#Aemond becoming a therapy truther!

[dulcewrites]

I need to see this conversation between the two of them 😭 Aemond being emotionally vulnerable is so rare and precious.

I Got You, Babe

“Based on the baby book my mom gave me, bean can’t respond to sound just yet.”

Aemond looks up from Myrah’s belly with a frown. “I’m sure bean can hear us though. We are his parents.”

“His?”

“Helaena said it’s a boy. You know she was weird huntches about this stuff.”

Aemond wasn’t wrong. Helaena did weirdly predict certain things. But she had to stop saying most of them outloud after Aegon called Alicent freaked out when Helaena randomly texted one day that he was gonna die when he’s 81.

Be grateful. That’s longer than anyone thought, texted Aemond in the group chat.

“Well, they don’t understand they are hearing us,” Myrah leans her head back against the pillow. “But I think I’m gonna play Mariah Carey for bean so they come out with good taste.”

Of course her child would have to be a lamb. It just sounds right.

“Hey bean, it’s your dad,” Aemond leans his ear against Myrah’s belly. He nods as if he hears something. “Bean says they’re nice and warm in there.”

Myrah laughs. “I’m glad the accommodations are to their liking. I do my best.”

She combs her hair gently through Aemond’s hair wondering if the child inside of her will resemble him or her more. Or will they be a hodgepodge of their features. Her eyes, his lips, her nose, his hair. The hair last down from Viserys to amazingly all his children.

“I was on the phone with Rhaenyra today on the way home from work,” Myrah wonders if she should even bring this up but she knows if she doesn’t she will regret it.

“Hmmm,” she can tell Aemond begins to check out at the mention of her.

“And I asked her if she could get a list of referrals for me,” she pauses for a moment. “From her therapist.”

Aemond’s gaze goes from her belly to her eyes. “You want to go to therapy?”

Myrah nods. “Or at the very least see if I can find someone. It was not something I thought about till recently, but I think it could be beneficial. If I have the means, why not? I wish everyone could have the chance to.”

Aemond nods silently.

“I could ask her for a list if you want to try and find one too.”

“No,” he answers immediately. “No thank you”

Before she can mask it, Myrah frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing if you asked,” he sighs, sitting up. “And made that face.”

Myrah likes to think that much of the success Aemond and her have had relationship wise is because of how honest they are with each other. There should be no reason to stop now, especially with the knowledge they will be expected to raise a child together.

“If this about how I will be as a father I-“

“It is not about that,” She sits up herself. “At least not all about that. You should want it for yourself before anyone else.”

“Want what?”

“To work through how you feel - felt about your father.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t care to think about him anymore,” Aemond scoffs.

“No, I haven’t because I know that would be a lie. I saw your face at the funeral. I saw your face when he asked to come to the wedding. As someone who loves you so much, it hurts to see, and if there was a way for you to understand that none of that is a reflection on you. Or your siblings or Alicent. I think you’d be better for it.”

Her mother has always said she pushed people. If something was on the tip of her tongue or the top of her brain, she had to express it. A blessing and curse really; it took years of unintentionally stepping on toes to figure out the happy medium.

Aemond looks down, and mutters something.

“What,” Myrah reaches out to grab his hand.

“Then it becomes real,” he whispers.

“Oh, Aemond.”

He knows that if he has to talk about it, face it head on, that he will have to come to the realization that Viserys is gone, really gone. And that his father left the world giving Aemond the same thing he did when Aemond came in it… absolutely nothing.

“My love, you’re allowed to mourn him. You’re allowed to mourn what did happen, or what could’ve been. Hell, you’re allowed to be upset that you want to mourn any of that.”

Aemond swallows, and chews on his lip.

“Just think about it,” Myrah squeezes his hand. “Sleep on it and if you still feel the same way in the morning I will drop it. Scout’s honor.”

Despite himself, Aemond snort at the last part, and Myrah holding out her pinkie for a promise. He sighs and laces his with hers. His other hand goes back to her belly.

“Your mom is one tough cookie,” he murmurs. “But we are lucky to have her.”