The Rogue Daughter (House of the Dragon - Aemond Targaryen Story)

An End

AEMOND

There had been a time when Aemond had wanted nothing more than to meet his infamous uncle. For the majority of his formative years, the Rogue Prince had lied in wait across the narrow sea in Pentos with his young Velaryon wife.

When Lady Laena had died and they'd all descended upon Driftmark for her funeral, Aemond had thought he'd finally have the chance to impress the uncle he'd grown up hearing stories about. Daemon was more revered and feared in court than the king of the Seven Kingdoms.

Immediately after claiming Vhagar, when his head a body were still soaring above the clouds, Aemond had actually thought his uncle would air an interest in his feat or at least acknowledge it. After all, Aemond was much younger than Daemon was when he'd claimed Caraxes as his mount. To claim a dragon at ten and two without major injury or burns, especially one in the wild instead of tucked away in the Dragon Keep...it was impressive. But his victory had been diminished by the loss of his eye and not once had his uncle ever mentioned anything about Vhagar.

Now, as Aemond tried to seem as if he weren't straining to hear the argument on the other side of the oak door to his grandsire's solar, he held no illusions that his uncle would emerge and mention Aemond's obvious skill with a sword. People often whispered that Aemond fought like Daemon, but Aemond had never actually seen his uncle do anything more than slice through Vaemond Velaryon.

Aemond very much doubted the ongoing argument had much to do with the fact he'd been aiming his sword at Daemon's daughter. It was the simple matter of his very existence that forever turned his uncle from any sort of familial affection. Aemond was a body between Daemon and the Iron Throne. There was nothing more criminal than that in Daemon's mind, or so Aemond's grandsire had told him after the incident at Driftmark. Otto Hightower was many things, but he wasn't often a poor judge of character, and Aemond was inclined to believe his dismal assessment of Daemon.

The guards stationed at the far end of the hall were smart enough not to accuse Aemond of trying to eavesdrop on the Hand of the King's affairs, but he felt their eyes on his back. Just barely, Aemond swore he heard his name, or rather the one-eyed prince as his uncle always referred to him, but it was too muffled to be sure.

Just as Aemond was about to break protocol and enter without knocking or invitation, the door was yanked open from the inside. Scrambling to the opposite wall, Aemond picked at his nails and gave his uncle a bored look, but the attempt at indifference soured when his uncle took a long stride forward and pinned him to the wall.

Daemon's forearm pressed into Aemond's throat and for the first time in his entire fifteen years, his uncle fully acknowledged him. The experience was chilling and left him unable to think beyond the airway being slowly crushed.

Speaking low and close to his ear, Daemon made a horrible hissing sound. "You think you're untouchable because you ride the largest dragon. They..." his eyes flicked to the startled faces of his mother and grandsire and Aemond followed. His mother was horrified but his grandsire gave no indication that anything was amiss. "They think you untouchable because you're a prince, but from one prince to another, I assure you that you're not."

It was a threat if he'd ever heard one and an underserved one at that. He could have leaped up after she'd bested him and plunged his sword through Rhae's heart or at the very least taken a limb, but she was fully intact and more than fine last he saw. And yet, Daemon seemed to be taking something very personal.

Daemon pulled away so quickly that he almost elbowed Aemond's mother in the face as she rushed forward to interfere, but he simply stepped around her and stalked off down the hall.