Desires Be Damned • Aemond Targaryen

Chapter Thirty

Aemond

The sheen of the dagger pointing directly over Dyaena's abdomen glinted with the golden candlight's reflection, and just as in the moment that a flame takes to flutter, he understood at once what this unnerving woman was insinuating. But it was an impossibility. She drank the tea. He ordered it to be delivered discreetly to her later that day before he had been sent out to find his useless brother in the city.

"We are not the gullible sort to fall for your blasphemous tales and demented tricks," Aemond spat, his eye narrowed at the woman as he strode over to Dyaena's side, who had remained utterly still, her downcast gaze empty as she receded within herself. The woman withdrew the dagger, looking rather annoyed as she stepped back to continue to prepare what was surely a concoction whose only power lay in its poison. "Let us leave, Dyaena. She cannot help us."

"No." Her protest was so small, he wasn't certain she had spoken at all until he looked down to see her looking back with wide, anxious eyes. "I cannot sort out her intuition, but I don't believe this to be a trick."

"But you drank the tea--"

"It was never brought to me. The servants were all but gone that day."

"That does not mean you are with child."

"No, it does not," she said while placing a hand over her belly. "But my blood for this moon being far too late is proof enough."

Aemond felt his usually guarded guise slack like a ship's sails that have suddenly lost their wind. He had thought them to have been careful, but even after taking all the precautions to prevent them from digging themselves into a ditch, the earth opened beneath them regardless to swallow them whole. This was all wrong. Nothing about their present made this ideal, so why did something bright stir in his chest at the thought of her belly swelling with their child? It could have been cause for celebration at court had their betrothal not been invalidated by her escape and fealty to her mother. Their wedding would have been expedited. It would have been perfect. They would have been happy.

But instead here they stood, presented with the dilemma of choosing between the life of a prince of the realm, his nephew that never answered for his crimes and slights, one whose death could mean repercussions at the grieving and vengeful hands of Rhaenyra and Daemon, and the budding life forming in the belly of the girl he had never meant to slip away, the embodiment of their future he had thought to be forever lost. But it wasn't as if King's Landing and the Red Keep were defenseless. Whatever retribution his whore of a sister and arrogant uncle could muster and send their way would be stamped out before even breaching their walls.

As he thought this over, all he could do was stare at where her hand rested while resisting the urge to reach out and cradle the spark they ignited together with her. A precious spark that he would be damned to allow be snuffed out in exchange for a boy who proved himself unremorseful. If it was selfish of him to want such a thing, the overpowering need to protect the delicate life within Dyaena overshadowed any guilt, even if Luke was her brother. This babe was a union of his flesh and blood just as much as hers. To him, the scale tipped steeply with zero ambiguity.

"All the more reason for us to leave."

"Aemond," Dyaena breathed while hurt stitched her brows, making it clear that for her, this wasn't a decision that had an obvious choice. He took a step to stand in front of her, putting himself between her and the woman capable of robbing his dreams that had unintentionally manifested from him, a theft he would prevent if he could.

"You can't have possibly come to a decision," he whispered through his growing impatience and frustration.

"I haven't," she muttered back, her eyes flicking all around her, anywhere but where his bore down. "But is it not obvious what must be done?"