Aemon Targaryen

Your brother Aegon allowed Naerys to become a septa, taking you as his wife instead. It was evident that he did not love you. The whispers in the corridors, the furtive glances, all spoke of his lovers and the bastards he fathered across the realm. Meanwhile, Aemon, your other brother, had forsaken his own life to swear his vows as a Kingsguard, all to shield and protect you. You had always been a fragile child.

That night, you felt no fear of your husband’s summons, knowing he was likely bedding one of his mistresses. Alone in your chambers, you stared at the crown of flowers Aemon had placed upon your head when he crowned you Queen of Spring and Beauty after winning a tourney. The memory of his intense gaze stirred something deep within you. You rose from your seat and flung open the door. There was Aemon standing guard.

Without giving him time to react, you seized his arm and pulled him inside. "What are you doing? he asked, confused.

You were no longer a weak, delicate child