The Flames We Bear

Chapter 13 - Aemond

The door to our chambers clicked shut behind me as I stepped into the quiet corridor, the weight of the morning's events pressing against my chest. I kept my steps steady, each one measured, as if I could maintain control over everything simply by walking in a straight line. My jaw clenched tightly, the taste of restraint bitter on my tongue.

It wasn't until I reached my own chambers that I finally allowed myself to breathe. I leaned against the closed door, my head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment. The silence of the room, devoid of the tension that clung to the air in Visenya's presence, was almost suffocating. But the feeling of vulnerability... that was far worse.

I walked over to the window, my fingers unconsciously moving to adjust the leather strap of my eyepatch, securing it as if it could anchor me. The thought of the night, of her, lingered like a shadow in the back of my mind. The way Visenya had looked at me, with uncertainty and confusion, the small moments where her guard had slipped. I couldn't shake it, nor could I shake the irrational anger that simmered underneath. Anger at her, at this arrangement, and—gods help me—at myself.

The blood on the sheets was necessary. Without it, the whispers would spread like wildfire, and this fragile union would unravel before it could serve its purpose. I had no desire to consummate our marriage. Not yet. Not like this.

My hand gripped the edge of the windowsill as I stared out at the city below. A part of me—one I buried deep—felt a hint of discomfort at the idea of bedding her. Not because I found her unworthy or repulsive. Quite the opposite, in fact. Visenya had grown into a striking woman, beautiful and fierce, and it was evident to anyone with eyes. But the thought of the intimacy, of letting someone that close, of giving someone that power over me, twisted something inside me.

I smirked, letting the mask slip back into place. It wasn't weakness I feared. I wasn't weak. I had proved that time and again, especially after losing my eye. No one would ever see me as weak again.

But intimacy... Intimacy was a different kind of battle. It required a vulnerability that I wasn't sure I could offer. To open myself up to her, to anyone, felt like handing over a weapon and waiting for the strike. That was not a risk I was willing to take.

Besides, Visenya was not someone who would cower beneath me or yield easily. She had proven as much already, with her sharp tongue and defiant gaze. Part of me relished the challenge she posed. Another part... resented it.

I walked over to the table where my sword lay and placed a hand on its hilt, grounding myself. This marriage wasn't about affection or desire. It was about power. Control. The strength of House Targaryen. Visenya's legitimacy was still in question, but our marriage fortified her claim—and, in turn, Rhaenyra's. Otto and my mother had their own reasons for supporting this match, but I had my own as well.

The truth was, I needed to keep Rhaenyra's children close. Their threat to Aegon's claim was undeniable, but with Visenya as my wife, I could watch her. Keep her within reach. Prevent any moves against my brother or the throne. I wasn't blind to Otto's manipulations, and I knew he saw this union as a way to secure Aegon's rule. But that didn't mean I was his puppet.

No, I would play the long game, use this marriage to my advantage, and ensure that when the time came, I had the leverage needed to bend this family to my will. I glanced at the blade in my hand, feeling the cold steel beneath my fingers.

And yet, as I replayed the scene from this morning—her eyes widening when I approached her with the knife, the way she masked her fear with bravado—I couldn't help but feel a flicker of something. A curiosity, perhaps. She hadn't broken. Not yet.

Would I, eventually? Would we?

I frowned, irritated at the stray thought, and returned the sword to its sheath with a swift motion. There was no room for weakness here. No room for distractions. My duty was clear: protect my family, secure our legacy, and if necessary, bend Visenya to my will.

But I couldn't deny that something about her unsettled me. She was more than I had anticipated. More than just a tool for an alliance. She was a threat and a challenge—one that I wasn't sure I knew how to deal with just yet.

The vulnerability I refused to acknowledge gnawed at the edges of my resolve. The idea of being bound to her, sharing a bed, letting her see any part of me beyond what I allowed... it unnerved me more than I cared to admit. I wasn't ready to let anyone that close. Not even her.

The sound of footsteps outside the door snapped me back to the present. I straightened, putting on the mask of indifference I had perfected over the years. No one would see what I truly felt—not my mother, not Otto, and certainly not Visenya.

I would play the part of the dutiful husband, the loyal son. But beneath it all, I would be the one in control. No matter what.

With one final glance out the window, I turned away, leaving those troubling thoughts behind as I prepared for the next move in this ever-shifting game. Visenya may have survived the night, but this was only the beginning.

And I intended to win.