Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 10

As Aenyra made her way down the dimly lit corridor toward her chambers, the echo of her own footsteps barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere—caught in the storm behind Aemond's eye.

The way he looked at me...

There had been no hatred in his gaze. No blame. Only confusion. Pain. A glimmer of betrayal that cut deeper than any blade could.

She paused outside her door, her hand hovering over the handle. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart thundering.

I have to see him.

Without a second thought, Aenyra turned on her heel and slipped silently through the hallways. The keep was quiet now—still reeling from the violence, the shouting, the blood. She moved quickly but cautiously, checking around each corner. When the coast was clear, she moved toward the wing where the Hightower children slept.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she eased Aemond's door open and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

Aemond's head turned sharply toward the sound, the muscles in his jaw tightening—until he saw her.

"Aenyra?" His voice was hoarse, weary. "What are you doing here?"

Without a word, she rushed to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, her head pressing against his chest. Her body trembled against his.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm so—so sorry this happened to you."

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, the emotion she'd bottled up finally breaking loose. It felt like her pain, not just his—like the wound carved into Aemond had somehow been etched into her too.

Aemond stood frozen for a moment, stunned by her embrace, before his arms came around her, slow and hesitant at first—then tighter. Firmer. Like he needed her closeness to stay grounded.

They stayed that way for a long moment. Wrapped in silence. In something raw and fragile.

Eventually, Aenyra leaned back, her hands coming to his face. She reached for his cheek, but he flinched and turned his head away, shame flickering across his features.

"Don't turn from me," she whispered, gently guiding his chin back toward her.

His eye flickered up to meet hers. "I am hideous," he said, voice barely audible, thick with anguish.

Aenyra's heart cracked.

"Aemond," she whispered again, her voice soft and trembling.

She tilted her head slightly and cradled his face between both her palms. Slowly, tenderly, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the bandaged skin above his missing eye. Her lips lingered there, reverent and full of quiet pain.

Aemond went still in her grasp. His eye fluttered shut, and he exhaled a shaky breath as though the last bit of resistance inside him had finally dissolved.

He leaned into her touch, resting his forehead lightly against hers. "We're leaving in the morning," he murmured, his voice nearly lost to the silence of the room.

Aenyra's breath hitched. "So soon?"

He nodded faintly. "Mother thinks it's best... after everything."

Of course she does.

Aenyra's gaze searched his. Crimson was already blooming across her cheeks, and when she saw the matching flush rise up his neck, her heart gave a painful thud.

Aemond reached for her again, slower this time, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. He leaned in just slightly, then paused—uncertain. His breath hitched as he hovered a breath away from her lips, his eye flicking from her mouth to her gaze, searching for something—permission, maybe... courage.