The Blue Princess ☆☽ Aemond Targaryen

CHAPTER NINE

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

"When the sun's harsh light burned too brightly, the moon found solace on the quiet glow of the stars."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

❀ 122 AC ❀

The heavy wooden door to Aemond's chambers creaked open, its sound low and deliberate, cutting through the stillness. Naerys hesitated at the threshold, her movements slow and tentative, as though crossing into another world. A dull pressure pulsed behind her temples as she entered, faint at first, like a whisper of discomfort.

Aemond followed her in, closing the door softly behind him. The quiet click of the latch carried a strange finality, sealing them away from the outside world and wrapping them in an intimate silence.

The room welcomed them with muted warmth, the faint scent of aged wood and lavender drifting through the air—a soothing contrast to the chill clinging to the stone corridors. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting golden patches on dark furnishings. The light softened the room's sharp edges, but its warmth felt hollow against the weight of grief trailing behind them.

Naerys lingered near the door, her tear-bright eyes darting across the room in search of something to anchor her. But the chamber, familiar as it was, offered no solace. Her slender fingers twisted the fine silk of her skirts, her knuckles whitening as though she could wring control from the delicate fabric.

Her legs gave out under the weight of her anguish. She slid down the wall, crumpling to the floor as her skirts pooled around her in disarray, like wilted petals. Wrapping her arms tightly around her knees, she buried her face against them, her frame trembling with shallow, uneven breaths. A dull ache had settled behind her temples, the kind that blurred the edges of her thoughts and made her eyes feel heavy. She pressed a trembling hand to her brow, trying in vain to ease the pressure, but it only grew sharper as she fought to keep the tears at bay.

Aemond's gaze never left her. The sight of her trembling, the sound of her broken breaths, struck him like a physical blow. A visceral ache twisted in his chest—a helpless pull he couldn't name. Slowly, as though afraid to shatter the fragile stillness between them, he lowered himself to the floor beside her.

He sat close enough for his presence to be felt but not overwhelming, his posture careful and deliberate. After a long, weighted moment, he extended his hand, brushing his fingers lightly against the fabric of her sleeve. The contact was hesitant, almost reverent.

Naerys flinched, her arm jerking instinctively. Aemond froze, his breath catching as he withdrew his hand, uncertainty thickening the air between them. But the thought of doing nothing gnawed at him. After a pause, his hand hovered over her shoulder, then rested gently.

She tensed at first, her body stiffening beneath his touch, but the tension melted into a shudder that rippled through her. Encouraged, Aemond let his hand settle more fully, tracing slow, deliberate circles with his thumb along her shoulder blade—a silent offering of comfort.

A choked sound escaped her throat, fragile and broken. A single tear slipped down her cheek, glinting in the sunlight. She reached up to brush it away, but the motion only unraveled her further. Tears followed in an unstoppable stream, her hands trembling as they tried futilely to erase them.