Chapter Text
The Red Keep was a cold place. The wind here seemed to pierce stone, leaving you with only a hearth stay warm. Anytime you dare leave your room it was armed in layer after layer of fur and cloth. Servants and lords wouldn’t dare stare, but you could still feel the judgement. Especially from Alicent.
The woman wasted no time in commenting on your appearance at every meal or brief passing through the halls. Mainly on your refusal to wear the many gowns she had forced into your closet. One morning after the next, guards would find dresses in the courtyard below your balcony. It wasn't you're fault they seemed deliberately unflattering and restrictive. Barely giving you enough space to raise an arm or run. If an assassin were to find themselves in your room you’re sure this was a ploy by the Queen to render you helpless, unable to properly swing a blade.
Except for small meetings with Helaena, you were alone. Utterly and completely alone. Something you have begun to both hate and admire about your husband is how lightly the man could step. You’d searched the entire castle, every hall. Every room you could access. And yet there was still no sign of him. Unbeknownst to you, he’d actually taken refuge in his brother's bedroom, or rather, Prince Aegon pulled him in before you could catch sight of either of them round the corner.
Shaking out of Aegon’s grip, Aemond rolls his shoulders. Dusting off the invisible filth from his brother's hands, asking tiredly “Must you?” The other silver-haired prince nods, falling backwards into a lounge chair “I must. My brother is simply lost without my guidance. I see that now, truly a disappointment. It’s no wonder you haven't managed to sire any bastards of your own, if you can hardly look at a woman legally obligated to bare your deformed offspring”
Aemond curls a lip in disgust, his brother's view of you causing his chest to burn. He was angry, he was always angry. “I look at my wife.” The older boy snickers, slouched lazily in his seat “I know you do. It’s painful, why must you restrain yourself? It’s-umm…pitiful.” Aemond straightens, replying with one of his calculated responses, as usual. Not offering Aegon the ability to humiliate him again. “The Princess deserves my respects, I am to treat her as a husband should, not as a common whore.”
Aegon poured a large glass of wine, one that resembles his mothers appetite “She might want the second thing as well, but you won’t know because you can barely talk to her. I could help convince if–” Aemond was quick to snap that string of sentences, cutting down the proposal with a simple “No.” Aegon raises his hands in mocking defeat, one clasping the goblet tightly in the air, as to not spill a single drop. “All I’m saying is brother, if this continues any longer your balls will dry and fall off by the time you're done ‘respecting’ the poor creature.”
“May I remind you that her house is tied to an entire continent outside our reach, with its own army and King. Word travels fast. This alliance must be treated delicately.” The other prince mutters “You’re delicate.” into the rim of his glass like a pouting child.
“She is not fond of me, but I don’t believe she holds any distaste against me.” Aegon rolls his eyes, sinking down further and groaning “‘Fond’ Gods. Who cares if the woman likes you or not” his brother remains quiet, unable to produce a convincing lie in time for Aegon to put two and two together.
It was dangerous, he was giving Aegon something he’d promised to hide away forever. Never wishing to feel so vulnerable ever again. Not after that night. “Oh. Oooh.”
“Aegon.” He begins to laugh, cruelly. Excited. The Prince stands. Stalking his way towards his brother wickedly, cackling away. “You care for her? Still, after all this time? That truly is pitiful, Brother. Your first love, how dreadfully sweet. It sickens me.” Overwhelmed, frustrated, humiliated. Aemond storms out of the room with Aegon laughing over his shoulder, not bothering to follow. “Send word once my nephew has been delivered!”
Due to his missing eye and the patch covering a hidden gem he’d used to replace the organ, Aemond walked directly into you during this emotional outburst. It was no one's fault, you were simply in his blind spot. He caught you, head snapping towards the source of his soon to be bruised shoulder, eyes wild with rage. A feeling soon extinguished by the sight of your bleeding nose.
“My apologies, Prince Aemond. I hadn’t expected such an abrupt exit." His arms were clamped around your waist and arm, pulling you up onto your feet then slowly retracting. “My Lady, it is I who should be seeking forgiveness." This was probably the most words he had spoken to you since the wedding, he was also staring at you, eye glossed over like he could shed a tear any moment. It was jarring. You wanted to both offer comfort and return the injury ten fold. “Do you wish to walk with me? I was going to spend my day with your sister but she was occupied with The Queen.”
“Have you no one else?” Aemond asks before his mind has time to correct any stupidity. His eye stays focused on the red pearl of blood as it oozes down from his wife’s nose. “Pardon?” You raised a brow, not fully expecting such a blunt response. “Helaena is not the most sociable. If you will excuse me, My Lady. I have a council to attend.” you feel the liquid pool around your upper lip, warm and metallic. Perhaps he was scared of blood? But that still would not explain his efforts in avoiding you. “Of course.” Bowing your head you allow the Prince to strut away, plans of confronting his not abandoned but altered. You’d need to catch him in the act.
Hence why you were currently hiding behind the boudoir screen in the corner of your room, scarves filling the gaps below so as to not reveal your feet. You’d taken your usual bath this morning before the sun rose, it was the only time he could sneak in. The sun had set and your girls had left to their own beds in the servants quarters. Sword in hand, you wait.
The door clicks and you peek through the gaps of the screen, sure enough it was Aemond, box in hand. The Prince approaches your bed, but before he can reach for your pillow you step out silently. Pressing the kilij blade against his throat. “Entering a lady's chambers without knocking is hardly polite.”
He quickly tucks the box behind his back. You watch closely as he swallows, Adams' apple bobbing up and down as he tilts his head away from your sword. “What do you have there?” pressing the blade further, allowing it to kiss his skin openly. You were careful, precise in your movement. “None of your concern, My Lady” huffing out a laugh you step closer, “It’s in my room and therefore my concern. Hand it over.” You were in his blind spot. Again.
The Prince lifts his chin, attempting to hide the thing from your gaze. Glaring a hole into the front of his patch. He moves, offering you the box. Grinning, you do not yield. Mumbling a small “Thank you.” Happy he was obeying you so willingly.
Opening the smooth black box you find a pair of gloves. They were ornate, decorated by hand in a recognisable stitching pattern. Helaena. A large spider was sewn into one of the backs, the other had large webs stretching across the fingers and palm. “Oh.” lowering your sword you slip on the gloves, they fit perfectly and are incredibly warm. “Helaena wished for me to convey her thanks.”
It was a lie. He asked for her help. He noticed you shivering, frozen hands and attempting to warm them in your skirts. He’d brushed one on accident once and almost yelped. They felt dead. Cooled in mud and damp. In reality he had bribed his sister, offering to have the servants spend hours in the gardens searching for unhatched crystalists.
Smiling, enjoying the smell of fresh leather, you ask your long awaited question. “Who am I to thank for my other gifts?” Watching his feigned ignorance was amusing. “Others?” nodding you continue, taking a daring step closer, looking up at him sweetly, “Yes. Almost every night now I'll find something under my pillow. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you. My Prince?” He glances at the door, the only escape, then back at you.
Aemond was struggling, you were beautiful. You were also skilled. His heart could not last in these conditions. The whole point of this passive courting was avoiding you, the closer you got the more of a target you would become as a tool Aegon could use against him. “Admit it.” You spoke clearly. “You’ve been breaking into my room, and ignoring me.”
“I assure you my intentions were–” “to break into my chambers.” Aemond glances down at your blade then back at you, moving quickly but not fast enough. In his failed attempt to pull out his own blade you hook an ankle and shove him to the ground, sharp heel pressing into his chest. Barely giving it room to rise and fall naturally to recover after having the wind knocked out of his chest. A well deserved fate.
The edge of your blade scrapes over the stone floor, resting closely next to his temple. Using the point of your shoe to move his head to the side, directing using the chin. “That was foolish” he’s panting softly, trusting the woman above him to show mercy. “I couldn’t see you.”
“I know. That's why I approach on your left”
Allowing him his freedom, you move, watching as he gets up by himself. Slowly. You’re surprised he hadn’t had you beheaded yet, after all the man must have been embarrassed. Instead of rage, you are surprised with a compliment, a normal one. “You are well trained with the sword.”
“I know”
Sitting back on a lounge chair you notice the pink staining his once pale cheeks, ears burning brightly in the candlelight. A stiff air drifts between you both. He really didn’t know how to talk to you, it was like an awkward teen was wearing the skin of an adult man, unwillingly. Inevitably, The Prince drifts closer until he is standing directly above you. “How is your face?” You hadn’t expected him to care, at the time he seemed so adamant on leaving. The bridge of your nose was still throbbing hours later, sensitive to the cold air. “Still stings.”
He turns your chair closer to a torch, hands suddenly either side of your face. “Let me see.” He runs a thumb over the scab, lining one side of your nose crookedly. Gripping his wrist softly, you could see a small sheen of guilt in his eye. “It's a small tear, not worth seeing the maesters over. It stopped bleeding soon after we parted ways.”
His voice was gentle, mimicking the quiet flames scattered over your room. Warm. His hands also felt so warm. “I didn’t mean to injure you.” He drew closer, falling down on one knee before you. It was genuine. “If you want me to forgive you then you have to do something for me first.” His eye widened, gaze unblinking. “Come riding with me, I've barely seen you since the ceremony and I tire of wandering around The Red Keep.”
Nodding, he rises to his feet, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “It would be my pleasure to accompany you, My Lady.”