Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Fifty One

The room of the Painted Table had been cleared of people, leaving only Princess Rhaenys, Lord Corlys, Daemon and Aesira.

Daemon had Dark Sister pressed to her throat, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks. The tears were not for the pain she felt at the Valyrian Steel sword against her neck, but for everything else.

"Why are you defending a Kinslayer?" Daemon asked, his voice filled with anger and betrayal.

A Kinslayer. Aemond was a Kinslayer. Aesira was a Kinslayer. A cruel joke thrust on them by the Gods.

"I am not defending him," Aesira replied, sniffling as she did. "I am telling you what happened. I heard both Aemond and Luke lose control of their dragons. I watched as Arrax attacked Vhagar and then Vhagar went after him for it."

Daemon's expression was unreadable. "How could you let that happen? As his escort, you had one responsibility on your journey: to bring your charge back."

"I—I tried, but it all happened so fast. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late." Aesira saw it when she closed her eyes, Vhagar pursuing Arrax as Sakaris fell out of the sky. The sight would haunt her for as long she lived, she was sure of it.

Daemon lowered his sword, but the anger and hurt in his eyes remained. "You should have done more."

The room was silent save for the crackling of the fire and the silent sobs from Aesira.

He finally spoke, his attention on Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, "We should send an envoy to King's Landing and demand the head of the kinslayer and his dragon."

A whimper slipped out between Aesira's lips, and Daemon tightened his hold on Dark Sister, ready to put it right back against her throat. He stared at her intently, and she repeated, "It was the dragon's fault, not Aemond's."

Aemond would swear before all Seven of his Gods that it was his intention to kill Luke, and he would pray for forgiveness from his own dragon for taking her up there into that storm. But until Aesira could decide how she felt about what he'd done, until she could settle the conflict within her, she would fight to keep Aemond alive.

Even if in the end, she decided he couldn't be forgiven. If death was in Aemond's near future, she would rather it be by her hand. She swore to love him unconditionally, even if he forfeited his life.

"Your opinions are irrelevant. You are incapable of putting the blame where it belongs." Daemon spat.

Princess Rhaenys observed her then, narrowing her eyes as she read something on Aesira's face. Aesira glanced away but the princess had already seen what she wanted. She cursed under her breath. "She loves him. The marriage isn't a sham then, it was Aesira's choice."

No, it wasn't a sham. Aesira's marriage to Aemond was not a mere show, it was not something she was forced into or coerced into. Over the course of seven long years, Aesira and Aemond had grown close, developing a deep bond that had eventually turned into something more. She was fully aware of the setbacks and challenges that came with marrying Aemond, and though the world was in dire circumstances largely due to his actions, she would not—could not—give up their love.

Lord Corlys looked at Aesira with disdain. "You're a fool, girl. Can't you see that he used you? That he only married you to gain a foothold here?"

"What are the odds that he feels the same way?" Princess Rhaenys asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was lethal calm to Daemon's question, a promise of rage, and she knew that hiding the information would spare her now, but would send her straight to execution later when it was revealed. So she lowered her gaze and admitted, "Aemond loves me. He spent the last few days tending to me and my injury."