After enduring a loveless marriage for many years, the Rogue Prince was believed to be incapable of fathering a child with his Bronze Bitch. However, a miraculous event shatters this notion with the birth of Vhaela Targaryen. Raised in the confines...
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Chapter Sixty-One: The Secret Council
Vhaela Targaryen
Aemond pulls my hand down the hallway in quick strides. Our heavy synchronized steps echo throughout the hall and causes all attention to be drawn our way. Servants stop and bow as well as other lords and ladies that wander about.
We paid no mind as we stride down to the throne room where we knew a council meeting was being held. I feel Aemond's hand tighten in my own from his rage. Despite Aegon not showing much interest in ruling, my husband was quite the opposite.
So, when we heard there was a small council meeting held Aemond dragged me out of our chamber in a hurry to attend. From the furry in his expression, I could tell he did not like being summoned to attend. Which was extremely reasonable.
Out of all those people in the room they would be relying on us the most.
Or rather our dragons.
My thoughts are pulled from me as Aemond tugs me a little closer to his side. He moves my hand up to grip the inside of his arm. Our shoulders now brush up against each other with every step we take. As we approach the large doors of the throne room two guards instantly move to open them for us.
We quickly move down that set of stairs and our movement to be halted. Aemond stands in the empty throne room and looks upon the iron throne. I turn my head his way as I watch him look over every little detail of the throne.
The anger from his expression slowly turns into an inquisitive one. A dangerous one with the chair he was staring at. He leans into me while I watch as a sly smirk begins to make its way onto his lips. Aemond's gaze then turns to me.
I try to keep my face passive but as his smirk widens it only causes a smile to appear on my own. My shoulder nudges against his which causes him to stumble a few steps. A sharp laugh emits through the large room.
Aemond immediately moves back and wraps his arm around my shoulder pulling me into him.
He then asks me, "Have you ever imagined yourself on the throne?"
The smile on my face disappears as I turn to look back at the throne. It was hard to imagine it. There would be no reason I would ever sit in it. Or would ever want to. If that responsibility fell upon me that would only mean everyone else was dead.
Aegon. Maelor. Aemond.
So, no I hadn't imagined it. I didn't want to.
"I've imagined us up there." He then says.
My breath begins to pick up as I feel his lips come near the side of my head. I stare at the throne ahead of us. The uncomfortable seat of power that we were fighting a war over. Aemond then begins to move behind me and presses his front against my back.
