What started as simple infatuation became a strong, obsessive desire. Aegon Targaryen saw himself conflicted. His enemies daughter was all he wanted, and he would not be denied what he wants.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 sat upon the armchair near the large windows, biting her fingernails anxiously as she tried to ignore the sound of her husband groaning and whimpering in pain. Her gaze drifted to the gardens outside, a sea of vibrant green and colorful blossoms that seemed almost mocking in their serenity. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows that danced on the walls and floor.
After weeks of continuous rest to recover from the dragon fire burns, the maester had finally advised him to begin walking. Fortunately, his wounds were not that severe, but the burns covered large portions of his body, and he was still in deep pain. The scent of healing salves and poultices clung to the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the lavender oil Daella had servants place around the room to calm her nerves.
"No...no...I can't..." Aegon whimpered, his voice a weak whisper, as he struggled to balance against the cane. His face was pale and sweaty, his eyes filled with both pain and determination. The grand maester, stood beside him, his gnarled hands trembling slightly as he supported the king.
"You must, your grace." The grand maester spoke with gentle firmness, though his voice wavered slightly. He stumbled as Aegon lost his footing, and the king's body crumpled to the ground with a heart-wrenching cry of pain. The thud echoed through the room, a sound that seemed to slice through Daella's heart.
Daella flinched at the sound, her anxiety morphing into a sharp pang of fear. She immediately lifted herself from the chair with a sharp sigh, her movements quick and purposeful. "My husband needs his rest," she hissed, her voice tinged with desperation as she hurried to their side. She knelt beside Aegon, her hands trembling as she helped the grand maester lift him. Together, they managed to get him back to his feet, though he swayed unsteadily, his face contorted in agony.
"Daella... I'm sorry," Aegon whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes met hers, filled with a mixture of pain and helplessness. She felt a lump rise in her throat, her heart aching for him. He whimpered once more, glancing shakily at his wife as he leaned against her. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle. "No more...please..." he whispered weakly, his voice barely more than a breath. Desperation etched into his features, he nuzzled his face against hers, seeking comfort in her familiar scent and warmth.
"He must keep walking, your grace..." The grand maester mumbled, his eyes cast downwards to avoid Daella's fierce gaze. The old man's voice trembled slightly, knowing the queen consorts temper was not to be trifled with.
Daella's eyes blazed with protective fury. "Speak again, and I may have your foolish tongue removed," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. Her usually gentle demeanor was replaced by a fierce determination to shield her husband from further agony. "He only weakens the more you do this," she snapped, not bothering to conceal her contempt. With a firm but gentle grip, she led Aegon to the bed, her movements filled with purpose.
Aegon let out a heavy sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the bed, the soft mattress offering a reprieve from the unrelenting pain. His body trembled with exhaustion, and he whimpered softly, clinging to one of Daella's arms as though it were a lifeline. His fingers, though weak, gripped her arm with a desperation that spoke volumes.
