Zenka

N/a: For those who loved reading The Gossip as much as I loved writing it. It was a joy and a pleasure to share this story with you, this is probably my favorite chapter, I hope you enjoy it. For those who want to listen, the final backing tracks are Send Me on My Way by Rusted Root and You're Still The One by Shania Twain.

7 years later...

"Hey, hey kings landing! It seems our dear stylist Y/n Targaryen is expecting another baby with her husband (who, as we can't forget, is also her cousin…) Aemond Targaryen! The confirmation came from a source who claims that this time it's a girl. Good news, since the last time we heard, rumors said that their eldest daughter, Rhaella, had asked for a sister, and the two said they wouldn't stop trying until they gave her that sister! Let's hope for good angle photos tomorrow at the Targaryen family charity ball and that no scandal occurs!"

❦❦❦

The light of the second half of the day streamed through the windows of Aemond Targaryen's personal office, where he was typing rapidly on his computer while reading new information from a report. Across from his desk, seated in a chair with his feet on the polished wooden tabletop, was Aegon, laughing mischievously as he read the news on his phone in an exaggerated manner, causing Aemond to roll his eyes deeply, unable to continue ignoring his older brother.

-I don't know how those bastards find out about these things. - Aemond grumbled irritably.

-My current question is… - Aegon raised his eyebrows with a grin, looking away from his phone. -After Aenar was born, Rhaella became jealous of Aemon having a little brother and told you both that she wanted a little sister too. - He stood up from his chair and began pacing the room as if truly thoughtful.

-So… - Aegon stared at Aemond dramatically before asking. -Are you going to stop at four children or are you going to continue until you reach an odd number?

-Aegon… - Aemond growled in annoyance, organizing the papers on the table. -Why don't you mind your own business?

-You guys are my family, little brother, you're part of my life, my business as well. - He shrugged, making a face with his lips downturned, before starting to laugh again and sitting on the edge of his younger brother's table. -And because I read yesterday on a news page that if you and Y/n had been alive when our house was almost wiped out in the past, our family would never have gone through this kind of problem.

Aemond didn't answer his brother, only rolled his eyes, as this was one of those moments when he wanted to throw something at Aegon's head. Something like molten, flaming lava.

-Shouldn't you have handed this in already?-Aegon frowned, watching Aemond read the end-of-semester reports, or at least try to, with him talking nonstop beside him.

-I arrived late today… - The younger one murmured without taking his eyes off the screen. - There was a meeting at Rhaella's school, and Y/n needed to be at the atelier early to make some adjustments to Mrs. Martell's ball gown.

-What did your little angel do this time? -Aegon's features were already smiling as he awaited Aemond's response, who rolled his eyes immediately afterward.

Rhaella was a very sweet and kind girl, but she tended to get into trouble from time to time, whether it was losing her temper, as had happened last month when he and Y/n were called after she hit another girl during recess.

Aemond still vividly remembered the conversation they had had with his daughter.

-Rhaella, we've already talked, you can't bite your classmates at school. - He murmured, crouching down to keep himself at his daughter's height, as did Y/n.

-But she bit Aemon first, Daddy! - She exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with indignation as she lightly clenched her hands. -And then I bit her back… and pulled her hair a little. But it was just a little! - Rhaella added quickly, as if to justify herself to her parents.

Y/n and Aemond had a serious problem resolving this issue, since they always told their children that they should protect themselves, so how could they tell Rhaella that it was wrong to bit the girl who had bit Aemon?

However, this morning the reason for the meeting had been different. Rhaella hadn't bit anyone; she was just having what Aemond called ideas that were too daring for her still small size.

-I gave an online lecture on profits and monopolies for KLU about two weeks ago. - He shrugged dismissively. -She was sleeping on the library sofa because she had a fight with Aemon, and the two weren't speaking.

-Or at least I thought she was sleeping because apparently she listened to my lecture and got ideas about it, since she sold all the stickers from her notebook and then used the profit and the money from her piggy bank to buy sticker sheets for the other kids in the class and then…- He sighed, staring at the older brother. - I was called in because she was selling overpriced stickers to her classmates.

Aemond had barely finished the story when Aegon was already practically rolling on the floor in his typical boisterous laughter, making the younger man roll his eyes but smile slyly at the same time for his daughter's accomplishments, even if they were unorthodox.

-And what did you do about it? - Aegon croaked through laughter, staring at him with wide eyes.

-I tried to resolve things in the best way possible. - Aemond sighed, rolling his eyes and putting away the papers that would no longer be used, already opening a new folder. -Since I can't tell her teacher that it's not my fault my daughter is intelligent and the other children are stupid.

❦❦❦

Crossing the door of Aemond's office into the hallway, the news of Y/n's fourth pregnancy was also the main topic of conversation. Since Lizze Mayotte, Aemond's secretary, always ended up knowing one thing or another first due to her position, but even so, not even she knew everything, and her curiosity, and that of Sana Heyors, Aegon's secretary, seemed insatiable.

-It's impossible that she's pregnant again! - Lizze whispered incredulous. - With that much money, they were supposed to be able to buy a television.

-Didn't you see the way she was walking the last time she came here? - Sana whispered back, leaning over the table, afraid of being overheard by anyone but Lizze. -Totally like a pregnant woman's walk.

-But she didn't have a belly. - Lizze shrugged, taking a sip of water.

-Well, it probably just hadn't started showing yet. - Sana murmured thoughtfully, searching for a nail file that had been lost in the desk drawer.

-Besides, she always stops wearing high heels when she's pregnant. - She stated suddenly, rolling her eyes. - Whether it's because of leg pain or because her psychopath husband forbids her, I can't say.

-Shut up. - Lizze whispered, her eyes wide, staring at the closed office door. -If he hears us, we're dead!

As if it were a plot to scare the two secretaries, the phone on Lizze's desk rang, making them both almost jump out of their chairs, their eyes widening and their hands on their chests. Without waiting long, Lizze took a deep breath and answered the call, her heart pounding in her throat.

-Hello Mrs. May, it's Aemon! - Came the sweet, childlike voice from the phone, making her roll her eyes slightly, smiling and sighing in relief as she moved her lips to quietly tell Sana who was on the phone, making the other woman roll her eyes as well.

-Hello Mr. Aemon. - She replied, feigning seriousness as she always did when the boy called to speak to his father. -How can I help you today?

-Can you pass the phone to Daddy? - The boy's voice sounded anxious.

-He's in a meeting right now… - Before Lizze could finish speaking, Aemon's voice was already insisting from the other end of the line.

-Please, Mrs. May! It's really urgent! - He pleaded as he always did, no matter what he wanted to speak to his father about. - Tell Daddy it's important… he'll answer!

-All right, I'll talk to him. - She grumbled with a smile, shaking her head as she pressed the extension for the boss's office.

-Mr. Targaryen? - She asked apprehensively as soon as Aemond answered the phone.

-I thought I said I didn't want anyone bothering me, Mrs. Mayotte; Aegon is enough for me already. - Came the sharp, usually irritated voice that Lizze had grown accustomed to over the years, but never ceased to fear.

-Your son Aemon is on the phone… - Making a face, she began to speak, hoping, as always, that his children would help tame the beast. - He says it's very urgent.

There was about five seconds of silence before the man's grumpy voice sounded a little softer on the phone.

-Pass the call.

Silently, Lizze thanked the gods for her boss's marriage and the birth of those children, because, however unbearable Aemond Targaryen was, nothing compared to the period before he started a family. Before, Sana and Lizze constantly compared him to a cruel demon. Now, the two even found him tolerable, which was an unparalleled improvement.

❦❦❦

-Are we buying another cargo ship? - Aegon spoke with a furrowed brow as he read the papers on Aemond's desk. -We already ordered two new ones last month, I don't think it's necessary…

-That's not company business. - Aemond rolled his eyes, taking the papers from the older man's sight and putting them in the drawer. - They're from Y/n…

-Shit… - Aegon muttered, making a face with his lips and frowning in surprise. - What does a haute couture atelier need a transnational freighter for?

-It's not from her company, Aegon… - Aemond sighed again, rolling his eyes, almost giving up reading after so many interruptions. - It's the Royce Corporation's semi-annual balance sheet; part of the shares belong to her through her mother. Hiron Royce always sends her the financial statements so she can stay informed about everything, as do the other shareholders.

Aemond, as always, meticulously analyzed them and then shared his perceptions with her, since his wife preferred death to dealing with numbers.

It was in the midst of this conversation that the desk phone rang, only serving to further irritate Aemond, but upon hearing the secretary say it was his son calling, he couldn't refuse the call, even knowing that the probability of this very urgent matter was simply him saying he missed him, or that Aenar had taken his crayon again.

-Hi Daddy, it's Aemon! - The excited voice came from the phone, and Aemond smiled slightly, almost able to see his son's smile just from hearing the voice.

-Hello… - Aemond smiled, leaning back in his chair and ignoring Aegon, who continued reading his personal files with curiosity. -Is something wrong?

-My brown bear cereal is finished! - The voice sounded a little whispered, and Aemond was sure Y/n didn't know he was on the phone. -Rhaella and I don't want to eat that weird cereal Aunt Helaena makes for breakfast tomorrow.

Again, Aemond sighed with a smile at the fact that even with him and Y/n trying to teach them, both Rhaella and Aemon seemed not to understand what a real emergency was, and very soon Aenar would probably learn how to use the phone, causing more emergencies to arise throughout the day.

-Dad's going to take the brown bear cereal when he goes home. - Aemond murmured with a grin into the phone.

-Yeep! - Aemon's cheerful voice came again, followed by a whisper that was probably directed at Rhaella. -He'll bring it!

-Yes! - Came the excited voice of his eldest daughter, making him roll his eyes, still smiling.

Before they hung up, the two murmured "I love you" to their father, barely giving him a chance to respond before the line went silent, further confirming Aemond's theory that, once again, they were using the phone in secret.

-What's the emergency of the day? - Aegon asked with a grin as he sat back down in the armchair.

-Their favorite cereal has run out. - Aemond sighed, noting this on his to-do list for the day, a task he shouldn't forget. - And they hate Helaena's granola.

-That's what I call a big problem… - Aegon grimaced, casually lifting his feet onto his younger brother's desk again, making him roll his eyes.

❦❦❦

The day had seemed longer than usual, most likely due to the accumulation of tasks that should have already been completed, but as night began to fall, Aemond found himself smiling as he entered, as he did every day, through the cast-iron gates of the front garden of his house. The lights were on, flickering and shining, making the house seem more like a refuge than anything else, and just being in the front garden, Aemond could already feel the day's weariness slowly leaving his body.

With the years that had passed, the cascade of flowers that fell over the pillars of the main door was even more beautiful than when it had been planted, as was the garden, which seemed to have more color now that for every hedge Aemond looked at, he could see his wife laughing and picking flowers to decorate the house, or see the young children playing happily and rolling in the fresh green grass.

Even from outside the door, Aemond could smell a sweet scent coming from inside the house, and considering it was Friday, he had a vague idea of ​​what that smell was. With a subtle smile on his lips, he reached for the doorknob.

-Dad! - Rhaella screamed as soon as the door opened, running towards Aemond, holding a sheet of paper in her hand with a toothless smile on her lips, since she had just lost one of her baby teeth. She didn't even give him a chance to think, just jumped into her father's arms, who, as always, caught her in the air and lifted her up by the armpits, holding her comfortably against his side.

-Look at the drawing I made! - Rhaella shook the paper in her hand, handing it to her father and showing it to him, very excited.

-It's beautiful, my love. - Aemond smiled, frowning slightly as he tried to understand exactly what she had drawn. - Is it a house?

-No, Daddy! It's a bear! - She laughed, throwing her back, making Aemond lean forward and catch her with his hand. - Can't you see its little ears?

-Oh yes, dad can see them now. - He couldn't see anything, and it still looked very much like a house, but anything his daughter did seemed very beautiful to his eyes.

-What's that on your mouth, little flower? - Aemond arched his eyebrows when he saw small black dots stuck to Rhaella's lips.

-Chia, Daddy! - She stuck her tongue, full of stuck-on black seeds, out smiling. - Mama gave it to us with my favorite yogurt today, and Aenar ate strawberries.

-It must have been delicious. - He murmured, smiling at his daughter and inhaling the smell of her yogurt breath.

-Mom's making cookies! - She exclaimed excitedly, making Aemond smile as he put his eldest daughter down and placed her briefcase on the sideboard, glancing around the spacious living room where, in the corner of the rug, Aenar dozed peacefully, clinging to Browsheeps, the chubby Beagle who followed the younger boy around all day, wagging his tail.

Aemond still didn't particularly like dogs, and wasn't always 100% comfortable seeing his children clinging to them, especially during such vulnerable moments as sleep, but he had learned to tolerate them. And Y/n loved to tease him when she caught him petting Browsheeps or Skytas, the enormous and gentle Saint Bernard who was the love of Rhaella and Aemon's lives, between the ears.

Further to the side was Vhagar, perched on the back of the sofa near several colored papers and crayons, watching the children from above with her bright eyes as she liked to do, always attentive to anything that might be out of place.

The two walked together to the kitchen, Rhaella ahead while Aemond followed her, and even from a distance he could already see Y/n smiling and chatting with Aemon, carefully stirring the cookie dough while both were closely watched by Skytas, who was sitting next to Aemon's stool near the counter.

With an even wider smile on his lips, Aemond reached for the camera on the shelf, and before the younger woman saw him entering the kitchen, he took a picture of his smiling and happy wife while she was making cookies with their children.

-Aemond! - She complained, glaring at him, but still smiling and continuing to stir the cookie dough. - My hair isn't styled!

-You look beautiful. - He murmured, taking the snapshot from the camera and gently shaking it, already leaning in to give his wife a soft kiss on the lips while wiping the flour that had stuck to her left cheek, then letting his free hand slide down to her already prominent belly. -And how's our little petal doing?

-She's getting more and more restless. - Y/n smiled without stopping stirring the cookie dough and kissing Aemond's jaw.

-I think little sister wants Mommy's cookies too. - Aemon joined the conversation while licking some dough from a spoon with a smile on his lips, swinging his legs on the stool that made him taller.

-Most likely. - Aemond murmured, lightly ruffling his youngest son's silver hair, who smiled even more and brought the spoonful of cookie dough and drool to his father's mouth, who, rolling his eyes, accepted a little so as not to hurt his son's feelings.

-Did you bring the brown bear cereal, Daddy? - Aemon asked, staring deep into his eyes, and Aemond could see the expectation overflowing in his son's gaze.

-It's with my briefcase… - Aemond had barely finished speaking when Rhaella jumped up with a shout and clung to the fabric of his pants, smiling happily.

-You're the best, Dad! - Rhaella smiled, looking at her father while Aemon stretched out his arms and pulled him closer, slightly jealous.

-How did Dad know the cereal was gone? - Y/n's voice interrupted the moment, making them both look away from their father to their mother, who had a furrowed brow and arched eyebrows.

-Oh, Mom… - Rhaella stammered, a little lost, while Aemon's blue eyes widened.

-Mom and Dad already said it's dangerous to use the phone unsupervised. - Y/n murmured, looking at them both with a slightly more serious voice. - If you dial the wrong number, you could end up on anyone's phone.

-But I know how to use the phone, Mom! - Rhaella smiled confidently, still holding onto Aemond's clothes. - Dad taught me, and I taught Aemon to. - The older sister had barely finished speaking when Aemon nodded, smiling broadly and equally proud of knowing how to use the phone.

-Only for emergencies, little flower. - Aemond sighed, stroking his daughter's silver hair, which was tied in a loose braid. -Remember? If something happens and you need Dad urgently.

-But I needed the teddy bear cereal. - Aemon murmured, tilting his head to the right and looking at his father confused, while his thin silver hair fell over his eye.

-But was this a matter of life or death? - Y/n asked her son with a somewhat incredulous look, holding back laughter at his argument, which was too cute for his own good.

-No, Mommy. - Aemon pouted as he admitted.

-It's alright, dear. - Y/n smiled, placing a soft kiss on her son's hair. - Just don't use the phone alone anymore, okay?

They both nodded in agreement, making both Aemond and Y/n want to shower their little children with kisses and hugs. A few moments later, Y/n announced that the dough was ready and amidst laughter and more conversation about the day, the four began rolling the chocolate chip cookies.

While Aemon finished recounting his earlier music lesson at school, the sound of Y/n's phone ringing on the counter burst through the kitchen, making her look at the screen with a furrowed brow, but then quickly breaking into a smile and biting her lower lip.

-Finish rolling the cookies with the kids, Aem, I really need to attend to this. - She spoke quickly, still smiling, as she wiped her hands on her flour-covered apron on her way to the living room.

-Good afternoon, Mrs. Stark. - Her voice sounded very polite, making Aemond smile as he watched her pace back and forth talking on the phone.

-Oh yes, thank you for your congratulations… - Y/n smiled, placing her hand on the base of her belly and gently caressing it.

-I have some time for you and your daughter this week, so you can take advantage of your coming to the charity ball and we can talk. - Aemond could clearly see that his wife was holding back her excitement as she tried to sound as professional as possible on the phone. -It will be an honor to design your daughter's dress, Mrs. Stark!

-Guess who it was? - She skipped back into the kitchen, beaming with joy after hanging up the phone, a wide grin shining on her lips, and before Aemond had a chance to reply, she continued on. -Catelyn Stark herself, to tell me that her eldest daughter said she'll only get married if she wears one of my dresses!

-Aemond, do you realize what that means? She laughed, washing her hands and drying them on her apron while Rhaella watched her with a curious look. -Sansa Stark is practically a queen in the North when it comes to clothing; everything the girl wears becomes fashionable there.

-If she gets married wearing one of my designs, I'll finally be able to make a name for myself in the North too! - Y/n's voice sounded euphoric as she returned to the counter to help Aemon with his last ball of dough.

-Congratulations, darling… - He murmured smiling, leaving a kiss on the back of his wife's ear. - And this isn't an "if," it's a "when." If she's as picky as you say she is, she'll get married wearing one of your dresses.

-Mom's going to dress a queen? - Rhaella asked, confused and visibly interested.

-Well, she's not a real queen, darling. - Y/n smiled at her daughter. - But among the fashion magazines in the North, she's like one, so… she's very important to Mom.

-Cool! I want to take a picture with her! - Rhaella smiled excitedly as she wrapped her little arms around Aemon, hugging her younger brother who squealed with laughter, hugging her back and leaving a kiss on his sister's cheek.

Y/n was so engrossed in watching her older children with a smile on her lips that she barely noticed little Aenar, who had woken up and was now entering the kitchen, dragging his favorite light blue blanket across the floor behind him, closely followed by Browsheeps.

-Daddy… -He raised his arms to Aemond, still sleepy, while lightly rubbing his eyes.

With a sideways smile, Aemond lifted his cuddly youngest son from the floor and carefully cradled him in his arms; as soon as he climbed into his father's lap, Aenar laid his head on his shoulder and remained quiet, just observing his mother and younger siblings with curious eyes while sucking his right thumb.

Aemond came to find it very interesting to observe the behavior of each of his three children. Rhaella hadn't given them much trouble as a baby; she was so quiet that it scared them and made them think something was wrong. That is, until she started talking and never stopped since. She was like a perfect blend of him and his wife, and thinking about it always made him laugh.

Aemon, on the other hand, was almost entirely Y/n; he loved to draw and, even at only five years old, hated going to school and made sure it was everyone's problem. He seemed calm at first glance, but both Aemond and his wife knew very well that their son seemed to have endless energy to burn for hours, and they had discovered this after leaving the maternity, when, upon arriving home, he cried for almost an hour straight for no apparent reason.

If Aenar hadn't been an accident on a particularly wild night in the coat closet at a party Aegon had forced them to go to, their youngest son probably wouldn't have been born, because Aemon had done a good job of scaring them enough to want only two children.

But then, three years ago, Aenar was born, the sweetest child anyone had ever seen. Y/n never tired of saying how much he resembled Aemond, but the older man disagreed, always saying that his younger son was too good to be like him, and in response she would just roll her eyes.

She was sure Aenar would start reading sooner than Rhaella had, since he simply adored those cloth books that she and Aemond had bought for the children.

-Give him to me. - Y/n extended her arms to her husband, who furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. -Dr. Lia said I'm fine and I can hold him until the thirtieth week, Aemond. -She rolled her eyes, refusing to accept any opposition, and took her youngest baby from her husband.

-Besides, you need to go upstairs to change if you want to be here in time for dinner. -She smiled, placing a kiss on his forearm.

-Okay… - He rolled his eyes, still annoyed. -But it's better if we eat as soon as I come down, I barely had time for lunch today, I'm starving.

-Did you hear daddy, soldiers? - Y/n looked at Aemon and Rhaella playfully. -Time to set the table!

The two didn't need to hear it twice before they started running towards the cupboard while discussing which colors of plates they would choose for that night. A few minutes later the dining table was already beautifully set, completely arranged with the chosen dishes, and it wasn't long before Aemond came down the stairs again, now wearing blue sweatpants and a gray shirt. However, as soon as Y/n's eyes landed on her husband, she burst into laughter, making him frown in confusion.

-You must be really exhausted today, Aem… - She murmured, tilting her head ironically as she placed Aenar in the high chair since he was still too small to reach the table alone without being uncomfortable. -Because your shirt is inside out.

-Mmm… - Aemond sighed, clutching the hem of his shirt and suppressing a slight curse word so as not to add anything inappropriate to the vocabulary of his young children, who were now laughing as if it were simply the funniest thing in the world.

Without warning, he simply ripped the shirt off over his head, making Y/n whistle playfully in his direction, which only made him roll his eyes with a smile. In recent years he had hardly changed at all, remaining as handsome as ever, only one thing had been added.

Where there had once been the pale scars from Balerion's attack when they were children, now there were two small swallows flying around each other with three small dotted stars tattooed above them on his skin.

Every time Y/n saw them drawn on her husband's pale skin, her heart skipped a beat as she remembered Aemond telling her that the two little birds represented them.

Together forever, just like those birds. The first time they made love after he got that tattoo, she cried over him after reaching the peak of passion, and then covered him with kisses.

-I love you. - She murmured with a subtle smile on her lips, caressing her husband's tattoo, which was now covered by his shirt.

-I love you too. - He murmured back, caressing his wife's face and kissing her temple gently.

-I love you! - Aemon shouted, kneeling on the cushioned chair to be taller. As soon as he shouted, Rhaella followed him, and after the eldest, Aenar was also happily saying that he loved them.

Amidst the laughter, Aemond pulled out the chair and helped Y/n sit down, placing another kiss on his wife's soft hair before also sitting down for dinner.

The food looked exceptionally appetizing that night, and the children weren't even complaining about eating the broccoli and lentils when the sweet smell of baking cookies wafted through the dining room like a warning to the three of them: They would only eat the cookies if they ate the vegetables first.

Rhaella ate carefully and occasionally tossed a small piece of meat to Skytas, not because she didn't want to eat, but because she always shared her food with the sweet Saint Bernard. While Aemon chattered incessantly about how his teacher had let him choose the word of the day for her to write on the board, all while constantly wiggling his upper incisor, which was about to fall out, with his tongue.

Aenar, meanwhile, sat in his high chair eating very slowly, using his hands for the broccoli and a spoon for the rest of his food, looking very pleased with himself while occasionally offering a little of his own food to his mother or father, who accepted it just to see him smile.

The plates were already empty when Rhaella once again began to pester Aemon.

-Aemon, just pull that tooth out already! - She pleaded, kneeling on her younger brother's chair, making Aemond roll his eyes, since his eldest daughter had been tormenting her brother for days to let her pull his tooth.

-Rhaella, mom already said your brother will pull his tooth out when he's ready. - Y/n smiled at the little girl, narrowing her eyes and making her huff.

-I saved my money from the tooth fairy. -Rhaella sighed, looking at her parents. -If Aemon and I get together, we can do something amazing!

-The two of them will certainly dominate the world. - Aemond rolled his eyes, affectionately tugging at his daughter's braid.

-Your mother already said, your brother gets to choose when to pull his tooth. - Aemond smiled, pulling her onto his lap. -Besides, you're already in enough trouble with money matters, and I don't think you want to get any more.

As soon as she heard those words coming from her father's lips, Rhaella's eyes widened comically, and Aemond almost laughed when he realized that that little head was already trying to think of a way to trick him.

-Aemon chooses what to do with his money, and you choose what to do with yours. - Aemond murmured seriously to the little girl. -About the other matter, your mother and I will talk to you later.

-Okay… - She sighed, pouting, and got down from her father's lap so they could both help clear the table.

The evening continued lovely, and it was undeniable that Friday night dinner was one of their favorite parts of the week, as it was always followed by some delicious dessert and a story time that Aemond would read to everyone on the plush living room rug.

-Mommy, shall we build the fort? - Aemon pleaded with an excited smile, tugging at the hem of Y/n's dress and making her smile at her baby, nodding in agreement to the delight of the three little ones.

The fort was nothing more than a huge, light blue piece of fabric with yellow stars that Y/n had brought home from the atelier because it had been mistakenly ordered from the manufacturer. It was so large that it easily created a fort when hung on a small hook that Aemond had fixed to the living room ceiling and tied to the feet of the sofas.

The children loved lying there and listening to stories or watching a movie with their parents; it was something… special. It became even more special when Y/n brought the tray of warm, freshly baked cookies and placed it on the coffee table for everyone to help themselves.

Suddenly, while everyone was eating the cookies, Aemon's eyes widened and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, pulling out his small, chocolate-covered baby tooth, making everyone laugh and celebrate with him the loss of his first baby tooth. Without wasting any time, Aemond stood up and took a picture of his son, who was smiling with his mouth covered in chocolate while holding the tooth as if it were a trophy.

-Now Rhaella and I are the same! - Aemon shouted excitedly, smiling at his parents next to his older sister, who was also missing one of her upper teeth, making her laugh and hug him.

-Daddy, me too! - Aenar pouted, staring at Aemond, who simply laughed and stroked his silver hair.

-Your teeth haven't even finished growing in yet, my love. - Y/n murmured to her son, smiling and also stroking his hair. - They can't fall yet.

-It's okay, Aenar… - Aemon joined the conversation, hugging his brother. - I'll share the tooth fairy money with you.

Y/n could easily say that this almost made her cry because of the pregnancy hormones, but that would be a lie. Whenever she saw her children being so close to each other, protecting each other and having such a sweet relationship, she felt her heart burn, as well as her eyes.

Not long after that, Aemond turned off the light so they could lie on the floor and make shadows with their hands using a garden lantern, and they almost died laughing at the strange shapes they all made and said meant something real, which was very unlikely since none of them made sense.

Amidst the laughter, Browsheeps, as always, found a way to annoy Aemond, jumping onto his chest and barking, making the children giggle, as well as Y/n, who, even trying not to laugh at her husband, couldn't help it.

-Browsheeps! - He scolded the beagle, lifting his torso off the ground and pointing to the rug. -Get down now!

In that same instant, Browsheeps jumped and ran to lie down in the space between Aemon and Aenar, glaring at Aemond with a guilty look.

-I swear that dog does that to provoke me.- He murmured to Y/n, who looked at him with raised eyebrows.

-It's a dog, Aemond. - She rolled her eyes, smiling as she stroked Vhagar's soft fur, who, after so many years with them, no longer minded being petted, even though he was still a bit grumpy like his owner. -He doesn't have an evil plan to destroy your life.

Aemond arched his eyebrows and stared at the beagle, who only wagged its tail slowly and looked at him with those bright, pleading eyes that so charmed his wife and children. The dog really wasn't so bad, but sometimes it seemed to make a special effort to annoy him.

As the hours passed, tiredness began to overwhelm them all, and even Aemon was already yawning, lying in his mother's lap next to Rhaella while they listened to their father read another story from the new book he had bought for them the previous week.

In the middle of the reading, Aenar had already fallen asleep, and while his older siblings listened to the story, even though they were drowsy, he slept nestled in his father's lap, clinging to his light blue blanket and Aemond's shirt at the same time.

-Time for bed… - Y/n murmured softly as soon as Aemond finished the chapter and closed the book, causing both Rhaella and Aemon to complain, even though they could no longer keep their eyes open.

-If you complain about bedtime, I'll cut an hour off… - Aemond murmured quietly, trying not to wake Aenar, something that was inevitable because as soon as he got up from the floor, his youngest son's blue eyes opened and he looked at him smiling.

-No, Dad. - Rhaella's eyes widened as she got up from the floor without complaining anymore, just like Aemon, making Y/n frown with a smile.

After going upstairs, Aemon and Aenar brushed their teeth first. Aemon already knew how to brush by himself, but needed supervision, while Aenar was still learning and needed either Aemond or Y/n to brush his teeth for him.

Rhaella, for her part, was very proud of herself for knowing how to brush her own teeth, and every day as soon as she finished she would run to her parents, smiling and opening her mouth wide, showing them how clean and fragrant her teeth were.

As on every night, while Y/n put the boys to their room, Aemond went to the stairs to check if the safety gate was properly closed; otherwise, neither he nor Y/n would be able to sleep, thinking that one of their children might get an idea in the middle of the night and try to go down the stairs alone.

Aenar and Aemon had their own rooms, but the younger one almost always ended up sleeping with his older brother, since he didn't like being alone and Aemon didn't mind sharing the bed and the teddy bears with him.

Rhaella, on the other hand, loved her brothers, but she didn't like anyone messing with her things, which were carefully organized for a girl of only seven years old. So she only let them into her room at specific times, and made sure they put everything back in its place before leaving.

-Aemon, you can only pick up your little brother if you're sitting down. - Y/n smiled at her son, who had lifted his younger brother off the floor and was holding him smiling. -Otherwise you might hurt your back and you both might fall, he's too heavy for you, my dear.

-Okay, Mom… - Aemon let out a sigh as he put Aenar back on the floor.

-Both of you to bed. - She nodded, and Aemon immediately climbed up to snuggle under the covers, closely followed by Aenar, who lay down beside his brother, hugging his blue blanket and already putting his thumb to his mouth.

It was almost a ritual in their house. Every night, Y/n would kiss them on the forehead and say goodnight, as would Aemond, who had just re-entered the room to wish his younger children goodnight.

-Leave the star-shaped lamp on… - Aemon murmured with his eyes closed as his parents left the room, and with a smile, Y/n turned on the small lamp that emitted a faint yellowish light, then went through the door behind Aemond.

Across the hall in Rhaella's room, the situation was different. By this time, she was sitting on the wooden stool at the white dressing table adorned with flowering vines, huffing and puffing as she tried to braid her own hair, something she was still finding very difficult.

-Mom… - She sighed, wrinkling her nose and pouting as she stared at Y/n and Aemond in the mirror. -I can't.

-It's alright, my little flower. -Y/n smiled, tenderly stroking her daughter's hair. -I'll do it for you.

-But I want to learn. - Rhaella pleaded, frowning without taking her eyes off her mother's.

-You will, my dear. - The older woman rolled her eyes, smiling, and began braiding her daughter's soft, silvery hair. - But not at this time of night.

-How did you get so good at this, Mom? - She murmured, looking at herself in the mirror with enchanted eyes as she watched the new loose braid quickly take shape, while she leaned on the vanity top by her elbows.

-I practiced on your father's hair. - Y/n whispered playfully to her daughter, making Rhaella's eyes sparkle and she turned towards her father instantly, already begging to use him as a guinea pig in her tests, making him laugh and kiss her affectionately on the top of his head.

-Did you brush your teeth? - Aemond asked, patting his daughter's back.

In response, Rhaella blew a puff of fresh breath towards her father, making him grimace, which caused the little girl to laugh and hide her face against her mother's waist.

-Time for bed little flower. - Y/n smiled, helping her off the stool as the little girl showed off the sea turtle pajamas she had received from Helaena for her last birthday.

As she stepped onto the rug at the foot of the bed, a small black spider scurried towards the door, causing little Rhaella's eyes to widen and her to scream, clutching Y/n's clothes, who had frozen in place, holding her breath and biting her lips from the inside.

At that very moment, without hesitation, Aemond stepped on the spider and moved it out of the way, thanking the gods that Helaena wasn't present, as she would have finished him off for stepping on a spider that she considered harmless.

-It's alright, dear… - Y/n murmured to Rhaella, catching her breath and stroking her daughter's back, who was still a little frightened. -It's just a little spider.

Aemond knew she was still afraid, and that she was probably trembling inside right now, but he also knew that his wife would never scream or run in front of Rhaella, because she didn't want their daughter to have the same fears she had.

-Mom… can I sleep with Mr. Bunny tonight? - Rhaella murmured after the scare, and Y/n smiled, stroking her daughter's hair.

-Of course you can, my love. - Y/n murmured back, since she and Aemond had established a little rule between them: considering that the three little ones always wanted to sleep with the plush rabbit, whoever needed it most would sleep with Mr. Bunny. So usually when one of them was sad for some reason, or had had a nightmare, Mr. Bunny was called upon to spend the night on watch, warding off the nightmares.

Aemond often told his wife that this was the best placebo effect they had ever invented, since the plush rabbit seemed to have magical powers to make their children sleep soundly even when they were upset.

-Are you alright now, darling? - Aemond sang, adjusting her in bed next to the fluffy, worn plush rabbit, making her simply nod her head positively and lean in to hug her father.

-Mommy? - Rhaella looked at Y/n with a pout over Aemond's shoulder. - Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?

-Of course, my love. - Y/n smiled, tenderly caressing her daughter's soft, chubby cheeks, already lying down on the bed and pulling her close.

❦❦❦

The next day dawned with a radiant sun in the sky, its rays illuminating the house and bringing with them a cheerful and warm atmosphere. Although Y/n had never liked waking up early, in recent years that had changed, since with family and work, if she slept too long, she would lose precious minutes that she could be enjoying with those she loved, or doing what she loved.

That Saturday was no different; she had woken up nestled in her husband's warm arms, who kissed her back, making her smile and sigh as she felt her skin tingle. Aemond's kisses were beginning to lose their innocence, as were his greedy hands, when the sound of a few knocks on the door echoed through the room, causing them to slowly pull away from each other while exchanging a lazy kiss.

After that, Aemond got up to open the door, making way for Rhaella and Aemon, who entered laughing and chattering like two little hurricanes, while they talking to their parents about the tooth fairy. At that hour, Aenar was still sleeping and would probably only wake up when Y/n or Aemond came to the room to get him for breakfast.

The children loved Saturday and Sunday mornings, since they usually didn't have to go out during the weekend, so after breakfast they could just have fun and play until lunchtime.

That particular morning, everyone went to the garden to keep Y/n company as she tended to her favorite flowers and chose some to make a new arrangement to leave on the living room table during the week.

The children's shouts and laughter echoed through the yard as the three ran across the lawn playing, until Aemond picked up the hose and, with a very serious look on his face, as if he were doing nothing but standing there watching them, sprayed the water on his children, making them scream and laugh even louder.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the scene that followed: the wet, giggling children jumping on Aemond, trying to grab the hose from their father's hands, who simply held it higher, preventing them from reaching it while maintaining a sideways smile on his lips.

-Stop torturing our children. - She rolled her eyes, glancing at him with a smile as she placed the basket of chosen flowers on the garden table.

-I'm not torturing them, I'm teaching them persistence. - Aemond hummed, spraying a jet of water on Aemon, who screamed and clung even tighter to his leg as if trying to climb, while Rhaella jumped desperately around her father and Aenar laughed, holding the part of the hose that was on the ground.

It wasn't long before Aemond felt sorry for his children and let them grab the hose. The moment the little ones took control, they turned on their father and started chasing him, splashing him with water and laughing with glee.

The game was just between the four of them, and Y/n watched, caressing her protruding belly, until Aemon decided she would join in too and sprayed water at his mother, catching her by surprise and making her scream, something that only made Aenar giggle as she lay down on the wet grass.

With narrowed eyes, Y/n ran towards her son, who laughed and tried to escape unsuccessfully, and while Aemon yelled and laughed, she dragged him by the foot through the soft, damp grass of the garden, causing Rhaella and Aenar to beg to go too.

When the sun was already high in the sky and they decided to go inside, they were all soaked to the bone and covered in blades of grass, but it didn't matter; they were too happy to care about something as simple as a little dirt and grime.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Dancil, who now worked exclusively for Aemond and Y/n, was making lunch when she saw them smiling as they passed by with the children towards the living room. She was still sometimes incredulous that the once taciturn and grumpy boy she had worked for years ago had become such a cheerful and contented man.

Aemond Targaryen wasn't like his older brother; he wasn't talkative, quick-witted, or easy to please. But there, in that environment, with his family, he seemed so happy and lighthearted that it even gave the impression that for everyone in that world, happiness could be found in the simplest things in life.

❦❦❦

After all the commotion in the garden, Aemond and Y/n decided it was best to let the children have their baths so they could only get dressed when it was time to leave for the afternoon charity ball . And after the meal, they were all combed and smelling nice on the living room rug, playing with a set of building blocks that Jaehaerys had given as a gift to the younger cousins.

Everything was calm, and Y/n was in her small home studio answering a call from her personal assistant, while Aemond was on the sofa monitoring the children and organizing some remaining files with Vhagar lying in his thighs almost above of the laptop.

Rhaella and Aemon were playing happily under Skytas's watchful eye, but Aenar seemed tired of all the mess and with a sigh he got up and went to the smaller sofa to get his blue blanket. However, halfway there, there was a small fold in the rug, a fold in which Aenar tripped and fell, hitting one of his knees against a red Lego piece.

At that same instant he screamed and began to cry, startling his older siblings and his father, who got up from the sofa as quickly as he could, already picking up his youngest son and gently shaking him.

-It's okay… it's okay… - Aemond hummed softly to Aenar as he rocked him and stroked his back, gurgling soothingly to the little one who was crying more from the fright than from the actual pain.

-Where does it hurt?? - Aemond asked after his son had calmed down.

-My knee, daddy... - Aenar murmured with a cute pout that melted Aemond's heart, while simultaneously making him clench at the sight of tears on his son's soft cheeks.

-Is everything alright? - Y/n's voice sounded worried as she entered the room, already observing her husband and children.

-Aenar fell, Mommy. - Rhaella pouted as she looked at her little brother anxiously, just like Aemon, who hovered around his father and Aenar with eyes shining with unease.

-Does it hurt, my love? - Y/n approached and, just like Aemond, gently stroked his son's back, who was now lying against his father's chest. Without saying yes or no, Aenar simply made a gesture with his thumb and forefinger, indicating to his parents that it hurt only a little.

-It's okay, Mommy's going to give you a kiss, okay? - Aemond stroked Aenar's silver hair as he spoke, and the boy simply nodded, clinging to his father.

With a smile, Y/n leaned down and gave a quick kiss to his son's knee, who only smiled softly while rubbing his sleepy eyes.

-Aenar, look here.- Aemon tugged at his younger brother's shirt hem while making silly faces to try and make him laugh.

The laughter was as subtle as before, and now it was accompanied by a yawn. With that in mind, Aemond simply sighed, smiling slightly, and decided to take the little one for a nap before his sleepiness, combined with his injured knee, completely ruined his mood.

It was only when he went upstairs with Aenar in his arms that Aemond noticed Browsheeps jumping around him restlessly, in what, for a dog, seemed to be the closest thing to a mixture of curiosity and desperation. Aemond still didn't like dogs, but he had to admit, Browsheeps and Skytas were good dogs.

❦❦❦

That afternoon seemed to pass more quickly than usual; one moment they were in the living room, and the next they were getting ready to leave. Rhaella and Aemon were already ready and dressed downstairs while Aenar lay on the floor of his room reading his cloth books, since he was too small to go to the event and usually got tired quickly, especially in crowded places.

In the next room, Aemond gazed at his wife with enchantment, as she wore a flowing royal blue dress with a sash that further accentuated the subtle curve of her belly. After all, according to Y/n herself, everyone would want photos of her that night, so she would look as beautiful as possible in all of them, something that, for Aemond, didn't require much effort.

-You look beautiful in that color. - Aemond leaned over her and murmured appreciatively in her ear, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

-I look beautiful in any color. - Y/n smiled vainly as she finished fixing her hair, then turned and kissed her husband's jaw.

-I can't disagree with that… - The older one smiled, kissing her lips softly, making his wife close her eyes and sigh.

-Where did you leave the cufflinks you asked me to wear?- Aemond whispered against her neck, lightly inhaling the soft perfume emanating from his wife's smooth skin, which enchanted him.

-On the top shelf of the closet. - She nodded towards the side door, sighing as she felt her husband move away from her.

-Why did you put them here? - Aemond murmured, confused, reaching for the small box containing two silver cufflinks with blue stones on the highest shelf of the closet.

After all, he and Y/n only kept things up there that they didn't want the children to find under any circumstances. Like the box full of obscene photos they had taken of each other over the years, or toys and costumes they used occasionally in bed. Especially Y/n when she was trying to tease him.

-I was coming home from the studio and Aenar was chasing after me with Browsheeps. - Y/n rolled her eyes as she finished applying a little more blush to her cheeks, looking at herself in the mirror and observing the closet door in the reflection. -It was the same day I bought that babydoll you loved taking off me, so I just put everything up there and then forgot to take it down.

-Mmm… - Aemond appeared leaning against the closet door frame, putting on his cufflinks, with a mischievous smile on his lips that made it seem like he was savoring that memory, and he probably was.

-Are you sure you want to take your mind down that path? - Y/n arched her eyebrows, getting up from the dressing table and going to help her husband with his sleeves.

-It's almost impossible not to take it when you just reminded me of that night. - He held her firmly by the hips, still with that smile on his lips and his purplish-blue eyes shining as he looked at her.

-If my hair wasn't ready, I could even do something for you. - She pouted as she murmured softly near Aemond's ear, making him shudder slightly.

-Then we'd better go downstairs before I give up on this damn ball. - He hissed, rolling his eyes and making her laugh as she moved away from her husband.

As with all of Y/n's pregnancies, Aemond kept an even sharper eye on her when she wore a long dress, since in his mind, she could slip on all that fabric at any moment.

When the two finally reached the bottom of stairs, Y/n rolled her eyes with a smile and went alone towards the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Dancil, since the woman as usual would be taking care of Aenar that night.

After Y/n repeated at least a hundred times that if she had any problems whatsoever, she should call immediately, they finally managed to get into the car and head towards the ball, much to the delight of their children who couldn't wait to participate in such an important event.

❦❦❦

The sun was already setting when the four of them crossed the red carpet together, caught in a whirlwind of flashes exploding incessantly. Aemond held Rhaella's hand with his left hand while keeping his right hand around his wife, who in turn held Aemon's hand firmly in hers.

The children were still too young to understand implications, gossip, or newspapers, so in those moments they just laughed sincerely and blew a kiss or two to the cameras, causing even Aemond to give a genuine smile at that moment, fleeting, but completely sincere.

Rhaella loved those nights of balls or parties because she could ask her mother to design a dress as beautiful as a princess's and be seen by everyone wearing it. It wasn't like when she dressed up to play at home; it was more real, and it made her feel like a real princess, something her father always said she was.

Aemon, for his part, loved being in any bustling environment where he could chat and be the center of attention, so being there wearing the cutest light blue suit ever seen, while everyone took hundreds of photos of him and endlessly told him how adorable he was, made him absolutely happy.

Y/n and Aemond were happy when they were out of the photographers' sights and descended the long staircases of the ballroom, which seemed enchanting with its wide vaulted ceiling and its antique aesthetic reminiscent of the age of conquest, where everything was covered in pure gold and silver.

Suddenly all eyes seemed to have turned to them, but none of the four seemed to care; they just smiled and walked towards Helaena and Jaehaera, who were standing near a high table, drinking what looked like fizzy melon juice.

As soon as the children saw each other, Y/n had to stifle a laugh, as Jaehaera began to jump up and down with excitement while the three gathered to begin discussing their important matters.

-Hasn't Aegon arrived yet? - Aemond frowned, looking around the hall and not finding his older brother's platinum head, only Viserys's, who was next to Alicent talking to Corlys and Rhaenys.

-Daeron’s flight was delayed, and now they’re both late. - Helaena rolled her eyes, making Aemond snort with a chuckle.

The most irritating part of that ball was having to go around greeting people in order to find a reason to talk business and get good deals. Doing this with Aegon was bad enough, but doing it alone was almost torturous.

Normally he would ask Y/n to go with him if his brother was late, but he wasn’t going to force her to walk around listening to conversations he knew she hated, especially since she was pregnant and suffering from mood swings that were sometimes anything but subtle.

-I'm going for a walk… - He hummed against her ear, feeling his wife nod and smile as she grabbed a glass of sparkling melon juice for herself. Her eyes were fixed on the top of the stairs, probably waiting for the Stark family to come down so she could attend to her own deals.

In the end, Aemond's walk through the hall was very productive, as the Celtigars had plans for a larger expansion into the continent next year, and this could benefit Targaryen Inc. if they seized the opportunity intelligently.

With a satisfied smile after arranging a meeting with Bartimos Celtigar, Aemond stepped away from the crowd to get some water and wet his throat, while the profusion of conversations and agreements continued without him.

Bright lights illuminated the entire ballroom, and Aemond could see high society gossiping and sniping as was common. Slowly his gaze shifted, finding Floris Baratheon in the corner of the hall, who sported a firm expression as she stood beside her husband, Jason Lannister, equally stoic as he sipped a glass of champagne.

The next moment, Mrs. Martell, wearing a stunning gold dress designed for her by Y/n as an exclusive design, approached them both. As soon as they saw her approaching, both broke into smiles as Jason instantly put his arm around Floris's waist, pulling her closer, suddenly seeming happier than ever.

-Baratheon Industries had record sales this year with Floris as vice president. - Otto's restrained voice, still exuding bitterness, suddenly sounded beside Aemond, as if his grandfather had emerged from a hole in the ground. -Borros has already made it clear to the partners that she will succeed him, and Jason is being favored by the shareholders at Casterly Rock because of it.

-I don't see how their lives could interest me. -Aemond rolled his eyes, paying no attention to what his grandfather was saying as he took the last sips of his water.

-It could be you, Aemond! - Otto hissed furiously, his back to the hall so the others wouldn't notice his anger. - I built everything so that it would be you! This was supposed to be your life!

-It could be - Aemond murmured, raising an eyebrow and looking seriously at the older man. - If I gave a shit about what you say and wanted to live a life that wasn't worth living.

He glanced once more at Jason and Floris, and as Mrs. Martell walked away, the two also gradually moved away from each other, returning to the serious and empty expressions they had previously displayed upon the arrival of the older woman.

Aemond's gaze then turned to the more illuminated side of the hall where his wife smiled, listening to Helaena tell her something, while resting her left hand on her own belly and carefully stroking Rhaella's hair with her right, who in turn lay against her mother with both hands on her belly, looking enchanted. He could see Y/n's cheerful gaze occasionally drifting away from Helaena to observe Aemon and Jaehaera, who were now playing a game together to see who could make the funniest face.

-If you'll excuse me. - Aemond murmured to his grandfather without waiting for a reply before withdrawing, a barely contained smile inevitably shining on his lips, and heading towards his family.

As soon as she saw her father approaching, Rhaella began to jump and smile, seemingly brimming with eagerness to speak to him.

-Daddy, Daddy! - She practically screamed with excitement, still with her hands on Y/n's belly, making the older woman laugh. -My little sister is moving!

-Really, my dear? - Aemond smiled discreetly, approaching and resting his hand on his wife's belly, feeling his own heart warm and race as he experienced once again the first movements of one of his children with his Y/n.

-Careful… - Y/n murmured with a smile, looking him in the eyes. -People will stop calling you the devil behind your back if they see you being so soft.

-I'll find a way to scare everyone again. - Aemond sighed back as if he were making light of it and smiled slightly, seeing that he had managed to elicit another laugh from his wife.

-Did you speak with many important people, Daddy? - Rhaella asked, tugging at the hem of his suit and looking at him curiously, her purplish-blue eyes gleaming with expectation.

-Mmm... I'm probably speaking with the most important ones of all right now. - Aemond hummed , leaving a kiss through the silver hair of his eldest daughter, who giggled toothlessly, then widened her eyes with excitement, causing Aemond to turn in the direction she was looking, only to see Aegon, Daeron, and the no-longer-younger Jaehaerys descending the hall stairs.

-Uncle Daeron! - She smiled, hugging him warmly as Daeron approached close enough, since he had been in Dorne for a few weeks helping with a study a friend had started, which had taken them all over the country searching for books, only old volumes of which were available for local reference.

They all hated it when Daeron spent too much time away, but they were all overjoyed when he finally returned home.

-How's my love? - Daeron smiled, picking her up in a single impulse, making her laugh. -Did you receive the gift I sent you?

-Yes! -She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. - I even put it on the shelf near my bed, Uncle Daeron.

Amidst their conversation, Jaehaera and Aemon were already chattering away, trying to get their newly arrived uncle's attention, saying they had also liked the gifts they received, and cheerfully asking if he would be staying in town for a few more days.

-I feel completely neglected… - Aegon sighed dramatically, making Helaena and Aemond roll their eyes while Y/n mocked him.

-You're in my house bothering us practically every night. - Y/n smiled ironically at her cousin. - There's no time left for anyone to miss you.

Aegon only refrained from flipping her the middle finger because they were in a very public setting, so the most he could do was quietly tell her to fuck off so the children wouldn't hear.

Amidst the conversation, the subject quickly turned to Jaehaerys, who blushed and smiled happily upon receiving congratulations from his family, as he had been accepted into the arts program at Highgarden College, something that made Aegon unable to stop smiling.

-Dad, don't call me that in front of everyone! - Jaehaerys murmured, blushing when his father called him by his sweet childhood nickname, which had now become somewhat embarrassing when used in public, after all, he was practically a grown man, not a little mouse.

-Enjoy it while they're still not ashamed of you. - Aegon murmured, making a face at Aemond.

-You can call me little mouse, Uncle Egg. -Jaehaera murmured shyly, tugging at the hem of her uncle's suit.

-Oh no, I can't... - He said in a muffled, laughing voice, lifting her off the ground by her armpits and pulling her up, making her scream and laugh. -Because you're my sweet little Ladybug!

Amidst all the family's chatter and laughter, Aemond's gaze turned to his wife, who seemed to have been shifting her weight between her right and left legs for some time now.

-Don't you think you've been standing for too long, my lady? - He whispered, his lips close to her ear, resting his hand gently on her swollen belly with their little girl in a soft caress.

-Well, be kind and get me a chair, husband. - She smiled against his neck, gazing at him from under her eyelashes in such a sweet way that it could have taken away the bitterness from the entire universe, in Aemond's mind.

❦❦❦

The night continued amidst conversations, negotiations, and plenty of gossip, while an easily disturbed stability, as always, hung over the hall. They almost had a problem when one of Rhaenyra's youngest children, Viserys, stepped on the hem of Rhaella's dress for the third time in a row, resulting in Aemon headbutting him in the stomach in an attempt to protect his sister.

Luckily, people didn't pay much attention to the petty children's squabbles, but they would have paid attention to the shouting matches between Rhaenyra, Aemond, and Y/n, if Viserys and Rhaenys hadn't taken the three of them to the back room before the commotion exploded in public, with Aemond insinuating that she should find the real father of the younger children to teach them some manners.

Finally, the brothers' argument ended as it always did, with Viserys doing and saying anything to calm tempers and mitigate damage, while Rhaenys watched everything with a disgusted grimace.

Fortunately, that was the only skirmish of the night, and after that they did their best to avoid crossing paths again. The hours seemed to fly by, and watching their children, both Y/n and Aemond could see that they were exhausted after such a hectic day; even Aemon was sitting with his head resting on his beloved aunt Helaena's shoulder.

-I'll ask the valet to bring the car. - Aemond whispered to his wife, who sighed in relief and nodded.

As Aemond went to prepare the car, Y/n began to say goodbye to her cousins ​​and beloved nephews, watching Rhaella and Aemon do the same as they arranged with Jaehaera that everyone could play together the next day, since Aemond and Y/n had invited them to dinner.

When Aemond returned, he didn't stand on ceremony; he simply said goodbye to his closest family, just as his wife had done, before they could leave. Leaving the ball was relatively easier than entering, and Y/n sighed in relief as the fresh, pure night air greeted her outside the hall, making her just want to stand there and breathe.

-Mom, can I take off my dress?- Rhaella asked with a pout as she got into the car, making Y/n smile and help her daughter remove the top part of her elaborate, frilly pink dress, leaving her only in the short-sleeved white blouse and the matching white shorts underneath so she could play more comfortably during the night.

-Tired? - Aemond murmured, helping her into the car shortly after, causing her to tease as she snuggled into the soft leather seat and then pulled him close, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

The drive home wasn't very long, but even so, as they were already exhausted, both Rhaella and Aemon couldn't make it halfway without falling into a deep sleep. Aemon's head was resting against the seat's armrest, his mouth open, while Rhaella lay against her younger brother's shoulder, drooling in her sleep.

-There must be some kind of tranquilizer in the air vents of this car. - Aemond grumbled with a chuckle as he arrived home and opened the back door to observe the little ones with his wife after helping her out of the car.

-Should we wake them up? -Y/n sighed, looking at her husband apprehensively, both because she felt sorry for waking the children and because she didn't know if they would fall asleep again if woken.

-Mmh… - Aemond smiled, shaking his head, then leaned into the car and carefully unbuckled his seatbelts. -I'll take them both to bed.

Without much effort, he picked Rhaella up, who babbled complainingly with a sleepy grimace as she clung to her father, pressed against his left hip.

-Don't strain yourself, my love… - He grumbled to Y/n as she leaned into the car to pick up Aemon.

-I'll only take him out for you. - She whispered, looking at him over her shoulder. - There's no way you can take him out of the car with Rhae in your arms.

As gently as possible so as not to wake him, Y/n took Aemon out of the car, and she had barely held him when Aemond took their younger son with his right arm and carefully placed him against his hip, just as he had done with Rhaella. Aemon simply clung to the lapels of his father's suit, grumbling softly in his sleep, something that was common for him.

Y/n was always surprised when her husband picked up the children without any apparent effort, as if they weighed absolutely nothing to him. And she practically sighed as Aemond carefully climbed the stairs toward the bedrooms, appearing completely unfazed.

First, he entered Rhaella's room, followed by Y/n and Skytas, who snuggled up on the rug. Carefully, Aemond tucked his eldest daughter into bed, snuggling her between the soft sheets and fluffy blanket as she hugged Mr. Rabbit, who was still there from the previous night.

-Sweet dreams, love. - Aemond whispered against his daughter's forehead, leaving a soft kiss before getting up and heading to Aemon's room.

Just as her husband Y/n kissed their daughter's forehead and gently stroked her hair, leaving the room and closing the door behind her, leaving only the flickering light of the bedside lamp on, she followed Aemond down the hallway.

Aemon's bedroom door was open, and Aenar was already fast asleep on the bed, while Browsheeps rested on his back on the soft rug at the foot of the bed, just as Mrs. Dancill had told them both when she opened the entrance hall door for them a little while earlier.

Aemond gently placed Aemon on the bed, and taking care not to wake either of the children, he and Y/n removed the little boy's dress pants and button-down shirt, leaving him only in his cotton undershirt and underwear for a more comfortable sleep.

Without making a sound, Y/n turned on the star-shaped bedside lamp and watched with a smile as Aemon snuggled under the covers while Aenar sucked his thumb, clutching his inseparable blue blanket. Murmuring a joint goodnight, the couple closed the children's bedroom door, leaving only a small crack as they did every night, and walked together towards the stairs.

-You know, if I weren't already pregnant, I'd beg you to get me pregnant again today… - Y/n laughed, biting her lower lip as they descended the last step of the stairs, making Aemond chuckle slightly, grab her by the hips, and pull her close.

-May I know the reason? - He growled against her ear, making her melt even more in his arms.

-I consider myself a very lucky woman. - She shrugged, crossing her arms around his neck. -The Gods gave me everything I could ask for, including a husband with such impeccable bearing that I desire him every hour of the day.

-Mmmh… - Aemond hummed with a smile, guiding her to the living room without letting her out of his arms. -You flatter me, My Lady.

-You know I love it when you call me that… - She sighed contentedly against his chest, making him smile.

-That's exactly why I call you… my lady. - He teased her with a mischievous smile as he pressed the radio button, making a song start playing softly throughout the room.

-Oh, I love this song. - Y/n smiled, already swaying her body gently to the sweet and gentle rhythm of the guitar that began to play. While the moonlight streamed through the living room windows, its silvery rays illuminating the gleaming polished wooden floor and casting a pearly sheen on the white cotton and voile curtains.

-I happen to know that too… - Aemond teased, making her roll her eyes, and again placed his hands on his wife's hips. - May I have this dance?

-I've told you a thousand times, Aem… - She murmured with a laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling closer to her husband. -I grant you all of them.

The music played calmly through the radio as Y/n swayed gently against Aemond with a smile on her lips. The older one hands rested on his wife's wide waist, occasionally leaving a gentle caress there and feeling their unborn daughter kicking against his palm.

-In a few months I'll have to add another stone to your ring… -Aemond sighed, curving his lips, gently pulling his wife's hand and placing a soft kiss on the ring that now had three sparkling stones, one for Rhaella, one for Aemon, and one for Aenar.

-And another star on your shoulder. - She rolled her eyes, caressing the spot on her husband's tattoo over his shirt, since, just like the stones on Y/n's ring, each of the small stars above the swallow tattoo was for one of their children.

-Mmm. - Aemond murmured with a smile, leaving a soft kiss against her temple.

-We have to choose a name for her. - Y/n murmured with an easy smile on her lips as her husband slowly turned her around and held her by the waist once more.

-Well, I have an idea… - He smiled against his wife's neck and left a sweet kiss there in the process.

It was Aemond who had chosen Rhaella's name, just as Y/n had chosen the boys' names. Aemon, after Aemond, and Aenar, because as the name of her favorite character in one of the books Aemond read to her during their childhood. Therefore, it would be more than fair that he choose the name of they second daughter.

-And what would that be? - She sighed contentedly, still smiling and tilting her neck a little more to make room for her husband's kisses.

-Aelys… - Aemond murmured in her ear with a lopsided smile, making her shiver.

-I like that name. - Y/n sighed with a smile as she crossed her arms behind her husband's back and pulled him even closer to her. - Where did that inspiration come from?

-Well, considering the fact that she was probably conceived that weekend when we left the kids with Hel and took some time for ourselves in Lys… - His voice sounded cheerful as he moved them slowly to the rhythm of the music, still kissing Y/n's neck, shrugging slightly before concluding. -I thought maybe it was an appropriate name.

Y/n couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh, holding onto her husband's shoulders for balance, as she remembered the sweet and warm memories of that last trip to Lys.

-Aelys… - She slowly tested the name on her own lips with a smile. -I think I like your suggestion.

-Well then… - Aemond shrugged with a lopsided smile. -We have a name for our daughter.

-Isn't that right, Aelys? - He murmured, caressing his wife's belly and feeling his heart ache when Aelys lightly kicked his palm, as if subtly approving of his choice of name.

There, illuminated only by the pale moonlight reflecting on Aemond's silver hair, making him look like an angel, Y/n fell in love with her husband once more, just as she had been doing throughout her life, and just as she would continue to do until the end of her days.

Completely lost in the sparkle of his wife's gaze, Aemond leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, taking for himself all the love he knew she felt for him.

-Do you still love me the same way? - Y/n smiled against his lips, a little breathless after the kiss.

-No. - Aemond murmured, staring at her very seriously, but betrayed by the passionate glint in his eyes before a smile could even spread across his lips as he finished his sentence. - I love you even more now.

❦❦❦ The End ❦❦❦

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries @palomavz

N/a²: I don't know what to say. I can hardly believe I got this far and managed to finish this story. I would like to thank each and every one of the sweet and kind people who followed, read, and commented on this story throughout the chapters, every little comment or encouragement kept me writing and motivated me to bring it to an end. And a special thank you to my dear Zenka who has been supporting me from the first chapter until now, in this epilogue. Thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this story and the ending it had.

It was very special for me to write The Gossip, and I hope everyone remembers that our lives and our choices belong only to ourselves.

A note

I wrote this fluffy angst with a pinch of smut last year, using “You” and "Your Name" 😅

At that time, I was a novice and had no idea how the fanfic world worked. I thought it wasn't a fanfic if it wasn't a reader insert 🫣

Over time, however, I realized that while I love reading both reader inserts and OCs equally, writing in the second person may not be my cup of chai after all. And before someone comes at me, I want to clarify that I am not against reader inserts and the use of Y/N. Some of the best works I've read here have been written in the first or second person. And I fucking adore them.

Since I'm reposting this fic series with a few edits, I've converted the female protagonist into an original character and given her a name: Inara Maegyr, a medic from Essos who also happens to be a trained make-up and prosthetic artist.

18 years ago

“Daddy, Granny, can I hold Nina now?” 

Inara’s small voice broke through the muted chaos of the hospital, drawing her father’s attention as he returned to the waiting lobby after a quiet exchange with the staff. The place buzzed with activity—nurses in scrubs hurried past, wheelchairs rolled across the tiled floors. 

Her curious, fire-colored eyes were fixed on the infant cradled in her grandmother’s arms. Her two-month-old sister stirred, her tiny fingers curling against her grandmother’s cardigan. Inara’s father glanced down at her with both exhaustion and tenderness, as he took the baby in his arms from his mother-in-law, and seated himself on the chair beside Inara’s. 

 “Not now, honey. When we get back home, you can hold her for as long as you want, okay?” He assured her, and shifted his focus to feeding formula to the baby.

Inara's gaze wandered to the television screen on the reception, its bright screen flashing images of a news broadcast that paused intermittently during announcements that her little mind couldn’t understand. Restlessness had begun to creep in.

“Dad,” she whispered, looking up at him, “When will Mumma be back?”  

“She’ll be back soon, darling,” he replied, as if trying to convince himself as much as her. 

“And then we will go home?” Inara's gaze dropped to the bundle in her father’s arms again. 

“Yes, we will.”

Hours had passed since they had been sitting there, waiting for news from the surgical wing. Driftmark was a long way from their home in Volantis, but Inara’s mother had needed the specialist surgeons there for her rare condition, which worsened after the birth of her sister.

“Daddy, when I grow up, I’m going to be a doctor,” she declared with an innocent determination. “Then you and Mumma will never have to come to a hospital.” 

Chuckling softly, her father leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, love,” he said, his voice thick with affection. Then, he pointed to his backpack.

 “Open that. I got something for you.”  

Inara obeyed, pulling out a book with a vivid, glossy cover. A picture of a massive, bronze dragon spanned its cover, back and front. 

“Dance of the dragons,” she read aloud, her small fingers tracing the title on the cover. Her eyes lit up with wonder and she enquired, “Daddy, are there dragons in the world?”  

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he said, smiling softly. “But hundreds of years ago, dragons lived in the world and magical people rode them. There were dragons, right here in Driftmark, too.”  

Her eyes widened in awe. “Wow,” she breathed, looking around as though expecting one to appear at any moment.  

Her father chuckled again at her reaction, looping his arm around her tiny shoulders and drawing her closer as she started turning the pages of her new book with utmost focus.

 “This hospital we’re sitting in? It was once a castle and belonged to the ruling lords here.” 

She only nodded at his words, already lost in the dragon-filled pages of her new book.

“Are you hungry, love? Do you want to munch on something with your new book?” he asked, caressing her hair. She nodded again, her attention still fixed on the illustrations.

“Here, take this,” he said, pressing a few pennies into her little palm. “Get whatever you wish from the vending machine over there,” he added, pointing across the hall.

Clutching her book, little Inara ambled toward the vending machine. But midway, a sharp, enraged voice froze her in her tracks.

“Where were you? Where were you when the fight broke?” A woman, impeccably dressed in a green sweater and matching trousers, cried out in anguish, startling everyone in the vicinity.

Inara turned toward the source and saw a teenaged, silver-haired boy being yanked by the collar of his T-shirt.

“Me?” the boy stammered. His confusion was only met with a stinging slap across his face.

“Ow! What was that for?” the boy yelped, his hand flying to his cheek in shock.

“This is nothing compared to the pain your brother is going to suffer for the rest of his life!” 

The commotion drew the attention of everyone nearby. Conversations stopped, and the air buzzed with unease. 

Inara, clutching her book tightly, stood still, nervously observing the scene and forgetting about her candy.

“Ma’am, this is a hospital. Please keep it down,” a staff member intervened.

“Alicent, calm down,” came the voice of an older man with the same striking silver hair. “This is not a place for an outburst.”

“Our child has been maimed by your daughter’s son, and you’re asking me to calm down?” the woman sobbed harder, pointing randomly at the hospital staff, “They’re saying he’ll never see out of one eye again!”

“It was an accident, Alicent,” the older man said, his tone tinged with resignation, but it only fueled the woman’s frustration. 

“I’m taking my son to Oldtown,” she declared, sniffing, “Citadel has the best neurosurgeons. Father has arranged everything.” She wiped her tears but her voice still broke.

“Sir, Ma’am, he’s here,” a brown-eyed man hurried into view, addressing the older man and his shaken up wife.

All eyes turned to see a boy, no older than ten, being wheeled into the lobby by hospital staff. A bandage was tied around his head, covering one of his eyes. His mother and the older silver-haired boy rushed to his side.

“Inara!”

Her father’s voice snapped her out of the scene unfolding before her. He began approaching his daughter with quick strides, his face creased with concern. 

Spotting her father, Inara ran toward him, her small legs moving fast. But in her haste, the book slipped from her hands, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

She turned to retrieve it, but before she could, the injured boy stood from his wheelchair, his movements slow and strained.

 “My darling, don’t get up. We’re about to leave,” His mother protested in concern.

“I’m fine,” the boy replied in a steady voice, despite the discomfort visible in his features. He bent down and picked up the book.

He glanced at the book’s cover for a moment, his features briefly lighting with interest before his brows knitted together as if the effort of reading from one eye caused him pain. A grimace crossed his face before he silently extended the book back to her.

Inara’s father was by her side now, holding her hand protectively. “Come, darling. I’ll get you your candy,” he said softly, as she took the book from the boy.

But Inara didn’t move. Her gaze lingered on the boy, drawn by something her young heart couldn’t quite name. Before she could second-guess herself, she held the book out to him.

 “Keep it, please,” she insisted, “I’m sorry you got hurt, I hope you get well soon.” she added in a sincere, innocent voice. 

The boy hesitated, his good eye flickering from her to the book. He took it without a word. 

Her father beamed at his little girl’s heartfelt gesture, his pride shining in his eyes. Alicent, too moved to find her voice, offered a warm smile to both the children and Inara’s father. With a subtle nod, she signaled to the nurse to take her son to the cars waiting outside.

“Come dear, you shouldn’t exert yourself like this,” a nurse gently chided, taking the boy’s hand and guiding him back to the wheelchair.

As the nurse wheeled him away, Inara’s father tightened his grip on her hand and led her in the opposite direction. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, watching the boy disappear out of the hospital gates, the dragon-covered book resting in his lap.

-

-

Inara’s eyes fluttered open to the scratchy call of a seagull flying by. 

For a brief moment, her mind was a calm, untroubled pond, an unperturbed haze hanging over it. 

Then, cruel clarity came crashing through, rippling those calm waters and cutting through the haze. 

She stayed on the floor, curled up in her defeat. Her eyes stayed fixed on the couch - a few steps away - where they had sat together only hours ago.

 The glass he had sipped water from still rested on the table, the cushions still crumpled, the seat wrinkled at the spot where he sat - close, so achingly close to her.

Close enough to give her everything she had longed for. 

Close enough to make her his, to complete her in a way that felt both inevitable and terrifying.

And she hadn’t let him.

The weight of the memory crushed her chest, and tears threatened to spill, but she fought them. 

She had made her choice. A choice that would keep her life simple, uncomplicated.

A simple life. That’s what she had told him she wanted.

"I will put the whole world at your feet, Inara."

She closed her eyes tightly, willing the memory of last night to dissolve, as if shutting them would block the image of him from her mind too - the sadness etched into his features, the heartbreak clouding his gaze, the disappointment that had flickered across his face when she turned him down.

She forced herself to her feet, her legs unsteady as she made her way to the bedroom. She desperately needed sleep, though she knew it would not come easily. Not when the touch of his lips still lingered on her skin. Not when his voice echoed in her heart.

Dropping herself onto the bed, she spotted her phone lying exactly where it slipped out of her hand at night. 

Picking it up, she scrolled through the sea of notifications from her family, until Sara Snow’s text caught her eye:  

Doctor! Don’t forget. 8 PM tonight. My place. 

Thoughtfully, Sara had included her address.

It had been ten days since Sara had invited her to the party. So much had happened since then - too much. Time had flown by, chaotic and relentless, and Inara completely forgot about the invitation. 

But attending a party felt like an absurdity now. It was hard for her to even imagine feigning small talk or laughter, with that disarrayed state of her mind - her life.

She barely had the energy to drag through the two last days in King's Landing.

And a knot tightened in her chest at the mere thought of possibly seeing Aemond again.

 With a sigh, she typed out a response:

I won't be able to make it tonight, Sara. Leaving on monday and still a lot to pack. Sorry 🙁

Sara’s reply came within minutes, swift and uncompromising:  

🙄 I'm sending a car to fetch you. Be ready by 7🥰

Inara let out a soft groan, torn between frustration and resignation. Part of her hoped Aemond wouldn’t be there - she wasn’t sure she could bear to be in his presence without crumbling. 

Yet, her heart betrayed her, quickening its rhythm at the mere thought of seeing him again.

-

Inara stared at her reflection in the mirror - a transformation of herself. A pair of ivory high-waisted trousers, and a gold silk camisole that enhanced the amber of her eyes, hugged her curves at just the right places. Her waist-length hair cascaded in soft curls, framing her face and allowing the diamond studs in her ears to catch the light. 

She had always loved makeup, though seldom wore it herself. Today, she needed it to remove the despondence overshadowing her features. The makeup magnified her flawless, devastating beauty to several notches, but couldn't hide the sadness that floated in her eyes.

“I won’t let anything happen to us"

With a deep, quivering breath, she steeled herself, picked up her coat and bag and left the house. 

-

Sara's place exuded a perfect blend of pomp and sophistication. The spacious hall, bathed in the soft, warm glow of chandeliers, was alive with the hum of conversation and laughter. Exquisite food adorned the tables, their aromas mingling in the air.

The laughter and chatter around felt distant, as Inara’s gaze involuntarily swept over the gathering, seeking the one person she longed to see, yet feared encountering. 

But she could not find him.

He is not here. He must have not come. 

A mix of relief and disappointment washed over her.

"Doctor!" Sara's familiar, cheerful voice cut through the lively chatter and music, pulling Inara from her thoughts and bringing a smile to her face. She spotted the hostess standing with a tall, brown-haired, ruggedly handsome man, drinks in hand.

"Gosh doctor, have you considered working in movies? You'd give sleepless nights to the crowds," Sara's unrestrained compliment, as Inara approached, brought a blush to her face.

"Cregan, this is the one I told you about," Sara chirped.

Cregan Stark, Sara's half-brother, took Inara's hand and pressed his lips to it. The gesture took her by surprise, the gentleness contrasting with his tough exterior.

"And that's Jace," Sara continued, pointing to a slightly shorter man with curly hair, DJing for the night. He waved at Inara with a smile that seemed to light up the room.

“Where are your manners, Snow? Forgetting to introduce your most important guest,” came a lazy, mocking voice from behind.

Inara turned, recognizing the man instantly. She had seen him at the Targaryen mansion when she came to tend to his father. His features, were softer than Aemond's, but carried a mischievous gloom. Despite his slightly unkempt and casual appearance, his Targaryen charm still shone through.

“Stop giving yourself so much importance, Aegon,” Sara muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Dr. Maegyr,” he said with a sweeping bow, ignoring Sara's jab, “I’m sure you know my brother—same hair, taller than me, broody but a fine, sweet thing?” Aegon chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment.

At the mention of Aemond, Inara’s heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening. She forced a smile with a little nod.

“I’ve met your sister too, Helaena, she’s very kind,” Inara attempted to steer the conversation to safer ground, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.

“Kind, yes, and boring,” Aegon replied, rolling his eyes dramatically and letting out an exaggerated puff of air. “We have nothing in common. She hates parties!” He took a sip from his drink, glancing around. 

Sara, noticing the palpable awkwardness, stepped in, offering her hand to Inara. “Come, let me get you a drink,” she led her away from Aegon’s stupid smirk. 

-

The evening drifted away, and gradually Inara began to feel the weight of everything around.

Faces drifted in and out of view, some familiar, some entirely foreign. The crowd of wealthy strangers, with their polished conversations and facades, reminded her of a world she didn’t belong to. Reminded her that she was an outsider, her simple tastes at odds with the lavishness surrounding her.

It was only in her brief conversation with Cregan Stark that she found herself able to breathe a little easier. Despite belonging to one of Westeros' most influential families, there was a humbleness about him that stood out. His words didn’t seem to carry any arrogance, nor did they reflect any ulterior motives she’d come to expect in such circles.

“You should come and see the Northern Lights in Winterfell,” Cregan said, his voice warm and inviting. “They’re exquisite. Our travel and tours company organizes special trips to the wall, ..”

“Do you never tire of boasting about your country, Stark?”

Aegon’s sneering voice cut through, thick with wine and derision.

Cregan, ever the gentleman, didn’t rise to Aegon’s bait. Instead, he offered a polite smile and quietly excused himself, as though a conversation with Aegon would have been too trivial to pursue.

Inara was stranded to deal with Aegon’s chaotic presence. A stench of alcohol lingered in the air between them, his grin widening. She forced herself to remain composed, though her patience was dwindling.

“So,” he drawled, his voice rich with mockery, “lover’s spat?”

Inara stiffened, her grip tightening around her glass. 

She willed her voice to remain steady, even as a faint flush crept to her cheeks. “I... I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” she replied, mustering every ounce of politeness she could summon.

But Aegon ignored her attempt to steer the conversation away, “He’s not here, and he’s not at home - his staff told me as much,” Aegon chuckled, “I think I know where he might be.”

Her mind churned, seeking an exit from the increasingly suffocating conversation. She had been in situations like this before, with men who reveled in crossing boundaries. She masked the discomfort behind a sip of wine, deciding quietly to excuse herself soon.

“I thought he stopped going to Sylvi after he…” Aegon began, but then, as if catching himself, he rephrased, “…met you.”

Inara’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “Sylvi?” she could not help but ask as the unfamiliar name caught her attention.

Aegon chuckled, a muffled, almost derisive sound. “Sylvi is Aemond’s whore,” he said shrugging, the brazenness of the statement sending a shock through her system.

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to hold his gaze, though her composure began to crack at the edges.

Aegon waved a dismissive hand, his tone growing lighter as if his words were harmless. “Relax, it’s nothing. Besides,” he added, with an impish grin, “he’s crazy about you.”

His words hung in the air, unease coiling around her. She couldn’t respond. Instead, she downed her wine in one gulp, the burn of it doing little to mitigate the discomfort. 

She looked around, the hall already half empty as guests had begun to leave. There was no point in staying anymore. Nausea threatened her as she feared encountering another incident like with Jason Lannister. 

“I’ve got to leave,” she said abruptly, setting her glass down. She stepped away, putting distance between her and Aegon. 

Aegon blinked, as if realizing he had overstepped. “Wait,” he said, his grin faltering into something almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to..”

Aegon trailed after her, his steps unsteady, the haze of wine clouding his senses. Just as his foot caught on the edge of the carpet, threatening a graceless fall, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, steadying him with startling force.

Aegon turned his head, blinking away his stupor, and found himself staring into the icy, unrelenting gaze of Aemond.

“Oh, you’re here?” Aegon let out a breathy chuckle, his attempt at nonchalance failing to mask the unease creeping into his tone. “Just lost my footing.” He shrugged.

“You’ve said and done enough,” Aemond replied in a low voice, his expression wooden, lips set in a grim line.

 Aegon snorted, waving his hands in mock surrender, his words slurring slightly. “Alright, alright, no need to get all dramatic.”

But Aemond didn’t bother responding to his brother’s idiocy, as his focus had already shifted, his stern features softening a smidgen, as his gaze flicked past Aegon.

Inara stood a few steps away, watching the two brothers silently. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes - her eyes betrayed the cyclone of emotions whirling inside.

Their gazes met, and it was as if the rest of the room fell away, leaving only the charged silence between them. 

And then, Aemond broke eye contact. He turned and strode out of the hall, disappearing through the doors to the rooftop terrace. 

Inara remained rooted in place, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a hesitant step toward the exit, her mind made up, but Aegon’s voice, softer and stripped of its earlier bravado, stopped her in her tracks. 

“Don’t leave,” he called out, his tone carrying a sincerity she hadn’t expected. He glanced at the doors to the terrace where Aemond had gone, his face showing a sliver of regret, “Not because of me, “I..I am sorry.”

Instead of Inara, it was Aegon who left the hall. 

Flustered, she reached for another drink and downed it in one swift motion, the burn of the wine offering a momentary distraction.

Sara, who had been simultaneously seeing her guests off and observing the scene unfolding from a distance, approached Inara. 

“He’s been here for some time,” Sara’s calm voice ceased the train of Inara’s thoughts, alrightly dulled slightly by the wine. “He enjoys his solitude at parties. That’s his way of having a good time.”

Inara didn’t respond immediately, her mind turning over the words, trying to make sense of everything. Sara’s gaze softened, as if she could see the weight Inara was carrying without needing to ask.

 "You’re safe here. Stay as long as you wish. My guests are almost gone," she said gently, looking around. Her hand settled on Inara’s wrist offering a quiet reassurance. 

Inara looked at Sara for a moment. Something in her quiet kindness eased the tension in her heart. 

"Thanks," she said in a meek voice. Then, as if coaxed by something beyond her control, her feet moved, and she found herself at the terrace doors, her hand resting on the door.

With a quiet breath, she pushed the doors open.

-

The expansive doors of the hall opened to a vast rooftop terrace, a breathtaking panoramic view of King's Landing sprawled before her. A pergola stood gracefully in a corner of the terrace, positioned to overlook the Blackwater Bay. Delicate lanterns and dainty fairy lights adorned its structure, casting a cozy, inviting glow on the couch placed underneath.

She spotted Aemond, clad in a deep green shirt, leaning lazily against one of the pergola’s pillars, observing the waters of Blackwater Bay, where the moonlight played across the rippling surface, creating a hypnotic shimmer 

As she neared him, the subtle shift in his posture, the slight tilt of his head at the sound of her footsteps told her that he noticed her arrival. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dark, before he exhaled a plume of smoke into the crisp night air.

She came to a stop by his side. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to fend off the shiver - whether from the cold or the nervous energy coiling in her chest, she couldn’t be certain.

For once she did not want to be certain. She did not want to be right. Or wrong.

For once, she just wished to push aside the endless swirl of rights and wrongs, of doubts and judgments that had haunted her for far too long. Because she was tired - so tired of running, thinking, and carrying the weight of uncertainty that seemed to shadow her at every turn. 

All she wanted was a moment. A moment of stillness, of quiet.

Even it was fleeting.

Even if it was the last moment she’d ever have with him.

And the tranquility of the night felt like an unspoken invitation to let it all go.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting ever so slightly until it came to rest against the pillar beside him. For a heartbeat, she let herself drown in the comfort of his proximity, the envelope of his scent on her senses, distinct and achingly familiar.

Coffee. Cigarettes. Sea.

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” she said softly, her voice barely rising above the whisper of the wind. Her eyes opened slowly, and she turned to look at him, her gaze searching his profile, "And to say goodbye.”

Aemond didn’t respond. His focus remained locked on the horizon, his features calm but distant, as if her words had dissolved into the night without reaching him.

Her chest tightened. She had expected nothing less, and yet it still stung.

Maybe this indifferent silence was what she deserved. She forced herself to accept it, to take it as her answer. 

With a quiet sigh, she turned to leave.

But a hand closed around her wrist, before she could step away. Warm. Firm.

“You are standing on my wrong side, ñuhus jorrāeliarzus.” His deep, velvety voice pulled the strings of her heart. 

"Huh?"

His hand guided her closer, pulling her gently yet deliberately until she came face-to-face with him. The same hand slid to her waist, his fingers splaying on her back, pulling her even closer. The space between them vanished in an instant.

Her lips parted involuntarily, a soft breath escaping her as her palms found their way to his shoulders. Each time he touched her, her very body rebelled against her own will. 

“I never told you before,” Aemond began, his voice quieter now, thumb circling against the fabric of her camisole, “I can’t see from my right eye. It’s dead—there’s no light in it.” 

He flicked his cigarette away, the ember snuffing out against the cold stone.

Stunned surprise lit her face. The revelation caught her off guard, sorrow swelling in her chest. 

“Aemond,” she whispered, barely audible, “how?”

A faint, almost bitter smile tugged at his lips. Even under the gloomy weight of his confession, he looked otherworldly - his silver hair catching the faint glow of the fairy lights, the sharp lines of his face softened by vulnerability. Her heart skipped a beat as his gaze momentarily dropped to her slightly parted lips. 

“A childhood fight,” he explained, recalling, “Jacerys’s brother, Luke, pushed me. I hit my head on a rock, hard.” He paused, his jaw tightening briefly before continuing, “ There was a minor brain stroke, but the damage... It was enough. Gradually, I lost my vision.” He shifted his gaze to the moon for a few moment, then back to her.

A strange pull tugged at her consciousness. A fleeting feeling of déjà vu suffused through her, as if she’d known this somehow, had been in the moment before.

An oddly familiar, yet eerie feeling left her momentarily unmoored. 

But the wine in her system made it easy for her to shake it off, and her fingers instinctively reached for his face. 

Her fingertips grazed his right eye, tenderly tracing his eyebrow. “Aemond,” she murmured again, her voice heavy with emotion. Words failed her. All she wanted was to fill that void in him.

To bring light to the darkness that followed him everywhere, all these years.

“I’m used to it now,” he said, his tone tinged with a quiet sadness. “This is a prosthetic, spent millions to make it look and move as real as possible.” He let out a wan chuckle, its sound carrying an effort of masking his pain - pain of living all these years, having something stolen from him, something he’d never fully regain.

For a few moments, the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore, filled the serene silence between them. Inara did not even realize when her head had come to rest on his chest, her eyes slipping closed, lulled by the stillness of the night and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

“Aegon took me to Sylvi when I turned thirteen,” Aemond began softly, his voice carrying a weight that tugged her back to the moment. “She taught me a lot about… everything.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her head, her gaze seeking his, as if silently urging him to go on.

“I used to…with her.. before. But not anymore,” he admitted, his words slow and deliberate. “It’s not just about that. Not anymore.. She’s a friend, a confidante, Inara.” 

The weight of his confession hit her, and she instinctively stepped out of his embrace, moving to the terrace railing.She needed space to think, to process. With her back to him, she stared out into the endless expanse of night.

“Every man has his sins,” he continued, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “ Everyone gets lost at some point, makes mistakes.”

The frown on her face did not relax. Her grip on the railing tightened as his words settled into her, each one cutting deeper.

“With Alys.. it started with meaningless sex, there was never any love.”

At the mention of Alys, her body stiffened. The suddenness of the revelation felt like a jolt, but she still didn’t turn to face him. She kepr staring resolutely at the horizon, letting the night, the vast sea and the crisp air, absorb her rising emotions.

“She tried to trap me,” Aemond said, his tone growing heavier, “claiming I was the father of her child. I had to marry her.”

Her breath hitched, and she finally turned sharply, her face pale with disbelief and hurt.

Aemond stepped closer, his gaze earnest as he took her disappointed face in his hands.

“The child didn’t look like me. He didn’t look like a Targaryen.”

Inara scoffed, pushing his hands away, exasperation mingling with the throbbing ache in her chest. 

“That’s not how genes work, Aemond.” Her voice cracked, and she took a step back, shaking her head as if trying to shield herself from the flood of information threatening to swallow her sanity.

She wanted to run. She wanted to leave before she completely fell apart. Before the weight of his confessions and her own vulnerability crushed her. Before she regretted the decision to see him tonight, having refused him the night before. 

And yet, something in his eyes—something raw, unspoken, and undeniably real—kept her rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to turn away.

“When the baby was born, I couldn't accept him as my child.  I filed for the divorce and urged the court to compel her for taking a paternity test,” he continued, his voice faltering for a moment before stabilizing, “it came back negative.”

Silence fell again as she stared at him, eyes brightened with pain, her heart torn between relief, sorrow and confusion.

“My family buried the scandal,” Aemond admitted, his tone raw, “Back then, I was just starting in the industry, the tabloids never dug it up.” 

He took a step closer to her and she did not retreat this time. He reached for her hand, gently pulling her closer, his other arm wrapping around her delicate neck, bringing her into his space again.

 “When she insulted you the other day, I lost mycontrol. And I’d lose it again, on anyone, if they try to hurt you.”  

There was a flicker in his eyes - a fierce protectiveness that made her heart ache. Her own eyes brimmed with tears, unable to hold back the emotions rising inside her.

The raw honesty in his voice, the quiet effort he had been making to keep her close, to keep her in his life—all seemed to diminish the strength of the decision, she so staunchly made.

She knew now. She knew everything he went through, the weight of the burden he carried, the chaos he had endured. And he was still standing, still trying so desperately, to be someone she could trust.

Then how could she turn her back on this man, the one who had bared himself so fully before her? The man who had spent so long hiding from the world, concealing his truth from everyone, but her? 

And before she could stop herself, before she could deny the pull she felt towards him anymore, she wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. 

He exhaled a shaky breath, resting his chin on the crown of her head. As he kissed her hair over and over, the storm inside her finally began to calm down. 

“Be a part of my world, if I’m not fit to be a part of yours,” she rasped against his chest, consumed with emotion and his arms tightened around her.

“I want you, Aemond. I want you with every fiber of my being. But if I lose you, I’ll fall apart.” Her fingers clutched his shirt desperately, as though afraid he might vanish if she let go.

“You won’t lose me,” he murmured, as his hand cradled the back of her head with a tenderness that made the world around her fade into insignificance.

She placed her palm on his chest, feeling the deep, steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the subtle hum of his voice. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The only sound that existed was his heartbeat, synchronized with hers. The only scent was his, warm and familiar. The only sight was him.

Just him.

He was all she needed.

“I want you to stay in King’s Landing,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

Her eyes fluttered open, the weight of reality sinking in, yet she didn’t loosen her grip on him.

“I can get you any job, or a seat at any medical school in Westeros -just name it,” he murmured, his cheek brushing her hair.

That made her laugh, a few tears already pooled in her eyes rolled down her cheeks - an honest, bright sound that melted his heart. And in that moment, he realized he had never seen her laugh heartily before. She rarely laughed. Yet now, hearing it, he knew it was even more beautiful than her smile he thought he loved most.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll stick with the position I earned on my own merit, Aemond Targaryen,” she sniffed and replied with a grin, her fingers gently brushing against his jaw before finding his injured hand and holding it in hers.

His other hand moved to her face, his thumb grazing her lips with deliberate softness, sending a wave of unsteady anticipation through her. She felt her breath hitch, her pulse quicken under his touch.

“Turn around,” his voice low, smokey and commanding, his gaze fixed on her with a mix of desire and gravity.

Still smiling and yet eyebrows bunching in confusion at his sudden request, she complied.

A small gasp escaped her throat, her eyelids fluttering shut as his fingers lightly grazed the bare skin of her back, sweeping her hair aside with a tenderness that sent a shiver through her.

The cool touch of metal against her neck nudged her eyes open. She glanced down, and found a silver chain with a dragon-shaped pendant—the one he always wore. 

He leaned in, clasping the lock, his lips brushing softly against the skin of her back before reaching her ear. His voice, low and full of meaning, sent a thrill through her as he murmured, “Now I’ll stay with you all the time.”

That declaration—his promise—completely unraveled her. She barely turned before she found his lips with her own, her hand cupping his jaw and the world seemed to halt, seemed to dissolve into silence. She kissed him as though she never wanted to stop.

His hands traced the curve of her body, settling at her waist, and with a smooth motion, he whirled her around without breaking the seal of their lips. He kept pulling her closer, yet it still didn’t feel close enough - as though he needed her to collapse into him, to become a part of him.

She flung her arms around him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her chest pressing against his as their kiss deepened. She met his tongue, stroke for stroke, her body responding instinctively to the intensity of his hands as they explored every inch of her.

Maybe the kiss lasted a minute, or hours. They did not know.  They did not care. But when they finally broke apart, they were breathless, their hearts racing in unison.

She took his hand and led him to the couch placed nearby. And as soon as they sat, her lips sought his again with unrestrained passion. The kiss felt endless, as though time itself had unraveled and left only the two of them suspended in that moment.

Before they realized it, they were lying side by side on the couch. Her face rested against his chest, her body folded into the curve of his, his chain glittering across her neck. His fingers traced gentle, aimless patterns across her skin, each touch sending sparks down her spine.

“Aemond?” 

She felt the low hum of his response resonate in his chest. 

“What did you call me in High Valyrian earlier?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to look up at him.

Aemond chuckled, a rare sound that filled her heart with overwhelming warmth. He tipped his head back for a moment, his laughter soft and genuine. Then, bringing his lips to rest gently against her forehead, he whispered in a voice filled with unguarded affection,

“My love.”

-x-

(High Valyrian translation

Three days had passed since she last saw Aemond.

Three days blurred together in a haze of packing her belongings and desperately trying to erase the memories of the last six months.

No matter how hard she tried to distract herself—catching up with old friends from medical school, binge-watching shows until her eyes burned, practicing deep breathing exercises—the events from three days ago clung to her mind, refusing to let go. Refusing to let her move on. 

Calling home back in Volantis did not help. If anything, a tidal wave of emotions crashed on her the moment she heard her mom’s voice. Tears streamed freely down her face, her voice cracking with every word.

“What is it, darling? Inara, what’s wrong, love?” Her mother’s gentle voice coming from her phone,  only made the lump in her throat tighten even more. 

“I just miss you all. A lot. I miss home,” she managed to say, sobbing.She couldn’t bring herself to explain the reasons behind her anguish.

How could she, when she herself couldn’t cease the whirlpool of unresolved feelings swirling in her head. 

And on her final Friday night in King’s Landing, two nights before she was supposed to take the flight to Casterly Rock, she wept uncontrollably curled up on her couch as Aemond’s face flickered across the television screen.

The sight of him and the sound of his voice even through the distance of a recorded show, were enough to unravel her. She missed him, and the aching thought of never seeing him again stretched the emptiness inside her, making it harder to look forward to the new life that awaited her.

Every memory, every unresolved emotion, ricocheted through her mind like voices bouncing off bare walls, impossible to ignore, impossible to escape. 

What was she even hoping for by chasing something so unreal and unattainable? What was the point in trying to hold onto sand in her fist, only to watch it slip away?

I am such a fool. A stupid, naive fool.

-

Inara jolted awake to a clang of a ringing coming from her vibrating phone. Her mind, disoriented from broken sleep, tricked her into thinking it was her alarm. But the darkness outside reminded her it wasn’t time yet. 

That’s when she realized that the sound was a phone call.

She blinked hard, fumbling for the phone. Squinting at the screen, she saw a number she didn’t recognize.

Before she could even think of answering, the call disconnected, and her phone's home screen reappeared. The picture of her family stared back at her, and the digital clock flashed: 2:13 a.m.

A wrong number or a spam call.

But she couldn't fall back into sleep easily as her phone’s bright screen and the faint glow from her still-on TV filling the room, had already snapped her awake. 

She reached for the remote as memories of her earlier breakdown came rushing back. Sighing, she got up, walked to the bathroom, washed the dried tears off her face and brushed her teeth quickly.

After a few sips of water in the kitchen, she walked to her bed. Just when she covered herself with the duvet and settled into a comfortable position, her phone rang again. 

Another unknown number. 

​​Frowning, Inara hesitated for a second before picking it up, but she answered anyway.

"Hello?"

The caller did not respond.

"Who is it?" She tried again.

At her question, a faint hum crackled from the other end. She shut her eyes at that sound. A sound she would recognise among a thousand.

“Aemond?” She whispered his name, the only word that managed to escape her trembling lips. It slipped out before she could stop it, her voice, a raw mix of doubt and hope. 

And as she waited for an answer, the sound of her doorbell echoed into her living room. It came from both her phone and the door. 

Every nerve in her body froze. 

This can't be... he can't be here…

"Inara," Aemond’s deep voice sliced through, "Inara, it's me, open the door."

The urgency in his voice coiled around her, making her tremble until the phone slipped from her grasp. Fear and confusion warned her to not open the door, and yet a flicker of uninvited relief rushed through her veins. Throwing off her covers she rushed to the door, her pulse skyrocketing with every passing moment.

A sharp gasp escaped her throat as she indeed found Aemond standing at her door, clad in black from head to toe. The hood of his sweatshirt, pulled low, partially obscured his face, hiding his silver hair. His thick-framed glasses rested on his face; today they were tinted with a shade of red that concealed the violet depths of his eyes.

Before she could think, before she let herself have time to process what was happening in that moment, Inara yanked him inside, slamming the door shut. 

She pressed her back against the door, her heart racing, chest heaving. Her amber eyes widened, burning with disbelief, as they took in the sight of him—Aemond Targaryen, standing there in flesh, in her tiny apartment.

Aemond removed his hood,  his silver hair now revealing itself. He watched her, without a word, letting her adjust to the shock of his unannounced arrival.  But his features softened and he could not help but let out a low chuckle , as he saw her cover her mouth with both hands, the reality of it all slowly settling in.

“Inara?” 

Aemond’s voice anchored her to the actuality of the situation. It was not coming from the TV. He was not on her TV. He was standing there, in front of her. 

Heart threatening to crush against her ribs, she dashed to the window of her bedroom.

 What if someone saw a megastar walking into her apartment building?

 What if someone noticed him standing outside her door?

Her mind raced as she peered out of the window, but all she saw was the empty, dark street. She quickly slammed the window shut, pulled the curtains close. 

Rubbing her throat, still half-convinced this was some feverish dream, Inara returned to the living room and found Aemond, still standing exactly where she had left him.

This can't be happening.

Baffled, she scurried to her apartment’s balcony, only to find quiet streets. A usual hum of a weekend night barely stirred the air, no sleek cars idling at the curb, no paparazzi lurking in shadows. Just a calm, ordinary night.

She locked the balcony, turned back inside and found Aemond, still standing in the living room. 

"Do you think I’d be here without making sure no one saw me?" His voice, charged with quiet assurance, cut through her disbelief.

Her brows knit together, as she struggled to believe his words.Her eyes darted all over the place, reluctant to settle on him, sweat glistening at her forehead as her hands instinctively folded in front of her mouth. Panic had completely drowned out the longing that had consumed her. 

"But... the CCTV cameras...and the gates...?"

"Nothing will happen," he said plainly. The certainty in his voice eased the trembling in her chest a little and she felt her heartbeat slow down. 

But it rose again as Aemond took two steps towards her. 

“Nothing will happen, Inara,” he assured her again, gaze roving over her and making her skin prickle with a strange kind of anticipation. 

Her hand shot to her head, fingers smoothing through her hair, remnants of her snooze still clinging on to it. Loose strands framed her face, her low-neck tank top leaving her collarbones bare, and her shorts barely grazing the tops of her thighs. All of a sudden, she felt too exposed beneath his unflinching gaze.

She took a step back, noticing a folded night robe draped over a chair nearby. She shifted, preparing to retrieve it. But his hand reached out, catching hers with a firmness that stopped her in her tracks.

“Are you mad at me?”

The quiet longing, an unspoken desperation that his voice carried, tugged at her heart, his presence there feeling like a cruel test. And with each passing moment he was near her, she was getting on the verge of failing to suppress her longing for him. 

He came to see her. He came to her apartment, risking being discovered by paparazzi, just because he wanted to see her, to meet her before she left the city. He was there for her. 

He had always been there for her and the weight of this exact truth had been unbearable, leaving her inconsolable for the past three days.

But now, with him standing so close, his hand holding hers, she felt utterly paralyzed, unable to respond.

But what could she even say to him? Was she mad at him? Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. But why couldn’t she just tell him how she felt? Words refused to take form in her mind.

Did she even have the right to say anything to him?

And as her thoughts battled each other in her mind, a fleeting clarity peeked through. Before giving herself a chance to second guess,  she turned and placed her palm on his forehead, her cool touch meeting his warm, almost hot skin. Her palm, featherlight, slid to his cheek, her thumb brushing against his stubble.

“You have a fever,” she murmured, her hand still resting on his face, the other clasped by his.

His other hand, still bandaged, reached up and gently grasped her wrist, his fingers curling around her hand.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and heavy with yearning.

The sight of the frayed, stained bandage on his hand caught her attention, offering her another chance to dodge his question. The memory of how he got that injury, flashed through her mind. Without thinking, she gently took that hand in hers, turning it to examine the wound, 

“ And this - ” she gestured at the poor condition of the bandage,“ - why hasn’t this been redone?” Her tone, equal parts concern and irritation.

Aemond let out a faint sigh, “I don’t have a fever, Inara, Targaryens don’t get fevers,” he said with a low, amused tone, brushing the back of his hand lightly against her cheek. 

“I’m fine,” he reiterated.

Despite the tenderness of his touch melting her from inside, despite the sparks of warmth shooting beneath her skin, Inara gave him a sharp look.

“I know a fever when I see it,” she said firmly, tugging him towards the couch,“And anyone can get a fever. Sit here.” 

A small smile flickered on his lips at her persistence, and he masked it by puckering his lips - a gesture she had always found endearing.

She moved quietly to her kitchen, returning a moment later, carrying a box of first-aid and a glass of water. She settled down on the couch beside him, and he hummed, as if expressing that he wanted it. He wanted her close. 

Inara could feel his eyes on herself, watching her every movement - the way her hand shivered as she placed the glass on the table, as she opened the first aid box. The space between them pulsed with an unspoken, unresolved tension and an ache, almost tangible, so thick it pressed against her chest. 

Say something to him.

But she did not, and the quietness of the room got denser, the proximity becoming unbearable. Taking a breath deeper than usual, she switched herself into a healer mode, focussing on unwrapping his bandage. 

His wound was worse than she’d anticipated, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t taken better care of himself or where he’d been at this ungodly hour. His clothes carried a heady perfume - incense, musk and spice - overpowering that familiar scent of him she knew so well.

She held his injured hand in one, and began tending to the wound with her other, focusing entirely on cleaning and wrapping it with a fresh bandage. Dim light of the room framed her angelic features, now softened in concentration. His heart skipped a beat when every so often, she risked a glance at him. 

Tantalising sensations unfurled inside her core as it seemed to react to the raw desire in his eyes. A magnetic pull between the two, was making it hard for both of them to not lean into each other, to erase the distance between them that had grown over the past few days.

She finished wrapping the bandage but didn't let go of him, her eyes still on his bandaged hand, avoiding his gaze. Her hands lingered on his a little longer than necessary.

She couldn't tell when his bandaged hand came to rest on her thigh or when he inched closer to her, but she did realize when her breathing grew slightly heavier. To steady herself, she broke the silence.

“Why did you risk coming here, Aemond?” Panic creeping back in her voice, “What if someone sees you here? What if..what if even the slightest hint gets out?” The fear clawed at her once more, knotting in her chest, “How would I handle all of..”

Her voice trailed off as she couldn’t finish, when he leaned even closer, his lips brushing dangerously close to her forehead, and voice lowering to a deep, soothing rumble as he said, “I told you, nothing will happen.” 

Inara swallowed hard, her eyes shutting as she fought the urge to pull him even closer, but his  warmth against her skin - warmer than usual, reminded her of his fever. 

Without thinking, she handed him a white tablet and a glass of water. “Take this,” she murmured, trying to distract herself from the ache swallowing her up from inside, "It's for the fever."

Aemond didn’t refuse and took the pill from her with a nod. As he swallowed it, she picked up the first aid kit and made her way to the kitchen, forcing herself to keep a careful distance, hoping that the distance of a few feet would dilute the madness raging inside her. 

She reached up on her toes, and placed the first aid kit back in the cupboard. But before she could fully steady herself, she felt the heat of his presence behind her.

And before she could react, his hand was at her waist, pulling her gently against him. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan escaped her throat as his other hand pressed against the counter, trapping her between him and the cold surface.

“You can’t keep pushing me away,” his voice was a low growl against her hair, thick with something she couldn’t quite name but felt deep in her core. Something that charged her skin and raised the goosebumps.

The space between them no longer existed; her back pressed firmly against his toned abdominals. Her body screamed to surrender, to melt into the heat of his body that was now seeping into hers, but her mind clung to restraint, unwilling to drown in that intoxicating closeness. 

Gently, but firmly, she removed his hand from her waist, a silent gesture signaling him to step back.

"Talk to me, Inara," he said, stepping aside reluctantly, but his eyes clung to her dejected face. 

"About what?" she replied, her voice flatter than she had wanted it to be, betraying the storm simmering inside her.

"You shouldn’t have gotten into Lannister’s car," he said, his eyes narrowing with frustration.

Her lips tightened, but instead of explaining herself, she stayed silent for a few moments before countering, "Who told you where to find me?

It was his turn to remain quiet. 

 "I..." He hesitated, his firm voice faltering, "I got a call from Alys. She must have seen you."

At the mention of Alys, Inara scoffed, her composure cracking. Without sparing him another glance, she turned on her heel, walking out of the kitchen in an attempt to put distance between them again. 

The words she’d struggled to frame, words tangled in hurt and frustration, finally broke through and spilled out of her mouth before she could stop herself - 

 "I don't wish to involve myself in whatever it is between you and Alys Rivers." Her voice quivered despite her utmost effort to sound firm.

Her words struck him like a blow. Hard. His face fell, a flash of painful anger crossed his features.

She couldn’t retreat any further as he closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. His hand caught her arm, spinning her to face him. The other slid to the back of her neck, holding her in place as he drew her closer. His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unyielding, even as tears began to blur her vision.

"There is nothing between Alys and me," he spoke in a low, almost threatening tone. 

Inara struggled to pull away, but he held her, his arms too strong for her to free herself from their unrelenting grip.

 “She is a mistake I regret every single day of my life." 

The finality and sincerity of his words resonated in his voice and Inara went still as a statue, with shock and confusion carved on her features.

A heartbeat later, Aemond noticed her throat bob, felt her resistance falter and her body softening in his hold. 

“The day you met her at the Red Keep, she came to vex me..and I..” He paused as a tear slipped down her cheek, glistening in the dim light, followed by another. 

The tears broke something inside him.

Her arms, which had been locked in front of his chest in an effort to hold him at bay, slowly relaxed. Her taut restraint laxed as her trembling fingers reached out, clutching the fabric of his sweatshirt. He leaned even closer, holding her, the distance between their faces now minuscule. 

Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, mingling with his, as she asked, “Nothing?” 

His features yielded into an aching softness as hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing away the tear on her cheek with maddening gentleness. His other hand covered hers, clutching tightly to his sweatshirt, as he lowered his forehead to rest against hers.

“Nothing,” he promised and a broken sob escaped her lips.

They remained connected by their foreheads, suspended in that moment or hour, they could not know. The only sound in the room was Inara’s soft sniffling. Then, a whisper of words came out of her lips, wrapped in vulnerability and uncertainty, “I’m scared, Aemond.” 

Breaking the contact between their foreheads, he asked in a voice barely audible, “Scared of what?” 

“Of this,” her gaze dipped down to their bodies pressed flush against each other, “Of us.”

His hand, which had been cradling her face, slid to her back again, leaving a trail of heat that lingered on her skin. With slow, deliberate steps, he guided her backward until she met the cool surface of the nearby wall. He leaned in closer, his palms circled her waist, his body shielding her from everything but him. 

His lips found her temple, pressing a soft, lingering kiss before trailing down to her cheek. Her grip on his sweatshirt loosened, her palms now flat against his chest, her breathing heavy.

“I won't let anything happen to us,” he murmured in her ear, lips grazing the shell of his ear, his voice a low, husky promise that sent shivers cascading down her whole body. 

His lips didn’t stay there, as they grazed the curve of her jaw. He planted a kiss there, so tender that her restraint shattered to pieces.

 Gasping, she tipped her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to him, letting the moment sweep her away. 

Letting him sweep her away, move her as he pleased. 

And he did not wait.

One of his hands reached her collar bones, then travelled down and up tracing the curve of her body, until his thumb brushed against the swell of her breast, obliterating the last sliver of sense in her. 

A whimper slipped from her mouth and he hummed deep in his throat, as his mouth traveled lower, skimming the delicate slope of her neck, his kisses growing bolder, hungrier. Each kiss was dismantling the walls she had put up.

The  shiver in his body rippled deliciously into hers, an unspoken connection forming between them that deepened as she drew him closer, her arm curling around his neck, her fingers vanishing into his silken silver hair. His control wavered, unraveling with each passing second, his breaths as ragged and uneven as hers, palms exploring her alluring curves.

His lips found the dip of her neck, claiming it with a fervor that pulled out a deep moan out of her.

At that delicate, sultry sound, he stilled for a moment, his breath catching as he lifted his head to look at her. Any semblance of a sane thought dissolved the instant his gaze fell upon her face - her lips parted in anticipation of a pleasure he ached to give her.

She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze colliding with his and with the smoldering intensity in his expression. And in the next moment, his lips brushed hers—soft, tentative, as though testing the waters. His lips, so loving, so gentle against hers, his arms holding her passionately, possessively.

Her first kiss was moments away from becoming reality. A dream was about to come true. 

A kiss that should be the culmination of everything she had secretly longed for. The kiss she had dreamed of but never dared to imagine would happen like this. 

It should have felt perfect. 

Only, it didn't.

Instead, it felt like a cold slap to her face as the reality came crashing in. 

She was leaving. And he was a world away from her own. 

Unaware of the betraying shift inside her, Aemond slipped his hand around her neck, moving to fully claim her lips with his own. But she stirred, turned her head at the last moment, her cheek brushing against his mouth.

The abruptness startled him.

“I can’t. We shouldn’t,” she whispered, the words barely audible, as if speaking them aloud might fracture her resolve completely.

Her gaze flickered to his face. The confusion, mixed with the faintest sliver of hurt, written on it, sent a pang through her chest. But she stirred, attempting to slip away from him, to escape the disappointment burning in his eyes. 

“This can’t happen” she stated firmly, as if the past few minutes never happened, as if the fire between them never burned.

“What are you..why?” His voice came out laboured, and her heart cracked. 

“You should leave, Aemond.” Her words were hollow, as if they were spoken from a place within her, stripped of hope and feelings.

“Inara,” he growled, “Look at me.”

But she couldn’t, fearing that she wouldn’t be able to bear the hurt in his eyes. 

“All I want is a simple life, Aemond.” Her voice quivered with the weight of the truth she wished she could ignore.

He cupped her face in his palms, coaxing her to face him.

“I will put the whole world at your feet, Inara.” 

“I..”

I want you with every fiber of my being, but I’m scared that losing you would break me.

“I can’t be a part of that world, your world, Aemond.” Tears pricked at her eyes, guilt settling in her chest, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

Aemond’s grip on her loosened suddenly, his hands dropping to his sides as if her words had drained the fight out of him. For a moment, he stood there, staring at her, his chest rising and falling as if he were trying to steady himself.

 “You trusted me, you helped me..gave a roof over my head, gave me work.." Words tumbled out of her, but the raw gratitude in her tone only fueled his turmoil.

“Is that all I am to you? An employer? Your boss?” His heart throbbed in his head. His jaw clenched, anger seeping into the vulnerability in his voice.

“ANSWER ME!” he roared and in a flash, he struck his bandaged fist against the wall with a force that rattled her, and she yelped in shock, her body flinching away from the sudden outburst.

But words became shards of glass, stuck in her throat, as her mind kept telling her it would never work. 

Defeated and dejected, Aemond stepped back from her abruptly, turned on his heel and strode out of her apartment. 

For a moment, the silence was deafening, the air charged with a suffocating melancholy. The apartment’s walls seemed to close on her. 

She stood frozen, staring at the door he’d stormed through, her chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths.

Then it hit her, and sobs tore through her. 

Her legs trembled and gave out. She crumpled to the floor, her back pressed against the wall, her hands clutching her knees as she curled into herself. Tears streamed down her face unchecked, her cries filling the emptiness of the room. 

A note

I wrote this fluffy angst with a pinch of smut last year, using “You” and "Your Name" 😅

At that time, I was a novice and had no idea how the fanfic world worked. I thought it wasn't a fanfic if it wasn't a reader insert 🫣

Over time, however, I realized that while I love reading both reader inserts and OCs equally, writing in the second person may not be my cup of chai after all. And before someone comes at me, I want to clarify that I am not against reader inserts and the use of Y/N. Some of the best works I've read here have been written in the first or second person. And I fucking adore them.

Since I'm reposting this fic series with a few edits, I've converted the female protagonist into an original character and given her a name: Inara Maegyr, a medic from Essos who also happens to be a trained make-up and prosthetic artist.

Get well soon

Inara had been waking up every morning to the sound of her doorbell ever since she got injured. Every day, without fail, a bouquet of yellow and white roses awaited her on the doorstep, with a small gold-colored card nestled carefully among the petals.

Every morning, the sight of those roses made her silly heart flutter, filling her with an emotion she both loved and tried to suppress. 

The message on the card never changed—always the same few words, unsigned. 

But she didn’t need to see a name; each petal whispered his identity to her.

Those flowers didn’t smell like roses when she sniffed them, closing the door and carrying them to her coffee table. They carried his scent.

A scent so familiar, she could recognize it in a crowd of thousands. A scent she was missing terribly.

Does he miss me the way I miss him? 

Inara hadn’t been to the production for a week. Her recovery leave coincided with the outdoor shoot on the beautiful beaches of Driftmark. She missed seeing Aemond. She missed the quiet exchanges they shared in passing, the way his gaze would linger on her just a little longer than necessary. The way the air around both of them palpated with an unspoken tension. 

What was this feeling that had begun to swell in her heart at a mere thought of him? Why did she feel helpless against the beat of her heart that turned erratic at a mere thought of him? 

She did not realize when something that had once felt as distant as a star, began to seem within her reach. But as it did, she began to let herself wonder about the possibility of crossing the vast expanse between them. About the possibility of being with him, becoming his. Entirely.

-

Inara had been back at work for only a few days. Aemond was out at Driftmark, overseeing an outdoor shoot. Her duties were light for now; she had mostly been helping with the crew's medical needs - minor scrapes and bruises, nothing too demanding.

She sat in her office, a book on dermatology open before her, while she smiled at her phone, scrolling through pictures of Aemond online.

The intercom in her office buzzed, the sharp ring snapping her out of her rosy reveries. 

The voice on the phone sounded panicked, alerting her.

“Dr. Maegyr, there is an emergency, first floor, Chairman’s office.” 

Already rising from her seat, grabbing her medical aid kit, she asked, “Who is it and what happened?”

“It’s the chairman, Viserys Targaryen. He has collapsed in his office.” 

-

Inara ran to the first floor, hurrying towards the chairman’s office, her breaths coming in quick, sharp bursts. 

The door was ajar, revealing a scene of urgent activity inside. Several staff members hovered anxiously, their faces pale with concern. 

Viserys Targaryen, a frail, senile figure clad in a black suit, lay on the floor clutching his chest, his breath shallow and labored. Nearby, a woman in a deep green fitted dress, no older than forty-five, sat with tears pooling in her eyes, face etched with profound worry.

“He was not feeling well since last night,” the woman said, her voice trembling as she noticed Inara. “I told him not to exert himself... but he insisted on coming…” Her voice trailed off, choked by her distress.

Inara took only moments to deduce that Viserys was suffering a heart attack. 

“We need to call an ambulance,” she announced urgently to the gathered staff, swiftly opening her medical kit. She pulled out a strip of medicine and uncovered a tablet, requesting the elegant woman, who she guessed was his wife, “Please, help me loosen his tie and collar; we need to make him sit upright.”

With practiced care, Inara held Viserys’s head, checking his breathing as she placed the tablet in his mouth. “Sir, I need you to chew this medicine. Can you do that for me?”

Viserys groaned weakly, his response more a labored exhalation than coherent speech. Inara gently and firmly guided his jaw, helping him to chew and swallow the tablet. Once she was certain he had ingested the medication, she took another tablet and placed it in his mouth, then carefully fitted an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

Turning to the distressed woman, Inara spoke with calm authority, “Ma’am, we need to get him to the hospital immediately. He is having a heart attack. I’ve administered first aid, but he needs to be properly examined.”

-

Viserys spent two days in the hospital, and Inara ensured she visited him each day after work. She took care of his medical tests, reviewed his reports, and managed his medication. 

On the day of his discharge, Alicent, with a look of earnest gratitude, insisted that Inara accompany them home.

 “Please come with us,” she said, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I want you to come with us and make sure everything is alright.” She took her hands in hers, eyes pleading, “I trust you..and I know that you would ensure that the hospital is sending him with proper aftercare and nursing staff.”

-

The drive back to the Targaryen mansion was a quiet one. The car pulled to a stop at the front entrance, where a team of nurses and caregivers awaited them.  Alicent and Inara assisted Viserys out of the vehicle and into a wheelchair, which was then gently guided towards the grand entrance of the mansion.

They were led to a grand room with a massive bed, where the medical team had set up a comfortable area for Viserys. The room was suffused with an ancient grandeur, the high ceilings and dim chandeliers casting long, shifting shadows that whispered of histories untold. Inara felt small within it, like she had stepped into another world—one far removed her own.

“Father, how are you feeling?” The soft, poised voice came from a woman who glided across the room with an air of elegance. She was strikingly beautiful, around the age of Viserys’ wife, yet exuding a sharper presence.

Inara’s gaze swept across the room, taking in a group of the most ethereal people she had ever encountered. They all stood with somber expressions, their features strikingly similar, with the same silver hair and pale complexions that shimmered as pearls under low-light. 

She was hit by a wave of recognition. The absence of someone specific suddenly became palpable. The realization struck her with a jolt that she was surrounded by Aemond’s family. 

Viserys' daughter glanced toward Inara, her violet eyes narrowing slightly, as if assessing the stranger in their midst. 

Inara felt the heat rise to her cheeks, her throat suddenly dry as the weight of everyone’s gazes pressed upon her. 

Overwhelmed, she made an instant decision to leave. There was no point in lingering, not even for the sake of professionalism. The room’s suffocating elegance, the piercing gazes of Aemond’s family, the palpable reminder of his absence - it all was too much. She almost regretted agreeing to accompany them. 

"I shall take my leave, ma’am," she said, her voice quieter than intended as she stepped toward the door.

"No, please, wait." 

Inara felt a gentle hand on her arm, urging her outside the room, away from the heavy atmosphere.

“You did so much for us, I will make sure your time is compensated.” Alicent said softly as they stepped outside the room.

Inara shook her head, her tone polite but resolute, “It was only my duty."

"At least let me arrange a ride back home for you, Dr. Inara," Alicent offered and saw the hesitation flicker across Inara's face.

Inara paused, weighing her options, before nodding, "If it’s no trouble, thank you."

Alicent made a quick call to the security team, organizing a car. She then turned back to Inara, preparing to see her to the door herself.

“Please, ma’am, stay with your family. I’ll find my way out.” 

Alicent took Inara’s hands in her own, her grip warm and laden with unspoken gratitude. As her fingers brushed across the faint scar on Inara’s palm - the remnant of her injury - Alicent paused. Recognition dawned in her eyes, slow but unmistakable, as if a puzzle piece had quietly clicked into place.

For the first time in three days, Alicent truly saw her.

The realization softened her even more. Gently, she touched Inara’s cheek, her voice dropping to a whisper of affection. "Thank you, child," she said, her words filled with a maternal warmth that left Inara momentarily speechless. 

Inara only blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness.

-

Inara descended the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing faintly in the expansive gallery that stretched toward the main doors of the villa. Removing her doctor’s coat, she glanced around for a sign of house help, but the vast, silent hallways offered none. Everyone either retreated to their rooms or were in Viserys’s service at the moment. Her parched throat and exhausted muscles, both naggingly reminding her that she hadn’t had a drop of water in hours, ached for relief and rest.

To her left, a dim light spilled from what looked like a large, sleek kitchen. The journey home was long, and she needed something to quench her thirst. She hesitated only a moment before making her way toward the kitchen, hoping to find a staff member. But the space was eerily empty and dark.

Feeling a little out of place, Inara hesitated, uncertain whether to search for a glass or quietly leave. 

As she fumbled her way through the kitchen, her back collided with something - someone. 

Startled, her breath caught in her throat as she spun around, only to be pulled into a strong, warm chest with an arm snaking around her.

“Shh, it’s me.” Two calloused fingers from the source of the voice she had been longing to hear, came to gently rest on her lips. An undeniably familiar scent cocooned her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. 

Aemond watched her as the fear in her eyes gradually faded, leaving her gaze half-closed in relief and surrender. He removed her fingers from her lips. She exhaled, her pulse still racing. 

“Your father.. He had a heart attack while you were in..” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, the embarrassment creeping into her speech, her cheeks. She glanced down, trying to pull herself free from his grasp. 

But he didn’t let go. 

"I was just... I came for a glass of water," she said, trying to pull away again. Her attempt was half-hearted; his fingers sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of warmth that made it difficult for her to stay distant.

 Gradually, she relaxed into his touch, her tension ebbing away. Her arms, initially folded in reluctance, began to open. Before she could decide what to do with them, one hand came to rest on his bicep while the other found its place near his shoulder.

 A satisfying hum rumbled in Aemond’s chest, the sound of which told of the satisfying smile on his lips.

“You’re back,” she murmured, her voice soft and hesitant. She wasn’t ready to meet his gaze, afraid she might dissolve under the intensity of his proximity, the heat that seemed to pulse through them both.

Another hum in response, that came out with an exhale on her forehead and a deeper rumble. Her eyes threatened to shut. 

“I… I should go,” she whispered, but her words lacked conviction.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk curling at his lips. “Should you?” His velvety rasp sent an intoxicating shiver down her spine.

Inara’s lips parted, intending to mention her ride waiting outside, but the words faltered. A reluctance gripped her, as if voicing her departure might shatter the fragile, unexpected moment they were sharing.

To her dismay, she felt his arm loosen around her, a subtle withdrawal that hinted he was stepping away.

She turned, ready to leave, but his palm flattened against her stomach, halting her movement.

“Wait, come here,” Aemond’s voice brushed against the shell of her ear.

The touch unfurled another wave of pleasant warmth beneath her skin, one that filled the space between her body and her very being. It made her weightless, as if she might float away if not tethered to him. He gently tugged her back, refusing to let her leave, and she drifted, ready to follow wherever he led.

He guided her towards a counter, lifted her with effortless ease and settled her down on a stool. Her startled gasp was met only with a soft, dark chuckle, a sound that sent another jolt of hot desire coursing through her.

He moved to fill a glass with water and she watched him entranced, captivated by the smooth grace he exuded. 

“Here,” he said, extending the glass towards her. As she looked up, her eyes met his violet ones, shimmering behind the subtle brown tint of his glasses.

A smile - soft, relieved, and full of unspoken affection, broke into her face. The one he loved and that made his day. With  the sight of her, after weeks, so close and so real, he gathered every ounce of control he had, not to pull her into his arms and claim her lips with his own.

Inara set the empty glass back on the counter, an awkward silence now descending upon them, filling the space with an uncomfortable stillness.

“Your father is stable now,” 

Aemond took a step closer, holding her gaze, the desire to touch her again overwhelming him. He tenderly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek as his hand rested lightly on her slender neck. 

“Cole told me everything. Take a day off tomorrow, hmm?”

Inara only nodded, almost reluctant to voice her response and break the beautiful spell that they both seemed to be under. As if she feared disrupting the delicate, dream-like moment between them with her own voice. Her hand, almost instinctively, settled over his, as if to anchor herself in this fleeting, intimate exchange.

“Aemond... I...I was mi..” She began, lost in the haze of their shared connection., but could not finish as the room was suddenly flooded with a harsh light, snapping them out of their reverie. 

Aemond’s hand fell away as Inara stood to see who had disrupted their moment.

A woman stood in the doorway, her silver hair gleaming in the light, just as Aemond’s. Her face was an unreadable mask, her eyes betraying little of her thoughts as she took in the scene. She advanced towards them, her gaze briefly touching Aemond with an expression of disapproval before focusing on Inara.

To Inara’s astonishment, the woman, Helaena, extended her arms and enveloped her in an embrace. 

Aemond was taken aback by the  unexpected gesture of his elder sister. Touching someone was a rare behavior for her. 

“Everything will be alright,” Helaena murmured, her voice so low that Inara might not have heard it if not for the closeness of the embrace.

Helaena released her, gently tugging at Inara's hand, and reverting to her normal voice , “Come, I’ll see you out.”

Confused and unsure, Inara looked back at Aemond. With a final, lingering glance, she followed Helaena toward the exit, leaving the warmth of his presence behind.

--

They had settled into a routine that had become the most cherished part of Aemond’s day. Every evening, no matter how busy or chaotic his day had been, Aemond made it a point to meet Y/N. He would arrive at her apartment, sometimes with a small gift in hand—a rare book, her favorite flowers, or simply something that reminded him of her. It was his way of showing her that she was always on his mind, no matter where he was or what he was doing.

Their time together was simple, yet it filled Aemond with a profound sense of contentment. They would spend an hour or two in the music room, where Y/N would sit at her piano, fingers dancing over the keys with an effortless grace that never ceased to mesmerize him. The room was bathed in soft light, the notes of the piano filling the space with a melody that felt like it was just for them.

Aemond would sit nearby, sometimes watching her with a quiet intensity, other times closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him. It was in these moments that he felt truly at peace, the tension that often gripped him easing away as he listened to her play. They didn’t need to fill the silence with words; the music spoke for them, a language only they seemed to understand.

Occasionally, they would talk, their conversations flowing easily and naturally. They shared stories, dreams, and thoughts, their words weaving together like the notes of a song. Y/N had a way of drawing out the softer side of Aemond, encouraging him to open up in ways he had never done before. He found himself telling her things he had kept locked away, sharing parts of himself that he had thought were lost.

For Aemond, these hours with Y/N were the highlight of his day. They had become his sanctuary, a time when he could let down his guard and simply be himself. It was a rare gift, and one he never took for granted.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Aemond realized that Y/N had not only brought peace into his life—she had brought purpose. She had shown him that there was more to life than power and control, that there was a beauty in the quiet moments, in the simple act of being with someone who truly understood him.

Each evening, as the last notes of her piano faded into the night, Aemond would take Y/N’s hand and press a gentle kiss to her fingers. It was his way of thanking her for bringing this light into his life, for showing him that he was capable of more than he had ever believed.

And in those moments, with her by his side, Aemond knew that he had found something priceless, something that made all the battles and struggles worth it. He had found love, and with it, a happiness that he had never dared to dream was possible.

Aemond paced back and forth in Y/N’s apartment, his frustration barely contained. He had broached the subject of bodyguards again, knowing exactly how the conversation would go but unable to help himself. The very thought of her walking around without protection made his blood run cold.

Y/N sat at the piano, her fingers idly brushing the keys as she watched him with a bemused expression. “Aemond, we’ve talked about this,” she said gently, her tone patient but firm. “You’re paranoid.”

Aemond stopped in his tracks, his one good eye narrowing as he looked at her. “Paranoid? Y/N, you don’t understand the dangers. My world—our world now—isn’t safe. There are people out there who would hurt you just to get to me.”

She tilted her head, offering him a soft smile. “But I’m not a part of your world, Aemond. I’m just a pianist. No one is going to target me because of who I’m dating. Your enemies don’t care about a harmless musician.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. He knew she was trying to lighten the situation, but it only served to deepen his concern. He walked over to her, his hand reaching out to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “You’re not just a pianist, Y/N. You’re everything to me. If anything happened to you…”

She placed her hand over his, squeezing gently. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I know you worry, but I’m careful. I don’t draw attention to myself, and I don’t go to dangerous places. I don’t need bodyguards.”

“But you do,” Aemond insisted, his voice low and urgent. “You don’t understand the lengths people will go to. You’re my greatest weakness, Y/N. They’ll find out about you, and they’ll use you against me.”

Y/N sighed, pulling his hand away from her face but holding onto it. “Aemond, I don’t want to live in fear. I don’t want to look over my shoulder every time I step outside. I trust you to protect me, but I can’t have my life dictated by your enemies. I refuse to be paranoid.”

Aemond’s heart ached at her words, torn between his desire to keep her safe and his respect for her independence. He knew she was right—she wasn’t a part of his world, and it wasn’t fair to drag her into its darkness. But he couldn’t shake the fear gnawing at him, the terrifying thought of her being vulnerable, unprotected.

He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I understand, Y/N. I don’t want you to live in fear either. But promise me you’ll be careful. Please.”

“I promise,” she said, her voice softening. “I’m not reckless, Aemond. I know how much you care about me, and I won’t do anything to make you worry more than you already do.”

Aemond nodded, though his worry didn’t ease. He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close as if that alone could protect her from the dangers he knew lurked in the shadows. His heart beat heavily in his chest, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. She felt so small in his arms, so precious, and the thought of anything happening to her made his stomach churn with anxiety.

As much as he wanted to respect her wishes, Aemond couldn’t bring himself to leave her unguarded. He needed to know she was safe, even if she didn’t realize it. So, unbeknownst to Y/N, Aemond arranged for her to be watched from a distance. The bodyguards were discreet, blending into the background, never drawing attention to themselves. They kept a vigilant eye on her, ensuring that she was protected without her ever knowing.

Aemond justified it to himself as a necessary precaution, a way to compromise between her independence and his need to keep her safe. He knew she wouldn’t like it if she found out, but he couldn’t take any chances. His love for her was too deep, too consuming, to allow him to act otherwise.

And so, each day, he would meet her, spend time in her comforting presence, and silently thank the unseen guardians who ensured she remained safe. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but for Aemond, it was the only way he could find any peace of mind in a world where the stakes were always too high.

Y/N was far more perceptive than Aemond gave her credit for. Though she often appeared lost in her music or absorbed in the simple pleasures of life, her keen eyes and sharp mind were always at work, noticing the subtle details that others might overlook. She was the kind of person who could read a room with a single glance, who could sense when something was out of place even if she couldn’t immediately pinpoint what it was.

It didn’t take long for her to notice the two figures who seemed to be a constant presence in her life. They were always just on the edge of her vision—a man and a woman, both with similar faces, both blending into the background with practiced ease. They appeared in different places but with an unmistakable sameness that eventually caught her attention. At first, it was just a fleeting recognition, a sense of familiarity that she couldn’t quite place. But as the days passed, she began to see the pattern.

They were there when she went to the market, standing casually by a flower stall. They appeared when she took her morning walk, one of them lingering near a bench, pretending to read a newspaper. Even at the concert hall where she practiced, they would be present, always in different disguises but always unmistakably the same. They never approached her, never spoke to her, but their presence was constant, a quiet shadow following her every move.

Y/N’s curiosity was piqued, and it didn’t take much to connect the dots. She knew Aemond well enough to understand that he wouldn’t simply let go of his need to protect her, no matter how much he respected her wishes. She could almost picture him arranging for these bodyguards, ensuring they were just distant enough not to intrude on her life but close enough to intervene if anything went wrong.

One afternoon, as she sat by her piano, absently playing a few notes, she caught sight of the familiar figures outside her window. A small smile tugged at her lips, and she shook her head, laughing softly to herself. “Oh, Aemond,” she whispered, amused by his predictability. He had tried to be so subtle, so careful, but Y/N’s perceptiveness had seen through the veil.

The realization didn’t anger her. In fact, it filled her with a warm affection for him. She understood his fears, his need to protect her, even if she didn’t agree with it. But there was also a part of her that found the whole situation somewhat amusing. He had underestimated her, thinking she wouldn’t notice the extra eyes on her. And for a while, she let him believe it, going about her days as if she were completely unaware of the silent guardians he had placed around her.

But Y/N had always had a playful streak, and after a few weeks of letting the game play out, she decided it was time to have a little fun.

One day, while walking through the park, she noticed the familiar figures trailing a safe distance behind her. The man was pretending to check his watch, while the woman seemed engrossed in her phone. Y/N’s mind raced, concocting a plan to outsmart them just for the thrill of it. She picked up her pace slightly, leading them deeper into the park where the paths twisted and turned among the trees.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to confirm they were still following, she suddenly darted down a side path, one that was narrow and partially obscured by overgrown bushes. She moved swiftly, her heart racing with excitement, but she kept her footsteps light, barely making a sound as she slipped through the trees. When she reached a small clearing, she paused, ducking behind a thick cluster of shrubs.

She watched as her bodyguards hurried past the path she had taken, their eyes scanning the area, clearly searching for her. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a laugh, her heart thudding in her chest from both the exhilaration and the absurdity of the situation. After they had moved on, she quietly doubled back, retracing her steps until she reached the main path again. Once there, she resumed her walk as if nothing had happened, her laughter bubbling up as she imagined the confusion that must have set in.

Later that evening, when Aemond arrived to see her, Y/N couldn’t resist teasing him. She looked at him with a playful glint in her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “So, tell me, Aemond,” she began casually, “do your bodyguards often lose their charges, or was today a first?”

Aemond froze, his expression a mix of surprise and chagrin. “You knew?” he asked, his voice tinged with both admiration and a touch of exasperation.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and musical. “Of course, I knew. I’m more observant than you think, my love. But don’t worry, I didn’t go far. I just wanted to have a bit of fun.”

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his lips curled into a reluctant smile. “You scared them half to death, you know.”

“Serves them right for underestimating me,” she replied with a grin. “And you, too.”

Aemond couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling her into his arms. “I suppose I’ll have to give them a raise for putting up with you.”

Y/N smiled, leaning into his embrace. “Or maybe you could just trust me a little more.”

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice softening. “I do trust you, Y/N. But I also love you too much to take any risks. I need you safe.”

“I know,” she murmured, her playful tone giving way to sincerity. “But I promise you, Aemond, I’m not as defenseless as you think. And I’ll always come back to you.”

Aemond held her a little tighter, the weight of his fears easing slightly in her presence. He knew she was right—she was strong, capable, and far more resilient than anyone else he had ever known. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel that constant need to protect her, to shield her from the dangers of his world.

As they stood together, the playful tension between them dissolved into something deeper, a shared understanding that, no matter what, they would always find their way back to each other.

From that day onwards, Y/N accepted the presence of the bodyguards with a quiet resignation, no longer trying to evade or outsmart them. She understood that their presence wasn’t just about protecting her—it was about easing Aemond’s fears, giving him some peace of mind in a world where so much was beyond his control. The bodyguards, in turn, had come to appreciate her playful nature, finding themselves amused rather than annoyed by her antics. As long as they stayed in the background, not intruding on her life, she didn’t mind their silent watchfulness.

Whenever Aemond would bring up the topic, perhaps with a hint of apology in his voice, she would simply smile and reassure him. “Only for you, Aemond,” she would say softly, her eyes holding his with a warmth that spoke of her understanding and love.

She knew how much it meant to him, how deeply he cared for her, and how his need to protect her stemmed from a place of genuine love and concern. It wasn’t just about power or control—it was about the way he cherished her, the way he saw her as his everything.

Aemond, for his part, felt a mixture of relief and gratitude. He knew how much she valued her independence, how hard it must have been for her to accept this small compromise. But hearing her say those words, “Only for you,” made him realize just how much she cared for him, how much she was willing to bend for the sake of their relationship.

And so, their routine continued—Aemond still meeting her every day, spending those cherished hours together where Y/N would play her piano while they talked. But now, there was a new layer of understanding between them, a mutual respect for each other’s boundaries and a deeper connection forged by the little sacrifices they made for one another.

It was another one of those tranquil mornings, the kind Y/N had come to cherish. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light across the sprawling college campus. The early hours were her favorite—quiet and serene, with the world still asleep and the air cool with the remnants of night. The only sounds were the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird waking with the dawn.

Today, Y/N was on her way to practice her piano in the grand hall, a place she had come to know intimately over the years. The building itself was a masterpiece of architecture, with towering columns and ornate carvings that lent it an air of old-world elegance. Usually, she would take the main route, winding through the corridors that she could navigate with her eyes closed. But recently, construction work had closed off several paths, forcing students to take longer, more circuitous routes to reach their destinations.

This morning, feeling a bit lazy and not in the mood for the extra walk, Y/N decided to take a shortcut. She knew the construction site well enough—after all, she had passed by it countless times in recent weeks. There was a gap between some of the equipment, just wide enough for her to slip through without much trouble. It seemed like a harmless idea, just a small detour that would save her a few minutes.

As she stepped off the main path and made her way toward the construction area, the atmosphere around her shifted. The bustling energy of the campus faded away, replaced by an eerie stillness. The sounds of the waking world were muffled here, and the early morning light seemed to struggle to reach the shadowy corners between the scaffolding and stacks of building materials. The once-familiar campus suddenly felt foreign and empty, as though she had stepped into a different realm entirely.

Y/N felt a slight unease prickling at the back of her neck, but she shook it off, telling herself that she was being silly. It was just the stillness of the early hour, she reasoned. After all, who would be around at this time of day? She kept walking, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold concrete floor. The narrow path wound between piles of bricks, planks of wood, and other construction equipment, forming a labyrinth that seemed to grow darker and more oppressive with each step.

As she moved deeper into the construction zone, the silence became almost deafening. The usual background noise of distant voices, footsteps, and the hum of traffic was conspicuously absent, replaced by an unsettling quiet that made Y/N feel more alone than ever. The air was heavy, thick with the smell of dust and damp earth, and every now and then, a cool draft would snake through the gaps in the walls, causing her to shiver.

Y/N quickened her pace, eager to reach the grand hall and the safety of its familiar walls. But just as she rounded a corner, something unexpected happened. Her world seemed to tilt on its axis, and before she could process what was happening, a rough hand grabbed her from behind. Panic surged through her, and she opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound could escape, a cloth was roughly pressed over her face.

The fabric was soaked with something sharp and pungent, a chemical odor that burned her nostrils and sent her senses spiraling. Y/N struggled, her limbs flailing as she tried to fight off her attacker, but her strength was quickly ebbing away. Her vision blurred, the edges of her world darkening as the substance took hold, pulling her down into unconsciousness.

The last thing she heard before everything went black was the rapid pounding of her own heart, echoing in her ears like a distant drumbeat as she slipped into the darkness.

The atmosphere in Aemond's study was charged with an ominous tension, thick with the kind of fear that paralyzed even the most seasoned of men. The room, usually pristine and orderly, was now a scene of chaos. Papers were strewn across the floor, shards of glass from shattered picture frames glinted under the dim light, and priceless artifacts lay in ruins, their splintered remains littering the room. The large oak table, once a symbol of his authority, now lay on its side, the contents that had once adorned it scattered and broken.

Aemond stood in the center of this destruction, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. His single eye, cold and sharp as a blade, flicked dangerously between the two bodyguards who cowered before him. These were men who had seen their share of violence, who had stood firm in the face of danger many times before. But now, they trembled like leaves in a storm, their faces pale with dread. They had failed in their duty, and they knew all too well what that could mean when it came to Aemond Targaryen.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Aemond’s voice was a roar that reverberated through the walls, the sheer force of it making the two men flinch. His rage was a living thing, tangible and suffocating, filling the room like a dark cloud. The fury in his voice was matched only by the fire burning in his eye, a seething, unstoppable blaze that threatened to consume everything in its path.

Without warning, Aemond turned and grabbed the edge of the table, flipping it with a violent motion. The wood cracked against the floor, the sound like a gunshot in the confined space. Objects clattered and broke further as they tumbled off the table's surface, adding to the mounting debris.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GUARD HER!” he yelled, his voice hoarse with the force of his anger. He spun around, fists clenched, his knuckles white. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the silence that followed, punctuated only by the occasional crunch of broken glass beneath his boots.

Unable to contain his fury, he lunged at one of the bodyguards, grabbing him by the collar with a grip that was ironclad. He yanked the man close, their faces inches apart, and for a moment, the bodyguard thought his life might end right then and there. Aemond’s eye, dark with an almost predatory intensity, bore into the man’s, searching for any hint of deception or incompetence.

“What happened?” Aemond whispered, his voice low and dangerous, like the calm before a storm. The tone was more terrifying than his earlier shouting, a quiet promise of the violence that would come if he did not get the answers he wanted.

The bodyguard, swallowing hard, tried to steady his trembling hands. “We… we followed her, sir, just like you instructed,” he stammered, his voice quivering. “She was heading to the grand hall for her practice, as usual. But then… she decided to take a shortcut through the construction site.”

Aemond’s grip tightened, his knuckles turning even whiter. The bodyguard winced but continued, his words spilling out in a rush as he tried to explain. “We kept our distance, like always, but then… she went out of sight for just a moment, behind some equipment. We thought it was just a quick detour, nothing unusual. But when we rounded the corner… she was gone. We searched everywhere, every possible exit, every shadow… but she wasn’t there. It was like she vanished into thin air.”

The explanation did little to quell the storm brewing inside Aemond. If anything, it only fueled his anger. He released the man with a shove, sending him stumbling backward, and turned his fury on the room once more. His mind raced, a thousand thoughts clashing at once. She was gone. She was taken. And they had failed her—he had failed her.

With a guttural growl, he grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it across the room with all his might. The heavy wood splintered against the large window, shattering the glass into a cascade of glittering fragments that rained down onto the floor. The cool breeze from outside rushed in, but it did nothing to cool the fire within him.

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the dread gnawing at his insides. Fear, a sensation he rarely allowed himself to feel, now gripped him tightly. The very idea that Y/N, his Y/N, could be in danger—that someone could have taken her—was unbearable. It made his blood run cold even as his temper burned hot.

He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not her. She was his light, the one person who had brought something vital into his life—something he hadn’t even realized he needed until she was there. She had softened his edges, brought warmth to the cold void within him. And now, that warmth was at risk of being snuffed out, and it was all he could do to keep from losing control completely.

His voice, now barely more than a growl, rasped out as he turned back to the guards. “Find her. I don’t care what it takes—find her. And if anything has happened to her…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the threat was clear, hanging in the air like a sword over their heads.

The bodyguards nodded, their faces ashen, and hurried out of the room, leaving Aemond standing amidst the wreckage. As the door closed behind them, Aemond finally let out a breath, though it did little to ease the tightness in his chest. His hand trembled slightly as he ran it through his hair, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But the fear remained, gnawing at him, whispering dark possibilities in his mind. His world had just been thrown into chaos, and until he had Y/N back, safe in his arms, he knew he would find no peace.

Aemond’s resolve was like steel, unbreakable and unwavering. The moment Y/N was taken, everything else in his life ceased to matter. His usual meticulous attention to detail, the business dealings, the power plays—none of it held any significance anymore. There was only one mission now, one goal that consumed every waking thought: finding Y/N.

He stood at the head of a room full of his most trusted men, his expression a mask of cold determination. The fear and fury that had gripped him in the initial moments had now solidified into a dangerous, single-minded focus. The room buzzed with tension, every man there feeling the weight of Aemond’s wrath hanging over them. They knew failure was not an option.

“No work,” Aemond’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “No other business, no other operations. Everything is on hold until she is found.”

He paused, letting his words sink in, his eye moving over each man in the room. They shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, understanding the gravity of the situation. They had seen Aemond angry before, but this was different. This was personal.

“I will turn this city upside down for her,” he continued, his voice low and deadly serious. “I don’t care what it takes—find her. Use every resource, every contact, every means necessary. She is out there somewhere, and I want her back.”

The men nodded, some muttering their affirmations as they began to move, preparing to set the plan in motion. They knew the stakes. Aemond was not a man to make idle threats, and they had all seen what he was capable of when crossed. The entire city would soon feel the impact of his fury.

As his men dispersed, Aemond remained where he was, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The fear still gnawed at him, that sickening sensation in his gut that wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t shake the image of her, scared and alone, possibly hurt, and it made him want to destroy everything in his path until she was safe in his arms again.

But he pushed the fear aside, channeling it into action. He wouldn’t let himself be paralyzed by it. Not now. There was too much at stake.

He imagined the city—his city—falling under the weight of his search. Every alley, every corner, every darkened room would be scrutinized. No stone would be left unturned, no lead unpursued. The people of the city would soon learn just how far he was willing to go for her. And when he found the ones responsible—when he finally had them in his grasp—there would be no mercy.

Aemond turned toward the window, looking out over the city skyline. The lights flickered in the distance, unaware of the storm that was about to be unleashed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening with resolve.

“You’ll be back with me soon, my love,” he whispered to the night. “And I’ll make them pay for every moment you were gone.”

The city was about to become a warzone, and Aemond Targaryen was ready to lead the charge.

Y/N slowly came to, her head pounding as if a heavy weight had settled behind her eyes. She tried to move, but something was wrong. Her wrists ached, the skin raw where it had been rubbed by coarse rope. As her vision began to clear, she realized with a jolt that she was tied to a chair, her arms bound tightly behind her back, her ankles secured to the legs of the chair. Panic surged through her chest, sharp and overwhelming.

She blinked rapidly, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing she remembered was walking through the quiet, early-morning corridors of the music building, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty halls. She had been headed to practice, taking a shortcut through the construction zone—a decision she now regretted deeply. The memory was hazy, fragmented. She had felt a sense of unease, the air heavy with silence, before something cold and damp was pressed over her mouth and nose. The sickly sweet smell of chemicals had overwhelmed her senses, and then—darkness.

Now, the dim light of the warehouse cast eerie shadows on the concrete walls. It was a large, empty space, the kind that seemed to swallow sound and hope alike. The floor was dirty, littered with debris, and the smell of dampness and rust filled her nostrils. There were no windows, only a few flickering overhead lights that offered little comfort.

Where am I? How did I get here?

Her heart raced as her mind scrambled to fill in the blanks. The bodyguards—where were they? What had happened to them? She had seen them just moments before she decided to take that shortcut. They had been trailing behind her, watching her every move. She had even been aware of their presence earlier, noting their familiar faces in the crowd, always close, always vigilant. But now… now there was no sign of them. Had they been overpowered? Were they hurt—or worse?

Fear gnawed at her insides. She tugged at the ropes binding her wrists, wincing as the rough fibers bit into her skin. It was no use; the knots were too tight, expertly done. Whoever had brought her here knew what they were doing. She forced herself to breathe, to think, to stay calm.

Aemond’s face flashed in her mind, and with it, a surge of both fear and determination. He would be searching for her by now. He would turn the city upside down if he had to. She knew how fiercely protective he was, how deeply he cared for her, even when she teased him about being paranoid. But this—this was beyond anything she had ever imagined. This was real, and she was utterly helpless.

She looked around the warehouse again, her eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for any sign of life, any clue that could tell her where she was or who had taken her. But there was nothing—only the oppressive silence and the slow drip of water from somewhere in the distance.

Every noise seemed magnified in the emptiness. The creak of the chair as she shifted, the distant hum of machinery outside, the faint rustling of rats in the shadows. She tried to focus, to keep her mind sharp, but the lingering effects of whatever they had used to knock her out made everything feel hazy, like she was trapped in a half-dream.

Why? Why would anyone do this? I’m just a pianist, just… me.

But she wasn’t just a pianist, she reminded herself. She was Aemond Targaryen’s soulmate, and that made her a target. She had always known, deep down, that his world was dangerous, filled with threats she couldn’t even begin to understand. But she had never imagined it would touch her so directly, so violently.

She swallowed hard, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over. This wasn’t the time for fear. She needed to stay strong, to think of a way out of this. Aemond would come for her, she knew that with every fiber of her being. But until then, she needed to survive, to keep her wits about her.

She flexed her fingers, testing the bonds around her wrists again, wincing as the rope cut into her skin. There had to be a way out. There was always a way out. She just had to find it.

As she sat there, alone in the cold, dark warehouse, Y/N made a silent vow to herself. She would fight. She would survive. And when Aemond found her, they would make whoever did this pay for every second of fear, every ounce of pain.

But for now, she had to hold on.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the reality of her situation began to weigh heavily on Y/N. The cold air of the warehouse seeped into her bones, making her shiver uncontrollably. The rough ropes binding her wrists and ankles chafed her skin, but it was the crushing sense of isolation that truly threatened to undo her.

Her thoughts drifted to Aemond. She could picture him so clearly in her mind—his intense gaze, the way his lips curled into a rare smile just for her, the warmth of his embrace when they were alone. He had become her safe haven, the one person who made her feel truly understood and protected. Now, in this dark, desolate place, she longed for him more than she ever had before.

A wave of emotion surged through her, a desperate yearning that made her chest tighten. She missed him so much it hurt, like a physical ache deep within her soul. She could almost feel his presence beside her, could almost hear the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held her close. How she wished she could be with him now, to feel his strong arms around her, to hear his soothing voice telling her that everything would be alright.

"Aemond..." she whispered into the stillness, her voice trembling with fear and longing. "Please... save me."

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she squeezed them shut, trying to block out the terror that threatened to consume her. She knew he would come for her—he had to. But until then, all she could do was pray. Pray that he was safe, that he was already on his way to find her, that he would burst through those doors at any moment and take her away from this nightmare.

She thought of all the moments they had shared, the way he would look at her with such intensity, as if she were the most precious thing in his world. She remembered the way he would brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the tenderness in his touch despite the fierce reputation that preceded him. He was a man of contradictions—ruthless in his world, but gentle with her. And now, more than ever, she needed that gentleness. She needed him.

"Please, Aemond," she whispered again, her voice cracking as a tear slid down her cheek. "I need you... I need you to find me."

Her mind clung to the thought of him, imagining the lengths he would go to in order to bring her back. She knew how determined he could be, how nothing would stand in his way once he set his mind to something. He was probably already tearing the city apart, searching for her with a ferocity that only he possessed. The thought brought her a small measure of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the fear that lurked at the edges of her consciousness.

The silence of the warehouse pressed in on her, amplifying the loneliness that wrapped around her like a shroud. She felt so small, so vulnerable in this vast, empty space. All she wanted was to be with him, to hear his voice, to feel his presence. He was her anchor, her rock, and without him, she felt adrift, lost in a sea of darkness.

"Please, Aemond..." she prayed silently, the words repeating in her mind like a mantra. "Please find me... Please come for me..."

She could almost hear him answering her, could almost imagine his voice in her ear, telling her to hold on just a little longer. And so she did. She held onto the hope that he would find her, that this nightmare would end, and that she would be safe in his arms once more.

Aemond’s fury was a storm, unrelenting and all-consuming. He paced the length of his office, his movements erratic, as if the very air around him were charged with his rage. The usually immaculate room was a mess, papers scattered across the floor, furniture overturned. The sheer force of his anger was palpable, radiating outward like waves crashing against the shore. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white, and his eye burned with a fierce, almost otherworldly intensity.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—each one more destructive than the last. He was angry, yes, but more than that, he was consumed by a profound sense of helplessness. The thought of Y/N in danger, alone, and frightened was a knife twisting in his gut. He could scarcely think straight, the only clarity he had was the unshakable determination to find her, to make those responsible for her abduction pay dearly.

Aegon and Helaena stood on the periphery, their concern etched deeply into their faces. They watched Aemond with a mix of apprehension and sympathy. Aegon’s usual nonchalance was replaced by a rare seriousness; he understood the gravity of the situation and the depth of Aemond’s feelings for Y/N. The normally irreverent younger brother now stood with arms crossed, his face set in a grim line. He could see the toll the situation was taking on Aemond, both physically and emotionally.

Helaena, always more perceptive and intuitive, was particularly distressed. She knew how much Y/N meant to Aemond, how she had brought a light into his life that was rare and precious. Helaena’s normally calm demeanor was replaced by worry. She moved about the room, her hands wringing together as she tried to offer whatever comfort she could. Her eyes frequently darted toward Aemond, her heart aching for both her brother and the woman he loved.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Aemond’s rage was almost tangible, a force that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. His anger was not just at those who had taken Y/N, but at himself, for not being able to protect her, for allowing this to happen despite all his power and resources. It was a raw, almost primal form of fury, and it made the room feel as if it were vibrating with the intensity of his emotions.

Despite his overwhelming anger, there was an undercurrent of despair in Aemond’s demeanor. He would occasionally stop pacing, his face crumpling with frustration and worry as he stared into the distance, as if hoping that Y/N would appear out of thin air. His hands would move to his face, as if to rub away the anger and fear that was etched into his features.

Aegon and Helaena knew better than to approach Aemond directly at such moments, understanding that any attempt to intervene would likely be met with more fury. Instead, they worked behind the scenes, mobilizing their own resources, reaching out to contacts, and providing whatever assistance they could. They knew that finding Y/N was of utmost importance and that they needed to support Aemond in his mission, even if it meant navigating through his storm of anger.

The search was relentless. Aemond’s demands were sharp and unyielding. Every resource at his disposal was mobilized, every lead followed up with an intensity that left no room for error. He wasn’t just looking for Y/N; he was making it clear to everyone involved that failure was not an option. He needed her back, and he would stop at nothing to ensure her safety.

In the midst of all this, Aegon and Helaena did their best to keep him grounded, offering whatever reassurance they could, while silently sharing their own fears for Y/N’s safety. They knew how much Y/N meant to Aemond, and they could see the strain it was putting on him. It was a dark time, but the bond between them was strong. They would stand by Aemond through this, hoping that their combined efforts would bring Y/N home safe and restore a semblance of peace to their troubled world.

As Y/N sat tied to the chair, the oppressive silence of the warehouse was intermittently disturbed by distant sounds—rustling, dripping water, and the occasional creak of the building settling. The wait was agonizing, each minute stretching endlessly, filled with a gnawing sense of dread and uncertainty.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard footsteps approaching. The sound was slow, deliberate, echoing through the cavernous space. She strained to see through the dim light, her breath catching in her throat as the footsteps drew nearer. The warehouse’s shadows seemed to stretch and twist, heightening the sense of foreboding.

The door creaked open, and a figure emerged from the darkness. Y/N’s breath hitched as she recognized him immediately. The man who stepped into view was silver-haired, his face strikingly familiar yet unsettlingly different. It was Daemon Targaryen.

Y/N's mind raced, struggling to reconcile the sight before her. Daemon, with his long silver hair and commanding presence, was a figure she had heard about in whispers and seen in occasional news stories. His resemblance to Aemond was unmistakable, yet his aura was entirely different—more chaotic, more volatile. He was a known rival, a name associated with danger and unpredictability.

Daemon’s gaze locked onto her, and a smirk played at the corners of his lips. He moved with a languid grace, as if every step was calculated to unsettle her. The smirk grew as he took in the sight of her, tied up and vulnerable.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Daemon's voice was smooth, almost mocking, carrying an edge of amusement. He approached Y/N with an air of detached interest, his eyes gleaming with an inscrutable mix of curiosity and disdain.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to maintain her composure. Her mind was a flurry of questions and fears. Why was Daemon here? What did he want with her? How did he even know she was here?

“Daemon,” she managed to say, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound firm. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Daemon's smirk widened, his gaze lingering on her bound form with an unsettling mix of pity and intrigue. “Oh, it’s not about what I want,” he said casually, pacing around her. “It’s more about what’s happening now. I suppose you’re curious about that.”

He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he inspected her closely. Y/N could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his presence a stark contrast to the familiarity of Aemond’s warmth. Daemon exuded a different kind of intensity—one that was sharp and unpredictable, and it made Y/N’s skin crawl.

“Your Aemond,” Daemon began, his tone dripping with a mix of derision and amusement, “he’s quite the determined fellow, isn’t he? I’ve heard he’s turned the city upside down looking for you. Quite the spectacle, I’m told.”

The mention of Aemond only heightened Y/N’s anxiety. She had faith in his determination, but the thought of him being so consumed by her disappearance, the danger he might be facing—it was almost too much to bear.

“Why are you telling me this?” Y/N asked, her voice cracking. “What do you gain from this?”

Daemon chuckled, a sound that sent chills down her spine. “Oh, nothing much. I’m simply curious to see how this little drama unfolds. It’s always fascinating to watch the players in a game of power, especially when they’re so… emotionally invested.”

He turned his back to her, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly elsewhere. Y/N watched him, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, of what Aemond might be doing, and the fear that she might never get out of this situation.

Daemon seemed to sense her distress, his smirk fading slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much,” he said, his tone softening with a hint of mockery. “I’m sure your precious Aemond will find you. He’s nothing if not tenacious.”

With that, Daemon moved further into the shadows, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts and her fears. The sound of his footsteps eventually faded away, replaced once more by the eerie silence of the warehouse. Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of her situation, but the mention of Aemond’s efforts was a small glimmer of hope.

She clung to that hope, even as she remained tied to the chair, determined to stay strong for Aemond and for herself. She knew he would come for her, and that thought was the only thing that kept her going amidst the overwhelming darkness.

Daemon’s presence seemed to fill the warehouse with a menacing energy as he continued to circle around Y/N. His silver hair caught what little light there was, making him appear almost spectral. The casual cruelty in his tone as he spoke made Y/N’s blood run cold.

“Oh, and by the way,” Daemon said, his voice carrying a hint of malicious amusement, “there’s something you should know. Aemond has a choice to make—one that involves more than just finding you.”

Y/N’s heart sank. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice quavering with a mix of fear and confusion.

Daemon’s smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of satisfaction and cruelty. “We’ve been negotiating,” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “You remember, don’t you? During the party, when you were playing that beautiful music on stage. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a part of the game.”

The mention of the concert seemed to cut through Y/N’s disorientation, bringing a painful clarity. She remembered the night clearly, the tension, the subtle power plays, the sense of being a pawn in a larger game. But hearing Daemon speak of it so coldly, as if reducing it to a mere negotiation tactic, made her shiver.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to steady her voice. “What’s Aemond’s choice?”

Daemon straightened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Aemond has been given an ultimatum,” he explained, his tone dripping with disdain. “He has to give up a significant portion of his territory—his power, his influence—if he wants to secure your release. It’s a steep price, but it’s the only way.”

Y/N’s mind raced. The thought of Aemond being forced to give up so much was a heavy blow. She knew how important his position and his empire were to him. The idea of him sacrificing so much just to get her back was both heart-wrenching and infuriating.

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “He can’t—he won’t do that.”

Daemon shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not about what he wants or doesn’t want. It’s about what he has to do to get you back. I’m sure he’s already weighing his options, trying to figure out how to save you without losing everything he’s worked for.”

He paused, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of pity and contempt. “You see, this is the nature of the game we’re all playing. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. And sometimes, those sacrifices are more than just material.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought of Aemond being put in such a position. She knew how fiercely he protected what was his, and the idea of him having to choose between her and his power was a devastating blow. She couldn’t bear the thought of him losing so much on her account.

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking, “don’t make him do this. There has to be another way.”

Daemon’s eyes softened slightly, but the cruel smirk remained. “I’m afraid the choices are limited,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “Aemond will have to decide how much you’re worth to him. And in the meantime, you’ll stay here, waiting to see what he decides.”

With that, Daemon turned and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. Y/N watched him go, her mind reeling with the implications of what he had said. She felt a deep sense of helplessness and fear, knowing that Aemond was facing an impossible decision.

In the stillness that followed, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the thought of Aemond. She hoped that despite the terrible choices he faced, he would find a way to overcome this challenge. And as she held onto that hope, she prayed that their love—and his resolve—would be enough to see them through this dark time.

Daemon’s call was as cold and calculated as the man himself. He dialed Aemond's number with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment before the call was answered. The line crackled to life, and Daemon's voice, smooth and taunting, emerged from the other end.

“Aemond,” Daemon began, his tone carrying an air of amusement and menace. “I trust you’re still searching for your beloved. I hope you haven’t grown too frustrated.”

Aemond's voice was low and dangerous. “Daemon. What do you want?”

Daemon chuckled softly, a sound that made Aemond’s blood boil. “It’s not what I want, but what you’re willing to do. You see, I’ve been thinking. Your precious Y/N, she’s quite a pianist, isn’t she? It would be a shame if she couldn’t play anymore.”

The threat hung heavy in the air, and Aemond’s eyes narrowed as he listened, his hands clenched into fists. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Daemon continued casually. “Just a little reminder of what’s at stake. I’m not planning to kill her, no. That would be too easy. But imagine this—what if I were to… let’s say, damage her hands? Cut her fingers so she could never play the piano again. A musician’s greatest tool, rendered useless.”

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest. The thought of Y/N being hurt, unable to play the piano that was so integral to her life, was a torment beyond words. His mind raced with the implications of Daemon’s threat, and the fear of what might happen to her if he didn’t act quickly and decisively.

“Daemon, you fucking bastard,” Aemond’s voice was a dangerous whisper, trembling with barely contained rage. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Daemon’s voice was calm, almost soothing in its coldness. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of hurting her. Not yet, anyway. But I need you to understand the gravity of the situation. You have to make a choice, Aemond. Your territory or her well-being. You can’t have both.”

Aemond’s breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts. The pressure of the situation, the fear for Y/N’s safety, and the unrelenting threat from Daemon were pushing him to his limits. His mind was consumed by the need to protect Y/N and the impending sense of loss if he couldn’t find a way out of this impossible dilemma.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Aemond said, his voice a strained growl. “Just don’t hurt her. Please.”

Daemon’s tone remained infuriatingly calm. “I’m glad to hear that you’re willing to make sacrifices. But remember, the more you delay, the more you risk. Time is running out, Aemond.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Aemond seething with a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. He slammed his phone down, the impact sending it skidding across the floor. The threat Daemon had made was more than just words—it was a weapon, designed to break Aemond’s resolve and force him into a corner.

With a furious determination, Aemond turned to Aegon and Helaena, his face pale and drawn but his eyes burning with an intense resolve. “We need to find her,” he said, his voice a strained command. “And we need to do it now. No matter what it takes.”

The urgency in his voice was palpable, and both Aegon and Helaena nodded, their own worry mirrored in their expressions. They knew the stakes had never been higher, and they would do everything in their power to help Aemond in his desperate search for Y/N.

Aemond’s mind was a storm of dark thoughts and fierce determination. He would not rest until Y/N was safe and the threat hanging over her was dealt with. The weight of Daemon’s threat was a heavy burden, but it only fueled his resolve to save her from whatever fate awaited.

Aemond’s fury was palpable as he paced the floor of his office, his mind a whirlwind of anguish and anger. Daemon’s threat had crossed a line, a violation of the unspoken code of honor that even the most ruthless in the mafia adhered to. In the criminal world, there was a certain respect, a recognition of boundaries and rules—even among those who thrived on violence and power.

Daemon’s willingness to harm Y/N, to inflict irreversible damage on her, was not just a threat but a grave insult to Aemond. It was an affront to the very principles that governed their world. Daemon had acted dishonorably, and Aemond knew that such a breach demanded retribution—swift and decisive.

As the realization settled in, Aemond’s anger transformed into a cold, calculating resolve. He could no longer afford to be bound by any previous agreements or restraints. Daemon had made it clear that he had no intention of honoring any code of conduct. Therefore, Aemond would retaliate in kind, but with a ferocity and finality that would ensure Daemon would never threaten anyone again.

He turned to Aegon and Helaena, their worried expressions reflecting his own inner turmoil. “Daemon has crossed a line,” Aemond said, his voice a controlled growl. “He’s violated the honor that governs our world. This is no longer just about territory or negotiations. This is personal. We need to end this. Now.”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed, understanding the gravity of Aemond’s words. “What do you plan to do?”

Aemond’s face hardened with resolve. “Daemon’s actions have forfeited any right to mercy. We will find him, and when we do, we’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done. This isn’t just about reclaiming power or saving Y/N. It’s about setting things right and ensuring that no one else ever dares to break the code like this.”

Helaena, though visibly distressed, nodded in agreement. “We’ll do whatever it takes to help you. But we need a plan. We need to move quickly before Daemon can cause any more harm.”

Aemond’s mind was already racing through strategies, assembling a network of allies, and planning a coordinated strike against Daemon. He knew it wouldn’t be easy; Daemon was a formidable adversary with his own network of loyalists and resources. But the line had been crossed, and Aemond’s resolve was unyielding.

As he prepared for the confrontation, Aemond’s thoughts were consumed with a single, driving purpose: to rescue Y/N and deliver a punishment so severe that it would serve as a warning to anyone who dared to breach the honor code. He would not rest until Daemon was brought to justice, and Y/N was safe.

The weight of his decision was immense, but Aemond’s determination to protect Y/N and restore the balance of honor within their world drove him forward. Daemon had made his move, and now it was time for Aemond to end it, once and for all.

Daemon’s presence in the dimly lit warehouse was almost oppressive. The bare, concrete walls seemed to close in around Y/N as she sat tied to a chair, her wrists bound tightly, and her eyes glazed with exhaustion. The remnants of her once-composed demeanor were now marred by the effects of 24 hours without food or water. Her throat was parched, her lips cracked, and her energy was nearly depleted.

Daemon, on the other hand, was a figure of unsettling calm. He sat casually in a worn-out armchair facing Y/N, his silver hair casting an eerie glow in the scant light that filtered through the dirty windows. His demeanor was a disturbing contrast to Y/N’s state. Daemon’s smirk was cruel and satisfied as he watched her suffering with a kind of detached amusement that seemed to enjoy the discomfort and helplessness in front of him.

He had enjoyed the power this situation gave him, savoring every moment of Y/N’s weakening state. The sight of her thirst and hunger, the way her body slumped with fatigue, brought a twisted pleasure to him. To Daemon, this was not just about the negotiation or the power play—it was about the sadistic enjoyment of breaking someone down, physically and mentally.

“So, Y/N,” Daemon’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and mocking, “how are we feeling today? Still holding on, I see. You’re quite resilient for someone in your position.”

Y/N's head hung low, her eyes struggling to focus on Daemon through the haze of weakness. She wanted to respond, to show him she was not entirely defeated, but her throat felt like sandpaper. She could barely muster the strength to lift her head, let alone speak.

Daemon leaned forward, his gaze scrutinizing her with a predatory gleam. “You know, this could all be over if Aemond simply agrees to my terms. But he’s being stubborn. It’s almost amusing how he’s willing to sacrifice everything for you. It makes me wonder—what makes you so special?”

The question was rhetorical, and Daemon’s tone was more for his own amusement than an actual inquiry. He enjoyed seeing Y/N’s discomfort, her struggle to stay conscious despite her dire condition.

He stood up and walked around her slowly, like a predator circling its prey. “You’re not making this easy on either of us, you know. If only you’d just convince Aemond to make the right choice, this could all end quickly.”

Daemon’s words were punctuated by the faintest hint of cruelty in his voice, the kind that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. His presence was a constant reminder of her vulnerability, and his sadistic pleasure in her suffering made the situation even more unbearable.

“Think about it,” Daemon continued, almost in a whisper, leaning close to her. “If he doesn’t give up his territory, you’ll continue to suffer. And if he does, well, I might just decide to be merciful. But there are no guarantees.”

The uncertainty in his tone was deliberate, adding to Y/N’s despair. He wanted her to feel the full weight of her situation, to be acutely aware of her helplessness and the precariousness of her fate.

As Daemon returned to his chair, his eyes remained fixed on Y/N with an unsettling calmness. He took a sip from a glass of wine he had beside him, savoring it with exaggerated pleasure, as if relishing the stark contrast between his comfort and her suffering.

The hours stretched on, each moment a testament to Daemon’s sadistic control over Y/N’s fate. And as Y/N endured the torment, her mind remained focused on one desperate hope: that Aemond would come through, that he would find her before Daemon could cause any more harm.

Aemond and Aegon were hunched over a map in a dimly lit room, their expressions grim and determined. The urgency of their situation demanded a plan that was both precise and cautious. The standard approach of a violent confrontation or a direct assault was too risky; it could endanger Y/N and potentially alert Daemon's men, making their rescue more complicated.

After a tense silence, Aegon broke the quiet, his voice low and purposeful. “We need a plan that minimizes the risk to Y/N. Bullets and guns might cause collateral damage. We have to find a way to incapacitate everyone in the warehouse without raising alarms.”

Aemond nodded, his jaw clenched with determination. “We’ll use something more subtle. If we can get close enough to their water supply, we can introduce a drug that will make everyone unconscious. It’s the safest way to ensure Y/N isn’t harmed in the process.”

Aegon’s eyes lit up with understanding. “We need to identify their water source and figure out the right dosage. It has to be potent enough to knock everyone out but not so strong that it risks harming Y/N.”

They spent the next several hours coordinating their plan. Aemond used his network to gather information on the warehouse’s layout, including the location of the water supply and any possible entry points. Aegon worked on obtaining the necessary sedative, ensuring it was both effective and safe.

As they prepared, Aemond’s thoughts were solely focused on Y/N. The idea of her suffering under Daemon’s cruel control was unbearable. He had to get her out, and he needed to do it without risking her life. The thought of her being hurt, even accidentally, drove him to be meticulous in their approach.

The plan was to infiltrate the warehouse discreetly. Aemond and Aegon would have to move quickly and carefully to avoid detection. They arranged for a team of trusted allies to assist them, ensuring everyone was briefed on the importance of the operation.

The night before the mission, Aemond found a moment of quiet in his office, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/N. He clutched a small, silver locket that Y/N had given him, a token of their bond. The locket was a constant reminder of what he was fighting for, and he drew strength from it.

Aegon approached, breaking the silence. “Everything’s ready. We’ve got the sedative and a plan to get in and out without raising alarms.”

Aemond looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and anxiety. “Let’s get this done. I want her safe, and I want Daemon to pay for what he’s done.”

Aegon nodded, sharing Aemond’s resolve. “We’ll make sure she’s safe. Daemon won’t know what hit him.”

The operation was set into motion. Aemond and Aegon, along with their team, made their way to the warehouse under the cover of darkness. They approached the water supply with the utmost caution, ensuring they didn’t alert any of Daemon’s men.

With practiced precision, they introduced the drug into the water, ensuring it mixed thoroughly. Once the task was complete, they retreated, ready to execute the next phase of their plan.

As they waited for the drug to take effect, Aemond’s mind was solely on Y/N. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and he was determined to bring her back safely. The stakes were high, but Aemond’s resolve was unwavering. He would do whatever it took to rescue her and put an end to Daemon’s reign of terror.

The warehouse was eerily quiet after hours of tense waiting. Aemond and Aegon, along with their team, had successfully introduced the drug into the water supply, and now they were poised to act. The silence that settled over the facility was a promising sign that the drug had taken effect. It was time to move.

Under the cover of darkness, Aemond and Aegon moved stealthily through the warehouse, their footsteps almost imperceptible on the concrete floor. They had outfitted themselves with silenced weapons, knowing that any noise could jeopardize their mission. Each member of their team was carefully briefed to maintain complete silence and efficiency.

As they approached the warehouse, the scene was just as they had hoped: guards were slumped over or collapsed in their posts, rendered unconscious by the drugged water. The air was thick with the tension of their carefully executed plan. Aemond’s heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He was desperate to find Y/N and ensure she was safe.

One by one, they methodically eliminated the remaining guards. The silenced guns fired with barely a sound, each shot precise and deliberate. The guards who had managed to stay awake were swiftly dealt with, leaving no room for error. The entire operation was executed with the precision of a well-oiled machine.

Aemond’s focus was unwavering as they advanced deeper into the warehouse. The corridor they navigated was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced eerily on the walls. His mind was set on one goal: reaching Y/N. The thought of her bound and alone was a driving force behind every step he took.

Finally, they reached the hall where Y/N was tied. The sight that greeted them was a stark reminder of the urgency of their mission. Y/N was slumped in a chair, her body weak from hours of deprivation. Her appearance was distressing—her face was pale, her lips cracked, and her eyes fluttered as she fought to stay awake. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state ignited a fierce protectiveness in Aemond.

Aemond moved forward, his expression a mix of relief and anguish. He knelt beside Y/N, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch was tender, his hands shaking slightly as he worked to untie her bonds.

“Aemond…” Y/N murmured weakly, her voice barely audible. The sound of his name was enough to break through the haze of her condition.

“Shh, I’m here,” Aemond whispered, his voice filled with both reassurance and determination. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

He carefully worked on the ropes, his movements precise yet gentle. Aegon and the rest of the team maintained their vigilance, ensuring no threats remained. The warehouse was now a scene of controlled chaos, with their mission nearing its end.

As the ropes fell away, Aemond lifted Y/N into his arms, holding her close. The exhaustion was evident in her frail form, but the fact that she was safe was a comfort that outweighed the turmoil of the moment.

“We’ve got you,” Aemond said softly, his voice filled with an intensity that conveyed just how much he meant those words. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

With Y/N safely in his arms, Aemond led the way out of the warehouse, his heart a storm of relief and anger. The mission was far from over, but the most crucial part was complete. They had rescued Y/N, and now their focus was on ensuring her safety and bringing justice to those who had wronged her.

As they emerged into the night, Aemond’s resolve hardened. Daemon would face the consequences of his actions, and Aemond would make sure that Y/N was protected and cared for. The warehouse behind them was now a grim reminder of the lengths he would go to for the ones he loved.

Aemond’s focus was solely on Y/N. Despite the significant victory of capturing Daemon, his thoughts were consumed by the condition in which he found Y/N. She was the priority, and he could not afford to be distracted by anything else.

As Aemond carried her out of the warehouse, he was acutely aware of how frail and vulnerable she looked. Her skin was pale, her lips cracked from dehydration, and her body was visibly weakened by hunger. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, and it was clear that she was barely clinging to consciousness. The sight of her in such a state cut through Aemond with a profound sense of urgency and guilt.

Once outside, Aemond carefully laid Y/N down on a makeshift stretcher that had been prepared for her. His hands were gentle but determined as he checked her vitals and made sure she was as comfortable as possible. The team had prepared water and medical supplies, and Aemond’s primary concern was to rehydrate her and tend to her immediate needs.

He looked at his men with a fierce intensity. “Get her water and something to eat. We need to stabilize her now. She’s been through hell, and we can’t afford any more delays.”

Aegon, who had been monitoring the situation closely, quickly moved to get the necessary supplies. He handed over a bottle of water and some high-energy food, which Aemond administered to Y/N with careful precision. He held her head gently as she sipped the water, his eyes never leaving her face.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus on Aemond, her expression a mix of confusion and relief. The first few sips of water seemed to revive her slightly, bringing a faint color back to her cheeks. Aemond could see her strength slowly returning as she managed to swallow small bites of food.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Aemond said softly, his voice soothing despite the raw edge of worry. “You’re safe now. We’re going to take care of you.”

As Y/N’s condition improved, Aemond’s mind briefly shifted to Daemon, who was now in custody. But his thoughts quickly returned to Y/N, driven by the overwhelming need to ensure her recovery. The guilt of not being able to protect her from the ordeal weighed heavily on him, and he was determined to make it right.

Aemond stayed by her side, his attention solely on her well-being. He monitored her as the medical team attended to her, ensuring she received the care she needed. Every slight improvement in her condition was a small victory, a testament to the strength of their bond and the care he had for her.

As Y/N began to regain her strength, Aemond’s resolve grew stronger. The ordeal had only deepened his commitment to protecting her and ensuring that nothing like this would ever happen again. Daemon’s fate was sealed, but for Aemond, the real victory was seeing Y/N safe and recovering in his arms.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her vision still clouded by exhaustion and dehydration. As her gaze focused, she saw Aemond’s face, a beacon of familiarity amidst her foggy mind. Despite the pain and weakness, a weak smile formed on her lips.

“Aemond, is that you?” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. The sight of him felt almost unreal, like a dream she wasn’t sure she was truly experiencing. “Am I hallucinating?”

Aemond’s heart ached at the sight of her so fragile. He gently cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek with a tenderness that belied the storm of emotions raging within him.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of relief and anguish. “You’re not hallucinating. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto hers with a fierce protectiveness. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here sooner. But you’re safe now, and I’m not going to leave your side.”

Y/N’s strength was waning, but she managed to squeeze Aemond’s hand weakly. Her eyes softened, though they still carried the weight of her ordeal.

“I… I knew you’d come,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I just... needed to hear you.”

Aemond’s eyes filled with unshed tears, the depth of his relief mingling with the pain of seeing her so vulnerable. He gently helped her sit up slightly, offering her the water and food with careful hands.

“Drink this, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a soothing murmur. “It’ll help you feel better. Just take it slow.”

As she sipped the water, Aemond watched her with an intensity that spoke volumes. His every movement was filled with a desperate need to make things right, to heal the wounds inflicted by Daemon and ensure that Y/N felt safe and loved.

With Y/N slowly regaining her strength, Aemond remained by her side, providing constant reassurance and comfort. The ordeal had been harrowing, but the sight of her beginning to recover was a testament to the strength of their bond and the determination to protect her at all costs.

In a darkened room of the warehouse, Aegon was fully immersed in his work, his demeanor a stark contrast to the compassion Aemond showed Y/N. The room was filled with the low hum of machinery and the occasional, muffled sound of Daemon's struggling. The air was thick with tension and the unmistakable scent of danger.

Daemon was bound to a chair, his face a mix of defiance and fear. Despite his arrogance, the reality of his situation was beginning to set in. Aegon loomed over him, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he toyed with various instruments of intimidation.

“You know, Daemon,” Aegon began, his tone dripping with a dark amusement, “Y/N reminds me a lot of my sister, Helaena. Innocent, pure, and completely out of her depth in this world of ours. You did wrong, and you know it. You broke the code, a code that even we—despite everything—hold sacred.”

Aegon paced slowly around Daemon, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mixture of satisfaction and malice. The dim light cast long shadows, adding an extra layer of menace to his presence.

“We don’t just act on whims here,” Aegon continued, his voice carrying an edge of finality. “There’s honor in what we do, even if it’s twisted and dark. You violated that honor by hurting someone like Y/N. Someone who had no place in our world but was dragged into it by your recklessness.”

Daemon’s eyes darted around, trying to gauge his options, but the fear was palpable. He knew the rules, and he had broken them in the most egregious manner possible. Aegon’s words cut through the room, a harsh reminder of the consequences of his actions.

“You’re not just paying for your crimes against Y/N,” Aegon said coldly, “You’re paying for breaking the unspoken laws we live by. Now, we have every right to retaliate, to show that there are lines you don’t cross.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. The room was filled with the sounds of Daemon’s ragged breathing and the clinking of metal. Aegon took a step closer, his smile widening as he relished the fear in Daemon’s eyes.

“We’ll break the code, Daemon,” Aegon said softly, almost conversationally. “Just as you broke it. And when we’re done, you’ll wish you’d never crossed us.”

With a final, lingering glance at his captive, Aegon turned away, his mind already drifting back to the task at hand. Daemon’s fate was sealed, and the vengeance exacted would be a stark reminder of the consequences of defying the unwritten rules of their world.

The past week had been a grueling ordeal for Y/N. Her recovery was slow, and every day seemed to stretch on endlessly. Through it all, Aemond had been a constant presence by her side. His vigilance was almost suffocating; he never left her room and refused to let her do even the simplest of tasks. His every movement was marked by a palpable tension, and his eyes never left her, filled with an unspoken guilt and anguish.

Aemond’s behavior was a stark contrast to his usual composed self. He hovered around Y/N with an anxious intensity, his normally sharp gaze softened into one of deep concern. His hands, usually steady and deliberate, now trembled slightly whenever he touched her. He seemed almost afraid to leave her side, as if any distance might somehow undo the progress she had made.

Noticing his distress, Y/N decided to lighten the mood. With a small, reassuring smile, she teased, “Looks like your bodyguards failed, Aemond.”

Aemond’s eyes, usually so fierce and commanding, softened as he met her gaze. His expression darkened slightly, and his voice held a note of seriousness as he replied, “You think what happened was a joke?”

Y/N could see the strain etched into his features, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes were filled with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. “I was one step away from setting the entire city on fire,” he added, his voice tinged with a hint of a threat, though it was clear that the anger was directed inward.

Y/N’s smile widened as she continued, “It would have been a lot of ashes to clean then.”

Aemond’s face remained stern, but a flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Yn, stop it. This... What happened... It’s not a joke. It wasn’t—”

Y/N tilted her head playfully. “Hmm... Do you want me to cry?”

Aemond’s voice softened further, his frustration giving way to desperation. “No, I want you to be happy.”

Y/N’s teasing smile grew wider. “Do I look happy now?”

At that moment, the dam within Aemond finally broke. His eyes, which had been brimming with unshed tears, overflowed. He moved swiftly to Y/N’s side, enveloping her in a tight, desperate embrace. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, the weight of his guilt and fear crashing down on him.

“There, there, Aemond,” Y/N whispered softly, her voice tender and soothing. “I’m here, and I am here because of you.”

Her words seemed to be the balm Aemond needed. He clung to her, his tears soaking into her shoulder as he let the release of his emotions wash over him. For the first time since Y/N’s ordeal, he allowed himself to break down, finding solace in the knowledge that she was alive and in his arms.

As Y/N held him close, her own heart ached with a mixture of sadness and love. She knew the toll this had taken on him, and though her own recovery was far from complete, she found strength in comforting him. The bond between them, though tested by the events, was undeniably stronger, forged in the fire of their shared trials.

Aemond pulled back slightly, his tear-streaked face softening as he looked at Y/N. Her gaze was steady, filled with warmth and reassurance.

“Can you let this go now?” she asked gently, her voice soothing.

Aemond nodded slowly, his emotions still raw but his resolve firming.

Y/N offered him a small, comforting smile. “And I promise something,” she continued. “You can have as many bodyguards on me as you want. But please... don’t stop smiling.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint, hesitant smile despite the lingering sadness in his eyes. The promise in her words, her insistence on seeing him smile, was a beacon of hope in the midst of the turmoil.

He took her hand in his, his grip firm but gentle. “I’ll do my best, Y/N,” he said softly. “I promise.”