Tales Of The Heart [Aemond Targaryen]

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 If the thought of you in my head is a sin,
Know that I am drowning in sin every night.
〰

Aiday's complaints began as the sun ascended above the horizon. I attempted to divert her attention, albeit temporarily, but she always circled back to the pressing matter—where was I last night?

Her fingers wove through my hair as she spoke, the words blending into an indistinct buzz against the backdrop of my thoughts, which were fixed on a singular, enchanting memory—the first kiss shared with Aemond.

Closing my eyes, I relived that moment in my mind's eye. The moon, a silent witness to our clandestine meeting, bathed the courtyard in a silver hue. Aemond's touch, gentle yet firm, rested on my cheek, his fingers leaving a lingering sensation on my skin like a gentle caress.

My reverie was interrupted by a deliberate tug of my hair, likely intentional as Aiday noticed my distraction. Glancing at my reflection, I smoothed out the wrinkles on my dress, trying to compose myself.

My fingertips traced the outline of my lips, as though trying to capture the essence of that stolen moment.

The courtyard, the moon, and Aemond's presence blended, creating a fabric woven with the threads of a growing connection.

A subtle smile graced my lips as I savored the sweetness of that stolen kiss. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I turned my head down so that Aiday wouldn’t see my flushed expression.

A faint smile played on my lips, though I quickly lowered my gaze to hide the flush on my cheeks from Aiday's prying eyes.

A knock at the door broke the spell. My father entered, his demeanor composed but his eyes sharp as they fell on me. "Why is your face flushed?" he questioned, his tone tinged with suspicion.

Aiday reached for my face, echoing his concern. "Your face is warm. Are you feeling unwell?"

"I'm feel alright," I replied, gently removing her hands.

My father's gaze lingered on me before dismissing Aiday. As she left, he fixed me with a stern look. “You know I’ll eventually tell her this conversation. Why bother sending her out at all?”

He settled onto the plush couch opposite me, his hands folding tightly before him. "Yesterday's conversation wasn't clear enough, it seems. I don't want you near my nephew," he stated firmly, his tone carrying a weightier authority than before.

I stood my ground, facing him directly. "Since your arrival, you've been fixated more on Aemond then on me." I pointed.

"Why are you here if you haven't even asked how I'm doing?" Emotions churned within me, unfamiliar and turbulent. "Ask me how it felt to witness a dream where I set someone ablaze. Ask me how I felt about nearly causing mass destruction over a lost talisman you never bothered to mention."

My voice rose, each word a sharp edge in the air. Instead of addressing my concerns or offering solace, he turned his gaze away, a gesture that snapped something inside me.

"Ask me how I felt when you left me to be picked and eaten by your dragon," I demanded, my voice cracking with emotion. "Ask me about the whispers behind my back, calling me your illegitimate child!"