Violent Delights (House of the Dragon- Aemond fanfic, Ewan Mitchell fanfic)

Chapter 38

Chap 38

Episode 8 part 4

"Have you not had enough wine to suffice you?" Aemond asked as Aegon stood beside him, throwing back another cup and immediately pouring himself more from the pitcher on the table.

Aegon only shook his head seemingly amused, "You do not drink enough."

"You drink more then a Braavosi Sealord."

"I drink just the right amount." He took another swig, though this one was much smaller like he was realizing at some point the wine would run out and he would have to ration it. "You usually do not care so much for my well being. What has got you so on edge?"

Aemond glanced behind his brother, across the room, "Do they honestly think they can erase ten years of wrongdoings and spite in a single eve? Even after Daemon admitted to trying to end my betrothal? Even after our half sister abandoned the very place she intends to rule? Even after they just murdered our own kin but a mere few hours ago? Even when the noose is so tight they expect us to break bread?"

Aegon shrugged, looking into his cup. Like the deep red wine held all the answers like a witch's crystal ball. It infuriated Aemond, how little Aegon cared. What he was unaware of was Aegon despised his life. He hated the responsibilities thrust upon him since birth. He hated that lords whispered about how he should be heir. He hated the marriage he was trapped in. He did not ask to be here, did not ask to be born a Prince, did not ask to be ignored and disliked by his own father. So if Rhaenyra called for his head when she ascended the throne let her have it. Perhaps he would find happiness in death, if death was anything like hours of drunken oblivion he would be well pleased. Aemond would not dispute any of this if Aegon confessed it. However, Aegon did not see past himself. It was not just his head Rhaenyra was likely to call for – it was them all. And that was something Aemond would not accept when fate came knocking. If not for himself, then for Helaena, for Daeron, for Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and Maegor.

Even now he could feel Daemon's eyes lingering on him, and it took everything in him to not turn his head and glare back. He was only released from the burning stare when Maela entered from behind Luke's chair and Daemon's eyes drifted to her. As did Aemond and Aegon's.

Maela stood in the open archway with her hands clasped in front of her. She appeared to take a moment to collect herself and she too avoided the Rogue Prince's eyes. Then she grabbed her skirts and took the couple of steps into the room and strode with confidence right past her sisters and their newly betrothed. She returned Baela and Rhaena's smiles before turning her attention on Aemond and approaching.

He was glad she entered from the opposite side of the room. It gave him time to collect himself as well.

Her gown was stunning, more so then anything he had ever seen her in before. Mentally he scoffed, how many times had he thought that? Only for her to outdo herself the next time she walked in wearing something new?

Her hair was pulled into a half up half down style, the top tied back into loose braids that wove together at the back of her head where they then became a fishtail braid - a nod to her Velaryon heritage. The rest of it fell in big curls down her back, and he had the urge to run his fingers down them, perhaps twirling one around his finger.

The sleeves of her dress exposed her bare shoulders, an inch thick black hem sagging on her upper arms. The material swooped inward across her chest and overlapped at the hollow of her throat before weaving around her neck to hold her gown up. Below the thick black hemline long velvet bell sleeves concealed the rest of her arms and matched the simple dress as it reached the floor. The style was basic but it was still cinched enough at the waist to reveal her figure. The cut of the gown may have stunned the others, but for Aemond, the color was what got him hot under the collar.