Aemma Velaryon was the spitting image of her mother; she had pale silver hair, fair skin, and dazzling blue eyes. She was a Targaryen in all sense but her last name which she bore from her father Laenor Velaryon. She was the younger twin of Lucerys...
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Aemma shoved Aemond's door open, not bothering to knock. He was standing in front of the fireplace, his chair toppled over. He did not bother to turn around, he had a nagging feeling about who intruded on his solitude.
"You!" Aemma said, her fists clenched.
"It's me." Aemond said, still facing the flames. He felt guilty at what he said about Aemma - to her face, no less. He tried not to let his anger get the better of him, but the way she defended them made him furious, and when the little Strong bastard had the audacity to laugh at the pig, it sent Aemond over the edge.
"You are... how could you say those things?" Aemma asked, resisting the urge to put her hands on Aemond as he faced the flames. "You taunted them into that fight."
"I wouldn't call it a fight, though you certainly did a number on Aegon." Aemond said, his voice flat.
"Turn around." Aemma said, her voice cold and angry. Aemond made no move to turn, his hands gripping his arms tightly as they sat clasped behind his back. All that was going through Aemond's mind was Luke cutting out his eye, Luke running out of the depths of the Dragonpit with a fat sow in tow. The years of teasing. The letter-opener. Aemma's hand.
"Aemond." Aemma's voice was hard, and she was running out of patience as she grabbed Aemond's shoulder, tugging at him. Aemond turned slowly, his face was empty, but his eye held years and years worth of pain and torment.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. He didn't even know why he was apologizing; it was Jace and Luke who had started it, years ago, but he apologized, nonetheless. When Luke laughed at that pig, it made Aemond feel small, like he was a boy of ten again, screaming into the sand as blood poured from his face. He needed to feel big again, like he wasn't that boy.
"I never meant to hurt you." He said, just above a whisper. Aemma frowned as Aemond dipped his head down and rested it on her shoulder; she was supposed to yell and argue and tell him it was over, but she silently cursed herself as she wrapped her arms around her waist.
"You didn't." Aemma said, still conflicted in her feelings.
"Why do I feel so small?" Aemond asked, his voice thick with emotion. He felt like he did on Driftmark, holding his mother as he comforted her about his lost eye. "It wasn't worth it."
"What wasn't?" Aemma asked.
"It wasn't a fair exchange. It wasn't fair." Aemond kept repeating the phrase as he squeezed his eye shut. Aemma pulled away as she examined Aemond's face.
"No, it wasn't." Aemma said, feeling guilty for finally admitting it. "But my brothers are everything to me -" Aemond silenced Aemma by pressing his lips to hers, grateful that the feeling helped washed away the sorrow and despair that had clawed its way to the surface.
"I'm sorry." Aemond said, pulling away for a brief moment. "I'm sorry."
"Aemond..." Aemma looked into his eyes, full of pleading. "I love my family; if you ever hurt them, I will kill you myself." Aemma said before pressing her lips to his once more.
