A Song of Promises

Chapter 1

His orgasm had done nothing to satisfy him.

Aemond had arrived at the feast far more tense than he'd been at court; body drawn taught, mood sour and ripe for confrontation. He'd known it would be a small hell to sit through dinner when there would still be warm seed seeping from Rhaenyra's cunt at the other end of the table and his expectations did not disappoint him.

He was forced to witness his uncle's adoration of her throughout the entire affair. They held hands and he stroked her fingers with his own, affectionate even when distracted. When she smiled at his words, luminescent in the purity of her joy, Daemon lifted that hand and kissed her palm tenderly, raising it to his cheek with eyes glittering in the candlelight from her contagious mirth.

What would he do with such love? To have her gaze at him with warmth instead of ambivalence, to be the one to coax that smile forward...well, he could scarcely begin to imagine it.

His uncle was the recipient of it all yet deserved none of her affections. Aemond's father had never blessed Rhaenyra's union to Daemon and they'd gone years without speaking after he had taken her to wife, leaving Viserys to wither away with only Alicent to comfort him.

The King had always known that Daemon was unworthy to be his daughter's husband, but such was fate. Just as when it came to Aegon - who could not be less worthy of the schemes his mother and grandsire toiled at ceaselessly to make him king - it was Aemond's lot in life to watch others be given what he rightly deserved.

The night wore him down quickly. Under normal circumstances, his young nephew's tithers wouldn't have elicited such a reaction, but he'd come to that table with only Rhaenyra on his mind and that left little room for such an effort as keeping the peace.

He'd reignited his estranged family's animosity once more after taunting his nephews for their bastard blood. His comments had caused the room to erupt in chaos, and beneath his skin his dragon purred from the satisfaction of seeing the happiness they had all enjoyed evaporate in place of hurt and rage.

After the Strongs had been contained, his uncle looked him up and down as though seeing him properly for the first time. The older man nodded softly as he walked closer to him, an air of casualness in his manner. It bordered on an invasion of his space, this nearness, forcing the hair at the base of his neck to raise. His dragon rustled in agitation at the presence of a threat.

"You know, nephew," his uncle said softly, "you've not been half as quiet as you'd like to think. Did you enjoy what you overheard earlier?"

Horror dawned on him. Suddenly Aemond was too hot beneath his tunic, a red flush seeping from his ears to his neck as though boiling water had been poured on him from behind. He cut his eye from his uncle to Rhaenyra, who stood near the far wall behind him with a look of worry on her beautiful face. There was no judgment there, no awareness of his deeds nor revulsion, only a wife and mother's worry.

"Ah," said Daemon, following his gaze with his own, "yes. She doesn't yet know. Tell me - as a husband, do you think I should tell her that the brother who insulted her children tonight made himself cum to the sound of her moans?"

Aemond released the breath he held, casting his eye down quickly before raising it again to meet his uncle once more. He gave him an imperceptible head-shake, unable to trust his voice to respond.

"Very well, then. Be sure to keep an ear out tonight," he told him, a cruel edge to his voice. "Earlier we were quick for time's sake, but I'll be sure to fuck her properly for you at my leisure. She'll cum so hard you'll almost be able to taste it - and won't that be a treat, boy?"