Chapter Text
Prologue
Alicent unrolled the tiny scroll with a sinking feeling in her stomach. The raven from Lord Robert Boniffus confirmed her worst fear: Eight months into their marriage, her daughter Aemma had failed to give him an heir, and he’d given up on her. Lord Robert demanded the marriage be annulled—and with it their political arrangement. Aemma and her dragon would be returning to King’s Landing as soon as the dragon’s wing was healed enough for it to fly.
This was a nightmare. Viserys was furious when she told him. He insisted Aemma had purposely prevented herself from getting pregnant to get back at him for sending her into a marriage she was vehemently opposed to. He shamelessly pleaded with Lord Robert to give her another chance, just a few more months, but he refused. He was getting old, he said, and since his three boys perished in a fire, he no longer had an heir. He had no more time to waste. He needed a fertile wife who would give him sons.
*****
Aemond watched Aemma lay her face against her gold dragon, her hand tracing over the silver-edged scales as she spoke softly to her. Goldenwing purred her response, and Aemma closed her eyes and smiled. Aemond’s heart pounded as he looked at his twin. He hadn’t seen her in two months, and they hadn’t been able to spend a proper amount of time together since her wedding.
He walked across the platform where many dreamers had attempted to claim dragons only to meet a violent and fiery end. Goldenwing snorted as he approached, and Aemma looked up and met his eye.
“Aemond!” She gave her dragon a final nuzzle before running to throw her arms around him. He returned her embrace, then held her at arm’s length so he could study her. Aemma’s silver hair was pulled back in long braids, as usual. But her cheekbones were sharper, her normally bright, lilac-colored eyes were dull, and the bags under her eyes made him wonder how many weeks it had been since she’d had a good night’s rest.
“I’m so happy to see you.” She cupped his cheek as her eyes filled with tears. “So much has happened.”
He leaned into her soft touch. “You’re home now. And you’ll not leave again. Vhagar and I won’t allow it.”
She sniffled. “I know. I’m grateful for you, brother. I shouldn’t be crying. I apologize.”
He wasn’t sure which startled him more: that the fiercest person he knew was crying, or that she’d apologized for crying. He held her face, and gently wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “Em. Are you hurt?”
“I’ll be fine. Now that I’m here, I’ll be fine.” She smiled, putting her hands over his and pulling them away.
He wasn’t satisfied by her answer, but he knew he wouldn’t get any more information out of her right now. She would talk to him when she was ready.
“What of Goldenwing? The raven’s message mentioned she was injured, too injured to fly.”
Anger flickered in her eyes as she swiped at the remaining tears. “She has mostly healed, but the flight home was difficult for her. We’ll speak of it later.”
They mounted his horse and trotted through the streets. His eye scanned their surroundings for threats. He’d come alone, despite the protests of the Kingsguard, so the two of them could reunite without an audience.
“I'll instruct the guards not to disturb us when we return, so that you may rest."
“Not yet. I’m famished. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed our meals. The food at Lord Robert’s castle was unfit for even sheep to eat.” She shuddered. “There was this green soup. I should’ve brought some back for our Maesters to study. Twice I saw it move on its own.”
Aemond snorted. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him and laid her head against his back. Two highborn ladies stopped and stared at them, whispering to each other as they passed them on the street. They dropped their eyes as they met Aemond’s glare and hurried along.
As the Red Keep came into view, Aemma said, “Goldwing has endured much. As you well know, dragons are prideful creatures.” She paused, and he knew she was carefully considering her words. “Lord Robert’s servants were terrified of her, and they didn’t care for her as I explicitly instructed.”
Aemond said nothing, although his hands tightened on the reins as he thought of common servants coming near Goldenwing, let alone caring for her, whatever that even meant.
“I don’t know everything that happened. There are things she has hidden from my mind, like how the injury to her wing occurred. She will need much of my attention for a while.”
“Are you implying that your dragon was harmed by common-born imbeciles?” he asked, carefully controlling his fury to avoid drawing attention. “Why did she allow it? She should’ve burned them all.”
“Because of me.” Her voice broke. “They threatened to kill me if she didn’t submit to them. I failed her, Aemond. I should’ve done something. They kept me from her. I didn’t know where she was. I didn’t know how to help her.” The tears she’d just gotten control of flowed freely again. “I’m so sorry. I tried to run, when I first found out they were hurting her. I couldn’t find her. They caught me. They said they’d kill her if I tried to leave again. Gods, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!” he snapped. “You’ve done nothing wrong!”
“I’m—” she paused, closed her eyes, and began again. “I have brought shame upon our house. I have brought shame upon you.”
“Anyone who says such a thing will have their tongue ripped out.”
She didn’t respond.
Lord Boniffus and those of his house will be sorry they ever heard the name Targaryen, Aemond thought, his face twisted in rage. He’d make sure the dragon had her opportunity for revenge, too.
The advantage Viserys believed they’d gained by wedding Aemma to Lord Boniffus was an illusion to begin with. The armies they’d been promised through their alliance were small and poorly trained; Aemond doubted they could win a battle against cats. Viserys had given up a dragon and a dragon rider in exchange for nothing. He was losing his mind, and his council was enabling him.
They were met at the gate by an anxious servant Aemond didn’t recognize. He bowed, barely looking at them before dropping his eyes.
“Begging your pardons, my Prince and Princess. The King has requested your immediate presence in the throne room.”
“The King can wait,” Aemond said sharply.
“I’m sorry, my Prince,” he said, flinching. “He was very clear about his wishes.” He braved a longer glance at Aemond, taking in the scar and the eye patch.
He was not in the mood for this. “You may tell the King to—”
“It’s alright.” Aemma put her hand on his arm. To the servant, she said, “Tell King Viserys we are on our way.”
“Thank you, Princess.” He bowed again and hurried away.
“Some things never change,” she muttered.
“Let me handle it. He can wait.”
“No. Let’s just get on with it so I can rest, and we can enjoy each other's company.” She squeezed his shoulder before pulling her hand away.
Her reluctance to defy his wishes infuriated him. “He sent you away, and now the instant you’re back he demands to see you? You’re not his whore. You’re his daughter.”
“Still so overprotective,” she said as she dismounted the horse. “As you well know, it means nothing to him that I’m his blood. It’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s go.”
“As you wish.”
She smiled at him as he hopped down from the horse in one fluid motion. He drank in the sight of her: the deep dimples at the corners of her mouth, her flawless skin, the rosiness in her cheeks. He’d missed her laughter and her jokes. He’d missed the way she looked in his eye and saw him.
“Your overprotectiveness used to drive me insane, you know.” She hooked her arm in his as they walked. “But you can’t imagine how much I’ve missed having you looking out for me these past months.”
Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he asked, “When have I ever been overprotective of you?”
Aemma hummed. “Lots of times. Let’s see. Remember when we were around thirteen or fourteen years old, and we slipped away from old Ser— what was his name? Godfrey, I think? Anyway, we wandered through that field of grass and weeds that were taller than we were. There were pink and white flowers growing here and there, and hills in the distance. The view was breathtaking. I'll never forget it. And then we found that lake. And I wanted to go swimming, but you wouldn’t let me. You said we didn’t know what might be living in the water.”
“That wasn’t overprotectiveness,” he said. “It was common sense. And as I remember, there was a fish swimming near the bank that was quite large and covered in spikes. It would’ve attacked you.”
She put her hand over her chest, gasping dramatically as she leaned into him. “Imagine the scandal.” Imitating a gossiping lady, she whispered, “Have you heard? The Princess was attacked by a quite large fish that was covered in spikes after her brother foolishly allowed her to swim in a lake.”
He scowled at her as they entered the throne room.
Viserys sat on the throne, with Otto on his left side and Alicent on his right.
“My sweet girl,” Alicent said, smiling as she walked over to Aemma. She grabbed both sides of Aemma’s face and kissed her forehead. “It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise, Mother.” She smiled.
Viserys glared at his daughter and said nothing.
You haven’t seen her since you shipped her off eight months ago, Aemond thought, and you can’t even manage a ‘hello’? You can’t even say ‘welcome home!?’
Like with the countless other rejections, insults, and brushoffs they’d gotten throughout their lives, Aemond told himself it didn’t matter. Viserys wasn’t going to change.
Alicent went back to her place by the King. Aemond stood by Aemma, who mirrored exactly the impassive look on his face.
Viserys leaned forward on the Iron Throne, as if trying to see her better. Aemond wondered if he’d lose his balance and fall off. The man looked half dead. He supposed he should be concerned, but he felt nothing.
In the way he had of smiling without smiling, Viserys said, “Aemma. I see you’ve found a way to end the marriage you were so opposed to.”
She stood at her full height, head held high, hands clasped behind her back just like her twin. “I made every effort to perform the duty that was expected of me, Father.”
He looked at her with dead eyes, as if he were looking at one of his subjects. “You will address your King as ‘Your Grace,’” he said.
‘Your Grace?’ Aemond thought, narrowing his eye. And what if I tell him to address her as ‘Princess’?
Even Otto looked uncomfortable. His mother looked at Viserys and began to pick at her thumbnail. Aemond thought she might say something in Aemma’s defense, but she didn’t. He listened with increasing anger as Viserys questioned his twin relentlessly.
“Tell me why you didn’t get pregnant,” Viserys demanded.
Aemma’s shoulders drooped, just slightly. “I don’t know… your Grace.”
“Did you somehow prevent yourself from getting pregnant?”
“No, your Grace.”
“Did you participate in any behaviors that might’ve prevented pregnancy?”
Aemma took a deep breath. “No, your Grace.”
Aemond could feel her frustration. He kept his face expressionless with an effort. He heard Aemma’s stomach growl and wondered when she ate last.
“Perhaps you were secretly having the Maester bring you a certain tea in the mornings."
Aemma bristled. “No, Your Grace. Please, I have already been—” She swallowed. Aemond saw her look at him out of the corner of her eye with fear. “—interrogated in front of Lord Robert’s council.”
Interrogated.
Aemond’s hands balled into fists. Perhaps he would do some interrogating of his own.
Alicent watched her daughter with concern filling her brown eyes.
“I’ll tell you what I told them! I longed for pregnancy! A child would’ve given me something to live for.” With pleading eyes, she looked at Alicent.
“We have been blessed, Husband, with five beautiful children,” Alicent said, turning to him. “As you know from the death of your first wife, motherhood is never guaranteed.”
Viserys glared at her, and something hard but unspoken passed between them. Alicent held his gaze until he turned back to Aemma, who, incidentally, bore his first wife’s name.
“I understand Lord Robert’s Maesters examined you frequently and could find no medical reason for your failure to become pregnant. I can only conclude that you must in some way be responsible.”
Aemond wanted to punch the smile off his face.
“I told you, I wanted a child! I had no one!”
“You’ve never wanted a child! Or a marriage! I've always believed there was something wrong with you. You’ve always been rebellious, a constant thorn in my side.”
Aemond's lips pressed into a twisted line. His entire body tensed as he considered stabbing the King in the face with his sword.
Aemma grabbed his arm in a panic and held onto it. "No!" she said, leaning close to his ear. "I know what you're thinking. You'll never get past his guards. You'll be executed."
He smiled at Viserys and was pleased to see a spark of fear in his eyes.
"Don't, Aemond!" she hissed. "I need you!"
She quickly resumed defending herself to her father. “If you can’t believe I wanted a child, then believe this,” she said. “If I could’ve gotten pregnant, I would have immediately, if for no other reason than to get him to stop touching me! He’s old and awful.”
Aemond looked at her. Her lips were trembling, and the corners of her eyes were wet. He reached for her hand, but she crossed her arms.
Alicent looked at him, shaking her head. “Viserys… this isn’t necessary. She’s been through enough.”
“This is Crown business, Alicent. I will decide what is necessary,” he said, dismissing her. Returning his attention to Aemma, he said, “I’ll not hear you speak of a Lord in such a manner.
“Perhaps you didn’t make enough attempts. Perhaps you should’ve tried harder.”
“Your Grace. With the Maesters and Septons overseeing, Lord Robert and I ‘made attempts’ every morning and night.”
Aemond squeezed his hands together with nearly enough force to break the bones. The thought of that old toad fucking his sister while a bunch of other old fucks watched and got off on it… He turned to look at Alicent, who was rapidly blinking her wet eyes. She nodded slightly at Aemma, encouraging her to continue.
“The Septons prayed over me twice daily. I was forced to stay in bed, lying flat, for much of the last month, to ensure his seed stayed inside my body.”
Aemond looked over at her as her voice broke.
She stared at the marble floor and subconsciously rubbed her wrists.
She rubbed them as if they’d been tied, and she was remembering.
‘Forced to stay in bed,’ she’d said.
He would kill Lord Bonifuss slowly.
“But perhaps you should’ve—”
“Viserys! Crown business or not, we’re done here,” Alicent said.
He turned to her in protest, but Otto cut him off before he could continue. “The Princess has just arrived on dragonback after a lengthy trip, my King. She requires food and rest.”
“Come darling. I’ll have the evening meal brought to your chambers.” Alicent put an arm around her and guided her out of the throne room. Aemond met Viserys’s eyes, and they stared at each other for a long minute before he turned to follow Aemma and Alicent.
The three of them stopped outside the heavy door leading to Aemond’s chambers. Alicent kissed Aemma’s cheek, then left to instruct the servants. The guards opened the doors, and Aemond led his twin into the rooms they’d shared since birth, up until the time Aemma was given to Lord Boniffus.
Finding out she’d been betrothed to him had been one of the worst days of Aemond’s life. Viserys had given her away like she was nothing, to someone who thought of her only as a means to an end. He and Aemma had always assumed they’d be betrothed to each other, as Targaryens had done for centuries, like Aegon and Helaena had been.
Then they found out they’d be separated by hundreds of miles for the rest of their lives. They’d protested, of course: Aemma wasn’t meant for the mundane life of a lord’s wife, he’d insisted. She wasn’t suited to domestic responsibilities. Ser Arryk added that she was a fine swordsman, a fearless dragon rider, and a competent soldier. She was Aemond’s partner in the sky when the presence of dragons was required, and it would be a bad idea to change that.
Even Otto suggested to Viserys that with her fighting skills and dragon, she was too valuable to marry off.
Their protests were dismissed as “selfish” and “misguided.”
But now she was here, in their chambers, and Aemond would not let her go again.
As he helped her settle in, she didn’t speak. What she’d endured at the hands of a husband who should've protected her was unimaginable. Being questioned like a common criminal about something so intimate by their own father, such as he was, in front of their grandfather, was cruelty beyond measure.
She went to her bureau and pulled out some of her own clothes. Aemond watched her run her fingers over the fabric with a small smile before taking them behind the dressing screen. Aemond had kept all of her possessions exactly as she had left them. Lord Boniffus had refused to let her bring anything of her own with her. He covered her in exquisite jewelry and dressed her in fancy gowns he had specifically created for her. She was an ornament, a prize, meant to sit by his side at parties and social events with no purpose other than to be admired and lusted after, to boost the ego of a man who wasn’t worthy of breathing the same air as her.
Aemond sat on Aemma’s bed to wait for her to dress. He hated feeling so helpless. He wanted to take away her pain, but even when they were children, he’d never been any good at knowing how to comfort her when she’d been hurt. He’d been taught to fight, to be a weapon, to inflict pain. Not heal it.
He thought back to their childhood. When Aemma had nightmares, she’d crawl in bed with him to feel safe. But the last thing she’d want after the last months was to be in a man’s bed, even his.
When someone had hurt her, he’d beat them until they begged him to stop. That was certainly going to happen; Aemond would fly to their tiny little islands and he’d slice Lord Boniffus into pieces. He’d do it slowly, over the course of days, for as long as he could keep him alive. He’d see to it that he suffered a hundred times as much as he’d made her suffer. And then he and Vhagar would incinerate everyone. But knowing that wouldn’t make her feel better right now, either.
He knew Rhaenyra hugged Jace and Luke when they were upset, and Alicent hugged Helaena on the rare times when she’d allow it. But he’d already hugged Aemma when she arrived, and it clearly hadn’t helped her feel less pain.
He didn’t know what to say that could possibly make up for what she’d gone through.
As a child, she’d assured him all he had to do to comfort her was to be with her. But that couldn’t possibly be enough.
“They chained Goldenwing,” she said from behind the screen, startling him. “I was rarely allowed to see her. She wasn’t allowed to fly, except for the times I convinced them to let me meet with you. They barely fed her enough to keep her alive.” Her voice broke. “I could feel her anger and loneliness, her pain, her terror for me, and I could do nothing to soothe her.”
“Seven Hells! Aemma! You spoke nothing of any of this to me! Why? Did you not trust me? I could’ve helped you!” He wondered how close she’d come to never returning home.
“Because I know how you would’ve ‘helped.’” She came out from around the screen in breeches and a tunic, barefoot. “Much better, don’t you think?” she asked. She smiled slightly and sat beside him on the bed.
“He will suffer for what he’s done to you. They all will.” He couldn’t look at her. He’d failed her. He should’ve taken her on Vhagar before they shipped her off and went—somewhere. Anywhere.
She shook her head and put her hand over his. “Aemond— he’s not worth it. I just want to forget about the whole thing.”
He scoffed. “Forgetting what people have done to you is not as easy as you might think. I want to forget about this, too,” he said, touching his scarred face and looking at the candles on the wall. “It’s never going to happen.”
“Of course not, not for you,” she said gently. “You have to see it, endure it, every day. But I—I—”
She suddenly burst into tears. He turned to her and watched helplessly as she sobbed. After a moment, he hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder, unsure if she’d pull away from being touched like she had in the throne room. She turned to him, not meeting his eye as she sniffled. Then she did something completely unexpected. He froze as she crawled into his lap, wrapped her legs around him, leaned up against his chest and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Her arms locked around his back. It was like she was trying to attach herself to him, and it was... nice: her warmth, the weight of her in his lap, the texture of her soft braids pushing into his chin.
“For the love of the Seven, Aemond!" she sniffled. "Stop thinking and hold me.”
He cradled her head against him and ran his fingertips up and down her back the way Sylvi did to soothe him when he went to the brothel.
A servant brought in two trays of food, as Alicent promised, but Aemma's hold on him didn't lessen at all. She had no intention of moving over to the table to eat, and he had no intention of trying to make her.
He held her as she cried until she had no more tears to shed.
She finally leaned back, wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and met his gaze. “I missed you,” she said softly.
“Me too,” he said, looking at her face and wondering how anyone could hurt her.
“I have a confession to make,” she said. A corner of her mouth turned up. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but it feels wrong not to.” She shifted herself in his lap and tucked her legs tighter around his waist.
Gods, Aemma, he thought, horrified to feel himself starting to get hard. Stop wiggling before this gets awkward.
“You can tell me anything,” he managed to say.
“I thought of you. When he was taking me.”
“You thought of— What?”
Not helping!
“Please don't be angry. I didn't know how else to survive it,” she admitted softly. “It was unbearable. He disgusted me. So, in order to endure it, I closed my eyes and pretended he was you. That it was us. You know. I fantasized that we were—that it was us. That’s how I was able to get through it.”
He had no idea what to say.
Aemma’s cheeks grew red as she looked away and chuckled. “I can’t believe I just told you that. Are you angry?”
Aemond pulled her close again. “No. Of course not,” he whispered into her hair.
They sat like that, holding each other in the silent room like they were the last people in the world. After a while, she let go and leaned back, locking eyes with him. He inhaled sharply as she slowly lifted her finger to his face. She hadn't touched his scar since they were kids, at least not on purpose. Her fingertip slid back and forth on his forehead, feeling the texture of the uneven skin. She ran her finger along the sharp red line cutting down to where his eye had been. She traced her fingers over the eye patch, feeling the thin edges of it, the strap, the texture of the leather, her eyes never leaving his. Then her fingers trailed across his cheek as her thumb slid down the deepest part of the cut, the part that Luke had sliced open with the most force.
The memory slammed into his mind, and suddenly he was ten years old again.
There’s four of them
And only one of him
But now he’s their equal.
Because of Vhagar
They’re jealous
They’re FURIOUS
They don’t think he deserves Vhagar.
But Vhagar found him worthy.
Vhagar makes him powerful,
and he’s so very tired of being weak
He calls them bastards, because they are.
They’re coming at him
All of them
And he’s alone
Aemma was in bed with a stomachache
He didn’t know where Aegon and Helaena were, but they weren’t here
They knock him to the ground, but he fights them off, all of them, as adrenaline pumps through his body
He gets back up, but they're not done with him yet. He has no weapon to defend himself. He'll carry a dagger from now on, he decides. In the meantime, he picks up a rock
Luke pulls his own dagger, and the girls yell at him to drop it
And then there’s dirt in his eyes and nose and mouth
He can still smell it, taste it, even now
There's pain, pain like he's never felt in his life
A flash of light fills the vision in his left eye. He doesn't know it yet, but it's the last thing that eye will ever see.
The pain doesn’t stop
It never stops
Luke—
He didn't know it was possible to feel so much pain.
He's on the ground.
His eye Why can’t he open his eye
So much blood
Rivers of blood
Oceans of it
He can't see
His heart pounds like it will explode out of his chest
He hears yelling, and he thinks it might be coming from him.
then Vhagar, in his mind for the very first time
really, truly in his mind
Different from when he’d flown with her.
He has a dragon, he has THE dragon
and THE dragon is furious
He hears her roaring
She is his now
And he is hers
And she is very, very, angry
His hands, sticky with blood
Voices mix together
Vhagar vows to avenge him
He is scooped up into strong arms, surrounded by frantic voices calling for the Grand Maester
He already knows the Grand Maester can’t fix this.
No one can.
He wants to walk. He's not weak. He realizes for the first time that he's never been weak.
He can't tell where his rage ends and Vhagar's begins. He waits to see how his father will punish Luke
Needles poke his skin, then pull on it, then stick him again, trying to put his face back together, sticking him, pulling, sticking. Gods, will it ever end?
His father is furious
But not at Luke
At him.
AT HIM.
His own father doesn’t care
Doesn't care at all
His half-sister wants him punished
For speaking the truth
Him.
“They've taken his eye!” his mother yells. “He has been punished enough! You will not touch him!”
He’s never heard his mother yell like that before.
Vhagar, in his head, promises revenge
His father cares only that his bastard grandkids were insulted. He demands to know where Aemond heard such 'nonsense'. He doesn't care that his son is covered in blood.
Aegon is suddenly next to him. He stands up for him, leaving Viserys speechless when he says “We know. Everybody knows. Just look at them.”
He hears Rhaenyra respond, but doesn't pay attention to what she says. It doesn't matter.
His mother is outraged, at least. Now SHE has a dagger, and she intends to take Luke's eye.
It’s almost funny. He hasn't laughed in a long, long time, and somehow that makes it seem even funnier.
He wonders... does she want to punish Luke because he hurt him?
or because she's embarrassed that she now has a disfigured son?
And then she's crying
She's next to him
He leans into her and she puts an arm around him.
He wishes Aemma was here
“Aemond!”
He needs her.
“Aemond!”
Someone was shaking his shoulders.
“Where are you?”
Aemma’s panicked voice.
He blinked, snapping back to the present.
“Aemond? What’s happening? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”
He turned away from her large, frightened eyes. What was there to say? That he was wishing for the ten thousandth time that he’d seen Luke coming with his dagger, seen Jace grab the handful of dirt he’d thrown in his eyes, that he’d been able to move out of the way in time to avoid it?
She reached for his face and turned him back to face her. Her hands stayed on his jaws. Embarrassed, he reluctantly met her eyes. He’d never told her how the memories came back sometimes and took control of him. It had never happened in front of her before. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn't let her think him weak.
“I was just thinking, that’s all.”
“About what?”
To his great relief, the door opened, saving him from having to answer. Ser Arryk announced, “Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena. I know you requested privacy, but Prince Aegon insisted--"
"You're dismissed."
Aegon’s eyebrows raised at the sight of Aemma sitting in his lap with her legs wrapped around him. Aemond put his hands on her hips to help her up, but she clearly didn’t plan on moving anytime soon.
“Welcome home, sister,” Aegon said. “We missed you.” He grinned. “It’s good to see the two of you… reuniting. Actually, now that I think about it, I really don’t want to see that.”
Helaena stared at Aemma for a moment.
“You brought back the butterflies,” she said.