Burn me • Aemond Targaryen

It does matter

M

Chapter Fifteen~It does matter

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The castle was dark, but Rhaella could see Aemonds head of white hair just ahead of her.
"Aemond!" Rhaella called after him. "Aemond!" He shouted again when he ignored her, storming through the castle and heading for his chambers.

Aemonds slammed the door behind him, Rhaella managing to slip through before the wood hit the wall.

"Gods would you tell me what the matter is?!" She sighed, ignoring the tension and falling backward onto his bed. "You should've seen jace's face!" She laughed.

Aemond still didn't answer, he unwrapped his belt which kept his sword and flung it by the fire, before kicking off his boots and slumping into a chair. He stared at the flames, his own thoughts drifting away into a maze of insanity. He thought about cutting Lucerys, about gutting daemon. But the thought he lingered on was burning Rhaella in this very room.

He imagined her on her knees by him now, begging him to forgive her for dancing with the rouge prince. But he would not forgive her. He imagined himself gripping her by the head and forcing her down into the flames of the heath. Perhaps she would burn, or perhaps she carried the gift of the gods and would survive it.
Either way it would hurt.

And he wanted to hear her screaming.

"Will you answer me?" Rhaella's voice behind him dragged him from his daydream. She had placed a hand in his shoulder. "What clouds your thoughts."

Her touch made him flip in anger and anticipation. She set his heart ablaze and damned his head to her submission. He would not be able to remain angry with her.

Her voice was his heaven and her touch was his sin.

They were both tormented souls. Destined to burn and bleed together as one. Roping each other
into the others madness.

Rhaella had slowly started to lose it after Aegor's birth. 
She would never tell Aemond why she feared her own shadow when it concerned their children, she knew he would only add fuel to the fire burning away at her brain.

Aemond had grown bitter. He hated his brother for the way he acted, a drunken fool being trained like a dog to fetch a crown. While he was the one training as a knight and learning the history of the kingdom. He needed something else he could blame, so he let the memory of his eye being stolen by his nephew lead his war against himself.

But they had eachother and they loved one another. Truly. They did not often say it, usually at the peak of the hour they lay together, half way between a world of dreams and the real world of horror.

"Do you love me?" He said, it took her aback.

"What?" She replied, brow furrowed.

"Do you love me?" He said again stepping closer to her.

"Of course I love you, You are my husband, the father of my children." She said to him.

Aemond shook his head. "That is not what I asked." He told her. "I said do you love me, not do you love what I am."

Rhaella did love him. She loved his everything. His mind, his heart, his anger and his rare kindness.

Or did she hate him?

Because the line between the two wore very thin. Both of them making your stomach tighten at the sight of a person. Making your judgment clouded when you thought on them, your words filled with passion when you spoke about them.