The Marriage Pact

Doubts

Prince Jacaerys wasn't the only one feeling the pressure.

It had been a long time since Aemond had allowed himself to be vulnerable with anyone. Letting his guard down with Visenya had felt good in the moment. But once she was no longer warm in his arms and distracting him with her sweet lips, a cold hollowness settled in his chest.

That night he could not sleep. The knowledge that Rhaenyra would soon be Queen weighed down on him, as suffocating as someone smothering his face with a pillow. He doubted whether he would ever sleep easy again. Rhaenyra was not just a potential threat to his own life, but that of everyone he cared for... with the possible exception of his bride.

Even assuming the best-case scenario -which was not something Aemond was inclined to do as he generally took a more pessimistic view of life- his entire world was about to change. Nothing was certain anymore.

Doubts assailed him throughout the night. How would Rhaenyra treat her half-brothers once she was crowned Queen? Would they be allowed to live? If so, would he be expected to bow and scrape before her and Daemon? Would he continue to reside at court? What would happen to his mother and grandsire? And could he really bring himself to bend the knee to Jace? Rhaenyra was one thing, but his nephew...

And then there was Visenya. He'd always presumed he'd easily be able to control himself when it came to her. Self-discipline was something he prided himself on. And yet, within a few hours of her arrival in King's Landing, his mind had become utterly fixated on the princess, constantly wondering where she was and what was going through her mind; craving her attention; seeking out opportunities to be with her, like inviting her to pray in the sept with his mother.

Twice now he'd allowed himself to appear weak before her: first due to intoxication, then due to his own blind panic. By thoughtlessly betraying his grandsire's plans for Aegon, he'd rendered it necessary to divulge all his fears to her. Visenya had accepted his reasons for conspiring to put Aegon on the throne in the heat of the moment, but would she still feel the same way in the cold light of day? He had not lied to her, but was the truth enough?

He'd lost more than just his eye that night in Driftmark. It was as if his nephews had cut out a piece of his heart too -as sickeningly trite as that sounded- leaving a dark, bitter void in its stead. But when he kissed Visenya, the darkness abated. Her warmth filled him up and he didn't feel so broken inside. He couldn't risk losing her, not now he knew how good it felt to be wanted by her.

He'd meant what he said: he would have done anything and everything to keep her safe should it have come to war. But did she really believe him? Did she trust that he would fight for her?

Perhaps there was a way he could prove it.

"Did you mean what you said the other day? Do you honestly think I could win tourneys?" Aemond asked the man who'd been like a second father to him.

Ser Cole smiled. He hadn't seen this side of Aemond for years; shy and uncertain. These days the "one-eyed prince" had fooled almost everyone into believing he truly was as self-assured as he appeared, even his own mother. Perhaps he wanted to spare her the heartbreak of knowing just how truly damaged and frightened her son was on the inside.

"I do, my prince. You have not been trained in the joust of course, but I could teach you if you wished. I have no doubt you would pick it up quickly, as you do everything else."

Aemond nodded slowly. "What about the melee?"

"The melee?" Cole raised his eyebrows. "You don't mean the one taking place this afternoon, do you?"

Aemond shrugged and looked at the ground, kicking a loose pebble with his boot. "What if I did? Do you think I could win?"

Cole pursed his lips, considering this carefully.