Chapter Text
It was a little past the break of first light when Muriel woke to noise in the room. Combined with the unfamiliar surroundings Muriel bolts up right in the bed looking to the direction of the sound. Aemond sits on a chair pulling trousers on, looking at her as he finishes lacing them shut. She watched him in silence as he stood. Shadows danced across his bare torso. His pale skin looked like carved marble as Muriel saw how toned he had become from his years of training. The shadows carving out his abs as he grabbed his black cotton blouse and pulled it on over his head. She noticed he had not yet put his eye patch on, the sapphire glinting in the low light.
"I'm heading to House Baratheon to offer my hand to one of his daughters in exchange for their allegiance, since Rhaenyra refuses to bend the knee to Aegon,” Aemond explains as he gets himself ready, trying to ignore the sight of her. Her hair all tousled, her chemise hanging low on her shoulders and his blankets all rumpled around her, as if she had been tossing and turning all night.
"You're getting married?" Muriel asks groggily, rubbing her eyes.
“That’s correct. As long as Lord Baratheon agrees," Aemond answers, continuing to dress as he buckles his jerkin. His words are clipped and to the point. He decided avoiding looking at her would be the best course of action.
"Congratulations," Muriel whispers.
"It wouldn't be till after the war. Can't have conflicts of interest in times like these," Aemond says. He pulls on his heavy riding coat, doing up the metal hooks.
"Are you always so serious?" Muriel questions him, watching how studios he was in dressing himself. Each layer being properly secured before reaching for the next item.
"I have little taste for humour. It's so often used as an excuse to dismiss what's actually important," he says. Now fully dressed he makes his way to stand in front of his own bed that she laid in, as if she belonged there.
“So, instead you let duty and obligation consume you?" Muriel tried to pry, to show how obdurate he was being.
"I do not have time to debate you, Muriel," Aemond sighs, her name catching in his throat, finally looking at her. "Come, you must get you back to your own room," he says, holding out a hand for her to take.
"Aegon?" Muriel asks, only half voicing the question. Her voice being caught in her throat, not sure how to ask it. She takes Aemond's warm hand and slides out of bed. A shiver runs through her as her bare feet touch the stone floor and the cool morning air prickles at her skin.
"In his own bed, after a night of heavy drinking. Ser Arryk is watching over his door and Ser Willis is standing in front of yours," Aemond answers, looking at her trying to evaluate her state. To see if she was nervous to go back to her room. It takes him a moment to notice her shaking. That she had lost her shoes, standing barefoot on the cold stone in nothing but a thin cotton shift. His eye darted quickly towards the wall the moment he noticed her nipples had peaked from the cold.
"Where did you sleep?" Muriel asks, looking at his bed.
"Don't worry about it," is all he says before scooping her up in his arms. It startles her, but Muriel doesn't fight it. She noticed that he carried her she her face was on his left. His blind eye facing her. Muriel surmised that when one was already vulnerable that you would keep your seeing eye as open as possible, avoiding any obstructions. He had taken a few steps before she felt the hilt of his sword press against her. Muriel wraps her arms around Aemond’s neck, pulling herself up a little. Making it more comfortable for both of them, despite the fact that it brought their faces that much closer.
"The doors that way," Muriel says, gesturing with her head, not thinking about how he probably couldn’t see her nod her head.
He feels her breath tickle against his neck. "Do you not think of the rumours that would start from the sight of the Queen leaving someone else's chambers in the early morning? They would not be kind," Aemond says, trying his best to not sound like he was scolding her. He took the stone passage at the far end of his room. Aemond absentmindedly winding his way to Muriel's room. Her bouncing in his arms a little when he used any of the stairs in the tunnels.
"I should have gone to Aegon's. It would have been less suspicious," Muriel thinks out loud.
"No," Aemond blurts out. "Did you not see him last night? Are you really that much of an idiot? That you would put yourself in harm's way. He wasn't going to-," Aemond scolds her.
Muriel, in her anger, shoves at him with both hands. Pushing her torso back and away from his. Unable to recover after the push, Aemond loses his hold on her body and Muriel falls from his arms landing back first, hard against the cold damp stone. Aemond groans at her, "Ao doru-borto riñītsos. Līs ao va moriot sagon sīr qopsa?”
(You stupid little girl. Must you always be so difficult?)
"Ow!" she yells still on the floor. Her brows knit together as she grimaces at the pain that shoots through her back.
"You caused that, not I," Aemond points his finger at her, pushing his guilt away, blaming her instead. He watched her glare at him from her place on the cold stone floor.
"My apologies my prince, I didn't know I should stay cradled in your arms while you call me an idiot," Muriel shouts at him, feeling like it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with all of this.
"I didn't call you one. I questioned if you were that much of one,” Aemond says. A cruel smirk playing on his lips. He watched her stand up, dusting the dirt off her hands. "Clearly you are," he mocks her. Without thinking twice Muriel's hand strikes him across the scarred side of his face. Before he can even feel the sting, Aemond's hands tightly grab Muriel's arms, pulling her roughly towards him before dipping his shoulder down and wrapping his left arm around her knees, snugging her hips against his shoulder while he stands back up right.
Muriel, now stomach down, propped on his shoulder, began to scream and slap against his back in protest as he took long strides. He easily ignored her assault, her smacks against his leather clothes feeling hardly more than a firm pat on the back. He quickly finished the journey to her room, now able to move quicker with her easily perched on his shoulder like a sack. "Zaldrīzoti gaomagon daor care bē se hīghagons hen ōtor,” Aemond says as he tosses Muriel down onto her bed.
(Dragons do not care about the cries of sheep)
“How dare you!” Muriel shouts as she bounces back up and comes after. With a mighty fury she attempts to hit him again for the insult of carrying her like that. Being larger and better trained, Aemond easily fends her off, blocking her hits with his forearms and quickly wrestling her to the bed. She wriggles and writhes under him as he grabs her arms, pinning them beside her head. He uses his hips to hold her down while his legs wrap around hers. Aemond was surprised at how much his dragon riding skills helped him easily handle her unladylike attempts to buck him off.
"Lyka aōla,” Aemond says as he tries to soothe the burning rage that had consumed her.
(Calm yourself)
"Unhand me," Muriel yells at him, baring her teeth, unflinching under his menacing gaze of violet and sapphire . She tried to move her arms again, unable to make them even budge under his harsh grasp.
"Lykirī ilagon," Aemond hisses, surprised by how his attempts to pin her down seemed to spur her on. "Lykirī," he purrs at her the moment she stills under him.
(Calm down., Calm)
"Ahh," she yells at him, using all her force against him, yet is still unable to get him off her. Feeling his body press tighter against hers. "I am not some beast for you to tame. Do not speak to me as if I were such!" Muriel belowes till Aemond slams his hand over her mouth.
"Do you want to summon the guard? Hmm? And have him catch you mounted by the prince? Issa kraj bianor,” Aemond says, watching the furry change into panic as her eyes flashed open. "Konīr's se rēko hen dārion," Aemond teases, chuckling a little at her as she blinks from his breath fanning across her face. "Now, stay still so I can get up," Aemond says, watching her carefully as he pulls away. He takes his hands away first leaning up so he sits on his haunches, watching for her to make another move. She lays there panting while he slowly shifts his legs. Moving them off the bed one at a time.
(My fearsome ewe., There's the rose of the realm)
Once he was standing she propped herself up on her elbows, breathing heavy as she looked at him. "Never handle me like that again," she says, making daggers at him as she stands in front of him.
"Hae raqagon nykeā dyni se nyke jāhor judligon ao raqagon nykeā dyni," Aemond responds, a smirk on his lips. More excited than he expected from having her yelling under him. Seeing her exertion as she fought him. "I have to go," Aemond says, swallowing hard. Fighting back the thoughts of her in his head. Unsure if he waited for her to start up again.
(Act like a beast and I will treat you like a beast)
"How long will you be gone?" Muriel asks, her voice catching slightly. The fury she had moments ago dropped away as she realized how precious this moment was.
"If things go well, most likely a day," he answers, looking away from her.
"Well, good luck I suppose," Muriel says, trying to ignore the tear creeping into the corner of her eye. Very carefully she stepped towards him, cupping his cheeks while she looked up into his eyes. "Whichever one she is, Lady Baratheon will be lucky to have a man such as you for her husband," she all but whispered to him. Aemond swallowed hard under her warm inviting touch, not knowing what to do as her earnest brown eyes looked at him. Stuck thinking about how she looks at his disfigured face.
"My nephew has made sure that any woman would scorn the idea of being married to me," Aemond says, nursing his old wound, bitterness crossing his tongue.
"Tsk,” she clicks her tongue at him. “I think this is when you would say something poetic in High Valyrian. Caging me out of the thoughts in your head," Muriel says, her thumb stroking the scar on his cheek.
"Raqagon skorkydoso nyke jaelagon issa ābrazȳrys sagon yn gīda se bykast keskydoso ao? Nykeā skorkydoso se gīmigon bona īlon cld emagon issare idīnagon, yn arlī issa lēkia istan bīkagon arlī mirre syt zirȳla naejot tymagon rūsīr, ijiōrtan bīkagon toliot? Kessa, nyke lua se iotāptan se tolī naejot nykēla," he says, letting himself touch her as he tucked some of her hair behind her ears.
(Like how I wish my wife would be but even the slightest imitation of you? Or how the notion that we could have been wed, but instead my brother was handed yet another thing for him to have on a silver platter? Yes, I keep these thoughts and yet more to myself)
She allows herself to lean into the moment. The contact between the two of them, her hands on his shallow cheeks as his hand cupped her ear and stroked her hair. Muriel convinced herself that it was only right that a sister comfort her brother-in-law when he looked so lost. "Don't feed that darkness in yourself. You're only going to end up like those you hate," Muriel tells him, wanting to plead him to stay exactly as he is right now.
Aemond moves a fraction of an inch closer, the reins on his heart slipping for a second. The pull of her blushing cheeks and warm hands. How open she was to him, so exposed in nothing but her shift. This stranger, this woman who was actively trying to fall in love with his brother, was touching him how he had longed to be touched. To be lost in the idea that maybe his future bride would be but a fraction of what she had become to him. Aemond, not ready to give up his control and scared of his own feelings, pulls away. Not knowing how to answer her plea. He needs the darkness, it’s what kept his heart safe. What greeted him when his brother and nephews were rough enough on him to make him cry. It was the only thing keeping him strong enough to pull away from her loving touch. The ability to wrap his feelings away and leave only the cold darkness. He watched his mother do it when he was young. How she could just pull herself back, shut off her feelings in order to maintain her queen façade. No, he would not let go of himself. He couldn’t. If he did he would just doom them all. He knew under the cold darkness was the raging fire that he could use to burn the whole world down.
He leaves through Maegor's tunnels to find his mighty beast. Vhagar was also excitable this morning, quickly taking to the sky, hardly waiting for Aemond to be properly mounted. The early morning air filling his lungs and clearing his head. He knew other dragons were likely to be out. His family wasn't the only one scouring the realm to find out where the Lord's of the Seven Kingdoms allied themselves. The sun was high up in the sky, burning down upon by the time he arrived at Storm's End. With Vhagar being so huge he had to land her in a field outside of the castle’s walls. Lord Baratheon’s men nervously greet him, watching every move of his large dragon. Aemond loved that feeling. Getting to watch men years older than him look as if they were about to piss themselves when they lay their eyes on Vhagar. The dragon that he claimed when he was but a boy. The superiority that he always believed he had over others made abundantly clear. How there was now no one who could make him feel small and weak anymore. For he was a Targaryen and all of his house should be feared. He would remind anyone who denied his family why their motto was Fire and Blood.
Muriel had stayed frozen in her spot till she heard the maids coming in with a cup of Aegon's special tea from the Maesters. The rowdy night was quickly known by most of the staff, not much ever staying private amongst the staff. She let them make jokes about how the night must have been and smiled along to their playful banter, letting them prepare her for the day. The day itself was long and boring, Muriel's mind often being dragged off to thoughts of Aemond. She was still mad at how rough he was with her. How he easily carried her and pinned her down. How they could be so close and then he just shuts her out, the cold distance washing over him again. She tried to ignore how part of her liked being overpowered, finally being able to let all her anger and frustration out. How he easily handled her while she hit him and that he didn't seem to fault her for getting so mad.
Much of her life had been spent controlling herself. It had been years since she had lost her temper at anything more than furnishings, and now she had become a whirlwind, and he just took it. More than that. He had pinned her down and tried to tame her. Muriel had always been lectured on how a lady should act, and her goal was always to live up to it. Then in that moment she had lost the grip she thought she had on herself. The ladylike façade washed away and Aemond didn't seem horrified by it. But that only made it worse. The fact that maybe he liked that side of her felt like a cruel joke, worse than one of Aegon's.
Aegon, oh Aegon. Who was stuck in her mind between being someone that she thought she could really be in love with and someone she was scared of. That Aemond’s warnings of his brother were entirely correct. When he joked with her and showed her new exciting things. Things that Muriel had never dreamed of. That’s when she felt she could love him. He seemed to want to share so much with her and she enjoyed that. Getting to explore things previously forbidden to her. Muriel had to admit that she also enjoyed a most of his humour. Aegon was fun to be around when he was jolly. Then there was the man he was last night. Muriel knew he didn't mean to be so crude. That he had clearly drank so much that she doubted he even remembered his full name at that point. But, there was always that piece of him simmering under the surface. Everything was expendable to him, including her. That made him even more dangerous than the idea of his brother possibly falling in love with her. One could be managed and controlled through general rules of decorum, the other was the King. Who didn’t like to be told no.
It was while praying in Sept that Muriel took the time to call on the Maiden, asking her to help Aemond get a good wife. To have a new sister and one less temptation in her life. To the Father to help guide Aegon and make him a good strong King. To the Mother to help give her the courage to become one herself. Lastly to the Warrior to be with Aemond as he flew into who knew what with the tumultuousness of a kingdom on the verge of war.
Muriel's heart felt heavy as she and Ser Willis finally went home to the keep. The sun was setting, as she looked South Muriel saw a storm was brewing. Thunder rumbled on the horizon, flashes lightning darting through the grey clouds. Foreboding makes its way through her bones. She never liked thunderstorms, often hiding them out with one of her siblings. Now she was miles away from them and the only one she had found comfort in was probably trapped in the eye of it at Storm’s End. Aegon would probably laugh at her if she came to him for comfort. Muriel was curious if Helaena would have any suggestions, or perhaps one of the Maesters could brew her something for her nerves. Before all that she decided to make her way back to her room trying to decide if she wanted dinner at this late hour. When Muriel found herself to be a little peckish and made her way into the halls to find some food it seemed strangely busy. Muriel grabbed the arm of a rushing maid, asking what had caused such a stir.
“Haven’t you heard Your Grace?” the maid looks at her a little confused. Muriel shakes her head. “The one-eyed prince had an encounter at Storm’s End. He has slain Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” she answers before scurrying on her way. The floor felt like it fell out from under her. Aemond had left to become a husband and had returned a murderer. Worse yet, a kin slayer. Her hand gripped they way, trying to steady herself as she watched the activity with greater understanding. They were preparing for retaliation.
“Where might I find the prince?” Muriel asks another passer by.
“The small council Your Grace,” the man bows before continuing on his way. Despite knowing she wouldn’t be allowed in she makes her way to the doors, pacing back and forth chewing deep into her thumb. She ignores the blooms of iron that spread in her tongue as she gnaws away at the nail. After some time the doors finally open and Alicent is the first to exist, tears brimming in her eyes.
“Is it true?” Muriel says, stepping towards her.
Alicent looks at her with wide eyes, surprised by the interruption. “I don’t see what concern it is of yours. This is a family issue-” Alicent says. Muriel interrupts her with a laugh at the irony of the statement. A slap meets Muriel’s cheek, burning offence in Alicent’s eyes. Muriel cupped her cheek, but knew that she deserved it. “You have no part in this,” Alicent grits out, walking away.
“You have to forgive my daughter,” Otto says as he comes out. “She is facing the burden of parentage. To come face to face with your own failings made flesh,” Otto puts a hand on her shoulder. He tilts his head, looking at the blooming red on her face. “She hates to see how she herself lashes out in anger and now has borne witness to her son doing so. Her other, only too happy to revel in the wanton violence,” Otto sighs, dropping his hand, waving on her to walk with him. “Aegon has seemed to like your attention. I need you to use this. His brother’s… mistake has only spurred him on towards his plan on declaring all out war. We need patience. More than half the Great Houses have yet to declare. If you wish to serve this Kingdom you will do this,” the Hand says, feeling low about needing the help of a woman.
“Is that why I’ve been married to him?” Muriel asks.
Otto laughs at her even bothering to ask after being raised to the highest station a woman could ever achieve. “What does it matter why you were married to him? Your grandmother and I made an argument, that’s all that matters. I expect you to be a queen and serve this Kingdom, and above all,” he turns to her, pointing his finger and saying, “head every word from me. I have served two great Kings. I am trying to guide Aegon into being a third. So, when I tell you to do something I expect you to heed my words. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Muriel swallows hard.
He pauses again, thinking to himself before saying, “but do not let him know. Aegon has not been taking my advice well. Try to stay in his good graces. He is your husband after all.” Otto offers her a sympathetic smile before making his way to his own chambers, tired from the never ending day.
Muriel looked into the emptying room. No one was left in there except servants clearing the table. She wandered her way to Aemond’s room, unsure if she wanted to give him comfort or absolution. Ser Willis wandered behind not saying a word about her actions, ever the silent protector. After having no answer to her knocking Muriel opened the heavy door once again only finding an empty room. A pang went through her heart remembering that it was only the night before that Aemond had found someplace else to sleep and that more than likely he found his way there again. Or, perhaps he went to drink his sorrows away as he brother did. Either way Muriel knew it was not in her arms that he would find whatever he needed. She pulled at the pain she felt, dragging it back deep into her chest. Denying herself feelings about it. She left as soon as she came to her own chambers, letting her ladies prepare her for bed. She dismisses Laycie too, not caring for any songs after such tragic events. Her bed feels so cold and lonely, but yet she lets sleep take her away. A blissful escape from her quickly spiraling world.
