Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 41

Aenyra struggled to find the right words, her throat tight with unshed tears.

Viserys's gaze softened as he took in the sorrow etched across her face.
"My sweet girl," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Aemond is fire and ice—passionate and vengeful. But you, Aenyra... you are light. You will find a way to reach him."

A coughing fit shook him, echoing through the quiet room, but as it passed, he gently squeezed her hand.
"Love is powerful, Aenyra. I have known for a long time about his desire to be with you."

"Then don't deny us any longer the chance to be together. Please... allow us to marry."

Viserys gave a faint, tired smile and nodded with all the strength he had left.
"You have my blessing."

"Thank you, Grandsire. Thank you!" Aenyra exclaimed, her joy spilling over. She knew that with the king's blessing, no one could stand in their way.

Leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Viserys's head. "Rest now, Grandsire," she whispered, lifting his frail hand that still clasped hers and placing a soft kiss upon it. A smile played on her lips as she carefully laid his hand back across his chest before turning away—unaware this would be their final conversation.

Stepping out of the chamber, excitement surged through her veins. She could already envision a future with Aemond, bright and full of hope.

With a lightness in her step, she made her way toward Maegor's Holdfast. But before she reached that part of the castle, a booming voice echoed down the hall—startling her into stillness.

"AENYRA!" Daemon's voice thundered as he closed the distance between them swiftly.

"What's the matter, Father?" Aenyra asked, turning to face him, a flicker of caution in her eyes.

"You were supposed to be in your chambers," Daemon said, his tone edged with sarcasm. "I didn't find you there when I checked. So, tell me—where were you headed, little dragon?"

"Well, that's because I went to visit Grandsire—he wasn't feeling well at dinner, remember?" Aenyra answered firmly.

"Hmm, so it seems." Daemon's eyes narrowed. "I've come to inform you there's been a change of plans. We leave tonight—right now, to be exact. Let's go." He gripped her upper arm with a force that made her stumble.

As he pulled her forward, her mind raced with questions. "Where are we going? Back to Dragonstone?" she asked, struggling to keep pace.

"For now, yes," Daemon replied grimly. "We'll stay at Dragonstone until your mother claims her crown as Queen. Then we return here—and we'll rid ourselves of that green bitch and her spawn, along with that cunt Otto."

Daemon's disdain for Alicent and her family was no secret to Aenyra.

"I can walk on my own, thank you," she said, lifting her chin and shooting him a sharp glare.

"Then you better hurry—everyone's waiting," Daemon replied, shoving her playfully to quicken her pace.

"Am I not allowed to pack my belongings?" Aenyra asked, her brow furrowing as she noticed they were heading in the opposite direction of her chambers.

"I had someone take care of it already," Daemon said with a sly sidelong glance, noting the surprise flickering across her face at his unexpected foresight.

She turned back to him, puzzled by the lengths he had gone to. "It was you who changed Mother's mind, wasn't it?" Aenyra probed, her eyes searching his for any hint of truth.

"You'll understand one day, little dragon," Daemon replied cryptically.

But Aenyra wasn't convinced. She suspected he was the reason she and Aemond had been torn apart—she believe that this was exactly his intention once again.

He must've noticed after dinner, the way Aemond looked at me... If he truly was the one who intercepted our letter, then he's trying once again to tear us apart.

With a tear slipping down her face, she reluctantly climbed onto Cannibal's back, casting one last glance at the castle before they took to the skies

————-

Aemond

After leaving the dining hall, Aemond hurried back to his chambers, pacing relentlessly. He hated the pain he'd caused Aenyra, but the cruel taunts of her bastard brother—the very one who had taken his eye—echoed in his mind. He was being mocked, as if the suffering of his childhood had clawed its way back to torment him.

Aemond swore to himself he would never allow anyone to make him feel that way again.

He had come a long way since then—training relentlessly, pushing himself beyond every limit to surpass those around him. He had even built a facade, a colder version of himself. One without weakness. One without

After leaving the dining hall, Aemond hurried back to his chambers, pacing relentlessly. He hated the pain he'd caused Aenyra, but the cruel taunts of her bastard brother—the very one who had taken his eye—echoed in his mind. He was being mocked, as if the suffering of his childhood had clawed its way back to torment him.

Aemond swore to himself he would never allow anyone to make him feel that way again.

He had come a long way since then—training relentlessly, pushing himself beyond every limit to surpass those around him. He had even built a facade, a colder version of himself. One without weakness. One without emotion.

He regretted his impulsive mistake. Doubt gnawed at him as he considered how it might affect his relationship with the woman he loved. Aemond knew he owed her an apology—not just for striking Jace, but for the cruel words he had thrown at her brothers..

Determined, he made his way through the familiar hidden passageways toward her chambers. Quietly, he eased the door open, hoping—praying—to find her there.

But the room was empty.

"Aenyra?" he called out, stepping further inside. A strange stillness clung to the space, and something felt off. Her jewelry, once neatly displayed atop the dresser, was gone. Her weapon, usually leaning against her wardrobe—gone.

His stomach twisted.

Anxiety flared in his chest as he rushed to her wardrobe, yanking it open in a panic.

It was empty. She was gone... again.

How had he missed this?

Had she left of her own accord—following her family and abandoning him after everything he'd said and done? Or had she been forced away?

Questions spiraled through his mind, each more alarming than the last, clawing at his sanity and fueling the storm raging inside him.

Aemond felt desperate. He scoured the room, searching for any sign—any clue—as to why she had suddenly left. But there was nothing. No note, no explanation. Just absence. Deep down, he knew the truth: whether she had been forced to go or chose to leave on her own, it was because of him. He was the reason.

Returning to his own chambers, he collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of guilt pressed down on him. He didn't sleep—he couldn't. He lay there in silence, waiting for the sun to rise.

As dawn finally crept over the horizon, Aemond made up his mind. He needed answers. He had to know whether Aenyra had truly abandoned him... or been taken from him.

With quick strides, he moved through the long corridors, heading for his mother's chambers. But before he could reach them, the clang of armored boots echoed through the hall. Ser Criston Cole rounded the corner, breathless.

"I've been trying to find you—the King is dead. Aegon's been named the next King," Cole announced urgently.

Aemond froze, the words hanging in the air, not yet registering.

"PRINCE AEMOND." Cole grabbed his arm, shaking him. "Your father is dead, my prince. With his final breath, he named Aegon his heir. But no one can find Aegon—we must locate him quickly!"

Snapping out of his daze, Aemond gave a sharp nod, his jaw tight. Without another word, he followed Cole down the corridor, the hunt for Aegon beginning.