The True and The Brave

𝔒𝔫𝔢: 𝔖𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢

[AN: So. Some things I want to talk about. There is going to be a year time skip for...reasons you will shortly understand, just to clear up any confusion that might arise. Also, the war in the stepstones is still going on, but Aemma as we all know, has been commanded to stay in King's Landing to fill her marital duty] 

Aemma thought that she did not deserve this happiness... that somehow she had inherited enough punishment to last her life, because she had failed in so many ways before. Had to become stronger to push away the feeling that she was never going to be good enough. That she was so deeply flawed, everyone she loved would leave. 

All these years she had been proven wrong. She would never be as happy as she was before, but Aemond had brought a piece of her that she thought was irredeemably lost. Only for Aemond would she lower her frozen fortress, baring her naked soul only for him. 

They were healing together. Both had to get used to their company. To stop the old habits that clung to them like a second skin. It was difficult, but they were the same side of the same coin. Each of them is like a mirror. When Aemma would look at herself, she would find Aemond staring back at her. 

It was this all-too-powerful realization that had plunged into her like a final twining— they were so much alike that the very fibers of their souls intermixed in pain, in healing, in happiness, in worry, in affection. In every way. 

Aemond played with a strand of her hair, "You're worried because Corlys hasn't sent word yet. Hasn't beckoned you out to help him. If he doesn't call you is because of your safety"

Aemma sucked on her lip, "It is not only that. What is he waiting for? Is he a fool for expecting an invitation to march on the triarchy? Or is he waiting to father strength only to be depleted by the new Dornish allies?"

Aemond's fingers stilled in her hair, "you heard what was said in the small council. The Dornish allies continue to move, but your grandfather is prevailing. He will prevail over them too. Trust that your uncle Vaemond is sending all the forces he can from Drfitmark". 

"Yet my grandfather hasn't claimed for help. I don't trust it."

"You trust nothing"

She met his eyes, "I trust you".

Aemond brushed a finger along her cheek. The rain turned heavy, the soft patter was the only thing that they could hear.

Aemma was resting on his chest. It was as if every single part of her body was made for him. The way they molded together like pieces in a puzzle. They were too alike. As similar as they were, both were too stubborn to recognize their flaws. Both were awfully prideful creatures that played off of false confidence, conviction, and ambition. 

Aemma lifted her head. She felt Aemond's eyes on her the whole time, felt his body go still with predatory focus, as she kissed the corner of his mouth, the curve of his lips, the other corner.

Soft, taunting kisses. Designed to see which one of them yielded first. 

Aemond did. 

With a sharp intake of breath, he gripped her hips, tugging her against him as he slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss until her knees threatened to buckle. His tongue brushed over hers lazily, deft strokes that told her precisely what he was capable of doing. 

She disconnected her lips from him, a small hiss was all that it took from her for Aemond to look at her worriedly, his eye connecting to her swollen belly. He then proceeded to chuckle lightly, gently tracing a finger on the swell of her stomach, "you little one, are giving your mother a rough time. A fighter like her, no wonder".