The Flames We Bear

Chapter 15 - Aemond

The day dragged on. Every moment spent in the castle's shadowed halls felt heavier than the last, as if the walls themselves conspired to stifle the breath in my lungs. The endless pleasantries, the dutiful conversations—I had endured enough of them to last a lifetime. But dinner was unavoidable, a formality I couldn't escape.

I had done well avoiding Visenya since morning, though I had no doubt she spent the day in my mother's company, no doubt receiving a lecture about duty and decorum. I wonder how that went.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I headed for the dining hall. I had a feeling Visenya hadn't taken well to my mother's "advice." She never did. Her face always gave her away—her eyebrows especially. Even as children, those eyebrows betrayed her every thought, every frustration. She could try to hide her feelings all she wanted, but I always saw through her.

Entering the hall, I scanned the room. My father, King Viserys, was already seated at the head of the table, looking as frail as ever. His body had weakened, his mind drifting, barely able to remain present. My mother stood by his side, a picture of control and devotion, though I could see the strain beneath her calm. Otto, of course, was there, always watching, always scheming. Aegon sat with his usual slouch, probably halfway to being drunk already, and Helaena... well, she was lost in her world of insects and webs, muttering quietly to herself.

And then, there she was.

Visenya entered the hall, and I felt my chest tighten involuntarily. She wore a gown of deep green—my mother's choice, no doubt. The color of Hightower. I nearly laughed at the sight. She hated it. I could tell from the way her brow furrowed ever so slightly, from the way her lips pressed into a tight line. Today had not been a good day for her. That much was clear.

For a moment, our eyes met, and I saw the flicker of frustration in her gaze before she quickly masked it. But those damned eyebrows, I thought with amusement. They always betray her.

I approached her, my footsteps deliberate, enjoying the way her shoulders tensed as I neared. She was trying so hard to maintain composure, but the irritation beneath that calm facade was palpable.

"Lovely gown," I remarked as I stopped beside her, my voice laced with mock sincerity. "Green suits you, don't you think?"

Her gaze sharpened, her brow lifting in that familiar, defiant way. "I'm sure you would think so," she replied sweetly, though I could hear the bite in her tone. "It's a shame it's not in the proper colors of our house. But I suppose it's charming to represent Hightower at every opportunity."

I chuckled, offering her my arm. "Come now, Visenya. Let's not argue over something as trivial as fashion. We wouldn't want to disappoint our families, would we?"

She hesitated, but then placed her hand on my arm, her grip a little too tight. As I led her towards the table, I leaned in, my voice low enough for only her to hear. "You've always been terrible at hiding your emotions, you know. Today was no exception."

Her lips tightened, and I could see the effort it took her to remain silent. She wouldn't rise to the bait. Not tonight.

"You would be prettier if you smiled." I told her. She glared at me and gave me a sarcastic smile before responding. "Would I?"

As we sat down at the table, my eyes wandered to my father. He looked so... fragile, lost in the haze of his own mind. Every day, he seemed to drift further away, and my mother bore the weight of it all, her serene mask slipping only in the moments she thought no one was looking. I saw it, though. I always saw.

Aegon, predictably, raised his goblet in a half-hearted toast. "To the happy couple," he slurred, a lazy grin on his lips. "May they find harmony in their marriage... however unlikely that may be." He snorted.

I felt Visenya tense beside me. Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, I wondered if she would respond. But I beat her to it, raising my own goblet with a smirk.

"To family," I said, my tone smooth, casual. "And to the strength we share, despite our... differences. After all, some of us come from very strong lines, don't we, Visenya?"

The room stilled. The insult was thinly veiled, but she caught it immediately. I watched her set down her goblet, her expression composed, but I could see the fire in her eyes.

"Indeed," she said, her voice cutting through the silence with precision. "Strength is vital in a family. Though some of us must work harder to prove it, while others... well, they must rely on one eye alone to see it."

For a split second, I froze. Her words sliced through me with more skill than I expected. She had thrown my own insult back at me, using my eye as her weapon.

Impressive.

Before I could respond, my mother stepped in, her voice filled with forced calm. "Yes, strength is what binds us all," she said, eyes flicking nervously between me and Visenya. "It's important that we remember that, especially now that we're united as one family."

Otto cleared his throat, always the opportunist. "Indeed. Unity is our greatest strength. We should all be grateful for the... alliances that have been made."

My father mumbled his agreement, nodding along as if he understood, while Aegon snorted into his wine and Helaena muttered something about webs.

I leaned back in my chair, watching Visenya closely. She had matched me, wit for wit, and there was a certain... respect that came with that. She was not easily broken. But that didn't mean I would stop trying.

As the conversation shifted, I leaned in again, my voice low. "You might think you've won tonight, but don't get comfortable. This is just the beginning, Visenya."

She didn't look at me, but I saw the faintest smile tug at the corners of her lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way, husband."

I smirked, raising my goblet once more. Good. Let the games begin.