Opposition; Aemond Targaryen

𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮; 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓮

Naerys absent mindedly stared into the darkness of her shared chambers, too many thoughts running freely in her brain. Her eyes drifted down to her husband, who was kneeling before her, her leg propped up on his thigh, the heel certainly poking the soft skin through his trousers, her dress that was falling upwards on her thigh and his gentle touch caressing her thigh. His eyes never moved from her being. 

He was strapping daggers around her thigh; in case they'd get separated or if he died and she needed to survive without him. Silently he moved, the air too grim to speak. She reached her hand down, brushing softly against his hair, not even then did he look at her, his own face wearing too many secrets.

Her fingers trailed gingerly down his face until they rested below his chin, she raised his chin slightly, but he would not budge, once more she tried again, this time forcefully grabbing him and making him look at her. 

Her brows were furrowed, his body was tense, his jaw clenched, "Speak to me my love." Naerys whispered, slowly removing her leg from his thigh despite his attempts to grab it. Her dressed slipped back down the silky skin as she lowered herself to his height, resting uncomfortably on her knees.

A storm was brewing in his violet eye, the centers slightly darker than the outside, creating the most beautiful ombre she had ever seen. Aemond's hand reached for hers, "No playing the hero, nor the scorned woman. If the keep goes to hell you run." He demanded; his hand was squeezing hers almost painfully.

"If I should fall, you will name me a traitor and beg for mercy, you will not avenge me." Naerys demanded back. Aemond's jawline shook at her words, his brows furrowed in anger.

No words were spoken between them, but a silent understanding had come to a head. 

"Isn't this cozy?" A new voice joined the conversation. Naerys whipped around, only to be thrown backwards as Aemond's hand slipped under her dress, gracefully pulling a dagger free.

Daemon Targaryen stood before them, covered in blood head to toe, his hair stained a light shade of pink and a prideful smirk on his face, "What are you doing here?" Naerys released a deep sigh of relief, her grip on Aemond's forearm relaxing slightly.

He narrowed his eyes at the man, lowering the dagger to his side but his grip not softening any.

Daemon stepped forward, "If you thought I'd let the future queen escape on her own then you're surely mistaken." He scoffed. 

"I didn't think you would care seeing as it's your throne I am taking, after all it's what you've been pining for, for so long is it not?" Naerys stepped forward, her head raising slightly as she challenged the older man.

She expected rage from her words, but he only smirked, "Call for your dragons, children. I don't imagine we've much time." He demanded, sharply turning on his heel before exiting. Aemond stared at Naerys', a cross expression taking its place on the surface. The corners of her lips rose slightly.

"Is he daft? Two of the world's largest dragon's suddenly flying away in the midst of the king's disappearance and the 'attack' on his heirs?" Aemond scoffed, aggressively crossing the room and tugging her skirts upwards as he sheathed the dagger to her thigh. Naerys shuddered at the forceful touch, feeling slightly warm inside.

"Speak again you one-eyed cunt," Daemon's voice called, wherever he had trotted off too obviously not being so far.  Aemond's mouth turned downwards, a fierce snarl coming to place.

"Follow me, now." Daemon called once more. Naerys lifted her cloak's hood and covered her hair, Aemond followed her motions as she trudged towards the tunnel in her room, the soft thudding of her feet being drown out by both of the men's heavy and purposeful steps.