The Flames We Bear

Chapter 18 - Aemond

The Kingswood stretched out before us, dense and quiet, save for the rustling leaves in the light breeze. I turned back to glance at Visenya, left behind with the rest of the women. She sat stiffly, clearly still sulking, her arms crossed, not even pretending to engage in conversation or humor my banter earlier. Her sulking should've amused me—it often did—but today, it stirred something else, something unsettled.

I knew she hated being left behind. And maybe, if I were honest with myself, I didn't like leaving her there either. But I wouldn't admit that. She was stubborn and difficult, and I had my own role to fulfill. This hunt wasn't for her, no matter how much she protested.

As we rode off, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. The way her jaw set in defiance, the way she looked at me like she wanted to throttle me, yet something about that look made my chest tighten. I told myself it was the familiar dance of our sparring, but even I knew it went deeper than that.

A flash of movement caught my attention, pulling me out of my thoughts. A knight in full armor stood near the edge of the hunting party, a man I didn't recognize. His armor gleamed in the dappled sunlight, but there was something about him that struck me as... out of place. I glanced at Criston Cole, who was riding beside me, sharing my curiosity.

"Who's that?" I asked, nodding toward the knight.

Criston followed my gaze and then chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, that's Ser Daario Thorne."

I raised an eyebrow questioning if the name itself was meant to answer my question.

Criston smirked. "He used to be a gold cloak. One of Daemon's men."

That caught my attention. I shot Cole a sharp look. "Daemon's man, you say?"

"Aye," he replied, the humor in his tone thinly veiled. "Loyal to your dear uncle, as far as I've heard."

"And why is he here?" I asked, my voice dropping into something more dangerous.

Criston's eyes glittered with amusement as he spoke, lowering his voice as if to share a secret. "He has been assigned to Princess Visenya, her personal guard, as requested by Daemon and your dear sister. A wedding gift to their daughter."

I clenched my jaw, but kept my face impassive. Of course. It shouldn't surprise me, really. Visenya had always been Rhaenyra's precious daughter, the jewel of her line. And Daemon... Daemon had his own reasons for wanting to ensure she was well-guarded. Perhaps too well-guarded.

"I see," I muttered, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. "How thoughtful of them."

Criston chuckled, clearly enjoying the bite in my tone. "Indeed. Seems you've got competition, my lord."

I shot him a sideways glance, cold and unamused. "Hardly competition, Cole."

But the truth was, it gnawed at me. Not because of the guard himself, but because it was another reminder of how little control I had over this situation. Visenya's marriage to me was supposed to be about power, about bringing our family together under one banner. But at every turn, it felt like I was competing—competing with Rhaenyra's ambitions, competing with Daemon's influence, and now... competing for Visenya herself. She wasn't mine to control. She wasn't mine at all, it seemed.

I shook off the thought, tightening my grip on the reins. I had to focus. The hunt was at hand, and there were other ways to prove my strength. To show that I wouldn't be sidelined, not by my wife, and certainly not by Daemon or his lackeys. Visenya might not see it now, but she would learn in time who she was really bound to.

For now, I could play the game with patience. After all, I had plenty of time.