Midnight Blades [Aemond Targaryen x female!reader]

Part 17

The journey from the temple back to the palace had been in silence, but you could practically hear his thoughts as if they were your own and he planned to fly straight to Rook's Rest. The door to the empty council room closed behind you and he faced the tapestry that had been draped over the table, various items marking positions as representations. He studied the image that had been updated daily from the reports sent from King's Landing but nothing indicated that there would be a battle at Rook's Rest.

"I understand you have spent your entire life protecting your family, I really do, but rushing across the Narrow Sea is not the answer," you said quietly as he stared a hole in the map. "Prophecies are fickle things, I wouldn't put much weighting on it. My mother received a prophecy that it would rain blood in a drought, and that most certainly has not come to pass in the years since she spoke it. A battle in Rook's Rest might take place two hundred years from now."

"It did not feel that way," Aemond murmured. "It felt urgent."

"If you must, send correspondence to Ser Criston and have him look into it. There is no reason to panic."

"I am not panicking."

"Of course, my mistake," you said with a shrug before wrapping your arms around his waist, missing the feel of his skin now that he was clothed again. "Word will come back soon enough and this worry will all be for nought. I know you miss your home-"

"You're my home."

You smiled into his tunic at the sincerity before looking up at him. "As I was saying," your words were lost to a yawn and Aemond pressed his finger to your lips.

"Tell me on the morrow when you are rested."

Aemond did not join you in bed after bathing, a single candle burned through the last hours of the night as he sat at the desk with parchment, quill and ink. You had fallen asleep before he could even dip the nib into the ink, not knowing what it was he sent out with the first ship at dawn.

Three Months Later

Word had arrived. Ser Criston Cole was to march on Rook's Rest with the army you had left in King's Landing. Aemond had been watching the pieces on the map move for the last three months, waiting for this moment. He had warned Cole that the coastal fort was to be monitored and you couldn't help thinking that it had been a mistake. It wouldn't have been the first time a prophecy came to fruition because of the fear of the prophecy itself.

Aemond stormed into the chambers with the parchment in his fist, and kicked his trunk open. "It's time."

You struggled to stand from the chair you had been reading in, the ache in your back paining you at the effort it took. An uncontrollable groan creaked out of you as braced your hands to your back and felt the need to visit the privy yet again. There was not much more growing your body could do, the babe would be born all too soon.

"Please, don't go," you asked as he pulled his riding gear out and an arsenal of weapons after. "I need you here."

"I'll be back before she enters the world," he said with a brief kiss to your forehead. "There is no match for Vhagar."

"That is your arrogance talking, do not let it be your downfall."

Aemond placed his palm atop your belly and felt the strong kicks that only added to your discomfort. "I will come home, my oath to the both of you."

You fought the urge to knock his hand away in anger but you let him indulge a while longer as you muttered, "Don't make a promise you can't keep."

He pulled a dagger from his hip and took your hand, flicking the blade quickly across your forearm, a bead of blood welling along the shallow cut. "Now I have no choice but to return so you may take your revenge."