Desires Be Damned • Aemond Targaryen

Chapter Twenty-Two

Aemond

The Faith of the Seven had been taught to Aemond by septons just as diligently as other areas of academia were taught to him by maesters. The Faith claimed that the afterlife was a sweet surcease, a voyage to a far better land where men and women may make merry and love and feast until the end of days in the golden hall of the Father.

It was to be an eternal paradise, but for only those deserving. Though Aemond followed the Faith by his mother's example, he had misgivings that he would ever see this grand hall once he met his inevitable demise, but from where he peacefully lay in this moment, he no longer cared, for any descriptions given paled in comparison to what was before him.

The rich amber light of dawn had awoken him as it normally did every morning, but as sleep fought to maintain its grip on him, there were several notable differences that brought him lucidity and raised the corners of his mouth in a small smile as he looked around his chambers from his bed. Clothing of black and red lay scattered on the floor or hanged carelessly over chairs and benches, several tables lay overturned, one of his drapes overhanging the entrance to his terrace had been torn asunder, and two empty goblets along with a flagon still rested on a large ornate rug next to the hearth.

Looking down at his body tangled within his bed sheets, he could see some of the markings from teeth and nails darkening to damning shades of purple and red on his arms and chest. With a slight fidget, even in his groggy state, it wasn't hard to picture that his back wasn't in a much better state as the fabric rubbed against his marred skin. However, these observations weren't the ones that made him brush aside the supposed paradise one could be granted after death, but rather it was the image of heaven itself wrapped in his arm, still fast asleep on his bare chest.

Never before had he seen anything more beautiful.

Their naked flesh was intimately interwoven, the heat from their bodies radiating and warming one another in a way that was most comforting to him. Dyaena's curls splayed behind her over his arm and onto the bed, though a few strands had fallen over her face and danced slightly with her every exhale. Her small delicate hand rested next to her over his heart, the very hand whose nails were responsible for his minute pain while being given overabundant pleasure. It was a wonder his hair was still attached to his head after all the times those fingers had weaved into it and pulled, although, now that he recalled, he had been no better with her.

For a few tempting moments, Aemond pondered whether or not he should close his eye and drift peacefully back to sleep, to allow himself a few more hours of serene rest within the tender embrace of his lovely betrothed. An embrace that he nearly robbed himself of forever because he was too weak to quell the flood of rage that ravaged and demolished the walls of his temperament at dinner. He still felt bitter contempt burning and blackening his heart should he allow himself to remember what he wished he could forget, what he wished could be undone, but it was that contempt that could now be quickly snuffed out like two fingers pinching the lit wick of a candle. Now, he could look to the girl whose presence reminded him of who he once was and what they could become together, the girl whose warmth melted his cold heart, the girl he well knew he didn't deserve yet had--he highly suspected--nearly let slip an admittance that had only been the product of his dizziest daydreams before. Nevermore would he allow his rage to overpower him. Nevermore would he let his desires of vengeance cloud his judgement. He would try everyday with every breath to be the man worthy of hearing those three words leave her mouth, for now that he had all the reason he needed for amity nestled in his arm, Aemond simply could not stomach waking in his bed cold and alone again, crippled with regret.

This is not to be our last morning together, he reminded himself, and she must return to her chambers before her servants enter. We are not yet wed, but when we are, then can we spend all day like this. The urge to rise to ready himself for the day was weak, but its logic prevailed, so with that thought, Aemond leaned his head down to place a kiss on top of hers while stroking his hand up and down her arm.