Through Morning's Eye

Nineteen: Deny, Rely, and Cry

If Kristyne could punch herself, she would. After staring once, she could not seem to stop. He never noticed her, she looked away in enough time, but she hated herself for it.

She hates him. She wants to see him dead. He fucking kidnapped her twice, technically.

To be fair, he did save her from Larys ... but she would not have been in that position to begin with, had he not kidnapped her the first time.

Yet at the same time, he was making sure she was taken care of. Even during his absence, he made sure meals were delivered to her. But she would much rather enjoy meals with her brother, with her family.

For every reason she found herself borderline lusting for him, she could think of five more reasons to hate him.

Personality aside, she could finally understand the admiration for Valyrian beauty. Even with a missing eye he possessed the stereotypical Targaryen beauty, something she never truly saw before. Songs had been written for it, but she did not care enough to notice.

So why now? Was she truly so flustered over one fucking dream?

No, it wasnt just the dream. Things ... changed. Aemond was present for breakfast or a late dinner, if he missed one, he was always at the other.

And the dreams continued. Kristyne may have been a maiden but she knew the simple facts about sex. She knew how it worked. She had lonely nights on dragonstone where she explored, grazing her clit and letting a finger slide inside herself to see how it felt. But she had never made herself 'climax', as Rhaenyra referred to it when she gave her the lesson after she got her first blood.

One brief finger was not enough to break her maidenhood, she knew that, and she was still naive to how it trully felt. But the ache between her legs at night while she dreamt of Aemond nipping her neck gave her an idea.

For the first week, their breakfasts were more silent. He would speak to Moran about the books he wanted to switch out, his schedule, and the meals he wanted brought in.

After that first week of civility, Aemond placed a book in front of her on the table while she ate. "This was the most difficult book I have ever had to trace down, but it is yours permanently if you wish."

Kristyne dropped her spoon as she read the title. House Dayne: A History of Mornings and Stars. Kris looked up at him with her mouth agape.

"I can see the food in your mouth, you mannerless buffoon."

"Isn't this the only book on House Dayne in Westerosi history?"

"Yes, hence the difficulty in finding it. The only history on Dayne, besides that book, is found in Nymeria and Dornish books. Much of your house's history remains a mystery. Which I suppose is why it is a short book."

She noticed that immediately. It was the thinnest book of all in his collection, but one she cherished most. She did not know how to say thank you. "I assume you read it?"

He nodded. "Last night. Have you seen Dawn?"

She nodded. "I have seen many swords, including Valyrian Steel, but Dawn is the most gorgeous. The color alone is magnificent."

"Have they let you hold it?"

"Heavens no. You read the book, you should know not just anyone can wield it. Our most sacred tradition and possession is Sword of the Morning, and it has been for thousands of years. No need to break that tradition."

"You confuse me. Why take more interest in your mother's house when it is your father's house you are named to? You are a Strong by name, not Dayne."

She leaned back in the chair. "Recent events. Histories now, I suppose, in our family. My great-great uncle Simon Strong shall lead the Strong line now, I am of no use. I know my Dayne family, and once this is all over, if I am still alive, I wish to go there for the rest of my days. I could marry one of my cousins and take the name if I wish. House Strong became a tragedy the moment my father helped create bastards for the royal family."