The Flames We Bear

Chapter 19 - Visenya

The ladies gathered in a cluster, their eyes glued to Ser Daario Thorne, their laughter soft but filled with a kind of hunger. I couldn't help but watch too, though from a distance, feeling the weight of their whispered remarks.

"He's a fine specimen," one of them giggled, her voice dripping with mischief. "Couldn't mind if he came into my chambers in the dead of night, armor or not."

Another laughed in agreement. "Armor on, sword in hand... I wouldn't protest either way."

Their laughter was hushed but knowing, and I found myself turning away slightly, embarrassed at how openly they spoke. Ser Daario certainly had their attention. With his broad shoulders, strong jawline, and the scar across his brow that hinted at a life on the battlefield, he was a man who drew eyes naturally. His dark, wavy hair fell in a way that made him look wild, untamed, and the scars on his armor only added to his appeal. I wasn't blind. He was attractive in a rugged way, a stark contrast to that of Aemond.

I knew better than to join in their crude remarks, though. It wasn't my place—not with them, and certainly not when I had my own husband to think about. My husband. That thought alone was almost enough to make me laugh, though a bitter edge lingered in my throat.

A few of the ladies whispered even more lewd comments, suggesting what they'd allow him to do to them if given the chance. One of them caught me watching and raised an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on her lips. "What about you, Princess? Surely even you would be tempted by such a man. Doesn't look like he'd need to ask for permission first."

Her words stung more than I expected. I forced a smile, though I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. "I've little interest in crude fantasies," I replied, keeping my tone light but firm.

The woman smirked, unconvinced, before turning back to the others. Their conversation carried on, but I no longer paid attention.

Ser Daario, they called him. He was a fine knight, certainly, and a fitting addition to my protection, courtesy of Daemon and mother. But it wasn't him that plagued my thoughts. No, my mind had drifted to Aemond and what our marriage had truly become—or hadn't become, more like.

We were married now, but I remained untouched, still as inexperienced as the day I arrived at King's Landing. The truth was, I had expected something different. Aemond, with his brooding, sharp looks, his searing intensity, was not a man I imagined would hold back when given the chance. There were plenty of lords who would've taken their wives the very night of the wedding, whether the woman liked it or not. A husband's right, after all. But Aemond hadn't even tried. In fact, he seemed disinterested altogether, save for his need to play mind games with me. 

The memory of that night lingered—his taunts, his sly remarks, and then... nothing. He hadn't touched me. He'd mocked me, teased me, but he hadn't done what I'd expected. And that left me wondering why.

Was it control? Did he want to make me wait, to leave me guessing? Or was it something else, something I didn't yet understand? Did he see me as a threat, someone to be tamed or toyed with? Was he simply not attracted to me?

My mind spun with unanswered questions as the ladies continued their laughter. I clenched my hands in my lap, keeping my expression neutral. But the truth was, I couldn't shake the strange feeling of uncertainty, of not knowing where I stood with Aemond, my own husband.

I wasn't naïve. I knew what went on between men and women. I'd heard the stories, listened to the crude remarks from courtiers. And yet, despite being married, I was still an outsider to it all. It was a strange, unsettling feeling, to be bound to someone and yet feel so far from him.

My gaze drifted back to Ser Daario, his presence a reminder of what the other women were willing to indulge in. They reveled in their fantasies, while I sat here, thinking of the man I was supposed to be with and why he hadn't taken what was supposedly his.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. It didn't matter. Whatever games Aemond was playing, I wouldn't let him get the better of me. He could taunt, he could tease, but I would meet him at every turn. I wouldn't let him know the doubts creeping into my mind.

I wasn't going to be one of those women whispering in corners about their desires. But that didn't stop the nagging thought—what did Aemond want from me?