Dreams, Dragons, and Deceit || Aemond & Aegon Targaryen

The Princess and Her Uncles

"What happened?" Rhaenyra demanded as she entered the infirmary. Maester Orwyle had already seen Visaera through the worst of it when he set the bone. Now, he was wrapping a long strip of bandage around the tiny rod used to keep her finger straightened.

"I suppose the Gods had a reason for me to hate training so much," she replied, just as Aemond slipped into the room. She glanced at him, praying he would not contradict her lie.

"Training?" her mother asked in disbelief, "You were training? With who?" Visaera glanced at the prince standing behind his half-sister. "Aemond? What happened?"

He glanced at her, clearly unsure of what to say, and then shrugged at the princess.

"It's fine, mother, really." Visaera insisted. "I fell and I landed wrong when I tried to catch myself. The maester says I'll be fine again in a few short weeks." Rhaenyra continued to stare at her with worried eyes until a pain shuddered through her. Pressing her hand to her swelling belly, Rhaenyra decided to go lie down, leaving Visaera alone with her future husband.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

"Just what I said," she offered lamely.

"I might believe that, had I not already seen the side of my brother's face." His eye glittered menacingly as he leaned toward her, "You're to be my wife, Visaera, I expect your honesty." He smelled of sage and smoke and she briefly wondered when he had been out flying. Or, perhaps, he was like Daemon, always smelling of dragon.

"Aegon kissed me, so I punched him in the face," she finally admitted with a shrug. She caught the murderous glint that flashed through his eye before he schooled his features and his smirk returned.

"Perhaps we should have spent the afternoon teaching you how to punch rather than how to hold a sword," he took hold of her uninjured hand and raised the back of it to his lips. "How on earth am I going to train you now that you can't hold a blade?" he asked, making her laugh.

"Perhaps you can teach me something else in the meantime?" she asked, blushing as his gaze darkened and she realized her double entendre.

"Hmm, what would you like me to teach you, Vis?" He hadn't needed to say anything. The way he was leaning over her already had her heart racing and his words only ignited a fire inside her. She looked up into his eye for only a moment before her own fluttered closed and then his lips were there, pressing against hers, claiming her mouth.

His hand had moved, lifting her chin, then he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and Visaera gasped. Just as his hand began to move, sliding down her neck and over toward her chest, the door burst open and the pair scrambled apart.

"How are you, my love?" Daemon asked, the glint in his eyes telling her he absolutely knew that he was interrupting something.

"I'm fine, Daemon, really. It's just one broken bone," she insisted, glancing at Aemond. Her heart was still racing and she hoped she looked more composed than she felt.

"Hmm, if you wanted to train, you should have waited for me to return."

"The King told me to," she defended, glaring up at her father.

"And yet, the King was not there to witness your injury..." Daemon glanced at her uncle, as though he were blaming Aemond for her injury.

"No," she admitted, "He was taken back to the keep just before it happened. But it was my fault, I swear. I'll just have to be more careful." The prince glanced back and forth between Aemond and Visaera, seemingly trying to decide if they were hiding something.

"Supper is in a few hours; I'll escort you back to your rooms." She didn't bother to argue, knowing it was a losing battle; she merely pushed herself up and followed Daemon out of the room, throwing one last glance at Aemond.