#only our king and his commander can help us

[peachysunrize]

SMOTHER | chapter 2

Summary: Every moment she spends in his presence makes her shake with anger, now more than ever with holding his hand in hers, bowing their heads to the king as the law changes. She would look back at her younger self, see the resentment she held for him in her eyes, and she still holds that hatred towards him, if not more, if not worse.

Aemond Targaryen returns to King’s Landing after three years from the end of the war he became the hero of, meeting his niece once again, and their tale begins.

Warnings: none

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an: hi hi hiii i apologize for taking so long to update... unfortunately life happened and i got caught up into my midterms(I still have a few more to go) but don't worry cuties, mama's got you I have my writing spark back so heheheh

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“Fucking cunt—“

  “Father…” Saera groans, rubbing her head as her father tries to stand up on his feet with the help of a cane, “We knew he would be like this, please do not let him—“

  “I will kill him!” Aegon yells, throwing his cup of water across the room, making the maids yelp and dodge out of the way, clearing the room as the King’s anger bursts, “How dare he disrespect my wishes so easily?”

  “Your Grace, I believe—“

  “You had one job, Cregan!” Aegon spits the words out, his grip wobbling on the cane as he turns his head to his Hand, “You were supposed to bring him to me! Days have passed, and he’s been living under my roof without seeking me out when I told you to bring him to my chambers the moment he set foot inside the castle!”

  “We tried, Father. It is not our fault he is hard to find—“

  “I don’t care! I am the King, and he ought to listen to me!” His voice roars within the walls, making Saera shudder. “Drag him here if you must!”

  The last time she had seen him so angry was when Jaehaerys’ death had the entire castle shaking in grief. She remembers his screams and her mother’s cries, but the fury inside him made everything else fade away, and all everyone could hear were the sounds of stone breaking and the sobs of the King.

  “I will, Your Grace, but let us help you back on the bed—“

  “He is in my castle, and you wish to put me on the bed?” Aegon shouts, making Saera flinch slightly, rubbing her arms as she tries to calm her nerves before she can help her father, but with the way he is screaming and throwing his belongings across the room, she knows she won’t be able to do anything to stop his anger, “Get him here now! It is a demand from your king! Find him dead in Maegor’s tunnels, but bring him here so I can bury him with my bare hands!”

  “Maybe it would be wiser to let him come to you, Father.” Saera gently walks towards him, trying to grab under his arms and hold him up, but Aegon pushes her away, grunting in pain as he stands on his broken feet shakily. “Let us help you. The Maester advised you not to walk—“

  “Fuck the Maester!” Aegon wails with each step he takes towards the door, groaning and whining in pain, glaring at anyone who dares to come close to him, “Bring him to me, or I will crawl the way to his room!”

  Saera sighs, her shoulder slumping slightly as she crosses her arms over her belly, looking at Cregan for support — or anything that might help ease her nerves — but he is in a worse state than she is.

  She knows all of her father’s screams and demands will fall on deaf ears because the entire realm knows how the king’s brother is, yet it seems Aegon is unbothered by all the cries of his name, only seeking to walk to the door and bring Aemond here on his own.

  “My King, I don’t wish to upset you, but Prince Aemond is not an easy man to command—“

  “Same fucking words coming out of your month since the hour of the wolf!” Aegon grumbles, his grip shaking on the cane as he takes another determined step forward, “So I have been told. Then I will not command him , I will command the King’s guard to drop him on his knees before me!”

  “Perhaps it would be wiser to do so while you rest, Father.” Saera walks behind him, ensuring he is within arm’s reach if he stumbles. “There are many important things we should discuss with him, and you must be calm and collected for it to be done.”

  “I do not care. If I wish to speak to anyone at my court, I will do so, furious or not!” Aegon scoffs, taking another step forward, his cane barely holding him up, “Why are you still here, Lord Stark? Move and bring Aemond to me!”

  “I shall not leave you in such a mess, My King. Let the Prince come to you, he’s abandoned his family, surely he must be grieving—“

  “Grieving?” Aegon stops, his head snapping in Cregan’s direction, and the glare he gives him makes the Hand swallow harshly, “Aemond is not allowed to grieve, not after everything he has done. He doomed us from the moment he sat on Vhagar.”

  “All Lord Hand is trying to tell you is that we can not force an untamed dragon to bend. Let him have his moment, his… peace, so to say.” Saera says softly, moving to stand in front of her father, gently cupping his scarred cheek, “He is trying to show his authority by tormenting you. Do not let him win, not this time. You are the King, my King, his King, whether he likes it or not. You command this castle, everyone bows before you.”

  She watches as Aegon’s eyes dart around her face, until he sighs and reaches to rest his hands on top of hers over his cheek, seeking the remaining warmth of his wife through Saera.

  She can feel how he ponders over her words, but the silence makes her weary. She is not really used to her father being quiet; he’s always been a loud and noisy man compared to Prince Aemond, even in their youth, she could spot the difference between them.

  “No.” 

  It’s a curt answer, steady and very clear. He leaves no room for argument as his eyes harden once more, looking at Saera sternly to step aside and let him do as he pleases.

  “Yes, Father,” she says, her hand dropping from his face, and with a deep sigh, she pulls away from him, walking back towards Cregan, who is just as exhausted as she is. She turns his gaze to Lord Stark, giving him a tight-lipped smile, “What shall we do about him?”

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