The Snow Princess - Aemond Targaryen

Thirty Five

Four nights passed since Lucerys Velaryon died. And Aemond kept waking up earlier than usual. It was not really waking up, because he barely slept at all for the past nights.

He remembered it all to well. He remembered Lucerys' scream, and he remembered how his cloak looked as the sea engulfed it with it's waves. He remember his heart threatening to leap from his chest. And he remembered when he landed back home.

He had tossed and turned all night long, and he wondered if Alyarra had slept at all. He hoped she did, he would hate to disturb her rest. He turned to look at her as she slept. The morning sun shined upon her skin, and even asleep she looked like a goddess. His eye traced her figure, and inspected her face as she took small breaths in her dreams.

Her hair was sprawled across her pillow, and small strands laid upon Aemond's bare chest. He wanted to stay here forever, where his sins couldn't reach him.

His thumb moved to swipe over the rosy cheek of his sleeping wife. He watched her, for a few minutes he enjoyed her. Sometimes he wondered why the Seven Gods handed him Alyarra Stark, and sometimes he wondered if perhaps there was an Eighth god of luck. Because he didn't deserve her.

Why did she love him? How did she love him? He was an unloveable man. Aemond sighed and ran one finger over a bruise that extended through her neck. He didn't really remember leaving it, though he did remember how he took her that night. And for the last couple of nights. Perhaps he had gone too far. He maimed her, yet she didn't complain. He wondered why.

Every single thing he touched, became sick with sadness. Everything he touched reduced to ashes. Was he really just an unloveable beast? He gulped and stood from their bed. He planted a soft kiss on her head and covered her body with the duvet.

He solemnly got ready for his day, and without much stalling, left his marital chambers. As always, he would visit his son's nursery first thing in the morning. When he entered, the wet nurses would scramble to a corner, seemingly scared of him.

He didn't really care for them, for he only cared what his family thought of him. But it was curious to him, how scared they looked. It almost seemed like they expected him to kill them or something. "You may go." He hummed quietly as he moved to Baelon's craddle.

Aemond heard the door shut behind him as he looked down at his sleeping baby son. He was the most precious thing he had ever laid his cursed eye upon, along with his wife. Aemond took a breath as he looked down at Baelon, and so he wondered once more what had he done to deserve this blessing?

He ever so gently moved to grab Baelon off his craddle slowly. Cuddling the babe close to his chest as he hummed a tune he remembered from when he was a child. A tune his mother would sing to him all of those years ago. The baby boy slowly opened his eyes and fussed for a minute, but then he brought his fingers to his mouth and looked up at his father.

Aemond smiled when he noticed a small smile happen upon Baelon's face, and it made him proud that at least something he had gotten right. After all, everything had been going wrong for him the past few days.

Sometimes Aemond could not believe that he had a son, a child. He created something precious, something perfect. How can such a monster create such an angel? His stomach twisted, and he gulped. Baelon was his son, his everything.

"You're the most adorable boy to ever exist." Aemond was uncharacteristically speaking to his son in the warmest tone the prince had ever spoken in. "I can not wait to take you flying on Vhagar. I would take you today, but I reckon your mother would not like me to." Aemond chuckled.