Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 17

Aenyra closed the door to her chambers with a soft click, the sound echoing far louder than it should have in the stillness of the room. Her breath hitched as she began to pace, each step fueled by a rising wave of devastation. How could her parents do this to her? Ship her off to Winterfell—of all places. It wasn't as though it were a short ride away. No, it was a world apart, a frozen, distant corner of the realm she'd only heard stories about.

To all but promise her hand to a stranger—one she had never met—was cruel enough. But to do so under the guise of duty, stripping her of any chance at a love match? It was a betrayal she hadn't expected, especially not from her mother. Rhaenyra, who had once been forced into marriage herself, who had lived through the pain of duty outweighing desire. How could she turn around and do the very same thing?

Aenyra crossed the room and flung open the balcony doors, needing the air. The scent of the sea hit her at once—briny and cold—as the wind tugged gently at her hair. She stepped out onto the stone terrace and gazed at the vast ocean stretched before her, the waves crashing rhythmically against the cliffs far below.

Her heart ached, not for the cold halls of Winterfell or the Stark boy she was expected to meet, but for the love she had lost.

Aemond.

Her best friend. Her constant. The one soul who had truly seen her—all of her—and never turned away. What they'd shared had been quiet, steady, and soul-deep. It wasn't born of politics or convenience, nor laced with duty or expectation. It had been something pure, something sacred—unspoken and unbreakable.

The world had torn them apart in one swift, merciless strike. A cruel twist of fate, as sharp as any blade. Yet even as the seasons passed, the truth in her heart remained unchanged—untouched. Not even time had managed to wear it down.

There couldn't be room for anyone else. Not now. Not ever.

...Right?

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked toward the horizon. The sun had begun its descent, casting streaks of amber and rose across the water. The glow bathed her skin in light, as if the world itself was holding its breath with her.

Dep down, she prayed Aemond still carried a piece of her, just as she carried him. And though the world may try to separate them, though ocean, castles and crowns might stand in their way, Aenyra clung to the one thing no one could take from her:

Hope.

Hope that someday, somehow... they would find their way back to each other.

A knock at the door broke Aenyra from her thoughts, and a flicker of unease swept through her chest. She didn't need to guess who it was. A moment later, the door creaked open and her mother stepped inside, her expression weighed with emotion.

Rhaenyra looked at her with eyes clouded by guilt, sadness, and something else—resignation. She closed the door gently behind her and stood there for a beat, as if trying to find the right words.

"I know you heard us," Rhaenyra said softly, her voice carrying a regret that immediately confirmed everything Aenyra feared. "About Winterfell."

Aenyra didn't speak—she only stared, jaw clenched.

"We heard footsteps outside the door," her mother continued gently, "and when we went to check on Aegon, Elinda told us you seemed... off. You dropped him off without a word. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

"Why are you doing this?" Aenyra's voice cracked as the words left her lips, trembling with hurt. "What have I done to deserve this?"

She looked up at her mother with pleading eyes, searching for any sign of remorse—any hint that this was all some mistake. But Rhaenyra's expression was steady, though her gaze shimmered with sorrow.