a/n: in honor of the new season of hotd, here's a sneak peek of the aemond fic that's been sitting in my drafts for a year lol! (fyi: i'm pretty sure i made changes to some canon details such as appearance, age, etc)
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Arsonist's Lullaby, chapter one
121 AC - Nesaenya, age 7
"Behold, the Pink Dread!"
Nesaenya Velaryon winced in distaste. She was no stranger to the unsavory pranks her brothers and uncle liked to play, and yet each time she bore witness to their senseless cruelty, annoyance spiked her veins.
The pig brought before Aemond Targaryen wore makeshift wings and when an unceremonious snort left it, a fit of laughter escaped the other princelings.
Nesaenya stood a few paces back from the commotion where she could only see the backs of her elder brothers and uncles. Two heads of brown and two heads of silver. Aemond was only the second youngest, but that didn't stop Aegon, Jace, and Luke from bullying him together.
Aegon's hands curled over his brother's shoulders as he lowered his mouth close to his ear.
"Be sure to mount her carefully. First flight's always rough." Punctuating his remark with a loud snort against Aemond's ear, Aegon reared back and laughed some more with Jace and Luke.
Nesaenya watched as humiliation came to stain the tips of Aemond's ears red as he clenched his fists at his sides. Maybe if she'd instead been able to see his face in that moment, and attended to the way the young prince's jaw hardened while vexation gleamed in his different-colored irises, brightening the lilac one and darkening the blue one... Maybe then it wouldn't have been a heavy heart that she felt, but unease.
"Come, sister." Luke's beaming face suddenly loomed before her, demanded her attention. "Let's not hog any more of Aemond's time alone with his new mount."
"You're a disgrace, Lucerys Velaryon." She narrowed her eyes at her brother who only grinned down at her before taking her hand and tugging her after him as they exited the Dragonpit alongside Jace and Aegon.
Besides each other, the three children of Princess Rhaenyra resembled each other in every physical sense from the silky brown curls that coiled from the crowns of their heads to their sharp eyebrows and button noses. All were privy to the doubts regarding their parentage due to their coloring which was anything but Valyrian. Each of them also knew that their mother's blood ran in their veins and therefore, Velaryon or not— bastards or not— they were still Targaryen.
"I meant what I said, Luke." The words left Nesaenya sternly as she pulled her hand out of his hold. When Luke turned to her, he was surprised to find that she'd planted her hands on her hips like she was berating a child.
