The wind was blowing, and storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. The waves berated the cliffs of Dragonstone, and the dragons on hilltops bellowed at the harsh conditions. This did not stop the royalty of Dragonstone from having a proper Valyrian funeral. Visenya stood before the small pyre, watching the flames dance in the wind, ignoring her silver hair whipping her face.

Beside her stood her husband, Aemond; he may not have known the babe for more than a day, but his heart still broke all the same. The gods claimed this young couple's first child and likely many more to come.

"We should head inside," Aemond broke the silence. The funeral had ended over an hour ago, and the last person left not long after that. Visenya and Aemond were the last left, watching as the fire began to die.

"The storm draws near," Aemond spoke again, hoping to break Visenya from her trace.

Visenya had not spoken a word throughout the procession, choosing to remain silent, and still has not said a word. Aemond stayed by her side, but now even he was beginning to feel the delicate raindrops hitting his face.

"I cannot leave him alone here," Visenya whispered, refusing to break eye contact from the dying flames.

"He rests with the gods now, please," Aemond begged, standing before his wife, "you'll fall ill if we stay here any longer."

Visenya finally looked at her husband, staring deeply into his pleading eye—a single nod. The couple spoke their final goodbyes to their child and left the hilltop and the funeral pyre that would soon be ash.

Once inside, the falling rain and battering winds echo the walls but are drowned out by the light chatter within a nearby room. "Do we want to join them?" Aemond asked, taking Visenya's wet coat from her.

"Later," she said, making a beeline for her chambers, Aemond following closely behind.

Aemond softly closes the door, requesting they not be disturbed. Visenya seats herself on a chair in front of the fireplace, kicking off her shoes and closing her eyes. Aemond takes a seat on the sofa next to her, waiting carefully for the chance to speak.

"Speak it plainly," Visenya spoke without opening her eyes, "I know you wish to say something."

She wasn't a fool. Visenya knew ever since Aemond arrived that he had many questions that only she could answer. She knew this talk was inevitable, and yet she wished it had not come so soon.

Aemond jumps. He did not expect her to know what he was thinking so clearly. For seven moon turns, he wondered how this conversation would go–screaming, crying, objects being thrown, yet none of his imagined scenarios compared to the utter calmness of this situation.

"Why was I not told?" Aemond asked his most burning question.

Visenya's face scrunches in confusion, and she looks to Aemond, expecting a smile on his face, but there is no such thing. "I did not tell you at first, but I wrote you almost everyday, how did you not know?" Visenya questioned, sitting upright.

"Wrote me?" It was now Aemonds' turn to be confused, "I never received a single letter from you."

The pair look at each other, both as equally confused. "Did you write me?" Visenya now asked.

"Everyday."

Both their minds were spinning. They had both written to each other and had yet to receive a single of the others' letters. "So you truly did not know I was with child?" Visenya asked, and Aemond shook his head.

"The what happened to our letters?"

They look to the fireplace, then back to each other, speaking in perfect unison, "Otto."

Aemond felt his blood boil. If Otto had their letters to each other intercepted, then what other secrets were he kept for the past seven moons? Visenya's stomach sank. She had gone into extensive detail about their babes' wellbeing within her letters, and now those letters were lost. Every memory she had of Baelon was lost.

Visenya felt Aemonds' hand clench around hers, and she saw the blood of the dragon building behind his one blue eye. She goes to speak, hoping to calm him down, but without another word, Aemond rips his hand from her and storms across the room.

He was furious. Not only did his grandsire keep his wife's pregnancy a secret, but it also prevented him from ever knowing his child in the womb. Visenya could see his anger, but it did not scare her.

"Aemond!"

Aemond stopped in his tracks. Visenya's voice was firm and demanding, yet when he turned, her stature was that of a concerned mother. "You are not to return to Kings Landing now," she told him.

His initial reaction was to meet her with defiance, but the way Visenya held herself, Aemond would rather face Baelerion himself than defy his wife. Visenya watched as Aemond returned to his spot on the sofa, and she sat at his side, taking his hands in hers.

"Are you not angry?" He asked, hands clenching and unclenching as he burned the fire with his gaze.

"I'm enraged, however," Visenya paused, cupping Aemond's face to make him look at her, "I am tired."

Aemond softens at her words. "You should be in bed, resting," he said softly, trying to help her stand.

"Aemond," he stops, "I'm tired of this. The Greens, Kings Landing, political nonsense. I'm tired of it all," Visenya confessed, lowering her head.

She was tired. All her life had been one political move after another, and being on Dragonstone allowed her to feel free from the prying eyes of court for once in her life. She was always home here, and she wanted Aemond to find home here, with her.

"Visenya," aemond spoke, sitting beside her again, "as much as I would love to escape the endevours of court and their whispers, we simply cannot. You are the heir to the Iron Throne after your mother, do you really believe the lords of the realm would accept not one but two women ascending the throne?"

Aemond's words cut deep, but they were the truth. Visenya was not naive and saw how all the highborn lords of the realm reacted anytime she or her mother's station was mentioned.

"However," Aemond's voice now had a hint of connivingness, "say the words and we shall flee Westeros back to our houses ancient seat, never to be heard from again."

Visenya chuckled at his proposal, and it made Aemond's heart swoon. "Your scheme does intrigue me, but I cannot abandone my duty at a whim," Visenya said, a sad smile on her face.

The couple soon fell into a comfortable silence and held each other close while watching the flames dance, but Aemond's mind was elsewhere. He cannot help but replay the image of Aegon and Visenya in the hallway; it had haunted him night and day for the last seven moons.

He looked down at his wife, eyes closed, and mouth curled in a small smile. Would he risk waking her to find the truth? Or would he save it for another day? Not even Aemond himself knew.

The silence was quickly broken by the doors open. "We asked not to be distrused," Aemond calls without looking at who their intruder was.

"I'm sorry," A timid voice speaks from the doorway.

Aemond turns to see a young handmaiden, maybe around their age or younger; he recognises her as the girl who brought him to Visenya. "Delaya?" He asked, carefully laying Visenya on the sofa–she was now asleep.

"Yes my prince," Delaya curtsies, "I need to check on the princess."

"She's asleep," he throws back, now protecting his sleeping wife like a dragon would guard its food.

Delaya shifts uncomfortably. She was so used to everyone on Dragonstone and their warm nature, but Aemond was an outsider, and his presence alone threatened her.

"Unfortunalty I do need to check on her," she pauses, "recovery."

Aemond is confused at first but soon understands what Delaya means. Slowly, he wakes Visenya and informs her of what's happening. "Leause us, Aemond," Visenya waves him off, adjusting her dress.

Visenya knew Aemond would protest, but she did not want to see what had become of her womanhood. Her mother had warned her of the changes that would happen to her body; at first, it was the enlarged breasts, then the new marks appearing on her hips and stomach, but this was different.

In order for the babe to be removed from her body, the maesters had to make an incision below her entrance to remove the babe. The practice was fairly new in the Citidal and was only performed on lower-born women.

"I'm staying," Aemond said, refusing to leave the room.

"Aemond," Visenya said gently, "you won't like what you see."

Aemond cupped Visenya's face between his hands. Did she honestly think of him like that? "My love," he started, "you have been through the most brutal war a woman could go through, and you have survived. I do not care what you look like."

Visenya always cried at his kind words and allowed him to stay. Delaya shut and locked the door behind her, clearing a nearby table for Visenya to lie. Aemond helped his wife onto the table and watched intently at what was happening. Most husbands do not care for this part of childbirth.

Delaya slowly lifts Visenya's skirt. Visenya shivers at the cold but calms her breathing. Visenya refused to have a maester do this and requested that Delaya be trained instead.

Aemond was horrified at the mutilation; his heart broke for Visenya. Is this the reality for all mothers? Bodies destroyed? And now he felt a conflict within himself. He did not want to put Visenya through this pain ever again, but he knew that it was both of their duties to someday provide an heir–would they ever?

"Everythings okay princess," Delaya broke the silence, pulling Visenya's skirt back down.

"Please Delaya, stop calling me princess," Visenya groans as Aemond helps her down.

"You know I can't," Delaya chuckles, "I'll return with your tea and soup soon."

Delaya leaves the room as quickly as she arrived, leaving Visenya and Aemond alone again.

"She's new," Aemond comments, never having seen the girl at the Red Keep.

Aemond helps Visenya back to the sofa and ensures she is extra comfortable. "She's a Dragonstone resident; we became quite close over the last few moons," Visenya said.

The crackling fire fills the silence, yet Visenya can feel how tense Aemond is; something is bothering him. Aemond contemplates his question, wondering if now is the right time to ask. Not only was he concerned about what had happened to his beloved, but what he saw between Visenya and Aegon.

"Visenya," Aemond spoke, hesitating for a moment, "are all those scars from the labours?"

Visenya's body immediately stiffens, and Aemond senses that–he's struck an old wound. Visenya knew that Aemond was not only asking about what had happened a few days ago but also what had happened many moons ago. She knew Aegon's demolition of her body had left wounds, mostly unnoticeable, but her labours had now made them incredibly visible.

"No," Visenya whispered, barely audible.

Aemond shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had hoped the answer would be yes, but hearing her say no confirmed things he did not wish to be true. Was it not just a kiss? Was there more to the story? Did Aegon hurt her? His mind was running rampant.

"What happened?" He asked, afraid of the answers he would get.

He had asked, and yet Visenya did not know how to answer. She wanted to bury Aegon and his misdeeds in the past, but history always had a way of revealing itself; was she ready to tell him? How would Aemond react? Visenya knew that his and Aegon's relationship was already strained; would the truth tear them apart? Would Aemond shun her and call her a whore?

Visenya sat up, now looking at Aemond, studying his features again. His sharp jaw, piercing blue eye, soft long silver hair–he was perfect. "Promise," Visenya finally said, "promise me you won't hate me."

Aemond feared for the worst. Is she going to tell him that she was Aegon's mistress? That he raped her? Aemond knew his brother had a history of violating women; would he really go as far as to defile his own blood?

"It's Aegon," Visenya starts, looking away in shame.

"What did my brother do to you?" Aemond holds Visenya's hand tightly.

Visenya suddenly found it hard to breathe, her body was heavy, and she felt as if the water surrounding Dragonstone was swallowing her beneath the waves. She had spent so long repressing the memories of what Aegon had done to her body that now the time had come to talk about it, she found it physically impossible to do so.

The memories flooded her mind and, without realising it, she started to cry. Aemond wiped away the first stray tears from Visenya's face, but soon they flowed like a river. He quickly took her in his arms and allowed her to cry; he did not want to force her. Without a word being said, Aemond knew what had happened.

"He-he," Visenya blubbers, trying to force the words out, but it only makes her cry harder.

Aemond hums, comforting how wife with his actions, "I know, don't say it, I know."

Visenya continues to cry; all the repressed emotions of the last year come out without control. She felt comfort being held by Aemond, his first reaction may have been to murder his brother, but he stayed with her.

Aemond was fuming, he wanted nothing more than to seek out his brother and cut off his cock more than anything, but Visenya needed him. He kept his anger hidden, only focused on comforting the broken woman before him. His was breaking for her, a girl full of love and light now broken and bruised.

Aemond holds Visenya tightly until her cries turn to sobs and sobs to sniffles. Once she finished crying, Aemond lifted her face delicately to look at him. He looked into her bright red and glassy eyes and melted; even though she was crying, he still believed she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

"I love you," Aemond whispered.

Visenya's heart beamed, and she suddenly was radiating. She had told him she loved him, but hearing him say those three little words made her feel as if not even The Doom could touch them. Visenya had never felt safe, always being used as a tool in the wicked game of the Iron Throne, but with Aemond, it was different. He did not care for her station, the power it brought him, or the fact that she was damaged beyond her years; he loved her, and she loved him.

"I love you," she whispered back, a smile spread wide across her face.

They share a kiss–soft, gentle, and full of love. Aemond was still hellbent on revenge, and Visenya knew it, but for now, it was just the two of them. No Greens, no Blacks, no Iron Throne, just two souls intertwined forever.