Midnight Blades [Aemond Targaryen x female!reader]

Part 2

The throne room was abuzz with father's men talking over one another when you arrived, the herald announcing your entrance and silencing the cacophony for a moment. You strolled right up to the Oaken Throne, its roots forever entombed in the stone while the stump was carved by the finest craftsmen who also built the palace that surrounded it.

"What is the cause for so much excitement, your grace?"

"My darling child, thank the stars you are here." The King rubbed his forehead to ease the pain that often flared when difficult decisions needed to be made. "News arrived from Westeros, Viserys is dead and his council has crowned Aegon as his successor."

"That snivelling worm!" Your fingers curled around the pommel of the sword hanging from your hip. "And what of Rhaenyra? Surely she will not take the treachery lying down."

"You know as well as I do, she does not have the support to take her seat on the Iron Throne." The King drummed his fingers over the arm of his throne and watched you pace before him.

"The skies must be nearly black with ravens in Westeros." You stopped pacing to look at the tapestry map of the Known World hung across the wall, narrowing your eyes at the embroidered lettering locating King's Landing. "Every man and his dog will be out trying to gather support for one side or another."

The doors to the throne room were thrown open and the heralder looked pale as he announced the new arrival. "Prince Aemond, requesting to seek an audience with the King of Scythe."

"Speaking of dog," you muttered at the same time as Aemond stepped into the doorway, pushing past the heralder as he spoke, "Request suggests I will take no for an answer."

The faded pink scar on your chest burned as he scanned the cavernous room and you noticed his step falter at your sight only because you knew how graceful his feet could carry him. More than once, your hands had found themselves between your legs on the nights spent alone, his name on your lips as you chased down a release that couldn't come close to matching what he had given you.

"You dare to waltz in here and demand an audience with the King." It didn't matter that the king's guards were stationed between Aemond and your father, you drew Black Heart from her scabbard and crossed the room. "I should have your tongue for the insult."

The curve of his lips left a perpetual smirk on his smug face but the press of your sword to his chest had it widening by the second. "That would be an enormous waste, princess. I think you would rather like what my tongue can do."

His words were only for you to hear and you felt them all the way down to your toes that curled in your boots before Ser Negan reached your side and placed a calm hand on your sword arm. "The prince is here as messenger, not warrior. Isn't that right, Kinslayer?"

Kinslayer . That was a new title or you would have heard of it already, but which of his blood relatives had he killed, you wondered.

Reluctantly, you sheathed Black Heart and took a breath as you regained your composer that had been misinterpreted as anger and not what it truly was, desire. As your sword slid home, you swore it would not be the next addition to the Iron Throne, nor would your fathers.

Aemond finally looked away from you as you turned your back on him, trusting Ser Negan to protect it as you walked back to your father's side. No one moved until you reached the last step and were securely placed behind three rows of king's guards.

"I come with a proposal," Aemond spoke to the King, his voice calm and confident despite standing in the heart of his enemy's territory. "To unite our people and end the conflict that has kept us divided."