Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 67

Aemond stifled a low snicker under his breath as he rolled the parchment back up, slipping it once more into his pocket. Of course Jacaerys would yearn for what he and Aenyra possessed, something that was more than love, more than mortal devotion. What bound them together felt written in the stars, a thread spun by the cosmos itself. Every touch between them shifted the world, every glance reaffirmed that they belonged, utterly and irrevocably, to one another.

The word love seemed far too feeble a thing to encompass what he felt for her. It was not merely passion or desire, nor even loyalty. It was existence itself. And if Jacaerys and Helaena were able to touch even the edge of that depth, then perhaps they deserved the chance to grasp at their own fragment of joy.

The iron hinges groaned suddenly, breaking the silence. The dungeon door eased open, a narrow band of light spilling into the gloom. Aemond's breath caught as his eye lifted to the familiar figure in the doorway. Relief struck him like a wave at the sight of his mother's face, relief and an ache he hadn't expected, after the bitterness of their last words left hanging in the air between them.

"Aemond," Alicent's voice carried softly into the cell as she stepped further inside, the sound echoing against the damp stone.

"Mother," he murmured, moving toward the bars. Her face was drawn with worry, and though he tried to ease it with a faint smile, it did little to hide the exhaustion etched into his own features. "So, Aegon has finally freed you from your chambers. Has he granted the same courtesy to Grandsire?"

"I'm not sure... I—I'm sorry, Aemond. I regret everything," she whispered, her voice so fragile he might not have heard her had he not been standing so close. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Cole peering briefly inside before retreating to his post.

Alicent's words tumbled on, heavy with shame. "I was a fool to let my resentment toward Rhaenyra and her sons cloud my judgment. I chose bitterness over wisdom, and now Aegon—he's not the same. He's... changed." Her voice cracked, a tear slipping free.

Aemond looked away. He had never seen his mother so unguarded. She had always been composed, dignified, her strength restrained but constant. She had never been the most affectionate, never quick to comfort her children when they needed her most, but she was still his mother. To see her unravel pained him more than he cared to admit.

"What's done is done," he said evenly.

"But Helaena and the children are—"

"Safe. Or so I pray." His voice hardened, cutting across hers. "I imagine they've gone to Dragonstone. Helaena knew nothing of my plans to take them to the Vale."

Her brows rose. "You were going to take them?"

"Aegon killed Lucerys," Aemond said flatly, his eye locking on hers. "He nearly had me join him, if not for the vow I made to Aenyra. War is inevitable now. I only wanted Helaena and the children away from it. They are innocent."

Alicent's throat tightened. She nodded slowly, guilt pressing heavier on her shoulders. She had made so many choices she could not undo, and the thought of her daughter and grandchildren caught in the storm chilled her blood.

"Is Aenyra well?" she asked quietly, unsure if she had the right but unable to still her concern.

"She endures. She's strong. Lucerys' death struck hard, but she'll weather it."

"And the child?"

"The child is well."

"Good." Alicent's voice faltered. "Aemond, I am sorry. For so much. For trying to bind you to a Baratheon girl, for tearing you from Aenyra after Driftmark. I was blinded by anger... and when they returned, I thought perhaps we could mend things. But then the supper—everything fell apart, and I made choices I cannot take back. Choices I regret every day."