Exile - Aemond Targaryen

Chapter One

TW - Age Gap Relationship, Dub Con, Manipulation, Emotional Neglect, Emotional Abuse

128 AC, Claw Isle

The chatter around the Dining Hall buzzed in the liveliest of manners. It was happiness— a celebration for the son of the Lord of Claw Isle, a lively celebration for my brother's nameday. I stood to the side of the hall with a goblet in hand, the bitter taste of the red wine made my anxiety for these social gatherings go away. Or at least made some of ir go away.

Smiles, so many smiles thrown my way. They were a lie. None of these people were glad to see me. Not one of them could stand me. I could see— feel— their thoughts behind those vacant smiles. Whore. Harlot. Stained. I could care less. My fall from grace had been years ago and yet the court had not forgiven me, there was nothing more that I could do. Not that I even wished to gain their love back.

"Ah... little sister," my brother's voice lured me out of my self deprecating thoughts, "will you sulk in this corner all night?"

A snarl I could not control appeared on my face. "What do you want, Clement?" I asked him, eyeing him as he smugly smirked as if he knew something that I did not. He shrugged his shoulders, "you look miserable. I figured I could keep you company. Make sure you don't run off with one of the stable boys."

The jest was not comical to me. It was his favorite dig to make at me ever since the incident, and perhaps I should have gotten over it, perhaps I should laugh and make the best out of the past. But how could I? I was a lady ruined. There was nothing to laugh about in my opinion, though others would say otherwise. I happened to be the butt of every joke.

I sneered at him. "Tis not funny to me, Clement."

"Oh but it is, dear sister," he smiled widely, which made me cringe. I hated my brother's smile. It was sinister, something wicked always hid behind it— dormant, waiting for just the right moment to come out. I turned away from him, my eyes skimming over the lords and ladies that pranced through our hall.

My father sat his throne with my mother by his side, both of them smiling in an almost deranged manner as they hosted the evening. They were so proud of Clement, so happy that he was a man completely grown and already betrothed to some unsuspecting lady, a match that would boost House Celtigar's standing. My mind, as always, played tricks on me. Anxiety flooded my senses as my eyes met my father's, even though I begged the anxiety to go away.

I wished to not care for his approval but as soon as his expression hardened whenever he looked at me, I wanted to die.

He looked away, his smile returning as his eyes landed on some other noble. It made my stomach churn, the way that he blatantly hated me. I had trained my mind to not pay attention to his attitude towards me, but to no avail. One look of disdain from my father and I was already a crumbling mess. I guess I deserved it.

Clement disappeared through the crowd, basking in the attention he received from everyone around him. Sometimes I wondered if my father wished I had been more like Clement. So dutiful, so correct, so perfect. My mind liked to make up scenarios from my past, liked to imagine what would be of myself if I hadn't ruined my life at the ripe age three and ten.

I hated when my mind went there, but I
could hardly resist it. The doors to the hall opened and the herald announced, "Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen! Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne alongside her husband and consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen!"

I perked up at the second name, stretching my neck to get a peek at the royal couple. A smile crept it's way unto my face as my eyes landed on Daemon, my heart thudding against my chest as I watched him escort his wife through the room. He looked so handsome in his leathers.