The Passion of a Thousand Suns | Aemond Targaryen

Fifteen: of duty

DRAGONSTONE 

127 AC

Rocks dug into the soles of Hira's feet, as harsh waves lapped against her legs. Slowly, she descended into the ocean, sinking, as the water dragged her into its cold embrace.

At the news of her banishment and failure to broker an arrangement with the crown, a letter was delivered to Dragonstone, penned in her mother's delicate hand. Disappointed was an understatement, what her mother felt was beyond that.

Do not fail me again.

The warmth of the mother who once held her through stormy nights and tended to her scraped knees was gone. All that remained was an Empress who demanded orders to be obeyed, duty to be upheld.

Daemon remained furious, choosing to shun his eldest daughter at every opportunity—a punishment for what he saw as her betrayal.

What came as a surprise was Rhaenyra's attempt to mend the rift. Declaring Hira and her people had a place in her castle, in their lives. That she would not be ignored, nor disrespected under her roof.

The bigger shock was her efforts to repair the relationship between father and daughter, even going so far as forcing and trapping them into a locked room to confront the problem. Though the effort greatly failed, resulting in a broken door, Hira appreciated the gesture.

While Daemon gave her nothing but cold indifference, her stepmother made a genuine effort to ensure her household was well looked after. There was an awkward tension at first, between the two princesses, but not beyond repair—far more than what could be said for Hira's relationship with Daemon at that moment.

During the first few moons in Dragonstone, she had avoided Rhaena and the Velaryon boys, keeping the Targaryens at arms length. Pride bruised by Viserys' treatment, she wanted nothing to do with them. Yet, it was her half-brothers who changed everything for the better, as they crept their way into her heart and made a place there.

Oftentimes, Hira found herself in the nursery, regaling tales to Viserys and Aegon, with Joffrey tucked into the crook of her arm, eyes wide with fascination, listening intently. The company of her half-brothers and Joffrey brought a certain warmth to her heart. Not enough to fill the void, or replace the shame and hurt—but enough for her to forget, even just for a minute.

Encouraged by Rhaenyra, her two eldest sons soon began to spend their time with Hira—unwillingly, at first. At the training yard, during sessions with their tutors, at the dinner table.

Excelling at High Valyrian, and prompted by Rhaenyra, Hira agreed to one lesson, which turned into two. Then five. She stopped counting after the tenth. Eventually, her exasperation with the Velaryon boys faded, replaced by tolerance—familiarity.

Despite the dreadful air that surrounded Dragonstone, Hira found herself content. Her half-brothers brought smiles to her face, and the ache in her heart was slowly beginning to heal.

Until she closed her eyes, and Aemond began to visit her in her dreams.

Countless letters had been sent to Aemond, but not a single one ever made its way back to her. The prince she had kissed never wrote back, no matter how many ravens she desperately sent to the capital. In the back of her mind, she feared Aemond had changed his mind, though everything he had done before suggested otherwise.

Mine, he commanded.

My Hira, he murmured like a man possessed.

She was certain his grandfather and mother had a hand in this. Alicent made her disapproval well known and Otto had her banished from court. Aemond wouldn't purposely ignore her letters, not unless someone kept them from him.