Warnings

This chapter is the continuation of the previous one about Aemond, which in turn is connected to the one about Criston Cole. In this chapter, you may find spoilers about the Dance of the Dragons.

Requested by: no one
Rating: red
Plot: You have distanced yourselves for a while, seeking a solution.

After sending a raven to Dragonstone, you packed some of your belongings and left with your handmaidens. You and Aemond had reached a common agreement: to take some distance and reflect.
And what better place for you than your home? You said goodbye to only a few people, lying to the small council about the reason for your journey. You left to seek new supporters for Aegon's cause.
The sea voyage is long, but you find solace in it. Soon you will see your family again, and finally, Infernia can fly free, no longer chained in the dragon pit. Her blue scales, in stark contrast with her pearl-white horns and claws, reflect the sunlight. The red streaks on her wings stand out like flames.
What will you tell your mother? You have informed her of your arrival and that you need her guidance. But you certainly cannot tell her about what happened two nights ago. She has already sought revenge for Lucerys' death. If she knew about the violence and betrayal, she would go after your husband herself on dragonback.
You turn around. King's Landing is now far away, looking more like a small port town than a grand capital. You wonder what he is doing now, if he rejoices in your departure or despairs over the rift between you.

In the muted silence of the training grounds of the Red Keep, Aemond Targaryen finds himself fighting an inner battle. Remorse grips him, like a shadow that follows him everywhere. How could he have lost control so completely? How could he have hurt the woman he loves so deeply? But the anger is there, pulsing beneath the surface. Anger at himself, for not being strong enough to handle the situation. Anger at Y/n, for distancing herself from him at such a crucial moment. This frustration fuels his emotional turmoil, creating a whirlwind of emotions that torments him without respite. Bare-chested, he trains as always. The focus in his gaze as he faces a squire with blunted weapons. On the surface, he may seem like the same old prince. Yet, amidst this inner chaos, there is an intense desire for reconciliation. Aemond cannot ignore the memories of happy moments with Y/n, of solemn promises made in the temple of the Seven, of dreams of a future with her by his side. This desire drives him to find a way to repair the damage done, even though he knows it will be a difficult and uncertain path.
He does not know whether he should follow her to Dragonstone, give her space to reflect, or face the situation alone.
He must confront his nature, his actions, and the kind of man and leader he wants to be. He recognizes that he must work on his anger, his emotional management, and his ability to communicate if he wants to rebuild the relationship with Y/n and prove himself a husband worthy of trust and respect. His next step will determine not only his personal destiny but also the future of his marriage and the role he will play in the tumultuous events yet to come in the realm.

Aemond dismounts, ensuring his hood keeps him mostly covered. If anyone discovered his true journey, another war would erupt.
He walks with his head down through the mud to the inn where you've met her many times. The air is heavy with tension as their eyes meet, both aware of the weight of unspoken emotions between them. The young prince sits at a table in a more secluded corner of the room.
<<Aemond>> Alys whispers softly, with a gentle smile. <<Y/n has left for Dragonstone>> he responds hoarsely. The woman, with her captivating beauty and the wisdom that shines in her eyes, smiles. <<I understand. But you need to take time for yourself. That's why you're here>>. There is a magnetic attraction between them, a complicity born of confidences shared in moments of emotional weakness. Alys places her hand on the young prince's, looking at him with a hint of mischief.
An inner voice whispers at the back of his mind. His heart is still tied to Y/n, his lawful wife, and the awareness of betraying that bond tortures him. Every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, raises doubts about how this might affect his already fragile marriage. Alys, for her part, offers comfort and understanding, but also the risk of further complicating things.
The fact that he has decided to see her again complicates matters. Aemond is aware of the potential political consequences of this meeting, of the plots and intrigues that threaten to undermine the future of House Targaryen.
The woman rises and, closing the distance between them, sits on his knees. She wraps her arms around his neck, caresses his cheek, and leans in to kiss him. The contact is chaste at first, but soon ignites into the fire of passion that has accompanied them several times.
The call of passion is strong in the young prince. He runs his hands along Alys's thigh, gripping it firmly with his strong fingers. Then, as if suddenly realizing he had been holding his breath too long, Aemond pushes his lover away. <<I can't do this anymore>> he says, making her stand up as he rises too. <<What does that mean?>> she asks, watching him as he gathers his things from the table.
<<It means that my duties and my love for my wife are more important than what we have>> he states dryly, trying not to attract the attention of the other patrons in the inn. Alys grips his wrist tightly, looking up at him from beneath long lashes. <<I can save you from your fate>> she says coldly.
There is no longer any trace of passion in her gaze, only a strange darkness. Aemond pulls away from her grip. <<My wife is my fate>> he declares, looking down at her, walking away, ignoring the calls of the seer of the riverlands.

<<It's good to have you here, Y/n>> Rhaenyra says, smiling at you as you sit in the small study of the rightful queen of Westeros. You return her smile, looking around. <<I'm sorry for being so vague in my letter>> you say, sighing, leaning back in the chair in front of the desk. <<Has something happened?>> she asks, extending her hands so you can hold them.
<<I have no information from the small council, mother>> you smile, knowing that's not what she's interested in at the moment. <<Many things are hidden from me at the Red Keep. I know nothing of the greens' plans, nothing of the armies. I know nothing your informants might not have already revealed to you>> you conclude, squeezing her hands, caressing the back with your thumbs.

You look into her eyes, and Rhaenyra reassures you with her gaze. <<I want to know about you, my daughter>> she says, and you find yourself biting your lower lip. You certainly can't tell her about what happened with your husband. She's already seeking revenge for Lucerys.
<<Y/n, you know you can talk to me about anything>> she continues, making you nod. You release her hands and stand up, moving to the table. On it are books, scrolls, weapons, and the toys of your younger brothers. <<I know my duties as a wife. But marriage often seems more complicated than planning a battle>> you break the silence, knowing she will agree with you.
<<Has something happened with Aemond?>> she asks, rising to join you in the center of the room. You turn, looking at her. Now you see it. You clearly see the two figures merge into one; your mother and a true queen. <<I know you never approved of my marriage. It was orchestrated for politics, hoping to change things>> you say, placing one of your brother Aegon's metal soldiers back in its place. <<You hate my husband for what happened to Lucerys. A part of me hates him too and seeks revenge>>.

Now her gaze is no longer gentle, but distant and cold. <<I'm not here for that. I won't ask for pity, nor seek your forgiveness>> you continue, walking towards her. Now she looks at you, confused, unable to fully understand what you're saying. <<What happened, my daughter>> she asks, taking your face in her hands. You rest your cheek against her palm. <<For a long time, I don't even know how long anymore, I've been taking Moon Tea>> you reveal, lowering your gaze.
<<I know I shouldn't. But I can't give him an heir when our family is divided. We are at war, mother. How could I raise a child alone? How could I have a child and then abandon them to let them live?>> you let everything out, venting to the only woman who probably understands you better than anyone else. You tell her about your fears, the rifts in your marriage without going into details.
Rhaenyra holds you close, comforting you as she did when you were a child. <<I understand your fears, my dear. But you won't find the answers you seek in other's eyes. Only you know better than anyone else what you fear and what you desire>> she says, taking your face in her hands, looking into your eyes with a sweet smile.
A part of her might want to say something entirely different, but she would never deny her only daughter happiness. <<Your words comfort and confuse me at the same time, mother>> you say, laughing with her. Rhaenyra takes you by the arm. <<Take your time. Make peace with yourself and your decisions. When you're ready, decide what is best for you>> the queen clarifies, walking with you towards the large door that leads to the corridor. One of her small council members interrupts, and you let your mother return to her duties.

You remain alone in this immense room. The knowledge of your ancestors surrounds you. Dragonstone has been a constant, a safe haven for the Targaryens since before the Doom of Valyria. In this room, you learned your excellent Valyrian, studied, and played with your siblings while your dragons were trained just a few meters below you. You turn back to the large table that dominates the library and take the metal sailboat in your hands. A gift from your father Laenor for Luke.

Aemond enters his bedroom, stopping in the doorway. His eye immediately falls on you, sitting on the sofa by the fireplace. You are still wearing your cloak, the hood low, leaving your beautiful silver hair visible. He orders the guard not to be disturbed and closes the door behind him, advancing into the room.
<<You're back>> he states, placing his belongings on the table. <<Yes>> you reply, standing up and approaching him. Dark shadows under his eye indicate that, like you, he hasn't slept much. You have been apart for almost a month, and you wonder if he hasn't slept for that long. <<Did you find the answers you were looking for?>> Aemond breaks the silence, filling two cups with wine. You nod, taking one and bringing it to your lips. <<I heard you went back to her>> you state, looking him straight in the right eye. His jaw tightens.

<<She is no longer an obstacle>> he says, drinking from his cup, looking at you. <<It's so hard to believe you>> you whisper, staring at the red liquid in the glass in your hand. <<I know. But it's true. You are much more important>> he responds, lifting his hand toward you to caress your cheek as he always has. But the memories of that night still haunt him.
<<I never thought I could feel this way. You hurt me in ways I didn't even think possible>> you declare with your head down. Your plan to maintain eye contact goes up in smoke. <<I was confused, angry with myself, with the world... with you. It's not an excuse, I know. But my anger led me to do things I'm ashamed of>> he says sincerely.
<<Every wrong decision I made only showed me how much I need you in my life>>. You sigh, trying to stay calm. You don't want to cry in front of him again.

<<You broke the promises you made to the gods>> you remind him, as if this could be worse than the betrayal and the hitting. Aemond takes a step forward, his heart in his throat.
<<I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. I don't want this to be the end of us, not on the brink of a war>>. You bite your lip, conflicted. You thought you had managed to quell your inner battle. But you were wrong.
<<What made you change your mind?>> you ask, placing the cup on the table next to you. <<Every night without you, every moment I imagined you far from me, made me realize how wrong I was. I talked to myself, I reflected... and I understood that my anger and pride mean nothing without you by my side>> he says sincerely, also placing his cup on the table.
<<I thought about your plan. The one you told me about on our wedding night>> you say, taking a step forward. Playing with the buckles of his black leather overcoat. <<Having a family and fleeing across the narrow sea>> you continue, slowly unbuckling his straps under his lost gaze. You feel his hands resting on your back, caressing you before searching for the pin that closes your cloak on your shoulder. He lets it slip to the ground, along with his overcoat.

<<You won't take the moon tea anymore then?" he whispers, moving some strands of hair that had slipped in front of your face. You sigh. <<I know how you feel, Y/N. But we are at war, and we cannot predict its outcome>> he begins, placing his hands on your hips. <<I understand your concerns, but I desire an heir as much as you do. This is our duty to our house>> he continues, watching you take a step back again. His words and actions confuse you.
Does he want an heir because he loves you or just because it is his duty as a Targaryen prince? He does not want a child with the impending war but desires to have one.
<<I don't understand you, Aemond. What do you want?>> you ask, placing your hands on his chest, still covered by the linen shirt. <<There isn't an easy answer. But perhaps we should have faith in our love and our ability to overcome adversity. A child could also be a symbol of hope>> he responds, caressing your face, moving down to your neck and then to the shallow neckline of your dark red dress.

<<Are you willing to risk everything for hope, Aemond?>> you ask, following him with your eyes. <<Yes, if it means having a future with you and our child>> his words flood you like the wind that blows fiercely at Driftmark.
<<A child would make us even more vulnerable. And if something happened to you? How could I raise our child alone?>> you continue, looking up at him. <<And if we do nothing out of fear, what would we have left? Only regrets and emptiness. The war is already taking so much from us, let's not allow it to take away the possibility of a future too. A child wouldn't make us weak; it would give us one more reason to fight and survive>> he replies, placing his hands on your shoulders, looking you straight in the eyes.
Then something clicks within you both. You rise onto your tiptoes, and your lips meet in a kiss awaited for weeks. His arms wrap around you, lifting you by the thighs. You pull off his eyepatch and let it fall to the ground. He sits you on the desk and starts undressing you, removing his linen shirt and setting it aside. You admire his toned body, hardened by rigorous training.
You gasp as his long, cold fingers untie the satin ribbon that fastens your nightgown at the shoulders, starting to undress you.

He kisses your neck, moving down to your chest where he starts teasing you, making you arch your back toward him. With some effort, you manage to unbuckle his belt and let his pants fall to the ground. He removes them along with his boots. Your hand grabs his already hard cock, and a sigh escapes his lips. As he kisses you, your tongues battling each other, his right hand runs along your leg, bringing it to your hip. He digs his fingers into your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk.
His hand slides up, quickly finding your already wet entrance. Aemond gives you an approving smile, sliding two fingers inside you. He moves them in and out at a steady pace, admiring how your body melts under his expert touch. You cling to his shoulders, tilting your head back. Pleasure overwhelms you, and you scratch his back, making him moan into your ear.He helps you out of your dress, and soon you are both naked. His hands hold you, caress you as his lips trace wet paths along your now hypersensitive skin. He pulls out his fingers, licking them clean of your sweet taste. An orange ray of sunlight filters through the window, illuminating his eyes, giving him the appearance of a damned deity.
He licks his lips and, with one hand, guides his member to your entrance. With the red, hard tip, he teases you until you start begging, wanting him more and more. And your husband obliges. With a slow thrust, he slides inside you, making you both moan. He remains still for a few moments, waiting for you to adjust to his size. After getting your nod of approval, he starts moving.

He holds your hips firmly as your nails scratch his back and shoulders. Your moans fill the room. You kiss continuously, possessive touches filled with a thousand emotions. Aemond pushes you back, laying you down as he sweeps everything off the desk. He lifts your legs, placing them on his shoulders, hitting deeper points that make your head spin and your muscles contract around him. The young prince curses in High Valyrian, now at his limit. A limit you have just crossed by screaming his name. His thrusts become more erratic, and moments later, he releases his hot seed inside you. His heavy breathing matches yours. He collapses onto you, enjoying your arms wrapping around him.
He rests his head on your chest, trying to regain control of himself. You are both covered in a sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and hearts racing. You moved to your bed, where you made love again.

It is now night, and the castle is quieter than ever. You are embraced, your head on his chest, and your legs intertwined to be as close as possible to each other. Your fingers trace light, imaginary patterns on his sculpted abdomen, relaxing you both. His hand mirrors the gesture on your arm.
<<I won't do it>> you say suddenly, running your fingers through his long white hair. <<I won't take the moon tea>> you continue, feeling him smile against your forehead. No more words are needed between you.