. “I’m certain this was not what you wanted either.”

Either . He did not wish to marry her. He had all but said it outloud, and she felt her heart crack a little bit.

But Aemond was still speaking. “Having our betrothal be announced as a political machination, after bloodshed was never what I wanted for you.”

They were nearly at Aelinor’s family’s chambers, and she slowed nearly to a stop. “What are you saying? I thought you were unhappy to be betrothed. You looked…honestly you looked horrified when your father announced it.”

“I was horrified,” Aemond turned, grabbing his hand in hers. “I was horrified for that terrible moment when I thought you were being promised to another.”

“Oh?” She breathed.

“I have never truly imagined myself as having a wife,” Aemond said. “But I think…if the idea ever did enter my mind, there was no one I would have pictured but you.”

Aelinor let out a shaky exhale. “Truly?”

He squeezed her hands. “Truly. And it is I who must apologize to you.”

“What for?” Her mind was still reeling, trying to process what he was saying.

“I was harsh with you, this morning, and you did not deserve it.”

Aelinor gave a small laugh. “You were upset. For reasons I still do not know, and which I intend to uncover.”

He looked troubled. “It should not concern you.”

She clicked her tongue. “It will always concern me when you call yourself a monster, Aemond. You are not capable of being a monster.”

His eyes darkened. “I’m capable of a lot of things.”

“But never that.” She believed that wholeheartedly. Aemond might be prickly at times, he might be quick to anger and a bit too rash, but he could never be monstrous. “As it is, we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Yes, you do.” A voice spoke from behind them, and they both turned to see Jace and Luc standing there.

“Oh, would you two just leave me be?” Aelinor groaned.

“Sorry, little sister.” Jace shook his head. “Mother’s orders.”

She sighed, turning back to Aemond. “Well, I guess there is no arguing with that. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Of course.”

She gave her a small smile before reluctantly dropping his hand and walking away. As soon as she was within reach of her brothers, Luc linked arms with her. She caught both of them looking behind her, but when she turned Aemond was quickly walking away.

“What was that?” She asked. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing, Sister.” Jace placed a hand on her back. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

*************************************************

The sight of family gathered in the parlor, solemn expressions on their faces, was enough to force Aelinor to push all thoughts of her conversation with Aemond from her mind. Her mother was seated on a couch, a cup in her hand and a frown on her face.

“Are you well, Mother?” Aelinor shrugged off her brothers and sat down. “That was a great deal of excitement for you and the babe.”

She leveled a glare at her father, who leaned against the window frame. “I’m sure the impromptu decapitation did not help.”

“His insults were not be borne,” Daemon said. “Or are you so soft that you thought we should let him go on his merry way.”

“Of course he deserved to die,” Aelinor said, meaning every word. Vaemond had questioned her brothers’ legitimacy in front of the entire court. It was treason. “I only think that there was perhaps a more…polite way to do it.” Her father gave her a curious look, as if he were trying to figure out exactly what she was thinking.

“Though perhaps not so effective.” Rhaenyra sighed. “Aelinor, did you have any idea about this…this betrothal?”

“No!” She exclaimed. “No, of course not.”

“Then where would my father get this idea?” Rhaenyra asked, looking to Daemon, who just shrugged.

Aelinor felt her blood run a bit cold as she remembered her conversation with her grandfather the night before. Well, conversation may be slightly overstating the exchange. She had begged aloud for a solution, and she thought he had been in too much pain to hear her, let alone answer. But perhaps he had heard her. Perhaps this betrothal was his answer to her pleas. A way of bringing their families back together.

“It is madness,” Rhaenyra was saying. “Am I to leave my eldest daughter in this pit of snakes? Are we to take Aemond back with us to Dragonstone?”

Daemon shook his head. “She will stay here, with his family. That’s how these things work.”

“It can’t be!” Jace protested. “I’ll…you can’t leave her with Aemond. He’s dangerous.”

“He is not!” Aelinor exclaimed.

Rhaenyra gave him a questioning look. “I know the incident with Vhagar has left its mark on you, but that was many years ago. I admit Aemond is a little wild, and almost certainly under her mother’s thumb, but why would you say that he is dangerous?”

Aelinor tried to silently plead with Jace, begging him to keep the secret, but he just shook his head and pulled aside the collar of his tunic. “He did this to me. Last night, over an imagined insult.”

Rhaenyra gasped, holding one hand to her chest. “He attacked you?”

Aelinor stood, her fists clenching at her side. “Jacaerys!” She cried. “That is not the truth of it. He may have overreacted but he’s…he’s protective of me. And it was not an imagined insult.”

“What is this insult?” Luc asked, looking thoroughly confused.

Aelinor spoke before Jace could offer his interpretation of events. “Aemond felt that the announcement of Jace and Luc’s betrothals were a slight against me. There were some people gossiping at the ball, and things just got out of hand.”

“So he was defending you…against your brother?” Rhaenyra clarified, her face softening a bit.

“Exactly,” Aelinor said. “And I have already spoken to him about it.”

“It is because I am your brother that I cannot allow this to proceed!” Jace was still arguing, and Aelinor wanted to stomp on his foot. “What if the next misunderstanding lands Aelinor at his mercy? And gods forbid she have a run in with Aegon. Do you know the things they say about him? Would we expose Aelinor to that violence?”

“I am not a child!” Aelinor protested. “I can handle Aegon. And Aemond would never hurt me. Besides, we cannot disobey the King.”

“To hell with that!” Jace shouted. “I am your brother! I’ll challenge him, if that's what it takes, but you will not marry him.”

“It isn’t your decision!” Aelinor shouted back.

“No, it isn’t.” Daemon’s voice was low, such a jarring change from their own that both Aelinor and Jace turned to look at him.

Daemon picked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “Do you object to marrying Prince Aemond, Aelinor?”

She gaped for a moment. “I don’t…what do you mean?”

“It’s a fairly simple question. Do. You. Object?”

Aelinor’s silence was answer enough.

“That will be quite enough of that,” Rhaenyra sighed. “Whatever our feelings on this arrangement may be, there is not a solution to be found today. We must prepare for dinner this evening. And you all must be on your best behavior.”

“Do you intend to voice your objection?” Aelinor asked quietly.

Her mother leveled her with a long look. “Do I intend to argue with my bedridden father? Or to sow discord during a family meal? No, I do not. As I said, this will not be solved tonight.”

“So we’re just supposed to go to dinner?” Luc asked, incredulous. “And what…not address it?”

“Exactly.” Rhaenyra said. “We will not address it beyond what is required to make polite conversation.”

Her tone ended the conversation, and Aelinor sank back onto the chaise as her mother and father left the room. No doubt there had been too much excitement to be good for the babe, and there was certain to be more excitement to come at the dinner that evening.

“Are you alright, Aelinor?” Luc perched on the armrest, reaching out to play with the ends of her hair.

She gave a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Luc.”

“Well everything is going to be alright,” Jace was pacing by the window. “Because you aren’t going to marry him.”

“Can you just stop talking?” Aelinor begged. “Please?”

“Sister, he is dangerous ,” Jace glared at her. “I know you think I am being harsh, but I care for you too much to see you married to him. It would be the same if you were married to some Dornish savage or a Northman who bathes in blood. I would protect you.”

“Aemond does not bathe in blood , Jacaerys,” Aelinor shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He will hurt you.”

Aelinor was growing tired of having the same argument, and she tilted her head back against the cushion.

Luc ran his fingers through her hair, his ministrations serving to calm the tension boiling through her body. “This is a pretty hair bauble, Sister. Where did you get it?”

Aelinor lifted a hand, feeling the dragon pin on the back of her head. “Oh, that. Prince Daemon gave it to me this morning.”

“Isn’t it Valyrian steel?” Luc asked.

“I believe so.”

“What?” Jace strode toward them. “Why is Prince Daemon giving you Valyrian steel trinkets?”

“Good gods, Jace,” Aelinor jerked away when he reached for it. “It’s like I’m five years old again. Tell me, is it a natural instinct to snatch away anything I might have, or is it a conscious choice? Would you like to toss this into the hearth as well?”

A shocked silence met her words, and when she looked up she saw Jace drawing his hand back to his chest, guilt in his eyes.

“You know I…I have never meant to hurt you, Sister.” He said quietly.

“I know.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I did not mean that. As obtuse and idiotic as you often are, I have never questioned your affection for me.”

“Which is second only to mine,” Luc teased.

Aelinor snorted. “Oh certainly. There is no contest there.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “You two are insufferable.

Aelinor tilted her head forward and let Luc play with the pin, shaking her hair free when he finally pulled it out.

“Why did Prince Daemon give this to you?” Luc asked.

Aelinor’s breath caught in her throat. She had often wondered if her brothers knew the truth of her parentage, if they knew that neither Laenor Velaryon nor Harwin Strong was her father. Some days she thought it was too obvious for them not to know, and other days she prayed that they never discovered what she felt in some ways to be a double betrayal. The man who raised her was not her father, nor was the man who had carried her about the palace when she was young. Ser Harwin had kept her cradled in a single arm, never wavering no matter how long he held her, carrying her from room to room to distract her in those first weeks after her hand was burned. And Ser Laenor had always been waiting for her when she returned to their family’s chambers, a plate of stolen sweets and a tale of his father’s seafaring ready to distract her from the pain. Those men, she believed, had loved her. They had loved her brothers.

But neither of them were her father.

“I don’t know,” She lied to Luc. “It’s pretty, though.”

They were silent for a long moment, all of them reeling from the morning and trying to come to terms with what was next.

“I will not cease to object,” Jace began slowly, holding up a hand when Aelinor opened her mouth. “But I will not challenge him.”

“You won’t?”

“Unless he hurts you,” Jace said sternly. “But if you are choosing to be so foolish, then you will have my support. As you always do.”

“Dear Brother,” She held out a hand, which he took in his own. “Thank you.”

Jace just huffed, looking slightly put out by her display of affection.

“It’s not like the Aemond we know would ever hurt Aelinor,” Luc added. “He might have always been an arse, but he wasn’t cruel.”

Jace pulled aside his collar, pointing to the bruising.

“As I said, he’s an arse.” Luc snorted. “Perhaps you should have put up a better fight.”

“Oh quiet, both of you!” Aelinor protested. “He isn’t an arse now, and he wasn’t then.”

“He’s an arse.” They said together.

“You’re both arses.” She stood, retrieving her hair pin from Luc’s grip. “Now, I intend to get some sleep, and prepare for what I shall pray will be a quiet family dinner.”

“Throw in a prayer from me as well,” Jace called after her. “We’ll need it.”

*********************************************

Dinner was not going well.

“You do know how the act is done, correct? Where to put your cock and all that?”

Aelinor resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands as Jace reprimanded Aegon, who had managed to be nothing but crude and inappropriate in the five minutes they’d been seated. When she glanced to Helaena sitting at her side, her friend made no reaction to her husband’s remarks.

Choosing to focus on her grandfather, Aelinor tried to turn back to the center of the table.

Someone, and she wasn’t sure if the more likely culprit was the Queen, her mother, or Jace, had sat her on the opposite side of the table from Aemond. He had offered her a strained smile when she had taken her seat, but they had been unable to speak.

“And, of course, the bond which will strengthen our great house, the betrothal of Prince Aemond, to my dear granddaughter, Princess Aelinor.” King Viserys was standing, offering her a smile that seemed to pain him. She did not know how he had the strength to live, let alone to stand and make speeches as he was doing. Still, she smiled brightly at him, trying to convey her love for him.

When she glanced back at Aemond, his expression was unchanged.

The others began to make speeches, her mother, then the queen, but Aelinor was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to listen.

Aemond was being…strange. She could not quite put her finger on it, but she knew that something was wrong. She had thought from their conversation earlier that he was satisfied with their betrothal, and yet his body was wracked with tension. Every glance he sent her way was softened, but quickly returned to ice as he studied the others. It unsettled her, and made her wish that she could just take him by the hand and lead him away, so that they might sort this out once and for all.

Jace was sitting down — why was Jace making a speech? — when Helaena muttered “Beware the beast beneath the boards.”

“What was that?” Aelinor whispered, but then Helaena was standing too.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena and Aelinor. They’ll be married soon, and it isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you, except when he’s drunk.”

Aelinor’s heart broke as her aunt dropped back into her chair, her hands shaking as she took a sip of wine. Someone called for music, and Aelinor reached forward to take Helaena’s hand.

“My darling, are you alright?” She whispered.

Helaena shrugged.

Aelinor glanced across the table, finding Aegon guzzling a cup of wine. When she looked over at Aemond, she thought she saw something like anger flicker across his eyes. Aegon had never been her favorite, nor had she ever particularly liked him. She would never have chosen him for Helaena, who was sweet and docile and required far more patience than Aegon could ever offer. But for him to be so callous to her obvious distress….it made hatred sink deep into Aelinor’s bones.

“Yours will be different.” Helaena mumbled.

“Mine…you mean me and Aemond?” Aelinor asked.

Helaena gave a jerky nod. “Aemond is not Aegon.” Before she began to sing something quietly under her breath.

“No, he isn’t.” Aelinor agreed, sitting back in her chair. She had almost relaxed when she realized what Helaena was singing. “Blood and bars and iron. Blood and bars and iron.”

The words sent a chill down Aelinor’s spine, as if she had heard them before.

Suddenly Jace was right next to her, leaning down to offer a hand to Helaena, sweeping her away into a dance. She had to give it to her brother, he knew how to liven up a somber affair, and soon everyone was laughing and clapping. Her grandfather chuckled weakly, his laughter soon giving way to a wheeze.

Aelinor stood slowly, attracting only the notice of Aemond and her father, the rest of the party too engrossed in the dancing.

Stepping around her mother, Aelinor moved to the King’s side, kneeling on the ground next to him. The azure silk of her dress pooled beneath her knees as she lightly rested her hand on her grandfather’s elbow.

“Grandfather?” She said quietly.

“Aelinor, my heart.” He turned her way, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“You have given us all quite the surprise today,” She said, aware that people on both sides were listening in.

A familiar twinkle lit up his eye. “Not so much as the one I received when I visited my library the night before last.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That was…you were…” She wouldn’t have thought he would have the strength to get out of bed, but then, hadn’t she and Aemond heard someone moving in his chambers, heard the door creak closed behind the voyeur.

“I hope you are not upset with me, my heart,” King Viserys lowered his voice so that only the two of them might hear. “Only, I thought to make you happy.”

Aelinor glanced up, not at all surprised to immediately find Aemond’s eyes on her. “I think you have, Grandfather. I hope so.”

“Good.” He patted her hand, before collapsing back into his chair.

Aelinor returned to her seat, her heart feeling a hundred times lighter. Her betrothal to Aemond was not some grand political machination, nor was it a result of old age or delirium. No, her grandfather had wanted to make her happy, as if that was all that mattered.

She met Aemond’s eye when she sat, and something in her expression caused him to look away. But it did not matter, because once he knew the truth of their betrothal, he would come around. She knew it.

*************************************

Aemond had had a long time to think. Over the course of the rest of the day, and the first half of this agonizingly long dinner, during which he had done nothing but stare at Aelinor, he had reached three conclusions which were almost certainly going to ruin him.

The first he had learned from watching his brother egg on his nephews, and from hearing his mother rant and rave about how the trial had gone that morning. He was not sure that she had realized that he was listening, but he had heard regardless. As he watched his father get wheeled away, little more than a rasping husk in his chair, he realized that the civility of this dinner thus far had been nothing more than a performance. They might be a family, but they did not like each other.

The second realization was that Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon were not going to allow him to wed their sister. He had spent the better part of the day wondering what might have happened if he had refused to let them take her into their family’s chambers, if he had just insisted that she stay with him. But he knew that they would never have relented, that they likely intended on standing in his way, as they always had when they were children. He wished he could forgive them for it, for it wasn’t completely understandable. He likely would have had the same objection if his father had chosen to marry Helaena to one of the bastards. But his resentment of his nephews ran deep, and it was not something that he could forgive.

And the third was that his attachment to Aelinor could surpass these two obstacles. In his mind he rationalized how they would convince her brothers, how they would do what the King had intended and bring their families together. For when Aelinor returned to her seat after speaking with the King, he saw such bright hope shining in his eyes that he knew he would do anything to make their future a possibility.

Their future .

Gods, he didn’t even know what that would mean. He only knew that he would have to find great strength to look past decades of anger, to put her first so that all could be well.

But then they set the pig on the table.

Lucerys Velaryon laughed .

And Aemond was remembering all the reasons that he could never forgive them, never try to make peace. He remembered that damned pig with the wings, remembered Aelinor’s hand in the fire. The sound of his eye being cut from his head, of hands pulling on Aelinor’s braids. Of them laughing, laughing, laughing.

No, it was because of Aelinor that he would not let them be. Let them live their lives unscathed by the pain they had caused. Pain that had scarred not only him, but also the sister they claimed to care so much about.

“Final tribute,” He was standing, a cup balanced in his outstretched hand. All eyes were on him. “To the health of my nephews Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey.”

“Aemond,” His mother said quietly.

But he saw only the black hair of the bastards, and he steadied his gaze on them over the rim of his glass.

“Each of them wise…handsome…” He watched Aelinor push up from her seat, but she was too slow to stop him. “And Strong.”

“Aemond!” His mother said, louder now.

“Let us drain our cups!” He declared. “To these Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again!” Jacaerys stepped forward.

“Jace,” Aelinor was hurrying around the table. “Stop it.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

“Aemond, stop it!” Aelinor cried, leveling him with a look of disappointment that made his insides curdle.

But Jacaerys was stepping forward, and then Aemond was pushing back, and the bastard was sprawled on the floor. Aegon was shoving, punching maybe, and he thought one of the other girls, either Baela or Rhaena, might have been screaming.

“Stop now!” Aelinor stepped in front of him before he could lunge for Jacaerys again.

Aemond stopped himself, stepping back at the same moment that Prince Daemon appeared between them, lifting a finger to ward off Prince Jacaerys.

“Go to your rooms, all of you!” Princess Rhaenyra declared.

Aelinor stared at him over her father’s shoulder, her eyes narrowing in a way that let him know how upset she was. But she listened to her mother, storming from the room with her brothers at her heels.

He could have challenged Prince Daemon there and then for coming between them, but he did not. He could not be sure whether it was the look of amusement that Prince Daemon cast his way, or some bizarre respect afforded to Aelinor’s true father that stayed his hand. He would never admit that it was cowardice. But he followed the others into the corridor.

Everyone else was already gone, so he took a moment to lean against the stone.

Gods, why had he done that? It wasn’t that he regretted it, not truly. The bastards deserved everything they got and more. He only regretted that Aelinor had been hurt by it. He could not find satisfaction in his insult, not when Aelinor was probably in her family’s chambers already, comforting her brothers as they licked their wounds.

A throat cleared behind him, and he turned quickly, surprised to see the Princess Rhaenyra standing there. He did not feign politeness with a bow.

She clasped both hands over her stomach. “Aemond.”

“Princess.”

She sighed, sounding so motherly and disappointed that he wondered how they could be siblings. She seemed so much older than him, something in her gaze making him feel like a small child.

“I will not insult you by attempting to scold you for your behavior,” She said. “You’re a man, and because of that, you must live with your actions.”

He did not respond.

“I only wish to remind you,” She continued. “Of two things I once asked of you. I asked you to protect Aelinor all your life, and you swore to do so. Do you remember this?”

“Of course.” He had only been five years old at the time, yet the memory rang clear as day in his mind.

“And I once asked you not to call my sons….not to call them what you called them today,” He thought that the Princess might have looked a bit uneasy, a bit unsteady on her feet. “Do you remember that?”

“Do you remember that your daughter was being held down by maesters as they repaired the flesh that your sons had mangled beyond use?” He hissed.

“Yes!” Rhaenyra snapped. “And her screams echoed in my mind for years. They echo still. But my sons were boys then, as were you. They were punished.”

Aemond could vaguely recall several months in which Jacaerys and Lucerys were not permitted in the Dragonpit, and were not permitted dessert at their meals. But at the time it had seemed unsatisfactory, hardly justice for what Aelinor had suffered.

“I advise you not to live in the past, Aemond,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Aelinor has moved forward, and I should hate for you to drag her back.”

She started to walk away, her head lowered slightly.

“Do you return to Dragonstone, then?” He asked sharply. “On the morrow?”

“We do,” Rhaenyra said.

Something sharp drove into his heart, something final that threatened to send him to his knees. She was leaving again. Aelinor had barely been home for three days, and already she was leaving him.

“But Aelinor will remain.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“It is tradition,” Rhaenyra sighed. “Since you are betrothed, she will remain in your household for some time. I will return on dragonback when I can.”

He swallowed. “Aelinor is…to stay here?” With me , he thought desperately.

“As I said,” Rhaenyra sighed, carrying on down the hall. “Unless she does not wish to after tonight.”

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #game of thrones #lady of the ashes #aemond one eye

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 8

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 5506

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Accidentally posted this one to the wrong blog haha Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Aelinor was awake even before the sun had appeared through her window. She had not slept well, and was still exhausted from her late night, but she knew that this morning would not be one for leisure.

She wanted nothing more than to remain curled up under her blankets, but she could already hear people moving about in the parlor. Ser Vaemond would make his petition before the king at ten bells, and she had no doubt that courtiers would be flooding the throne room from the early hours, determined to get the best spot.

When she arrived in the parlor her mother was pacing back and forth, one hand on her swollen belly and the other twisting nervously at her side.

“You must rest, Mother,” Aelinor cautioned. “These nerves cannot be good for the baby.”

Rhaenyra held out a hand as her daughter stepped closer, and Aelinor took it in both of her own. “I trust you slept well.”

“As well as can be expected,” Aelinor sighed. “But come, you must sit.”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “I find myself restless. It is best that I stay on my feet.”

Aelinor gave a little smile. “I trust this isn’t a sign of my sibling to come. I could not handle another little boy with Joff’s energy.”

“It could be a girl, you know.” Rhaenyra said. “You could have a sister.”

Aelinor pursed her lips. “I suppose it could. But I shall rejoice all the same. As it is, Baela and Rhaena are all the sisters I need.” She caught her mother’s eye, letting her know just how much she meant that.

Rhaenyra sighed. “Aelinor, if you wish to speak about your father we could—”

“My father,” Aelinor said quickly. “Was Ser Laenor Velaryon. No other.”

“But we could—”

“Today is about Luc, Mother,” Aelinor said. “About his succession. We share a father, and I will stand with him as he claims the seat to which our father’s blood entitles him. As Velaryons.”

Rhaenyra squeezed her hand. “He would be a good father to you, Aelinor. I know it.”

How many times throughout the years had Aelinor wondered the same thing. This was as close as her mother had ever come to just flat out admitting the truth. Daemon Targaryen was her father. She knew it, he knew it, Baela and Rhaena almost certainly knew it. She did not think Jace and Luc were aware, and she wanted to keep it that way. It had not been Daemon Targaryen who had bandaged her bruised knees, who had taken her for her first dragonflight atop Seasmoke. No, that was her true father, a man now nine years in his grave.

But she knew her mother longed for them all to be a family. And she would not jeopardize that for anything. No matter what she suspected, family was the most important thing in the world to her, and she knew Daemon would kill for her mother, possibly even for her and her brothers.

“So long as he is good to you, Mother.” She smiled. “Now, should I begin getting ready?”

Rhaenyra looked as if she wanted to say more, but nodded. “Yes, we should all get ready. I’ll rouse the boys, and I’ll have a maid bring your dress to you.”

“No options for today?” Aelinor asked, recalling the dresses she had tried on for the ball the day before.

Rhaenyra shook her head, giving her daughter’s hand one extra tight squeeze. “It brings me heart, Daughter, to hear you speak of standing together.”

“Of course, Mother.” Aelinor nodded, dropping her mother’s hand. “I am with you, always. Now, you can rouse Luc. Because I love you so, I shall attempt to awaken the beast that is Jace.”

Rhaenyra laughed. “Then I wish you luck. I don’t think he returned to his chambers until well past midnight.”

“I think it was practically morning.” Aelinor forced a laugh. “But I’ll get him. And we shall all make ourselves presentable for you.”

Aelinor waited until her mother was gone before hurrying to Jace’s door, not even knocking before pushing her way inside.

“Jace?” She hissed. “Are you awake?”

The shape on the bed groaned, so she moved to the window and threw open the curtains. “Let me see. We need to be presentable and I need to see how bad it is.”

Jace protested loudly at the light, pushing himself into a sitting position. Aelinor sat on the edge of his mattress, watching as he stretched both of his arms. He was shirtless, his pale skin unmarred except for a ring of dark bruises around the base of his neck. Bruises that Aemond had put there.

Aelinor clucked her tongue, reaching out to touch the edge of a bruise. “Does it hurt terribly? should I fetch something?”

“It’s fine,” Jace sighed. “My tunic should cover it.”

“And your arm?” She asked worriedly. “I could call a maester.”

“No, I…” Jace blinked sleep from his eyes and studied her. “Gods, Aelinor, why are you fretting so much?”

She punched his leg through the blanket. “Because you’re my brother and you’re hurt, you idiot. Am I not allowed to be worried? Besides, it’s my—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s your fault.” Jace interrupted her.

“You said that last night?”

“Did I?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’d had a bit to drink. I should never have made you think that this was your fault. This was only Aemond’s doing. No one else’s. Which means you don’t need to be such a mother hen.”

Aelinor sighed. “I just…there has to be more to it, Jace. If I just talked to him.”

“He’s dangerous,” Jace protested. “Do you not see these bruises? This probably would have broken your neck.”

She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t that strong, and I’m not made of glass. Besides, Aemond would never hurt me.”

“Aelinor.”

“Jacaerys.” She crossed her arms.

They stared at each other for a long moment, before he threw himself back into his pillows. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m right,” She stood, grabbing the covers and dragging them off of him. “This entire thing is supposed to be about bringing the family together. I’m not just going to stop talking to my best friend.”

“Your best friend?” Jace clawed the covers back. “Does he know that that’s what he is? Your friend?”

Aelinor groaned. “Obviously it’s more than that, Jace. Either way, I shall speak with him and find out what reason he had for attacking you. I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding.”

“And I’m sure that the only reason I’m alive is because I’m your brother,” Jace said. “If anyone else had insulted you, he probably would’ve fed them to Vhagar.”

Aelinor faked a gasp. “Are you saying you wouldn’t feed someone to Vermax to defend my honor?”

“Obviously I would,” Jace managed to wrestle the blankets out of her grip. “I would just be more diplomatic about it.”

“So you say,” She laughed. “Just leave it to me, Jace. I’ll sort out this mess. Now, get ready before Mother’s nerves give out.”

She stepped out into the hallway, nearly running into the maid coming from her room. “Your gown is inside, Princess. Will you require assistance dressing?”

Aelinor shook her head. “I’ll shout if I need help with the laces.”

“Certainly, Princess.”

She was just about to step into her room when the door next to hers opened. “Aelinor?”

“What is it, Luc?” She stopped in the doorway.

Her younger brother stepped out of his room, already dressed in his tunic, though he wore mismatched boots. “Which ones should I wear? These ones make me look taller, but these—”

“You don’t need to get any taller, Luc.” She laughed. “I already have to look up at you.”

“That’s because you forgot to grow,” He responded with an old joke, one she used to make all the time before he caught up to her in height. “But alright. Are you not ready?”

“I will get dressed now,” She stepped over to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry, Little Tidemaster. Everything will go well.”

He batted her hand away, and she was chuckling when she closed her bedroom door behind her.

She would be lying if she said that she was truly confident about this hearing. Since she had been at court, little more than two days, she had heard nothing but rumors of Lucerys’ parentage, which she knew had likely been spread by the Queen. There was every possibility that this trial was simply a chance for Queen Alicent to weaken Rhaenyra’s claim on the throne through her children.

But, it was a settled succession, and even with the Sea Snake’s injury there could be no good reason to challenge it that did not constitute treason. She just had to pray that everyone stuck to their own honor, and all would be well.

Her mother’s vision for a united family became clear when she saw the gown laid out on her bed. She changed quickly, slipping into the fitted black gown and managing to adjust the laces on her own. The dress was made of a thick material with embroidered dragon scales dotting the shoulders. It clung tightly to her hips before spilling out into a wider skirt, and the neckline fell wide on her collar bones. The sleeves were a deep Targaryen red, hanging nearly to her knees. At least she would not have to wear gloves with this gown, and her mother had not provided her with any.

She was running a brush through her hair when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in, Luc!” She called. “I’m nearly done!”

The door opened, but it wasn’t Luc who stepped inside.

“Prince Daemon,” She turned quickly, dropping the brush on her bed. “Is something the matter?”

The Prince was already dressed, Dark Sister hanging at his side, and he had both hands resting on the pommel as he stepped into her room, closing the door behind him. In nine years, Aelinor could not recall ever being alone with him like this. With her father.

He studied her for a long moment, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “You’re ready, then?”

“I am.” She clasped her hands in front of her, noting how his gaze caught on her injured hand, She resisted the urge to hide it in her sleeve. “May I help you with something?”

He walked slowly around the room, examining the few meager possessions that she had unpacked. “Today is a very important day for your mother and brother.”

“I know that.” She said, turning as he moved. “And I shall do whatever necessary to help them assert their claims.”

“Will you?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I spoke to your mother this morning. She told me of your…conversation.”

Aelinor crossed her arms. “Give me some credit, Prince Daemon. Whatever point you are trying to make, make it.”

He stopped, his fingers tapping against the pommel of his sword. “You do not call me Father.”

“No, I do not.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to?” She scoffed, unable to believe that he was the sentimental type.

He tilted his head, considering it. “It would make your mother happy.”

“And I place my mother’s happiness above all else, except in this.” Aelinor said. “Or are we to pretend you were thinking of my happiness, or Luc or Jace’s, when you murdered the man who had raised us.”

Daemon’s lips curled upwards. “There it is. I knew my daughter was in there somewhere.”

“You have two other daughters, Prince Daemon .” Aelinor glared at him. “I think I have made it exceedingly clear how I feel about you. Now, I ask again. What do you want?”

She did not like how he studied her. Her father — because denying that he was her blood was fruitless — often reminded her of a dragon about to seize its prey. He was still, deathly so, and yet his eyes took everything in with frightening speed. And now that focus was trained on her. It should have been terrifying, but some part of her recognized herself in his gaze, and so she stood her ground.

Finally, he reached into the pocket of his tunic. “I have something for you.”

She blinked. “For me?”

“Did you not understand me the first time?” He held out a hand. “Here.”

Against her better judgement, Aelinor held out her hand, letting him drop a small metal object into her palm. It was surprisingly heavy, but when she held it close to her face, she found it to be nothing more than a hair bauble.

“A hairpin?” She said incredulously. Prince Daemon did not seem the type to give frivolous gifts, and yet that was what this was. She lifted it between two fingers. The metal was a steely silver, with the circle of the pin cast with small dragon scales, and the pin itself sharp as a dagger on one end, and shaped as a dragon’s head on the other, with a deep red gem inset as the eye. It was finely made, that was true, but it was still a hairpin.

“Why have you given me this?” She knew it was rude not to thank him, but she found the entire thing so out of character that it was unsettling.

He was quiet again, considering his words before he spoke. “It’s Valyrian steel. That particular piece came over with the Conqueror. If the rumors are to be believed, it was worn by Queen Rhaenys herself.”

“Truly?” Aelinor gasped, holding it up the light. “It is extraordinary.” Lowering it slightly, she looked at her father. “Why?”

There were a thousand questions wrapped up in that one. Why now? Why this? Have you suddenly decided to try and be a father to me?

“It belonged to my mother.” Daemon said finally. “And it should belong to my eldest daughter.”

Her lips parted, something like warmth flooding through her. Princess Alyssa was spoken of like a god in their household, the beloved mother of King Viserys and Prince Daemon who had reportedly been a figure of light and love. To be gifted something of hers…Aelinor was without words.

“I…thank you.” She said quietly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Daemon said, gripping his sword with one hand. “Wear it. Today. Let everyone see that ours is the line of Old Valyria. Wear it for your mother.”

Aelinor nodded. “I shall.”

Prince Daemon gave a curt nod, and then left without a word.

Aelinor closed her palm of the pin, feeling the metal bite into her skin as she pressed. The pin was sharp enough to puncture flesh. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine this same metal in the hands of Princess Alyssa, or even Queen Rhaenys at the time of the Conquest. She wanted to feel some part of her ancestry sing into her blood through the cold steel.

But at the end, she felt only empty metal, and the only meaning it carried was that of the man who had given it to her. Complicated. Unyielding.

Moving to the large mirror in her chamber, Aelinor swept half of her hair up and away from her face, securing it at the back of her head with the pin. When she turned, the ruby eye glinted through her silver hair.

She searched for her mother’s face in her reflection, for some hint of familiarity. But the more she looked, the more she settled on just how much she looked like her father. What use was it denying that which was so obvious?

“Aelinor?” Her bedroom door crept open. “Are you ready?”

She sighed, turning to Luc with a smile. “Well, heir to Driftmark? Will I do?”

“Aelinor, you…” He stepped inside, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “You look like a princess.”

“Don’t I always?” She teased.

“Of course you do,” He bumped her to the side as they started to walk out of the room. “I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. “She sighed. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

********************************************************

As if the entire ordeal weren’t enough of an insult, Princess Rhaenyra and her family were expected to wait in the corridor outside the throne room until it was time for them to be heard. They were forced to stand outside, watching as throngs of nobles made their way into the room ahead of them. Already Aelinor felt a sense of dread building. Whether they achieved the desired result or not, this would be a spectacle. Her family would become a spectacle.

It was enough to have her picking loose threads out of her gown in nervousness.

“You’re going to ruin your beautiful gown, cousin.” Rhaena said.

Aelinor sighed, looking up at her two cousins. “Sorry. I suppose my nerves are getting the better of me.”

Baela reached out to give her arm a squeeze. “With the news of the engagement, surely things must go our way. You should not be so worried.”

“I would not trust that the Hand or the Queen will take your betrothals as enough.” Aelinor said. “They’ve been waiting for this day a long time.”

They all looked to where their parents stood, Rhaenyra pacing back and forth and Daemon tracking her with his eyes, his expression unreadable. She sometimes wondered if Baela and Rhaena knew the truth of her parentage, that her existence meant that their father had been unfaithful to their mother. Sometimes she thought Baela might know, often making a comment about their sisterhood in such a way as to make Aelinor think she knew the truth, but she had not spent enough time with Rhaena to glean whether she knew as well. She did not think either of them would hold it against her, but she also did not want to throw their peculiar family even more out of sorts.

“Speaking of the betrothals,” She said quietly. “My congratulations to you both. I did not have a chance to speak with you last evening.”

“Thank you, Cousin.” Rhaena smiled, but Baela gave Aelinor a look of regret, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“I am sorry, Aelinor, that it happened that way.” She apologized. “I did not—”

Aelinor shook her head. “I’ve heard enough apologies from my mother, and I know no one wanted me to be surprised in that way. Jace and I were not suited, and I can bear a little court gossip if it guarantees you your happiness.”

She meant it. She loved her cousins, and she loved her brothers, and she truly thought that they were all well matched. If that announcement had come in the form of a breakfast declaration or an intimate family gathering, she likely would have been the first to rejoice. It was only the unfamiliar setting of the ball, and the strangers surrounding her that had dulled her enthusiasm. After having slept on it, she truly was brimming with happiness for her family.

“Think,” Baela grinned. “Now we shall all be sisters.”

They shared a knowing grin, before schooling their faces into something more dignified as more nobles flooded past.

“I’m going to go wait over there,” Aelinor pointed around the corner, where she would be out of view of her family.

“Why?” Rhaena asked. “Hiding from us?”

“Hardly,” Aelinor laughed. “I’m just…waiting for someone.”

The girls let her go, and she stepped around the corner and took a deep breath. She did not want to enter this trial without speaking to Aemond, without getting to the truth of what had happened the night before. Despite what Jace said, she knew that there had to be more to it than a simple insult. There had to be.

Her prayers were answered when Aemond strode around the corner, alone and unaccompanied. His eye settled on her and he nearly skipped a step, before catching himself. She could not read the expression on his face, his lips pressed tightly together and his jaw clenched.

“Aemond,” She said quietly, aware that her family would be able to hear if she spoke any louder. “You’re early.”

“Yes, well.” He clasped both hands behind his back. “What of it?”

Ignoring his curt tone, Aelinor gave him a little smile. He had come early to speak with her, she knew it.

“Is everything alright?” She asked. “Jace came back last night and said—”

“What did he say?” Aemond asked quickly, his eyes meeting hers like a clash of swords.

Aelinor swallowed. “He said that you attacked him. That it had something to do with my honor. But I know that cannot be true.”

Aemond didn’t respond.

“And now he thinks you’re dangerous,” She said. “But you must tell me the truth, so that I can fix this. Had you had too much to drink? Or perhaps—”

“Perhaps what?” Aemond lifted his chin. “Tell me, Lina, what excuse would justify my beating your brother in the dark of the night.”

Aelinor flinched back at his tone, and something in his face softened. “I just…I just want to know, Aemond.”

“And what…” Aemond’s voice was tight, as if he were speaking without breathing. “What if it was for your honor? What if I decided that he had insulted you enough for one evening, and that I would not stand for it? What then?”

She shook her head. “What do you mean, Aemond? I felt no insult.”

“No?” He stepped closer, and she moved away, her back pressing against the cold stone. “You are too generous, then. I am afraid that I am not so willing as to forgive a slight against you.”

“How was I slighted, Aemond?” She demanded. “The announcement was a shock, but it’s not as if Jace stood in front of the court and declared me defective! I am happy for my family. Truly, I am. I was simply unsettled from the crowd and there being so many unfamiliar faces.”

She reached out her hand and touched his upper arm. “I swear, Aemond.”

His jaw ticked. “I don’t believe you. You spoke of returning to Dragonstone. Of fleeing. Because of what they did! You’ve only just returned, how was I to—”

“So Jace was right then?” She asked. “You truly attacked him over me? You hurt my brother?”

“I let him walk away because he was your brother.” Aemond said. “But what of it, Aelinor? Now that you know what I would do for your honor, are you done? Shall you listen to him? Am I too dangerous? Am I a monster?”

Aelinor was shaking her head, trying to understand where this was coming from. “No. No! Aemond. Of course you aren’t a monster! Whoever said that you were?”

He did not answer.

“Aemond, please,” She leaned forward and whispered. “I shall never, ever turn my back on you. You know this. We…we understand each other, don’t we?” She recalled his words the night before, when he had shown her his eye, shouting that he understood her. How could he not tell that it was the same for her?

“Just…let me in.” She begged. “Something has made you unhappy, and I—”

“Brother!” Aegon’s voice carried down the hall, and Aemond jerked out of her grasp. Without looking back, Aemond walked toward his family.

She wanted to go after him, wanted to chase him and demand that he confide in her like he used to. She still did not believe that she had the full story, and she needed to know who had ever told him that he was a monster. That was…that was too cruel to even imagine.

But a hand grabbed her elbow, and then Rhaena was at her side. “Come, Cousin. It is time.”

So with one last longing look over her shoulder, Aelinor went to stand before the Iron Throne.

*****************************************

Aemond wouldn’t look at her.

It felt like she was nine years old again, standing across from him at Laena Velaryon’s funeral, with him refusing to meet her eyes and her forced to just stand there in dignified silence. Except instead of a funeral on Driftmark, this was a petition before the Iron Throne. And Aelinor wasn’t a child anymore. She understood what the stakes were, and she was determined not to fail Lucerys and her mother.

Keeping her back ramrod straight, she stood at Luc’s side as Ser Vaemond made his petition. Across the way, Alicent stood with her children, all of them looking as if they’d been forced to attend. Aegon was openly yawning and Helaena, who had once been as close to her as a sister, was huddled at his side, as timid as a mouse. Aemond had kept one shoulder angled her way throughout the entire ordeal, as close to turning his back on her as he could come.

All things considered, Ser Vaemond’s case was surprisingly restrained. There were no flying accusations, only a general plea for the preservation of the Velaryon name. Aelinor had imagined hurled insults, perhaps some thinly veiled threats. But it seemed that they were not entirely doomed.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now make your case for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.” Otto Hightower spoke down at them from the throne.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her face composed. Only Aelinor saw the way her hands shook, the only evidence of just how frightened her mother was.

“If I must grace this farce with an answer, I will begin by—”

The doors at the back of the hall opened. Two hundred heads turned toward it, to the two guards swinging apart the massive doors, and to the small man who stood there.

A strangled sound escaped Aelinor’s mouth.

“The King!” One of the guards shouted.

It was her grandfather. Frail, feeble, shuffling forward as if every step pained him, it was King Viserys. A gold mask covered half of his face — the half that she had seen bandaged the night before — and his golden crown rested on his head.

She turned, watching Otto Hightower stumble down from the throne. The Queen’s face was pale as a ghost, one hand held to her chest.

Aelinor let her eyes drift to the side, where she caught Aemond’s gaze. He must have seen something in her eyes, something that moved him, for her gave her a small nod, his mouth tightening in what might have been a smile. But then his gaze was back on the King, following the sea of people as they bowed in his wake.

Sometimes she forgot that Viserys was Aemond’s father too. He had so rarely spoken of him, being raised much more closely by Queen Alicent, learning the types of things only boys could teach from Ser Criston Cole or his older brother. But she wondered if he too felt this shuttering in his heart, seeing the head of their family rise again.

Aelinor dropped before her grandfather reached her, her curtsy taking her down to the floor. The charcoal skirts pooked around her, her chin dipping low as she felt her family follow in her wake. Only when the edges of his cloak had moved past did she rise, watching as her grandfather reached the foot of his throne.

He turned and said something to Otto Hightower, something that had the Hand nodding shakily, and then he started to climb.

Aelinor wanted to run forward, wanted to take his arm and help him as he struggled, but she knew it was not her place. Instead she knotted her sleeves in her firsts, swallowing her cry as he stumbled and his crown clattered to the floor.

But then someone else was there. Prince Daemon. Her father. The King’s brother. And with surprising tenderness, Prince Daemon helped his brother to his seat, before kneeling and setting the crown back atop his head. As he descended the steps, she shared a look with her father, dipping her chin slightly

Silence hung in the air for a long moment, broken only by the King’s labored breathing.

“I must admit…my confusion.” The King said suddenly. “I had thought this matter settled. But surely the only person who can shed some light on the wishes of Lord Corlys…is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The Princess Rhaenys stepped forward, bowing to the King. “My husband has never wavered in his desire to be succeeded by our grandson, Prince Lucerys, and I have ever supported him. Additionally, Princess Rhaenyra and I have just announced the betrothal of her sons, Lucerys and Jacaerys, to my granddaughters, Baela and Rheana, an agreement which we have heartily accepted.”

Aelinor saw the Queen look at the ground, and resisted the urge to grin.

“Well, then the matter is settled, again.” The King spoke slowly. “I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys Velaryon as heir to Driftmark and the Driftwood Throne.”

Aelinor turned to Luc, offering him a smile. They had done it, it was settled. She saw his expression melt in relief.

“You break law, and centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond stepped forward, outrage on his face. “But you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon? No. I will not allow it.”

Aelinor tensed, feeling the room collectively hold his breath. What was he doing? Had the fool gone mad?

“Allow it?” The King hissed. “Do not not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Let that be it . Aelinor prayed. Please, please let this be it .

But alas, Vaemond did not listen to her prayers.

“That!” He shouted, whirling to point at Luc. “Is no true Velaryon!”

Aelinor stepped forward, pushing Luc behind her. He did not have to stand here and take this abuse, and she was better equipped to handle the fury rolling off their uncle. Over Vaemond’s shoulder, she saw Aemond jerk forward.

“And certainly no nephew of mine.” Vaemond continued.

“Go to your chambers, you have said enough.” Rhaenyra muttered.

But Vaemond remained, his gaze leveled on Aelinor, at the boy who was too tall to hide behind her. Luc’s hand gripped her wrist, and she thought he might be preparing to pull her behind him. What a funny pair they were, an older sister with her big little brother, both of them fighting to protect the other.

Vaemond was still talking. Still ranting, lost completely to madness.

“And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on account of this—” He caught himself.

Aelinor lifted her chin at the same moment she heard her father whisper ‘Say it.”

Vaemond cast his gaze over all of them, presumably deciding whether these were to be his final words. Aelinor saw the exact moment that he chose to accept his fate.

“Her children….” He began. “Are Bastards!”

Everyone gasped.

“And she…and her daughter…are whores.” Vaemond turned to the King, his challenge clear.

Viserys struggled to his feet, drawing a catspaw dagger. “I will have your tongue for that.”

Aelinor was not sure where it came from. One moment she was staring up at her grandfather, waiting for him to declare Vaemond’s life forfeit, and the next there was an unfamiliar whistle through the air, and Daemon’s sword cleaved Vaemond’s head clear in half.

Aelinor jerked back, finding Luc’s arms around her as he pulled her away. She saw Helaena cover her ears, everyone flinching away as the blood sprayed across the marble. Aemond’s hand was on his waist, to where his own sword hung, and she saw the question in his searching look. Are you alright?

She nodded quickly, shrugging out of Luc’s arms, yet staying pressed to his side.

“He can keep his tongue.” Daemon declared, satisfied.

“Seize him!” Otto Hightower cried.

“There is no need.” Daemon sheathed his sword, stepping away from the body.

Alicent stepped forward, her nose wrinkling as she dodged the top of Vaemond’s skull. “There is every need. To bring this kind of…this kind of savagery into this hall. How dare—”

“Enough!” The King shouted, the power in his voice shocking everyone into silence. “This stops now. This ends today.”

“Father?” Rhaenyra said quietly.

“My King?” Alicent turned, both of them standing at the foot of his throne, staring up at him.

Aelinor looked up too, her mouth parting when she found her grandfather’s gaze trained on her. Confusion crinkled her brow, and she did not find her answer before he looked away and addressed the room.

“I have one last announcement,” He declared. “One which shall benefit our House, and the Seven Kingdoms, in blood and in name.” His breathing was quickening, every word a struggle.

“Your Grace?” Alicent was climbing the steps now, concern coloring her voice.

“I announce the betrothal of my granddaughter, Princess Aelinor Velaryon!” The King shouted.

Her mouth dropped open, and she met Aemond’s gaze, seeing horror flooding his face. This could not be happening. Who could she possibly marry? Her grandfather was sick, his mind addled with pain, and yet he would betroth her to…to…

“To my son, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

The hall descended into chaos.

QUESTION: Do you think Aelinor chooses Team Green or Team Black? I'd love to hear your guesses.

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #game of thrones #lady of the ashes #aemond one eye #daemon targaryen

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 7

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 3931

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Bit of a shorter chapter (it was always supposed to be) before we get into the craziness of the next chapter! Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

The ball continued into the early hours of the morning, until the majority of guests had retired to their rooms, and those lacking in common sense, including Aegon, were sprawled on the remaining chairs and tables, lost to their cups.

Aemond waited at the edge of the room, watching as every guest slowly made their way out. Aelinor left early, escorting her weary mother back to their chambers. He wished to speak with, needed to speak with her about what had happened, but he knew that Aelinor had been exhausted by the night’s events. Besides, he had more important things to do.

Lucerys left the room shortly after midnight, the Queen only a few minutes later with Helaena at her side. Jacaerys remained dancing with his betrothed until nearly two hours past midnight, when Baela retired as well. Aemond was surprised to see Jacaerys begin to make rounds of the room, holding the same glass of wine yet sharing a sip with every lord or lady who had lingered. The bastard was politicking, rather well if Aemond was forced to admit the truth. No matter how drunk these lords might be, they would not forget clinking their goblets against that of a future king.

But Aemond didn’t give a shit about politics.

He didn’t care what his mother would do if she knew what he was doing. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he was planning to do. All he knew was that he intended to right a wrong, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way.

Jacaerys eventually set his empty cup on a servant’s tray, and left the room by himself. Aemond waited only a moment before following him out.

The corridors were lit only by a few torches at this hour, empty except for the echoing sound of their footsteps. Not even the servants were about at this time of night, and anyone sensible would be sound asleep in their beds, preparing for the petition to be heard on the morrow. Everyone in court would be expected to attend, regardless of how much they had drunk the night before. Nor would anyone want to miss the event.

Jacaerys turned a corner, heading down one of the shortcuts that led to the Princess Rhaenyra’s chambers. Aelinor was there now, probably sound asleep in her bed. Aemond tried not to dwell too much on what she may look like, sprawled on her pillows with her hair wrapped around her like spider silk. Probably sleeping peacefully, probably already having decided to forgive her mother and brothers for the insult they had afforded her. But Aemond was not so generous.

If Aelinor knew what he was doing, she would be furious with him. He knew it, nor could he pretend to be so aloof as to not care. But for nine years he had wallowed in the memory of letting those bastards walk all over him, humiliate and maim him, and he would be damned if he let them do the same to Aelinor.

Jacaerys turned one more corner, this corridor lit by the silver moonlight shining through the windows, and Aemond made his move. He caught up to Jacaerys in a few steps, grabbing the boy by the back of his collar and slamming him against the wall. Before Jacaerys could even react, Aemond had his forearm pressed against his throat.

“Nephew,” he hissed.

Jacaerys coughed. “Uncle. I knew someone was following me.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have wandered down unoccupied corridors.” Aemond drew back, slamming the boy into the wall with renewed force. Jacaerys let out a strangled cry, breathing heavily.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jacaerys demanded. “How dare you?”

“How dare I? How dare I ?” Aemond pressed hard on his nephew’s throat, enough that he knew it would leave bruises. “You think you can levy an insult of that magnitude, and it will not be answered. You thought I would not answer it?”

“What insult?” Jacaerys dug his fingernails into Aemond’s arm, trying to push him off with surprising force. Aemond might have been impressed, as if it weren’t for the leverage and the blows he had already dealt, his nephew might have succeeded. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? Think hard, Nephew, else I might see fit to take things into my own hands.”

“I have done nothing to you!”

“Not to me!” Aemond roared, tossing Jacaerys to the floor. He landed awkwardly on his arm, the limb buckling beneath him when he tried to stand.

“You’re mad!” Jacaerys protested. “This will be answered.”

Aemond kicked, striking Jacaerys’ leg and causing the boy to scramble back. “You dare stand in front of the court and insult her, and then spend the rest of your night in revelry. And you thought that I would stand for this?”

“Her? Who is…” Understanding dawned in Jacaerys’ expression, and he climbed to his feet. “Is this about Aelinor?”

Aemond stalked forward.

“It is, isn’t it?” Jacaerys shook his head. “Aemond, I don’t know what you’re imagining, but I did not insult Aelinor.”

“No? Then you did not announce your betrothal to someone else, and then leave your sister to face the speculations of the court as to why you might have rejected her? Tell me, Nephew, how that is not an insult.”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened. “Surely…Oh but Aelinor knows better than to listen to court drivel. Besides, she did not want to marry me.”

Aemond knew this, had gleaned as much from his conversations with Aelinor, and yet it did not completely soothe his fury.

“And I did not want to marry her!” Jacaerys should have shut his mouth when he had the chance.

Aemond lunged, managing to catch his nephew by the arm and slam him into the wall. With surprising agility Jacaerys managed to spin away from his fist, stumbling out of Aemond’s reach.

“You are completely mad.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Yes . Aemond thought, Yes, I am going to cut out your tongue for how you’ve treated your sister. For saying that you did not want to marry her .

But instead he drew his fist back to his side, taking a deep breath. “I know what you are, Jacaerys Velaryon. And if you think I would stand for someone like you to speak ill of Aelinor, then you are an even greater fool than I originally believed.”

Jacaerys was holding his elbow, wincing in pain, but he still stood straighter and faced his uncle. “And you think you deserve her? Is that it then? You think Aelinor would ever settle for a monster like you?”

It took every fiber of strength in Aemond’s being for him not to bash his nephew’s head on the concrete. Jacaerys must have seen something in his eyes that frightened him, for he turned and hurried down the hallway, leaving Aemond standing by himself.

A monster. That’s what he was. That’s what everyone in this castle thought he was, and it was only because Aelinor had returned that he had forgotten it at all. Well, he would not forget it again.

*********************************************************

Aelinor could not fall asleep. Though she had been exhausted after the long night, and she knew that the next day would be as if not more eventful, she could not put her mind at rest.

She had spoken with her mother upon returning to the chambers, where her mother had apologized profusely for not warning her of her brothers’ betrothal announcements. The Princess Rhaenys had been slow to accept Rhaenyra’s offer, and upon accepting had insisted that it be announced prior to the petition hearing the next day. Rhaenyra had held her daughter close and apologized for not telling her, but Aelinor had already forgiven her.

The evening had been a larger ordeal than she had expected, a gathering of more people than Aelinor could ever remember seeing in one place. It had been difficult to feel herself becoming a topic of conversation, which had caused her to flee. But she did not begrudge her brothers their news, nor was she angry with her mother. The announcement was a good one, and it had only been a little shock at an inopportune time.

She only wished that she had maintained her composure a bit more, so that Aemond had not seen her nearly in hysterics, hiding in the servants hall like a child. She was embarrassed, upset that her emotions had caused him so much distress. She had seen in that hall, practically simmering with rage, and she should have kept her head about her. Instead she had rambled about returning to Dragonstone, about who knows what else, and he had stood there through all of it.

But then, he had also removed his eyepatch, showing her such a catastrophic glimpse into himself that she wasn’t sure she would ever recover. That day on Driftmark nine years ago, the last time they had seen each other, had been burned in her memory. There wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t recall how it felt to curl up next to him on his sickbed, mourning the loss of his eye and the loss of each other. She remembered ripping the pendant from her neck, from where it had hung every day for five years prior, and pressing it into his hand. It had been her most treasured position, but even at nine years old, she had known that nothing was more important to her than Aemond.

He had set the stone into his eye.

Every day when he looked in the mirror, he saw her sapphire. She didn’t want to linger on what that might mean.

But her mind raced anyway, and thus she was awake at three hours past midnight, fetching herself a cup of water and debating whether to ring for tea. The parlor in her mother’s chambers was abandoned at this hour, the entire room lit only by silver moonlight and the dying embers of the fire. There was a chill in the air, and Aelinor clutched her dressing gown closer to her body as she stepped out into the cool room.

She had only just found the pitcher and started pouring when the door opened and Jace stumbled in.

“Are you only just getting back now?” She snorted, watching him trip and collapse on the couch. “How much did you drink?”

He just groaned in response.

Aelinor took her cup and walked over to him. “Come, you must drink this. Mother will have your head if you’re ill tomorrow.”

Jace reached for the cup, before wincing and groaning loudly. He almost sounded as if he were in pain.

“Jace?” Aelinor set the cup on the table and leaned closer. “What…what has happened to you?”

Her elder brother was cradling his arm to his chest, his head thrown back and a ring of bruises around his throat. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run all the way back from the banquet hall.

“Did you get in some kind of drunken brawl?” She demanded, dropping onto the couch next to him. “Good gods, Jace. We’re supposed to be on our best behavior.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jace winced. “This is your fault.”

“My fault? How could it be my fault? I’ve been in bed.” She lifted her hand, tracing the bruises carefully with her fingertips. If they looked this badly in the near-dark, she didn’t want to see what they would look like in the morning.

“He was apparently defending your honor,” Jace sighed. “Or something like that. I didn’t quite catch it all what with him trying to bash my head into the floor.”

“Defending my…” Aelinor blinked. “Are you talking about Aemond? What happened?”

Jace reached with his good arm for the cup of water, taking a large gulp before speaking. “Your pet decided that I had wronged you with my betrothal announcement, and decided to put me in my place by stalking me through the halls like an animal.”

“He isn’t my pet,” Aelinor chided. “But what? He just…attacked you?”

“From behind!” Jace cried. “And fuck…I don’t even know if I’ll be able to move my arm tomorrow.”

Aelinor was stricken. She had known that Aemond was angry over the announcement at the ball, as he had barely concealed his rage from her, but for him to attack Jace was…it was out of character. Or was it? As she kept being reminded, she didn’t know Aemond as well as she thought she did. She hadn’t known him in nearly nine years. But attacking her brother from behind seemed unchivalrous, and unlike the Aemond who had served her wine at a moonlit dinner in the library.

“Are you sure it was about me?” She asked quietly.

“Yes!” Jace exclaimed. “He said you were upset and that he…oh wait, fuck, Aelinor. Were you upset? I swear, I only found out a few minutes before mother made the announcement, and I would have told you if I could.”

“I know, I—”

“And anyways, I thought we were in agreement that we did not wish to marry each other. I never wanted to hurt you. I just—”

“Jace, I know.” Aelinor cut him off. “I spoke to Mother, and I know you would have told me if you could. And I promise, I do not have nor have I ever held any interest in marrying you.”

Jace breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank the gods. When Aemond said you were upset I thought you might have changed your mind.”

“I most certainly have not.”

“And I’m grateful for it, Sister.”

“As you should be. You’re much better suited to Baela.”

Jace smiled. “I hope I am. Anyway, I told Aemond that I had no interest in marrying you, and I thought he might try to kill me for it. When I was sure that was what he wanted to hear, but he was lost to madness.”

“He’s not mad.” Aelinor said quickly. “He was just angry.”

“Which I would have understood if it was just about you being upset,” Jace said. “Were you really that distraught by it all, Aelinor? I never wanted it to happen like that.”

With a sigh, Aelinor reached out and patted her brother’s leg. “It wasn’t the announcement, It was just…a big change, and everyone was talking about it, and they were all looking at me and it was a lot for me to process. Aemond was there with me, though, and helped me get away and collect myself. I’m sure he was just worried over me. But I will speak to him, make him apologize.”

Jace shook his head. “I wouldn’t make him apologize for defending your honor, Aelinor, but I do not think you should see or speak to him again.”

“What?” She recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s dangerous.”

“He’s Aemond.”

“He hunted me through the halls and tried to beat me against a wall.”

“He was angry! I’ll speak to him.”

“No! No, Aelinor,” Jace said firmly. “You weren’t there. He…he was like a monster, Aelinor. And he’s obsessed with you.”

“I care for him as well.” She protested.

“Aemond does not care for you! It is obsession. He is violent and volatile, and I could not live with myself if I let my little sister be with such a man.”

“Be with?” Aelinor forced out a laugh. “I’m sure I don’t know—”

“Aelinor,” Jace reached out to grab her shoulder. “I don’t say this to frighten you, nor to hurt you. But Aemond wants you, and there is no way for this to end that does not result in you getting hurt. I cannot let that happen.”

Never speak to Aemond again? It was an impossible demand, and even now she was trying to rationalize why Aemond might have attacked Jace. Surely it could not have been just about her, surely something else had happened. There had to be another reason. Because Aemond…he was not the monster Jace was making him out to be. And yet, she knew that Jace would never lie to her.

“Please, Aelinor.” Jace implored. “I love you. I would never hurt you. And I cannot let him hurt you either.”

Aelinor swallowed, her mouth feeling dry as cotton. “I love you too. Of course I do.”

But she did not agree to his demands.

Jace nodded, something like acceptance flashing across his face. He knew as well as anyone that convincing Aelinor to stay away from Aemond was a fool’s errand, having spent the better part of his childhood trying to do that very thing. Now things were different, and yet somehow nothing had changed at all. Aelinor was a woman now, Aemond was either a man or a beast, and Jacaerys was her elder brother. He had a responsibility to her, to protect her. And Aelinor knew that, which was why she did not outright argue with him.

“I’m going to bed,” Jace groaned, standing from the couch. “Hopefully I have a tunic that will hide these bruises.”

“I have some face paint that may do the trick,” Aelinor said, remaining seated as he left. “Ask me in the morning.”

“I’ll be long dead before I let you use your face paint on me,” Jace leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not seven years old and you can’t treat me like one of your dolls anymore. Goodnight, Sister.”

“Goodnight.” She watched him disappear into his own room, limping into the darkness.

She needed to talk to Aemond, needed to understand what had happened to drive him to do something so foolish. If she did not have all the facts by the time her mother and Prince Daemon found out about the attack, then there was no telling what they might do.

But Jace had just asked her not to speak to Aemond, and she didn’t have it in her to disobey him so implicitly, directly after he’d asked her. She knew he only wanted the best for her, and though they might disagree on what that meant, she could not fault his intentions.

Even so, she needed out of these rooms. A walk would be just what she needed to put her mind at rest, and then she could come back, go to sleep and face the troubles of the world in the morning.

***********************************************

If anyone were to spot the Princess wandering the halls in her nightdress and dressing gown, there would have been quite the scandal. Luckily the majority of the castle, servants included, were still recovering from the festivities, and so she was able to traverse the corridors unimpeded.

Aelinor wasn’t sure what led her to a familiar set of oak doors, but her feets seemed to carry her there in record time. The door to the King’s chambers was propped open, likely to allow maesters to move freely without disturbing him. When Aelinor peeked in, she saw only a single figure propped on to the bed, a few fading candles, and an empty room.

This was a bad idea. She couldn’t think of anything more likely to land her in trouble than sneaking into the King’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, and yet she couldn’t help herself. Squeezing through the narrow opening in the door, she crept inside.

The air was thick with the smell of herbs and incense, a heavy black cloth draped over the window to keep out the moonlight. Moving through the dark space, her hip bumped into a table. When she reached out, she felt the familiar shape of her grandfather’s model of Old Valyria. Mouth falling open, she let her fingers drift over the figures until she landed on a particularly knobbly looking dragon model. She had made that. It had been one of her first projects when she was permitted to try using her hand again after the accident, and her grandfather had sat next to her for hours as she tried to carve a small replica of Dreamfyre. It had come out so horrible, and she had nearly cut herself so many times, that her grandfather had suggested that she try painting the figures instead. And she had. Even now, under layers of dust and cobwebs, she could see splashes of bright paint from where she had made her mark.

A moan came from the bed, and Aelinor turned quickly toward it. The King was moving, his head shaking from side to side as he groaned.

She crept forward, coming to stand directly by his bedside. “Grandfather?”

His eyes didn’t open, but he turned his face toward her.

Aelinor tried not to gasp. Her mother had spoken of Viserys’ deteriorating condition, but she could not have prepared herself for this. Half his face was wrapped in bandages, with rotted flesh peeking out from under the crisp white linen. What skin she could see was yellowed and sallow, marked by scars and pox. Someone had tucked the blankets up to his neck, and yet his body still shivered with chill.

A tear slid down her face as she gently leaned onto the side of the bed. “Grandfather? It’s me, Aelinor.”

He didn’t respond. She gently reached out a hand and placed it on the blanket above where she thought his hand might be. He was so fragile, so delicate. Her grandfather had always been so full of life, always quick to give her a smile or offer her a sweet if she were sad. How could such a man have been reduced to this?

“I’m sure my mother has already told you why we’ve returned.” She started speaking, not sure what she was trying to accomplish. She doubted he could hear her at all, let alone understand what she was saying. “But this place…it used to be my home, Grandfather. And now it’s nothing like I remembered.”

Viserys’ lips parted slightly, and she lifted a cloth from the bowl of water on the nightstand, gently patting a few drops of water into his mouth.

“Everyone is fighting,” she said quietly. “And I…I just wish things could be how they used to be. We must have all been friends once, right?”

Footsteps echoed from the hall, still a considerable distance away, and she sighed. “I know you do not wish to hear this. If there was something I could do to bring us all back together, I would.” She wiped at her face with her sleeve, surprised to see the fabric come away wet with tears.

“I would, Grandfather,” She swore. “I would do anything. Anything . Just so that we could all be happy again. So we could all be together again.”

There were voices in the hallway now, so she set the cloth back onto the table. “But I don’t think there’s anything I can do, Grandfather. Tomorrow is Ser Vaemond’s petition, and I just know it will make everything worse. No matter which way it goes.”

She stood, brushing out her dressing gown and turning to leave. The day to come would be a trying one, and she would need to get her rest. Not to mention, she needed to be gone before the maesters realized she had visited.

Propping one knee on the bed, Aelinor quickly leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to her grandfather’s cheek. Pulling away, she gave him one last longing look. “I so wish I could ask your advice, Grandfather. You would know what to do.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #lady of the ashes

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 6

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 4893

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

It was nearly noon when Aelinor awoke, the sun peeking through her curtains and disturbing her peace. She had lain awake for several hours after her night with Aemond, unable to think of anything else but him. How he had held her hand, how close they had been to kissing. It seemed almost childish to be thrown out of sorts by something as simple as a kiss, and yet she was unable to push it from her mind. Alas, when she had finally fallen asleep, it had been a deep one.

Someone was pounding on her door. “Aelinor! Mother wants you.”

It was Jace, and he took her answering groan as permission to enter the chamber. “Why are you still asleep?”

“I’m not asleep, am I?” She rolled over, wincing as she stretched her muscles. “What does Mother want?”

Jace poked her foot through the covers. “We need to begin getting ready for the festivities.”

“We?”

“Well, you do. You have to do your hair and…other things.” He looked genuinely baffled, like he couldn’t fathom what kinds of preparations a woman might have to do to get ready for a royal banquet and ball.

Aelinor heaved herself out of bed with a sigh, accepting the heavy dressing gown Jace handed her to cover her nightgown.

“Is she up yet?” Luc poked his head through the door. “Oh, good morning Aelinor. Or should I say afternoon?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, knotting the dressing gown at the waist.

“Why are you so tired?” Jace asked.

Aelinor shrugged. “Not used to the bed, I guess.”

“I, for one, found the bed and chambers quite comfortable.” Jace said, moving out of her way as they moved into the corridor. “Far less drafty than Dragonstone.”

She searched for an excuse in her sleep-addled brain, unable to come up with anything believable.

“We stayed up late playing cards,” Luc said. “Aelinor wouldn’t let us go to bed until she beat me.”

She thought her younger brother a grateful look, appreciating that he was covering for her.

“And did she?” Jace asked, believing the excuse.

“No, she gave up.” Luc laughed.

Aelinor yawned loudly. “You’re both impossible.”

They stepped into the main room of their family’s chambers, and were immediately met by a throng of people. Maids bustled to and fro, unpacking garments from bags, some already set up with needles and thread to make necessary alterations, and others opening boxes of jewels. Aelinor held her dressing gown a little tighter to her body.

“Aelinor!” Her mother was seated at the small breakfast table, watching two of the maids entertain the small children. “Are you just waking up now?”

“Yes, Mother. I feel rather like the walking dead this morning.”

“Why? Are you ill?” Rhaenyra reached out to touch her daughter’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

She shook her head. “I just stayed up too late.”

“Losing at cards.” Jace teased.

Rhaenyra smiled, squeezing Aelinor’s hand. “As long as you’re well. Did you have a good evening, card games aside?”

Aelinor hated lying to her mother. Part of her just wanted to tell her the truth, admit where she had been and who she was with. Her mother had always humored her more rebellious side, and likely wouldn’t be as furious as she was imagining. Not to mention, things would be infinitely worse if her mother found out from whoever had been spying on them in the library.

But still Aelinor was not able to admit everything. “I had a good evening. It’s nice to be back.”

“It is.” Rhaenyra agreed. “Now, we must begin getting you ready. Starting with that hair.” She teasingly pulled on a string of Aelinor’s tangled mane. She had gone to sleep without braiding it, and it was looking quite unkempt.

A maid was waved over, and Aelinor dropped into the seat opposite her mother, reaching for a half-empty plate of biscuits. She chewed slowly as the maid ran a brush through her hair, combatting the tangles one by one.

“The fashion seems to be to wear one’s hair up now,” She said absently. “Perhaps with some braiding throughout?”

Rhaenyra gave her a small smile. “I think it’s best that you wear your hair down, darling.”

“Why?” Aelinor couldn’t see how dancing all evening, getting all sweaty and letting the scent of smoke and cooked meats seep into her hair, could possibly be a good thing.

But then she saw her mother’s eyes dart toward the couch, where Jace was polishing a spot off one of his boots, and she understood. In this fight for her brother’s legitimacy, she was her mother’s best weapon, and her hair was the most obvious way to wield it.

“Unbraided, then.” She acquiesced.

Rhaenyra nodded. “Oh, but we have a circlet for you, darling. You will look beautiful.”

Aelinor offered her mother a sincere smile. It had been years since they had had the opportunity to prepare for an event of this size, and it reminded her of far simpler times.

“I assume you have a dress for me, as well. Can I see it?” She winced as the maid yanked on a stubborn knot behind her ear.

Rhaenyra grinned. “Even better, I have three. We shall have to try them on to see which suits best.”

“Good gods,” Lucerys threw his head back in complaint.

“And you boys shall remain here,” Rhaenyra said quickly. “To help your sister choose.”

Jace glared at his brother. “Is Driftmark worth this, Brother?”

*********************************************************

Aemond was called to his mother’s chambers only an hour before the ball. He had been awake with the dawn, throwing himself into training bouts to while away the time and distract his mind. The night with Aelinor had been more than he had ever dreamed of, and waking up just to remember that she was betrothed to Jacaerys of all people, and that he would have to attend this cursed ball in the evening was enough to drive him into a fury.

None of the visiting nobles were willing to spend the morning on the training grounds, and so he grabbed several young squires and put them through their paces while he worked through his rage. Afterwards, he had returned to his chambers to bathe and dress. The small box inside his writing desk just made him think of Aelinor, and so he had spent more time pacing the halls until Ser Criston came to summon him.

When he arrived at his mother’s chambers, he found it deathly quiet. His brother was reclined on the sofa, head thrown back and eyes closed. Helaena sat quietly at his side, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. His mother stood in front of the window, her fingers playing with the Star of the Seven that hung at her throat, worry lines creasing her face.

“Aemond,” she barely glanced his way when he walked in. “Where have you been?”

“Training,” He answered.

“Don’t you look nice,” Aegon slowly rolled his head to the side, eyes lazily scanning him from head to toe. “Did you oil your hair?”

Aemond resisted the urge to smooth his hair. He had, in fact, run some oil through it before pulling it back in his usual style. It was more effort than he would usually put it for a court function, but he had found himself overly concerned with preparing for this event. Even his clothing — a relatively simple green and black tunic and matching trousers — had been freshly washed and pressed.

“Anyone in particular you might be doing that for?” Aegon prodded.

Aemond stiffened. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

His mother dropped her hands, turning to stare at him. “Aemond, you cannot be serious. We spoke of Aelinor. She is not your friend.”

No, she was far more than a friend to Aemond, though he couldn’t blame his mother for trying to lessen it. He didn’t reply, just placed both hands behind his back and waited expectantly.

Alicent walked toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Aemond, she is betrothed. Rhaenyra has betrothed her to Jacaerys. Everyone knows it, and it has only to be formally announced. You must distance yourself before you are made a fool of.”

He already was a fool. There was no way he could distance himself, not now. And though each reminder that she was promised to Jace felt like a stab in the gut, he kept his face passive. “And what if she does not wish to marry Jacaerys?”

Alicent shook her head in exasperation. “And who would she marry, Aemond? You? Her mother would never tie her family to ours, and we must not tie ourselves to her’s.”

“Aren’t they our family?” Helaena spoke up suddenly, surprising all of them.

Alicent barely spared a glance to her daughter. “The only family we must concern ourselves with are those who live righteously, who honor the gods and the Seven Kingdoms with their actions. Us.”

Aemond bit his tongue. He did not disagree with his mother’s sentiment toward the Princess Rhaenyra, and her sons. They were bastards, and Rhaenyra, though she had been kind to him when he was young, had stood by Lucerys even when he cut out Aemond’s eye. Had not punished the boys when Aelinor was permanently maimed by a fire. He had no love for any of them.

He just considered Aelinor to be something different.

Aegon groaned loudly. “Can we just go? I don’t give a shit which bastards are marrying which whores, and—”

“What did you say?” Aemond demanded, crossing the room in a second. Aegon flinched back, pinned between the couch and his wife. Aemond itched to strike him, his hand curling into a fist.

“Aegon, that talk is beneath you.” Alicent said, though she did not correct it. “And Aemond, leave your brother be. The fool is drunk.”

Aemond sneered in disgust, able to smell the reek of ale off of his brother. His mother was right, Aegon was a fool.”

“The banquet will begin shortly,” Alicent said. “We must be there to receive the guests. And we are all expected to attend, and remain there, for the duration of the evening.”

From her tone, it was clear that there was nothing she wanted to do less than spend a night in revelry and celebration over the return of Princess Rhaenyra.

With exaggerated groans, Aegon peeled himself off the couch, stumbling out the door without waiting for his wife, who trailed meekly after him. Alicent caught Aemond’s arm before he could follow.

“I mean it, Aemond.” Alicent said quietly. “Remember who you are, and who she is.”

“I will, Mother.” He hesitated as he studied her face. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her complexion appeared more sallow than usual. “You don’t look well, Mother. Is there something wrong?”

She sighed, giving his shoulder a quick pat. “I did not sleep well. Your father…he was restless all night.”

How many years had it been, that Aemond watched his mother slowly waste away as she cared for his father, as she tried to hold the Kingdoms together? For the King to have an ill night was the last thing she needed, especially with their visitors and all the activity to come in the next few days.

He gave a curt nod. “Then I shall be on my best behavior. And I shall endeavor to keep Aegon contained as well.”

************************************************************

The banquet was in full swing by the time Aelinor made her way to the hall. The dress they had chosen had required a few alterations to fit, and so she had told her family to go on ahead. Now she was regretting that choice, as it meant she would be entering the room by herself, instead of as part of her mother’s house.

Perhaps she could sneak in. It was always possible that, if the festivities had begun in earnest, she might sneak through the doors and find her way to her mother’s side without anyone noticing her. But alas, when she rounded the corner, the doors to the hall were shut firmly, two guards stationed on either side.

Muttering a curse under her breath, she slowed to a walk, barely managing to compose herself before the doors were being heaved open and a loud voice was proclaiming “The Princess Aelinor Velaryon!”

Three hundred faces stopped to stare at her, and she found it a little hard to breathe. Stepping through the door, she tried to scan the crowd for a familiar face. There, seated at the front of the hall next to an empty seat, was Queen Alicent, with Lord Otto Hightower at her side. Neither of their expressions were particularly welcoming. She could not see her mother, not among the dozens of people paused on the floor, clearly having been in the middle of a dance, nor could she see her or any of her brothers at the long tables that framed the room. She was on her own.

With a deep breath, she clasped her skirt in both hands, the black silk of her skirt crumbling beneath her fingers as she dipped into a small curtsy. Enough to show respect for the Queen, but not so much as would be owed to the King. She rose without wobbling, and then descended the steps as quickly as she could manage. There seemed to be an awkward pause, before she heard the sharp note of a fiddle and the musicians resumed.

Keeping to the edge, she tried to pick her way past the dancers as she searched for her family. Everywhere she turned a noble she did not recognize was offering a bow or a curtsy, usually with a quietly murmured “Princess”. She returned their greetings, but did not linger. Only hours ago she had been excited for the ball, for her chance to attend for the first time. How many times as a child had she hidden up in the rafters with Aemond, dreaming of joining the dancers down below? She glanced up, wondering if there were any young faces doing the same as she had once. But not it seemed only to be a crush of unfamiliar figures, and she longed for a spot of quiet.

“Princess Aelinor,” Someone stepped into her path. He was a small, spindly man with a cane at his side, and an unsettling smirk on his face. “You have much changed.”

His fingers twitched out, nearly catching the crimson chiffon of her sleeve. She took a step back, but was pressed against another stranger, this one ensconced in a conversation and unaware of how he was entrapping the princess.

“Forgive me, Sir.” Aelinor cleared her throat. “But have we met?”

“When you were very small, Princess.” He tilted his head. “And as I said, you have grown much.”

She did not like this man. “Might I have your name, Sir. I don’t—”

“Lina!” She could have wept to hear Aemond’s voice at her side. He emerged from the center of the dance floor, pushing through a dancing pair and coming to stand at her side. “I have been looking for you.”

“I’ve only just arrived. I was speaking to…” She turned around, only to find that the spidery man had vanished back into the crowd. “How odd.”

“Was someone bothering you?”

“No, it was only strange.” She tried to shake the interaction from her mind. “My, don’t you look every bit the handsome prince.”

Aemond shrugged, uncomfortable with the compliment. But it was the truth. Aelinor could not recall ever seeing him look so fine. His tunic was embroidered with gold thread, the rich green so dark that it was nearly black. His silver hair was smoothed back, falling over his wide shoulders.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.

Aelinor glanced around, well aware that every person around them was only pretending not to eavesdrop. “I just arrived. I have not even—”

“Little Aelinor!” A hand landed on the small of her back. “I knew I would find you here.”

“Uncle.” She greeted Aegon with a polite curtsy, resisting the urge to shuffle away from his touch. “I trust you are well?”

His eyes drooped slightly as he appraised her. “All the better for seeing you.”

“Brother, I—” Aemond tried to cut in.

“Darling Niece,” Aegon continued. “Care to dance?”

There was no polite way to refuse an offer from a prince, especially not when it had been made so publicly.

“Of course, Uncle.” She set her good hand in his, shooting Aemond a look of apology. “Perhaps I shall see you later?”

“Oh, I’m certain he will make sure of it.” Aegon tugged her away, leading her right to the center of the floor.

Aelinor could feel the eyes following her as Aegon stopped them in the center of the floor, assuming the position for a quick four step, a dance she knew quite well. When she glanced to the side, she saw the Queen standing from her seat, disappearing into the crowd just as the musicians struck up a new song.

This particular dance was quite easy, involving two partners who moved around each other in a circle, occasionally clasping hands or jumping. It was ideal for chatting with a suitor, but unfortunately, Aelinor had no interest in chatting with Aemond, not when she could smell drink on his breath.

Aegon, for his part, did not seem overly interested in conversing. He moved through the steps lazily, clearly too drunk to execute them gracefully, but also too familiar to make a complete mockery of himself. Twenty couples moved around them, all of them completely silent, waiting to catch wind of what Prince Aegon and her might be discussing.

“How is Helaena?” Aelinor began, remembering her mother’s request to behave as if nothing was wrong. “I have not yet had the chance to speak with her.”

Aegon shrugged. “I’ve not seen her tonight.”

“No?” Aelinor frowned, before plastering a smile back on her face. “Well, then. Your children, how are they?”

“I have three of them.” Aegon said, clearly not overwhelmed with fatherly affection.

Aelinor tried to drum up some sympathy for her uncle. As long as she had known him, he had never thrived in the spotlight, nor had he been enthusiastic about wedding Helaena. But as someone who had never been drawn to the drink, Aelinor could not quite bring herself to forgive his inebriation.

“My brother,” Aegon drawled. “Seems unable to keep his eye off of you.”

Aelinor ignored the jibe. “I’m sure he’s just observing the dancing.”

“Or he’s fueling his obsession with you,” Aegon leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell me, Niece. What do you see in my brother?”

His hands had curled almost painfully into her waist. The music ended and Aelinor snapped back, putting space between them.

“For one thing,” She hissed. “He’s not a drunken lech.”

Bobbing a curtsy, she left him on the floor. Unfortunately, she did not see Aemond in the crowd. Intending to resume the search for her mother, she moved toward the front of the room, only to nearly walk directly into the Queen.

“Your Majesty,” She curtsied, feeling like she had spent most of the evening bobbing up and down. “Forgive me, I did not see you there.”

Alicent held both hands in front of her, her red hair shining against the emerald of her gown. “Aelinor. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Aelinor nodded gratefully. She would not pretend that she had ever been friendly with Alicent, but the Queen had always been kind to her as a child.

“Did you enjoy your dance?” Alicent asked.

“I did,” Aelinor said too quickly. “It was…nice to see Aegon again.”

“Hm,” Alicent looked like she did not believe her. “Well, I’m glad. I think you’ll find it difficult to source another partner.”

“Your…your Majesty?”

Alicent leaned forward. “You look beautiful, Aelinor. But no one wishes to dance with a cripple.”

Aelinor recoiled, her mouth falling open as the Queen walked away. That was…that had been cruel. Overcome with shame, Aelinor adjusted her long sleeve so that it fell over her injured hand. She knew her hand unsettled people, but it did not make her a cripple. And she would never have expected something so malicious to come out of the Queen’s mouth.

“Aelinor! Are you alright?”

The crowd this evening just seemed to keep throwing conversations her way. Thankfully, this time it was Aemond, who placed one hand on her elbow.

“Aemond,” She said quietly.

“Was that my mother?” He asked. “Are you alright, you look pale.”

Aelinor shook her head. “I’m quite alright.”

“Would you care to dance with me?” He asked, looking a bit nervous. “If you…if you would like to.”

Aelinor glanced up at him. “I would love to, Aemond, But I should really find my family. I promised Jace a dance and I—”

Aemond frowned, and she remembered how he did not like to be reminded of her near-betrothal to Jace.

Two courtiers moved past, whispering as they did. Aelinor hid her hand further in her sleeve, the Queen’s jibe stinging sharply through her veins. “I can find them later. Let us dance.”

Aemond smiled, and she thought she heard someone nearby gasp as he took her hand and led her back to the floor. They took up a spot on the edge, and Aemond grasped her waist with one hand as the musicians began. This was a slower set, allowing them to whirl between other couples in time with the music. Aelinor was a bit lost in her thoughts, her mind swirling with the music and her conversation with the Queen.

“You’re hiding your hand,” Aemond whispered. “Why?”

“What?” Aelinor looked up. He was so much taller than her, so much that she had to tilt her head back to see his face.”Oh, I just…it looks better this way.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to care very much how it looks.” Aemond said. “After all, you are—”

The music stopped suddenly, and Aelinor spun a few more steps before they stopped. The guests were all turning to the dias, where Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys, and their children stood in a neat line.

Aelinor tilted her head. “What are they doing?”

Queen Alicent was standing at the foot of the dias, her eyes wide as she stared up at the princess. It took only a few moments for the hall to fall completely silent, all eyes on Rhaenyra.

“We are grateful to everyone for being here today,” Rhaenyra said. “It has been wonderful to see so many familiar faces.”

The crowd murmured in approval.

“I think she’s just thanking the court,” Aelinor whispered, conscious of how Aemond’s hand still lingered at her back.

“And,” Rhaenyra continued. “I would like to take this opportunity to impart on the court an announcement that is sure to bring great happiness to us all.”

Jace stepped up to his mother’s side, and Aelinor felt her blood run cold. This was it. They were about to announce it to everyone, and then her fate would be sealed. She felt a few eyes turning her way, the rumor mill no doubt assuring that most courtiers could predict what this announcement may be.

“It gives me great job to announce the betrothal of my son Prince Jacaerys—”

Oh gods, here it was.

“And my son Prince Lucerys to the Princesses Baela and Rhaena. This joining of two great Valyrian houses will no doubt be a triumph for the realm.”

A thousand emotions flooded Aelinor, the foremost of them being shock. Jacaerys was betrothed to Baela? What did this mean? Her mother had never wavered in her intention to betrothe her two eldest children, and yet…she had just changed her mind before the entire court.

Jace held out a hand to Baela, both of them beaming as they descended to the floor for a dance.

Queen Alicent climbed the steps quickly, speaking in hushed tones to Rhaenyra as the room slowly resumed the party. Things made a bit more sense to Aelinor, then. The trial addressing Luc’s succession would take place the following day, and Rhaenyra had just assured that the Velaryons would support his claim. It would now be Vaemond standing against his own family, almost certainly guaranteeing them success.

But people were whispering, casting looks her way as they moved through the room. The dancing began anew, and yet she just stood there, Aemond by her side, trying to process what was happening.

“Cast aside—”

“The bastards are—”

“...betrothed to a cripple…”

It was all too much, and Aelinor turned quickly and rushed from the room. She shoved through the crowd, around one of the tables and out through one of the servant doors. She was barely aware of someone following until she felt Aemond’s hand on her arm.

“Lina, are you—”

A servant moved past, carrying a tray of sweetmeats, and he gave the Princess a concerned look.

Aemond turned to him and roared. “OUT! Now!”

******************************************************

The evening had not taken the turn that Aemond had expected. He had expected to endure a night of endless political preening, perhaps stealing a dance with Aelinor or his sister, and now he was huddled in a servants’ corridor, while Aelinor hid in the corner.

“I’m sorry,” she held a hand to her mouth. “I just….everyone was talking and I…I just couldn’t…”

“Take all the time you need,” Aemond assured her. “No one will bother you.”

In truth, he was seething inside. For a split second, he had been overjoyed. To know that Aelinor would not be marrying Jacaerys…if he were devout it would have been something he prayed for. But then he had watched the bastard lead his new betrothed into a dance, and he had seen how Aelinor’s face had fallen.

That bastard had cast her aside, her entire family had opened her up to scorn. As if the bastard even deserved Aelinor at all. No, he deserved nothing, but Aelinor certainly did not deserve to be publicly rejected in front of the court like that.

Aelinor was shaking her head. “Gods, she could have told me.”

“You did not deserve that,” Aemond hissed. “For him to gloat and—”

She held up a hand. “He was not gloating. He and Baela are well suited, and I am happy for them.”

She was too kind. Too generous. She would forgive them, she always would, just as she had forgiven them when they maimed her as a child. This was what happened when he wasn’t by her side, she was coerced into accepting this treatment from them, when she deserved far better.

“Perhaps I’ll get to go back to Dragonstone in peace,” She gave a small smile.

“You cannot allow—”

“Did you want me to marry Jace? Is that it?” She demanded. “Because after last night, I rather thought that you…that we…”

“That we were what?” Aemond stepped forward until her back was against the wall.

Aelinor sighed. “I don’t know, Aemond. Tonight has been overwhelming, and there are so many people here who I do not know. I just need to go back to Dragonstone, to people who understand me, and it will—”

Aemond reached up and ripped off his eye patch. “I understand you!”

Her lips parted as she stared up at him, at the blue gem that flickered in the torch light. Aemond’s chest was heaving with some kind of craze, and he knew he should step back. He had to, before he did something that both of them regretted. But nothing in him was strong enough to move away from her.

Slowly she lifted her injured hand, silk sleeves falling away as she let her fingertips trace the edges of his scar, inching closer to his eye.

“That’s my sapphire,” She breathed. “You…you actually did it.”

“Of course I did,” He lifted his hand to grasp hers. “How could you think that I don’t understand you?”

“I…that is not what I meant.” She whispered.

“I know,” He nodded. “And…I don’t mean to force your hand. You deserve better than your brother, and I won’t pretend that I am a better option. I only wanted you to see that I…that I have always…”

“Aemond…” She leaned closer.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Aemond wrenched himself away just as a servant came through carrying pitchers of wine. They waited until the servant had passed into the ballroom before speaking again.

“Thank you, Aemond.” Aelinor said, kneeling to the ground to pick up his eye patch. “Thank you for always being there.”

He couldn’t find the strength to speak as he took the eyepatch from her. Sighing, Aelinor stepped past, “And Aemond?”

“Yes?”

She gave him a small smile. “I do not think you should have to hide, either.”

Aemond watched her disappear through the door before retying his eye patch, making sure to cover his eye entirely. When he stepped back into the room, he saw Aelinor making her way toward her mother, but his eye sought out another.

On the dance floor, Jacaerys spun Baela in what must be their second or third dance. Aemond felt his blood boil. Aelinor might be willing to forgive, but he was not so generous.

Before the night was out, the bastard would answer to him.

#house of the dragon #hotd #team black #team green #aemond #aemond x oc #fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #fanfic #lady of the ashes

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Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 5

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 4012

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Aelinor was beaming when she finally reached the chambers that had been allotted to her family. After nine long years, her reunion with Aemond had been everything she had hoped for. And Aemond…well he was certainly more than she had hoped for.

But when she stepped through the doors, she found her family sulking in tense silence.

“Whatever has happened?” She asked, causing her mother to look up from her seat.

“Our meeting with the Queen did not go as planned.” Rhaenyra sighed.

“And the King?” Aelinor moved to take baby Viserys from the nursemaid, holding her half-brother close to her chest.

Rhaenyra clenched her fist, looking toward where Daemon stood in the window. “My father is…not well.”

Aelinor frowned at that, easily bouncing the baby on her hip. She did not like to hear that her grandfather was unwell, though she couldn’t pretend that it was a surprise. His health had not been good for as long as she had known him. But it saddened her to think of the man who had taught her to paint marble figurines and who had always had a seat for her on his knee as suffering and in pain.

Daemon smacked the wall loudly, causing everyone to flinch. “That green bitch has let Viserys rot, all the while she paints the halls with her damned piety. It’s borderline treason.”

Aelinor lifted her skirt as she made her way to a small sofa, setting Viserys down before sitting next to Lucerys. “Well this isn’t good.”

“They’ve been like this since we got back,” He whispered. “You’re just lucky that you missed the screaming.”

“There was screaming?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m almost disappointed to have missed it.”

A hand wrapped around her shoulders, and she nearly screamed as Jacaerys pulled her back against his chest. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

He snorted, leaning over the back of the couch to hold onto her. “You said you were almost disappointed, sister. Would that ‘almost’ have something to do with who you were talking to?”

“Jace!” She hissed. “Shut your—”

“What is this, Aelinor?” Her mother asked, both of her parents now staring at her. “You were talking to someone?”

She winced. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep Aemond a secret, only that she knew her parents would not be pleased to see her take up with him again. They weren’t children anymore, and if their parents had seen no issues in them being close as children, it would be impossible to avoid the political implications now.

“Yes,” she coughed. “Lord Vaemond. He was arriving just as I went to meet the boys in the yard.”

“Oh,” Her mother relaxed. “And did he…say anything about this entire affair?”

Luc tensed beside her, and she reached around the baby to pat his leg. “No, Mother. Or, nothing more than some low-effort jibes. But we were in the training yard, so I doubt he would have started anything.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Rhaenyra sighed.

“Who else were you talking to, Aelinor?” Jace teased, unwilling to let the matter go.

She shook off his grip and reached back to smack him on the head. “Gods, you are insufferable. Can’t you just keep—”

“Who else, Aelinor?” Rhaenyra asked.

Aelinor sighed, picking at the fabric of her skirt. Lying was not in her nature, but she could tell just from the stiff set of her mother’s mouth, and how Daemon loomed behind her, that this was not something that they would just brush aside.

“I was speaking to Aemond,” she said finally. “We met him in the yard.”

“And then he chased after her because—”

Aelinor threw a fist back, catching her elder brother in the shoulder. “I hate you.”

“You adore me.” He snickered.

“Children!” Her mother snapped. “This is serious. What did you speak of with Aemond, Aelinor?”

“Nothing,” She insisted. “We haven’t seen each other in nine years, we were just catching up.”

“You two used to be joined at the hip, and you expect me to believe that you were just catching up?” There was nothing accusatory in her mother’s voice, only something like resignation.

“Truly, mother.” She insisted. “He is…he is my friend. I don’t know what else you expect.”

Daemon scoffed, and Aelinor was unable to bite her tongue.

“What should I have told him, Prince Daemon?” She demanded. “Perhaps how you have Luc and Jace practicing battle formations on dragonback? Or should I just outright accused his mother of treachery, as you have just done?”

“Aelinor!” Her mother protested.

“You should mind your tongue,” Daemon frowned. “I do not expect you to understand why—”

“I understand plenty!” Aelinor stood. “I know that we are here to support Lucerys’ claim, and I know that both of you fear that your time away from court has irreparably damaged our reputations. But surely it does no one any good for us to come in with our armor up. As if we have something to hide.”

“We have nothing to hide.” Rhaenyra insisted.

“Exactly!” Aelinor closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I only think that the best thing we can do is to act like we belong. I don’t see how this scheming and sniping can get anything done.”

“Scheming and sniping is how kings are made.” Daemon said. “However unfortunate that may be.”

“Then I leave you to it.” She said. “But I will have no part.”

“You already have a part in it!” Daemon began. “Just by existing, you validate your—”

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra held up a hand. She carefully eased herself out of her chair, one hand on her stomach. “Aelinor, we talked about this.”

“We talked about presenting a united front.” Aelinor said, “I fail to see how this is undermining that. As far as the court should be concerned, we are family.”

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, steadying herself. “That notion is not incorrect.”

Aelinor was a little surprised to hear that admission. She had expected more resistance, considering how heartily everyone had resisted her friendship with Aemond when they were children. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Her mother nodded. “You are a woman now, Aelinor, and I will not harp on your every move. I only implore you to remember your family in all this.”

“Of course I will, Mother.” She gave a small smile.

“And,” Rhaenyra added. “Remember that, as you are no longer a child, the implications of your friendship with Aemond may be…different than before.”

Luc and Jace snickered, and Aelinor whirled to glare at them.

“I understand, Mother.” She smiled, some of her satisfaction fading at the look Daemon leveled her.

“Now I must rest,” Rhaenyra said. “I think I shall take dinner in my chamber this evening. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The children all watched as Daemon helped Rhaenyra from the room, collecting the small children before they left and leaving the older ones to fend for themselves for dinner. It made sense, as all of them were exhausted from the day and would relish the opportunity to relax in solitude.

As soon as her parents were out of sight, Aelinor turned to glare at Jace. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”

“Not when teasing you is so fun.” He laughed.

“You’re an ass.” She shook her head. “Luc, you continue to be my favourite.”

Luc beamed. “You’re my favourite too.”

“And you’re both pathetic.” Jace rolled his eyes. “I’m going to go unpack and then return to the training yard. I’ll see you both later.”

Aelinor gave him a crude gesture as he left. Once he was gone, she dropped back onto the couch next to Luc. He reached out and played with a piece of her hair, something she could remember him doing when he was only a babe.

“It’s strange, being back here.” He said quietly. “Everything feels different.”

“It does. But I think we’re different too.” She replied. “Maybe we just need to give ourselves time to settle in.”

“Maybe,” He hummed. “At least you have Aemond. Was it nice to see him again?”

‘Nice’ didn’t even begin to describe her elation at seeing Aemond. “It…yes,it was nice.”

“That’s good.” Luc looked down at the hair twining his fingers.

“Chin up,” Aelinor nudged him. “Things will get better. We all used to be friends, once. We can be friends again.”

Luc shook his head. “Aegon is…he’s something else now. And Aemond was never our friend.”

“What? Of course he was.”

“No, Aelinor, he wasn’t.” Luc sighed. “He only ever liked you. He hated us. And with good reason.”

“His own brother teased him as much as you or Jace did.” Aelinor frowned, remembering how they used to torment him. She had hated it, even hating her brothers some days for what they did. Now that she was older, she knew that it was just boys being cruel, and that she couldn’t hold it against them. Surely Aemond wouldn’t either.

“Yes, but…” Luc trailed off.

“But what?” She prompted.

“I’m the one who cut out his eye.”

Aemond was waiting outside the library as the sun set, pretending to study the fading light on the horizon as he paced back and forth. She wasn’t late — in fact he was early — but his nerves were already standing on end. What if she didn’t come? He knew that if it were up to Aelinor, she would be there, but there were any number of things that might stop her. One of her brothers could turn her against him, or her mother might forbid her from meeting him.

He had no doubt that his own mother would have tried to prevent their dinner, which was why he had avoided his family all day. This was beyond them, and it was something they would never understand.

“Aemond!” He turned toward her voice, and his mouth went dry.

Aelinor was rushing down the hallway with hurried steps, holding her skirt above her ankles as her shoes clicked against the stone. She had changed into a new dress, this one of a dark purple velvet that cut closely to her figure, betraying the slope of her waist and the shape of her hips. Her hair was unbound, flowing like liquid silver as she ran toward him.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of him. “I had to wait for Jace to be in his chambers so that I could sneak away.”

He had to swallow a few times before he regained the ability to speak. “Will he give you trouble?”

She waved her hand. “Nothing serious, he just likes to tease. Besides, Luc agreed to cover for me.”

The thought of Jacaerys and Lucerys filled him with something between rage and jealousy. For nine years he had seethed at the thought of them spending time with her, of them not appreciating her for what she was. Now she was here, with him, and yet her brothers seemed ever-present.

But he forced his face to remain passive, extending a hand to Aelinor with a small bow. “Well then, shall we?”

“Oh, we shall!” Aelinor beamed, grabbing his hand in hers. She ignored the proper etiquette, which would have demanded that she gently place her fingers in his, allow him to bow over it, and then quickly resume an appropriate distance. Instead she entwined her fingers through his, holding him tightly in her grip. It made Aemond’s head spin as he rose out of his bow. This was all so easy for her, to just fall into how things used to be, when all he could think about was how much things had changed.

He opened the door to the library, allowing her to step through first before following. She let their joined hands fall to her side, his knuckles brushing the soft velvet of her dress.

The King’s library was one of Aemond’s favourite places in the castle, and it had been since he was a child. The looming shelves cast a dark shadow across the room, which on a normal night would create an almost unsettling atmosphere. But the first thing Aelinor saw when she stepped into the room was the small table set up in front of the large picture window, with dozens of small candles propped up on piles of books to accentuate the light of the moon. It had taken Aemond close to an hour to get everything perfect, but from the smile on Aelinor’s face, he had succeeded.

“Aemond, this is wonderful!” She exclaimed, letting her hand slide from his as she rushed forward, spinning around to take it all in. “However did you manage all this?”

“A prince has his ways,” He said with false bravado.

She gave a little snort, quickly covering her mouth as she looked away. He grinned, deciding to let that pass without teasing her.

“You’re ridiculous,” She shook her head.

“Only the best,” He stepped past her and pulled out a chair. “Princess?”

With an exaggerated swish of her skirts, Aelinor dropped into the chair. He had removed the heavy oak table, shoving it into one of the aisles out of sight, and pushed one of the smaller study tables up against the window bench. When they were younger, they had spent many hours curled up on that bench while Aemond read stories to her, but he had opted for two chairs this time.

He grabbed the rolling cart from one of the aisles, pouring some wine into both of their glasses before filling a third glass with some sweet ale, which he set in front of her. Only then did he sit in his own seat.

Aelinor was studying the spread of food on the cart, which was laden with enough bread, meat, cheese and desserts to feed a small village.

“You intend to serve us yourself?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” He took a sip of his wine. “We can’t very well keep this a secret if I have a flight of servants waiting on us.”

She glanced toward the table, with its silver place settings, and then to the many candles flickering around them. “And these?”

“All done by myself,” He added. “I didn’t cook, obviously, but the cook is hardly going to reveal us.”

She was silent for a long moment, and he worried that perhaps he had gone too far. He knew that his brother would ridicule him for putting in this much work, for spending an hour arranging candles and folding napkins, but he had strived to make everything perfect.

But Aelinor just smiled. “It is exceptional. You have given me quite the challenge to beat you next time.”

Next time . The thought filled him with warmth.

Aelinor took a sip of her ale, turning to look out the window. “The city hasn’t changed.”

“Did you expect it to?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s reassuring, in a way. That no matter how much else is different, the view from the library is the same.”

“I suppose that’s true. But what all do you think has changed?”

Aelinor hummed, considering her answer. Aemond took the opportunity to begin serving some of the bread and cheese, serving it smoothly onto their plates.

“Everything and nothing has changed.” She said finally. “The halls are the same, but the tapestries are different. The Kingsguard is the same, but some of the knights are new. And the courtiers still whisper and scheme, but I’m more aware of it now. So perhaps that hasn’t changed, and only I have. And you…”

He looked up quickly. “I have changed?”

She nodded slowly. “You have.”

He felt his heart drop from his chest. Was this it, then? Had she finally seen him for what he had become, and she was turning away? Perhaps the whispers of the court had already reached her and turned her mind.

Aelinor saw the worry on his face, and reached across the table to squeeze his wrist. “You have changed, Aemond. You’re even better than I remembered.”

Gods, was he blushing. Embarrassment flooded him, and he coughed quickly to hide it. “You don’t wear your glove anymore.”

Aelinor lifted her injured hand, letting the draped fabric of the sleeve fall away to reveal the injury. “I do, just not if I can help it. I’m sure I’ll wear one to the ball tomorrow.”

“You shouldn’t if you don’t want to.” He insisted.

She smiled. “Then maybe I won’t.”

They fell into comfortable silence as they ate the first part of their meal, each of them sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Aelinor spread some soft cheese on her bread, peering around the empty library. “This room doesn’t seem to get much use anymore.”

“No,” Aemond admitted. “I come when I can, but only the Maesters visit to maintain it.”

“Hm,” She frowned. “And my Grandfather?”

Aemond shook his head. “I have not seen him well enough to get out of bed in several months. He has not visited in…a long time.”

Aelinor turned her head, studying a set of heavy mahogany doors. “His chambers are right through there?”

“Yes.”

“And he is not even well enough to travel to the next room,” She sighed. “It is…it saddens me to hear it.”

“It saddens us all,” Aemond agreed, not liking the melancholy expression that had overcome her face. “But you must tell me more of you, Lina.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He searched for something to distract her. “Darrax. You are flying now? What is he like?”

The thought of her dear dragon caused a bright smile to spread across her face. “Darrax is…he is a dream. He was ever so patient when I was learning to fly, and now he is a positive beast, in the best of ways.”

“He’s grown, then?”

“Yes. He is only slightly smaller than Vermithor. Though truthfully he still grows, and I have not seen Vermithor in several years.”

“But he’s bigger than the dragons your brothers have?”

Aelinor gave him a sly look. “Of course he is. Did you ever doubt it?”

“Certainly not,” Aemond popped a bite of cheese in his mouth. “He’s bonded to a true Targaryen princess, I would expect nothing less.”

It took him a moment to realize what he had said, and by then Aelinor’s eyes had only darkened.

“That was unkind, Aemond.” She said quietly.

“I did not mean…” He said hurriedly. “Only that you are…and that they are…”

“I know what you meant, Aemond.” She sighed. “May I be frank with you?”

“Always.” He was internally cursing himself for letting his inner thoughts slip. These years at court, far away from the Princess Rhaenyra’s family, had made him forget himself.

“I know what people say about us, about my mother and my brothers,” She began, excluding herself from the group. “And there is not much I can do to stop it. But I would hope for better from you. If only out of…out of your affection for me.”

“I swear, Lina. I only meant—”

“I know you are loyal to your mother, and perhaps even to your brother, but I had hoped that—”

“Lina!” He exclaimed, reaching across the table. Her hand was too far away for him to reach, which was probably for the best. “I swear, my loyalty…there is nothing that could compete with my affection for you.”

That was dangerously close to a declaration, and both of them knew it.

Aemond slowly drew his hand back across the table. “May I ask you a question? One that is perhaps a bit…frank?”

“Of course you may,” Her wide violet eyes were sparkling with the candlelight.

Aemond swallowed, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his mind. “Is it…only we had heard rumours…about you and Jacaerys.”

“Oh,” She glanced down at her lap. “Yes. It would seem so.”

His fingernails dug into the table. “And you…you’re happy with this?”

Gods, if she said she was unhappy to be marrying Jace, he wasn’t sure what he might do. He might censor himself around Aelinor, but there was no way that that grubby bastard deserved her.

Aelinor just shrugged. “It is my mother’s wish, and I am willing to do what she asks.”

“But are you happy?”

“Was Aegon happy to marry Helaena?”

He saw the point she was trying to make, but if she knew the truth of it, knew what kind of a leech his brother had become, or how wretchedly unhappy Helaena was, she would not be drawing the comparison.

‘If you…if you didn’t want to…”

“Then I’m sure my mother would respect that choice,” Aelinor said, and he sensed that she honestly believed that. “It’s alright, Aemond.”

It wasn’t even close to alright, but he had to pretend that it was. For her. He had to pretend that he wasn’t fighting the urge to run Jacaerys through with his sword, and Lucerys too, just for good measure.

“But enough about me,” Aelinor said. “Tell me of Vhagar. You had only ridden her once the last time we saw each other.”

It was easy to let her change the subject, though the thought of her and Jace loomed in his mind as they dissolved into easy conversation that carried them well into the night. Eventually Aelinor migrated from her chair to the cushioned window seat, gesturing impatiently until Aemond took a seat at her side.

She rested her cheek on the cold window, sighing happily. Aemond stared, trying to memorize her features. She was content and a bit sleepy, but still smiling brightly as she looked at the dull lights of King’s Landing below them, and he found that he wanted to remember her forever.

“Are you happy to be back?” He asked quietly.

She shifted closer, her thigh brushing against his knee. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been this happy.” She admitted. “It’s like coming home.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” He whispered.

“Gods, I’ve missed you too.” She lifted her head to face him. “I honestly thought that we might never see each other again.”

“But we did. We have.” His fingers traced over her injured hand, gliding up her wrist before gently lacing his fingers through hers. “You can’t imagine how empty this place has been without you.”

“Can’t I?” She chuckled. “Try being at Dragonstone. With only Luc and J—”

“Don’t talk about them.” He frowned.

“Why Aemond,” Aelinor teased, leaning closer. “Are you jealous?”

He felt himself being drawn in, until they were only a breath apart. “Always, Lina. Always.”

Her eyes were fluttering closed, her face shifting until he felt her nose brush against his. Another second, another breath and they would be—”

The heavy mahogany door creaked behind them, and they jerked away.

“What was that?” Aelinor exclaimed.

Aemond jumped up and studied the door to his father’s chambers. It was firmly closed, but still, someone must have opened it for it to have made a sound. It was too heavy to creak in a passing draft.

“It must have been one of the maesters.” He said finally. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“If they saw…” Aelinor began.

If they saw what they had been about to do. How close Aemond had just come to ruining Aelinor’s reputation. She was engaged, and he had almost…almost…

Gods, why hadn’t he kissed her.

“I’ll track them down in the morning,” He promised. “But I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.”

Aelinor didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway. Standing slowly from the bench, she smoothed out her dress. “I should get back.”

It was past midnight, and tomorrow was the ball. He shouldn’t have kept her this long, and yet he hadn’t been able to help himself.

“I’ll walk you back to your chambers.”

“No, someone might see,” She sighed, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, Aemond. Tonight was perfect.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Of course you will,” She smiled. “Save me a dance?”

“Always.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #fanfiction #fanfic #lady of the ashes

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 4

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 5613

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

“Why are you bringing so much?”

Aelinor turned to look at Luc as he entered the courtyard of Dragonstone, where she was strapping a large bundle to the back of Darax’s saddle. “They’re clothes.” She said simply, tightening the strap again. The flight to King’s Landing should be uneventful, but she didn’t want to lose anything.

“I thought you sent trunks on ahead with Mother and the ship?” He asked. “Why do you need more? We’re just flying into the Dragon Pit after all.”

She cleared her throat. “I just want to appear at the Red Keep looking my best.”

“But you look fine in your—”

“She means,” Jace strode into the courtyard, Vermax walking slowly behind him. “That she wants to look pretty for Aemond.”

“Jace!” Aelinor protested, running a hand down Darrax’s flank. It was a good thing that their dragons had grown in proximity to each other, but they were all getting a bit nervous in the small courtyard. Things would turn disastrous if one of her brother’s dragons chose to challenge Darrax in such close quarters.

“Don’t say such foolish things,” she scolded her brother again, turning away so that he couldn’t see the red tinge to her cheeks.

“Isn’t it?” He smirked. “Careful, Sister. I might grow jealous seeing my betrothed prettying herself up for someone else.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a terrible liar,” he teased. She could have thrown something at him, if the levity in his gaze didn’t give away that he was truly, only joking. Jace and her would never suit as husband and wife, but they had certainly grown to be friends.

She settled on rolling her eyes, turning to face her more tolerable brother. “I’ll see you at King’s Landing. Safe flight, everyone.”

With a sharp word to Darrax, the dragon rolled his shoulder down, allowing her to climb into the saddle and adjust the straps around her legs with practiced motions.

“See you later, Lina!” Luc waved cheerfully.

She nodded back. “ Soves, Darrax .”

He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Both Luc and Jace scrambled back as he spread his massive wings and within seconds took to the sky. They coasted over the island quickly, and before long were heading across the bay, Darrax dipping low enough to let his tail skim the water.

Aelinor coaxed him higher, not wanting to risk ruining all of her packed clothes with sea spray.

Gods, she adored flying. It seemed to be the only time that she could be truly alone with her thoughts.

Jace wasn’t wrong, she had packed a change of clothes so that she might look somewhat presentable when she saw Aemond again. Which was stupid of her, she knew. If the Aemond she knew had not changed, he surely wouldn’t care whether she showed up dressed like a queen or in sweaty flying leathers with her hair all a-muss. And if he had changed….then he might not be her Aemond anymore. He was a prince, after all, and he probably had a hundred ladies fawning over him. Why would he waste a second on his childhood friend? And why did that idea of that sting so very much?

No, Aelinor caught herself before she spiraled too deeply. The clothes were so that she might make a good impression on the court. She told herself that they weren’t for Aemond. They were for her mother, for Luc, and even for Jace’s own succession. If ser Vaemond were successful in challenging Luc’s claim, they would all be at risk. The least she could do was make sure that she looked her best and did her part.

Setting the reins against the saddle, Aelinor used her good hand to adjust her gloves. The sea spray wasn’t warm, and the cold always caused such an uncomfortable ache in her bad hand. Once her gloves were set, she retook the reins, thankful that Darrax was steady and reliable enough for her to make such necessary adjustments. How many years ago had it been when she had insisted that she would never be able to fly, with Aemond arguing with her all the way. As it turned out, he had been right. She had just needed to have more faith in herself and in Darrax.

They soared over the royal ship, and she urged Darrax to fly further ahead. Her mother was too pregnant to fly, and so the ship carrying her, Prince Daemon, the younger children and Rhaena had left early in the morning. It was little effort for Darrax to overtake them, and she knew she would easily beat her entire family to King’s Landing.

“Prince Aemond!”

He whipped his head around, not at all surprised when he found Ser Criston striding toward him. That damned knight made it his business to supervise all of the royal children, and it seemed that Aemond had yet to outgrow his meddling.

“What is it, Cole?” Aemond reluctantly marked his place in his book. Legends of Old Valyria . It had been many years since he had read it, but he remembered that the stories inside were among Aelinor’s favourites, and he wanted to brush up.

“We have received word from the dragon keepers,” Cole came to a stop in front of him. “The first of the Princess’ children have appeared. They are waiting on all of them to arrive before they take the carriage to the Keep.”

“Thank you for keeping me informed.” Why should he care if Prince Jacaerys arrived before his siblings? He had probably flown ahead just because he could. In all honesty, there had been very little news from Dragonstone regarding the dragons. He knew that Lin—that Aelinor was flying, as her saddle had been specifically made for her at King’s Landing, but no one knew which of their dragons were the fastest, strongest or largest. It mattered little, as he had Vhagar, who was the strongest of them all.

“Your mother, The Queen, wished to know if you would receive them upon their arrival. They should all be arriving together, Princess Rhaenyra and her children both.”

Curious that his mother didn’t intend on receiving the heir to the throne, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to think about the implications.

He slammed his book shut. “I won’t be receiving them. Come, we must train. My mother can entertain our guests.” He grabbed his sword from where it rested on the table in the library, and marched out.

Was he being childish? Most likely. But he did not think he had the strength to stand there and watch Jace hand Aelinor out of the carriage. He did not want to see them stand next to each other, to feign politeness as that bastard stood in front of him and shattered every dream he had ever had. The dreams might be already broken, but at least he could let the glass fall gently.

Everything was exactly as she had remembered it. The dragon keepers, Darrax’s stall (though he had outgrown it), and even the slightly bitter tinge to the air the moment she stepped out of the Dragonpit. The stench of King’s Landing was almost overpowering, but it still smelled like home.

It took several hours for her brothers to arrive, lending proof to her theory that boys could never manage to do anything on time, and she took that time to change and make herself comfortable in the provided carriage. By the time they stepped inside, looking travel worn and weary, she was feeling much better about her choice to bring a change of clothes.

“You look nice,” Luc had said.

“Who’d you put that on for?” Jace teased. She had punched him in the arm for that.

But soon enough they had rolled through the gates of the Red Keep, only a few minutes ahead of their mother, and found no one there to receive them. Rhaenyra had scoffed, granting each of her three eldest a kiss on their cheeks before dismissing them while she went to greet the King and Queen. Aelinor was grateful to not be part of that conversation.

She did hope for a chance to see her grandfather before the feast in a few days, but she wasn’t sure she could brave the pressure of a formal reception.

The children (if they could even be called that anymore) were left to explore the castle. Jace and Luc rushed ahead, anxious to see the training yard from when they were young, but Aelinor lingered in the corridors, taking in the changes that had been made. She supposed things were bound to feel different, as she was much older than she had been, but there were many changes to the Keep.

Statues of the Seven decorated the halls where before there had been relics of Old Valyria, and many of the murals of risque artwork, which she had giggled over many a time, had been replaced with more modest, spiritual imagery.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Aemond thought of it all. To her it seemed a great and upsetting change, but what had it been like for him? To see the histories and stories he had grown up loving slowly stripped away?

People stopped and stared as she passed, but she did not let it bother her. Taking the time to smile at the few faces she recognized she watched as it dawned on them who exactly she was. Perhaps it had not been widely publicized that they were coming to court. She was once again glad for her decision to change.

The dress was not ornate — few of hers were — but the deep blue velvet and long white sleeves that flowed past her wrist did convey a certain stateliness. And they hid her hand, which probably added to the mystery. The wide neckline, which dipped low enough to display some of her cleavage and wide enough to hang tauntingly off her shoulders, was the closest she could come to emulating the fashions she remembered of the court. But now, she saw that fashions were much more modest, and it didn’t take much to realize who was responsible for that.

“Princess Aelinor!” Ser Harrald’s familiar face appeared in front of her, pulling her away from a stained glass piece of the Mother and the Maiden. He looked a few years older, perhaps, but she was just as happy to see him as when she was a girl.

The last time she had seen him, he had been carrying her away from Aemond as he screamed on the ground, blood pouring from his eye.

Shaking the horrible memory from her head, she decided to ignore the many courtiers surrounding them and stood on her tiptoes to wrap the man in a hug. “It is so nice to see you, Ser Harrald.”

“And you, Princess,” he gave a polite squeeze, and then took a step back. “You have grown up absolutely beautifully if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Thank you, Ser,” she smiled. “It seems much has changed since I was last here.”

“Not as much as you would expect,” he said knowingly.

Aelinor laughed, not quite willing to think of all the possible implications of his statement. “As it is, I must find my brothers. I don’t suppose you’ve seen them, have you?”

Ser Harral smiled. “As I said, Princess. Not much has changed. Most of the action takes place in the training yard, and that is just at the south end of this corridor.”

“Thank you, Ser,” Aelinor nodded. “I will see you later, I hope.”

“As do I.”

With a proper, deep bow, he continued down the hall in the direction she had come from, his white cloak billowing behind him. Now in a much better mood than she had been when she stepped into these uncertain halls, Aelinor hurried toward the training yard. She would collect her brothers, force them to go and clean up, and then they would have time to relax a bit from their journey.

Briefly, the thought that Aemond might be there crossed her mind. Probably not, as he had never enjoyed training, choosing to do the bare minimum out of obligation more than anything else, and she couldn’t imagine him choosing to spend time there of his own choice. But she couldn’t quite squash the butterflies that were fluttering in her stomach.

Things were coming back to her as she stepped through the door into the training yard, recognizing the mud-covered mat used for brushing one’s boots off, even the walkways above the yard usually covered in mud. But when she looked up to survey the yard, she was surprised to find it completely silent. There was no clanging of metal, or the duller impact of the wooden practice blades. No playful yelling or bellowed instructions from knights training their squires.

She quickly saw the reason why. She had just reached the top of the stairs when she caught sight of Ser Vaemond striding across the yard, heading straight for her, a gaggle of servants and guards trailing behind him. It seemed that the crowd in the training yard had fallen silent at his arrival.

Aelinor stepped to the side when he reached the top, offering a demure curtsy. “Ser Vaemond. It has been a long time.”

“Indeed, Princess,” Ser Vaemond gave her an appraising look. “Indeed.”

“I would have expected you to arrive well before us, as it is your petition we are here to witness, after all.”

“Don’t pretend there is any propriety in this farce.” Ser Vaemond scoffed.

Aelinor glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “We are here to hear the King’s justice, grand-uncle. Sure it is too soon to call any of this a farce.”

Ser Vaemond laughed then, and she was reminded of that day at Driftmark, when he had used her aunt’s death as a chance to taunt her and her brothers. “I wouldn’t be so quick to call it justice. Not when you will soon have to face the truth of this.”

Aelinor gave him a polite smile. “And yet, it was not our company who saw fit to arrive through the back door.”

She didn’t offer him another curtsy as he strode by her, ignoring her words. A tiny inkling of pride made her stand a bit straighter. Surely, if that was the first test of this whole affair, she had proven that she could do her part.

Forcing her face back into a pleasant expression, she marched down the stairs, spotting her brothers right away, next to a large crowd of gathered people.

“Jacaerys! Lucerys!” She called, hurrying out onto the ground, the hem of her skirt dragging through the mud. She sent up a silent prayer for forgiveness from whichever maid had to clean the filth from the velvet. Both boys turned to look at her, away from whatever was happening at the center of the circle. And Jace…he looked unsettled.

Coming to a stop in front of them, she tried for a comforting grin, aware of the eyes on them. It was hardly a surprise that they were on edge after Ser Vaemond’s dramatic arrival. “Come on, we need to go clean up.”

“Lina?”

There it was. That voice that she had imagined a thousand times since she had last heard it. He sounded so different, his voice older and deeper and more serious than she remembered, though how she had gleaned all that from a single word was beyond her. But it didn’t matter, because it was still his .

And there he was, standing at the center of the circle, a sword in his hand, a patch on his eye, his long silver hair tied back. Aemond . He was tall, taller than she had imagined, which only seemed unfair given how he was also more perfect and handsome than she could have envisioned.

He was staring straight at her, his mouth hanging open, chest heaving, as though he had just finished a bout and hadn’t quite caught his breath.

Aelinor was suddenly overcome with a sense of embarrassment. She looked…she should have picked a different dress. Oh, why did their first meeting in nine years have to be after she’d gone tramping through the mud, calling after her brother’s like an idiot? Had she even brushed her hair?

Luckily, Jace must have seen the panic on her face, for he quickly grabbed her wrist, gave a quick nod to Aemond that she didn’t fully understand, and pulled her away.

“Compose yourself, Aelinor,” he whispered in her ear as they rushed back up the steps, Luc close behind them. “Or this will be a very awkward week.

Still, Aelinor turned to look over her shoulder. The crowd had moved on from whatever they had been watching, no longer interested in the long-lost princes or princess.

But Aemond hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, his eye fixed on her.

Still trembling, Aelinor gave him a small smile, as much as she could muster.

And Aemond smiled back.

Gods she was beautiful.

Aemond felt like an idiot. After nearly ten years of waiting, of holding his breath for the moment he would get to see her again, and instead, he’d been dumbstruck like an idiot. Because Lina….Lina was beautiful .

She’d always been pretty, of course, and he had thought that from the first moment that he saw her. But she had stood in front of him, a woman grown, with her silver hair falling in loose waves past her hips, lilac eyes shining as she searched for her brothers in the crowd, and he realized that without a doubt, Aelinor was the most beautiful woman in the world.

But then she had seen him, seen what he had become, covered in sweat and grime from hours spent training, his eyepatch and the scar that crept out from behind it, and she had run. Not only had she run, but that bastard Jacaerys had been holding her hand. Seeing them together, Aemond was even more convinced that they were not a good match. He might not deserve Aelinor, but for Jacaerys to even think of touching her…it made his skin crawl.

Tossing his sword aside, ignoring Ser Criston’s cry, Aemond hurried after his niece and nephews, entirely unsure of what he was doing.

“Gods, Aelinor, your face was hilarious,” Luc was laughing as they strolled through the halls. “I’ve never seen your eyes so wide.”

“Shut up,” Aelinor flushed. “It was just a surprise to see him.”

“Here? In his own home?” Jace rolled his eyes, his hand still locked around her wrist. “Or was it the eyepatch? I admit, the wound was more hideous than I had expected it to be. But I suppose something like that will never truly heal.”

“Of course not!” Aelinor shook him off, annoyed. “It was just…a surprise.” What could she say? That she had been dumbstruck by how unbelievably handsome Aemond was? Her brothers would never let her live it down.

“Wekk, I hope you get a handle on it for tomorrow,” Jace gave her a wry grin, clearly exasperated by how poorly she was hiding her true feelings. “We need to appear strong and united.”

“Of course we do, and we will,” Aelinor reached out to squeeze Luc’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Luc. We’ll get everything sorted out.”

“I hope so, because I—” Luc stared over her shoulder, his eyes widening. “Umm…Aelinor?”

“What are you…”

“Aelinor!” Aemond’s voice called from behind her, tone sharp and unforgiving. It sent a thrill rushing through her veins. “Wait!”

“We have somewhere to be, Prince Aemond,” Jace said quickly, reaching again for her elbow. “Forgive us if—”

“I wish to speak to Aelinor,” Aemond repeated, and Aelinor felt his presence like a magnetic force as he came to a stop behind her. She shouldn’t have turned, but as soon as she did, finding him only a few feet away from her, slightly out of breath and staring at her with unsettling intensity, she knew that nothing in the world could have moved her from that place.

“Aelinor?” Jace whispered.

She cleared her throat, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Jace. I’ll catch up with you all later.”

He didn’t look convinced, but Luc poked him in the back, urging him away and down the corridor.

Aelinor turned back to Aemond slowly, her hands knotting in the sleeves of her dress. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?

“I’m sorry about back there,” Aemond said quickly, almost tripping over the words as he rushed to get them out.

“Back there?” Her thoughts felt like soup, all rational thought lost in the overwhelming sensation of Aemond .

“In the courtyard. With my—” He gestured to his face, leaving Aelinor even more confused. “I know it can be quite…jarring and I…” he trailed off.

Aelinor just stared at him.

Aemond had no idea what he was doing. He’d rushed after her, so determined not to let her slip away and refusing to let her be swept away by her brother and then…and then what? As soon as she’d turned to look at him, all he could remember was how pale she had become in the courtyard. When she saw his scar. And now he was stumbling like a fool as he tried to apologize, and she stared at him like he was the world’s greatest fool.

“It’s ugly, I know…” He was still talking, wishing that he had the self-control to silence himself. “But the patch makes it more bearable and you won’t have to see—”

Aelinor slammed into him, nearly knocking her backward with the force of her hug.

“What are you talking about, you fool?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “Ten years, and all you can do is apologize for your eye?”

Aemond choked on the words, trying to find something to say. Aelinor was embracing him. How many times in the past years had he imagined this exact moment? Each time he had convinced himself that it would never happen, not when she was…well her …and he looked the way he did.

And not it took every ounce of his willpower to lift his arms and wrap them around her waist, resisting the urge to hold her so tightly and lift her off the ground.

But she was hugging him, and when she pulled away, there was a brilliant smile on her face.

“You look very roguish,” she declared. “Like a pirate.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” He smiled thinking back to that day when they had said goodbye. When she had been the first person to make him feel that perhaps things weren’t so bleak after all. Before she had left, and he’d learned just how bleak the world could be.

A shadow passed over her face. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“I know—”

“I just wanted you to know that it would never have changed how I felt about you.” She coughed. “Then or…or now.”

As she spoke, she was moving back to a safe, court-appropriate distance. That fleeting, perfect moment was already cursing himself for not taking the chance to hold her more tightly. For a few precious seconds, it had felt as though nothing had changed. He had been her Aemond again.

But things weren’t the same, were they? He knew that better than anyone, when he spent his days listening to his mother and grandfather as they quietly connived to secure Aegon’s place on the throne. They subtly spread their poison about his half-sister and her pack of bastards, of which Aelinor was one.

And she wasn’t Lina anymore. She was Aelinor. A woman. A beautiful, ethereal woman, and even if she could embrace him like no time at all had passed, everything was different now.

“You come to support your brother’s claim?” Aemond found the most neutral topic he could think of, one that wouldn’t set his heart pounding.

Aelinor took a deep breath, as if composing herself, and then nodded. “At the request of my mother and my…Prince Daemon. And for Luc, of course. He may be a rascal, but I am fond of him.”

This surprised Aemond. “I can remember having to fight him off when he was trying to pull your hair out. Forgive me if I am skeptical.”

“Yes, well,” Aelinor chuckled. “He has matured. Slightly. The same cannot be said of Jace.”

The mention of her elder brother instantly soured Aemond’s mood. He didn’t want to talk about her betrothed, he didn’t want to even think about it. Only minutes before, Jace had been leading Aelinor away from him by the arm, a sight he would not soon forget.

But she had embraced him, and that….that couldn’t count for nothing.

“I imagine things are going to get a bit hectic over the next few days, wouldn’t you say?” Aelinor asked. “Before the petition?”

“I would imagine so,” Aemond agreed, both of them fully aware of what they meant. Whatever farce might be put on at the ball the next day, tensions were still bound to boil over. It was inevitable that they would be drawn into it.

A crowd of tittering ladies strolled by, stopping to bob curtsies to the familiar prince. Each of them carefully avoided looking him in the eye. It irked him more than usual, an irrational worry flooding him that perhaps Aelinor would see how the ladies of court feared him, and realize that she should do the same.

“Is there something interesting about the floor?” Aelinor’s tone was light, almost teasing. “I admit that much has changed since I was last here, but I find the floor tiles about the same.”

Everyone’s gaze darted to her, and Aemond was shocked to see a tight smile on her face. Her tone might have been in jest, but there was nothing humorous to be found in the harsh glare of her eyes as she studied the other woman.

“My lady?” One lady said, her eyes darting about, looking for an escape. Aemond thought he might have been introduced to her at one time, but couldn’t be bothered to remember her name.

“ Princess Aelinor ,” he bit out, the ladies all cowering back a step.

“Apologies, Princess Aelinor,” the ladies all curtsied quickly. “I beg your forgiveness.”

Aelinor waved her hand. “None needed. So long as you can tell me why you are studying the floor with such devotion.”

The ladies gaped at her.

“Because,” Aelinor continued. “Some might find it disrespectful, to refuse to meet the eye of their Prince.” Her voice was still light, but Aemond felt the chill she directed at the women.

They all floundered, speaking over each other. Aelinor sighed, almost in boredom.

“Leave,” he barked at the other women. “You have bothered the Princess long enough.”

They practically ran down the halls, nearly tripping over their skirts.

“The entire Keep will tremble in your wake by tomorrow.” He said to Aelinor.

She sighed. “I hope not. I just…” she looked up at him. “Are they all like that?”

“Most of them,” he nodded. “Though I confess, they got marginally better when Aegon and Helaena married and I became the only option. They tend to leave me alone now.”

She furrowed her brow. “Well, then they are idiots. I knew there was a reason you and Helaena were the only people I ever liked.”

Aemond swallowed, unsure what to say to that.

“Walk with me, Aemond,” Aelinor took his arm, not waiting for him to offer it, and began to lead him down the hall at a leisurely pace. He internally grimaced when he realized that her beautiful dress was pressing against his sweaty training shirt, but that worry was quickly overshadowed by a much more pressing concern. Aelinor was touching him. If he angled his body slightly, her side would have pressed into him. How was he meant to maintain composure, when she was so damn close.

“You’re very tense,” Aelinor noted.

“I…” What was he supposed to say? I’m tense because this is the closest I’ve ever been to a woman, and closer than I ever thought I would be to you. “I am sore from training.”

She frowned at that. “Cole works you too hard. I never liked him.”

“From the sound of it, there are very few people you do like.”

“True enough,” she smiled at him, squeezing his elbow with her hand. “I like Jace occasionally, Luc most of the time. Helaena of course. And then, I like absolutely. Everyone else is simply irrelevant.”

It might have sounded callous if anyone were to overhear, and it could hardly be taken as a surprise. Why shouldn’t a spoiled princess hate everyone around her, except for her favourite toys? But Aemond knew exactly what she meant, for he often found himself feeling the same way. Though there were many people and things in his life that he knew on some level he cared for, they all faded into the background when it came to Aelinor. Even in the years they had been apart, all it would take was for him to think of her, and his entire perspective on a situation could change. His favourite horse was a white stallion because it was what the hero rode in the stories he had told her when she was a girl (when the heroes weren’t riding dragons). He had been presented with over twenty horses to choose from, but as soon as that thought of Aelinor had entered his mind, no other horse would do.

He could never bring himself to indulge in his cups the way his brother did, always remembering the sour look on Lina’s face when she had supped wine for the first time.

Gods above, there was a sapphire embedded in his skull, because she had suggested that it would look pretty.

“What of your parents?” He asked. “Surely you must hold some love for them if you followed them here.”

It was a thinly veiled attempt to bait her, and Aelinor knew it. “I love my mother dearly, of course, though we have never quite understood each other. I imagine that is the way with most mothers and daughters.”

True enough. Aemond knew all too well that his own mother struggled to understand Helaena, though he doubted there was any actual effort applied.

“And Prince Daemon…” Aelinor sighed, and Aemond noticed that she did not call him father . “My mother loves him, and so that is enough. It does not make me any more eager to spend a few weeks cooped up in the Keep with them, conspiring against the Hand and his…” She trailed off, shooting him a nervous look. “Forget I said that.”

It was already forgotten, but Aemond nodded anyway. There was no contest between his reluctant tolerance of his mother’s father and the esteem he held for Aelinor.

“You must help me escape, Aemond,” Aelinor smiled up at him. “I don’t care if we go flying, or if we’re hiding in the stables, but I must have a reprieve from all this.”

This was…this was almost too familiar. How many times in their youth had she grabbed him by the arm, begging him to help her escape from her lessons or luncheons? He had never once, in all that time, failed to oblige.

He stopped suddenly, an idea winking into existence. “Then let me give you dinner. This evening. Just the two of us.”

“Dinner?” Aelinor tilted her head. “Where?” The many times they had eaten together in the past had almost always been in the confines of one of their chambers when they were but children. But they were no longer children, and family loyalties aside, it would be grossly improper for a young man and a woman to dine privately in closed rooms.

“My father’s library,” He named the first place he could think of that could offer some degree of privacy without ruining their reputation. The King was too ill to make use of it, and neither his siblings nor his mother ever ventured there. “You can be free of your family for an evening, I can be free of mine, and we can regale each other with tales of our brilliant exploits.”

He tried not to think about how their families might perceive this plan. Of what Jacaerys might think to find Aemond dining with his betrothed. But Aelinor didn’t look the least bit bothered by it, and that gave him a shred of hope. He intended to grasp onto every second of Aelinor that he could before she was swept away from him.

Aelinor was grinning. “You do make a very tempting offer.”

“There will be lemon tarts,” he added quickly. “And all your favourites.” He hoped the cook was skilled enough to make angel cakes with berry sauce before that evening.

“Ah well, then I cannot refuse,” Aelinor dropped his arm and gave a small smile. “I shall see you then. At sundown?”

Aemond gave a jerky nod, halfway between a bow and a friendly farewell. Aelinor just smiled wider.

“And Aemond?” She called, still walking away.

“Yes, Lin—” He cleared his throat. “Yes, Princess?” He couldn’t go shouting her given name in a public corridor, never mind that there didn’t seem to be anyone around to hear it.

“I have no need of lemon tarts. Bring yourself, for that is all I need.”

He stared at her until she faded from view, her skirts swishing as she disappeared around a corner.

And then Aemond sprinted for the kitchens.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #fanfiction #fanfic #lady of the ashes

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

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Everyone Must Choose

Explain why in the comments (or ask box for anon)

#house of the dragon #hotd #team black #team green #game of thrones #gotd #poll

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

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Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 3

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 3763

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

IMPORTANT: Instead of the six year time jump we saw in the show, we're doing a nine-year time jump. I was in no way comfortable building toward future events with Aelinor only fifteen years old. Here is a list of current ages. Aemond: 24 Aelinor: 18 Jacaerys: 19 Lucerys: 15

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3

Nine Years Later

The citizens of Dragonstone felt the dragon before they saw it. The fishermen working at their boats, the merchants unloading their hauls from the ships, all felt the world swallowed by shadow as the sun above them was blocked out. The first time it happened, as the shadow of dragon wings passed overhead and the heat of the day was blocked, some of them had screamed that it was Balerion, returned from the dead. There had been chaos in the streets.

But now they knew better, and some of them even lifted their arms to wave at the young Princess as she flew by.

Aelinor Velaryon Targaryen laughed when she saw a few scattered expressions of fear below her, pulling hard on the handle to draw Darrax away from the shore. He’d been known to swoop down and steep the catches of unlucky fishermen, but now he was so large that he would destroy everything in his path if he tried.

“Come, Darrax,” she leaned forward to pat his neck. “Let us carry on.”

The girl was a sight to behold, and many people from the harbor and the castle both stopped their tasks to watch her and her mighty dragon turn toward the sea.

Darrax had not slown in his growing, now with a wingspan rivaled only by Vhagar and a body only slightly smaller than that of Vermithor. His obsidian scales sparkled a million shades of blue and green as the light of the sun reflected off of the waves. He was fast, carried by his large wings, and it was easy to see why the people of Dragonstone had shouted ‘monster’ the first time he flew above them.

But he was also gentle, for he had his rider to care for.

Aelinor had grown much since her childhood, though those that truly knew her would have said that she had not changed at all. She wore her hair in a long plait down her back, and it flapped behind her in the wind, a streak of brilliant silver against the sky. Her reins were modified with a single handle, so that she might be able to command Darrax with only one hand. She rarely needed to, however, as the bond between dragon and rider was so close that she could command him with just Valyrian.

“We aren’t fishing today, Darrax,” she called. “Just stretching our wings.”

The young woman had been stretching her wings more and more often as of late, as she found it suffocating to be in the presence of her parents. Her mother was pregnant with her fourth child by Prince Daemon, and while Aelinor wouldn’t mind supporting her mother in such a time, it was difficult to do so without encountering her father. He had been growing ever more persistent in his desire to train her and Darrax, and she was beginning to run out of excuses.

They swept around the west side of the island, keeping low so that they both might enjoy the spray of the sea. If anyone had asked, Aelinor would have said that she went this way so that Darrax might rest on the cliffside that faced toward the west. But Darrax did not need any such rest, and there was only one reason that she always flew west.

This day, like all the rest of them, she looked west and found the skies empty.

Aelinor sighed, too used to the disappointment for it to sting much. It had been a long nine years, with no word save what came through official messages to the Princess Rhaenyra. She knew that Aegon and Helaena had wed, and that they now had two children. She could not imagine that to be a good match, struggling to reconcile the odd and insect-obsessed Helaena with an image of motherhood. Nor was the Aegon that she remembered the type of boy who should have been a father. Aemond…there was little news of Aemond. She knew it was no fault of his own, but she still found herself hoping to hear from him, even after all these years.

Darrax let out a huff, sensing his rider’s emotions, and then he dove.

“No! NO, Darrax! No!” Aelinor’s shouts were silenced as Darrax plunged beneath the waves.

For a few moments she was weightless, and then he was splashing back to the surface, his wings causing great waves around them as he launched himself back into the sky.

Aelinor sputtered and spat out water. She was completely soaked, but she was laughing. “Darrax!” She scolded, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. “You silly creature. Let’s go home then, so I can dry off.”

Darrax pumped his wings, driving himself up and over the cliff, cutting across the island to carry them back to Dragonstone.

An hour later, Aelinor was walking through the halls of the castle. She was no longer wet, though her leathers had pasted themselves uncomfortably tight against her skin. She had undone her long braid, letting her hair fall past her hips. A bath. A bath was what she needed after that sojourn into the sea.

She reached up with her bad hand, grabbing her glove with her teeth and pulling it free. Then she carefully stretched out each of her fingers, looking forward to warm water and bath salts.

“Aelinor,” her father’s voice echoed from in front of her, the man himself stepping out from an adjoining hall.

She didn’t slow her pace. “Price Daemon.”

He didn’t protest her use of the title. He had never been one to argue trivial matters, and he couldn’t care less whether she called him Father or not. For nine years, his eldest daughter had held him at arm’s length, resentment simmering between them like oil in a pan.

He knew she didn’t like him, but he just didn’t care.

“I wish to take you flying,” he fell into step, watching as she carefully tended to her crippled hand. “So that you might learn to—”

“To what? To fly into battle? Against who, Prince Daemon?” She demanded. “My mother might feign ignorance, but anyone can see that you are preparing for something. I will not be brought into your schemes.”

“You are your mother’s daughter, and with that comes specific—”

“Correct. I am my mother’s daughter. And the daughter of the man who raised me,” she didn’t say whom you murdered, though she had been tempted more than once over the years to confront him about the murder of Ser Laenor. “My loyalty is to them, and not to you.”

Daemon let out a scoff, but fell away, and Aelinor did not look back.

She stepped into the warmth of her bedchamber, finding the bath already full and steaming.

“What did—” A girl stepped out from behind the dressing screen. “Rhaena!”

The two girls had grown closer in the years they had lived together on Dragonstone. Though not as close as sisters, they were dear friends. Aelinor decided not to wrap her in a hug, given that she still reeked of seawater, but she beamed at her cousin.

“I thought you might need it,” Rhaena laughed. “Darrax take you for a swim again?”

Aelinor was already stripping out of her leathers. “Of course he did. He’s positively impish.”

“I wonder where he gets that from,” Rhaena rolled her eyes, watching as Aelinor practically dived into the bathtub.

“It’s so warm. Thank you, Cousin.” They had never stopped calling each other that, all too aware of the boundaries that would be ripped down if they had to acknowledge what they were — sisters. But still, since the marriage of their parents a few years ago, they had been sisters in all but name, and Aelinor was eternally grateful for the female companionship.

“Your mother said that she wished to speak to you,” Rhaena said. “It sounded important.”

Aelinor gave a slight nod, dread already pooling in her gut. She knew what this was about, as did Rhaena. It was the same topic that had been haunting the halls of Dragonstone for months, casting a pall over everything Aelinor did.

“She knows my feelings on the subject,” she finally said. “But she is my mother, and the Princess of Dragonstone besides. My feelings have little relevance.”

Rhaena passed her a cloth, and Aelinor started to scrub some of the salt from her skin. “But shouldn’t your feelings matter? After all, it’s Jace, of all people.”

Rhaena’s expression was genuine, but Aelinor could hear the question she did not ask. Rhaena was, if not in love with, certainly interested in Jace. But it had never been a secret that, to secure Jace’s own place on the throne, he would marry Aelinor. With her pure Targaryen looks, they would be able to secure the claim of any of their future children. In recent months, Rhaenyra had begun making plans in earnest. After all, both Aelinor and Jace were older than Rhaenyra had been when she first wed Ser Laenor.

Aelinor sunk lower into the bathtub, letting the water lap over her mouth and nearly to her nose. She did not want to think about these things. She did not want to imagine having children with Jace, and certainly did not want to imagine what that would mean. Her brother was nice enough, having grown out of the worst of his childhood impulses, but he was still Jace. Luc would have been more agreeable, if he weren’t still a babe in her eyes.

At least she knew Jace felt the same way. They were not suited to each other.

But they would do whatever was required to win their mother the throne.

“It could be worse,” Aelinor sighed, trying to force some levity into the situation. “I could be marrying a Lannister.”

“At least they have gold,” Rhaena smiled. “What if it were Aegon, or worse, that rogue Aemond? When traders come from King’s Landing, they say that his face is—”

“I know what the traders say,” Aelinor snapped, biting her cheek to keep from cursing aloud. “I would like to bathe alone now, Rhaena. If you please.”

It was a dismissal as plain as any, but Rhaena did not fight it. She just said her farewell, stood, and walked to the door.

She should not have let it bother her so. It had been nine long years, and the rift between their families seemed more insurmountable than ever. But there was still that tiny part of her that sprang to attention whenever she heard even a whisper of Aemond. And too often, it was cruel, malicious whispers that her family seemed to take at face value.

The door creaked open, and Aelinor groaned. Gods be damned. Couldn’t she just have one bath in peace?

“Aelinor? May I come in?”

“Of course, Mother,” Feeling no shame at her own nakedness, Aelinor did not open her eyes as she heard her mother glide into the room and take a seat at her dressing table.

“Did you have a nice flight?” Rhaenyra asked, with almost forced politeness.

Aelinor shrugged. “As good as any. But I can confirm that the sea is quite frigid this morning.”

“Then perhaps you should not be swimming in it.” Her mother laughed.

Aelinor sighed, opening her eyes and moving to rest her chin on the side of the bath tub. “Out with it, Mother. I can see that it’s bothering you.”

Say it. Say that it is finally time for me to do my duty and wed Jacaerys.

But that was not what Rhaenyra said. “Ser Vaemond moves to challenge Lucerys’ succession to the Driftwood Throne.”

“What?” Aelinor sat back. “But it’s settled. Why is Lord Corlys allowing it?”

“He isn’t. He’s been gravely injured in the Stepstones,” Rhaenyra gave her a sad look, appearing genuinely bereaved by the injury to a man they all admired. “Baela wrote. We must make for King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’ claim before the Iron Throne.”

Aelinor’s mouth dropped open. “When?”

“We will leave tomorrow,” her mother stood. “And Aelinor?”

“Yes?” Already her mind was awhirl with everything that this might mean.

“This is…” She watched as her mother searched for the words. “We need to present a united front. We’ll be bringing our dragons, and I…I ask you to remember who your true family is.”

It was both a warning and a scolding, all wrapped up in one.

Aelinor nodded, and stared after her mother as she left the room.

She sat there for a long time, stewing in the bathwater. There was so much to think about. On one hand, she was more than a little relieved that she was not yet formally betrothed to her brother. But on the other, there was a genuine twinge of fear. She did not want the legitimacy of her brothers challenged, and she did not want their futures left uncertain. It was a settled succession, and Ser Vaemond was risking everything by drawing it into the open.

Her mother’s ascension to the throne would be questioned if her children were declared illegitimate, and Aelinor knew she would not be immune to that. She might look more Targaryen than Jace and Luc, but it was plain to see that she was not the daughter of Ser Laenor. Gods, this could ruin everything.

But, there was one thing that stood out above all else.

She was going back to King’s Landing.

She was going back to Aemond.

King’s Landing

“Get up!” Aemond snarled at the squire in front of him. “I thought you were here to train, not lie on your back like a whore!”

The boy scrambled to his feet, wiping mud off of his cheek. “Yes, my Prince.”

Aemond sighed. There were many young lords looking to squire for him, and so far none of them had impressed him at all. Most weren’t even worth using as training fodder. He had to give the Blackwood lad some credit — at least he hadn’t started crying yet.

“Keep your sword up,” Aemond rolled his eyes. “And maybe you’ll be able to stay upright.” It was as close as he would get to offering advice.

“Prince Aemond!” A voice called.

Aemond looked toward the walkway, seeing Ser Criston hurrying down the steps. “What is it, Cole?” He did not have much patience for his mother’s lackey, having always found Ser Criston to be a bit…well, if loyalty could be a fault, then it certainly was in Ser Criston.

Cole stopped, offering a curt nod that could perhaps pass as a bow. “Your mother The Queen bids you attend her. She is in her chambers.”

“Wonderful,” Aemond couldn’t imagine what his mother could have to say. He loved her well enough, and she him, but they never had much use for each other. She often scolded him, calling him too wild, too unruly, and yet he knew he did not get half the scoldings that his brother did. “Take care of this one.”

Ser Criston stared at the Blackwood boy in disdain, but nodded, shedding his white cloak and setting it away from the mud.

Aemond sheathed his sword, removing his gloves and hurrying toward the stairs. His boots splashed through the dir, and he saw many curious eyes turn his way.

Only once he was inside the castle did he slow to a walk, making his way toward his mother’s chambers. He passed many groups of lords and ladies, all of whom bowed in greeting, but he did not acknowledge them. They weren’t with his time.

A group of ladies-in-waiting gathered by the stairs, meaning he would have to walk straight past them. He recognized one of them by her red hair: the Tully girl. He thought her name might have been Myria or Myra or something like that. She had been presented at court a few months prior, with it plain as day that her family was angling to make a match between the two of them.

Now, as she had when she had first seen him in the receiving hall, she did not meet his gaze, bobbing a curtsy without ever looking him in the eye. He hurried past, hearing them erupt into giggles when they thought he was out of earshot.

It was always like that. Why shouldn’t they laugh at the maimed prince? He was practically a circus attraction. All he had to look forward to was a future married to some random lady who couldn’t look him in the eye, let alone work up the courage to speak to him. He tried not to let it bother him, after all, they weren’t worth his time.

His chambers were in the same tower as his mother’s, and he passed the closed door of his room as he knocked on her door. “Mother? You sent for me?” A maid swung open the door.

“Yes, Aemond,” his mother was seated on the sofa, his niece and nephew playing with a maid on the floor in front of her. “You can all leave us.”

Aemond stood with his hands behind his back, quirking a smile at his young niece as she was carried from the room.

“Sit, Aemond,” Alicent sighed. “We need to talk.”

“You make it sound very serious,” he dropped into the chair across from her. “How may I help.”

He swallowed nervously. Was this to be it then? Was today the day that he would be officially tied to one of the sycophants roaming around the castle? Gods, don’t let it be the Tully girl. Someone with some backbone, at least.

“I called for you because I think this is something that should be entrusted to your skills. You know the dragon keepers better than anyone.”

That did catch his attention. “The dragon keepers? Is something wrong with the dragons?”

Alicent sighed again, and he realized suddenly that his mother looked worried. More worried than he could ever recall seeing her, except that day when he had lost his eye. Even his father’s declining health had never caused the dark circles that now surrounded her eyes, and he could see that the skin of her nails had been picked until it bled.

“The Princess Rhaenyra is coming to make a petition,” she said finally. “She brings with her all of her children, and all of their dragons. The Dragon Put must be made ready for her and her hoard, and I must prepare a feast and a ball and all the like.”

Aemond felt his mouth go dry. “Her children? All of them? It couldn’t be. It seemed almost impossible. Nine long years had passed since…since…

“All of them,” his mother confirmed. “Which is the other reason I needed to speak with you.”

More likely, it was the only reason she had asked to speak with him. Subtlety was not his mother’s strong suit, and there was no reason the dragon keepers could not be briefed through a simple message. She had wanted to speak to him about his half-sister’s family, in person, for a reason.

Alicent leaned forward. “Aelinor will be with them, Aemond. But she is not the girl you remember. It has been nearly ten years, and you must remember who she is, and who you are.”

“And who is that, mother?”

“You are the legitimate second son of the King,” Alicent said. “And she is the bastard daughter of a false heir, who has spent nine years being fed their lies and derision, far from any realm of reason. The Aelinor you knew is gone.”

Aemond tensed. “That seems….Father has settled his succession, and we should not—”

“I am not here to argue succession with you, Aemond!” His mother snapped. “I want to be sure that you understand. When they enter this hall, it must be us, and it must be them. The fate of our family may very well depend on it.”

He knew that the succession crisis was constant fodder for the King’s critics, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Blast the Seven Kingdoms, and damn the succession. He didn’t care if his half-sister or her bastards, or his own damn brother ascended the throne. He disliked them all equally. All he cared for was Aelinor.

“Besides,” his mother sat back, fanning herself weakly with her hand. “She is betrothed to Jacaerys.”

“What? Jace?” Aemond spat, unable to contain himself. “Why have I not heard of this?”

“They haven’t been to court to announce it.” Aliecent sighed. “Knowing Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, Jacaerys has almost certainly bedded her already. What better way to secure their line?”

“That Strong boy will never—”

“Watch yourself, Aemond. Please.” His mother waved him away.

He didn’t want to draw out the conversation longer than necessary, and quickly stormed from the room. His mother had certainly achieved her objective, which was reminding him why he hated Jacaerys Velaryon so deeply. His own chambers were only a few doors away, and once he was there, he flung open the window and screamed into the open air. He didn’t give a damn if everyone in the courtyard could hear him.

For nine long years, he had stared across the sea toward Dragonstone. He had requested this chamber specifically because it faced south. And for the first few years, with decreasing frequency, he had begged his mother to grant him permission to fly that way. To where Aelinor was. To…he wasn’t quite sure what he had wanted to do. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone.

And now they had given her to Jace. Jace did not deserve her. That Strong boy did not deserve to breathe the same air as her.

Or, did he?

It had been many years since he had seen Aelinor, and she could have changed. She could be different to how he remembered her.

And she might not…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think about that. The truth was staring him in the face, the rage settling into his bones with every seething breath he took. Jace did not deserve Aelinor, but then, neither did he. He was just the scarred second son, after all, and she should be the lady of some great house. He wasn’t jealous, he was concerned for his childhood friend, who had been treated so carelessly by her family.

Given to Jace. He cursed aloud.

Still, his gaze drifted to his writing desk, and to the small box that sat in the top drawer. It had sat there for almost eight years, waiting.

And it had all been for nothing.

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #lady of the ashes #fanfiction #fanfic

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

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Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 2 P.2

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 7390 (both parts)

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Canon compliant but things change around. Currently cross-posting on A03. Will be approximately 12 chapters aligning with season 1.

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2

Footsteps sounded behind her, coming from the tunnel. She hurried into the cave, determined to stop whoever was coming from seeing Aemond. But it wasn’t guards investigating, as she had hoped, but rather her brothers and new cousins.

“Aelinor?” Luc asked. “What are you doing up?”

“I was taking a walk,” she lied badly. “Cousins, it is good to finally meet you. My condolences on—”

“Did you see it?” Baela interrupted. “We could see it from our window. Someone stole Vhagar.”

Aelinor’s eyes widened. “I…did not see that.”

Only Jace eyes her suspiciously. “How did you not? She was resting just over that hill, you would have heard her.”

“I was distracted and I—”

“Lina! Lina, did you see? I was flying and I—” Aemond came running around the corner, skidding to a halt when he saw the group.

“It’s him!” Baela shouted.

“It’s me,” he confirmed.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.” He countered.

Aelinor whipped her head toward him. “Aemond, that was cruel!”

He didn’t respond, still staring defiantly at the others.

“Aelinor!” Jace glared at her. “You knew? You stood by and let him steal Vhagar?”

Aelinor took a step back. “He didn’t technically steal her. She’s a dragon and she—”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her!” Aemond shouted back at Baela.

“Lina? Are you going to let him do this?” Luc stared at his elder sister, obviously confused.

She bit her lip. “He…Baela, dragons are fickle creatures. Chances are if he was able to claim Vhagar, she would never have accepted you. It’s just the—”

“You’re a traitor!” Baela spat back at her. Aelinor tried not to let it sting. She barely knew the girl after all, and she was complicit in her being robbed of her mother’s dragon.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Aemond snapped.

“It’s fine,” Aelinor reached out to grasp his sleeve. “It’s alright.”

“Even now you stand with him?” Jace shook his head. “Honestly, Aelinor, him of all people?”

“What does that mean?” She shifted closer to Aemond. She didn’t like this, not one bit. Aelinor hated confrontation, and there was a reason that Aemond had grown up fighting her battles for her. She might argue with Jace, but she didn’t want to truly fight with him.

“What am I going to do now?” Baela turned to the others. “That was supposed to be my dragon.”

“Maybe you could claim another?” Aelinor suggested helpfully. “There is still—”

“I wasn’t talking to you!”

She felt the moment Aemond snapped, taking a step forward and pulling her with him. “Maybe they can find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.”

Aelinor barely had time to reach before Baela was running at Aemond, and he was shoving the girl to the ground with one arm. “Stop it!” Aelinor shouted.

Rhaena came next, landing an impressive punch to Aemond’s face. Aelinor was crying now, trying to pull him away. But she knew he was too far gone, and he reeled back and punched her cousin in the face.

“Stop it! Please stop it, all of you!” She cried.

Jace came next, and Aemond shoved Aelinor hard, pushing her out of the way as he started fighting her brothers. Soon they were all on him, fists flying and screams echoing through the cave. Aelinor jumped up, trying to pull them away, but Jace — her own brother — was the one to reach back, plant a hand on her chest, and shove her away. She landed awkwardly on a rock, a sharp pain cutting into her collar bone, crying out in pain.

Suddenly Aemond was standing, one hand around Luc’s neck, the other clasping a rock. “You’ll die screaming just as your father did, bastards!”

“Aemond!” Aelinor shouted, crying loudly. She wanted to be brave, she should have been brave enough to go and get help, but all she could do was sit there, sobbing and in pain, as her family fought each other.

“My father is still alive!” Luc choked out.

The sound of metal being drawn rung sharp through the cave, and Aelinor stared with blurry eyes as Jace pulled a knife. She knew the knife, it had been a gift from Ser Laenor — their supposed father — for his last nameday. It was pretty, she remembered thinking, but in that moment she had never seen anything so horrible.

“Stop it, Jace. Please, please stop it! He was going to hurt Aemond, or Aemond was going to hurt Jace, and she just wanted it all to be over.

And then it nearly was. The knife was on the ground, Jace and Aemond were throwing sand and fighting, it should have been over.

She watched Luc’s arm arc through the air, heard the horrible sound it made, heard Aemond’s screams as he clutched at his face.

“Aemond!” She screamed, scrambling to his side as guards filled the room.

“What’s happening?” Captain Westerling shouted.

Aelinor grabbed at Aemond’s hands, blood flooding between them. “Aemond? Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”

She wailed as hands grasped her by the waist, lifting her up and away from him.

Aemond was in agony.

The maester was stitching up his eye, or what was left of it, in a crowded hall, and it was all he could do not to scream. Part of him didn’t want to give those Strong bastards the satisfaction, but mainly he didn’t want to upset Aelinor. The girl was clinging to her hand with both of hers, and she hadn’t stopped crying since they brought him in. Even once she was assured that he wasn’t going to die, she just kept crying and refusing to let anyone draw her away from his side.

She was also bleeding. Aemond had tried to insist that the maesters see to her first, as there was a nasty cut just below her neck that was staining her long braid and dripping onto her necklace, but no one had listened to him. So he had resolved to be as quiet as possible and hope that the maesters would be quick, so that she could be seen to next.

He couldn’t help but note that her brothers, if they could even be called that at this point, had yet to check on their sister. It only added to the rage simmering in his gut.

Another sharp pain struck his face, and he winced.

“Aemond?” Aelinor asked anxiously, squeezing his hand.

“Can it be saved, Maester?” His mother asked. She had taken his other side, and it was a testament to how worried she was that she had not asked Aelinor to move.

“The flesh will heal, My Queen, but the eye is lost.”

Aemond gasped, and Aelinor started to cry hards.

People were flooding into the room. He saw Aelinor’s mother, along with Prince Daemon and then the King entered as well. There was shouting, questions being asked and accusations being tossed about, but Aemond leveled his gaze on his uncle. He was just standing there, observing everything with an arrogant smirk on his face.

And Aemond thought, if he removed some of the maliciousness from that smile, he looked an awful lot like Lina.

“What happened?” His father demanded, and all of the children, save Aegon, who knew nothing and Aelinor, who was still crying, began to shout.

“My children were defending themselves, Your Grace,” Princess Rhaenyra insisted. “Vile insults were levied against them.”

That was true enough, Aemond supposed. But in the moment he had just been so angry. Why did they have to be there to ruin what should have been the happiest moment of his life? Wh y did they feel that they had to remind him that he didn’t deserve it?

“I will have the truth from you boy,” his father clapped a hand on his arm. “Where did you hear these accusations?”

It was little effort for Aemond to mutter, “It was Aegon,” as he had no great love for his brother and was irrationally irritated that Aegon had been off chasing chambermaids when this happened to him.

Could he fly a dragon with only one eye?

He felt a bit ridiculous for letting that worry irk him. Wasn’t he always urging Aelinor to fly, even though she could not properly use one hand?

“It doesn’t matter, Your Grace,” the Queen protested. “They attacked him!”

“Aemond attacked us!” Jace shouted.

“Will no one give me the truth?” Viserys looked around. “You, girl. Tell me now, who started this unacceptable affair?”

Aelinor looked up, tears and snot running down her face, and Aemond felt a twinge of resentment toward his father. Lifting his hand, he carefully wiped away some of her tears, giving her a soft smile to let her know it was alright. It was alright for her to tell the truth. He wouldn’t ask her to betray her brothers.

Though his smile probably wasn’t all that comforting, with blood and gauze covering his face.

Aelinor sniffled. “What?”

“Who started the fight?” Queen Alicent was shaking.

Aelinor swallowed. Everyone was staring at her, and she hated it. She just wanted to go to sleep, and wake up and have all of this be a dream. It wasn’t real. Her brothers and cousins and Aemond hadn’t fought. They hadn’t said horrible things to each other, and Aemond hadn’t lost his eye.

And…Aemond didn’t have a dragon.

But everyone was staring, and she knew that it wasn’t a dream, and she did have to answer the question.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what the Queen and King were asking. But she was so young, and she was angry to have seen her friend hurt, to have seen him so quickly turn from exhilaration to rage as accusations were hurled against him.

And her brothers….they were standing across the room. Not with her. Never with her.

“Baela his Aemond first,” she said quietly. “And then everyone was fighting.”

Everything erupted in a single moment. The adults were arguing, people shouting and screaming at each other, but Aemond didn’t care. He just looked down at Aelinor, who had immediately latched back onto his arm and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Eye. Fair enough. He probably looked terrifying.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, leaning close so she could hear him over the noise.

“It was the truth,” she replied.

“I will have one of her children’s eyes in return.” Every head whipped up as the Queen spoke.

Aemond shouldn’t have been surprised. His mother had always been impassioned, but demanding the eye of one of her stepdaughter’s children seemed excessive even for her. The King wouldn’t allow it, no one would, but the question was a shock nonetheless.

And then his mother had a knife, and everyone was screaming and shouting.

Aemond wrapped an arm around Aelinor, drawing her into his chest. “It will be over soon, I swear it.”

If anyone had seen them, they might have laughed. Why was the boy without an eye comforting the girl? Why was she sobbing louder than anyone in the room, even when her mother was sliced with the knife and her younger brother screamed in terror.It was almost comical. But no one noticed them amongst the chaos. Or…almost no one.

Princess Rhaenyra did. In that moment when she felt the world cleave in two for everyone to see, she found herself and her sons on one side, and her daughter on the other, in the arms of her Alicent Hightower’s son. And fear flooded her, as she foresaw a chasm growing between her and her daughter.

And Prince Daemon, he too saw them. He saw the bold little girl who had declared him to be her father, he saw her pick a side. Perhaps unknowingly, and certainly without knowing the gravity of that choice, but he could see it plain as day. If he were to step into this fray, he could not be assured that his daughter would be with him.

The chaos ended, and slowly the room broke apart. It took both Princess Rhaenyra and her grandfather, Lord Corlys, to pull Aelinor away, and they carried her kicking and screaming from the room. Aemond only let her go because he knew there was still work to be done on his eye, and he didn’t want her to see it.

“We should leave immediately,” his mother declared.

“We’ll leave in two days’ time,” the King countered. “Or have you forgotten that your son is injured?”

His mother looked a little hurt that he had scolded her.

“It is alright, mother,” he stood warily from the chair. “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

That was little comfort to his mother, who would never understand what it meant to be a dragon rider, or the void in his soul that had been filled when he had soared through the skies.

But his father did, and the man offered him a tight smile. “I am glad for you, Aemond. Now take care.”

It was as close to praise as he had ever received from his father.

“Aelinor is hurt too,” he coughed, leaning a little on his mother for support. “Can you have someone go to her?”

Viserys nodded. “She will be taken care of.”

“Come,” his mother guided him from the room. “We must look after you, as our paramount concern.”

Aelinor’s brothers were not speaking to her. For an entire day, as people came and went from their rooms, no one spoke to her. Her mother only offered her a pat on the head as her wound was taken care of, and Ser Laenor was gone almost immediately, distracted by something else. Luc and Jace ignored her. She was almost glad of it, for she felt that if ever there was a time she would truly lose her temper, it would be now. She knew they were angry because of what she had said to her grandfather, but it had been the truth. And she knew, most of all, that they were angry because Aemond had been right. Why shouldn’t he have Vhagar? And they were bastards, all of them. They might have different fathers, but they were all bastards. And it wounded her brothers so much more deeply than it hurt her. It was daybreak on the second day after the funeral when Aelinor looked out her window and saw trunks being carried down to a ship bearing royal standards. They were leaving. Aemond and his family were finally leaving. She wouldn’t let it be without a goodbye. Bursting from her room, she hurried past her brothers and their maid. “Aelinor, where are you going? You’re forbidden from—” “I’m going to say goodbye,” she declared, giving Jace her dirtiest look. “So don’t even try to stop me.” He didn’t, though he would have failed regardless. Aelinor ran through the castle, the way unfamiliar but marked by the parade of belongings being carried away. “Princess!” Servants shouted as she rushed by, but she didn’t stop. At the top of the stairs, all of the rooms had their doors open, bar one. Up, up and then she was bursting through the door, only seconds later wondering if it actually was Aemond’s room. But there he was, still sitting on his bed, bandages wrapped around half of his face, staring out the window. “What are you—” he turned angrily. “Aelinor? What are you doing here?” She flung herself across the room, enveloping him in a hug. “I didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.” He squeezed her tightly, but when she pulled away, she saw how he kept the injured side of his face turned away. “Why won’t you look at me?” she asked, tilting her head. “It’s ugly,” Aemond said quietly. “So? It’s you,” Aelinor laughed. “And my hand is ugly, but you never have a problem with that.” “Of course not, it’s—” He was going to say it’s you, which of course was the exact logic she had used. Letting out a little laugh, he turned to her in acceptance. She could always do that, make things seem so impossibly simple. “Anyway,” Aelinor moved to sit next to him on the bed. “You were so dramatic the other day, claiming a dragon and all,” she gave him an affectionate nudge, “that I didn’t get to tell you my news.” “Your news?” he asked, grateful for the distraction. “Mmhmm,” she leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “I know who my father is now.” “Your father?” He almost said Ser Laenor, but they both knew that to be false. Even if they had never said it, even if he would have died before calling her a bastard, they knew that Ser Laenor was not her father. “Who?” “Prince Daemon,” she said with wide eyes. “He’s very scary. I don’t think he likes me.” “Everyone likes you, Lina. It would be impossible not to.” She grinned at that. “Well, that doesn’t matter. Because I like you best of all.” His cheeks warmed. “Really? Even now, when I’m not your handsome prince anymore?” Aelinor’s face turned serious. “You will always be my handsome prince, Aemond. Always.” Words caught in his throat, but he reached down and grabbed her injured hand. It was ungloved, for she had run too quickly to catch

him. He traced the scars on her palm carefully. “Our mothers really hate each other now, don’t they?” she whispered. “I think so,” Aemond nodded. “I think…I think things might be different now.” There were a thousand things wrapped up in that statement, and somehow both of them understood perfectly. “I’ll miss you,” Aelinor’s lip quivered. “I don’t want to have to miss you.” “And I’ll miss you,” Aemond didn’t want to cry in front of her. “But even if…even if it’s a long time before we see each other, you know nothing will change, don’t you? I’ll love you, same as ever.” “And I’ll love you,” Aelinor leaned her head onto his shoulder. Aelinor meant it the way any nine-year-old could mean it. She loved Aemond as her protector, as her friend, with all of the passion that a girl her age could muster. Aemond…perhaps he meant it only a little differently. “We could write?” she said hopefully. He knew that would not be allowed. “Perhaps I’ll fly by Dragonstone on Vhagar. And once your saddle is ready, you can visit on Darrax.” “I would love to,” she gave him a sad smile. They both knew that it would be forbidden. Aemond suddenly felt the urge to change the subject. “The maester says I must have something fitted for my eye.” “An eye patch?” Aelinor asked. “Like a pirate?” She loved stories about pirates. “Well, yes,” it would be embarrassing, for him to have to walk around with a permanent reminder of that day. An eye patch, and a scar, and… “but something for my actual eye. Mother wants to commission a glass eye, but I thought I could have one made. Aegon suggested a diamond, but I thought something in Vhagar’s colors. What do you think?” Aelinor leaned back, lifting both hands to grip his face. One of her small hands traced the bandages, while the other gently brushed at his eyebrow. And then she reached toward her neck, and ripped her necklace free in one hard motion. “What are you doing?” he protested, already reaching forward to fix it. “Your necklace!” Did she not want it anymore? “You should use this,” she held out the pendant, chain dangling from her fingers. “for your eye. I think blue would look perfect.” It would never look perfect. He was always going to look scarred and horrible, but he knew then that the only thing he would ever accept for his eye, would be that sapphire. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly. “It was a gift for you.” “And now it is a gift for you,” Aelinor dropped it into his palm. “To remember me.” As if he could ever forget her. “You’ll be okay, Lina,” he promised. “And we’ll see each other again.” “We will,” she nodded. “I’m already counting the days.” “Me too.”

Aemond sailed away, the sapphire held tightly in his hand, his gaze set on the island fading into the distance. Aelinor attended the funeral of her first father, and the wedding of her second. She watched her mother wed her father in the Valyrian tradition, as their dragons circled overhead. But her gaze was on the south, where she knew he was waiting.

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #fanfiction #fanfic

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 2 P.1

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 7390 (both parts)

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

A/N: Canon compliant but things change around. Currently cross-posting on A03. Will be approximately 12 chapters aligning with season 1.

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2

124 AC

Princess Aelinor loved the Dragon Pit. If she had been permitted to, she might have spent all day there, hiding from the world, perhaps with a book under her arm, in the company of the creatures she loved above all else. Even if she were sleeping on the straw, it still would have been perfect.

Well, Aemond would have to be there for it to truly be perfect.

She did love the dragons though, it was true, nearly as much as Aemond did. Her own dragon egg had hatched when she was only small, but had grown at a rate that surpassed even the dragon keepers estimations. She now had the largest of all her family’s young dragons. Darrax had outgrown Sunfyre, and based on his wing size the dragonkeepers expected he would grow even larger still. Aelinor had yet to fly on Darrax, though she had mounted him on several occasions.

Aegon said it was a pity that such a beast of war had been tamed by a little mouse, but Aelinor did not mind her meekness. She would much rather spend her days learning about and spoiling her dragon than riding him into battle. She was quite content to decorate Darrax’s pen with pretty wildflowers rather than battle insignia. Aemond was usually with her, though he focused more on the dragon than the decorations. Darrax, as an extension of her own heart, allowed Aemond into his company, even permitting the older boy to stroke his scales on occasion. Her dragon was fiercely protective, but he had good taste in character. She knew it meant a great deal for Aemond to be so close to her dragon, when he did not have one of his own.

“The Dragon Keeper said they shall soon have a saddle ready for you,” Aemond said. He was sitting on a rock in Darrax’s cave, studying the dragon with a careful gaze. “Perhaps this one will work better.”

“It is not the saddle that is the problem,” Aelinor reminded him. “But the reins. And I fail to see what can be done about it.”

Darrax gave a huff, as if in sympathy, and Aelinor reached up to pat his black scales. In the torchlight they glowed dimly, but she knew that if she were to take him up into the daylight they would shine a thousand shades of green and deep blue. It always reminded her of the heavy blue pendant that had not left her throat since she was four years old.

“Don’t say that, Lina,” Aemond protested. “You have a chance to fly, and you must give everything to take it.”

Aelinor shook her head, “Aemond, it is true that Darrax could bear me as a rider, but I will never be able to command him as a dragon rider should. My hand is—”

“Damn your hand!” Aemond shouted, jumping to his feet. Darrax let out a hiss in warning. “You’ll never be able to if you don’t try.”

She knew why it frustrated him so. Despite his best efforts, her uncle had never been able to claim a dragon, and his own egg had never hatched.The other boys teased him relentlessly, often driving him to riskier actions as he sought to have a dragon of his own. Aelinor could not bare to tease him over it, her heart being void of such cruelty, but she could see why it was hard for him to watch her settle for less.

Lifting her hand close to the torchlight, Aelinor sighed. “I can’t hold the reins, Aemond.”

“Then we’ll find another way,” he insisted. “Darrax will learn to respond to different commands, or I will—”

“Or what? You’ll ride with me? And you shall hold the reins while I give commands?” She was teasing slightly now.

“We’ll find a way,” was all he said, though his gaze had settled on her hand.

In the five years since her accident, Aelinor’s hand had never really improved. The wounds had closed, and she had spent many days on bedrest as the maesters tended to her. Throughout all of that, Aemond had stayed right by her side, and it had often seemed as if it pained him more than it pained her. She sometimes thought that he might even blame himself for her injury, though she never would.

“You know what I think?” She said, changing the subject.

“What is that, Lina?”

Aelinor smiled. “It is time for Jace’s lesson. Come we can go watch him fumble over his High Valyrian again.” She did not often tease her brothers, but their inability to master the tongue of their ancestors did make her chuckle. And she knew it made Aemond happy, if only slightly.

“Very well,” Aemond offered a curt bow to her dragon. “Until we meet again, Darrax. Come, Lina.”

She grabbed her leather glove from where she had left it, and carefully pulled it over the curled fingers of her left hand. The glove was itchy and uncomfortable, but she had only been able to handle a few months of mutterings about how unpleasant her hand was to look at before she gave in to Queen Alicent’s suggestion and began to wear a glove. Any chance she got to take if off, she did.

The two linked arms as they made their way up from the tunnels and toward the center of the Dragon Pit, Aelinor cheerfully greeting each of the keeps as they passed. In the past few years, the nine-year-old princess and the twelve-year-old prince had become a familiar sight to the keeps, more often than not attached at the hip. It was common knowledge that if Aemond Targaryen was sulking around the Dragon Pit, one just needed to guide him to the princess to drastically improve his mood. There was some hope among the more concerned dragon keepers that her influence might calm him from his relentless and reckless determination to claim a dragon.

“My mother should have had her baby by now,” Aelinor commented.

“And you did not wish to be there?”

“She said it would frighten me,” Aelinor wrinkled her nose. “But how should I know what frightens me unless I have seen it?”

Aemond could not claim to have seen the horrors of childbirth, but he could vividly remember that day in Princess Rhaenyra’s chambers all those years ago, when he had seen a silver-haired babe while servants mopped blood off the floors. No, he did not think Aelinor should have to see all that.

“Do you know what I’ve heard?” He decided to distract her.

“What?”

He nodded toward her good hand, which was playing with the sapphire that hung on a gold chain around her neck. “I heard that it is the fashion for ladies to wear matching rings and earrings and all the like. Now, I don’t know much about jewels, but I worry you are falling out of fashion.”

Aelinor gasped. “Aemond!”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “I shall have no choice but to remedy the situation on your next nameday.”

She shook her head. “Don’t you dare. You already give me too much. Besides, I don’t like jewelry. I just like this.”

Aemond felt his heart warm a little at that. “Alright, Princess. Then let’s go watch our brothers make fools of themselves.”

“Yes, let’s!”

An hour later found Aemond still in the Dragon Put, watching as Jace tried and failed to tame Vermax. The princes’ arrival had brought the news of a new little brother for the Velaryons, and Aelinor had been excused for the day to go and greet the new arrival.

Aemond tried not to mope, but being left in the company of his nephews and brother, all of whom had dragons, was less than ideal. Not when he knew that he would be so much better at this than all of them. Aelinor was the only one other than him who truly understood what it meant to be a dragon rider, but because of her damn brothers, she would never be able to reach her full potential. And he would never get to fly at all.

“We have a gift for you, uncle,” Luc called out to him.

Aemond looked up, disbelief etched on his face. “You? A gift?”

“From all of us,” Aegon wrapped an arm around Jace, who still looked a bit dejected by his pathetic failures. “Found, in a cave off of the Narrow Sea, and brought here especially for you.”

He knew better, or he should have, but he still felt something like hope stirring in his gut. Was this his chance? Was he finally going to have a dragon of his own?

“Behold,” Luc walked backward, and Aemond followed him like a hopeful idiot. “The Pink Dread!”

Aemond’s hopes crashed to the ground when they leapt to the side, revealing a fat pig with wings strapped to its back.

“How could you? You—” the word bastards hung in the back of his throat, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he just returned to his corner to sulk, bitter at the world. Of course Aegon, his own brother, had to join in with them. It wasn’t fair, none of it was.

After her mother had retired to her chambers, Aelinor had set up at the large writing desk in front of the window. The only other source of light in the room was the blazing hearth, which was currently going at full strength to keep her mother and the baby warm. But as it was the very same hearth that had horrifically scarred her hand, she did not like to sit by it unless she had to.

Aelinor did not have the dexterity needed for needlework, or many of the other ladylike pursuits, though she was very fond of dancing, but she had always been an extraordinary patient child. Her grandfather, the King, had in the weeks after her injury taken the time to show her how to paint his figurines with one hand. He carved them himself, very carefully as he too had only one good hand (now he was missing an arm entirely), and so he had set his youngest granddaughter to the task of painting them. His model of Old Valyria grew increasingly colorful with each of her contributions.

Currently she was applying silver paint to a statue of the Valyrian god Vhagar, taking care to apply each stroke of paint in very thin layers.

“Did you see his face?” Her brothers came bursting through the doors, and she quickly moved to secure her painting. It had happened on more than one occasion that their rowdy behaviour ruined one of her projects.

“Be quiet, you two,” she hissed. “Mother and the baby are sleeping.” The baby, Joffrey, had been wholly uninteresting to Aelinor, but her mother was exhausted, and she was determined to preserve that peace.

“You should have stayed, Lina,” Luc came up to her side. Of her two brothers he was the more mischievous, having latched onto Aemond’s nickname for her as a way to poke fun. She loved him, of course, but gods he could be irritating. “Our trick worked perfectly.”

“Trick? What trick?” She wiped her hands on her apron.

“On Aemond,” Luc laughed. “We had a pig, with wings on it! I thought he was going to cry.”

Aelinor saw red. “You did what? Why can’t you both just leave him alone?”

“It was Aegon’s idea,” Jace said quickly, probably just because his sister was upset, not because he genuinely felt sorry for Aemond. “And we didn’t ask him to go down into the pit. That was all him.”

She felt a twinge of worry. “Is he alright?”

“A bit singed, and embarrassed. But alright.” Jace assured her.

Aelinor frowned, turning back to her painting. She hated that their families could not just get along, and she hated that the boys teased Aemond over something she knew hurt him so deeply. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The knowledge of that was the only reason she did not run to Aemond immediately, as she knew he would have done for her. He would be embarrassed, and he did not like for her to witness his humiliation.

Tomorrow she would go to him, and everything would be alright.

Aelinor spent the next morning sitting on the floor of Helaena’s room, listening to her aunt’s description of a centipede that crawled through her hands. Her aunt was harmless, but Aelinor was certainly not a fan of the bugs.

“Running, running through the dark.” Helaena let the centipede twirl around her wrist. “But never fast enough.”

Aelinor was bored. More than that, she was worried. She had not had a chance to speak with Aemond that morning, and now she knew he would be out in the training yard with Aegon and her brothers. She wanted to make sure he was alright, but she couldn’t do that from in here.

“You may go,” Helaena said.

“What?” Aelinor was started to find her aunt staring directly at her.

“I won’t keep you apart. Others will, but not me.”

Aelinor blinked. “Uh, thank you?” Her aunt was very strange.

Helaena didn’t look up as Aelinor stood and brushed out the lavender velvet of her dress. “Blood and bars and iron.” Helaena sang.

Aelinor was a little embarrassed at how quickly she fled the room. She never quite got used to Helaena’s oddness, and her words always left a chill on Aelinor’s skin. Something about it was just…wrong.

When she emerged into the training yard, she stepped into a chaotic scene. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother’s Kingsguard, was being restrained by three other guards, while Ser Criston Cole taunted him. The boys lay scattered through the mud. She went to JAce first, who had blood running from his nose. “What on earth has happened?”

Jace just shook his head. “Things you wouldn’t understand.”

That answer annoyed Aelinor. Why couldn’t she understand? Just because she was younger than him? It wasn’t fair, and she gave him a shove. “You’re so mean, Jace.”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond appeared beside her, having seen her grow angry at her brother.

“Of course you’re here,” Jace scoffed.

“You were….” Aelinor looked between them, confused. “You were all training together. Why do you look like you’ve been fighting?”

“Just go play with your stupid prince, Aelinor. Since you don’t care about your real family.” Jace gave her a dirty look, before grabbing Luc around the arm and pulling him away.

Aelinor was at a loss. “What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Aemond promised. He still didn’t fully understand what had happened here either, between Ser Criston and Ser Harwin, but he knew it had been serious. “Everyone is just angry today.”

“And you!” Aelinor whirled to face him, remembering why she had sought him out. “Are you angry? Because I heard you went into the Dragon Pit by yourself again.”

Aemond floundered for a response. “I…they had a pig and it…”

“You can’t, Aemond! Just because you don’t have a dragon doesn’t mean you can be stupid.”

For the first time in his life, Aemond felt himself growing angry at Aelinor. What did she know of his suffering? She had always had a dragon, and she would never have to fight for her place. Everything was just handed to her, often by him, and yet she thought she could tell him what to do with his own life. It was absurd.

“Just shut up, Aelinor. You’re too little to get it.”

Aemond gaped at him, hurt etched across her face. “Aemond…”

He stormed away, leaving her standing alone in the training yard.

Aelinor liked to think that she was too old to be weeping at every little thing, but the thought of fighting with Aemond, of him being angry with her, was enough to have her sobbing all the way back to her family’s chambers. She hadn’t meant to make him angry, only she was so very worried about him. Why couldn’t he understand how important he was to her?

When she stepped into the parlor, her mother looked up from her seat by the fire. The baby was nowhere to be seen, but several maids were bustling around, packing things in wooden crates.

“Oh, my sweet,” Rhaenyra reached for her, and she went easily into her mother’s embrace. “They’ve already told you?”

“Told me what?” Aelinor’s voice was muffled by her mother’s shoulder.

“That we’re leaving, darling,” Rhaenyra tried to wipe her tears. “On the morrow, we leave for Dragonstone.”

Aelinor gasped. “What? Why?” She had never been to Dragonstone, but it sounded very far away from King’s Landing.

“It is for the best,” is all her mother said. “We’ll be leaving before sun-up so that we have most of the day to settle in.”

“Before sun up?” Aelinor shook her head. “Mother, can I stay here? With Darrax and Aemond and Helaena.” She might think her aunt odd, but she was her closest female friend, and Aelinor found she did not want to be without her.

“No,” Rhaenyra’s voice was harsh. “Darrax will come with us, but it is time that our family was left alone, and I know Aemond and Helaena’s mother will want the same.”

Aelinor didn’t much care what their mothers wanted. All she could think about was that she would be leaving tomorrow, without Aemond. “Can I go and say goodbye?”

“It’s late, darling. “You must sleep, for we have an early day and much preparations to do.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Aelinor. Go to your chambers and help the maids pack your things.”

Had Aelinor been stronger, or had she not been in some kind of shock, she might have argued more. But she was a tired little girl after a very trying day, and so she obeyed her mother. And when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, she let her father bundle her in her cloak and carry her to their ship. It wasn’t until King’s Landing was a speck in the distance that she began to cry, for she hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

Aemond woke early, with a heart filled with regret. The sun was shining through his window, heralding a new day, though he could not find any joy in it. He had been cruel to Aelinor, when she had done nothing to deserve it, and he must make it up to her. Remembering her refusal to accept more jewels, he resolved to collect some fresh flowers from the gardens. She often liked to braid them into her hair (and sometimes his as well), and today he would allow it. If he groveled enough, he could probably retrieve some lemon tarts from the kitchens as well.

His mother was pacing in front of her window when he entered, planning to inform her of his intentions for the day.

“Is something the matter, mother?” He asked, noting the tension in her mouth.

“Oh, everything’s a mess, Aemond,” she sighed, giving him a sad look. “The Princess Rhaenyra and her family are to remove themselves to Dragonstone at once.”

Aemond froze, horror flooding through him. “They can’t!” He couldn’t bear for Aelinor to be all the way on Dragonstone. It was only a short flight by Dragon, but he did not have one, and Aelinor could not fly. “I shall go stop them!”

“It’s too late, sweet boy,” Alicent sighed. “They have already left.”

Aemond shook his head, tearing from the room, but he only needed to reach the base of Maegor’s tower to see that it was true. Tapestries and carpets and trunks were being carried down the steps, to be packed onto the next ship to Dragonstone.

And Aelinor was already gone.

Some Time Later

Daemon Targaryen was her father.

The moment Aelinor first set eyes on him, standing across from her Aunt Laena’s casket, she knew it to be true. She could tell from the set of his mouth, which seemed so similar to her’s, as it had never been to her mother of…Ser Laenor’s. She knew it from the violet of his eyes, which shone with the same brightness as her own, so much more wildly than her mother’s.

And most of all, she knew it from how he stared at her. She could not tell if he was attempting to mask his grief with boredom, but his gaze had been leveled on her since the moment Ser Vaemond began the eulogy.

It wasn’t as though no one was looking their way. Especially as Ser Vaemond took the opportunity of the funeral, and the immunity it provided, to cast thinly-veiled insults at her family. They had all but fled King’s Landing for reasons she still did not understand, so it was not a surprise that they were an object of fascination. But Prince Daemon’s gaze was not one of curiosity. It was….more. She wasn’t quite sure why it unsettled her so.

Aelinor was almost embarrassed to admit that she had ben excited to go to Driftmark. Not to mourn her Aunt, who she had admired deeply despite having never met, but because Aemond, Helaena and her grandfather would be there. She had longed to see them all in the months since they had departed King’s Landing, and she had so much to share.

And now…she needed to speak to Aemond.

But he wouldn’t look at her. There had been no chance to talk upon arrival, and she had not been able to catch his gaze throughout the service. He just stood next to Aegon, who was looking predictably bored, and kept a serious expression on his face.

The first chance she had, she would pull him aside.

Aemond couldn’t look at her.

She was so close, so much closer than she had been in months, just standing on the other side of the casket, and he couldn’t work up the courage to look at her. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t deserve it.

Not when she stood there, wearing a dress of black velvet and a matching cloak, her silver hair in a neat plait down her back, and her sapphire pendant hanging at her throat. She was still wearing it. By some miracle, Aelinor was still wearing the sapphire he had given her, even when the last thing he had said to her before she had left had been cruel and harsh.

The past months had been an agony to him. Without Aelinor around, there was little to lessen the overwhelming feeling of being an outsider in his own family. He had thrown himself into his training, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. No matter how many times he let himself get walloped with a practice sword, or the few times where he managed to strike back with any skill, it was never enough to distract him from the fact that at the end of the day, he was alone. And any time he had asked his mother or his grandfather for permission to write to her, he had been turned away. Their reasons changed constantly, from wanting to give the Princess Rhaenyra her space, to more snide comments about keeping their distance.

He knew the real reason, of course. After the Princess’ family had left, rumors had abounded about the parentage of her three children, and his mother had not hesitated to capitalize on them. He did not mind so much when people criticized Jacaerys and Lucerys, not when they so obviously looked like Strongs, but Aelinor was…Aelinor. She might not have been her father’s daughter, but she was still a Targaryen, as much as the rest of them. As much as…him. She wasn’t like the rest of her family, overrun with scandal. She was just Aelinor.

She was just….his.

Aelinor had meant to find Aemond as soon as the funeral service was over, but as soon as she emerged into the courtyard, having left her cloak with one of the maids, her gaze landed on a long figure overlooking the ocean. She saw her mother out of the corner of her eye, met her gaze and saw Rhaenyra shake her head, but ultimately she was helpless to stop herself as her legs carried her toward Prince Daemon.

“Which one are you?” Daemon didn’t turn to look at her.

He was quite tall, with broad shoulders and a serious profile. He was not as pretty as Ser Laenor, but she supposed there was something appealing about the harsh lines in his face. That was not enough to keep the rest of the guests from avoiding him as if he were the plague.

“I am Aelinor,” she declared. “And you are my father.”

He didn’t look startled by her declaration. “You put that together, did you? Perhaps there is some hope for you after all.”

Aelinor didn’t quite know how to take that. Instead, she said, “Your wife died.”

“She did,” his jaw clenched.

“Then if you are sad, I am sorry,” she offered a small smile, even though he was not looking at her. “And I hope I shall come to know you, and your daughters.”

Bobbing a curtsy, and feeling as though she had satisfied whatever insane urge had demanded she speak to him, she moved to leave.

“Aelinor, was it?” She froze.

Daemon spun to look at her, and she was once again struck by the startling resemblance between them. She thought she might have seen the slightest softening in his eyes, and if he saw some of himself in her as well. “Do you have a dragon?”

“I do,” she lifted her chin defiantly. “He is called Darrax, and I can ride him now, but not for long.”

This seemed to satisfy him, for he jerked his head in a nod. Taking that as a dismissal, Aelinor moved around the edge of the party. Her brothers stood with their cousins, Baela and Rhaena. She wanted to go and talk to the girls, offer her condolences and welcome them into the family, but she had been somewhat at odds with her brothers since they moved to Dragonstone. She knew they were mourning Ser Harwin Strong, differently than she was. He had always been a comforting presence for her, closer to an uncle than a guard, but she knew that he represented a lot more to her brothers, and she was not without sympathy. But she could not escape the feeling that it was somehow their fault that she had been forced to leave everything behind. This sentiment was wrong of course, but as she was only nine, it was easiest to point fingers at things she understood.

Her brothers and cousins would have to wait, however, for she spotted the person she had been most anxious to see waiting by the stairs.

The urge to run to him was strong, but she managed to contain herself, nodding politely to her grandfather as she hurried toward him.

“Aemond,” she breathed as soon as she was next to him. “You’re here.”

She was close enough to touch. Aelinro was standing right there, a warm smile on her face, though her happy expression faded with every second he didn’t return her joy.

“Aelinor,” he nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

She deflated. “It’s good to see me? We haven’t seen each other in months. Darrax has grown and I—”

The urge to interrupt her, to spit that he didn’t care about her dragon nearly overcame him. He had been conditioned from the months of fending off his brother’s taunts, of feigning indifference in order to get by.

But this was Lina, and the truth was, he did care. He cared too much.

“Why don’t you hate me?” he asked. “I was cruel to you.”

Aelinor blinked at him for a moment, before an easy smile settled across her face. “No silly. You were mean to me. And you were mean because you were sad. You could never be cruel to me, you’re Aemond.” She said it like it was enough, as if being Aemond was some sort of testament to his character. But she was only nine, and he was twelve and so things seemed much simpler than they were.

“No, Aelinor. I should never have been mean to you, and then you were gone and I—”

“But I’m back now,” she grabbed his hand. “And I don’t want to waste any time, alright?”

There were a thousand other things he wanted to say, most of all that he agreed. He didn’t want to waste any time because who knew when they would next get to see each other. The sun was already setting, and he had wasted most of the day being sullen and bitter.

A dragon roared in the distance, and they both turned their heads.

“Vhagar,” Aelinor said sadly. “She must be lonely.”

The idea struck Aemond like a thunderbolt, and once it was in his mind, he could not forget it. He knew what he must do. It was clear as day in front of him, clearer than anything had ever been in his whole life.

“Lina,” he said quietly, watching as she beamed at his nickname for her. “Can we go for a walk? I need to ask you something.”

“You don’t need to ask,” she giggled, looking behind her. “Come, no one notice that we’ve gone.”

No one looked up as the two children slipped away, their hands intertwined, For Aelinor, it felt almost like hold times, with her and Aemond in a world of their own, She didn’t know where they were going, or have any idea of what might happen next, but she was happy.

But the boy next to her, even as he helped her down the last step and they moved out onto the beach, couldn’t help but be consumed with something between ecstasy and dread. Like it or not, he was about to decide his fate.

And Aelinor would be with him, every step of the way.

Aelinor could tell that something was wrong. Aemond wasn’t speaking, not a single word had escaped his lips since they slipped away from the party, and she was starting to suspect that it was more than his usually sullen self. She longed to tell him about Darrax, about how they had finally figured out a way for her to hold the reins and that she had gone flying for the first time, but he just seemed so…distant.

“Where are we going?” She asked, as they approached the sand dunes. “It’s very late.” Only the light of the moon kept it from being pitch black, and still Aemond moved forward. Her feet slipped in the sand, the silk shoes she had worn for the funeral not suited to climbing through tidal pools and mucky sand.

Aemond stopped suddenly, pausing to listen for something. “Do you hear that?”

A little perturbed that he had ignored her question, Aelinor huffed and tried to listen. At first she couldn’t hear much other than the sound of the wind and the waves crashing in the distance, but soon another sound broke through. It was a low, rhythmic rumble, that she recognized to be the breathing of a very, very large dragon.

“Vhagar?” She gasped. “Aemond, we should go back. This is dangerous.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Which is why I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He pointed toward the cliff face a short distance away, where a dim orange glow could be seen from one of the tunnels. “Go hide over there, I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing?” She grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me out here!”

“You’ll be safe, and I’ll be right back.”

He considered lying to her about his motivations. It would be easier to lie, for him to surprise her with his triumphant return, and not have to face her if he failed. But he could not be dishonest with her, especially about this. No one — no one — understood him better than Aelinor.

“I’m going to claim Vhagar,” he told her. “Or I’m going to die trying.”

These were very frightening words for a nine year old, and for Aelinor they were even more terrifying. She had just gotten Aemond back, and she couldn’t imagine ever losing him. But she knew he wanted a dragon more than anything else in the world, and she knew how hard it had been for him.

“Shouldn’t…” she fumbled for an argument. “Shouldn’t Baela have first claim? Vhagar was her mother’s dragon.”

“And she was Visenya’s before that. She belongs to the Targaryens, and we should all have equal claim,” Aemond saw that she wasn’t convinced. “Please, Lina. If I fail then the chance is Baela’s, but I have my chance, perhaps my only chance, right here. Please let me take it.”

Let me. Like he truly wouldn’t do it if she refused him.

“You could get hurt,” she whispered.

Aemond nodded. “Please.”

This was an impossible thing to ask of her. She was only nine years old, and things like life and death still seemed so far away from her. She didn’t want to risk losing Aemond, but she had also never been denied something that she had wanted. He had always made sure that she wanted for nothing. How could she now stand in his way, when he was all but begging her to stand aside.

Aelinor sighed, a shaky breath that was part fear and part exasperation. “You paid attention in our lessons, you have as good a chance as anyone. But please be careful.”

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief.

“I will,” he promised. “Can you just…keep watch? In case the others wake up?” He wasn’t sure what others he was expecting, but he knew it would cause a commotion if he were to claim — or be eaten — by Vhagar.

“They’ll be angry,” Aelinor shook her head. “Aemond, never mind Baela and Rhaena, my brothers will—”

“You’ll just be keeping watch, Lina. and you don’t have to. You can go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

They both knew that that wasn’t really an option. She would never be able to sleep without knowing if he was alright, and it was unlikely that he would be able to pull this off without someone keeping watch.

“I’ll do it,” she said quietly. “Please, please be careful, Aemond. I can’t lose you.”

He wanted to wrap her in a hug, but he knew that if he did he would probably lose his nerve. “I’ll come back to you Lina, I swear it.”

Knowing that he had never broken a promise to her, she took a deep breath and nodded. “Go. I’ll be by the tunnel when you get back.”

Aemond forced a smile, not letting it slide from his face until she had disappeared into the shadows at the base of the cliff.

And then he started his climb.

Aelinor thought she might faint. She had no idea how much time had passed since Aemond had disappeared over the sand dune, and she was fighting every instinct to run after him and stop him from being so foolish. Her fingernails had cut into her palms from the nerves, and she felt like she was close to tears.

Nestled just outside the mouth of the tunnel, she was sheltered from the worst of the night wind. She was fairly sure that the chill seeping into her skin had nothing to do with the temperature, and everything to do with the terror flooding her veins.

All of a sudden, she heard a great stirring of wind. Peeking out into the moonlight, her mouth dropped open as she watched Vhagar take to the skies, Aemond on her back.

And then she was sobbing.

He had done it! He was really flying!

Clasping both hands to her mouth to keep from crying out, Aelinor jumped up and down. He was doing it! Soon they would be able to fly their dragons together, and everything would be perfect.

She could hear Aemond yelling, hopefully from joy, before Vhagar circled back down.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #fanfic #game of thrones #got

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incandescentlysomething · 1 month

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 1

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 7390

She was his everything... For her...he would do anything.

A/N: Canon compliant but things change around. Currently cross-posting on A03. Will be approximately 12 chapters aligning with season 1.

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

115 AC

On the second day of August, in the year 115 AC, the worst storm in a hundred years swept through King’s Landing. Ships smashed against each other in the harbor, livelihoods and people being whisked away by the tossing waves. The maesters — or the bolder ones anyway — whispered that the gods were unhappy with the Westeros, or specifically, with the ruling family. But those whispers were silenced almost immediately, for this was King’s Landing after all, the very seat of Targaryen power.

Rhaenyra Targaryen watched the storm from her window, one hand braced against each wall, her face being bathed by the pounding rain. Her maids had begged to close the shutters to conserve some of the warmth in her room, but she would not have. Her labors had been ongoing for nearly a full day, and only the sound of the wind and the cool spray of the rain could calm her as she breathed through the pain. From her spot high above the city, she could see clay tiles being ripped from their roofs, and in some places entire buildings were collapsing. It shouldn’t have been calming, but it was a welcome distraction and a stark reminder of her place in this world.

“Please, Princess,” her midwife pleased with her. “You must keep warm.”

“I am plenty warm!” Rhaenyra snapped, “and I will stay where I damn please.” As if summoned by her anger, another painful contraction rippled through her abdomen.

She could hear the midwife turn to one of her maids, beseeching the woman to find her husband. Rhaenyra let out a scoff. Since they had returned from their yearlong sojourn to Dragonstone, during which time she had entertained her uncle Daemon and his wife, Laenor had taken to spending time with one of the knights of the house. He was no uncaring nor unfeeling, but she doubted he felt any guilt about sheltering elsewhere in the city while his wife labored.

A door opened behind her. “The Queen wishes for news of the Princess.”

Rhaenyra groaned loudly, feeling the child move lower. She could hear her maid speaking in hushed tones to the intruder, assuring her of the steady progress of the birth. It didn’t feel steady. In fact, it felt rather like being torn in two.

A heavy gust of wind pelted her face, and she found she could breathe easier under the onslaught. It was a necessary distraction from the conversation happening behind her, which was in itself an echo of the same conversation that had been happening every hour on the hour for the past day. She should have expected it. Alicent had been even more of a presence when Rhaenyra had labored with Jace, insisting that her own maids be present to ‘assist the Princess’. It had been for that very reason that, following the birth of her son, Rhaenyra had withdrawn her family to Dragonstone. But there would be no escaping Alicent this time.

Something smashed against the stone walls, and Rhaenyra screamed as another contraction hit her. She was not made for this. What did it say about her, that she was bringing her child into the world on such a day?

Queen Alicent Hightower paced in her chambers, bundled in a fur as the fire roared to keep the chill of the wind out of her room. The windows in her rooms had been boarded up immediately after the King’s, and she had ordered her children be brought to her. They played on the floor now, Aegon with a small collection of wooden knights, and Aemond and Helaena looking over a book of insects.

The Hand of the King, Lord Otto Hightower, sat at her desk, putting pen to a stack of letters that had amassed in the past week. They both turned when the doors opened and Alicent’s maid, Talya, stepped inside.

“The Princess’ labors are nearly finished,” Talya announced. “The midwife expects the babe within the hour.”

Alicent picked at her fingernail. “Have it brought to me and the King as soon as possible,” she ordered, “so that we might offer our congratulations.”

Talya curtsied and left the room.

Congratulations were far from Alicent’s mind, thought she knew her husband, who was sequestered in his own rooms to work on his model, would be anxious to see his grandchild. Alicent, too, was not without sympathy for the Princess, who had returned from her months away heavily pregnant and now labored alone in her chambers. But the birth of Rhaenyra’s first son had all but confirmed rumors of adultery, and Alicent was anxious to see if the second would lend further proof to the theory.

“I wish she had summoned a maester,” she said, half to herself. “So we might trust she is in good hands.”

“Her first son arrived without issue,” Otto said, seeming bored with his daughter’s worry. “Put it from your mind.”

But how could she? Rhaenyra’s child it might be, and Jacaerys too, but Alicent could not, by the light of the Seven or her own love for her own children, see a bastard seated on the throne. But that did not mean she wished for Rhaenyra to suffer in childbirth.

“Will the dragons be alright in the storm, mother?” It took her a moment to realize who had spoken. Aemond, her third child, looked up from his book, eyes shining in concern for the creatures he loved more than anything. Aemond was…a soft child, though she knew it delighted her husband to see him so enamored with the dragons and his Targaryen heritage. Alicent struggled to imagine a place for Aemond if Rhaenyra’s children were to succeed the throne, soft and sensitive as he was.

“They have survived far more difficult storms than this,” she assured him. “They will be fine.”

Aemond gave her a relieved smile, flipping the page for Helaena.

“What do you care?” Aegon sneered. “You don’t even have one.”

“I have an egg!” Aemond protested.

“It’ll never hatch,” Aegon laughed.

Aemind stood and ran from the room, tears already brimming in his eyes. Alicent sighed, moving to go after him. Some version of this argument was a near weekly occurrence between her two sons, and she struggled to decide if it was childish rivalry or if it represented something deeper.

“Let him be, Daughter,” Otto cautioned. “Boys must work through these things on their own.”

The urge to comfort her son already fading, Alicent resumed her pacing. She needed to be ready when news of the birth came. Through the cracks in her boarded up window, she could see rolling gray clouds in the distance.

Prince Aemond had managed to stop crying by the time he emerged from the tunnels and into the Princess’ Tower. He knew there were many passageways in the castle, but he was only aware of the ones that led from his room, as they afforded him the opportunity to seek out his freedom, and to hide his tears. He was embarrassed to admit, event at the tender age of five, how often he wept behind these cold stone walls.

It wasn’t fair how Aegon treated him, and it wasn’t fair that he had a dragon. Aegon might love Sunfyre, but he didn’t love dragons the way that Aemond did. He didn’t pour over stories of Old Valyria, trying to learn things that seemed impossible for a boy of his age. He deserved a dragon. He was ready for it.

Even Helaena, who did not have a dragon, had her love of science and bugs and all crawling things. It wasn’t proper, or terribly interesting to Aemond, but at least she had something. The only thing he had ever really loved or wanted, continued to be out of his reach.

He hadn’t meant to come to the Princess’ Tower, but it seemed to be the one place in the Red Keep with any type of activity. His mother usually forbade the children from playing here, wanting to keep them far away from his elder half-sister for some reason he didn’t quite understand. And if he wasn’t going to be allowed to go outside and see the dragons, which his mother had strictly forbidden, then he must find entertainment elsewhere.

Two maids scurried past his hiding place. “The babe is here, but the Princess has asked us to delay so that she might compose herself.”

This interested Aemond. He knew that his mother had ordered the babe to be brought to her immediately, though he didn’t understand why. Surely a babe was still a babe an hour after its birth as much as a few minutes? But the babe was here, and he was here, which meant he might get a chance to see his new niece or nephew before his mother and Aegon did.

His mind made up, he ducked out from behind the tapestry and marched up the stairs to his half-sister’s chambers, knocking sharply on the door. The chatter inside fell to silence, and he listened as a pair of footsteps moved toward the door.

A maid answered. “Prince Aemond?” She curtsied through her confusion. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I wish to see the babe,” he declared, trying not to look like a little boy who had been crying not too long ago.

“My Prince, this is a birthing chamber, and it is not—”

“He may enter,” his half-sister’s voice carried, and it was all the invitation he needed to push around the maid (rather rudely, as his septa would tell him) and into the room.

Rhaenyra’s chambers were confusing to him. The window was wide open, and the sounds of the storm and a wicket chill swept into the room. Someone had stacked blankets at the base of the window to soak up all the rain coming through. Despite this, the fire was roaring in its hearth, nearly suffocating in its heat. Two women he had never seen before were rolling blankets stained with crimson into a bundle, while another was dumping red-tinged water from a metal tub out of the window. He blinked in confusion. That was more blood than he had ever seen in his life, even more than when Aegon had broken his nose with a practice sword.

His half-sister was reclined on her bed, propped up by pillows, a bundle of blankets in her arms.

“Are you injured, sister?” He asked, creeping forward and trying not to think of the blood. He might not be overly close with his half-sister, as she was much older and not liked by his mother, but he did not like to see anyone hurt.

“No more than is expected, Aemond,” she said, not exactly warmly, but with a fresh dose of kindness that made his press a bit closer. He thought she looked exhausted, and her hair hung in sweaty mats about his face. Perhaps it was very difficult to have a baby, if it made such a mess. “Would you like to meet your niece?”

“A niece?” he moved forward, drawn by his curiosity. “It’s not a boy then.” A shame, for he would rather have liked a new playmate.

“No,” Rhaenyra laughed. “But rather a beautiful little girl. And you may be the first to meet her.”

Aemond wrinkled his nose. “Is she like Helaena? I like her well enough, but she talks often of bugs.”

She laughed again, a bit more brightly. “She is too little to have interests yet, Aemond. She does not even have a name.”

A person with no name? Somehow, that was utterly fascinating to Aemond, and he boldly leaned over the bed, trying to peek at the bundle in Rhaenyra’s arms. He could not imagine a world in which he was not Aemond, and this little baby did not even have a name of her own.

“Here she is,” Rhaenyra smiled down at the bundle, before lifting it to where Aemond could see.

His mouth dropped open as he beheld the tiny babe. He had expected an ugly, messy thing, and while she might be a bit wrinkly, and slightly blue, she was absolutely perfect. Small enough that he could have easily lifted her, with slick silver hair plastered to her head, and a tiny white hand curled into a little fist. He was reminded of depictions of the Mother in the Sept, who was often shown cradling a small, impossibly beautiful baby.

“She’s pretty,” he said finally, though even he knew the word did not nearly suffice. “She doesn’t look like Jace.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Rhaenyra sounded a bit sad. “But I love her nonetheless.”

The baby cooed, and her tiny eyes blinked open, revealing a stunning shade of lavender more beautiful than anything Aemond had ever seen. She shuddered and stretched, her tiny, bird-like limbs shaking with the effort. Instantly, Aemond was flooded with worry for this little creature. How frightening it must be, to come into the world and meet so many strangers, all while a dreadful storm wailed outside. He wanted to keep her far from the world, to demand that his half-sister bar the windows and keep her locked away, warm and safe.

But that wouldn’t be fair to the babe. Aemond knew all too well what it felt like to be suffocated within stone walls, and this little one deserved to see everything. When she was bigger, he could take her to the dragon pit, where she might watch the dragons train with him. Perhaps she would enjoy hearing stories of Old Valyria, and he worried that he may not know them well enough to do them justice. But those thoughts were overcrowded by fear. They were plans for tomorrow, when this little bird did not, to him, look strong enough to last the day.

“She’s too little,” he protested. “Will she be alright?”

“She’ll be alright,” Rhaenyra promised. “But she might need to be protected and helped while she is still small. Could you…help me do that, Aemond?”

Aemond studied the babe for a long moment. “Mother said it is a bad omen for her to be born during a storm.”

Rhaenyra frowned. The babe kicked her legs, and Aemond boldly reached forward to tuck the blanket back around her.

“But I don’t think she’s right,” he admitted. “She’s like a little sunbeam on a cloudy day.”

Perhaps the little boy did not mean to be so poetic, but his words filled Rhaenyra’s heart with a little bit of hope. It was true that the babe did not look like Jace, for they did not share a father, but she was the picture of a Targaryen beauty. No one could deny that she was Rhaenyra’s, or that she was perfect. She was a worthy reward for such a difficult labor. Not even Aemond, it seemed.

“You know Aemond,” she began cautiously. “She does not yet have a name. Might you have a suggestion?”

“Me?” He was shocked. “What about Ser Laenor?”

“He isn’t here,” Rhaenyra’s voice was harsh. “Come, we mustn’t let this little one linger without a name of her own for much longer.”

That did seem to be a terrible injustice, in Aemond’s opinion. He struggled to think of a name as perfect as the little creature in front of him. It would have to be a Valyrian name, he decided, for she deserved one, and it would have to be beautiful and unique, only to her. He was struck by the realization that this was the most important thing he had ever done.

“What about Aelinor?” He suggested shyly.

Rhaenyra smiled, looking down on her baby. “I think that is perfect. Will you help my little Aelinor, Aemond? When the world is harsh and cruel, might she have you to lean on?”

Aemond could not imagine the world ever being cruel to little Aelinor — his Aelinor, he decided — but he made the promise anyway.

“I swear,” he said earnestly, vowing not only to himself, not to his half-sister, but to the precious thing in her arms. He lifted his hand and gently stroked one finger along her tiny arm, the skin impossibly soft and delicate beneath his touch. “I’ll become the strongest dragon rider in the world, so that I can protect you. I swear it.”

And for those few minutes, before news reached the Queen, Rhaenyra felt that the world might not have been as harsh as she knew it to be. Her daughter was healthy and beautiful, and already she was winning hearts. Little Aelinor was exactly what Aemond had said, a spot of sun on a dark day, and she was loved.

No one could ever have imagined that in the years and wars to come, it was tiny Aelinor, and her sworn protector, who would shape the future of House Targaryen.

119 AC

At the age of four, Princess Aelinor Velaryon ruled over the Red Keep like a little queen. Though not one for barking orders — she was both too meek and too shy for that — she found the castle filled with those resolved to fulfill her every whim. Never in her short life had she known a moment’s hardship, for such inconveniences were kept fiercely away by those who loved her.

Her mother, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, doted on her only daughter, even as she brought a second son into the world. Her daughter was the perfect image of her mother, in looks if not in temperament, and Rhaenyra was determined to keep her under her wing for as long as possible. The motives could not be entirely unselfish, for Aelinor alone of Rhaenyra’s children bore the look of a true Targaryen, and contributed heavily to the preservation of Rhaenyra’s reputation.

The Lord Laenor Velaryen, the girl’s father, found himself rather at odds with what to do with the girl. Though she did not resemble him in the slightest, he found her sweet, and reminded him of a calmer, meeker Laena. The reminder of his sister was enough to generate some fondness in his heart for the child, if it could not be called a true fatherly love. He did not spend much time with the girl (or indeed any of his children), but he made sure to always bring the child a bauble from his travels, and offer her a story should she ask.

King Viserys, her grandfather, doted on the child, whom he found to be the perfect image of his late wife, Aemma, and even Her Majesty the Queen could not find it in herself to hate the child. Not when little Aelinor so often looked up to Queen Alicent and declared her ‘beautiful like a faerie’.

The only true hardship in Princess Aelinor’s life came from her brothers, the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon. Luc was young, and so it was most often Jace who took to bullying the young girl. It was difficult to say why, and perhaps that was why their mother did so little to stop it. It might simply have been the way of things with siblings, for Rhaenyra had none of her own. But many in the curt whispered that the boys had far darker motivations for taunting and teasing the little girl, even if the children themselves were unaware.

When Jacaerys pushed Aelinor from her chair so that he might sit next to the King, the court whispered ‘it is because she has the look of a Targaryen, and the boy does not’. And when Luc pulled her hair, they suggested that his jealously moved him to hurt the girl.

Aelinor loved her brothers though, and were she a little stronger or a little bigger, she would have teased them right back. She knew her brothers would never hurt her, not truly, and so she did not let herself be too bothered by their harassment.

Aelinor remained a happy child, through and through, in large part due to her best friend, for there was no one in the court, nor in her family, as devoted to her happiness as her beloved Aemond. On any given day, one could expect to see the young prince following behind the little princess like an ever-faithful shadow, quick to pick her up should she fall, to wipe away her tears, and fight her battles for her. For all the rumors of rifts between the factions of House Targaryen, their loyalty to each other seemed to bridge the gap of familial animosity.

“Aemond,” Aelinor said eagerly. “Can you tell me what you see?”

They were hiding in the rafters, in a space normally reserved for servants lighting chandeliers, spying on the feast and dancing taking place in the great hall below. It was Prince Aegon’s eleventh name day, and the dancing was expected to last right into the night. Aemond had been forced to attend for the first few hours, but had managed to sneak away and find Aelinor, who had been too young to be invited. Now they were hidden behind a wall on the upper level, Aemond tall enough to peer over and Aelinor trying to stand on her toes.

Aemond considered his answer. “What would you like to hear about? The dancing or the food?”

“The dancing!” She exclaimed. “Is it like in the stories?”

He knew which stories she was referring to. Aemond spent much of his time regaling Aelinor with the stories of Old Valyria, and while she loved tales of dragons and spells as much as he did (though he did tend to leave out some of the gorier details of blood magic), it was the great romances that really captured her young mind.

“The ladies are all spinning around, and their dresses are very fine,” he said. “And I can see that all of the lords are very much in love with them.”

Truthfully, he could only really see his mother, who danced with her uncle in the middle of the nearly-empty dancefloor. The hired musicians now played over the sound of drunken revelries, most of the guests draped over taples with tankards of ale in their hands. All of the other children had left by now, including Aegon, who had arrogantly boasted that he would stay up all night for his party. He also couldn’t see Princess Rhaenyra But Aelinor didn’t need to know any of that.

“I wish I could be down there,” the girl sighed, spinning around so that the edges of her bedrobe twirled outward. “I could meet a handsome prince.”

Aemond turned from watching the party, smiling down at her as she spun about. “Am I not handsome enough for you, Lina?”

Aelinor stopped then, looking very serious. “You’re the most handsome, even more handsome than your brothers or mine, or any of the princes in the stories.”

Aemond grinned. That was what he loved best about Aelinor. Even at the age of four, he knew without a doubt that she meant everything she said with every fibre of her being. As far as he knew, she had never even told a lie to anyone. She just loved and loved with her entire heart, and he felt grateful that she shared even a small piece of it with him.

“Come then, if you wish it, we shall dance,” he held out a hand, leading her through a clumsy imitation of one of the dances he had seen earlier. Aelinor held her skirt up with one hand and he whirled her around, careful not to let her trip over her dress.

“What’s your favorite part of the stories, Aemond?” She asked him, swaying from side to side.

He answered honestly. “I like the dragons. I like hearing about the bond between dragons and their riders, and how they became heroes and legends.” He was filled with a great sadness then, for her did not have a dragon of his own. Aelinor did, her little egg had hatched shortly after her birth, though she was too young to have done more than pet the hatchling.

“You’ll be the best dragon rider ever,” Aelinor promised. “I just know it.”

He didn’t doubt that she believed it.

“Do you want to know my favorite part, Aemond?” She asked, giggling as he swayed her from side to side.

“Of course, Lina.”

She sighed dramatically. “I like the happy endings, when the heroes bring their princesses a troven.”

“It’s a token, Lina,” he smiled. “And yes, I know you love the happy endings.” He was prone to adding happy endings to all his stories, knowing how much she loved them.

“Come now, it is time to get you to bed.” It was well past her bedtime, and Aelinor did not protest as he took her hand and returned her to her family.

Early the next morning, Alicent walked into her sitting room to find Aemond digging through one of her jewelry boxes.

“Aemond, whatever are you doing?” She glanced briefly at the breakfast table, where Aegon was slathering a fruit spread on a piece of bread, but chose to take nothing for herself.

Aemond didn’t reply, setting a gold chain to the side and continuing to dig. “Just looking for something.”

“Hm,” Alicent hummed. “Did you have fun with Aelinor last night?”

“Yes, we watched some of the dancing.”

His brother laughed, but Aemond chose to ignore it. He now had a selection of jewels set next to him on the table, and was continuing his hunt.

“Why are you laughing, Aegon?” Alicent asked.

Aegon snorted. “I just think it’s funny that Aemond hangs out with babies rather than acting like a man.”

This was rather funny, especially coming from a boy as flippant and juvenile as Aegon, but Alicent couldn’t deny that the thought had occured to her as well. Aemond was nearly nine, and his closest companion was a little girl of four. Aemond was already an odd child, and it didn’t bode well for him to be so distanced from his peers.

“Aelinor isn’t a baby, she’s special,” Aemond declared, spinning to face his mother, holding his palm outstretched. “Mother, may I have this.”

Balanced on his palm was a large sapphire, too large for him to close his fist around. It was roughly cut, and had been given to the Queen for her to choose its cut and setting herself, but she had never gotten around to it, preferring emerald tones over sapphire.

“For what?” She asked.

A red flush stained Aemond’s cheeks, and Alicent did not even need to hear his reply. “Are you sure, Aemond? That is a very large gem, and she’s very little.”

Aemond held it tightly in his fingers. “Please. She loves treasure.”

That was a gross underestimation of Aemond’s motivations. Yes, Aelinor did love treasure as much as any little princess, but the truth was, her sleepy mumblings about heroes and tokens had rattled around his brain all night. She had called him a handsome prince, and he felt he needed to do something to earn it.

“Please?” He repeated.

Alicent considered her next words carefully. On one hand, she did not want the court to hear of her passing a gift of such value to the Princess Rhaenyra’s family. Or rather, she did not want her father to hear of it. But she had no real attachment to the stone, having already forgotten which visiting lord or lady had gifted it to her, and it might serve to address what she saw as the larger concern.

“Very well,” Aemond’s face erupted in glee, “but you must make me a promise.”

“Anything!” He exclaimed.

“From now on, you will join Aegon for his morning lessons. That means with the maesters some days, and in the training yard on others.”

“What?”

“Why?” Aegon demanded.

Alicent held up a hand to silence both of her sons. “You’re not as little as you were, Aemond. This is important.”

“But Aelinor —”

“Aelinor must also study with her Septas,” Alicent said. “Do I have your agreement?”

Aemond looked a bit dejected, but nodded slowly. “I promise.”

“Well, I don’t even want him to train with me!”

The next day Aelinor had to hunt for Aemond throughout the castle. He wasn’t waiting outside her door when she awoke, nor was he in the library, picking out a new story for her. It took her nearly an hour to find him in the most unlikely of places.

He was testing out the different practice swords, trying to see which felt the least foreign in his hand, when Aelinor emerged on the walkway above the training yard. Ser Harwin Strong lifted her easily, carrying her down the steps and setting her down on a flat stone. His efforts were futile, for she immediately leapt off and splashed through the mud to reach Aemond.

“Are you going to learn to fight, Aemond?” She asked, excited. “Can I learn too?

The thought was ridiculous, but Aemond didn’t laugh. “When you are bigger, Lina, I promise.” He couldn’t bear the thought of her being injured, so this was one of the few instances in which he had no choice but to refuse her.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Can I stay and watch?”

Aemond was suddenly embarrassed at the thought of her watching him train. He would not be very good, and he couldn’t bear for Aelinor to think any less of him. The sapphire hung heavy in his pocket, and he was thankful for the distraction.

“Not today, Lina. But I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” She bounced on her toes. The hem of her lilac dress was already stained with mud, but her silver hair was tied back neatly back with a ribbon. Her whole frame shook as she bounced in anticipation. “What is it?”

Aemond pulled the sapphire out of his pocket, unwrapping the silk handkerchief he had used to cover it. “This is for you. Just like from the stories.”

Aelinor’s gasp was almost comical as she took in the stone. “For me?”

“Yes,” Aemond said, letting her take it in her small hands. She had to grip it with both hands to hold it, the gem ridiculously large for her. “But you must be very careful with it, alright?”

Aelinor stared at it for a moment longer. In the morning light the gem reflected a ripple of cerulean blue across her palms, and she felt she could have wasted away the day studying it. Suddenly she leapt forward to wrap Aemond in a hug. “Thank you, thank you!” She cried. “It is the best thing in the world.”

Aemond squeezed her back. “I am glad you like it. “Now go, we both have lessons.”

Aelinor gave him one last squeeze, before turning to stomp back to her waiting Kingsguard. Aemond just smiled, pleased with himself.

That evening, Aelinor sat in front of the hearth in her mother’s chambers, half-listening as her brothers recounted their day, but mostly studying the sapphire in her hands. Her mother had been astonished to see the magnitude of the gift she had received, but she had not taken it away.

“Boys, stay here with Aelinor. I have something to discuss with your father.” Rhaenyra disappeared into the next room.

Jace squatted down next to his sister, pointing at the stone. “What’s that?”

“It’s my token!” Aelinor exclaimed.

“It’s pretty,” Luc was on her other side.

“I know!” Aelinor beamed. “Aemond gave it to me. It’s just like the treasures from the stories and I—”

Jace interrupted her. “Aemond? You let him give you a gift?” Unlike his younger siblings, Jace wasn’t entirely unaware of the whispers that followed him at court. And he was more than aware that while he dealt with sideways glances and whispers, he knew that Aelinor was largely immune to those comments. That spark of jealousy colored his relationship with his sister, sometimes overclouding his love for her with envy.

Aelinor was confused by his question. Why shouldn’t Aemond give her a gift? He was her Aemond after all. But Jace’s question made her worry. Perhaps she needed to give him a gift in return. But what did she have that was as wonderful as this?

“Aemond isn’t our friend, Aelinor,” Jace cautioned. “You can’t trust him.”

“Aemond is my friend,” Aelinor countered, her faith in him steadfast. “He just doesn’t like you.”

All of a sudden, Luc snatched the gem out of her hand, holding it away from her reach. “It’s so blue!”

“Let me see it, Luc,” Jace took it, holding it near the fire to see it better.

“Give it back!” Aelinor sprung to her feet. “It isn’t yours! It’s mine!”

“Why should you get a gift like this, and from Aemond of all people?” Jace, who thought himself much older and wiser, tried to reason with his sister. “You cannot keep it.”

“I can! He gave it to me!” Aelinor jumped to reach it, nearly tripping over her skirts.

“I’m sorry, sister. But this is for the best. “And Jace, with the type of carelessness that only a boy can muster, tossed the sapphire into the fire.

Aelinor wailed. “You stupid, stupid boy! Aemond gave that to me!” She beat at his side with her little fists.

Jace pushed her off, sending her stumbling to the floor. “It’s just a trinket, Aelinor. We can find you another one. A better one.”

But Aelinor already knew in her heart that there would never be a better gift than the one Aemond had given her. She pushed onto her knees and crawled closer to the fire, sniffling as she watched the flames lick at the blue gem. Already black was creeping up the edges, marring its beautiful surface. Aemond had given her that gift because he loved, she knew it. And she wasn’t going to let her brother’s jealousy take it away.

New determination flowing through her veins, Aelinor reached forward into the fire, and grasped the gem firmly in her hand.

Her screams echoed through the hall of the keep.

Aemond was reading by candlelight, just beginning to nod off when a pounding began at his door. A thousand things occurred to him as he scrambled from his bed. It could be his mother, angry that he was still awake, or it could be something more serious, such as a fire or an attack of some kind.

He had scarcely set his feet on the floor when the door burst open, and he was surprised to see not only his mother there, looking very perturbed in her nightgown and robe, but also Ser Harwin Strong, the Kingsguard to the Princess Rhaenyra.

“Aemond,” his mother sighed. “I’m sorry, but there was no helping it.”

“No helping what, mother?” Aemond was concerned. Was that sweat on Ser Harwin’s brow? “Is there a fire?”

“No, child. There has been an…unfortunate accident.”

“What do you—”

Ser Harwin interrupted. “The Princess Aelinor has been grievously injured, and she calls for you. Her mother hoped you might calm her, so that she might let the maesters—”

Aemond was already pushing past them, running down the stairs as fast as his bare feet could carry him. Aelinor, injured? He could not imagine what might have happened, his thoughts already filled with the most horrible images. He should have been there, should have protected her. And where were her parents, her brothers, her guards? What were they doing that allowed her to be hurt?

He could hear Ser Harwin rushing behind him, but he did not stop to look. He just ran down the familiar corridors and began climbing the steps to the chambers the Princess Rhaenyra occupied with her family. No sooner had his foot landed on the bottom step of the tower that the most horrible wailing reached his ears.

“Aelinor!” She shouted, rushing up the steps and bursting into the room. He shoved past a crowd of maesters and Aelinor’s own parents and brothers, ignoring the rudeness of his arrival. Rhaenyra looked close to tears, her sons just as distraught, but Aemond only had eyes for Aelinor.

She sat on a divan, wilted against one side, her hand cradled in her lap. She was still wearing her beautiful, mud-covered dress from that morning, though the dirt had now dried into dust that flaked onto the velvet furniture. She was sobbing: great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body with the effort, letting out alternatively loud wails or soft moans of pain.

“Lina!” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees next to her. “What’s happened?”

She wailed louder, and he saw that she was gripping something in her little hand. The skin that he could see, mainly the sides and back of her hand, was a frightening shade of bright red, as though she’d left it out in the sun for too long.

“She wasn’t supposed to go after it,” Jace said. “She just reached right in!”

“What did she reach for, Jace?” Rhaenyra demanded. “You were supposed to watch her!”

Aemond ignored them, carefully lifting a hand to brush away the flood of tears. A maester knelt on her other side. “Young Prince, we need to let us see her hand. We fear she had been grievously burned.”

Burned? His Aelinor?

He spun his gaze around, zeroing on Jace. Little Luc clung to his brother’s shirt, tears running down his face. The nerve of him to cry, when his sister was suffering so.

“What have you done?” He demanded. “Why did you hurt her?”

“She was the one stupid enough to reach into a fireplace for a dumb jewel!” Jace spat back.

“Jewel? What jewel?” Ser Laenor asked, and his wife began to explain.

Aemond felt a feeling of dread come over him as he realized what Aelinor was holding so tightly in her hand. What she had hurt herself for. He leaned close, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Lina. Does it hurt terribly?”

She gave a pathetic nod, and he resisted the urge to cry. This was his fault, after all. He had given her the sapphire, and she had scarred herself just to save it from the fire.

“Lina,” he whispered. “Please, you must let them help.”

Her lip quivered. “Make it stop hurting, Aemond.”

He hated himself for being unable to grant her wish. It made him want to turn around and punch Jace, and even little Luc, for putting her through this. It was their teasing and tormenting of her that had led to this, he was sure of it.

“Open your hand, Lina,” he coaxed. “And once they’ve taken care of you, I’ll tell you a new story, alright?”

That seemed motivation enough, and he moved to sit beside her, taking her uninjured hand in his as the maesters worked quickly to uncurl her burned fingers. Aelinor whimpered as the sapphire dropped to the floor, and Aemond felt like vomiting when he saw the mess left behind. A melted mass of burned skin and liquid flesh, her fingers curling in as if to protect the wound from the air. As soon as it was exposed, Aelinor began to cry anew, and Aemond drew her face into his shoulders.

“It will be alright, Lina,” he promised, even though he didn’t think it would be. “I’ll take care of you.”

Aelinor didn’t respond. She just clung to Aemond’s side and sobbed as they applied a salve and a bandage to her ruined hand. Both her mother and father came forward to try and comfort her, but any attempt to pry her away from Aemond only led to more tears.

Aelinor whispered something, and Aemond leaned down to hear it.

“Am I going to be ugly now, Aemond?” She said quietly.

“Never,” he swore. “You are as beautiful as ever, and no one could ever do anything to change that.” That, at least, he was sure of.

She seemed to take a little comfort in that, and Aemond worked with the maesters to convince her to drink some milk of the poppy. She fell asleep, slumped against Aemond’s side, her hand an unidentifiable mass of bandages.

“Thank you, Prince Aemond,” Ser Laenor said, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I will take her to bed now.”

Aemond wanted to protest, but while he might be strong enough to carry Aelinor playful around the castle, he could not move her without jostling her. Instead, he carefully passed her to her father, and stood from the sofa as she was carried away. He wanted to insist that someone stay with her through the night, but movement at the side of the room drew his attention away.

Rhaenyra had collapsed into a chair at the table, Jace and Luc sitting beside her. In Luc’s hand was the blackened sapphire they had pried from Aelinor’s grasp.

“You…you bastards!” Aemond shouted, walking up and snatching the jewel from him. “I gave this to Aelinor, not to you!”

“Boys, there is no need for—” Rhaenyra started.

“Who are you to give our sister gifts? You’re just trying to…trying to..” Jace struggled for words. “To turn her against us!”

“I’m not! I—” Aemond caught himself before he said I love her. “It doesn’t matter. You stole from her, and you hurt her, and I won’t ever forgive you for it.”

“Enough!” Rhaenyra stood. “Jace, take Luc and go to your room. I’ll be in to speak with you in a minute.”

Aemond watched as they walked away, scowling all the while. Only once the door had closed behind them did Rhaenyra turn to him.

“Thank you, Aemond,” she said sincerely. “I did not say it earlier, but you were a great comfort to Aelinor, and a great help to us all tonight.”

He did not think that his mother would enjoy hearing that he had been a ‘great help’ to his half-sister, nor was he particularly endeared to her at the moment. It was on her watch that Lina had been injured, after all. “I did it for Lina.” And not for you.

“I know you did, but I am grateful all the same.” Rhaenyra sighed. “She will be very unwell in the coming days. Can I trust that you will be there to help?”

It was a silly question. When, in all the days since Aelinor had been born, had Aemond not been there? Short of prying him from her side and locking him up, there would be nothing anyone could do to keep him away from his little princess.

Aemond looked down at the jewel in his palm, rubbing some of the soot away with his finger. “Can she have her jewel back? I picked it just for her. I didn’t mean for her to be hurt.” It wasn’t quite an admission of guilt, and indeed, no one could accuse him of being at fault save himself, but Rhaenyra could see that it already weighed heavy on the boy.

Rhaenyra held out her hand, and he obediently placed the sapphire in her palm. “Not only may she keep it, but I shall have it placed in a setting, so that she might carry it easier.”

That sounded perfectly agreeable to Aemond, and he nodded. “Very well. Then I shall look after Aelinor.” He did not say because you cannot, but the thought was in his mind. He had trusted Aelinor to the care of her mother and brothers, and now she was hurt. It would never have happened on his watch. He wouldn’t have allowed it.

“May I ask one more favor of you, Ameond?”

He gave a slight nod.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, as if debating whether or not to speak. “Please don’t call my boys bastards. It cuts deeper than you know.”

Aemond did not agree, or disagree, he simply cast one last longing glance at Aelinor’s door,and then left the room, determined to return in the morning with an armful of sweets for his princess.

Years later, Rhaenyra would wonder if that was the first day the lines were drawn between their families. When she inadvertently handed Aemond Targaryen the words with which to wound her own children. But at the time, she knew only that he cared deeply for her daughter, and she hoped and prayed that it would be enough to preserve this tender peace.

#house of the dragon #hotd #houseofthedragon #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #game of thrones #fanfiction #multi-chapter #fanfic

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