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    Summary

    "Now, darling," your mother stroked your hair gently, her eyes kind as she spoke to you, "remember that the children of Alicent Hightower are nothing like you. You are the heir to the Iron Throne, and they" she scoffed, "why, they would do anything they must to get their hands on it." She kissed your forehead, "Please don't be blinded by pretty words. It doesn't suit you."

    You and Aemond should hate each other: you are the daughter or Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, and he is the brother to your mother's most direct threat to her eventual rein. In the light of day that is so simple for you to understand. So why is it that your secret library meetings have you starting to trust him? And why does his roguish smile suddenly have you so weak in the knees?

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