Aebi12♥His

Sinful Desires - Aemond Targaryen x OC [Female character] (COMPLETE)

Their story began long before the dragons danced. When there were neither green nor black. Only them. Alyssa and Aemond. But when the war starts they are forced to prove their support to their family. Will they be able to stand firm in their loyalties? Or will their sinful desires for each other be more powerful?

Tags: toxic love, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, reference of self harm.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15- Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29 - Chapter 30 - Chapter 30 part II - Epilogue

Resentment - Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Tags: forced marriage, rivals to lovers, sexual tension, angst, drama, romance.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29 - Chapter 30 - Chapter 31

ONE- SHOTS

Forbidden Proposal - Aemond x Helaena Targaryen [One shot]

Helaena and Aegon are unable to conceive an heir. With their family constantly putting pressure on them, they seek the help of their younger sibling. Will Aemond, the proper and dutiful brother, accept this bizarre idea?

Tags: smut, fluff, targcest

Read here

Refuge in your arms - Helaena y Aegon II Targaryen

"Except sometimes when he is drunk."

Yes, when the wine rose to his mind, it was easy to convince himself that -at least for one night-he could be the right man for Helaena. He would then look for her in her bedroom. And she never said no. Out of duty? Probably. Though Aegon liked to think it was because he missed him, and wanted him as much as he did.

Or

An upset Aegon visits Helaena in her chambers after the family dinner.

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Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29 - Chapter 30

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Rhaena? Are you okay?”

Daeron’s worried voice brings her back to the reality of the moment. Rhaena looks away from the door of the Keep, and blinks rapidly trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes after hearing the words of the lord commander of the Kingsguard.

“The prince’s departure was very sudden, Lady Rhaena,” the man comments staring at her, as if he understands the mortification she feels, “There was no time for goodbyes.”

“Did he leave a message for me?” she can’t help but ask, hopeful. Cole’s expression is all the answer she needs. Of course, Aemond hadn’t left a message, why would he? She had ignored him for the past few days, scorned his attempts at civility, and instead chosen to behave like a spoiled child. Why would he bother to let her know he would be absent from the castle if, surely, he thought she wouldn’t care about his departure?

The thought of Aemond thinking that way brings a renewed wave of emotion to her heart, and she fights back tears again. There is no point in crying. At least not here, in front of them.

“The council awaits you,” Ser Criston reminds them.

Daeron nods and meets Rhaena’s gaze, who nods as well and walks with her cousin to the council chamber, where the members are already seated, waiting for them. It is not until the doors close behind her that Rhaena wonders why the council requires her presence.

“Prince Daeron.”

The men of the council stand and bow to their cousin, who frowns as he approaches them, “Mother,” he greets Alicent, who has remained seated, “My lords, what is the reason that requires my urgent assistance?”

“You have been named regent in the absence of your brother Aemond,” Alicent explains as she takes Daeron’s hand and offers him a fleeting smile.

Daeron’s frown deepens even further, his gaze shifting to the head of the table, whose chair remains empty. “I understand,” he answers simply, “Ser Criston said there was troubling news.”

The Grand Maester is about to speak when the Dowager Queen interrupts him, her gaze fixed on Rhaena, “Why is Lady Rhaena here?”

It is Lord Lannister who answers after a few seconds of tense silence, “Prince Aemond appointed Lady Rhaena as a member of this council before he left.”

The news clearly takes Alicent by surprise, who looks at the other men on the council as if expecting them to deny what Lord Tyland has said.

“That makes no sense,” the Dowager Queen glances briefly at her before looking back at the members, “Aemond cannot simply impose his wife’s presence on this council. She is a girl with no experience in governing the realm.”

Alicent’s words, though true, leave a bad taste inside her. Rhaena tries to maintain her mask of composure, though internally she is as surprised as everyone else that Aemond has appointed her to such an important task. She knew her cousin valued her opinion and trusted her judgment, but there was a difference between performing charitable work and handling domestic aspects of the Household and castle, and being directly involved in the administration of the kingdom. A big difference.

“I am afraid Prince Aemond was quite clear with his order, my queen,” the Grand Maester interjects.

Alicent seems to want to continue arguing, but Daeron is quicker, “Then there is no need to continue this debate. Come, Rhaena, let us begin this meeting at once.”

The Dowager Queen does not dare to contradict her youngest son. Rhaena glances at Daeron for a brief moment. He nods and she gratefully offers him a fleeting smile as she sits next to the Grand Maester.

Lord Tyland Lannister explains Lord Darry’s message, and when the man shows the drawing of Rhaenyra’s banner, nausea floods through her. Feeling herself go pale, Rhaena digs her nails into her palms hard, concentrating on the pang of pain to try and stop the flow of her thoughts. Thoughts that make her imagine the worst-case scenarios.

“Why was ser Adrian in the region?” Alicent wants to know.

“He was looking for information about some crimes that have been happening in the kingdom.”

“About the bandits on the Kingsroad, I imagine,” she hears herself say.

“Uh, yes, Lady Rhaena, about the group of bandits that have been attacking the nobles,” Lord Tyland looks at her with clear astonishment. He is not the only one. The other lords look at her with similar expressions as well.

Rhaena stops herself from rolling her eyes when she sees the suspicion on Alicent’s face. “My husband mentioned that their attacks had become increasingly aggressive,” she continues, trying to keep her voice neutral so as not to give away her nervousness, “I doubt that peasants, barely armed, could overcome trained knights.”

“That is the worrying thing, my lady,” Lannister nods, “The death of Ser Adrian and his party, along with Princess Rhaeny…”

“It is treason,” Alicent interrupts vehemently, “My son is king.”

The dowager queen’s declaration is followed by a short silence that Daeron dares to break.

“Could we be living the beginnings of a rebellion?”

“It is possible, prince,” the grand maester nods.

Alicent hides her face in her hands as Rhaena lowers her gaze. A rebellion? That was Baela’s plan, right? But why now? Why…?

“What would be the point?” his cousin continues, “Even if there were lords who still resented the outcome of the, war and supported my sister’s claim, what would they gain by starting a rebellion? There are no heirs on their side who can take the throne.”

“Perhaps they have another intention,” Lord Hayford interjects, “They probably want to destabilize the peace of the realm.”

“By assassinating royal envoys? A bit exaggerated start, in my opinion,” his cousin looks thoughtful for a few seconds.

“Wasn’t there some other message where the bodies were found? Some kind of… declaration?” Rhaena asks, her mind reminding her of the time when Rhaenyra and her court sent ravens to all corners of Westeros declaring her queen, and openly announcing the betrayal of Aegon and her half-brothers.

“No, at least, not that we know of.”

“I suppose that is why my son decided to rush to Darry,” Alicent fiddles with her rings.

“Indeed, my queen,” the Grand Maester nods.

Rhaena sighs. Of course, Aemond had wanted to act immediately. He had already been thinking about doing so weeks ago, and now, with tangible evidence that there was a larger plan in motion, he had immediately sprung into motion.

“He should not have gone alone,” she shakes her head, “The situation could be more dangerous than it seems.”

“When will reinforcements join him?” Daeron asks

“In a few days, Prince. With winter upon us, preparations become even more complicated. Only a few men managed to leave with Prince Aemond, and with the snow falling further south, they will surely not advance as quickly as they wish.”

The men continue to discuss preparations, but Rhaena tunes out their conversation, her mind abuzz with suspicion. Despite her sister’s hints, despite knowing that she had been up to something, there was a world of difference between what she had thought were Baela’s wishful thinking, and actually acting against the Crown. And worse, how had she managed it? How many other lords in the realm thought like her and wanted to dethrone Aegon? How many would be waiting for Aemond to kill him in an ambush on the Kingsroad? The thought conjures sudden images of the prince's body lying lifeless in some remote place, his blood staining the snow red… Nausea hits her so hard that she grips the table and closes her eyes, trying to breathe slowly to push the feeling away.

When the meeting finally ends, she quickly excuses herself and strides off in the direction of the Tower of the Hand. For some reason, despite knowing that Aemond is no longer in the castle, it is not until she enters his chambers and sees the maids packing away his belongings into some trunks that she is truly aware of his absence.

“Out all of you. Right now,” she orders.

The women quickly comply, and when she is alone, she flops down onto the bed and clings to Aemond’s pillow, breathing deeply the remnants of his scent. Tears, half guilt and half regret, are soon falling, and she does not bother to wipe them away.

***

“I assure you, my prince, that House Darry is loyal to your brother.”

Lord Darry’s shaky voice can be heard from the other end of the table.

Aemond has been in the castle for two weeks, being Lord Darry’s guest and conducting investigations into the murders committed by the rebels. And, so far, he hadn’t a fucking clue as to what was going on.

The bodies of Ser Adrian and his group, although well preserved by the temperatures, had not been of much help nor had they contained any clues about the possible attackers. As had happened in the other parts of the kingdom, the culprits seemed to have vanished into thin air.

But he was not going to give up.

“If everyone was loyal, Lord Darry,” Aemond says after taking a sip of his Arbor wine, “we would have found the assassins by now. But there is clearly someone around helping them hide.”

“The Riverlands is loyal to King Aegon,” the man repeats.

Aemond rolls his good eye and stares at the snow piling up on the windowsill. Fucking snow. His progress was slowed too much by the amount of snow piling up on the roads, and making the horses uncooperative. Men also did not like to ride or advance long distances when they could barely keep warm.

Everything would be different if I had Vhagar with me, he thinks bitterly as he takes another drink from his cup. On the back of his dragon he would have been able to advance without problems, he would have been able to observe the rebels’ camp from above. Because they had to be somewhere. His instinct told him that they were close, that he should continue investigating. And if he had Vhagar, he could more easily persuade the villagers and lords to hand over the rebels. He trusted no one in the bloody Riverlands.

“Let me know immediately if any ravens arrive,” he says finally, standing up and going to his chambers.

The bed, though comfortable and spacious, only adds to his bitterness. As he settles under the sheets, his face drifts to his side. To where Rhaena should be. With the time it took him to get to the castle and the argument they had before leaving, it's been almost a moon since they slept together. Since he felt her petite figure curled up beside him, her scent of roses. and her soft hands drawing circles on his chest as she fought sleep. Cursing under his breath, he removes his eye patch and prepares to sleep.

***

“Perhaps we should continue the meeting another day, Princess,” the royal butler says.

“No, no, I am fine,” she says quickly as she stifles another yawn, “I am sorry if I seem distracted, I have just been very busy these past few days.”

The man nods, and Rhaena takes a sip of the tea in front of her, but the familiar taste of chamomile tastes bitter in her mouth, so she grimaces and pushes the drink aside.

Fighting the urge to yawn and close her eyes, she listens to the butler and lays out with him what she needs for her name day party. Rhaena had had every intention of cancelling it and letting the royal council know, but they had insisted that it was best to continue with the celebration, and pretend that everything was as normal as ever.

And, in a way, it was.

There had been no further news of attacks on the Kingsroad, but there had also been no news of Aemond and his inquiries. The few times the prince had written it was only to report his whereabouts. There was, apparently, no news of the rebel criminals, and word of a possible resurgence of the black faction did not seem to have spread through the kingdom yet.

“Two bards are more than enough,” she tells the butler, “I do not wish for any other kind of entertainment than music.”

The man writes down her directions, and bids Rhaena farewell with a bow.

Once she is alone, Rhaena briefly closes her eyes, and decides to rest her head on the arm of the sofa. Just for a moment. Just…

The soft touch on her shoulder and Marianne’s voice reaches her, awakening her.

“Rhaena? Are you okay?”

“What? Where…?” Rubbing her eyes, momentarily disoriented, she looks around, realizing she is still in her private parlor in the Tower of the Hand, “Oh, I must have fallen asleep after the meeting with the butler.”

“You look very tired,” her friend sighs, “Are you resting well?”

“As well as I can, given the circumstances.”

Which wasn’t much. If it wasn’t the images of Aemond being ambushed by an army that haunted her, it was the images of her sister being accused of treason and hanged like a common criminal. Both scenarios terrified her, and worse, she couldn’t share her worries with anyone. At least, not the ones concerning Baela, not without betraying her trust or putting her in danger.

As if you weren’t betraying Aemond by staying silent, her mind reminds her. Shaking her head and pushing those thoughts away, she stands up and looks at her friend, “Do we have an engagement this afternoon?”

“An invitation from Lady Mallister to hear a new bard, but you do not need to attend. You could use the time to rest. You need it.”

“No, no way,” she replies, walking over to the table and taking a raspberry muffin. After taking a bite, a strange feeling of unease rises inside her. Rhaena sniffs it and finds it unpleasant, so she puts it back on the tray, “House Mallister is one of the oldest and most influential in the Riverlands, now that Aemond is in the region, I prefer to maintain friendly relations with all the lords of those lands who are in the Court. I do not want to risk them not supporting him just because I had a snub towards one of them.”

“I highly doubt that will happen,” Marianne comments

“But it is not impossible,” Rhaena goes to Aemond’s room, which is where she has been sleeping for the past six weeks, and looks for a dress for the occasion, “The ladies of the Court are very proud and… this will do,” she interrupts herself, taking out one of her favorite pink dresses with gold details.

“It is a little tight,” Marianne comments as she tries to button the last few buttons on the back

“Tight? How so?” she replies as she sucks in her stomach, “I wore it recently and it fit perfectly.”

“Well, now it does not fit,” her lady sighs

“That’s strange.”

Marianne tries once more but fails to close the garment, so Rhaena opts to wear one of the black and red dresses with House Targaryen detailing, and they hurry down the Tower stairs to Lady Mallister’s private chambers.

Although the bard is quite entertaining, Rhaena must fight her eyelids, which feel increasingly heavy. Still, she manages to stay awake for the evening and chats with the other invited ladies.

“When will the prince return, Lady Rhaena?”

“Surely he won’t miss you name day?”

Rhaena smiles but avoids answering, though she does notice a couple of ladies, Lady Dustin among them, exchanging knowing glances. Ignoring them, she spends the rest of the evening listening to the women and, when it is finally time to return to her chambers, she doesn’t even bother with dinner, simply entering the room, and calling one of her maids to help her out of the dress.

“You are Dalia, right?”

The young maid, who brought the moon tea for her, nods. Rhaena hadn’t bothered to speak to her directly or ask her name, but she dares to do so now.

“Yes, princess.”

“You have…” Rhaena turns to look at her and hesitates for a moment, “Do you have any way to communicate with my sister?”

“No, ma’am, I’ve never seen your sister,” she says quickly

“But you work for her.”

“A man came to give me your sister’s orders, ma’am, he’s the one…” the maid lowers her gaze

“You can speak.”

“He’s the one who gives me some gold coins, ma’am.”

Rhaena nods, “And this man? Do you know his name?”

She shakes her head and Rhaena sighs, defeated. She is about to tell her she can return to her duties, when she speaks again. “But I could… I could send a message through him,” Dalia looks nervous, “I know… I know he works at the docks.”

The docks. Probably one of Allyn’s men.

“Next time you see him, tell him to let my sister know that I need to speak to her. Urgently,” she adds. She doesn’t dare send her words in writing, not when they might be intercepted by someone.

The maid nods and leaves her room.

***

“Here, my prince!”

One of the soldiers places a middle-aged man in front of him, who falls to his knees, whimpering.

Aemond looks up at the guard, tacitly questioning him.

“He had this in his possession,” the knight explains as he extends an object towards him.

The object turns out to be an emerald ring. Aemond examines it and turns his gaze to the man, “Why did you have this in your possession?”

“I did not steal it, my prince, I swear,” the man whines once more, “I swear.”

“Where did you get it?”

The man seems to hesitate and the knight jabs him in the belly with his sword.

“I do not like to repeat myself,” Aemond says.

“I found it, prince, on the road…”

“I do not like liars either,” he interrupts and looks at the guard. “Cut off his hand.”

“No, no, please,” the man tries to run, but it’s no use, “It was payment, my lord, I swear.”

“Payment?”

“For the fish, I swear…” he replies as he looks warily at the guard, who has his sword in hand, “I’m just a fisherman… they asked me… they asked me to give them all the fish I had and they gave me this in return… I didn’t know…”

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know, my prince, I swear.”

At a new signal from Aemond, the guard hits the man, knocking out a couple of his teeth.

“I swear! I just wanted to sell the fish, sir, I swear.”

“And do your buyers usually pay you with emerald rings?” he asks, bored.

Gesturing to the guard, he steps aside so the knight can continue questioning him. A few minutes later, the man lies barely conscious on the snow.

“He keeps claiming he is just a fisherman who received the ring as payment. I doubt that is a lie.”

Aemond nods. The man is just an unimportant fellow, “Did he say anything else?”

“That there were around thirty of them and they didn’t seem to know the area well. He overheard them talking about heading to Harrenhall.”

Harrenhall. The information does not surprise him, though it does make a lurch in his stomach. Of course, it makes sense to seek refuge in a place like Harrenhall. Despite the years since the war ended, no lord was in direct charge of the castle. It was the perfect place to hide and regroup.

Fucking place.

“My prince.”

The guard looks at him, clearly waiting for orders.

It’s been almost two moons since they’ve been going from village to village investigating and checking inns, mills, houses and barns. This is the first real lead they’ve had, even if it seems to be a stroke of luck.

Or a trap.

Still, it’s better than nothing. And, although the idea of ​​having to return to that cursed place full of memories does not please him, he cannot simply let this information pass without verifying it.

“Go to Lord Darry and tell him to send a raven to the Red Keep. We are going to Harrenhall.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I just wanted to say that, although this is a story of romance, it is almost getting to the point where Rhaena -and other characters- will have to make some hard decissions regarding their loyalties or personal life. It is how I envisioned this fics since the begining, and I'm excited to write about the conflict, war and other things along the road.

I just wanted you all to have that in mind.

As always, thanks for reading :)

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

The guard's words echo in her head as her mind refuses to process what her eyes show her, the maid's lifeless figure surrounded by a pool of blood.

“Stay back, princess.”

One of the guards pushes her aside at the precise moment that Morning launches another flare of fire towards the body.

“We must contain the creature,” she hears one of the guards say, before they look at each other with swords in hand, although clearly hesitant to advance towards the dragon.

Morning growls and throws fire again, spreading her wings and wanting to fly towards the dead maid, but the chain attached to one of her hind legs prevents her from doing so. The dragon roars, furious, and the new flare of dragon fire falls dangerously close to the curtains.

“She will end up burning the entire Tower if we do not capture her,” she hears the guards say.

As Rhaena watches them walk towards her dragon, armed, and clearly willing to subdue her by any means, she finally snaps out of her stupor and stands in front of them.

“I will calm her down,” she replies, trying to sound firm, though her voice wavers, “Stand back.”

“But, princess…”

“I said stand back.”

There are a few seconds of clear doubt on the guards’ faces, and Rhaena gets the impression that they won’t comply with her order, but they finally lower their swords and back away. Heart pounding, Rhaena faces Morning, who struggles against the heavy chain to get closer to the maid’s body.

To her prey, she thinks and swallows.

Rhaena takes a deep breath and takes a tentative step towards Morning, who watches her for a moment before continuing her efforts to break free.

 “Lykirī, Dohaeras, Morning”

The dragon looks back at her, but doesn’t slow down her attempts to be free, instead growling in her direction. Rhaena repeats the order again, and takes a few more steps towards the dragon, trying to hold the iron chain to draw Morning to her side. The creature responds by flying higher and away from Rhaena.

“Please, Morning, it’s me… just…”

The dragon lets out another burst of dragon fire and her hands begin to shake. Desperation begins to take hold of her as the minutes pass and her orders are empty words that have no effect.

Think. Think, Think, she orders herself, trying to contain the trembling of her hands and the tears that cloud her eyes.

Inspiration comes to Rhaena in the form of a memory. Of a familiar melody but almost forgotten over the years. Will it work? She doesn't know for sure, but she has no other idea, so she steps forward and sings. Her voice, shaky at first, begins to sound more determined and the melody fills the room.

Morning turns to her and stops furiously beating her wings. For a moment, Rhaena thinks she's going to cover her in dragonfire, but she doesn't stop singing or looking at her. The words in High Valyrian seem to intrigue her dragon, so Rhaena tentatively raises her hand and signals for Morning to come closer. The creature's gaze falls back on the dead maid before it looks back at Rhaena, and flies towards her, coiling around her neck.

Relief hits her body so hard that Rhaena stumbles, though she manages to grab hold of one of the walls before falling. Morning rubs her snout against her neck, nausea running through her as she smells the blood on her dragon's breath.

“Keep singing.”

Aemond’s voice reaches her and makes her jump again. She hasn’t noticed the moment her cousin has entered the room, though she finds him standing next to the guards, watching the scene before him with a frown.

“You have to calm her down, Rhaena.”

She nods and resumes the song, her fingers tentatively stroking the creature’s spiked tail. Morning doesn’t protest, so the girl continues her caresses while she watches Aemond speaking to the guards in a voice so low that she can’t hear them. The men nod and quietly leave the room.

Rhaena raises her gaze to the prince, who holds hers, though he doesn’t move from his position or make any attempt to approach them. The girl focuses her gaze back on her dragon, who seems to calm completely under the melody and her touch. She doesn't know how much time passes, although it's probably just a few minutes, but when she hears footsteps outside her room, she sings louder so as not to disturb her dragon.

Aemond nods in her direction, and heads for the door, returning a few moments later with a cage similar to the one Morning uses. Rhaena understands what the prince wants to do, so she nods as well and looks down at her dragon.

“Lykirī, Morning”

Aemond tentatively moves toward the two, walking slowly and keeping his eyes on the dragon. Morning grimaces and wags her tail, but shows no signs of aggression, so the prince walks over to Rhaena and sets the cage down on the floor.

Rhaena slowly kneels and opens the cage door. Her dragon, accustomed to action, enters without making much fuss, though she growls again when her gaze drifts to the body across the room.

“It is okay, Morning, everything is going to be okay,” she whispers as she closes the cage.

Aemond helps her to her feet, and when their gazes meet, Rhaena can clearly see the annoyance and reproach in his expression.

“I didn’t think that…”

He doesn’t give her time to finish speaking as he crosses the room in a couple of strides and returns to the guards, who are carrying a metal litter of sorts, which they set down on the floor.

“What is this?”

Aemond grimaces before answering, “This is what I should have done since your dragon arrived at the castle.”

Rhaena understands the meaning of his words a moment later as the guards rush to place Morning’s cage inside the litter, immediately closing it.

“Where do you think you are taking my dragon?” she asks, outraged.

“Where do you think they are taking her?” Aemond growls back, his voice full of sarcasm.

Rhaena glares at him, but as the guards begin to advance with the litter, she goes after one of them, grabbing his arm and trying to stop him.

“No, you can’t do that, you can’t…”

The guard breaks free of her grip with ease and abruptness, pushing her away and elbowing her side. Rhaena makes a pained noise, and Aemond is at her side instantly, sword in hand and pointing at the guard, “Hurt the princess one more time and you will lose your hand,” he threatens, furious.

“It is okay, I am fine,” she rushes to tell him, placing her hand on Aemond’s arm to lower his sword. The prince turns to look at her before doing so, putting his weapon away and allowing the guards to continue their advance, “Please, Aemond, order them to stop, they cannot…”

“Follow your orders,” the prince interrupts, looking at the guards.

“No, no…” Rhaena tries to follow them, but Aemond holds her arm, preventing her, “Let me go, Aemond. Now”

“Your dragon cannot remain in the Tower,” he ignores her

“Morning didn't mean to kill her,” her gaze falls on the corpse across the room, “She didn't… she didn't know”

“A dragon is not a pet, I told you that several times,” he hisses

“The maid wasn't supposed to be in my room, I forbade them entry, you know that,” tears stream down Rhaena’s face, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did! And now a maid is dead,” Aemond curses under his breath, “I should have sent your dragon to the Dragon Pit as soon as she arrived. I didn’t do it out of consideration for you, but we can’t continue to deny the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Morning is out of control. She barely obeys you, you had to repeat your orders dozens of times and she wouldn’t even come near you,” his voice, full of fury, strikes her insides, “By insisting on treating her like a child she hasn’t bonded properly with you.”

“That’s not true! Morning obeyed, she was just… What about you? Hasn’t Vhagar attacked someone who didn’t deserve it before?”

Aemond lets go of her arm and glares at her before turning his back and walking towards the door. Rhaena reacts immediately, following him.

“I am going with you.”

“It’s best you stay here.”

“I must go with Morning.”

“She doesn’t need you now,” he replies, stopping at the door to the room, “Stay in the Tower until the situation is sorted out.”

“No! I’ll go with you or…”

“Guard!” Aemond calls out and the man appears immediately, “The princess is not to leave her chambers under any circumstances.”

“This is ridiculous!” Rhaena protests as she takes a step and is intercepted by the guard, “You cannot do this!”

The prince looks at her one last time before disappearing down the hall without another word.

***

“The dragon will be protected as per your command, prince.”

Aemond nods as he watches Morning’s litter fade into the darkness of the Dragonpit.

It has been years since he visited the place. The last time had been the day he had inspected that it had been properly rebuilt to house Tessarion and hopefully any other dragons that might be born later. After that occasion, he had not needed to return. Vhagar had always preferred to seek shelter near the beaches, so that was where the prince visited her since he claimed her.

“I want a couple extra guards watching the entrance to the cave,” he orders, “With orders to attack if they see suspicious activity. Also, no new servants or strange people are to enter, only the designated caretakers and my brother.”

“As you command, prince.”

He doesn't plan to take any chances with the safety of the last dragons of House Targaryen. The news of the servant's death would surely be public knowledge soon enough, and although the people have not rebelled or attacked a dragon again since the days of the war, he prefers not to assume that they will remain as peaceful after what happened.

Aemond returns to his horse and rides quickly to the castle, wanting to go directly to the Tower, but having to go to the Council instead.

"My prince."

The members of the council stand as he enters, sitting immediately as he takes his place at the head and places the marble sphere on the table..

"I assume you heard what happened to Rhaena's dragon," he says, addressing no one in particular.

"Very unfortunate news," Tyland Lannister comments.

“Indeed,” the Grand Maester agrees, “Poor girl.”

“Did she have family?”

“A brother. He works as a blacksmith’s apprentice in the city.”

“Has the news reached him?”

“Not yet, Prince.”

“Mmm,” Aemond looks up at Tyland, “It would be best for him to know at once. Rumors will soon spread.”

“Of course,” the Lannister nods, adding, “It would probably be a good idea to offer him some monetary compensation for his loss.”

Aemond nods.

“The silent sisters have already taken care of the body,” the Maester continues, “It appears it was a quick death and the girl did not suffer too much.”

Aemond does not answer, but instead fiddles with the marble sphere as he listens to the exchange between the two men about small mercies, feeling inwardly annoyed with the situation with each passing moment. Although he knows that no member of the council will directly say to him, they probably internally blame him for having allowed the dragon to live in the Court when never, in the history of his house, had a dragon remained in the halls as if it were just another pet.

“Shall we assume the dragon is already at the Dragonpit?” Lannister asks

“I gave orders to tighten security,” Aemond nods and then glances at Ser Criston

“I will see that it is carried out as instructed, my prince.”

“Keep an eye on the city as well.”

Tyland Lannister shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “I doubt we have another mutiny on our hands, my prince. I am sorry to say, but the lass was a young girl of no great importance, it would be a stretch to think the common people would rise up over an accident.”

“It cannot be ruled out,” Ser Criston replies

“Any other news?” Aemond asks

“A raven has arrived reporting Ser Adrian’s arrival at Maidenpool.”

“Maidenpool? They left days ago, how come they are only just at Maidenpool?”

“The snow, my lord. It hasn’t fallen on the city yet, but it slows the advance of the party.”

“Mmm,” Aemond grimaces. He had sent Ser Adrian Celtigar a few days ago in command of a group of men to gather information on the attacks on the nobles.

“Ser Adrian is a capable warrior,” Cole interjects, looking at him and surely aware of the prince’s reservations, “Surely he will be able to make up for lost time quickly, and we will have news soon.”

“Good. Inform me as soon as anything is known,” he says, turning to the maester and standing up, ending the meeting and heading straight to the Tower, where he is greeted by a strange aroma similar to the incense of the Great Sept, “What is that smell?” he asks his servant.

“The incense of the silent sisters, my prince,” the man informs, “The body was taken a few hours ago.”

“Right,” he nods, “My wife?”

“In her chambers, my prince.”

Aemond sighs and debates whether or not to go meet her. Rhaena had been very agitated after the incident, and had not taken kindly to the idea of ​​parting with her dragon, which was ridiculous considering the circumstances. She was probably still angry with him, although perhaps the hours had allowed her to think more calmly about the situation.

“Go and tell her that I wish her to dine with me.”

The servant bows and goes to carry out his orders while Aemond sits at the table set in front of him. The man returns a moment later.

“The princess… she said…” the man looks down, “The princess says she does not wish to dine, my prince.”

“Mmm,” Aemond fiddles with the dinner knife, “Go again and tell her I insist she join me.”

The servant leaves again, but when he returns, the answer is the same, “The princess says she will remain in her chambers, my lord. As… as you ordered.”

Aemond slams the knife down on the table, his temper beginning to flare. Standing up so abruptly that he knocks over his chair, he strides toward Rhaena’s room. The guard steps aside immediately, letting him through.

“I said I did not want to dine with you,” Rhaena’s words greet him, though she is facing away from him and looking out the window at the view of the Bay.

“Are you going to spend the whole night locked in here?” he asks, his voice oddly calm despite the anger he feels.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Rhaena turns to face him, “You locked me in here, didn’t you?”

“Because I needed you to stay here for a while, not because…”

“I am not interested in your explanations,” she retorts, cutting him off, “Or in your company. “Go away, Aemond.”

“Rhaena,” the prince threatens, moving closer to her, “You are my wife. I wish to dine with you tonight. Put this charade aside and come with me.”

“I do not want to,” she replies once more.

“You do not wish to know about your dragon either?”

His wife’s face betrays her, her interest and hunger for news clearly visible in her expression. The prince thinks she will relent, but ultimately Rhaena just shakes her head, “I wish to be alone.”

Aemond clenches his hands into fists and bites back his words, though he glares at her, “Fine. If you wish to be treated as a prisoner, then so be it.”

The prince leaves the room and again orders the guard not to let his wife out. Still, he calls for a maid, and orders her to bring a tray of food for Rhaena before locking himself in his own chambers.

***

The night passes slowly in a state between wakefulness and sleep. As the sun begins to rise on the horizon, Aemond gets out of bed and dresses for training. As he gets ready, his gaze wanders to the empty side where Rhaena's figure should be. After spending the last few weeks sleeping next to her, waking up without finding her or feeling the warmth of her body hugging his own, had been strange and depressing.

After leaving his room, he can't help but pass by Rhaena's. The guard greets him with a bow and Aemond is tempted to enter, to see her for at least a few minutes, perhaps to persuade her to... The prince tilts his head. No. He hasn't done anything wrong. It's she who is behaving in a reprehensible and capricious manner.

Aemond leaves the Tower and focuses his mind on his training. If Ser Criston notices his disquiet, he doesn't say anything, they just fight side by side until it's time to go to the council room. As he heads there, he encounters Daeron and his betrothed. Although he hadn't planned to stop and talk to them, he finds himself approaching them both.

“Good morning, my prince,” the young woman greets.

“Brother, Lady Westerling,” he flicks his eye to the lady, “I assume you’re on your way to see Rhaena?”

“Indeed, my lord, Lady Rhaena has an… an audience this morning, but after what happened, I wasn’t uh… I wasn’t sure she would go through with it.”

“We heard about what happened with the maid,” Daeron chimes in.

“Indeed,” Aemond grimaces, “It’s best that you, Lady Westerling, go to the Tower. Rhaena is… confined to her chambers.”

“Confined? Why?” Marianne pales, “Is she ill? Did something happen to her? They said she wasn’t hurt, I thought…”

The girl trails off at Aemond’s displeased expression. Daeron rolls his eyes at his brother and places his hand on his betrothed’s shoulder, “Surely Rhaena can explain the situation better.”

Marianne nods, “With your permission, I will go see her.”

Aemond nods, and watches her offer a smile to his brother before disappearing into the halls. When they are alone, Daeron speaks again.

“Confined?”

“Rhaena didn’t take too well to her dragon being moved to the Dragonpit?”

“And so, you locked her in her chambers?” There is a note of amusement in his brother’s tone.

“Of course not,” he replies, “Not permanently. I just want to keep her from going after Morning, you know she must learn to obey the caretakers before she begins to bond with Rhaena. She won’t be able to if Rhaena interferes in the process.”

“Of course,” Daeron nods, “It’s a shame the incident with the maid happened. Mother told me she was a young woman who had only just begun working at the palace. She and Lord Lannister met with her brother yesterday to let him know the news.”

Aemond snorts, “I thought Mother was too busy with Aegon to take care of other matters.”

“You know her, she couldn’t just stand aside,” Daeron walks beside him, “Still I think it was appropriate for a family member to show concern for what happened instead of just trivializing the fact.”

Aemond nods and they walk in silence for a few moments, “Did Mother tell you about your betrothal?”

“What would she have to say to me?”

“The idea of advancing the wedding date was discussed,” explains the prince

Daeron stops and looks down for a moment, when he turns back to face his older brother, there is a shadow of apprehension on his face, “For what reason?”

“The usual reason. Heirs.”

Aemond seems to notice his brother’s expression darken briefly, but it passes so quickly that he may have just imagined it, “Of course. The heirs,” he sighs, “Did she mention when I should be married?”

“No. Though I doubt it will take too long,” he replies and, because he can’t help but be curious, comments, “You seem to be getting along well with your betrothed.”

Daeron smirks and nods, “She will be a fine wife.”

The prince narrows his eye and examines his younger brother, but in the end simply lets his suspicions go. He has enough to worry about without adding Daeron’s possible displeasure at the idea of ​​marriage, “We will speak later. The council awaits me.”

***

Rhaena wakes up drenched in sweat, with the sheets tangled at her feet.

A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.

Not really, though.

Her eyes immediately drift to the spot where three days ago she had found the corpse of the poor maid Morning had attacked. Even though the silent sisters and other maids had thoroughly cleaned her room, she can still see the scene clearly, she can smell the blood on her dragon's snout, the heat of the dragon fire…

Rhaena sighs and walks around the room. It's barely dawn, and it's very cold, but she wraps herself in her coat and drops onto one of the sofas, hugging her legs, unable to sleep. The sound of footsteps, like the days before, warns her of the prince's presence outside her room. And, like the days before, he stays there. Without entering. Just like her, who has refused his invitations to dine together, preferring to stay in her chambers. At least at night, because during the day she walks around the Tower with Marianne, unable to spend too much time in her own room surrounded by the memory of the crime.

And then there’s Morning. She hasn’t seen her dragon in days and hasn’t pressed for information because she knows that, despite their argument, Aemond is taking good care of her. She knows the prince won’t let anything bad happen to her. Still… the urge to go to the Dragon Pit was latent inside her. She hadn’t left her dragon’s side for a single day since she hatched from the egg, and being separated now causes her pain and anguish. Her dragon had been her company, her friend, her…

Rhaena closes her eyes at the sight of Morning roaring and wanting to get closer to the corpse. Maybe – although deep down she’s sure – the prince was right. Her dragon was out of control, it wasn’t sustainable to have her by her side or in her day to day life anymore, but… she had wanted it to be her decision to send her to the Dragon Pit. She hadn’t wanted…

“I hadn’t wanted her to kill someone,” she whispers to the darkness, a tear rolling down her face again. Rhaena takes a deep breath before calling a maid to take a bath. After eating something, Marianne joins her in her private parlor, just like the other days.

“What do the Court rumors say?”

“They think you’re still processing what happened,” her lady replies, “I explained to them that you were taking a few days off from engagements for personal reasons,” when Rhaena snorts, asking, “Did I do wrong?”

“No, no, of course not,” she is quick to reply, taking her lady’s hand, “I just do not want to give the wrong impression. I do not want them to think I crumble easily.”

“It is not an easy situation. I don’t think anyone see it that way.”

“There is not much I can do, anyway.”

“Have you spoken to the prince? Have you asked him how long this situation will continue?”

“I don’t want to speak to him,” she replies, stubborn.

“I think he is genuinely sorry,” Marianne smirks, “He seems more irritable than usual these days. He surely misses you.”

“He should have thought of that before confining me to my chambers.”

Marianne clicks her tongue, “I know it wasn’t right of him, but the situation got out of hand, Rhaena. Morning…”

“I know,” Rhaena cuts her off, “I know I should have sent her to the Dragon Pit a long time ago. “I know it is basically my fault what happened.”

“I never said that!” Marianne retorts, “You were clear with your orders, it is not your fault that the young lady was not properly informed by the other maids. It was not your fault either that the cage gave way and Morning escaped.”

“I just… don’t understand,” she drops down onto the couch, defeated, “I locked her cage tight, I know I did, how could that happen?”

“She is a wild creature, Rhaena. And powerful. She broke her chains and the poor servant was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Rhaena tries to make her words lessen her guilt, though they have little effect. Deep inside, she knows it was her negligence for her desire to have Morning by her side.

“Let us talk about something else, please,” she finally asks.

“Of course,” Marianne takes some scrolls she has brought in a chest, “I have the guest list for your name day party and also possible menus, as well as some activities we could do on those days. Nothing too extravagant…”

Rhaena concentrates on approving Marianne’s ideas, making changes where she deems necessary, and helping her assign seats to the noble guests. The task takes up a good part of the day and, when evening comes, her lady takes her leave to go in search of her uncle. Rhaena remains in the parlor until night falls, knitting and focusing on intricate embroidery patterns to keep her mind off Morning, so she is unaware of the prince’s presence until he is almost in front of her.

“I see you decided to leave your room.”

“Do not worry,” she replies, standing up, “I will return to my confines right away.”

“I’d rather you stayed here.”

Rhaena thinks she detects a note of hope and vulnerability in Aemond’s voice, but when she looks at his expression, she finds it as serious and indifferent as ever, “And I prefer to return to my solitude.” Pushing her embroidery aside, she stands up and begins to walk to the door.

“Rhaena,” the prince’s voice makes her pause, “How long will you continue to behave like a spoiled child?” She bites her tongue to keep from responding and falling for his provocation, walking again. His words make her pause again, “You are my wife. You owe me obedience.”

Rhaena turns to look at him, “Are you going to order me to spend time with you now?”

Aemond glares at her, “Of course not. I simply meant that I… I…”

The prince stops talking and Rhaena watches how nervous he seems, drumming his fingers on his thighs. She waits for him to finish what he was going to say, but it is clear that he will not. Part of her feels disappointed, as she would like to know what it is that is so hard for him to admit.

“Then, unless you are going to take by force what you want from me, I prefer to go to my rooms.”

***

Aemond has a budding headache as he enters the council chamber.

“What is it?” he asks without wasting any time.

A servant had interrupted his inspection of the new weapons acquired for the Kingsguard, informing him that the council was urgently awaiting him.

“Ser Adrian Celtigar, my lord,” the Grand Maester speaks, “We received a raven from Lord Darry. They found the bodies of Ser Adrian and the entire party you sent… slaughtered.”

Aemond’s fury is palpable, his hand involuntarily going to his Valyrian steel dagger as he processes the news.

“Are you telling me that common bandits managed to kill trained knights?”

“We have no certainty that it was the bandits, my prince,” Lannister interjects.

“That’s even worse,” Aemond hisses, “Who would dare assassinate envoys of the Crown? That affront is reason enough to call to arms.”

The men look at each other, but no one says anything for a few seconds until the Grand Master dares to extend another piece of parchment towards Aemond.

“My prince, this… this was stuck in Ser Adrian’s head.”

Aemond takes the scroll and opens it, finding a drawing of a familiar banner he thought he would never see again.

“This is treason,” he retorts, tossing up the drawing of the coat of arms used by Rhaenyra during the rebellion, “We must act immediately. Prepare my departure as soon as possible, I will go myself.”

“My prince, no, it is not wise,” Lord Tyland says quickly, “You are the regent, you cannot be absent…”

“This could mean war,” Aemond interrupts, “And I clearly cannot send other soldiers because they do not seem capable enough to fulfill their duty.”

“Send me, my prince,” Ser Criston proposes, “I can go with a few men, and gather information on the situation.”

“No, I prefer that you remain here.”

“Prince Daeron, then,” the grand maester says, “Along with his dragon, he will surely be of help in deterring the rebels.”

“My brother will remain in the city,” he answers flatly. He had already erred in trust once and left King’s Landing unprotected. His foolishness had brought terrible consequences for his family. He did not intend to repeat his mistake and leave his family, leave Rhaena, in the care of simple soldiers, “Daeron will act as regent on my behalf. Ser Criston, I want your best men ready to leave this very afternoon.”

“But, my prince…” the maester intervenes again, “With winter beginning, you cannot simply leave the city. The provisions…”

“I suggest you take care of that immediately, then,” his tone lets the man know that it is not a simple suggestion, but an order. After that, no one else dares to dissuade him or suggest otherwise, “One more thing. My wife will participate in the council meetings during my absence.”

“My prince?” Tyland Lannister looks at him, astonished.

“What you heard, Lannister,” he replies abruptly, “Lady Rhaena must be informed of the situation of the city and the kingdom, as well as being able to decide with you on whatever is necessary.”

“But, my prince, your brother Daeron will be the regent, I do not understand.”

“You do not need to understand, only obey,” Aemond says.

And with that, he leaves the council room with Ser Criston.

***

The door to her private parlor opens to allow her cousin to enter.

“Daeron?” Rhaena smiles at him as she stands, “I was not expecting you.”

“I am sorry if I interrupt your activities,” the prince takes her hand and brings it to his lips, brushing her knuckles, “I thought you might want to get out of the Tower for a bit.”

“Oh, well…” Rhaena sighs and looks away, “I do not know if you are aware, Marianne probably mentioned it, but I am currently confined to the Tower.”

“Yes, I heard,” he nods, “Though my brother assured me it wasn’t permanent.”

In that, Rhaena thinks, he was right. She had heard Aemond inform the guards that Rhaena could leave if she so wished, but she had wanted to irritate him a little more by staying a few more days in the Tower.

“I thought we could visit the Dragon Pit.”

“Really?” Rhaena looks at him, amazed

“Yes, of course I can’t guarantee that you will see Morning, but I think you’d feel more at ease if you knew more about the place where she is staying.”

Rhaena smiles at him, grateful. Apart from having seen the building in passing during her arrival in the city or her walks, she hadn’t explored it inside.

“Do you think it is wise?”

“It is now,” her cousin assures, “Dragons are usually accustomed to the presence of caretakers from birth. Yours didn’t have that experience, which is why Aemond insisted you not see Morning for the time being. My brother didn’t mean to take you away from your dragon, I promise.”

Rhaena knows that. She had let herself be blinded by grief and guilt the first few days, but she knew that the best thing for Morning was to remain in the Dragonpit, and be treated and trained like the other dragons in her family.

“I am ashamed, to tell the truth,” she admits as she takes the arm her cousin offers her as they leave the Tower, “I was too stubborn to insist on having Morning with me, even when I knew I couldn’t control her. We cannot deny her instincts.”

“It is true,” Daeron nods.

“And a young girl paid for my mistakes. Her name was Betsy, she had just started serving at the castle,” Rhaena had finally dared to make inquiries about the maid, “Have you heard anything about her family?”

“My mother met with her brother to give him the news.”

“Do you know where I can find him? I would like to speak to him, I would like to…”

“Offer your condolences?” Daeron looks at her sympathetically, though his expression hardens, “It is not a good idea, Rhaena. As much sympathy as we have for the servant, you are a princess and the wife of the Hand of the King. To visit or summon this man would be to give the matter more importance.”

“But it is important!” she replies, “She was a young girl, an innocent life.”

“I know, I am aware of that,” his cousin assures, “But you must understand that the accident happened in the castle, in a place where she should have been safe. If we cannot guarantee her safety within our own keep, they will begin to perceive us as a weak family. We cannot afford that now, just as we cannot afford you to show too much sympathy towards the young girl. There is a reason we are the royal family and they are…”

“The common people,” Rhaena finishes, feeling inwardly sickened by his words, “It is not fair.”

“No, it is not.”

They remain silent for a long moment as the carriage takes them to the Dragonpit. When Daeron helps her down, he speaks again, “Don’t let yourself be consumed by grief, Rhaena. It was an accident, you never wanted it to happen. You must put it behind you and move on.”

Rhaena wants to tell him that it's not as easy as he thinks, but she knows he's right. She knows that, as harsh as reality is, there's not much she can do to change it.

“I'd like to at least be able to help her brother, even if it's anonymously.”

“We've already taken care of that, don't worry.”

Rhaena gives him a sad smile, and allows him to lead her into the building, which is bathed in shadows and barely lit by a few torches on the walls. Six golden cloaks greet them, and a moment later, the dragon keepers appear to inform her about her dragon, who they say has adapted quite well to her new home.

“This place is very well guarded,” Rhaena comments as they leave.

“My brother ordered security to be doubled when Morning was brought in.”

Daeron's words manage to form a knot in her stomach. She knew Aemond was protecting her dragon, but seeing firsthand that he had done everything he could to ensure Morning was safe warms her heart.

“I have been a fool,” she admits as they walk back to the carriage. Daeron simply looks at her, raising his eyebrows and tacitly asking for an explanation. “I took my guilt and pain out on Aemond. I knew he was right about this whole matter, and that he was looking to resolve it in the best way possible, but I chose to be angry with him instead. I owe him an apology.”

A smirk appears on the prince’s face, “Funny.”

“What is it?”

“I just… remembered the first time we were in a carriage, when you had just arrived in the city,” he explains, “I remember your expression when you found out you were to marry Aemond. You seemed horrified at the prospect, and now… a lot has changed between you two since then.”

Rhaena blushes and looks down, though a small smile appears on her face. Fortunately, the carriage stops in the courtyard of the Keep, and her cousin helps her out.

“What’s all the hustle and bustle?” she asks as she watches soldiers giving orders, and servants placing different objects on carriages.

“Let’s find out,” Daeron proposes, and heads over to Criston Cole, “Ser Criston, what is happening here?”

“My prince, princess,” the knight greets them, “The royal council urgently requires both of your presence.”

“Now?” Daeron frowns, confused.

“Yes, my prince, troubling news has arrived from the Riverlands.”

Rhaena receives his words with a jolt in her heart, “What kind of troubling news?” she hears Daeron ask, but she looks to Ser Criston instead and asks, “Where is Aemond?”

There is a moment of confusion and hesitation in his expression, but finally the knight answers, “The prince insisted on personally taking care of the matter, and leaving to Maidenpool.”

“When will he leave? How come I didn’t know about this? Where is he?”

Rhaena scans the courtyard with her gaze, trying to find Aemond’s platinum hair, but without success. It isn’t until Ser Criston gently places one of his hands on her shoulder, that she faces the knight again.

“The prince is not in the castle, Lady Rhaena. He left a few hours ago.”

Thanks for reading :)

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Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A powerful sweet smell that barely manages to hide the stench of putrefaction greets him when he enters his brother's chambers.

“Mother? Did you send for me?”

When he finally reaches the bed, he finds Alicent accompanied by Grand Maester Orwyle watching over his brother's sleep, who seems to complain while a pained expression crosses his face.

“I assume this meeting has something to do with Aegon's health?”

His mother closes her eyes and it is the Grand Maester who speaks, “The king’s wounds and pain have worsened over the past couple of days. In addition, there are other worrying signs.”

“What kind of signs?”

“Fevers, palpitations, and the color of his skin that indicate something is not working properly, my prince.”

Aemond focuses his attention on Aegon, on his sallow skin that can be seen despite the dim lighting of the room, on the spaces on his head where his hair seems to have fallen out, on the wounds on his leg that seem darker than usual and raw. He does not remember exactly the last time he saw his brother, but he did not seem to be this bad.

“Is there something you can do?”

“Not much. I am afraid the usual remedies are not working,” the maester looks with pity at Aegon’s figure, “The king is relying more and more on milk of the poppy, and wine to numb his pain.”

“It is a divine punishment,” Alicent murmurs, but Aemond decides to ignore her comment, although an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Is this all part of the process of his illness? Couldn’t it be caused by something else?”

The Grand Maester seems to understand his concern immediately, “It does not seem to be related to any poison, Prince. At least no known poison.”

His mother gasps, clearly frightened as she looks at her two sons, “It’s not possible, they couldn’t…”

“It is unlikely,” Aemond interrupts, “But perhaps we should increase security measures. A new royal cupbearer, as well as an additional servant to taste Aegon’s food.”

“I will oversee everything personally,” Alicent lightly pats Aegon’s hand, “Your brother cannot die, the gods cannot take him away.”

“He is in constant pain, mother, he cannot even walk.”

“He doesn’t have an heir,” Alicent looks at him, frowning.

“I am next in line to the throne, I am the heir,” Aemond replies mechanically.

“Which changes nothing, you do not have a son either,” his mother shakes her head and purses her lips, “The kingdom will remain in uncertainty as long as you and your wife fail to produce an heir.”

Aemond grimaces and looks away so as not to let his mother know how much her comment bothers him.

“The prince and Lady Rhaena have been married for barely two moons, my queen, usually these matters take a little longer. Or perhaps, if the gods are merciful, Lady Rhaena might already be expecting.”

“But she is not, her moonblood arrived without delay.”

Aemond can't contain the displeasure in his voice, "Have you been spying on my wife?"

"Don't take it so personally, Aemond, the life of a royal couple is in the interest of the realm. Especially when said couple has such an important task to fulfill."

There is a moment of tense silence in which the prince tries to contain his temper, and mask his expression in his usual indifference. Once again it is the maester who intervenes.

"Time will tell, Your Grace, surely Lady Rhaena will give us positive news soon."

"I am afraid we do not have much time, Grand Maester," Alicent replies, turning once more to look at Aegon. A sigh escapes her lips before she speaks again, "Perhaps it would be a good idea to rush Daeron's wedding. Lady Westerling could be the answer to our prayers."

Her mother's words burn inside him like acid, causing a bitter feeling of jealousy and anger to mix. Glaring at her, he clenches his hands into fists, and speaks to the maester, “Let me know if there is any change in the king’s health.”

Orwyle bows, and Aemond gives a last resentful look to a seemingly unfazed Alicent, who has returned to sit near Aegon, before leaving the royal chambers.

The cold night air that seeps through the corridors of the Keep is a welcome change and gradually clears his mind. Although he should be used to his mother's comments by now, having grown up hearing her be dismissive and harsh towards anyone who does not behave or act as she expects or considers appropriate, he cannot avoid the pain and bitterness that being the center of such comments produces in him.

As he crosses one of the inner courtyards, he cannot help but look up at the sky. The full moon shines brightly overhead, bathing everything around him in a ghostly glow. A sad smile crosses his lips as he thinks of similar nights on the back of Vhagar. His dragon, so huge that it could cover the silhouette of the moon. If only he could fly through the skies with her again…

A shadow crossing the courtyard, seen out of the corner of his good eye, snaps him out of his thoughts. Aemond turns to where he noticed the movement and brings his hands to his knife, suddenly feeling anxious. Moving forward silently, he examines the hallway where he thinks the shadow disappeared, but finds nothing but silence.

An owl sings, breaking the stillness of the night, and Aemond puts the knife back in his belt.

It was probably nothing, he tells himself as he resumes his walk to the tower. Yes, it must have been nothing. The Keep is well guarded, and his mind is most likely playing tricks on him.

Still, he cannot shake the anxiety he feels as he climbs the stairs of the Tower. The guards greet him, and the stillness of the place fails to comfort him. Aemond first examines Rhaena's drawing room, but finds it empty. For a moment he considers calling a servant and asking for his wife, but when a sharp pain appears in the scar on his eye, he desists. Perhaps it would be best to spend the night alone. The discomfort of his scar usually prevents him from sleeping, so it is best not to condemn Rhaena to a sleepless night as well.

The prince undoes the buttons of his doublet and pulls it off as he enters his room, the pressure on his eye increasing. Cursing under his breath, he tosses the garment carelessly onto one of the pieces of furniture, wanting to get under the covers. But when he reaches the bed, he finds Rhaena quietly reading one of his books.

“You are here!” A smile lights up her face. Aemond simply nods, the pain causing him to close his eye. His expression must discourage her, because when she speaks again, there is hesitation in her voice, “I can… I can leave if you’d rather be alone tonight.”

“No, no,” his response is immediate despite his previous intentions of not having her by his side tonight, “I want you to stay.”

Relief is clear on his wife’s face, as she pushes back the covers and approaches him. Aemond can’t help but glance at her despite the pain, taking in the way the silk of her nightgown flatters her curves.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper as she helps him place the knife on the nightstand and hands him a long nightgown.

“It is just an old pain on the scar,” the prince nods.

Rhaena’s worried gaze immediately shifts to the wound and the patch. Aemond steps away from her, escaping her scrutiny.

“Should I call Maester Orwyle?”

“I know what he is going to tell me,” he replies, shaking his head as he pulls on his nightclothes, “I have an ointment for nights like this.”

“And where is it?”

Aemond hesitates for a moment before moving his head to the nightstand, “In the drawer.”

Rhaena goes to the drawer and opens it, finding a small glass bottle that fills the room with an herbal scent as soon as she removes the cork that seals it, “Smells nice,” she comments as she climbs onto the bed and extends her arm to Aemond, “Come here.”

The prince watches her for a few long seconds. Despite the smile on her face, Aemond can tell how nervous Rhaena is as she waits for him to do as she asks.

“I just want to apply the ointment,” Rhaena’s voice is a thread of indecision as he does nothing but observe her, still standing at the end of the bed.

Aemond does not want to make her feel bad, but the idea of ​​closing the distance between them and allowing her to tend to him seems too intimate. And unfamiliar. When was the last time he had allowed someone to take care of him? He did not even like being examined by the maester. And then there was the matter of the scar. He does not want to get close to her and watch her eyes fill with pity or disgust as she looks closer.

Rhaena sighs and lowers her hand with a defeated expression. And it’s that hint of pain that she can’t seem to diminish and that appears on her face that makes him discard his worries from a few moments ago, and simply climb into bed.

Aemond moves to stand beside her and frowns, “It is not a pretty scar.”

“I have seen it before.”

“The patch hides the most grotesque part of the wound, but without it…”

“I have seen you with your sapphire too,” she assures as her hand tentatively caresses his cheek. Aemond nods against her touch, “Come, lie here.”

The prince settles his head on her legs, his platinum hair spreading over her thighs as he removes the patch from his eye. Rhaena gives him a sideways smirk before pouring a few drops of the ointment onto two of her fingers and delicately smearing the scar.

“How frequent are these pains?”

“I used to get them all the time after the attack,” Aemond watches her face, not wanting to miss any expression, part of his mind still hoping to see some hint of displeasure in her expression, “They became less frequent over time.”

Rhaena nods, her fingertips gently massaging the surface of the wound from top to bottom, a steady motion that relaxes him, and makes him close his good eye.

“Can’t the maester do anything to prevent them?”

“No. I do not think so,” he replies with a shrug, “They are nothing to worry about. I just get them very occasionally, usually when I cannot sleep well.”

“But you were fine this morning.”

Aemond nods and opens his eye again. Rhaena looks thoughtful as she continues her massage. Aemond reaches up, and tangles his fingers through his wife’s curls, bringing a lock of hair to his nose and breathing in her rose-like scent.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” he replies, overcome by her scent, “Thank you.”

Rhaena smiles and joins her hand with the prince’s, “If it happens again, let me know. I want to be able to help you.” Aemond nods and they look at each other for a moment before she speaks again, “Are you hungry? Or did you have dinner with your mother and brother?”

“No, but I do not think I can eat right now.” She frowns and watches him. Aemond explains, “Pain takes away my appetite.”

“Oh, I understand.”

Aemond gets up from her lap, and lies down beside her. Rhaena mimics his action, though she turns around and props herself up on her elbow so she can watch him.

“My brother’s health has taken a turn for the worse,” he finally says, knowing she must be curious about the reason for his mother’s call.

“Is it bad?”

“I don’t think he has much time left,” he admits. Because, although the maester hadn’t dared say it in front of his mother, Aemond remembers the helpless look on his face. The same one he’d had when his father was close to death.

“I am so sorry, Aemond.”

Her words surprise him. The prince turns to her, frowning, “Why?”

“Why? Because he is your brother,” Rhaena looks at him, confused, “It must be hard for you to see him so ill.”

“Mmm,” Aemond looks away, “He’s been badly wounded for many years.”

“That does not mean it gets any easier for you or your mother.”

Aemond mulls over her words, his memories returning to that fateful afternoon on Rook’s Rest. He had tried to protect his brother, had done his best to keep him and Sunfyre from taking the brunt of the battle, but Aegon had insisted on provoking Meleys. In the end, he had to take down Rhaenys, and put his brother on the back burner.

“It is funny,” he finds himself saying, “When I think of Aegon, I always imagine him with his dragon or running through the halls of the Keep. Always on the move.”

“Were you two close?”

“We are too different to be close,” he shakes his head

“Not even as children?”

“As children, his playmates were Rhaenyra’s boys,” he admits. “My brother found it fun to exert some influence over them. They formed a small group that I could not join because I did not have a dragon. That made me the frequent butt of their jokes.”

Rhaena takes his hand again, caressing the palm with her thumb, “What did you do if you weren’t with them?”

“I trained with Cole or read in the library. If I didn’t have lessons, I was usually with my mother.”

A smile appears on Rhaena’s face, “I think I can picture you as a child next to Alicent.”

Aemond smirks, “She didn’t have much free time, but she let me hang around her, except when she was tending to my father. I couldn’t enter his chambers. He was either always busy or too sick.”

The prince closes his eye and remembers afternoons spent with his mother in the sept, the sound of her dark green dresses brushing against the floor as she gave orders to the servants, her bored expression when she listened to Helaena talk about her bugs.

“Sometimes I would sneak out to the dragon pit and try to take a Dreamfyre egg, too.”

“I do not believe you!” Rhaena gasps, “You could have died!”

“I came close a couple of times,” he smiles at the memory, “They were the only times my mother ever lost her temper with me.”

“Rightly so,” she replies, “It is awfully dangerous to get close to a dragon bonded to another rider. Especially a full-grown dragon with eggs, surely you knew that. What about Helaena? Didn’t she mind your adventures?”

“Not at all. My sister was a gentle soul, not bothered by my attempts.”

Nostalgia washes over him as he thinks of Helaena. The mental image of his sister soaring through the sky alongside her dragon fills him with sadness, so he quickly changes the subject.

“What about you? What was it like growing up in Pentos?”

“Oh well, Pentos is such a vibrant, colorful city. There was always something to do, something to distract yourself with, but my favorite place was the bay. I could escape and dip my feet whenever the heat was stifling,” a wistful smile appears on her face.

“Did your family live in a palace?”

“Yes, the prince of the city showered my parents with praise and gifts, he wanted the protection of their dragons. There was almost always a party or dinner with important guests at home. My mother was very good at entertaining her visitors.”

“You learned from her, I suppose.”

“I used to follow her around whenever I could, too,” Rhaena smiles, “And, when Baela wasn’t with her dragon or at her lessons with father, we used to play around the house.”

“Mmm,” Aemond tangled his finger in her curls again.

“At night, though,” Rhaena continues, “I would take my dragon egg, the one that had been mine since the cradle, and place it by the fireplace in the hopes that it would hatch.”

“On your own?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, amazed at the unusualness of the situation.

“Yes, on my own,” she nods, “The Guardians had long since given up on my egg. My mother told me that it would be best to find a dragon to bond with when we returned to Westeros, and Baela wanted me to find another egg, but I could not just let go the one I had. It was my egg, so I would sit by the fireplace and pray to all the gods that I would have a dragon so I could be worthy of my name, and my father.”

“Including the Seven?”

“Including the Seven,” she says, “That is why I know the prayers and chants. I used to think that one of them had to listen to me and help me. I stopped doing that after my mother died.”

Aemond sees the pain in her expression and caresses her face. She smiles and continues, “In the end, it turned out that I was right about my egg, I just had to wait.”

“Your patience was rewarded.”

“And now I have Morning. And you have Vhagar.”

“In my case… I knew I had to act at the first opportunity that presented itself. When I saw Vhagar sleeping among the dunes on the beach at Driftmark, I didn’t think about it too much. The largest dragon in the world.”

“Being claimed by a small child,” Rhaena retorts. Aemond watches her expression, expecting to find bitterness or anger, but she simply sighs, “I would not have admitted it then, but you were very brave in facing Vhagar.”

“The timing was not ideal, though.”

Rhaena nods, and closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, her gaze goes to his scar, “Another thing I did not say then, I am sorry, Aemond. I never wanted that night to end so bloodily when I woke my cousins. If I hadn’t involved them, if we hadn’t waited for you in the tunnel, perhaps everything would have been different.”

“The only thing different would be that I would have kept my eye,” he replies, “War was inevitable.”

“Perhaps,” Rhaena nods.

“I… uh… regret my words that night too,” he says without much thought, “I was cruel to mention the loss of your mother.”

“You were. Although I did get a little bit of revenge while I was beating you up when you were on the ground.”

“Four against one!” Aemond growls and then asks “I seem to recall pushing you?”

“I still have a scar on my knee from your attack!” she retorts with mock indignation.

 “Unacceptable,” Aemond murmurs, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, brushing her knuckles, “Though you were the one who attacked first!”

Rhaena giggles and shakes her head, “I wish none of that had happened. Can you imagine? If we had lived in peace, without wars and family feuds.”

“I doubt that would have been possible.”

“Oh, come on, humor me,” she gently pats his shoulder, “Your sister would be with us. And her children”

“Mmm,” Aemond smiles, though he prefers not to think about it, even if it is just a fictional scenario.

“And my sister would be married to Jace. And I would marry…”

Rhaena pauses and Aemond raises his eyebrows at her, “Me. I would have needed a Targaryen wife too.”

“It’s true,” she nods and lets herself fall onto the mattress, “Maybe we would have ended up married as well in that other reality.”

Aemond doesn’t answer, but he pulls her closer to his body, holding her by the waist. Rhaena hides her face in his chest, and her hands hug the prince’s body.

“I am glad to be here with you,” he hears her say.

The prince breathes in her rose scent, and feels his body relax.

“Me too,” he admits quietly.

***

Ellyn Baratheon gracefully steps out of the carriage that has stopped in front of the Great Sept. Her presence astonishes Rhaena, who has come to the temple at Alicent’s urging.

“Your Grace,” she greets with a curtsey as she reaches her side.

“Lady Rhaena,” the young woman nods, “I did not know you would be joining us this morning.”

“The Dowager Queen was kind to invite me.”

A lopsided smile appears on her face, and Rhaena wonders if Ellyn detects the false complacency in her voice.

“Of course,” Ellyn lifts the skirts of her sky-blue dress, and begins to climb the temple stairs, “We should hurry. The service will begin shortly.”

Rhaena follows silently, wondering how to bring up the subject of her unanswered invitations.

“I am glad to find you here, Your Grace. It is good to see you in good spirits and…”

“I am sorry if I gave you the impression I was avoiding you, Lady Rhaena,” Ellyn interrupts, stopping outside the sept, “I wasn’t ready to see anyone. I am having a harder time returning to court life than I expected, I hope you can understand.”

“Of course, Your Grace, it is more than understandable,” she says quickly, “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable or make any claims, I merely wished to offer my friendship.”

Ellyn does not respond, only nods and points to the Great Sept with her head. Seeing them walk together, the courtiers and townspeople who have attended also kneel, greeting them. The queen does not stop for any of them, so Rhaena does her best to greet them with a smile before making her way to where Alicent is already seated.

The service begins punctually, and Rhaena does her best to appear interested, although inwardly she wishes she could have stayed in the Keep deciding with the royal steward what was necessary regarding the nobles’ meals now that they must enter a more austere period.

When the High Septon finally finishes his sermons and the ritual ends, he approaches her to talk. Rhaena entertains him for a few minutes, listening patiently before greeting some of the other nobles gathered there. Eventually, he goes in search of Alicent, finding her kneeling at the Mother’s altar.

“It is her custom to light candles for her relatives who are no longer here,” explains Ellyn, whom she has not heard approaching, but who is now at her side.

Rhaena wonders if the Dowager Queen will light any in memory of her cousins ​​or Rhaenyra.

“I imagine she finds comfort in it,” she replies, watching the queen murmur prayers with her eyes closed.

“I suppose, though in my experience, it did not comfort me in the least,” the young queen sighs and turns to look at Rhaena, “Queen Alicent insisted on bringing me here to pray for the babies I lost.”

“I did not know,” Rhaena admits, “I am sorry.”

Ellyn looks down and Rhaena thinks she sees her eyes watering as she faces her again, “It was not my destiny to be a mother, I hope you have better luck than me in that regard.”

Rhaena doesn’t know what to answer, so she looks back at Alicent. Is that why she has insisted for them to come to the Sept? Does Alicent hope that her gods will grant the Targaryen the long-awaited heir?”

“Will you come with me?” Ellyn asks, drawing her out of her mind, “I will go to the Father’s statue to pray for my husband. I don’t know if you are aware, but his health is not the best.”

“I know,” she nods and follows the queen to the most illuminated altar of all. Ellyn takes one of the straws and lights a candle, kneeling down and raising her eyes to the statue. Rhaena imitates her, although she does not light any candle, “I hope the king finds relief from his pain.”

Ellyn offers her a smile that seems sincere and joins her hands in prayer. Rhaena waits by her side, silent, until the queen finishes her prayers. As she watches, she can't help but wonder if Ellyn Baratheon has genuine affection for Aegon or if this is just an expected act of her position. Or perhaps a mixture of both.

“Thank you, Lady Rhaena, for waiting with me,” Ellyn replies, standing up and offering her a hand to help her up.

Rhaena walks beside her to the exit of the Great Sept. The people gathered outside call out their names. The princess goes up to them, offering them gold coins and receiving flowers from a small boy with an adorable smile.

“You are good to them,” Ellyn comments as they return to the carriage.

“It is part of our responsibility as their rulers.”

“I suppose so,” she admits, “Though I was never very good at dealing with the common people. Or with many of the nobles, if I am honest. I have heard that you are far better at it than I was.”

“I try to do my best, though the courtiers surely miss their queen at Court.”

“I doubt it, Lady Rhaena,” she sneers, “And, if we are honest, I do not miss Court either. As far as I am concerned, you should continue to handle the ladies' endless hearings and complaints."

“I would not wish to occupy a position that is not mine, my queen.”

“You are not doing so. I assure you that you are doing me a favor by taking my responsibilities under your charge.”

“Are you sure? We could perhaps divide up the duties, surely you will want to occupy your time and mind with your previous duties now that you are well again.”

Ellyn Baratheon places her blue eyes on Rhaena’s, “I do not know if you are aware, Lady Rhaena, but my last child lived in my womb for almost seven moons. When he died, while still inside me, I had to birth him and watch him come lifeless into this world. I do not know if I will ever fully recover from that experience, but I know that dealing with the problems of the kingdom again will not bring me any relief.”

Once again, Rhaena does not know what to say, although she tries to mask her expression and avoid shedding the tears that she feels stinging in her eyes.

“I do have one request, however.”

“Of course, whatever you wish, my queen,” she replies, clearing her throat.

“I heard that you are helping an orphanage in Flea Bottom. Sadly, I didn’t usually care about such causes before, but I would like to be able to visit them and see that they receive what they need. I think my heart will feel a little better surrounded by motherless children.”

“Of course,” Rhaena nods immediately, “If I am honest, I do not have much time for charity now that I have other obligations, I am relieved to know that you will take care of that matter.”

The queen smiles at her and, when the page announces that they have arrived at the Keep, they walk together to one of the courtyards.

“Thank you for the company, Lady Rhaena. I see that people were not exaggerating when they spoke of your charm.”

“Thank you, my queen. I am glad that I could have been of your pleasure and help.”

Rhaena curtsies and watches her walk away, sighing when she is finally alone.

Since she has no commitments scheduled, she decides to go up to the Tower to rest before dinner, and wait for Aemond. Still remembering her conversation with the young queen, she slowly climbs the steps, lost in her thoughts. But she is abruptly pulled away from them when she walks through the front door and is greeted by screams and the roar of her dragon.

Rhaena stops for a moment and watches the guards running, so she follows them and notices that they are heading to her room. A maid is crying in the hallway, desperate and shaking with fear.

“What happened? Why…?”

“Ma’am, your… your dragon…” the girl shudders, “She didn’t know… she shouldn’t have come in…”

Rhaena, aware that she won’t get any answers from the maid, rushes into her room when she hears Morning roar again.

A blast of dragon fire greets her, though it is not directed at her and is barely larger than the fire in the fireplace, it manages to fill the room with warmth.

“Lykirī,” she calls out as she enters the room, “Dohaeras, Morning.”

The guards advance towards the dragon, swords in hand, clearly intent on taking down the creature.

“Stop, do not go any further,” she orders, “You will not come near my dragon.”

“Princess, the creature attacked a maid.”

“What do you mean?”

Rhaena falls silent as her eyes scan the room, finding the figure of a maid, a young girl surely younger than her, bleeding profusely from wounds on her neck and arm.

“Help her!” she orders.

“It is pointless, princess,” the guard replies, “She’s dead.”

Thanks for reading :)

Next chapter maybe on sunday :)

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Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

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Rhaena wakes up surrounded by his scent. A smile forming on her lips, she spreads out her hands trying to reach the prince, but only finds cold sheets and an empty bed. Sighing, she rubs her eyes and steps out from under the covers, drawing the curtains to watch the faint rays of sunlight filter through the cloud-covered bed.

“Your breakfast, princess.”

The maid’s voice takes her by surprise, but she only nods as she goes to the small table where the young woman has laid out the tray.

“And your tea.”

Rhaena looks at the cup of steaming moon tea. She has continued to request it from the maid appointed by her sister, but has not even attempted to drink it.

“Prepare my bath and then ask Lady Westerling to come.”

The maid nods and leaves the room. Once alone, she takes the opportunity to throw the tea into the fireplace, causing a hiss from the flames.

“Lady Westerling is already waiting for you in your drawing room, my lady.”

Rhaena rushes to change into one of her favorite mauve dresses before joining her friend, who happily nibbles on a raspberry pastry while waiting for her.

“Oh there you are,” Marianne stands up and sets the pastry down on the tray, offering her a smile.

“My dear Marianne,” Rhaena comes to her side, “I am glad you are available this morning.”

Her lady’s cheeks are tinted with blush, “Prince Daeron has gone to tend to Tessarion.”

“Then I must make the most of his absence and with it the opportunity to have you by my side again.”

“What an exaggeration!” Marianne smirks, “I know I have been distracted, but I have fulfilled my duties. I have already answered all of your correspondence, and selected two new ladies to handle…”

“You know I am only joking,” Rhaena takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, “I am glad you and my cousin are still on good terms.”

“Me too,” her friend sighs, “I imagine your marriage is on the right track considering your smile and attitude this morning”

Rhaena nods vehemently and lets out a giggle, “I gave him good news yesterday regarding the High Septon.”

“I knew you’d do well with that matter!” Marianne lets out a squeal, “Was the prince pleased?”

“Very much so. And frankly, I am too. I had to sacrifice my name day party, but it does not bother me too much.”

“Oh no,” Marianne widens her eyes, “You cannot not throw a party, I was already taking care of the details.”

“We will host the party, though the gifts will be offered to the Faith.”

Marianne rolls her eyes and grimaces, “I imagine the High Septon was delighted to hear the news. I will not allow you to deliver mine to him, though. I will have it delivered to these rooms personally.”

“Thank you, Annie,” she replies with a wide smile, “We will have time to think about the party later. For now, tell me, what do we have pending for this morning?”

“Lady Massey and Lady Dustin wish you to mediate a domestic matter. I do not have the details, but they requested an audience with you.”

Rhaena frowns, “Audience? I thought I was clear about that. I am not the queen, I have no authority to mediate about anything.”

“Well, the Dowager Queen certainly won’t help them. And Queen Ellyn has not made a public appearance since your wedding, so who else would they turn to?”

Rhaena knows the obvious answer is her, but she does not quite like the idea. Even though her position in the castle is one of the highest ranking now that she is a princess, she still feels it is not her duty to act in a position that clearly belongs to someone else.

“Queen Ellyn has not responded to our invitations?”

“No, not even to decline,” Marianne sighs.

“It is strange,” the girl bites her lip, “Do you know if she’s met with any of her ladies?”

“Most of them have returned to their home for the season, the others… I do not think they made much of an effort to look for the queen.”

Rhaena understands what Marianne doesn’t say. Ellyn Baratheon had failed in her duty to produce an heir. She had neither the affection nor the support of the king nor the royal family. The Court and its shifting loyalties had abandoned her as well.

“Perhaps you should write to her personally,” Marianne suggests, “Perhaps that will encourage her to meet with you. Her situation is not ideal, and she must still be mourning her baby. I wish I could have done more to help her, but…”

“You two used to be close?”

“I was not in her inner circle, but she was always kind to me,” she admits and sighs again, “Perhaps I should have done more for her during her convalescence. She surely needed a friend back then, and now resents us for wanting to get close to her.”

“Don’t think that way,” Rhaena reassures her, “Perhaps she just needs a little more space. I will write to her anyway. I do not want her to think I want to take her place or her responsibilities.”

Marianne nods, “In the meantime, will you be meeting with Lady Massey and Lady Dustin?”

Rhaena considers the matter for a moment. While she does not wish to overstep her functions, she finds the idea of ​​exerting her power directly at court, of demonstrating authority over the ladies, exciting. And if she doesn't have many opportunities to do so later, she might as well take advantage of the ones she has now.

“I will send for them immediately and receive them in one of the rooms near the throne room.”

Marianne claps her hands excitedly and they continue to feast on the desserts before leaving the Tower.

When they finally reach the room where the audience will be held, Rhaena is surprised to find both ladies standing at either end of the room, staring at each other with open dislike.

“You said this was about a domestic matter, didn’t you?” she whispers to her friend.

“It is what they mentioned, yes”

The women, along with other courtesans who seem to have come to support Lady Dustin and Massey, bow to her.

“Lady Massey, Lady Dustin,” she greets as she sits down on the chair set up on a platform, “You have requested an audience with me. I am listening.”

Both women begin to speak at the same time, their voices escalating to shrieks that make it impossible to understand any of their words.

“Enough,” Rhaena has to raise her voice as well to make herself heard, “I fear I won’t be able to understand what you are saying if we continue this way. Lady Dustin, you begin.”

The woman, a few years older than Rhaena, smirks at her rival, clearly pleased to be able to speak first, “That woman stole my maid.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Lady Massey, you will have your turn to speak, allow Lady Dustin to continue,” Rhaena rushes to say while trying to keep a neutral expression when she considers it an exaggeration to have requested an audience for such a seemingly trivial matter.

“She stole my maid! My personal maid, I might add, a maid whom I personally trained and who served me for the past two years. Yet, she dared to remove her from my service and take her away, it is unheard of!”

While Rhaena knows that it is not proper or polite in high society to interfere in the matter of servants, much less remove one from the service of another, she is disappointed to have to mediate such a petty matter.

“Lady Massey, I hear you.”

“Princess, I am sorry that you have to waste your time listening to Lady Dustin’s complaints. I never stole a maid from her, the young lady was retired from her service when I decided to take her under my wing. Lady Dustin seems to forget, or prefers to omit, that it was she herself who expelled the maid in question, accusing her of having taken one of her sapphire rings, and then being quite cruel to the girl.”

“And it turned out to be true?”

“The matter of the theft? A mistake on Lady Dustin’s part.”

“Lady Dustin?” Rhaena turns to her, though the red cheeks of her expression are all the answer she needs, “What about you being cruel to your maid?”

“I am simply demanding, Princess, I imagine you know how difficult it is to find capable servants in the capital.”

Rhaena raises her eyebrows at her, “So you want her back in your household despite distrusting her enough to accuse her of taking your personal belongings.”

“It was just a misunderstanding,” the woman gives her a smile that she finds false

“What is her name?”

“Pardon me?” Lady Dustin looks at her blankly

“The young lady in question, your former servant, what is her name?” she asks again

Lady Dustin frowns and opens her mouth again and again, though she does not know how to answer.

“Her name is Asha, Princess,” Lady Massey interjects, “She is a young lady, basically a child, who is much better off in my service than she was in her previous job.”

“What are you implying?” Lady Dustin glares at lady Massey again

“You know very well what I mean.”

“Enough!” Rhaena sighs, “I want to speak with Asha. Lady Massey, send for your maid.”

“Surely that is not necessary, princess,” Lady Dustin interjects.

“It is for me,” she answers simply. As they wait for the maid, Rhaena looks for Marianne, who climbs up to her side, “They do not seem to get along too well.”

“I believe this is not the first time the two ladies have had problems with each other. I heard something about some dresses and the royal dressmaker. Would you like me to find out more about that?”

“Yes, I need to know those kinds of details.”

Marianne returns to her place just as the doors open to admit a rather young maid, who curtsies as she arrives before Rhaena, keeping her gaze on the ground.

“Are you Asha?” she asks. The young woman nods, “You do not need to be afraid, I just want to ask you a few questions.”

Lady Dustin makes a disgruntled noise and mutters under her breath, causing the girl to shudder.

“Out, everyone,” Rhaena orders, “I will listen to Asha and then give my decision.”

“But…” Lady Dustin wants to speak, but Rhaena silences her with a look.

Once they are alone, Rhaena steps down from her seat on the platform and walks over to the maid, who still keeps her gaze on the ground.

“Asha, right?” The girl nods, “I am Lady Rhaena Targaryen.” There is a moment of silence, but the young woman continues to look at the ground. Rhaena sighs and continues, “There is nothing to fear, I only wanted to ask you about your mistress.”

“Lady Massey is a good mistress,” she says quickly.

“Asha, look at me,” she orders in a firm voice. The maid seems to hesitate, and Rhaena wonders if she will have to repeat her order, but then the girl looks up, her brown eyes full of fear resting on hers. But it is her face, with her swollen lip and an ugly cut on her cheek, that draws Rhaena’s attention. “How did you get those wounds?”

“I tripped, ma’am, in the kitchen.”

Rhaena knows she is lying, “I want you to be honest with me, Asha. Did your lady do this to you?”

“No, no, princess, Lady Massey doesn’t hurt me.”

“Who then?” she asks, “You can tell me. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. I will make sure of that.”

“It was… Lady Dustin thought I had taken her ring, but I swear, princess, it wasn’t me. It had just fallen, when I found it… I explained it to her… but…”

“It is okay, I believe you,” Rhaena assures her, taking her hand and squeezing it, “Was that the only time Lady Dustin hit you?”

Asha swallows and doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t need to, her expression tells Rhaena everything she needs.

“How long have you been working here?”

“A couple of years, my lady. My mother… she used to wash dishes in the kitchens. When she died, I was able to take her place.”

“And you like working here?”

“I have food and shelter, ma’am,” she nods, “It’s much better than ending up on the streets.”

Rhaena sighs as she remembers the sad scene on the city streets. A part of her mind wonders what would have become of Asha if she hadn’t been accepted into the castle. She probably would have ended up like the other women on the Street of Silk.

“You do not need to fear, Asha. I will make sure that Lady Dustin does not attack you again.”

“Ma’am, no, I would not want to…”

“It is fine, do not fear,” she repeats, “You will remain in Lady Massey’s service. Just… carry on as normal with your duties and if anything happens, find me, I can help you.”

The girl’s brown eyes look back at her, widening as saucers and visibly holding back tears, “Thank you, ma’am, thank you very much.”

Rhaena offers her a smile before sending her back to her chores, and ushering the other women in.

“I have made a decision,” she says as she stands on the platform, “Asha will remain in Lady Dustin’s service.”

“But, Princess, that is…”

“As for you, Lady Dustin,” she says, looking at the woman, “I suggest you act according to your rank, and remember that the servants work here under our protection, they are not our property to be abused.”

“Are you suggesting I abuse my maids?” the woman, livid, stares at her with wide eyes

Rhaena holds her gaze, “I hope this is the last time something like what I just witnessed happens”

“Nonsense,” Lady Dustin murmurs, “In the North I would never have had to…”

“I do not know how things work in the North,” Rhaena cuts her off, “But if you are so homesick, perhaps it would be best for you to leave Court and return to the North as soon as possible”

Lady Dustin doesn’t respond, just purses her lips and nods, curtsying as Rhaena, followed by Marianne, cross the room.

***

“Wait here.”

The soldier and her maid immediately stop at her command, though Ellyn can see the doubt on both of their faces.

“Your Grace, you cannot go alone.”

“I will not go too far,” she assures, “If I need you, I will call you. Wait here. I want to be alone.”

As the two of them nod, accepting her command, Ellyn sets off down the path into the Royal Forest. Even though it has yet to snow in the capital, the days are getting colder and the bearskin coat she is wearing is not entirely able to protect her from the furious wind that seeps through the trees.

Still, she doesn't dislike the feeling. Fresh air is just what she is looking for, the main reason to escape the suffocating Red Keep, and the pitying glances of her courtiers.

The lake appears before her at the end of the path. Although, unlike other times, she won't be able to enjoy its waters, she walks to the shore and brushes her fingers against the surface, shuddering at the contact, but smiling as she remembers the equally cold waters of Shipbreaker Bay. The comparison with her former home momentarily comforts her heart.

Ellyn finds a rock and sits on its surface, her blue eyes observing the tranquility of the lake for a long time, delighting in the stillness and silence, in the birds that fly through the skies and their low songs.

Until a much larger shadow crosses the royal forest, momentarily surprising her.

Tessarion's roar shatters the peace of the forest, but it soon becomes clear that the dragon poses no danger as she disappears into the trees, oblivious to her presence. Perhaps that is why she does not hear the approaching hooves of a horse until the rider is practically behind her.

“Ellyn?”

Daeron’s voice makes her jump. With a hand on her heart, she turns quickly and watches the prince dismount from his horse and look at her with an expression half curious and half wary.

“Are you following me?”

“Are you here alone?”

They both ask at the same time and neither responds for a few seconds.

“You go first,” Ellyn steps away from the lake’s edge, though she keeps her distance from Daeron, who holds the horse’s reins to a nearby tree.

“Of course, I am not following you. I was as surprised as you were to find you here. Your turn.”

Ellyn sighs, “I am not here alone. My maid and a royal guard stand guard at the start of the path.”

“It is not wise to walk away from them,” Daeron frowns, “You are the queen, someone might want to…”

“Hurt me?” Ellyn finishes, “I doubt it. These are times of peace and this is not the first time I’ve come to this place.”

“Still, I do not like to think of you leaving the castle without proper company. If you feel the need to return here, let me know beforehand and I will accompany you.”

“Yes, perhaps next time you and Lady Westerling could keep me company.”

The prince’s cheeks flush at her words. “Ellyn, I…”

“Congratulations, by the way, on the betrothal,” the young queen looks down at her rings, fiddling with them for a moment, “Lady Marianne is a very…”

“Let us not speak of her. Please,” Daeron’s voice suddenly sounds very close, and when she looks up, she realizes that the prince has closed the distance between them until he is only a few steps away.

“Why not?” She asks, trying to sound firm, though her voice is more of a whisper.

“You know why,” Daeron’s voice is a whisper as well, and as he takes a step closer to her, his scent fills her senses, causing her to close her eyes for a moment, her mind recalling dimly lit halls, masquerades, and subtle caresses offered during balls.

But it is when his hand rests on her cheek, the contrast of his warm skin against her cool one, that she’s aware of the moment, and she quickly backs away, “No, Daeron, no. This isn’t right.”

“Ellyn…”

“Don’t say my name like that,” she cuts him off, turning her face away for a moment before facing him again, her heart clenching at the sight of the pain on the prince’s face, “I am your brother’s wife.”

“He does not make you happy.”

“As if that matters,” she retorts sarcastically, “Besides, you are getting married.”

“A betrothal I only agreed to because I cannot have the one woman I truly want.”

Ellyn shudders and bites her bottom lip hard, but just shakes her head in denial.

“I do not know… I do not know what I did to make you think this… is mutual, I am sorry if I gave you that impression,” she cannot look at him. She does not want to look at the pain she knows she is causing him, because if she looks at him, she knows Daeron will realize she is lying. That she wishes she could just forget everything and be guided by her feelings, but they can’t, “I must return to the castle. And you should do the same.”

The prince doesn't answer, and though a part of her, the one that makes her heart pound every time she sees Daeron, wishes he would say or do something more, she chooses to listen to reason and walk down the path without looking back.

***

Rhaena watches the dragon fire scorch the meat and her dragon eagerly launch herself into devouring the huge chunks.

“She’s grown quite a bit since I last saw her.”

Aemond’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Rhaena looks away from her dragon, and watches the prince walk over to sit beside her on the couch in her private drawing room.

“Yes, the cage she came from the Vale in won’t hold her much longer.”

“Mmm,” Aemond glances at the dragon before turning his study back to his wife, “She hurt you again.”

“It is nothing to worry about,” Rhaena is quick to shrug, though the movement causes her pain as Morning had been coiled around her neck until not long ago.

The prince doesn’t answer, but his long fingers brush over the small wounds caused by the horns and claws, frowning and clearly showing his annoyance in his expression, although he doesn’t dare to voice his opinion out loud so as not to upset Rhaena.

“I heard you had an interesting afternoon.”

“Oh yes,” she nods, pleased with the change of subject, “Two ladies of the court came to me to mediate their problem. The matter itself wasn’t too interesting, but I ended up finding out that Lady Dustin was beating one of her maids, which outraged me and made me think that we should put more interest in that subject, don’t you agree?”

“What subject specifically?” Aemond raises his eyebrows.

“To take better care of the servants who work here,” Rhaena rolls her eyes, “They do not deserve to be treated so cruelly. I was clear with Lady Dustin on that matter.”

Aemond smirks and nods, “She probably was not pleased.”

“Of course not, but it is not really relevant what she thinks. It is not right to abuse our power,” she replies firmly, “I’d like to make sure that nothing similar is happening with the other ladies of the court. Would you mind if I took it upon myself to find out?”

“Not at all. It is within your duties, you don’t need my permission to do so.”

Rhaena smiles, feeling inwardly pleased and relieved by his words. The urge to close the few inches between them and hug him grows within her, but she controls herself. Even though they spend their nights together, it is much easier to simply dare to physically show their affection when they are in the darkness of his room.

“What about you? How was your day ruling the kingdom?” Aemond seems to hesitate for a moment, his gaze darkening, “Did something happen?”

“No, not really. Or I don’t know,” he finally replies, “Reports keep coming in of a group of bandits committing crimes on the Kingsroad.”

“What kind of crimes?”

“Robberies, mostly against nobles. They started out as simple muggings, but lately they have been getting more violent.”

“And the noble lords haven’t been able to catch them yet?”

“Apparently they don’t stay in one place for too long,” Aemond frowns, “Either that or there are different groups in different parts of the kingdom, though I doubt it.”

“But it is nothing to worry about, right? With winter coming, the people often resort to desperate measures to stock up and not go hungry. Something similar used to happen in the Vale. The mountain clans would attack the nobles all the time, I remember Corwyn mentioning…”

Rhaena cuts herself off abruptly, her cheeks flushing at the mention of her old friend. Feeling the prince’s scrutiny on her, she sighs, “I am sorry, I spoke without thinking and… I know you don’t like me mentioning him.”

Aemond doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at her, moving closer to Rhaena and placing his hand on her neck, his fingers encircling the butterfly pendant he bought for her in Flea Bottom. “Corwyn Corbray is but a shadow of the past, his name is inconsequential,” he answers in that low, whisper-like tone of his. And though there is no hint of annoyance in his voice, his good eye scans Rhaena’s expression and there is possession in his words when he says, “You are my wife now, that is all that counts.”

“Indeed,” Rhaena answers with a small sigh. The prince makes a small noise of approval and his hand moves up to her cheek, caressing it with the pads of his fingers, “I was just… comparing the situations because it does not seem like anything out of the ordinary that there are robberies on the Kingsroad.”

“Maybe not,” he admits, “Though something tells me it could be something more. I will probably have to make inquires as soon as possible.”

Rhaena gulps as she understands the implications of his words, “Surely you are not planning to personally go after those bandits?”

“Why not?”

“Just because,” she frowns, “We are barely married, you cannot just go looking for criminals. Something could… could happen to you.”

Aemond smirks, “Worried about me?” His fingers brush the corner of her lips, “I thought you wanted to be a young widow.”

Rhaena rolls her eyes, though a smile forms on her lips as well, “I never said that. You assumed,” she retorts, adding, “Send someone you trust. Ser Criston, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Aemond nods, “I had thought of Daeron, but my brother wouldn’t be much help with his dragon in this occasion, and I wouldn’t dare send him without Tessarion. As for Ser Criston…”

“You do not trust him?”

“Of course I trust him,” Aemond quickly states, “But I need him here to protect the city.”

“Well, I think Cole would be the perfect candidate for this mission, besides…” Rhaena ventures closer to Aemond, her knees brushing against the prince’s legs, “Perhaps without ser Criston in the city, I can finally wake up without the sight of an empty bed.”

The insinuation doesn’t go unnoticed by Aemond, and though Rhaena’s cheeks are tinted with an annoying blush, she holds his gaze and giggles when the prince’s hands settle on her waist, pulling her towards him and placing her on his lap.

“Is that your way of telling me that you would like me to abandon my morning training to stay with you in bed?”

“Surely your old master has already taught you everything he knows.”

“Mmm,” Aemond’s smirk causes a fire to flare in her lower belly, “You are probably right. The problem is,” he says as he kisses the exposed skin of her chest, “I’d be too tempted to not leave the room if I allowed myself to wait for you to wake up. And then the kingdom would suffer without its ruler.”

“I think the kingdom will be fine if its prince takes a few days to spoil his wife,” she replies, encouraged by his touch.

Rhaena feels him smile against her neck, and as his hands cup her face, she closes her eyes at the feel of Aemond’s kiss. The prince’s lips capture hers in a fervent kiss. Rhaena moans against his lips, and as Aemond’s fingers begin to work at the lacing of her corset, they are suddenly interrupted by a servant.

“I am sorry, Prince Aemond, but it’s urgent.”

Aemond growls, clearly angry, and helps Rhaena sit beside him before looking at the servant, who doesn’t dare look at the prince.

“What is it?”

“The queen dowager sent for you urgently. She wants you to meet her in the king’s chambers.”

Rhaena, who has been re-lacing her corset, looks up at Aemond. The prince looks at her with the same confusion that her face surely reflects, although there is something else, a sense of alarm, of fear, that makes the girl’s heart race.

The servant bows and leaves the small room. Aemond does not move immediately, his gaze resting on the fireplace, as if he needs a moment to himself.

“I will return as soon as possible,” he says, finally standing.

“Aemond,” Rhaena stands as well. He looks at her and she takes his hand, briefly linking it with hers, “I hope all is well.”

He nods and leaves the room.

Thanks for reading :)

Next chapter on tuesday :)

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Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“The prince requires your presence in his chambers as soon as possible, princess.”

Rhaena looks up from the book she is reading and glances at the maid, who is watching Morning warily from her place in the doorway. Before she can ask if she knows the reason why Aemond has called her so suddenly, the maid curtsies hastily and leaves.

Suddenly feeling anxious, she climbs out of bed and pulls her velvet robe over her long nightgown. Has something happened? Has Baela already started to put her plan into motion? Is that why she had married so quickly? Her heart flutters as she walks the few meters to the prince’s chambers, which she enters unannounced, as the guard immediately opens the door.

“Aemond? Is everything all right? Did…?”

Her words stop when she sees her cousin sitting on the edge of the bed, covered only by a white linen towel tied around his waist. His bare torso is beaded with a couple of droplets, as if he had recently stepped out of the tub. Which, judging by the aroma that fills the room, seems to be the case. Rhaena’s eyes scan his torso eagerly, her heart fluttering again, although this time for an entirely different reason.

“I want you to spend the night here,” Aemond’s voice reaches her almost as a whisper.

When she understands the meaning of his words, she swallows. Spend the night with him? It hadn’t occurred to her that this was the reason for his call, practically accustomed to spending her nights alone.

Her violet eyes open wide as she looks at the prince again, the defined muscles of his arms and shoulders, his broad back and narrow waist. His hair like two silky silver curtains that frame his face. When the prince stands up, a whiff of his masculine perfume reaches her, disturbing her and filling her body with desire. Holding back a moan, Rhaena takes a couple of steps back and lowers her gaze, not wanting him to notice how excited she is.

As she does so, her eyes fall on her robe, which suddenly feels dull. Why hadn’t she worn anything more striking before coming here? And the nightgown beneath it. White and plain. Not a hint of the lace and silk he usually sees her in. Then there was the matter of the bath. She’d taken one this morning, but was it enough? Tired as she was, she’d only washed before putting on her robe. Did she smell nice? She hadn’t applied her usual oils to her curls, either. What if Aemond found her appearance lacking and lost interest in her? The thought makes her mouth dry, and feeling anxious, she rubs her clammy hands over the robe.

“Rhaena?”

It’s not until the third time he calls her name that she reacts.

“Yes?” she asks, finally snapping out of her thoughts and looking up at him.

“You seem… scared,” Aemond frowns and purses his lips into a thin line, “You dislike the idea of ​​being my company tonight.”

It takes Rhaena a few seconds to register his words. “No, no, of course…”

“Don’t go on, you do not need to explain yourself,” he cuts her off, “Go back to your chambers.”

Go back to your chambers.

Her suspicions from a few seconds ago come back to eat at her, stoking her fear.

“Aemond, I…”

“Go back to your chambers,” his voice is an order this time, “I will not force my presence on you.”

“But I am your wife.”

The prince chuckles gracelessly, his cold gaze glaring at her. There is something else though. Something she cannot fathom.

“I do not understand,” she says, still not moving, “You called me here. You wanted me to spend the night here. With you.”

“And you clearly have no desire for it to be so.”

It is the bitterness in his voice and the grimace of sadness that so suddenly crosses his face that encourages her to speak.

“What makes you think that?”

“Rhaena. Go away. I have no patience to…”

“No.” This time she cuts him off, “You cannot simply throw me out of your room.”

“Yes, I can. I am your husband.”

“It does not work like that,” she shakes her head, taking a tentative step towards him, “Not with me.”

Aemond glares at her again, but Rhaena holds the eye contact as she feels her anxiety being replaced by something else. By rage. By the pent-up anger of all these weeks of indifference.

“I have been patient. All my life I have been patient. And I have been patient with you, but no more. You are not going to play games with me, Aemond. We had a deal. We were going to try to be…” Rhaena measures her words, “We were going to try to enjoy this marriage.”

“Enjoy?” he replies sarcastically, his gaze hardening, “Do not try to sweeten me with your words now. You do not need to pretend that you are excited about sharing my bed.”

“I do not pretend, not with you,” she retorts. And she takes a breath before continuing, trying to be brave. Trying to put into words what she feels, even if it means baring her heart to him, “I have been waiting for you to call me back to your chambers. Eager and ready to be your wife again. I have been alone for over a month, waiting. And when you finally do, you discard me in mere minutes? As if… as if I meant nothing?” Her voice breaks and Aemond’s gaze falls on her. Even though her cheeks flush, and she feels her eyes sting, she cannot remain silent. Not now. “Am I not what you expected? Is that it? Was I a disappointment? I know I am not as experienced as the women you met before, but I thought we were getting to know each other. Maybe I was naive to think I could replace their memory in your bed and…”

He doesn’t let her continue. Crossing the distance between them in two long strides, he puts his arms around her, holding her close to his body, “What you say is absurd.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” he replies, almost like a growl, “How can you even think of comparing yourself to them? They are nothing.”

“And what am I?”

“You are my wife,” he replies possessively.

“A wife who spent night after night alone. Knowing no reason for your coldness, for your indifference. None other than your past. And it made perfect sense to assume that was why you didn’t call me anymore.”

“Ridiculous.”

Aemond replies with such confidence, that Rhaena feels even more emboldened because of it. And that is why she dares to place her hand on his chest, slowly caressing his smooth skin until she rests it on his heart, which is beating as fast as her own. The discovery gives her satisfaction.

Rhaena says his name softly before replacing her hand with his lips, kissing the skin over his heart, “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

There is a beat of silence before he answers.

“Did you want me to?”

“I did,” Rhaena raises her gaze to Aemond, “Why don’t you believe me?”

The prince looks away and wets his lips with his tongue. His fingers, still encircling her, dig into her skin. The gesture doesn’t hurt her, but it lets her know that he is nervous. That he clearly does not want to admit the answer to her question.

Rhaena wants to push. But she knows is better not to. And, right now, she doesn’t need any more answers. She just needs him. And, if he doesn’t believe her, she’ll convince him that she wants him too.

“I want to spend the night with you, Aemond. I want to stay here with my husband. With you.”

Rhaena's lips move up his collarbone to his neck, leaving small, wet kisses before rubbing her nose on his skin to breathe in his scent. The prince shivers under her caresses and Rhaena places her hands on his back, caressing the length of him, wanting to trace every muscle with her fingers.

Aemond's hands leave her waist to untie the knot of the robe, freeing her from the heavy garment before pulling her back towards him, pressing their bodies together in such a way that she can clearly feel the bulge of his arousal against her stomach.

Still full of courage and desire, she unties the knot of the towel, letting it fall at the prince's feet. Aemond says something unintelligible and Rhaena, instinctively, places her hand on Aemond's cock, stroking it up and down as she had seen him do before. Only he lets out a curse and, frightened, pulls her hand away.

“I am sorry,” he says quickly, “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to…”

“No,” he almost growls, taking her hand and placing it back on his cock, “You didn’t hurt me, it’s just…” Aemond closes his good eye as Rhaena wraps her hand around it again, squeezing the length of it, familiarizing herself with its shape and caressing the veins that pulse under her touch, “Rhaena…”

He is unable to say anything coherent. She seems to understand that her touch does not bother him, so she continues with her action, feeling his cock harden under her hand and grow even more. Rhaena swallows when a few drops wet the tip and…

“Enough,” Aemond gasps, one hand over Rhaena’ while the other holds her by the chin. “Bed. Now.”

She nods quickly and allows the prince to take her in his arms, carrying her to the edge of the bed, where he sits and places her astride him. Their faces are at the same height and their sexes are so close that she cannot help but rub against him, needing the contact. Aemond smirks as he tangles his hands in her hair, tilting her face so that he can attack her neck with his lips, sucking on the sensitive skin and surely marking her.

Rhaena's moans begin to fill the stillness of the room and the prince places his hands under her robe, slowly lifting the fabric. Rhaena's body tenses as she understands what he wants to do. Aemond, sensing her nervousness, pulls his lips away from her neck and meets her gaze. Rhaena holds eye contact for a moment, blushing. She hasn't been naked in front of him yet. He hadn't removed her nightgown the previous times. The prospect fills her with shame, but seeing the anticipation in the prince's gaze, his chest rising and falling, his skin burning with desire, is enough to push her fears aside. Nodding slightly, she raises her hands for Aemond to remove the garment.

Once the prince discards the nightgown somewhere in the room, he is quick to kiss her. His thin lips capture hers in a desperate kiss, full of hunger and desire. It isn't until Rhaena allows their tongues to merge that she realizes how much she's missed Aemond's kisses.

“I missed this,” she is heard saying as they part for air.

Her words seem to awaken something in the prince, who pulls her even closer to his body, causing her breasts to rub against his torso. Rhaena’s nipples harden and Aemond’s hands move down her back, caressing her waist and thighs before kissing her again, nibbling on her lips.

Their bodies align in such a way that Rhaena ends up rubbing herself on his cock, her wet sex sliding easily over the prince’s length, who gasps in pleasure. Aemond takes her by the waist and, lifting her, positions her on top of him. Rhaena swallows as she slowly sinks into him. The sensation is similar and at the same time completely different from what she has experienced.

“Is it too much?” the prince asks when she stops, a grimace of pain on her face.

“Yes,” she gasps, “But I am fine,” she assures before continuing to sink into him, feeling her insides being stretched by his member as a pang of pain runs through her intimacy.

Aemond squeezes her waist and tries to remain still until she finally takes him completely. They both gasp at feeling completely joined and he kisses her, wanting to distract her. It seems to work because Rhaena responds to the contact eagerly, placing her hands on his chest as she instinctively moves on top of him.

The prince lets out a grunt of pleasure and helps her move up and down. Rhaena closes her eyes and, still clinging to his chest, impales herself on him again and again, marveling at the pleasure that is growing inside her, at how full she feels and at the way Aemond’s cock seems to rub against something inside her that promises to bring her to ecstasy.

Aemond arches Rhaena’s back and kisses her breasts, sucking on one nipple while teasing the other. The girl begins to move faster and it doesn’t take long before the bubble of pleasure bursts inside her. Hearing her scream his name as she cums on him, the prince thrusts hard into her and spills inside her a minute later.

“Rhaena”

Her name sounds almost like a prayer on his lips. Rhaena, who has had her eyes closed, still invaded by the sensation of bliss, opens them to find him looking at her with an intensity that makes her blush. They both look at each other for a moment longer, their breathing normalizing.

“Are you okay?”

She just nods, unable to say more.

After a moment more of just watching each other, she realizes they are still joined, so on shaky legs she pulls out of him. As she moves to her knees beside him, she feels his seed sliding down her thighs. Aemond follows her gaze and without much thought, takes the liquid between his fingers and slides it back between her legs. Rhaena shivers as she feels his fingers brushing her sex, which is still very sensitive from their encounter.

“Lie down.”

Rhaena settles herself on the bed and watches him stand up, walk over to the washbowl and wet a rag with water before returning to her side.

“Let me,” he asks before wiping her thighs with the rag.

Rhaena feels her heart fill with an inexplicable feeling as he pushes the rag aside and lays down on the bed beside her, pulling the covers over them.

“Thank you,” she whispers as she tries to find a comfortable position.

She wants to move closer to him. She wants to lie on his chest and wrap her arms around him. But she doesn’t dare. So, she settles for clasping their hands together and looking at him.

He imitates her, lacing their fingers together and turning on his side, watching her intently in the silence of the room. Rhaena’s eyes grow heavier and heavier, and when Aemond brings her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles, she smiles contentedly and drifts off to sleep.

Before she falls asleep, however, she thinks she hears him say, “I missed this, too.”

***

“Lady Rhaena, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Lord Lannister,” she gives the man a charming smile as she enters his study, a room close to the royal council chamber, “I was hoping you could spare me a few minutes of your time.”

“Of course,” Lannister stands up with some difficulty and waits for Rhaena to take a seat in front of him before returning to his chair.

“I do not know if you are aware that Prince Aemond left me in charge of recovering some Crown lands ceded to the Faith.”

“I heard about that,” he nods, his curious green eyes settling on her

“I have a proposal that I think might satisfy the High Septon, and convince him to return the lands, but I would not like to present it to him without first making sure that I will not cause loss to the Crown.”

“A sensible action on your part.”

“That is why I need your help,” Rhaena clasps her hands together, suddenly nervous at the prospect that Lannister might dismiss her idea. Or find it ridiculous, “I heard that the High Septon plans to build seven septs in important cities for the realm. I thought he could be exempted from building taxes as an incentive. I know… I know it is not something that is usually done,” she says quickly and clears her throat before continuing, “I hope I am not mistaken, I am not an expert in accounts and numbers, but in general it seemed to me that it would not be too much of a loss for the realm. I do not know if I am right.”

Rhaena blushes and looks down for a few moments. Lord Lannister observes her with greater curiosity before extracting some scrolls from a heavy chest near him, “Let us verify.”

Without questioning her idea further, Tyland Lannister spends the next few minutes explaining to Rhaena the system of building taxes in the realm.

“Of course, each feudal lord has his own taxes,” he says, frowning, “But it wouldn’t be difficult to get the Faith exonerated if the order came from the king. Do you know which lands the High Septon plans to build the septs on?”

“No, not yet,” she bites her lip, shaking her head, “But I am friends with several noble lords, surely I could contact them if it becomes necessary.”

“We will take care of that later.”

Lannister does the math, and Rhaena watches him curiously, waiting for the verdict.

“I think it would work,” he finally replies, “The Crown would recover the exonerated taxes with the proceeds of one harvest from the lands they seek to recover.”

“Just with one harvest?” she asks, confused, “It would surely take a little longer.”

“We are talking about highly productive lands, Lady Rhaena, hence it is of vital importance that the Crown regain possession of them.”

His words add more pressure to the one she already feels. She knew Aemond had wanted to make her feel better after the matter with her twin, but she had no idea that her mission could represent significant losses for the kingdom if not deal properly.

"I assure you, Lord Lannister, that I take my task with the seriousness it deserves. I will do my best to see that the realm regains those lands.”

“I do not doubt it, my lady.”

For a few more minutes, they discuss the crown lands. Rhaena asks him to show her the exact location, and Lord Lannister helps her with the information she needs.

“I do not understand why give them up in the first place,” she sighs, “They are located in a strategic storage point. Surely my uncle understood this as well as I did.”

“It was shortly after Queen Aemma’s death,” Lord Tyland answers as if that settled the matter.

Rhaena just nods, “I thank you, Lord Lannister, for your assistance. I hope I have not interrupted your work too much.”

“On the contrary, your presence was most welcome,” he says, offering his hand to stand, “I wish you the best of luck on your mission, Lady Rhaena.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

There is a moment of hesitation on Lord Tyland’s part, who looks at her as if he is debating internally whether to say something. Rhaena remains silent, allowing him to escort her to the door. As she is about to leave, Lord Tyland seems to decide to speak.

“If I may, Lady Rhaena, I wanted to thank you for your attentions to my niece.”

“You have nothing to thank,” she says, surprised by the comment, but smiling, “Marianne is a very dear friend.”

“She is a good girl. She may not be my niece by blood, but I care deeply for her and her well-being. I have grown accustomed to her presence these past few years. I don’t know if you know this, but Marianne looked after me during my convalescence after the war.”

Rhaena does not respond immediately, considering Lannister’s words. She knew that the Master of Coin had been tortured by Rhaenyra and her subjects during the time they had remained in King’s Landing, venting on Lord Tyland the pent-up rage over the death of the princes and the disappearance of the royal treasure. Although Lannister seemed more recovered now, Rhaena had noticed his slowness in walking and had seen him leaning on a cane a few times.

“I know she is happy with her betrothal to Prince Daeron. And I am glad to see her happy.”

“As I am, I assure you,” she finally replies, squeezing the man’s arm with her free hand.

“My niece can be very naive at times, but she is loyal.” Lord Tyland doesn’t need to voice his request out loud, his wish for Rhaena to take care of her, especially now that she holds a higher position in the kingdom. “Loyalty is not something that is easily found.”

“I agree with that.”

Rhaena says no more, only bidding Lannister farewell with a nod.

***

“It seems to me, High Septon, that I am being quite reasonable with my request.”

The priest wipes his wine mustache with a napkin before smiling at her. It has not cost her much to arrange a meeting with the man or to sweeten him with polite words while offering him cakes and good wine.

“Lady Rhaena, you know that I appreciate you, but my main duty is to the Faith and the gods.”

“Of course.”

“Then you will understand that I must refuse your offer. The lands you speak of were a gift from the late king. I could not…”

“Return them to the current king?” she finishes for him, sipping her wine as well, “The Crown needs those lands. With winter so close, surely a man as pious as you will understand that we must use them to make the most of their resources and distribute them among the congregation of the kingdom.”

“That is a noble task, of course,” he admits, “One that the Faith can also accomplish.”

“Surely,” Rhaena smiles at him, “But the Faith should focus on opening the hearts of the common people to the gods. And it can do that with the septs I know you wish to build.”

“I plan to build one right on those lands.”

“Or you could build many more elsewhere in the kingdom without having to pay the taxes that come with it.”

There is a moment of silence before the septon speaks again, though his lively eyes rest on her. “Is that possible?”

“It is. The Faith can build seven more septs without paying anything to the Crown.”

“We are talking about a considerable sum, my lady.”

“A sum for which you could surely find another equally… suitable purpose.”

Rhaena smiles sweetly at him. The High Septon seems to be pondering her words, and the girl can swear that he is internally delighting in the possibilities of getting his hands on that money. She knows the religious man’s appetites well.

“If the lands return to the Crown, you could build your sept near the Stokeworth lands. The lady of the castle is very pious, she would be more than happy to serve you properly during the construction period. Surely you have tried her famous cakes?”

“A delight. A real delight,” he replies as he takes one of the tarts in front of him.

“I think the deal would be more than ideal,” she continues, “I know it would be… inconvenient for you to change your plans right now. But my name day is coming up and I plan to throw a party,” Rhaena stares at him, “I have no need for so many jewels and gifts, surely the Faith would appreciate them after gifting me the land exchange.”

The idea seems to amaze the High Septon, who does little to try to hide his excitement at the proposal.

“Very well, Lady Rhaena, you win,” he finally replies, “The lands will return to the Crown’s control if you assure me that we can build the septs without… er… needing to contribute taxes.”

“Of course.”

“And about your name day…”

“I will personally send the gifts as donations to the Sept.”

“If that is your will, my lady, surely the Gods will know how to reward you,” the man replies, pleased, “Let it be all for them.”

Rhaena simply smiles at him and continues to converse with the man, though it is mostly the Septon who does all the talking and talking for a long time. Still, she gives him her full attention until she sees fit to excuse himself.

As she rides the carriage back to the castle, she can't help but feel contradictorily relieved and anxious at the same time. Though she savors her triumph and can't wait to share the news of her success with Aemond, she feels the pressure of having been able to ruin everything. What would have happened if she hadn't been able to convince the High Septon? The prince had trusted her. And Rhaena wants him to continue to do so. Just as she has managed to have his company again in her nights, she wants him to be able to continue to consider her his support, his equal.

And there is something else. She wants to be able to contribute. To be of help not only to her husband, but to the kingdom. To do more than her duties as a simple wife who spends her days embroidering or painting. There is something too exciting about being able to make decisions, to be involved in matters that can make a difference. To be truly important. And Rhaena does not want to stop experiencing that feeling.

With that idea in mind, she gets out of the carriage and heads immediately to the Tower of the Hand. It is already dark and she knows that he is waiting for her. He has called her to his chambers without fail for the last week. And not once has he pressed her for news about the matter with the Faith. But now that she has something positive to share, she hurries up the steps of the tower, eager to see Aemond's pleased expression upon receiving the news. Eager to please him and to be in his arms again.

In wonder, she realizes as a smile naturally appears on her lips, that she feels happy for the first time to be in King's Landing.

Thanks for reading :)

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Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I must say, I have missed your company, Princess Rhaena.”

“The feeling is mutual, my lady,” Lady Redwyne seems pleased with the reply, her smile spreading across her elderly face before she sips from her wine goblet. “I would have liked to meet you sooner, but my new duties take up most of my day.”

“Oh yes, I hear you have been visiting the city and frequenting the Flea Bottom.”

“Do you disapprove of my acts of charity to the poor?” she asks after observing the older woman’s expression.

“I think it is a bit much for a noble lady to have to do them herself,” she nods vehemently, “Surely you could limit yourself to ordering that the common people be properly cared for.”

Rhaena hides her smile as she sips from her own goblet, “I prefer to go myself and see that help reaches where it is needed. Besides, I like doing it. It makes me feel…” the girl cuts her words off quickly. Better to measure her words. While she does not distrust Lady Redwyne, it is preferable not to give too much of herself to the Courtiers, “I like to spend time with orphaned children. And I only follow the example of the Dowager Queen.”

“Mmm,” Lady Redwyne smirks, “I remember Queen Alicent when she was first married. A young girl with her head in the right place. Yes, I imagine she will be pleased that you follow in her footsteps. For as long as it is possible for you, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“That once you have children, Princess, you will not have as much free time as you do now,” the old woman lets out a giggle, “I hope we have news on that matter soon. I would not want to go to meet the Stranger without having met the royal heir.”

Lady Redwyne’s words, though well-intentioned, leave a bitter feeling inside her. It has been weeks since Aemond has required her presence in his room. The few times they see each other in the Tower are usually just short seconds of awkward interactions. And, if she had any hopes of being with child after their wedding night, they had vanished a few days ago after she woke up to find droplets of blood on the sheets.

“The gods will surely grant us the delight of having you with us for many more years, my lady,” she replies politely.

“Not if the winter continues like this,” the old woman complains, demanding more wine from the maid, “My bones cannot bear it…”

Rhaena tunes out of the conversation.

With each passing day it is impossible not to feel more like a failure. Though she often told herself that she shouldn't have expected to maintain a close relationship with her husband, that it was unrealistic; that dreamy, idealistic part of her still held out hope that the prince would care a little more for her. That he would seek her company, whatever the form.

You are better off this way, she tells herself. Remember the promise you made to your sister.

Rhaena tries to think about the promise every day. Not just out of loyalty to her sister, but because she must remind herself that whatever she feels towards the prince, it is clearly not reciprocated. Aemond only sees her as a means to an end. Nothing more.

And maybe not even that.

If he doesn't seek her to produce an heir and doesn't want her as a companion, what purpose does she really serve? It is ridiculous to entertain such thoughts, she knows. She herself had reminded the prince that she was needed. That only she would give future children the legitimacy they need. Still... negative thoughts could resonate loudly in her mind from time to time. Perhaps, because of that, she has clung to her new duties with determination. Only then does she feel useful and feels that she contributes in some way.

“Where is Lady Westerling, by the way?”

The question brings her out of her thoughts, “Walking around the gardens, with my cousin Daeron.”

The betrothal, which had been announced a few days ago, had been received with approval by the Court. Supported by Marianne's father, they had begun to make wedding plans, although they would not take place until the weather improved.

Her friend was overjoyed and Rhaena was happy for her. Besides, unlike his older brother, Daeron sought out his future wife's company more often, and showered her with attention.

Lady Redwyne and the other women gathered there begin to talk about the wedding, and Rhaena tries to participate as much as she can before excusing herself and returning to the Tower.

A burning smell greets her as she enters her chambers, followed by screams from women. Confused, Rhaena moves quickly until she reaches her private chambers, where two maids are hugging each other and crying.

“What is happening?”

Rhaena looks from the women to the other end of the room, where a furious Morning struggles to get out of her cage while throwing out flames of dragon fire.

“Prince… princess…” one of the maids whimpers, “We just… we just wanted…”

Morning growls again and Rhaena sighs. Judging by the trays of raw meat lying at the maids’ feet, they had tried to reach out to feed her dragon. To no avail.

“Leave the food for Morning?”

Both of them nod. Rhaena approaches the tray, and when the women realize what she is trying to do, they snap out of their stupor and quickly pick up the meat.

“I will do it, you may leave,” she orders.

They look terribly relieved when they are finally able to leave the room.

When the door finally closes, the dragon stops growling and Rhaena slowly approaches her, comforting her with phrases in High Valyrian.

“I imagine you are lonely here too,” she whispers after letting her out of her cage, “But you should not be so harsh on the maids.”

Morning sniffs at the meat and scorches it with her fire before taking bites.

As Rhaena watches her feed, she notices how large she is. The cage, increasingly limiting for her, is not helping Morning cooperate.

“I will take some time to get you out of this room, I promise,” she says, “So you can fly free and…”

The dragon moves closer to her neck, and Rhaena suppresses a wince. Morning’s growing horns scrape her neck as she playfully tries to nuzzle her. Her weight continues to bother her as well, but she endures the sensation for several minutes until a draft of cold air blows through the open window, causing the dragon to fly into the fireplace, curling up next to the fire and growling again.

Sighing, she goes to the window, closing and locking it before leaving the room and going in search of the guards, whom she finds at the entrance to the Tower.

“I am going to give you some instructions that you must follow from now on.”

“Yes, princess.”

“No one, not even the maids, is to enter my private chamber if I am not present.”

“As you command, princess.”

“I need you to be vigilant about that,” she presses, “I do not want my dragon disturbed. If the maids need to clean, they will have to wait until I am present to do so and if…”

Rhaena stops talking as the guards bow, looking at someone behind her. When she turns, she is met by the tall figure of Aemond, who is looking at her with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Was I clear?” Rhaena ignores his question and looks back at the guards, who nod instantly, “Good.”

“Rhaena,” her name is spoken with his usual impatience.

“Cousin,” she greets, facing him again. Aemond raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer to his question. Rhaena bites the inside of her lip and simply holds his gaze for a few seconds, saying nothing.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing. I was just giving the guards some instructions.”

“Regarding what?” The prince’s expression suddenly changes as he takes a few steps to her side, “Why are you bleeding?”

“I am not…” Rhaena is cut off when Aemond raises his hand and takes her by the chin, gently tilting her face to the side and exposing her neck.

“What happened?” Aemond’s tone of voice is low, but it conveys his obvious anger. His good eye flicks from her to the guards before returning to Rhaena, “I want to know what happened to you.”

“It is nothing, just a small cut,” she replies as she steps back, breaking free from his touch.

“Tell me what happened,” he demands and then says, “Call the maester. Have him come immediately.”

“Do not call him,” she orders in turn. The guard, who had started to move, stops, “There is no need to bother the maester over a trifle.”

“Let him judge that,” Aemond replies.

“Aemond,” Rhaena tries to sound as authoritative as he is, “I am fine. It is nothing. I can take of this for myself.”

The prince meets her gaze upon hearing it, and his expression -a mix of annoyance and concern that causes Rhaena’s heart to race for a moment- finally seems to relent. He nods and then says, “Come with me.”

Rhaena berates herself for feeling that glimmer of hope at his words. She doesn’t want to feel so eager to follow him, to stay a moment by his side, but she can’t help herself. So, she follows him to the room where he usually takes care of his daily chores.

“How did you get that cut?” he asks as soon as they are alone

“It was Morning,” she replies with a sigh, “She didn’t mean to do it, she is just growing and getting stronger. She probably didn’t notice that she hurt me. I didn’t even notice.”

Aemond makes a grimace with his lips as he listens to her. Rhaena goes to say something else, but he reaches for his doublet, where he pulls out a handkerchief that he holds out in her direction.

“Thank you,” Rhaena takes it in her hands and, before putting it around her neck, she looks at his initials on it. It is one of the ones she embroidered for him. The idea of ​​him wearing them, perhaps daily, brings an involuntary little smile to her lips.

“Does your dragon have anything to do with you giving instructions to the guards?”

“Yes,” she nods as she wipes her collar with the soft linen, applying pressure, “The maids are afraid to get close to Morning, and she doesn’t seem to like the maids either. I found them screaming in a corner of my room, totally terrified of my dragon, although she remained in her cage”

“I can bring new maids, if you prefer”

“No, no, it is not necessary,” she replies quickly while removing the handkerchief, fleetingly observing the drops of blood on it, “It would not be fair to the ones we have. They just… I know it can be complicated, not everyone can get close to a dragon”

“So that is why you ordered the guards…”

“Not to let anyone into my chambers unless I am present,” Rhaena finishes, “I don’t want them to disturb Morning.”

“Mmm,” Aemond purses his lips once more and stares at her intently.

Rhaena knows her cousin has an opinion when it comes to her dragon’s presence in the Tower, so she challenges him with her gaze, wanting to know if he’s going to voice it again despite knowing the princess’s position on the matter.

“And I assume you will feed her yourself in the meantime?”

“I will.”

“You will be going back and forth to the Tower several times a day?” he asks sarcastically, “Don’t you think it would be easier…?”

“I don’t mind doing so,” she points out.

Aemond looks like he wants to push for a moment, but ultimately just sighs, “Very well, if that is what you prefer.”

Rhaena nods and an awkward silence stretches between them for a moment.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“I work and live here,” the prince replies, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, what are you doing back in the Tower at this hour?” she explains, “The sun is still shining in the sky. You don’t usually return until well into the evening.” Her words, which she tries to express in an ordinary tone, contain a hint of reproach.

Aemond feels a pang of guilt inside him, but he suppresses it and pulls a piece of parchment from his doublet pocket, “We received a letter from Driftmark.”

“From my sister?”

Rhaena takes a few steps towards him with her hand outstretched, Aemond hands her the scroll, the seal already broken, “Why didn’t I receive it directly?”

“Because it is not addressed to you.”

Rhaena frowns and opens the scroll, quickly reading the message. Aemond was right. The letter had been addressed to the Royal Council informing them that…

“My sister is already married to Allyn.”

The news takes her by surprise more than she expects. Her hands, suddenly shaking, crumple the piece of parchment and her eyes begin to sting.

“They wanted to share the happy news with the king,” the prince answers nonchalantly. Rhaena just nods.

Her sister had gotten married. And she knew she would, but she didn’t expect it to be so quickly. Or that Baela wouldn’t even let her know through a letter. Or that…

“You seem upset by the news.”

The girl looks up at Aemond, who stares at her with open curiosity.

“I am not upset.”

“You seem so.”

“No, no, far from it, I am happy for her,” she answers so quickly that her words sound rushed, “I am. I just wish…” her voice breaks off.

Aemond watches her lower her head once more, his stomach churning with a mix of worry and anger at Rhaena’s obvious sadness. He shouldn’t push for answers. He knows he shouldn’t. But he wants to know what’s bothering her so much. “Speak,” he orders, though it sounds more like a request with how low his voice is.

Rhaena fiddles with her rings before doing so, “I wish I could have been there for the wedding. I always thought we’d be standing next to each other when we got married,” the girl watches Aemond’s expression, hoping to find a hint of mockery, but finds none, “It is silly, I know.”

“It is not.”

Yes, it is. He thinks. Weddings are just formal ceremonies with no real appeal. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed Helaena and Aegon’s.

Rhaena’s lips part in surprise. “I… uh… it doesn’t matter anyway. I know I wouldn't have been able to attend, I know my life is here now and I most likely won't be allowed to leave the Fortress”

“I would have let you go”

The words are out of his mouth before he can really think about it. Even though he knows it’s a lie. That Rhaena is right in thinking she wouldn’t have been able to attend, he’d rather not agree with her. He’d rather lie to her and make her feel better. Or look better in her eyes.

“You would?”

“I would have sent you with Daeron and Tessarion.”

Another lie.

But the genuine smile his words elicit from Rhaena keeps him from feeling too bad about it.

“Thank you, Aemond. Knowing that… means a lot to me,” she sighs, then, after biting her lower lip for a moment, adds, “Though it wouldn’t have done any good because, clearly, my sister didn’t want me there.”

“Is that what you think?”

“What else can I think? She didn’t write to tell me about the betrothal, nor did she mention the wedding taking place so soon in her last letter. What would you think if Daeron did something like that to you?”

“Mmm,” so that was really what was bothering him. Not the wedding, but having been, once again, ignored by her twin.

“Maybe I am being unfair,” she sighs, “Maybe I am just being too emotional about this. After all, I already knew they were getting married, didn’t I? There’s not much point in telling me more considering she surely thought I wouldn’t be allowed to attend,” Rhaena continues, unable to stop, “Yes, that must be it. Baela… surely… she will explain her reasons to me in the next letter”

“Or maybe she simply didn’t want to be overshadowed at her wedding.”

“Overshadowed?”

“By the presence of the most important lady in the realm.”

Rhaena lets out a chuckle that wipes the melancholic expression off her face, “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I think it makes a lot of sense,” Aemond smirks, pleased to see her more cheerful, “Surely the nobles of Driftmark would have been more impressed with you than the bride.”

“They wouldn’t have to,” she replies, “And I don’t think Baela cares too much about that.”

“You know she does,” Aemond shakes his head, “It was pretty clear when she was here that she would have preferred to have your place under other circumstances. You know I’m telling the truth,” he points out when she tries to interrupt, “By your side, your sister feels diminished. And, she was probably used to it being the other way around.”

Rhaena nods mechanically, “All the attention used to be hers.”

“And now it’s yours. Lady of the Red Keep, while she barely has a small island to look after”

“You make my position sound much more important than it is”

“Your responsibilities are much greater than Baela's, you know that well”

“She doesn't care what I do here”

“Because she lacks the ability to flourish at Court the way you do,” once again his words flow out without him being able to contain them, “You are clever, bold, and…”

Rhaena seems caught up in his words, as if drinking in every compliment he says. Without thinking much, he takes a few steps towards her, getting closer and closer. Feeling, once again, her perfume overwhelming him.

“You are capable of being of great help to the crown.”

“Still, I would trade all that for another chance to spend time with my sister.”

Aemond doesn’t take her comment well. He doesn’t like the ease with which Rhaena chooses Baela over her current life. Over him. Which is irrational, he knows, but still…

Rhaena knows she has annoyed him with her answer. She notices it in the bitterness in his expression. Although she doesn’t quite understand why it would bother him to hear her say that when all he does is ignoring her. Her hand automatically rises to place on the prince’s arm, but before she can do so, he speaks again.

“I need your assistance with a matter.”

“Oh,” Rhaena clears her throat and drops her hand, interlacing it with her other free hand, “What matter?”

“The High Septon intends to build a sept outside the city, in one of the most fertile farming areas of the Crownlands. I need you to dissuade him from that idea.”

“If they are part of the Crownlands, why does the septon have access to them?”

“My father gave them to him during his reign,” Aemond rolls his good eye, “I want to take them back into our custody and use them. These resources should directly benefit us, not the Faith.”

“I assume you send me because you wish to apply a more… subtle method rather than force.”

“It is good to have the Faith on our side,” he nods, “But without giving them too much freedom. Request a meeting with the High Septon. Offer him something he might want in return. Something he wants that won’t put us in a compromising position.”

“I’ll think of something that might work.”

“The High Septon likes you. I trust you can do it.”

The smile returns to Rhaena’s lips. “Do you trust me?” Aemond doesn’t answer, he just tilts his face to the side and the girl’s smile widens, “Thank you, Aemond. It means a lot to me.”

That brings him back to face her. The prince’s expression, lacking his usual frown or coldness, is instead oddly soft. “I wanted to thank you for taking care of Marianne’s situation as well.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know,” she whispers, and, emboldened by the closeness and the way he’s looking at her, with that intensity from their first nights, she places her hand on his face, “I really appreciate you doing it.”

Aemond closes his eye at her touch and Rhaena traces his cheek with her thumb, moving down to his jaw and reaching the corner of his lips. The prince shudders, and his breathing starts to come out ragged.

“I should… I have to go to…”

Aemond suddenly opens his eye and steps back.

Rhaena tries not to feel so disappointed at losing contact, “Of course.”

“You should go.”

She just nods and turns her back on him, walking to the door. As her hand closes on the doorknob, she turns and sees the prince staring at her.

He wants to ask her to stay. She is sure he wants to ask her to stay, but even though they look at each other for a few seconds, he ends up looking down.

And she opens the door and leaves him alone.

***

His mother is waiting for him outside Aegon’s chamber.

“Aemond, I need to speak with you.”

“If it is about Daeron’s wedding, then you arrange as you see fit.”

“It is not about the wedding. It is about the fact that you have given Lady Rhaena the freedom to deal with matters of the Crown.”

Aemond stops in his tracks and his mother, lagging behind him, almost runs into his back, “I do not understand.”

“Neither do I. It was a lack of judgment on your part,” she replies in an exasperated voice.

“Mother…”

“She is a noble lady. She should not be dealing with financial matters and alliances.”

“You did,” he retorts, “In fact, it was you who handed over your responsibilities to her not long ago.”

“I passed over the charitable work I was handling to her. Matters of little consequence to keep her busy.”

“Matters she has performed efficiently.”

“That does not change the fact that she should not be meddling in the running of the kingdom. Frankly, Aemond, I am surprised that you would entrust her with something as important as this.”

“It is merely a barter with the High Septon.”

“It is the Crown’s relationship with the Faith.”

“You are always saying that Rhaena knows how to function socially. It seemed appropriate to give her this task,” Alicent does not respond immediately, simply observing him, as if trying to decipher something in him. Her scrutiny is so annoying, it forces him to look away, “Mother…”

“You cannot trust her.”

“She is my wife. A wife you insisted I take,” he retorts scathingly, “I did not want to marry her. But the council and you pushed me to. Ever since she came here you have told me I should be more attentive to her and now that I am you tell me I am acting wrongly. Honestly, mother, I do not understand.”

“I told you to pay attention to her and be polite to keep up appearances with the Court and because it was the right thing to do. Lady Rhaena came here because her blood is important, her name is needed. But you cannot trust her.”

“What exactly do you think Rhaena gains from all this? Do you think she and the High Septon will raise an army against Aegon?”

“No, of course not. But she is not one of us. Not yet. Not until she bears you a child,” at the mention of an heir, Aemond lowers his gaze, “Once she bears you a child, preferably a son, who is named heir to the throne, only then can you be sure she will be loyal to us. No mother would ever act against her own child.”

His mother’s words sound almost bitter. Aemond watches her eyes fill with something he can’t quite place, a melancholy he doesn’t quite understand. Though he can’t help but think that perhaps it’s because Alicent is speaking from her own experience when referring to the matter.

“Focus on your real work, Aemond. Summon her to your chambers and produce an heir as soon as possible,” she orders. “Afterward you can, if you wish, get closer to your wife.”

“I’m not too concerned with that.”

“Are you not?” His mother steps up to him, placing her hands over his and staring at him, “Do not act so lightly. Do not let her will win over yours. You are a prince. Act with the dignity of one.”

His mother leaves his side and Aemond is left alone with his thoughts, walking automatically until he reaches the courtyard of the fortress and orders his horse to be brought to him.

Vhagar is awake and hears him approach, growling at the sight of him and covering him with her warm breath as he comes closer to caress her tanned skin. The prince lies down on her, matching his breathing to the heavy one of his dragon.

He tries to tell himself that Alicent's words are meaningless, but he knows that they are not.

His mother has done nothing more than verbalize the fears he feels. His fear of letting himself be carried away by what he feels towards Rhaena. Hadn't he already started to do so? Wasn't it because of the weakness he felt for his wife that he had offered to take part in the affairs of the kingdom? He hadn't been able to bear seeing her so defeated, so hurt by her twin's attitude. He had had to do something to make her the smiling Rhaena she always was.

But that was dangerous. Even his mother knew that.

Vhagar roars, perhaps sensing his inner conflict, and Aemond closes his eye and wishes to soar through the skies with her again. Though it is nearly impossible now.

The prince stays with her until she falls asleep again, then returns to the Tower of the Hand. As he enters his room and takes a bath, he repeats his mother's words once more.

An heir. That is what is expected of him. Of him and Rhaena.

Not a relationship, not a union beyond one that produces a male child. He cannot wish for anything more. He does not want to wish for anything more, even if his heart says otherwise.

He cannot have Rhaena completely. But, at least he can have her in his nights. So, he calls one of the maids and orders her to summon his wife.

Thanks for reading :)

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

King's Landing is not exactly a beautiful city.

Although, during his childhood away from the capital, Daeron had often romanticized it mainly due to the nostalgia he felt towards his mother and siblings, he had encountered a disappointing reality upon returning to the city after the war.

King's Landing was dirty, messy and smelly.

The complete opposite of Oldtown.

Oldtown and its eternal charm, its mix of tradition and modernity. It had been a good place to grow up. A place that, since a few days ago when his older brothers had told him that he should formalize his betrothal as soon as possible, he has been thinking about more and more frequently.

Although, if he is honest, it is not exactly his maternal family's ancestral city that he misses, but rather his uncle. Ser Gwayne had been a father to him since his arrival at the Hightower. He had taught him to fight, to hunt, to write... and it was precisely his advice that he wants now more than ever.

As if you didn't know what he was going to tell you.

His uncle, an honorable knight, would surely tell him that a betrothal with Lady Westerling is an excellent choice for a third son like him. That, in addition to being beautiful, the young woman is kind, educated and of noble birth. That her dowry will be more than enough to increase his personal reserves, which would never be as large as those of his older brothers. That, by joining one of the oldest houses in the West, he will have more influence in the kingdom. Not that he needs it, he doesn't mind not exercising political power, he is more than happy taking care of practical matters than dealing with tedious issues like Aemond.

Daeron is aware that marrying Marianne Westerling is the best option. Still…

His gaze shifts to the young woman who silently walks beside him through the gardens.

“I am sorry, Lady Marianne, I probably should have suggested we talk in one of the drawing rooms,” he says after watching her shiver for the third time.

“It is fine, my prince, I do not mind the cold,” he assures her, though her red nose and cracked voice say otherwise.

Daeron simply nods, and they resume their walk in silence. It is not an awkward silence, and though he knows what he’s expected to say, he can’t do it. At least not yet.

“I did not get a chance to tell you,” Marianne’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “But I did enjoy watching you compete in the tournament, my prince”

“Thank you,” he replies with a smirk, “I would have preferred to win, though.”

“You were the winner in my heart.”

Marianne seems to register her words a second later, because her cheeks flush and she looks down, clearly embarrassed.

Daeron finds the gesture adorable.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he replies.

It takes Marianne a few long seconds to face him again, and when she does, the prince is once again struck by how pretty she is.

And by how little effect that beauty has on him.

You are a fool, he thinks as his mind conjures up the face of someone else. Someone he can never have.

“There is a matter I would like to discuss with you,” he finally dares to say, “It is my wish that we can unite our houses through a betrothal. The Crown agrees with my idea and the king, my brother, has agreed to our marriage. However, I would like to know what you think about the matter.”

His words sound formal. Too formal and rehearsed. And yet, the smile that appears on the young woman’s face is so wide that it increases the feeling of ingratitude he feels.

“I would like nothing more than to be your wife, my prince.”

Daeron struggles to offer her a smile, “It is decided then. The council will arrange the details with your lord father, so we can proceed.”

“I am honored, my prince,” she replies, bowing.

 “My brother will surely announce the betrothal soon, but I ask for discretion for now. It's wiser this way.”

“Of course,” Marianne nods immediately.

“And we should probably wait until winter is over before we get married,” he says more to himself, “Yes, I think waiting a while would be wise.”

Time. It's just what he needs. Time to get used to his future.

And time to banish ideas – and feelings – that are better left uninhabited.

***

His sheets no longer smell like her.

The scent of roses that always surrounds Rhaena has almost completely disappeared from his room, and as Aemond shifts in bed trying to find a comfortable position to rest, he can't help but grab the pillow at his side and inhale deeply, wanting to find a trace of his wife in it.

But he finds no comfort in the action.

Like the previous nights, he can't sleep either. His room is now a place that torments him. All he can think about every time he enters it is Rhaena's body lying between his sheets, her platinum hair spread across his pillows, the softness of her skin, her kisses...

Aemond growls, exasperated with himself because, no matter how hard he tries, he can't get her out of his mind.

Although he finds refuge in his daily work, forcing himself to focus on the affairs of the kingdom, on accounts, reports and inspections, the nights are torture. Every time he returns to the Tower he walks silently so as not to hear her, so as not to succumb to his desire to require her presence, to see her or to hold her in his arms. Only that his private rooms are living proof of what he tries to deprive himself of. And, although he knows that he could very well request new accommodations, that masochistic part of him does not wish to do so. No, that little part delights in sleeping in the bed he shared with her, where he felt her warmth…

The prince curses once more as his mind conjures the sensation of sinking inside of her, of her moans and the way Rhaena says his name when she explodes with pleasure. His body betrays him too, and he feels his cock getting excited, growing between his legs and screaming for his attention.

“Seven hells!”

Would it be so bad to summon her? To share her bed again? At some point he would have to, because after all, their union must produce an heir. So why not just give in to his desire? Why keep keeping her away? Wasn’t it easier to just…?

No.

He had done it once before. He had given in to his passions and it had brought him close to death. He had allowed someone else to control him and have influence over him. And he wasn’t going to do it again. He couldn’t show himself weak again. He had agreed to this marriage only to fulfill his duty to the realm, to please his mother and help in the survival of his house. Nothing more was required of him.

Aemond moves between the sheets again, but when the pressure on his cock becomes unbearable, he can’t help but slide his hand and stroke the length of it, moving up and down and imagining it’s Rhaena’s hand stroking him. Or her mouth. How would it feel to have her lips and tongue wrapped around his cock? The mere thought makes him explode, spilling his seed all over his stomach.

Defeated, though somewhat relieved, he cleans himself up and manages to sleep for a few hours. As the sun breaks dawn, he slips out from between the sheets and walks to the training yard, where he grabs a sword and begins to stab the straw man.

“Bad night?”

The question comes from Ser Criston, who joins him, also taking up a sword.

“I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Once again?” the knight faces him, tacitly challenging him to a duel, “What is troubling you, my prince?”

He does not answer immediately. Though he trusts Cole, he doesn’t dare discuss his situation with him. Or anyone, really.

“I think we should send Daeron and Tessarion to the Stormlands.”

“Is this because of the thefts to the nobles?”

“It is happening more and more often.”

“Your brother wouldn’t be much help, not on the back of his dragon,” Ser Criston replies, “The thieves probably set up camp deep in the woods, from the sky Daeron would not be able to see them. You know that as well as I do.”

“Mmm,” Aemond lunges at the knight, who deflects his attack with ease.

“Send me if you are so worried about the situation.”

“No, I need you here.”

The prince repeats his action and lets out a frustrated grunt when he fails to even touch his master.

“You are distracted,” Cole comments as they put down their swords and catch their breath, “What is it really bothering you?” When he gets no response, he insists, “The realm is at peace, the council follows your instructions and there is no sign of disloyalty on their part.”

Aemond takes his sword again and Cole his morning star, wielding it skillfully and making the young man concentrate to the maximum so as not to be hit by the weapon.

“Is it Lady Rhaena?” When the prince glares at him, a sideways smile appears on Cole’s face. “I imagine that living together is not proving to be an easy task.”

“Why do you assume that?”

“You have always been an independent young man,” Ser Criston dodges again, “Accustomed to your ways and routines. And now you have a wife to include in all of this. It must be… complicated.”

“I barely see her.”

“Why is that?”

Aemond shrugs, “I have no need to,” he lies, “She is just…”

“Your wife,” the knight cuts him off, “Who in the eyes of the gods you covered with your cloak and swore to protect.”

“She does not need my protection, she is safe here in the Keep.”

“That is not what I mean,” Ser Criston replies, shaking his head, “Lady Rhaena requires your attention and dedication as well.”

Aemond lets out a cynical chuckle, though internally, he feels a tug of guilt and bitterness at the knight’s words, “She receives enough attention from the Court. I do not think she desires mine.”

His words must convey something of what he feels, because Ser Criston stops his attacks and watches him with those shrewd eyes that detected his lies as a child, and made him confess his escapes from the castle to try to sneak into the Dragon Pit, “You can be gentle with her. There would be nothing wrong with getting along with your wife. I know you didn’t wish to marry her, but that doesn’t stop your feelings towards that union from changing over time.”

“We married to produce a royal heir,” Aemond retorts, “For the future of the dynasty. You told me that, remember?”

“I remember,” he nods and lets out a heavy sigh, “I just think there is nothing wrong with you feeling affection for your wife, my prince”

Aemond grimaces and looks away for a moment.

“It has nothing to do with that,” he finally murmurs, and when he faces Criston, it is with a harsh and cold look in his eye, “Let’s keep training.”

And although his words echo in his mind, he focuses only on the comforting sound of steel against steel, trying to forget his doubts and everything else.

***

“We are honored by your visit, Princess Rhaena.”

The orphanage is considerably larger than the one she visited last time. And it is filled with small children running around in torn shoes and scantily clad despite the cold. Seeing their little red noses and almost purple lips, Rhaena is suddenly embarrassed by the fur coat she is wearing.

The septa, an elderly woman, offers her a rickety chair by the fire.

“Thank you,” she replies with a smile, “I hope the provisions I brought are enough to ease your burden.”

“Praise the Mother,” the woman replies, “Our burden is great, as you can see, my lady. But we try to house all the children who are in need.”

Rhaena looks back at the many children of varying ages who are excitedly running around the carts filled with vegetables and wheat she has brought. This orphanage, one of the ones on the queen dowager’s list, is her first stop in Flea Bottom.

“The Crown appreciates your service, septa,” Rhaena clears her throat, “What else do they need?”

“There is never enough food, my lady, but we also require clothing and blankets. Last winter took more than half of the children in our care.”

Her heart sinks at the woman’s words, “I am very sorry to hear that.”

“It was a shame, really, but the Gods are probably taking better care of them than we could,” the woman sighs, “There are few who will grow up to be good men and women.”

Rhaena looks back at the children, and a lump form in her heart, “How long will they be under your care if they cannot find families to take them in?”

“A few years, until they can take care of themselves. We try to teach them practical things, but it’s hard to make a living in this city.”

The sound of a crying baby cuts off the conversation, and a young septa enters with a small child in her arms.

“One more?”

“I’m afraid so,” the young woman sighs and, seeing Rhaena, bows before leaving the small room.

“The arrival of winter makes the women simply abandon them.”

“Isn’t there some way to find their mothers? To help them so they can raise their children?”

“Babies are not welcome where they come from,” the septa explains, “Most of these children are the children of prostitutes on the Street of Silk. There is no place for these creatures in these establishments. And those that are kept are for a much worse fate.”

Rhaena pales and the septa apologizes for bringing up an inappropriate subject for her.

For the rest of the visit, as she oversees that the orphanage receives all that she has brought to offer, Rhaena wanders through the gloomy, cold rooms, promising to return with more help.

“I will return soon,” she assures the septa, “And I will bring more useful things.”

The children cling to her skirts, bidding her farewell, and Rhaena tries to contain her sudden urge to cry as she leaves the place.

“Shall we return to the palace, princess?” the royal guard asks.

“Not yet,” she sighs, “I want to walk around the city a bit.”

The man follows her silently and the girl tries to ease her heart as she thinks about the harsh reality she has just witnessed. She knew the city had many shortages, but she was not prepared to see them so directly. King's Landing had looked lovely on the occasions she had visited, although that was probably because they had embellished part of the city for the wedding. Now that she had ventured deeper into the heart of the town, she could see the reality.

“This place is not appropriate for you, my lady,” the guard warns her

“Why not?”

“Well it is… it is the Street of Silk, my lady.”

“Oh,” Rhaena stops abruptly and looks curiously at the establishments that, in the light of day, seem quite ordinary.

The famous Street of Silk. Women wearing the most revealing dresses she has ever seen emerge from one of the houses, laughing and holding glasses while hugging a clearly drunk man. The man touches them shamelessly and they do not protest, rather they respond to his caresses while they continue laughing and then enter another of the houses.

“We should go back to the palace, princess”

Rhaena nods and they return to the carriage. During the ride, her mind can't help but return to the scene on Silk Street. And the many establishments she had seen. Were they all brothels? Were they all packed at night, offering forbidden pleasures to men? Had Aemond frequented any of these places? Did he still frequent them even now?

Doubt grows inside her like poison ivy. The prince had assured her that distractions were things of the past, but was he keeping his word? Or was that why he no longer called her to his chambers? Perhaps he preferred the more experienced touch of his lover. Rhaena feels her heart race as she considers the possibility that she had been a disappointment to Aemond in the marriage bed. Was that why he avoided her? Had the novelty of possessing her been so dull after a couple of times that he needed something more? Had she failed?

“We are already at the Fortress, Madam”

Rhaena gets out of the carriage and advances through the castle without even looking where she is going.

“There you are!” Marianne’s arms suddenly encircle her and her friend’s squeal of excitement stops the thoughts that are gnawing at her insides. “I was looking for you,” her lady continues, “Oh Rhaena! The prince Daeron asked me to be his wife.”

“What?” she gasps, surprised, “How… how did it happen?”

Rhaena tries to act surprised even though she expected it to happen because, after all, Aemond had assured her that she didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

Just as he assured you that there would be no one else but you, she thinks.

And, if he had kept his promise to Daeron and Marianne, why wouldn’t he also keep his promise to never visit his former lover again?

Yes, her doubts were unfounded. They had to be, she thinks as she watches her friend’s smile, pleased by the betrothal, and making plans about the wedding, the dress and the decoration of the sept. “Prince Aemond will announce our betrothal soon,” Marianne beams, “But you mustn’t tell anyone until then.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rhaena beams back, “I am so happy for you. And that we can still be together.”

“It is amazing, is it not?” Her lady’s honey-colored eyes fill with unshed tears, “And we will be family! Our children will be cousins ​​and grow up together.”

Rhaena giggles and tries to push her doubts aside, letting herself be carried away by the idyllic picture her lady paints for her.

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Three days.

Three days have passed since the second night they spent together.

Since she woke up alone in the prince's bed again.

And in those three days, even though she could have already started working on her new duties or visited the other courtiers, she preferred to stay in the Tower of the Hand, waiting.

Waiting for him.

Hoping he would call her back to his chambers, hoping to see him and share more moments with her husband.

But, in these three days, she hasn't even seen him.

If the prince has been coming and going from the Tower, he has done so in such a way that Rhaena has not noticed his presence. And though she mentally told herself that Aemond was probably busy with his many duties as Hand of the King, she could not help but feel ignored.

“The prince is not in his chambers,” the guard informs her as Rhaena stops near the door that, she now knows, opens directly into her husband’s chambers.

The girl ignores him and turns, suppressing the pang of disappointment and walking as quickly as she can toward the stairs.

She needs a change of scenery. She needs to get out of the Tower or she will die of boredom. She needs to clear her head, and re-engage her mind. So, she heads toward the gardens, toward the sea-view gazebo where she has arranged to meet Marianne.

“Rhaena!” Her lady runs the last few meters that separate them, melting her in an embrace that leaves her almost breathless, but she returns it with the same spirit. “I know it is only been a few days, but I felt your absence very much.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she assures her once they break the hug, following the girl to the chairs and the small table full of sweets and drinks that she has surely previously arranged.

“I would have gone to visit you days ago, but my aunt forbade me to do so. She said it was not appropriate to bother a newlywed,” Marianne makes a face and takes the teapot that is in front of them, pouring two cups of a sweet-smelling infusion.

“I figured as much,” Rhaena nods, taking the cup and drinking a couple of sips, grateful that the liquid warms her body as the days in the Keep are getting colder, “It does not matter, we are here now, I want to know everything I have missed in these days of absence.”

“Not much, actually,” Marianne sets her cup aside, “Several of the nobles have already left the castle, my aunt among them.”

“Oh, I wish I could say goodbye to Lady Johanna,” she says regretfully.

“She asked me to pass on her good wishes on your marriage. She could not stay because with winter so close, she wants to be at the Rock as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Rhaena nods.

“The nobles who did stay are currently in the Royal Forest taking part in the hunt for your wedding.”

Rhaena had completely forgotten that a hunting party had been organized.

“When did the party leave?”

“A couple of days ago.”

A couple of days. She can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, the prince had decided to join the party. Maybe that was why he was absent from the Tower.

“Rhaena? Are you okay?”

Marianne’s voice breaks her from her thoughts.

“What?”

“You tell me,” her friend frowns, “You suddenly seemed… lost in thought. Is… is everything okay?”

“Yes, it is,” she says, sipping from her cup again.

Marianne meets her gaze, and when Rhaena sees genuine concern reflected in her friend’s eyes, her façade crumbles. “Was it really that bad?” she asks quietly, finding Rhaena’s hand and squeezing it in a comforting gesture.

Rhaena bites her lip and shakes her head, “It was not bad at all,” she admits, feeling her cheeks flush, “It was… Aemond was…” she does not know exactly what to say to Marianne or how to begin to describe in precise words everything she had experienced, “I really enjoyed it,” she finally says.

Her friend’s eyes widen in surprise, and after a few seconds, a small smile forms on her lips, “But that is good news!”

“I do not know,” she sighs.

“Why not? If you and the prince understand each other in the… physical sense, it will help your relationship to improve and become stronger, don’t you think?”

“I thought the same,” she admits, closing her eyes for a few seconds, “But Aemond…” Marianne does not press her, but waits for her to continue. “Aemond does not seem to like my company.”

“Nonsense!”

“Then why has he ignored me all these past days? He’s only summoned me to his chambers twice, and then nothing. Not even a polite word or a note explaining his absence from the Tower. I have been alone in that place, bored and… I do not know why I am so surprised, really. He did not pay me any more attention than necessary during our betrothal. I do not know why I thought that would change now that we are married.”

Rhaena shrugs, trying to downplay it, although the bitterness in her chest says otherwise.

“It is true that the prince is often cold and distant,” Marianne agrees, “But, Rhaena, he put himself at risk by participating in the tourney so that he could kill Ser Corwyn because he thought he had corrupted you. And before that, he could not stand the idea of ​​you getting close to him. I think that shows that, in some way, he cares about you.”

“Does he? Or was it just his wounded pride that caused him to act in such way?”

“No, I do not think so,” she repeats with conviction, “I don’t know to what extent, but I know that the prince shares your…”

“Do not say feelings,” Rhaena cuts her off, sighing, “I do not want to talk about this anymore. Aemond and I are married and I’d better put my… expectations aside. Besides, realistically, no couple is expected to share every night together or get along perfectly, right? I’d better focus on my responsibility, and for that, I will need your help.”

“Tell me then,” Marianne smiles, “What do we need to do?”

Rhaena fills her in on her conversation with Alicent, “I will meet with the royal butler tomorrow, he used to help the queen dowager, so now he will assist me and I’ll arrange my new schedule accordingly to my new position.”

“Sounds exciting!” Marianne squeals, “Do you think you’ll need more ladies in waiting? Because I have a suggestion or two. Oh, and we will definitely have new engagements! That means new dresses and jewelry.”

Probably,” she smiles, feeling further encouraged by her friend’s contagious cheer.

Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of a horn and the distant sound of dogs barking.

“I believe the hunting party has returned.”

“Should we go see them?” Rhaena asks, inwardly hopeful of meeting Aemond.

“They will probably appreciate your welcome,” Marianne nods.

Rhaena agrees and links her arm with her lady, walking merrily as they discuss how best to handle the commitments they will undertake from now on.

When they reach the courtyard of the Keep they are greeted by the sound of horses, dogs, and two carriages carrying three enormous stags.

Rhaena receives the greetings of the nobles, chatting pleasantly with them and smiling politely.

“Who shed the first blood?”

“That honor went to Lord Bracken.”

“But it was I who felled the largest of the stags.”

A voice unfamiliar to Rhaena reaches them. Beside her, Marianne suddenly seems nervous, moving closer to her as she lowers her gaze.

“Lord Blackwood,” Rhaena greets when the young lord finally reaches them, “Congratulations on your feat.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Blackwood bows before looking to her friend, “Lady Westerling.”

“My lord,” Marianne greets as well, smiling politely.

There is a moment of silence as Rhaena notices Lord Benjicot’s intense gaze on her lady.

“Was the hunt what you expected?” she asks, trying to break the tense moment.

“The royal woods did the trick, yes,” he nods, “Though the ones at Raventree are rather nicer, if I do say so myself.”

“I suppose we are all biased when it comes to our home.”

Lord Benjicot smiles and, looking away from Marianne, who remains silent, continues the conversation, exchanging the usual pleasantries with Rhaena and even mentioning his grandmother.

“I have tried to convince her to return with me,” he admits, “But she says her duties as mistress of the castle are over now and that I should find a Lady Blackwood soon if I need one so desperately.”

Rhaena giggles, but she doesn’t miss that Marianne is looking increasingly nervous. So, after entertaining the nobles a little more, she makes an excuse for them, and begins the journey back to the Tower with her friend.

“Should I be worried?”

“Why?”

“Because you acted very strangely while we were talking to Lord Blackwood,” Rhaena stares at her, “You seemed… I do not know… uncomfortable,” Marianne does not deny it, she just sighs and there is a pained look on her face, “What is it? Was he unkind to you?”

“Quite the opposite,” there is a moment of hesitation and finally, she adds, “I think he wants to marry me.”

“Excuse me?” Rhaena gasps

Marianne clears her throat, “Lord Blackwood has been corresponding with my father, showing interest in me,” she explains, “My aunt thinks… she thinks that if Lord Benjicot were to ask for my hand, it would be a good idea to accept his proposal.”

“But… what about Daeron? Lady Johanna is aware of your feelings for my cousin.”

“She is, but she thinks choosing Lord Benjicot would be more suitable because we do not have too many relations with that part of the realm and…” she shrugs, “We were on opposite sides during the war. It would be a way to continue to strengthen ties of peace.”

“That is totally unacceptable!” her indignation causes her to stop in her tracks, “My cousin is a Targaryen prince.”

“I know, I know,” Marianne tries to appease her, “It is not me you have to convince,” she lets out a nervous giggle, “I just wish… I hope Prince Daeron really thinks of me as a possible bride, and shows his interest soon. I do not think I can oppose my father if he decides to betroth me to Lord Blackwood.”

“Fear not, it won’t come to that,” she assures, “I will not allow it. I am a princess now,” this is the first time she refers to herself by her new title, “Wife of the Hand of the King. If I decide that you will stay by my side as my lady-in-waiting, your father won’t be able to refuse. You will stay here with me and of course you will marry Daeron. He is clearly interested,” when Marianne looks at her, honey eyes full of hope, she continues, “He danced with you several times during the wedding. No gentleman goes to such lengths if he is not courting a lady.”

Marianne does not say anything, simply squeezes her hand and encourages her to continue walking.

***

“The hunting party has returned, my prince.”

“Mmm,” he nods without looking up from the scroll he is reading.

The news of new robberies against the nobles on the Kingsroad, this time closer to the Stormlands, creates a feeling of anxiety within him.

If only Vhagar were able to fly, he thinks as he puts the scroll aside. If his dragon were whole again, he could fly to those lands and ensure that the attacks were nothing more than isolated accidents committed by peasants desperate for gold.

“What beasts did they manage to capture?”

“Deer, my prince. And boars.”

Aemond raises his face to the maester, nodding again, “See that the trophies are delivered to the nobles before the beast meat is distributed among the people of Flea Bottom.”

“My prince?” the surprise is clear in the man’s voice

“Did you not hear me, maester?” Aemond replies, irritated, “I ordered the deer and boar meat to be distributed throughout the city.”

“Yes, yes, of course, as you command,” the man responds quickly

Aemond stands and leaves the room, heading towards the Tower.

The guards greet him and, as he enters his chambers, giggles reach his ears from the small private parlor. Rhaena’s he manages to identify immediately, the other sounds strange to his ears.

Stopping to try to listen to what they are saying, he debates whether or not he should get closer so he can discover who is accompanying his wife. The past few days he has managed to get in and out of the Tower without running into her, determined as he is to remain steadfast in his resolve to avoid her as much as possible. But now…

The laughter resumes and he falters at the melodic sound. Closing the distance to the small hall, he enters unannounced, watching his wife and her lady-in-waiting sorting through the contents of several chests.

There is a moment of silence as both women watch him, clearly in awe, until Lady Westerling clears her throat and curtsies.

“My prince.”

Aemond takes a few steps further into the room, “What is all this?”

His good eye is trained on Rhaena, who raises her eyebrows in his direction, her face denoting a mix of indifference or disdain.

“These are my belongings,” she explains finally, “I am arranging them in my new hall.”

Aemond nods. Silence falls over the room again. He and Rhaena stare at each other for a moment before she takes a book from the chest and places it on one of the rows of shelves.

“I was helping my lady,” Marianne interjects, “But it is getting dark now, so I should better get back to my chambers.”

“No need, you could …”

“Good idea, Lady Westerling,” Aemond interrupts.

Rhaena rolls her eyes and purses her lips, though she does not protest. Westerling bows goodbye to her, whispering words he can’t understand from the distance.

Aemond looks around. The room isn’t too different from the ones he uses, and yet this room feels more homely to him than the dreary surroundings he lives in. Probably, he thinks, because of the splashes of color from the flowers Rhaena has surely arranged. Or the tray of steaming tea and cakes served on the table.

The prince turns his study back to Rhaena, who picks up another book and reaches out to put it back in its place. A grimace of pain appears on her face as she does so.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, frowning.

“It is just a passing ache,” she replies, shaking her head.

She does not elaborate further and basically ignores him as she continues with her work, the mask of indifference still painted on her face. Aemond begins to grow impatient as the silence lengthens, and he drums his fingers on the surface of the small table louder and louder.

Another minute passes until Rhaena sighs and speaks, “It is Morning. She continues to curl around my shoulders, only she is not as light as before.”

“Mmm,” Aemond takes a few steps towards his wife, “The Tower is no place for your dragon, she will grow larger and…”

“I know your position on the matter,” she cuts him off, her violet eyes suddenly serious, “I will not send her to the dragon pit. At least not yet.”

“Mmm.”

Rhaena slams the book she has been examining shut and faces him, “Stop making those sounds and just say what you want to say!”

Her anger amuses him. Aemond smirks and pulls a book out of the chest. “These are in High Valyrian,” he observes.

“Most were purchased in Pentos,” she explains, taking it from his hands and placing it on the shelf.

Aemond stares at her. He has never heard her speak High Valyrian, not even to her dragon. He wonders what her voice sounds like when speaking her native tongue.

“Are you listening to me?”

His wife’s voice brings him out of his reverie, “No, what were you saying?”

Rhaena rolls her eyes again, “I said there is a matter I wish to speak to you about.”

“I hear you.”

“It is about Daeron,” she begins.

Aemond raises his eyebrows at her, “What about him?”

“Well,” his wife looks down for a moment and frowns, clearly considering how to continue, “Is about him and Marianne.”

The subject seems to make her somewhat self-conscious, because she fiddles with her rings, as if she doesn’t know how to continue. Aemond remains silent, although he has an idea of ​​where Rhaena is going with this. Finally, and after long seconds of silence, she sighs and faces him.

“Last time you told me that your brother seemed to like the idea of ​​marrying Marianne.”

“Indeed.”

“And that is why I thought he would soon speak to my friend about the matter, but he hasn’t yet. I know you said that the king had to…”

“The king approved the idea,” he cuts her off, “Your lady-in-waiting can marry Daeron.”

“That is good to know,” the corners of Rhaena’s lips lift in a small smile.

“Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”

“No, not exactly,” she denies and bites her lip nervously. Aemond’s good eye flicks to her mouth at the gesture and a sudden urge to lift his hand and free the lip from the prison of his teeth surges through him, but he suppresses the desire and folds his hands behind his back. “I wanted to know if there was anything you could do to speed up the betrothal.”

“Why would I? Those matters are not of my concern.”

His voice sounds sharper than he intends and Rhaena’s face takes on a look of dismay, her eyes suddenly bright.

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

Aemond, expecting more insistence from her, is surprised when she simply accepts his answer and continues with her work. A feeling of guilt and bitterness rises in his chest at her lack of usual vehemence.

“Why would you want me to intervene in the matter?”

“Nothing, really,” she answers quickly and shrugs.

Aemond grimaces, annoyed by her words and annoyed because he wants to know the real reason for her request. And, especially, annoyed that he feels affected by having brought her to the verge of tears.

The voice inside him, the one that has guided him the last few days and that advises him to stay away from Rhaena as much as possible, tells him to simply accept her words and leave her alone in her chambers.

But he cannot do it.

“I want to hear your reasons,” when she doesn’t respond, he steps closer to the girl and places his hand on her chin, turning her face towards him, “Rhaena,” her name sounds almost like a warning.

“I do not want to lose my best friend,” she finally admits

Aemond frowns, “Why would you lose her?”

“Because her father is going to marry her off and send her away if she does not have a marriage proposal that will keep her here in the capital,” her voice breaks and, without thinking much, Aemond moves his hand to her cheek, gently caressing his thumb along her jaw. Rhaena tilts her face, leaning into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. When her lips brush the inside of his palm, an electrifying sensation runs through his entire body, so she breaks contact instantly, and crosses his hands behind his back once again.

Aemond clears his throat before speaking and looks away from Rhaena’s already wide eyes and flushed expression, "Why are you afraid of that just now?"

“Lord Benjicot has been sending letters to Marianne’s father.”

“Blackwood?” Rhaena nods, “Do you think he is interested in marrying your lady?”

“Yes. And surely Lord Westerling will accept his proposal if no other that would outdo her comes along.”

“Mmm,” the prince mulls on her words, “His affront at the tournament was not enough for him, apparently. Now he wishes to marry the lady my brother showed interest in.”

“Well yes, but this goes beyond…”

“I know,” he nods, suddenly annoyed, “We must remind the noble houses of the Crown’s influence. Aegon and I will speak to our brother to have him do his duty as soon as possible and take your lady as his wife.”

Rhaena frowns, “Daeron agrees, though? You said he was open to the idea. Do you think… do you think he actually likes Marianne?”

Aemond raises his eyebrows, “Does it really matter?”

Rhaena opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off.

“My brother will make a fine husband for your lady. And she is everything one would expect from a future wife of a Targaryen prince. You should not be concerned about the rest.”

Rhaena nods slowly, “I suppose you are right.” His wife offers him a half-smile before continuing, “Thank you, Aemond. I know I should not ask you, but I would not want to lose Marianne.”

“You won’t,” he assures her.

“She is the only true friend I have here,” she continues, “Her company has made life in the capital much more bearable. The Keep, and especially this Tower, can be very lonely and sad”

Rhaena meets his gaze as she says this, her expression filled with reproach. Reproach towards him or towards their situation? Aemond swallows and shakes his head. Is this her way of telling him that she desires his company? That she… misses him?

No.

No.

Surely it has nothing to do with that.

“Of course,” he says simply, “But you do not have to worry about it anymore.” Rhaena seems to want to say something more, but he turns his back on her, “It’s been a long day. Best leave that to the servants and get some rest.”

Without waiting for a reply, he strides across the room and closes the door behind him, needing to keep his distance to continue his resolve to get away from Rhaena.

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“My prince, we were not expecting you this evening.”

Aemond walks with his usual determined stride to his place at the head of the table. A servant hurries to pull out his chair as he places the marble sphere in its place, “When have I ever failed to attend a council meeting?”

“Well, never, my prince,” Lord Hayford agrees, “But I thought, given the special circumstances, you would take a couple of days off to enjoy your recent wedding.”

“It is what most lords do,” the grand maester agrees.

“Mmm,” Aemond purses his lips, “Most lords do not have a realm to rule.”

There is a moment of awkward silence until the men agree with him, nodding vehemently, “Let us begin.”

“Yes, well…” Lannister clears his throat, “The Citadel sent a white raven that arrived this morning, officially announcing the beginning of winter.”

“It is believed to be a short one, though considerably colder than the last one we experienced.”

“Are the crops already being managed?”

“Yes, Prince, we have set aside an adequate amount to be stored in case of food shortages.”

“Good, what else?”

“News has arrived from Oldtown reporting that some nobles were surprised by outlaws on the kingsroad as well.”

“That is nothing new.”

“No, Prince, but it does not usually go beyond the typical thefts of belongings and jewelry. It seems that this time the bandits were more daring beating up servants and lords who accompanied the traveling parties”

“Mmm,” Aemond drums his fingers on the table, “What of Lady Tyrell? Has she done nothing about it?”

“We have received no word from House Tyrell in that regard, Prince.”

“Then write to Lady Tyrell, ordering her to investigate who is responsible and to bring justice as soon as possible. What of the city?”

“The people remain in good spirits,” the maester replies, “The food from the banquet was distributed, as Lady Rhaena suggested, and of course the common people flocked to benefit from your wife’s charity.”

At the mention of Rhaena, his mind involuntarily conjures up the vision of the girl sleeping peacefully in his bed, her platinum curls covering part of her face, her chest rising and falling. He had wanted to touch her again this morning, feel the softness of her skin on his, kiss her again… but he hadn’t dared.

“My prince?”

Lannister’s expectant look brings him out of his thoughts.

“What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to hear a more detailed report of the wedding costs to the Crown.”

Aemond nods and Lord Tyland begins to read the specifics from a thick parchment.

For a few minutes, the prince tries to concentrate on listening to the Master of Coin, only eventually his thoughts drift back to his wife.

Or more specifically, to the memory of their wedding night.

To that very different side that Rhaena had shown, that side where she was not the bold and confident young woman who liked to exasperate him, but rather that innocent, insecure young woman… the one who had been embarrassed by the reactions of her own body.

It had been an unexpected aphrodisiac to find her so naive, so submissive, so… surprised with what he had produced in her. And they were just beginning. There were so many other things he could do, that he could show her, so much to experience…

Aemond closes his eye for a moment and takes a deep breath to calm the wave of excitement he feels. The desire to run out of this cursed room, climb the Tower of the Hand and make Rhaena his again had been consuming him since morning. He had tried to push it away by training harder than necessary and for much longer with Cole, but it was not enough.

And he did not like that.

He did not like Rhaena being on his mind longer than necessary, although he attributed it to the novelty of what they had shared. Surely it was just that. Probably, as the days passed, he would no longer feel the same intensity of desire for her.

“In conclusion?” he asks, interrupting Lannister

“It was a modest celebration and, although I still need to calculate the amount of gold the tournament left for the city, it seems to me that the Crown did not suffer too much with the wedding, my prince.”

“Well, then,” he stands up, “If that is all,” he says before leaving the room.

***

“The Dowager Queen awaits you in your drawing room, princess”

Rhaena looks up from the handkerchief she is embroidering – Vhagar in green threads – her eyes meeting those of her maid.

“Is Queen Alicent here?”

“Yes, princess.”

She does not expect the woman’s visit, although she receives the news with enthusiasm. She knows that it is customary for newly married women to remain a few days adjusting to their new life and not being disturbed, so she is surprised that Alicent Hightower, always a follower of customs, has come to her.

Rhaena stands, adjusts the skirts of her dress and walks to the hall that has been assigned to her as part of her private chambers.

The place, large, airy, although austerely decorated, is comfortable and has a nice view of the sea. Queen Alicent, sitting on one of the sofas, waits for her with her eyes closed and her hands clasped together, as if she were praying.

“Queen Alicent,” she greets with a smile and a nod

“Rhaena,” the woman immediately stands up and walks over to her, looking her up and down, as if examining her with a critical eye, “I am sorry to interrupt you, I know it is not appropriate, but I thought it might be good for you to have someone to… talk to.”

There is a moment of silence in which she does not know what to answer, but finally she nods and looks at her maid, “Please, Nelly, bring tea and cakes for us.”

The maid goes out to get the food, and Rhaena sits next to Alicent, who continues to watch her.

“Are you feeling well?” The woman asks, frowning.

“I am fine, Your Grace.”

“The wedding night can be a… different experience.”

“It was.”

“My son, the Prince Aemond… was… was he…?”

The Dowager Queen doesn’t know how to continue, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“The prince was patient and attentive with me, Your Grace.”

Alicent is clearly relieved and pleased with her answer, because she sighs and offers her a small smile, “I am glad to hear that. I will ask him to refrain from calling you to his chambers for a few days, until you can feel more… comfortable with the changes you experienced.”

The maid arrives at that moment and serves them tea and sweets. Rhaena quickly takes her cup and takes a few sips of the hot infusion, trying to disguise her blushing expression, “Of course, that would be… very kind of you, Your Grace.”

“I know you probably need some time to yourself,” Alicent continues, “But there is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

The girl raises her face again, intrigued, “I am listening.”

“Now that you have married my son,” she says, “It is time to put aside my responsibilities completely, and I would like you to be the one to take them on.”

Rhaena’s eyes widen, surprised by the queen dowager’s request.

“You showed a caring spirit while tending to the people, and charitable works are something I used to do frequently before…” Alicent looks away, “The people deserve that their rulers look after them. I think you are the right person to take up the Crown’s activities in that regard.”

“Shouldn’t Queen Ellyn be in charge of such matters?”

“She should,” Alicent nods, “I tried to get her to do so, shortly after she married the king, but she did not take much interest in these causes. And now… she needs to continue healing as well.”

“But she was present at the wedding yesterday and seemed fine.”

“Which was a surprise,” the queen dowager admits, “Still, I insist that you be the one to take over from me.”

Rhaena’s eyes meet Alicent Hightower’s, and to her surprise, she finds them tired. Only, she thinks, it is not a physical tiredness, but rather one that seems to spring from her soul.

“You honor me with your proposal, Queen Alicent, and I gladly accept.”

The Dowager Queen sighs again and places her hand on Rhaena’s, “Good. Thank you, Rhaena.”

Squeezing her hand gently in a farewell gesture, the woman stands up and leaves the room.

Rhaena finishes eating her pastries before returning to her room to continue with the embroidering. Once the handkerchief is ready, she decides to write a letter to Lady Jeyne Arryn and another to Baela, letting her know of her displeasure at not having confided in her on the subject of her betrothal to Alyn. After sealing them, she hands them to one of the maids to take to a maester, ordering them to be sent as soon as possible.

Morning lets out a growl and a flare of dragonfire, drawing her attention. The princess follows the direction of her dragon’s gaze, finding two of her maids there, terrified, not wanting to approach.

“Princess Rhaena, we… we…”

None of them can speak, their eyes fixed on Morning, who flies up to land on Rhaena’s shoulders.

“Do you need anything?”

“We brought… dinner for your dragon, ma’am,” one of them finally explains.

As it’s clear that none of them will come near, and that Morning hasn’t gotten used to them yet, Rhaena orders them to leave the food on one of the small tables and leave.

“They are just a couple of scared little girls,” Rhaena sighs as she goes to the tray of raw meat, taking a piece in her hand, “You shouldn’t be so angry with them.”

Morning ignores her words, flying off her shoulders and roasting the meat before attacking it with bites. Rhaena watches the scene enthralled, stroking her pink scales as she returns to her favorite spot by the fireplace.

“I am sure we will get used to this place soon enough, too,” she says, though she is not sure if she is trying to convince the dragon or herself.

Though she’s only been in the Tower for a few hours, the place is too lonely for her liking. The guards and servants do not speak to her except when necessary, and since she cannot openly invite visitors, she has done nothing but try to entertain herself all day.

And think about Aemond.

Rhaena looks away from Morning and watches the sun set outside the window. Night will soon fall and she cannot help but wonder if Aemond has returned to the Tower yet. Will the prince seek her out? Will he ask her to join him in his private chambers? Will they share another night together? Does she even wish for that to happen?

Yes.

The absolute certainty of her answer embarrasses her, but she cannot help but want to see him. To be in the same room as him. To hear him say her name.

Remember your promise, Rhaena, she tells herself, thinking of her sister and her warnings.

But her resolve is shaky when she hears voices and the sound of doors opening and closing somewhere.

Without thinking too much, she takes the handkerchief she has embroidered, and decides to leave her room, moving through the halls until she reaches what she assumes is Aemond's office. Since it is not guarded, she simply opens the door and enters a small private room that she recognizes as the one she had visited the time Aemond had summoned her to announce that they would participate together in the Mother's Festival.

 “¿Rhaena?”

The prince’s voice from the other end takes her by surprise.

“Cousin!” she replies, hand on chest, “I am sorry, I did not…”

“Were you looking for me?”

“No. I mean, yes, it’s just…”

She stops talking as the prince walks up to her, staring at her so intently that she has to look away, suddenly aware of everything that happened the night before. A blush floods her cheeks as she internally curses herself for coming to him. How has she not thought about how embarrassing it would be to face him after sleeping together?

“Dinner is ready, my prince,” a servant interrupts, freeing her from further conversation.

Aemond does not respond, his eyes still fixed on Rhaena, who is clearly uncomfortable and nervous, by the way her feet are swinging back and forth.

“Set a plate for my wife,” he finally orders, enjoying the startled expression on Rhaena’s face and wide eyes as she raises her face again, clearly surprised by the invitation.

The prince walks over to the table and waits for Rhaena, who takes a few seconds to react and walk, to sit down before taking her place as well.

The servant pours wine for them both, and his wife drinks generously from her goblet. Aemond begins to eat in silence, watching her out of the corner of his eye and waiting for her to calm down. He knows her well enough to know that Rhaena won’t be able to hold out for much longer before breaking the stillness of the moment.

“Were you meeting with the council?”

Aemond suppresses a smile and pretends to cut a piece of boar, “Yes.”

“Was it an… interesting meeting?”

“Mmm.”

His answer is short and doesn’t give rise to further conversation, so Rhaena looks at him expectantly, clearly wanting more details but not daring to press for them.

Aemond briefly considers exasperating her with more silence, but when his eyes meet Rhaena’s violet ones, finding them filled with genuine anticipation for a response from him, he sighs and puts aside his initial resolve, “Winter has officially begun and we must take steps to ensure we have provisions in case it extends longer than expected.”

“Oh,” Rhaena shifts in her seat, nodding in delight, “My cousin Alyn will do something similar. He mentioned that he would be traveling to the Free Cities to stock up on necessities.”

“I did not know he had business there,” he frowns.

“I assume he trades with them,” the girl shrugs and continues, “It makes sense to manage the resources now.”

“I know,” he nods, “We will store everything close to the capital, for when the snow falls, the kingsroad will be nearly impossible to traverse, and supplies will not arrive frequently. The city will certainly need extra food and we will need to ration it.”

“Yes, you are right,” Rhaena takes another drink from her goblet, and clears her throat, “And since you mention the city, there is something I wanted to consult with you about.”

Aemond nods, staring at her and letting her know he has her attention. Rhaena sighs and speaks, “Your mother came to see me this afternoon.”

The prince frowns. His mother had also approached him on his way out of the council meeting to ask him not to call Rhaena to his chambers until the discomfort of the first night had passed.

“She told me she plans to retire from social life and wanted me to take over her duties.”

Aemond raises his eyebrows. While he is not surprised that his mother has delegated the few tasks that kept her busy to Rhaena, he imagined that Alicent would wait a little longer before making official her release from her obligations to the Crown.

“And what did you say?”

“Well… I accepted, of course, it is an honor but…” she shrugs and frowns, confused, “I just don’t know if I should have. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for Queen Ellyn to take her place? I do not want to cause any misunderstandings between the royal family."

Aemond snorts, "Ellyn Baratheon only has a head for parties and spending the crown's money. I do not think she is worried about you taking over my mother’s duties. She will certainly be relieved by the news.”

“You think so?” Rhaena still looks unsure, “It is probably wise to talk to her first before making a decision.”

“If it’s going to make you feel better, then do it,” Aemond brings the last bite of his dinner to his mouth, “But you shouldn’t waste the opportunity my mother is offering you. Weren’t you looking for more responsibility?”

“Yes, of course,” she nods.

“Besides, you are much more suited to this than our queen,” he comments without thinking much about his words, “You proved your efficiency before the wedding and the common people appreciate you.”

A genuine, pleased smile spreads across Rhaena’s face. A smile that makes his heart skip a beat, sending a warm feeling through his body.

“Thank you, Aemond,” his wife replies, lowering her gaze for a moment before facing him again, “I think I will take you at your word and move forward with this new position.”

The excitement is palpable in her voice and Aemond, still wanting to keep that smile on her face, continues speaking, “Lord Lannister said that the entire town came out to share the food after the banquet, your idea was very well received by the people of the city.”

“Really?” Rhaena jumps up in her chair, “Oh, I would have loved to see it myself. I know I still have to stay here for a few days, so I will use this time to think about…”

“You don’t need to be locked up here in the Tower,” he interrupts her, “If I am back to my duties, you can do so too. Feel free to continue your routine as normal as before.”

Rhaena feels her heart beat wildly with relief and joy at hearing his words. Restraining the sudden, crazy urge to leave her chair and hug Aemond, she simply settles for smiling and continuing to chat about insignificant details of her new quarters, too nervous to stop talking. When the servants clear their plates a while later, Aemond stands and she follows suit.

“I suppose I should be going,” she says, fiddling with the rings on her hands.

“It is late,” the prince nods, his good eye fixed on her.

Rhaena nods as well and bows, ready to leave the room. It is then that she remembers her initial intention of handing him the handkerchief.

“By the way,” she says, removing the item from the pocket of the skirt of her dress, “I wanted to give you this. I finished embroidering it a little while ago, and thought you might like to have it.”

Aemond reaches out to take the soft fabric from his cousin. Examining it, he finds the embroidery of a green dragon in flight.

“It is Vhagar.”

The prince nods, his thumb running over the fine detail created by his cousin, feeling once again overcome by that unusual warmth that rises in his chest. Aemond clears his throat, aware that he should thank her for the detail, but other words come out of his mouth.

“My mother said I should give you space after our wedding night.”

Rhaena parts her lips, surely surprised by his comment, “Yes, she uh… it was very thoughtful of her to think of that.”

Aemond watches her expression, believing – or perhaps imagining – the disappointment in her voice at the dowager queen’s recommendation.

“Mmm,” he looks back down at the embroidered image of Vhagar and then back at his cousin, “Are you feeling too sore?”

Rhaena bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, “No, not really.”

“Good.”

In one deft move he grabs her wrist, pulling her closer to his body and bringing their lips together.

Rhaena immediately melts into his kiss, closing her eyes and marveling at the sweet scent of wine on the prince’s breath. When Aemond’s tongue tentatively brushes her lips, she gasps and grants him the access he desires, allowing him to explore her mouth freely.

Aemond breaks contact after a few seconds, though his face remains very close to Rhaena's, their breathing still labored. When she opens her eyes, she meets her cousin's lustful gaze and swallows, though she instinctively presses herself even closer to his body. Aemond shudders and sighs before interlacing their hands and leading her to his room.

When the door closes behind them, Aemond kisses her again. Only this time his lips move down her jaw to her neck. Rhaena tilts her face so he can freely access her skin, gasping when her cousin's teeth nibble at the sensitive area. His name escapes her lips and suddenly Aemond is behind her, still exploring her skin exposed by the dress while his hands loosen the ribbons holding the garment together.

“Aemond…”

She is not sure what she is going to say, but her protests are silenced by another of his kisses as the heavy dress falls to her feet, leaving her in only her white undergown.

Feeling exposed once again, her hands settle on the prince’s chest, wanting to remove the black leather jacket he is wearing, but not daring to. Aemond, understanding what she is up to, helps her do so.

Rhaena steps away from the prince for a few seconds and looks at his bare chest, his thin but strong arms, his muscles marked on his abdomen. She hadn't been able to appreciate them the night before and now she is dying to touch them, but once again, she doesn't dare to do so.

Aemond pulls her back against his body and kisses her while forcing her back until they fall on the bed. Instead of placing himself on top of her, the prince kneels beside her and his hands hold her calves, moving his hands up her thighs, separating them.

Rhaena sighs and clings to the sheets when suddenly she feels the prince's lips on the inside of her thighs, kissing her a few times before his caresses rise until they reach the place that cries out for his attention.

Moaning at the intense sensation of Aemond’s tongue dancing at the center of her womanhood, she tries to simply relax and lose herself in his touch, in the climax building within her, in how good it feels when she opens her eyes and sees her husband’s head between her legs.

“Aemond!”

Her voice is broken and that's all she can say before she loses herself in pleasure again.

Aemond doesn't let her recover, but instead kisses his way up her body until he's positioned and buried inside her.

Rhaena closes her eyes and bites her lips to contain the uncomfortable gasp she feels at the still new sensation of invasion and being stretched.

Aemond takes one of her knees and bends it, changing the angle and reaching deeper inside her, managing to touch a place inside her that makes the pleasure start to rise again.

The prince thrusts into her harder and harder, and Rhaena tries to move with him, her hands wanting to explore his body, but content to place them on his shoulders as their mouths meet again.

It isn't long before she once again reaches that peak state of pleasure, moaning into Aemond's mouth, who seems to absorb her sounds of pleasure. A few seconds later, the prince clings tightly to her body as he spills inside her as well.

Once again there is a moment of awkwardness, of uncertainty as he pulls away from her body. Rhaena sits up in bed and hugs her knees. Aemond reaches out his hand to her and helps her up. A lump forms in her throat when she thinks he is going to ask her to leave, but the prince merely pulls the covers off the bed and blows out the candles that are still lit.

Hesitating for a moment, but finally gathering courage, she climbs back into bed and covers herself with the sheets. Aemond mimics her action and, feeling brave again, Rhaena reaches for his hand. The prince is soon lacing their fingers together and caressing the inside of her palm until, suddenly exhausted, Rhaena succumbs to sleep.

He, however, cannot sleep.

Turning to his side and taking advantage of the moonlight, he watches Rhaena sleep peacefully.

Part of him, one he is struggling to ignore, wants to come closer to the girl and hold her, breathe in her rose-like scent and bury his nose in her curls.

He does none of that.

He doesn't have to do any of that. He doesn't even have to want to do it.

Rhaena is his wife, yes, but nothing more. Their union is political and there must be no feelings between them other than respect. It is convenient to have her around, to make her the mother of the future heirs, and to use her political power. But to expect something more? To seek something more?

No.

That should be out of the question.

Rhaena Targaryen was only a means to an end and that was the way it had to stay. Allowing himself to have feelings for her is dangerous. It is unpredictable and it's backfired on him in the past. And he wasn't about to make a fool of himself again.

This is the last time, he tells himself. You won't call her to your chambers again until it's absolutely necessary.

So, summoning every ounce of willpower he has, he stands, dresses and finds another room to spend the night in.

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“The king has summoned you to his chambers, Your Grace.”

The young queen’s heart began to pound at the words her maid had just told her.

What could her husband want with her right now? He had not bothered to visit her – not that she would blame him considering he was bedridden – nor send a message after the baby situation. He had not asked her to see him when, surely, he had been informed that she could already take care of herself. So why call now? Just when she was on her way to the royal hall for the banquet after the wedding. Surely, he couldn’t want her to share his bed. Or could he? Not at this hour… not that that would have stopped him before, but… there was no reason for him to look for her anymore. She could not have children anymore, the maester and the midwives had said that the damage had been greater than they initially thought and she hadn’t stopped bleeding for weeks…

Ellyn clears her throat and closes her eyes for a moment to push those memories away. It is not worth thinking about. Not now. Not ever.

Taking one last look at the mirror and finding her proper appearance, she leaves her room and walks the few meters that separate her from her royal husband's. The guards greet her with a bow and open the doors, announcing her.

“Ah, there you are!”

To the queen's surprise, her husband is sitting on his wooden litter, wearing royal robes and his crown of Valyrian steel and rubies on his head.

“Your Grace,” she greets, approaching him, heart still beating strongly and trying not to make eye contact with Aegon. She does not know if she will like what she will find in them, “You sent for me.”

“Yes, I thought it best that we both enter the banquet together.”

“Will you go to the banquet?”

She cannot help but look up at the surprise she feels at the news.

“Did you not hear me?” the ever-present tone of exasperation in the king’s voice reaches her. His violet eyes scan her with an expression that is half frustration and half amusement, as if he does not know exactly what to make of her, “Of course I will go to the feast. It is my brother’s wedding.”

Ellyn does not answer, she simply nods.

“Were you in the Great Sept?”

“No, I felt a little under the weather this morning,” she lies. She does not like septs, the smell of incense, or the sermons of the religious. She’d had enough of them during her convalescence, she’d heard the repetitive words of comfort and resignation and she was sick of them.

“Of course,” Aegon grimaces, “Come on, then.”

The king gives an order and four guards take charge of lifting the litter. Ellyn stands beside him, walking at the same pace as them and trying to mentally prepare herself for what awaits her.

Her first time facing the court after the loss of the baby.

It is no coincidence that she chose this ceremony where, she hopes, all eyes will be focused only on the Lady Rhaena and Prince Aemond. Where she hopes to remain as unnoticed as a queen can be. It is a foolish idea, perhaps, but she cannot extend her absence from royal engagements any further, not unless she wants more rumors to start or to simply be relegated to being another figurehead in the Keep.

As if you weren’t already.

Ellyn sighs and raises her head as the double doors of the hall open, moving forward without looking at anyone in particular as they make their way to the head table. The bride and groom have not arrived yet, though the dowager queen is already in her place, as is Prince Daeron. Against her better judgment, her eyes meet those of her brother-in-law, who seems as surprised as everyone else to see her, though a smile spreads across his handsome face.

The young queen quickly looks away, and sits down in her assigned place next to her husband, who promptly orders wine. Ellyn sips from her goblet as well, and is thankful that it is not too long before the doors open again and the newlyweds enter the hall, walking close to each other but not touching.

Rhaena Targaryen is, the queen thinks, exactly as she imagined her. Slender and beautiful, with that Valyrian charm she knows well, and that seems to draw everyone in the hall. The court erupts in cheers as the newlywed couple walks to the center table to greet the king and queen.

“Cousin Rhaena,” Aegon smirks, “We finally meet again!”

Rhaena’s expression is one of calculated kindness and serenity, as Ellyn can tell.

“Cousin,” she greets, “It’s been a while, but I am glad to find you in good health and spirits.”

Ellyn raises her eyebrows at her, and if she notices, she says nothing, her gaze focused somewhere between the ground and the king.

“So… you are now husband and wife,” Aegon laughs and sips from his goblet, “The hope of the realm! I expect for you two to have better luck than my dear queen and I in that regard.”

Aegon pats his wife’s shoulder carelessly, pointing at her, and the gazes of the new princes focus on her, though Ellyn ignores them, trying to remain composed.

“Thank you for your good wishes, Your Grace,” Rhaena replies.

“Show your gratitude having a son to be my heir,” Aegon points out, adding sarcastically, “Since my wife was unable to do so.”

Do not let his words affect you, do not let his…

“Maybe you should stop drinking so much and watch your words, brother.”

It is not Aemond who speaks, but Daeron. His voice, lacking its usual gentle tone, leaves them all at a loss for words for a moment. Ellyn does not dare look at him, though she feels her brother-in-law’s gaze on her.

“Enough,” the dowager queen interjects, “Aemond, Rhaena, sit down, our guests surely wish to congratulate you. Daeron, you…”

Ellyn does not hear what the dowager queen says to her son, she only notices that, a few moments later, Daeron stands up and walks off somewhere.

Nobles begin to arrive like flies drawn to honey, reciting polite words to the kings before turning their full attention to Rhaena and Aemond. Mostly Rhaena.

“Aren’t they going to dance?” she asks Aegon when the greeting line finally ends, and the couple is still at the table.

The king lets out a mocking chuckle, “Have you ever seen Aemond dance?”

No. Of course not. Although she had thought that, since it was his wedding, the prince would make an exception.

Nonsense.

Illusions, like the ones she had had when her father had decided to marry her to the king. Foolish illusions that she had harbored in her heart because, arrogant as she was, she had believed herself superior to her sisters because she was going to get married. Because she would be queen. Because her children would sit on the Iron Throne while they remained single.

Stupid girl.

She had arrived in the capital and, although her husband bore the scars of dragonfire, she had found him handsome enough that she had not been disgusted on their wedding night. Besides, Aegon had been patient and, over time, she had even come to find a certain comfort at his side. He was not a terrible husband, he expected nothing more from her than an heir and he did not subject her to his presence continually. So, Ellyn had enjoyed her freedom and delighted in making the Red Keep her entertainment center, filling the nights with dancing, gatherings, puppet shows, and music. She was the queen, after all. She was young, beautiful, and entitled to enjoy her new position.

It hadn't lasted long. The novelty had worn off, and after losing her first baby, she had taken out her frustration on her ladies, forcing them to compete with each other for her attention, for her favors, alienating those who said something she didn't like or who were simply not worthy enough of her time.

It all seemed so ridiculous now. She had been so frivolous, so foolish... and what had she gotten out of it? Nothing but the false affection of the courtiers. Affection that had vanished when it became clear that she was now nothing more than a queen for show, with nothing to contribute or anything to benefit them. Would that happen to Rhaena too? Her blue eyes travel to those of the new princess, who delicately eats from the plate in front of her. The queen watches her for a few more seconds before turning her gaze to the rest of the room. Several nobles are already dancing in the center, including Lady Marianne Westerling and Daeron.

“They have my approval.”

Her husband’s voice makes her look away, “What?”

“My brother and the Westerling girl. They have my approval to marry,” he explains.

“Oh,” Ellyn tries to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach that the news brings, “I did not know Prince Daeron had an interest in Lady Marianne.”

Liar.

“It is convenient, don’t you think?”

“Of course. A young, noble lady is just what your brother deserves,” she nods, looking away.

A noble lady. Untethered. Unblemished and unbroken.

The complete opposite of her.

The thought makes her heart ache and her eyes sting, but she forces herself to keep watching them dance because the next wedding she attends will probably be theirs.

And there is nothing she can do about it.

~~~

Rhaena doesn’t really know what to do.

If this were any other banquet, she’d probably be dancing already.

But this is her wedding celebration. And since arriving from the Sept, she’s done nothing but sit at the center table next to Aemond.

Her husband.

The thought still sends shivers down her spine, as if she hasn’t grasped what it means. And, really, she hasn’t. Not yet.

“I think I’ll go say hello to Marianne.”

Aemond meets her eyes for an instant before they drift to one of the nearby tables, where her friend is deep in conversation with Daeron.

“Are you looking forward to interrupting the happy couple?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and adding, “Or do you wish to get away from your husband’s presence already?”

Despite his question, there is a hint of amusement in his voice and Rhaena notices that the corners of his lips are turned up, as if he is struggling not to smile.

“Perhaps,” she replies, offering him a half-smile before standing up and walking around the table so she can reach her friend. Only, as she does so, she is interrupted by Alyn Velaryon.

“Cousin,” she can’t contain the look of exasperation she gives him, what could he possibly want now? But it’s not like she can just ignore him, such rudeness wouldn’t go unnoticed and she doesn’t want to give rise to any potential rumors or malicious comments.

“I know you are probably sick of seeing me already,” the man says, “But I was hoping you could dance with me considering I am leaving for Driftmark in the morrow.”

“You are leaving? So soon?” the amazement is clear in her voice.

“I’ve done what I needed to do here,” he nods, “The island needs me now. I will be leaving shortly for the Free Cities, and there are many details to sort out.”

“Following in our grandsire’s footsteps?” she asks as she takes his hand and leads him over to where the other guests are dancing.

“Not at all,” Alyn smiles, “It is purely a trade trip. With winter approaching, we need to stock up on supplies.”

“A most sensible plan,” Rhaena bows and they begin to dance.

“Rhaena I… uh…” Alyn clears his throat, “I have a message from Baela. She… asked me to remind you of the last conversation you two had, especially about her… recommendation and the directions she gave you for after your wedding night.”

The girl feels her cheeks heat up, “Do not worry, cousin, I remember my sister’s words well. Please let her know that I will act as I see fit.”

There are a few seconds of awkward silence until Alyn sighs, “I am sorry, Rhaena, please don’t be angry with Baela. Or with me. Your sister only wants the best for you, I know this situation is difficult, but we are both trying to protect you.”

“Oh is that so?” Rhaena raises her eyebrows at him, “I am sorry, cousin, it is just that all this sudden worrying takes me by surprise.”

“I made a promise to our grandsire, I swore to take care of you two.”

“You certainly took good care of Baela,” she points out, “As for me… I was clearly not your priority considering you left me as a guest in the Vale, exiled from the only family I had left in the world.”

 “Rhaena…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she raises her hand to silence him, but he cuts her off.

“I tried, I really did,” he assures her, “I wanted to bring you back, but you should know that it was much more convenient for them to keep you apart, it was easier that way. Besides, I was in no position to make demands.”

Alyn is right. She knows that his reasons are justifiable, as a young lord of questionable origin, he did not have much influence at court even though he had been accepted by Lord Corlys, yet…

“It does not matter, really,” she answers, trying to calm herself, “You are going to return to Driftmark and I’ll be here, with my new husband. And besides, it is not that bad. He is not that bad, I know he doesn’t give that impression, but… I’ll be fine. I think I can be…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, she just makes a vague gesture with her hand, and holds her cousin’s gaze. “Now I understand why Baela seemed so alarmed when she mentioned your feelings for the prince.”

“I have no feelings for the prince.”

Alyn sighs, and for some reason, that gesture irritates her.

“Just keep in mind that he is not a good man. He is not honorable and you cannot trust him. Aemond Targaryen will always look out for his own benefit, not yours. He will not support you or protect you if the… pieces on the board change. His priority will always be his family and you are not part of it, Rhaena. You are just a means to an end, that is how they all see you,” his gaze takes in the high table, “At the end of the day, remember that your true allies are Baela and I. Your true family.”

Her words cause his heart to sink and a bitter feeling to creep through her body.

“From your words, I see that my sister has clearly made you a party to her foolish expectations of a… resurgence of our side or whatever. Do not encourage her. If you love her as you truly claim to do, then put those crazy ideas out of her mind. We are not at war. We do not need war. Leave all that behind and just live in peace. I would not like to lose my sister because of her desire to pursue a utopia”

“You won’t,” he assures her, “And it is not a utopia. Just…remember our words. Don’t trust the prince, trust only yourself. It won’t be too long until you can be free of him, and when that happens, I truly hope that you can then find someone who will give you as much joy as Baela and I feel.”

As Baela and I feel.

The words echo in her mind, and far from cheering her up or relieving her, they only make her resent her cousin and sister more.

“Goodbye, cousin, I wish you a safe journey home.”

Without waiting for Alyn to respond, she turns her back and walks toward the central table.

Aemond meets her gaze as she climbs the stone steps, his expression quickly letting her know that he knows something has upset her.

“What is it?” he asks quietly when she reaches him.

“I’m just tired,” she shakes her head.

“Mmm,” the prince studies her for a few more seconds before turning to the king and his mother, “Rhaena and I will retire.”

“Good! We can begin the bedding ceremony,” Aegon chuckles.

Rhaena feels the color drain from her body and her hands begin to tremble slightly. She hasn’t thought about that part of the wedding. Was she going to have to endure the nobles stripping her and carrying her to the Tower of the Hand? The thought alone makes her gag.

“My wife and I will go alone to our chambers.”

Aemond doesn’t need to raise his voice for his words to have the desired effect and for his brother to give up on the subject. Relief spreads through her and Rhaena manages to breathe normally again.

***

Despite what Aemond says, they are not alone on their way to the Tower.

Guards, maids, pages, and noble ladies – Marianne among them – follow them.

Upon reaching the prince’s chambers, Aemond gives her a quick glance before entering them. Rhaena, meanwhile, is led down a different corridor to new rooms that will be for her use only.

“This is nice,” Marianne comments after examining the chamber

The girl nods. The rooms are spacious and she even has her own private room. Her eyes quickly search for her dragon, finding her sleeping near the fireplace, as is her custom. Morning’s presence eases her heart, so she goes to her and briefly strokes her scales, delighting in the warmth the creature gives off.

“We should not keep the prince waiting, my lady.”

Rhaena raises her face to a middle-aged woman she doesn’t recognize, “Are you my new maid?”

“Yes, my lady, I will assist you in whatever you need.”

“What is your name?”

“I am Nelly, ma’am.”

“Nelly,” Rhaena nods and stands up, approaching her new maid, who looks at Morning with a mix of fear and distrust, “Do not worry, you will not be tending her. I will personally take care of my dragon.”

The maid lowers her gaze and Rhaena enters the room, sitting in front of the dressing table and letting the women begin to work on removing the tiara from her head while others remove her heavy dress and help her cool down, as well as placing rose oil on her skin and hair before putting an ivory silk nightgown over her head that is quite a bit more revealing than what she usually wears at night.

When Rhaena looks at her reflection in the mirror, her hands begin to shake again and her expression must be one of terror, because Marianne rushes to get the maids out of the room.

“Out, all of you.”

Once they are alone, Rhaena turns to her friend, “Am I supposed to go to his chambers wearing this?”

“It is… different, but pretty,” Marianne bites her lip and sighs, “I guess it is normal for a married woman to wear this kind of attire.”

Rhaena gulps. Married woman. About to go on her wedding night. That’s just what she is.

“I can’t do it,” she says quietly, terrified, “I don’t think… I don’t think I can do… what I’m supposed to do.”

“Can we run away?” her lady’s proposal sounds more like a question, “The Keep is huge, we could try.”

Rhaena hugs her friend, allowing her closeness to reassure her. As scared as she is, she knows she will have to face what comes next.

It is just one night. Nothing more. How bad can it be?

She prefers not to think about it.

The knocks of the guards on the door separate them and one of them announces that he must take her to Aemond’s room.

“Rhaena”

“I will be fine,” she says, trying to sound convincing, “Everything will be fine.”

“Call for me if you need me. Any time. I will be here.”

“I know,” she assures her, and hugs Marianne’s one last time before following the guards.

The halls of the Tower of the Hand are narrow, cold, and unfamiliar to Rhaena. Her heart pounds as the man stops in front of a massive door and, without knocking, opens it for her to enter.

The guards say nothing more, just close the door behind her, and Rhaena stands by the door, motionless. Or perhaps waiting for Aemond to say something to her. But there is only silence.

“Aemond?” she dares to call out in a shaky voice.

She receives no answer.

He is not there. Or, at least, not yet.

Feeling calmer for having those few minutes of solitude, Rhaena walks deeper into the room. The fireplace is the only source of light, though she can see several details such as the massive stone walls filled with shelves of books and scrolls. Rhaena looks up at the vaulted ceiling that seems to be decorated with patterns that the dim lighting doesn't allow her to make out. There's also a huge tapestry on one of the walls that looks like a map, though she doesn't linger on it too long as she walks to the windows, marveling at the view of the Blackwater. Would the ones in her room have a similar view?

Her ramblings stop when the door opens and closes an instant later.

Rhaena swallows.

She doesn't have to turn around to know who it is.

Besides, she doesn't want to turn around.

The prince doesn't say anything, but it's not long before she can hear his footsteps approaching, stopping right behind her, his presence very close, so close that she can smell his perfume. Rhaena closes her eyes and breathes in his scent, trying to calm the violent beating of her heart and the nerves she feels at being alone with him.

Your husband.

The thought makes her shudder.

“Are you afraid?” Aemond’s voice is almost a whisper, but it sounds so close to her ear that she shudders again.

“No,” she lies, “Should I be?”

“Mmm,” the prince’s hands move up from her elbows to her bare shoulders, “Only if you have something to hide.”

Rhaena takes the implication in his words. Suddenly annoyed, she turns and faces him, glaring, “I have nothing to hide,” she retorts fiercely, “I am still a maiden.”

“I suppose I’m about to find out.”

Aemond shifts his gaze to Rhaena’s lips and lowers his face to hers, ready to kiss her. Rhaena places a hand on his chest and pulls back, “No. Not unless I get from you what you ask of me.”

Clearly her refusal irritates the prince, but she holds his gaze and takes a few steps back, moving away from his proximity.

“It was never serious,” he finally says, “I don’t even know her name. She was just some… distraction.”

“Yet you only visited her.”

It is not until she says it out loud and hears the reproach in her voice that Rhaena understands how much it really affects her to think that, perhaps, she will have to share the prince with this woman.

“I am selfish, I don’t like to share,” he replies, echoing her own thoughts from just seconds ago.

“Well, neither do I.”

A half-smile appears on Aemond’s face and Rhaena feels her cheeks flush. Still, it’s not enough. Not yet. “No more distractions from today.”

Just me.

For a moment, she thinks he won’t accept what her words imply.

After long seconds, he finally nods, “No more distractions.”

“Good”

“Good”

They both look at each other and, she doesn’t know who advances first, but they close the distance between them.

Rhaena feels Aemond place his hands on either side of her cheeks before his lips rest on hers. Closing her eyes instinctively, she feels the prince's mouth move over hers fiercely and determinedly, with a kind of hunger that she also feels and that leads her to move her hands and caress Aemond's torso, moving up to his shoulders and the back of his neck, tangling them in his silky platinum hair.

The prince breaks the kiss, but Rhaena doesn't dare open her eyes, she just lets him take her by the waist and lift her up, moving towards some part of the room that ends up being his bed. When she is finally lying on the soft bed, she dares to open her eyes, meeting Aemond's gaze. Meeting his blue eye that now seems almost black with desire. He doesn't give her time to say anything because he's kissing her again and any coherent thoughts leave her head when his lips move down her jaw to her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that only ignite the fire she feels inside her.

“Aemond,” his name slips from her lips as the prince’s hands caress her breasts over the fabric of her nightgown, circling her nipples as if playing with them, causing them to harden. His skilled fingers are quick to untie the knot of the garment, exposing them to his gaze. Rhaena tries to cover herself with one of her hands, embarrassed by her nakedness, but Aemond stops her by holding her arms above her head before bringing his lips to her nipples, licking them delicately and causing a renewed feeling of heat to begin to form between her legs.

Rhaena gasps his name again and Aemond lets go of her arms, bringing his free hand up to slip it under her gown, lifting it and moving up to reach her thighs, caressing the soft skin of her legs. Aemond suppresses a sound of satisfaction when his fingers move up to reach that wet place between her legs.

“No… I don’t think you should…”

Rhaena’s refusal is cut off as he strokes her intimacy, his long fingers working their way through her folds. What are these sensations she is experiencing? This kind of desire that builds as Aemond’s fingers move over her womanhood. Something seems to be building inside her, a kind of pleasure that builds up and threatens to explode.

“Aemond… no… I…”

A sigh of pleasure leaves her lips as the sensation reaches its peak, and she closes her eyes, breathing raggedly as she grips the sheets.

The prince moves away from her side and, fearfully, Rhaena watches him remove his pants until he is bare from the waist down. Although she tries not to, her eyes stray to his manhood, finding it large and terrifying.

“Rhaena”

There is something different about the way he calls her name. She watches him stroke his hand over his member as he stares at her, lying on the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her lips swollen from his kisses. Reveling in her presence in his bed, he moves his hand up and down his length, before moving back to the bed and approaching her, this time placing his hands on her knees, gently parting them.

Rhaena swallows hard, but lets him position himself over her, feeling the heat of his body on hers.

“Finally,” Aemond whispers as he lifts the nightgown to align their bodies.

Rhaena closes her eyes as she feels the tip of his member brushing against her intimacy, biting her bottom lip to keep from letting out the sounds that struggle to escape her.

“Let me hear you,” the prince says, releasing her lip with his fingers.

The girl gasps and, unable to help herself, she kisses him, seeking contact with his lips, trying to let herself be carried away by his caresses, by his hands squeezing her breasts and his tongue exploring her mouth, by the way the heat of his body overwhelms her, by the wave of pleasure she feels when he brushes all her intimacy with his member.

Moans fill the room and, when he finally begins to enter her, a sharp pain runs through her interior. Aemond kisses her harder and stops, remaining still inside her until the expression of pain leaves Rhaena's face.

“I'm fine,” she assures with a gasp, “Just…”

Aemond nods and begins to move once more.

Her hands grip at his sides as she tries to move in time with him, trying to meet his thrusts, needing his touch. Aemond buries his face in her neck, nibbling at it, his thrusts becoming frantic. Their pleasure builds until finally, the climax overwhelms her again, causing her to arch off the bed as she feels Aemond still on top of her, repeating her name like a prayer.

For a few moments they stay like that, motionless, he still inside her, breathing raggedly. When the weight of his body on hers begins to become painful, the prince moves and slowly pulls out of her before dropping to the other side of the bed.

Silence falls between them and Rhaena, unable to say anything or even look at him, wonders what she should do. Will they spend the night together? Will he ask her to go back to her chambers?

In the end, they just stay like that, close to each other, although not touching or speaking, until Aemond's hand finds Rhaena's and intertwines their fingers, the gesture causing the beginnings of a smile to appear on the girl's lips.

***

Rhaena is alone in the room when she wakes up.

Confused and not quite recognizing the place, she sits up in bed and is aware of the burning between her legs.

Then she remembers the night before and, even though she is alone, she feels ashamed.

She had slept next to Aemond. Next to her husband. She had survived the dreaded wedding night and, if she was honest with herself, it had been better than she expected.

Still…

Waking up alone left a bad taste in her mouth.

“He probably had other obligations to fulfill,” she says quietly as she gets out of bed, trying to walk slowly despite the discomfort and pain.

Rhaena orders one of the guards to call her maid, and a short while later, the woman has a bath ready for her.

“Thank you, you may go,” she says before stepping into the tub.

The hot water relaxes her muscles, and Rhaena washes herself slowly, removing the sweat and traces of dried blood between her thighs.

As she finishes drying herself, there is a knock at the door and a maid – a different one than the ones who have served her so far – appears with a cup of tea.

“Your tea, ma’am.”

“I did not ask for an infusion,” she says, confused.

“It is from your sister,” the young woman hands her the cup.

There are a few seconds of hesitation on her part before she receives the cup. Rhaena sniffs the contents and grimaces.

“You should drink it as soon as possible, ma’am,” the young woman dares to say.

Rhaena nods, but still, she doesn't.

The maid looks at her expectantly, clearly not intending to leave, and Rhaena is starting to get impatient. Had her sister ordered her to make sure she actually drink the tea?

“Thank you, you may go.”

“Madam, the tea…”

“Go.”

Her commanding voice leaves no room for rebuttal. The maid, suddenly frightened, lowers her head and leaves.

Once alone, she looks at the cup again and wonders if she should drink its contents.

Baela seemed to think that she should do so. Baela simply assumed that she shouldn't give Aemond a child, not only because of her senseless plans, but because of the whole history of pain and death between them.

And she was right, wasn't she?

Sighing, she brings the cup to her lips and manages to take two sips before feeling she will throw up.

No.

She can't do it.

Without thinking too much, she stands up and throws the contents of the cup into the fireplace.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@user05152535456 @pugetprincess @draftswriting @hopefulnovelwritingland @maymunahar @niocel @goldenjoyboyy @gracelessbeach @jenmakeusin10 @dagma18 @atargcvnt @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @ammo23 @qyburnsghost @ithoughtulikedme @avidreader73 @feyresqueen @zeroinetoheroine @dragontwinsfireandblood

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Aemond does not return to the arena.

It is obvious the prince has left the tournament as the minutes tick by and he doesn’t show up, so the competitions resume, and in the end a minor lord from the Riverlands is the winner.

Not that Rhaena has been paying much attention, her mind on the tents where Aemond and Corwyn are surely being tended to.

“Congratulations, ser, and good fortune,” she says mechanically as the knight approaches to pay his respects, thus signaling the end of the tournament.

Finally.

Rhaena doesn’t wait long to step off the platform and cross the grounds on her way to the competitors’ tents. Though the common folk call her name, wanting her attention, she barely raises a hand in their direction, uncaring of the snub. She has to…

She pauses.

Where should she go first?

The two directions open before her. She knows the prince’s tent is to her left, separate from the ones for the other lords’. Eventually, she takes the right direction, moving through the tents and checking the banners, in case any of them give her an indication of who are inside.

“May I help you, my lady?”

A young man looks at her curiously. Rhaena stops and looks at him, “Are you a maester?”

“Indeed, my lady.”

“Are you tending to the wounded knights?” When he nods, she continues, “Have you tended ser Corwyn Corbray?”

“Just recently, my lady.”

“And how is he?”

“He will survive,” the young man frowns, “The only serious wound is the one on his side, but it will heal well with proper care. Would you like me to take you to him?”

There is a moment of hesitation on her part, “No. There is no need, I merely wanted to hear from him,” she sighs, “I imagine he will be taken to the castle to continue his recovery.”

“When he awakens from the sleep of the milk of the poppy, yes, my lady.”

Rhaena nods, “Thank you, maester. You have been very kind.”

She is about to turn away, when the young man speaks again, “Should I… should I let Ser Corwyn know that you asked for him?”

“No, as I said, there is no need.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turns and strides to Aemond’s tent.

***

“At least you had the good sense to withdraw before killing someone.”

His mother’s voice – or rather her complaints – only worsen the headache he feels throbbing in his temples.

“We can still attribute your behavior to some sort of… need to prove yourself or your worth as a warrior in a tournament being held in your honor,” the dowager queen continues, looking at him with a mix of disapproval and anxiety.

“It is irrelevant what the Court think,” he says quietly, the pain in his jaw beginning to show. That fucking Corbray had managed to hit him hard before he could push him away, “They wanted a good show and that’s what I gave them.”

“And since when do you insist on pleasing the common people?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to get more involved?”

“Not like this!”

His mother sighs, clearly exasperated with his attitude. The prince thinks there is a certain tone of suspicion in her claims, as if Alicent somehow sensed that something else motivated him to participate in the ridiculous tournament, but she does not press for answers. Still, she approaches the improvised bed where he is sitting and takes the clean cloth that the maester has left while he prepares an infusion for Aemond, and wets it in water, approaching her son and delicately placing her hands on his cheek.

The prince wants to murmur a thank you as he feels the cloth clean his wounds, but he cannot. He only limits himself to observing his mother’s still beautiful face, expression concentrated, cleaning the traces of blood, dirt and sweat that are surely stuck to his skin.

“If only you could see yourself!” sighs the queen, “The bruises will soon appear, how will you enter the Great Sept tomorrow in this state? Your handsome face is…”

“You are the only one who finds me handsome,” he interrupts her.

His mother’s response is interrupted by the arrival of his betrothed.

“Queen Alicent,” she greets, walking to a stop a few feet from them. His mother puts aside her task to turn to Rhaena, “Cousin, how are you feeling?”

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, but he doesn’t respond. It’s his mother who speaks, “The prince only suffered superficial wounds, thank the gods.”

“Thank the gods,” Rhaena repeats.

An awkward silence falls between the three of them. Aemond, who can’t speak freely, not in front of his mother, is about to say something when Rhaena intervenes again.

“Your Grace, do you think I can talk to my cousin? Alone.”

His mother, clearly intrigued, looks at both of them, searching for an answer, “I don’t know how appropriate that is.”

“Mother, go find the maester. Our conversation won’t take long,” Aemond’s voice is almost an order.

Alicent grimaces, but doesn’t protest, “I will be back soon.”

Rhaena murmurs a thank you and watches the dowager queen leave the tent before turning to him.

“You took your time before coming and fulfilling your duty to ask for my health.”

The bitterness, much to Aemond’s irritation, is clear in his voice. So is the insinuation and suspicion in his words, which is not lost on Rhaena.

“I assure you cousin, I did not visit him, if that is what you imagine.”

“You did not? Were you not crying at the foot of his bed?”

Rhaena presses her lips into a thin line and tilts her face to the side, clearly annoyed, but ultimately just shakes her head.

“No, though I admit I did inquire about his injuries.”

“Ah,” he smirks at her, “Of course.”

Rhaena takes a tentative step toward him, her hands fiddling with the hems of her dress, “I wanted… I wanted to thank you for not killing him.”

“I was tempted to.”

“But you did not, and I appreciate that.”

Her voice sounds so full of relief, Aemond hates to hear it, so he looks away and down at his hands still red and sore from this morning’s effort, his knuckles cracked from the force with which he had delivered the last blow.

“I imagine you did not enjoy the show as worried as you were for the life of your lover?”

“He was never my lover. And my concern was not exclusively for him.”

“Was it not?”

“No,” she answers almost fiercely, taking a step closer to the prince

“Well, I do not need you to worry about me,” he replies harshly.

No. You don’t need it, but you crave it. You desperately crave for her to… care about you, that voice whispers in his mind.

“Too bad I do. I care what happens to you.”

Aemond only shudders at the words that until a moment ago echoed in his mind.

“Out of obligation?”

“No,” Rhaena takes another step and they are now very close, so close that her dress brushes the destroyed fabric of his pants. She positions herself between his legs and, since the prince is tall, their faces are almost at the same height, “Because I was beginning to enjoy your company and our time together.”

At that, Aemond does not know what to say. Their gazes remain locked for a moment, until Rhaena takes the cloth that Alicent has left, wets it and looks at her cousin, asking with her eyes if she can continue cleaning him. He nods, hating himself, but longing for her touch.

“Does it hurt?” her question is almost a whisper, her small hands delicately fulfilling their task.

“Nothing I cannot handle.”

He is tempted to make a sardonic comment about Corbray’s lack of strength, but prefers to remain silent.

Rhaena nods, and for a moment he closes his good eye and enjoys her ministrations, her fingers brushing the skin of his cheeks, her familiar scent washing over him as they are so close that if he leans forward a little further, he would be able to touch her lips.

“And here?” The prince opens his eye when he feels Rhaena’s hand rest on his chest, over his heart. He looks at her with a confused expression, “Are you happy after taking out your anger on him?”

It doesn’t escape Aemond’s notice that his cousin hasn’t mentioned Corbray’s name out loud. And that, in a way, pleases him, so he decides to be honest.

“Partly, yes,” he answers in the same low tone of voice, “Though I would have been more satisfied if I had gone all the way. At least he got what he deserved and paid for his crime.”

“There was never a crime to pay for.”

“Mmm,” Aemond watches her expression, trying to find some trace of a lie in her eyes, something to betray her words, “Even if I was tempted to believe you, you too must pay for your audacity in meeting him. And him for even suggesting it, for dancing with you, for wrapping his arms around you, for almost kissing you and touching you.”

Rhaena shudders upon hearing this, and the prince wonders if she can detect the possessive tone in his voice as he tells her all these things, “I apologize, cousin. I know I acted in a way that does not befit my position. I am aware of that.”

“Well,” Aemond places his hand over the one Rhaena still has on his chest, slowly stroking her fingers, “It’s good that you have that clear now that you will be my wife.”

“Your wife and therefore you are the only one with the… right to do all those things?”

“Mmm.”

Rhaena smirks, “Well, cousin, that remains to be seen,” she replies, surprising him by noticing her hardened gaze, “Tomorrow you too will become my husband. And I expect the same as you ask of me,” his cousin steps back so suddenly that he can do nothing to prevent it, and only their hands remain joined. She gives him a gentle squeeze before breaking free from his grip and standing at a safe distance, “You know what I mean.”

Yes, Aemond knows what Rhaena is talking about, but he doesn't say anything because Alicent returns at that moment with the maester and she takes the opportunity to leave the tent.

***

Lady Johanna's gaze is on her, watching her with a mix of curiosity and pity?

“I am sorry, my lady, I am afraid I am not the best company this evening.”

They're gathered alone in lady Lannister’s private chambers. Her invitation had surprised her, although she was grateful for the distraction considering that her mind was still returning to the conversation of a few hours ago with her cousin. Had she really given Aemond some kind of… ultimatum? And more importantly, was she even going to be able to fulfill it? It wasn't as if she could stop him from taking her by force or…

“I am perfectly capable of understanding you, Lady Rhaena,” the woman delicately wipes the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin, “The day before my wedding I didn't eat a bite, I spent it in bed imagining the worst possible scenarios about my future husband and married life.”

“Were you not familiar with Lord Jason?” she asks curiously.

“He was our lord paramount, of course. I had seen him a couple of times when he visited The Crag, but not enough to really get to know him.”

Rhaena nods. She knows that this is how it usually goes in such unions, “Were you scared?” she dares to ask.

“Terrified,” Lady Johanna smiles wistfully, “That is partly why I took the liberty of requesting this meeting. I thought that perhaps you needed a voice with experience on the subject now that you are faced with the fate of every other noble woman in the realm.”

“And I appreciate your consideration towards me.”

“Surely you have doubts,” the woman continues, making a face very similar to Marianne’s when she is concentrating on something, “I imagine that Lady Laena did not have the opportunity to speak with you on these matters, considering that the gods took her when you were still young,” Rhaena simply nods, her heart filling with sadness at the mention of her mother, “And Princess Rhaenyra probably did not speak to you either since your engagement to Prince Lucerys never materialized and times were uncertain.”

Rhaena smiles vaguely, and lifts her teacup to her lips, “I know what is expected to happen tomorrow in the marital bed, my lady, my septas spoke to me of it.”

“Ah, the septas!” Lady Lannister sneers, “They know nothing of the subject. And, if they do know they never dare to speak.”

“Your words do not comfort me,” she lets out a nervous chuckle.

“It is not pleasant. At least, not at first,” she sighs, “But it is our duty, and, with time, it becomes more tolerable. Enjoyable, even, if you can get your future husband to stop thinking only of himself, and take more notice of you.”

“Oh,” is all she can say because the truth is, she has no idea what Lady Lannister is talking about. The woman laughs and sips from her wine glass, clearly understanding her silence, “Do not worry, remember my words and you will understand them as the days go by.”

“I will trust you, Lady Lannister.”

“What I’m really trying to tell you, my dear, is that you need to understand your future husband. Generally, all men like women to be obedient, accommodating, and to simply nod along with everything they say, but we can be more than that.”

“Was that the case with your husband?”

“My husband, gods bless him, loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He was not the brightest, but I learned quickly that he didn’t like being contradicted too much. I would pretend to agree with him, and simply whisper things in his ear, but I did it in a way that Jason thought the ideas were his own,” she smiles sadly, “I am not saying it will be like that with the prince, but you know him, you’ve spent time with him. Learn and observe, it will serve you well.”

Rhaena thinks about her words. She had had a similar thought, of course, but she knows that her relationship with Aemond has changed a lot since then. Weeks ago, when she had wanted to get along with him, it was simply to feel secure in her marriage. Now that there was, somehow, some attraction between them, as well as some sense of competition and battle of wills, everything was more complicated. She knew she should give in, but she didn’t want to. Just as she knew that Aemond showed some weakness towards her, but only at times, only when he was vulnerable, which wasn’t always.

“I’ve given you a lot to think about, it seems,” Lady Johanna’s voice brings her back to reality, “I know that too much is demanded of us, but it will all be worth it if you can earn his respect and regard. His heart, even. And when you give him a son, he will shower you with praise because he will see in him the continuity of his lineage, especially in the situation you find yourself in.”

“I know.”

“It will be worth it, believe me,” she repeats, “A child will change your life, your way of thinking and considering things. And that child will be for you too, especially at the beginning, it will be your world.”

Rhaena doesn’t know if that prospect terrifies her or makes her long for that moment.

“Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

“You are a clever and nice girl, Rhaena, use that to your advantage,” she replies and stands up, “I will not detain you any longer, I am sure you have many things to do.”

Rhaena exchanges a few last words with the woman, and goes straight to her room. When she arrives, she finds several maids packing her belongings into trunks and chests.

“What are you all doing?” she asks Cindy.

“Queen Alicent told us that we should move your things to the Tower of the Hand, my lady.”

The Tower of the Hand. Aemond’s chambers.

“Right, of course.”

Rhaena doesn’t interrupt them any further, she simply sits on the edge of the bed and watches them work, until other maids arrive to fix her hair.

Once again, she doesn't protest, she just lets them undo the dreadlocks from her hair, which takes hours, but she doesn't complain at all, she doesn't complain about the pain or even mention that she would have preferred to keep them. It doesn't matter. Not really.

When they finally let her alone, she lies down on the bed and tries to sleep. And the gods seem to take pity on her once again because she manages to do so without any problems.

***

“You look beautiful.”

The compliment comes from Marianne who, standing behind her, also looks at her reflection in the mirror.

The words of thanks stay in her throat, so she just reaches for her lady’s hand and squeezes it tightly.

It’s not that she doesn’t like what she sees. She knows Marianne is right, she looks good. The dress is a beautiful ivory shade with dark red sleeves that fall to her feet. The details embroidered in gold threads seem to symbolize the flames of dragon fire. The ruby ​​necklace at her throat exquisitely complements the outfit, as does the tiara that looks delicately placed on her mane of silver curls.

She looks more than good, if she is honest with herself.

And yet, she can’t help the feeling of fear and at the same time anticipation that runs through her body.

“Clearly Queen Alicent has good taste,” Marianne continues, “This dress is perfect for a royal wedding.”

Rhaena nods, “Remind me to thank her.”

She doesn’t think she’ll even be able to say anything coherent during the day.

She doesn’t even think she’ll be able to make it to the Grand Sept on her own.

“Come, we mustn’t be late.”

Her friend takes her hand and guides her into the courtyard of the Keep, where she expects to find a carriage, but instead she finds a beautifully decorated open carriage.

“The people will want to see you,” she explains before giving her a hug and saying goodbye.

She is not alone, however. Her cousin is waiting to help her up and make the journey together.

“Lord Alyn, good morrow.”

“Rhaena, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

She does her best not to damage her dress as she sits down. Her cousin settles in as well, and the carriage moves forward, weaving through the people outside the gates, calling out her name.

Thankfully the commotion frees her from having to converse with her cousin. So, she turns her attention to greeting the people, smiling as convincingly as she can and trying to catch some of the flowers thrown her way.

“The people love you.”

Her cousin helps her down as they stop in front of the Great Sept. “People love an occasion to celebrate,” she replies, smoothing the skirts of her dress.

Alyn smirks and offers his arm, which Rhaena takes, slowly moving alongside him.

“We haven’t had much opportunity to talk these days.”

“The wedding took up much of my time, surely you understand, cousin.”

“Of course,” he replies cordially, “However…”

“There is nothing else to discuss,” she replies as she begins to climb the many stairs, “You are to marry my sister, you have assured me that your intentions are the best, and I believe you. I hope your union will be one filled with joy and that, when we meet again, it will be under equally joyous circumstances.”

Alyn does not reply. Although Rhaena has not yet written to Baela, her mind occupied with more pressing matters, she does not tell lies. She believes the new lord Velaryon’s words. It is not her sister whom she is truly concerned about. At least not in matters of marriage.

The Great Sept is brighter than the other times she has visited. Hundreds of candles are lit beneath each altar. The nobles, already assembled, stand in front of the main altar of the Father's statue, and Rhaena notes that only a select group of them have managed to enter the ceremony.

When a trumpet sounds, all eyes turn to her. Alyn begins to advance along the path marked by brothers of the faith, who hold candles and look very solemn. Rhaena does not make eye contact with anyone, her eyes fixed straight ahead, focused on taking one step after another.

“Remember what I told you, cousin,” Alyn whispers when they are already reaching the point where the royal family is standing, “I am here for you.”

Rhaena offers the briefest of nods as she removes her arm from Lord Alyn and walks to where Aemond is waiting for her.

Although the journey is short, the seconds seem to drag on forever as she takes the final steps towards her fate.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection”

It is the High Septon who speaks, a goofy smile on his lips as he looks at her with fatherly affection. Rhaena bites the inside of her lip and kneels before the altar. Aemond walks slowly up behind her, and places a heavy black and red cloak over her shoulders.

Then, he offers her his hand to rise. Rhaena takes it, her heart pounding in her chest as she stands and stays beside the prince.

Has he worn the cloak before? She can’t help but wonder as his scent envelops her. Or maybe it’s just the fact that they are so close to each other.

“Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of a man and his wife. In the presence of the Seven, I join these two as one flesh, one heart, and one soul for all eternity.”

The High Septon’s words take her breath away, causing her breathing to quicken and her legs to weaken. Aemond seems to notice, because his hand goes to her elbow, holding her. Rhaena doesn’t dare look at him.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

This is it. The moment Rhaena has been dreading. Not only because the words she must speak next are the final hammer blow to the nail that is her sentence to join her life to Aemond's, but because she is not sure she can even speak. What if she can't make a sound and only manages to embarrass herself in front of the court?

Her thoughts are cut off when her cousin faces her, and she, instinctively, does the same.

Rhaena looks up at Aemond and holds her breath as she watches him.

The bruises that weren't quite as visible yesterday are now. A purple bruise covers the left side of his chin and another is noticeable high on his right cheekbone. The girl is tempted to raise her hand and cover his face, but stops herself, finally placing it next to Aemond's, now holding hands facing each other.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” the prince begins, and instinct guides her, making her repeat the prayer as well. A prayer she has practiced and knows well, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine. From this day until…”

“Until the end of my days,” Aemond finishes for both of them.

The High Septon utters something else and the attendees break into applause and cheers, but Rhaena pays them no attention, her gaze still focused on Aemond.

And the way he is looking at her, with… possessiveness and desire all at once, his one good eye scanning her body up and down, making her blush when he finally meets her gaze again.

And though she’s dreaded this moment for the past few months, though just a few hours ago she was miserable about joining her cousin, now she can’t help but feel the same anticipation he seems to be feeling. And the thought sends a rush of pleasure through her body.

Because she is finally his wife.

And he is hers.

Until the last of their days.

Thanks for reading! Would love if you guys let me know what you think so far

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