Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 24

Aenyra hummed softly to herself, sinking deeper into the warm water as she carefully lathered her body and hair with her favorite lavender scrub. The soothing scent wrapped around her, easing the tension in her muscles.

Once she felt completely clean, she stepped out of the bath and slipped into a simple white shift, the damp fabric clinging gently to her skin. Leaving the bathroom, she made her way over to her vanity.

Standing before the mirror, she scanned her reflection for any lingering traces of blood. As she brushed damp strands away from her face, her fingers traced the faded scar on her forehead—the very mark she'd received the same night Aemond lost his eye. Each time she saw it, the memory of him surged quietly within her.

"Aemond," she whispered, voice barely audible.

Aemond's body tensed the moment he heard the bathroom door open. Peeking cautiously from behind the screen, his eyes widened as he took in the sight of a very wet Aenyra moving gracefully across the room toward her vanity. Her damp white shift clung to her slender form, the thin fabric revealing the subtle outline of her hardened nipples. He had never seen her in so little before, and the effect it had on him was undeniable. His hand moved involuntarily, rubbing over his growing hardness as he fought to regain control.

Then, his gaze caught the tender moment—Aenyra's fingers tracing the faint scar on her forehead as she softly whispered his name. At that, Aemond's body froze, a lump rising in his throat as a storm of conflicting emotions raged within him.

The line between love and hate was beginning to blur, leaving him suspended in a turbulent, aching limbo.

————-

Aenyra began braiding her damp hair, a long yawn slipping past her lips as the weight of the day settled into her bones. The events that had transpired had left her emotionally drained, and her body ached for rest. Deciding to take a short nap before supper, she sprawled across her bed, the familiar softness of her old chambers wrapping around her like a long-lost embrace.

Though she had grown fond of Dragonstone, there was something about King's Landing that still felt like home. Within moments of closing her eyes, her breathing slowed, and she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

From the shadows, Aemond quietly stepped out from behind the screen. His eye fixated on the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, the gentle curve of her body relaxed in slumber. He moved closer, each step careful and silent, until he was kneeling at her bedside.

For a long moment, he simply watched her, the icy mask he wore for the world slipping ever so slightly. In sleep, she looked otherworldly—soft, serene, and heartbreakingly beautiful. Like some spellbound goddess in a tale of old. His heart swelled.

She had always haunted him, but now, she was beginning to consume him.

Aenyra's perfect pink lips were full and inviting, her soft, pale skin flawless like that of a delicate porcelain doll. Her long white hair, even when braided, cascaded effortlessly down to her waist. The gentle rise and fall of her chest drew Aemond's gaze back to the sheer fabric of her shift, which left little to the imagination, offering him a tantalizing view of her breasts.

His eyes trailed lower, resting on her slender hand resting lightly across her waist. Carefully, he reached out and took it in his own, his fingers brushing over the faint, faded scars that marked her skin. More scars appeared along her upper arm and shoulder, but the one that held his attention most was the one she had traced earlier—the only one he had been there for. It was a silent reminder of shared pain, a fragment of their complicated past etched onto her flesh.