The Prince and His Flower

T H I R T Y - O N E

"Why are we outside your chambers?" Aemma asked, but Aemond ignored her and simply pushed the door open. Aemma followed him in and stopped as he tore a blanket off of a portrait.

"I had this made for you." He said as he stepped back. Aemma's hands flew to her mouth in shock. It was a painting of her mother and father, surrounded by Aemma holding Joffrey, Luke, Jace, Rhaenyra, and her father holding little Aegon. Her father looked older than in the painting Rhaenys gifted her, his face looking as it did before he died.

Aemma's emotions overwhelmed her, seeing her father's face, and tears quickly made their way down her cheeks. Aemma approached the painting, stroking her father's face.

"Aemond..." Aemma turned to look at Aemond, her face wet with tears. 

"I remember when we were walking the beach, you wished for nothing more than your family safe and happy. I know it may not be what you had in mind but-" Aemond's words were lost in his throat as Aemma wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"It's perfect." Aemma sniffled as she wiped away her tears. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not ruining the mood."

"You could never." Aemond wiped away her tears with his thumb and took her hands in his.

"You truly had someone paint my entire family?" Aemma looked back at the painting, wondering how it was even possible. She suddenly felt terrible about her argument with Aemond; he had hated her brothers, yet he had someone paint them so that Aemma could have a lovely nameday present.

"Yes, and then I had him run around the Keep after you so that he may study your face." Aemond smiled at his own handiwork; it was rather easy, and Aemma was always running about.

"This is... thank you." Aemma hugged Aemond once more. 

"I'm glad you like it," Aemond said. He frowned when Aemma pulled away, hoping she would stay in his embrace a little while longer.

"Can I ask for something?" Aemma asked, biting her lip.

"Someone is greedy." Aemond chuckled. "Anything."

"Can I see it?" Aemma asked, looking at Aemond's eyepatch that seemed to be glued to his face. All traces of warmth disappeared from Aemond's face, stepping back from Aemma. 

"No." His voice was soft, and his hand automatically touched the leather that covered his grotesque wound. He was hideous with the scar, but even more so when it was uncovered. He had spent years grooming himself to perfection so that he may look as princely and regal as possible; his hair was never out of place, he wore pristine clothes, wielded the perfect sword, anything to take the attention away from his eye.

"Please?" Aemma closed the distance between them, raising her hand and delicately tracing his scar. If her shaking hand was bothering Aemond, he said nothing about it. "Why do you always keep it covered?"

"Why do you always keep your hands covered?" Aemond glanced at the gloved hand that was caressing his face, wishing she would rid herself of the damn things so he could tell her how beautiful she was, even with the scars.

"Because they are hideous and bring me nothing but great sorrow and grief every time I look at them," Aemma answered truthfully. "I hate them."

"Nothing on you is hideous; you could cut off your hair and wear a dirty sack and I would still deem you the most beautiful thing to ever walk this planet." Aemond raised his hand and placed it atop Aemma's, rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

"And what do you think I feel about you?" Aemma's thumb lightly touched the eyepatch, her eyes searching Aemond's face for approval. Aemond said nothing as he grabbed Aemma's arm and slowly began peeling off her gloves. 

"Let me see you; all of you," Aemond said after Aemma grabbed his wrist to stop him. She brought her hand back to the eyepatch and ever so slowly began to pull it away from his face. It gave way just as her glove did, and Aemond resisted the urge to bring his hand up and cover it.

Aemma tried to avoid looking at her hands as she traced Aemond's scar with her finger, stopping short of the sapphire he had put in place of an eye. It was beautiful and very fitting. Aemond watched her face, waiting for any indication of disgust, but Aemma's face was blank, lost in thought as she touched his skin.

"It's beautiful," Aemma concluded, tipping Aemond's face down toward hers and pressing the lightest of kisses on his scar. Aemond's breath hitched in his throat at the gesture. He had many words to describe his wound; beautiful was not one of them, but if Aemma deemed it so, it must be true.

Aemond pulled away and took Aemma's hands in his, examining the burned skin. He ran his thumbs over the backs of her hand, humming to himself as he took in the feeling. Aemond brought Aemma's hands to his face, rubbing them against his jaw. It was a most appreciated feeling, one that Aemond would remember forever. He pulled her hands to his lips, kissing them, his eye never leaving Aemma's.

"I have never seen something so beautiful," Aemond said, placing Aemma's hands back on his face. Aemma frowned, wondering how Aemond could see her hands as beautiful when all she ever saw were the hands that failed to save her father. 

"They are nothing but a reminder of my failures." Aemma's voice was quiet, her mind plagued by the memories of how she received her scars.

"You have not failed." Aemond kissed Aemma's hands once more. "You were a child, as was I."

"I hate looking at them." Aemma's voice broke as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Then look at me." Aemond cupped Aemma's face in his hands, his thumb brushing away tears Aemma did not know had fallen. "Just look at me."

Aemma looked up at Aemond, who gazed down at her with much love and concern it made her want to marry him on the spot. Aemma's hands moved from his face to neck, pulling him to her. She pushed herself to the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It was a soft, sweet kiss; one that Aemond would never let slip from his mind. Aemma's lips were soft and gentle, her hands pulling him closer to her. Aemond pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, their breathing the only sound in the room. 

"Remember our kiss? On Driftmark?" Aemma asked, frowning as Aemond chuckled. "Why are you laughing?"

"How could I ever have forgotten it? It was the best- second best night of my life." Aemond said, pressing a kiss to Aemma's forehead. 

"This better be the first." Aemma smiled.

"Nothing will ever come close to it." Aemond tucked a lock of hair behind Aemma's ear.

"What about our wedding? And our wedding night?" Aemma raised her eyebrows suggestively. Aemond swallowed, glad he was not the first one to bring it up.

"It will be the most amazing night... when it happens." Aemond ignored the feeling of his skin flushing, and he cleared his throat.

"Do you think of it often?" Aemma asked, stepping closer to Aemond and placing her hands on his chest.

"Every night." Aemond leaned down, his face inches away from Aemma's, his hands resting on her hips. 

"What do you think of?" Aemma asked, running her hands up and down his chest. When Aemond didn't respond, Aemma brought her lips to his ear. "Would you show me?"

"If I were to show you, we would miss the rest of your celebrations." Aemond groaned as Aemma pouted. "I promise you; on our wedding night, I will show you everything." Aemond dipped his head down and kissed Aemma once more, savoring the feeling, the taste, before pulling away.

"Come, we should not keep everyone waiting." Aemond turned to leave, pulling Aemma behind him. 

"Aemond?" Aemma asked. Aemond paused and turned his head to look at Aemma. "Thank you."