Aemond One Eyed Targaryen and Elaena Velaryon had always had a soft spot for one another from growing up in the halls of Kings Landing, to soaring through the skies of Westeros.
It isn't until Elaena shares a late night flight on dragonback with th...
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𝓔𝓵𝓪𝓮𝓷𝓪 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 The bitter cold of my bare body wakes me from my much-needed rest but when I roll over to reach for my husband I frown to myself at his absence.
In mere hours Aemond would be executing his grandfather
The week leading up to Otto Hightower's execution was packed full of distractions courtesy of myself and I'd been kicking myself every evening for it.
The city was in shambles and it had been all our fault. We were the dragon riders who brought ruin over their home it was the least we could do to offer our resources.
Baela and I had made it our mission to feed and see to the small folk, spending our afternoons among the people where Cregan and Aemond watched dutifully nearby. Though I frequently caught him smiling at me in the afternoon sun it never quite reached his dark lavender eye.
I knew the weight of the world was weighing on him and it gnawed at me that I couldn't do anything about it, only add to his stockpile of stress.
Creeping out of bed I bring the sheet up and around my bare body but just about jump out of my skin when I realize Aemond was mere feet away, staring into the fire as still as the stone he was carved from.
He's already dressed in his formal attire, his shoulders accentuated by the black plates of steel that were layered upon him like dragon scales. His long white blonde hair however remained untouched, shielding his face from me.
He must've been up for hours already.
"The handmaidens forgot to do your hair, my love," I whisper.
My soft voice makes him flinch but when he turns his chiseled face to look at me the tension he's holding on his shoulders falls away, a smile tugging at his lips when he notices I'm only covered by our bed sheet.
"You know I prefer someone else help me dress in the mornings,"
His tired voice crackles being the first time he's spoken all morning and a blush rises to my cheeks beneath the heat of his stare.
When I don't say anything his tall frame rises from his seat in front of the fire to approach me slowly.
Without shifting focus, he reaches for his discarded tunic draped over the chair.
As I drop the sheet to the floor his swirling violet eye slowly trails up my figure. Helping it over my head he hums to himself, enjoying the sight of me in his clothes.
Resting his palm affectionately at my waist he gives my forehead a small peck before finally answering."I'd like you to braid my hair today... if you're willing." His shy question reminds me of our time together when we were only children. He'd been too nervous to even ask for a dance then.
"Of course, my prince." I run my fingers through the front of his hair, pushing it out of his face to get a good look at him as he does me.
Once my skin brushes him, Aemond's eye flutters shut, his exhaustion evident.
