AN: I just want to say, thank you so, so much to ThisIsKimmie (on AO3) for their wonderful comment! I literally felt the same way about the Jace/Aegon ship until I decided to read one and now I'm sorta obsessed :O) I agree about the twincest! So we won't do that. About Daemon *rubs hands together* I fully intend to! Yes, Aemond/Daenerys is end game. Lol once again thanks soo much. I don't always answer comments and sometimes I will actually answer them in the box, but I wanted to reply to ThisIsKimmie right here so that everyone could feel informed. Thanks so much again, you literally made my day because after a bit, I wasn't so sure about this idea, but I have the will even more now to keep going. You rock, Kimmie. Cheers xx

A Dance with Deviance
Chapter Two
-\-O-/-

If she were not so obviously a bastard, Aemond might feel inclined to marry the Princess Daenerys himself. He'd never allow himself to, even if he found her quite fetching. Her blood was tainted, dragon or not.

It made his own blood boil.

Aemond did not care for many maidens, it was true. Highborn girls he found overly dull, or hard to please. So far, he had refused to wed any of them. None of them felt like prizes worthy of a Targaryen prince.

When it came to the whores who had fawned over him during his rare visits to the brothel, he remained true to his first, Sylvie.

She had been kind to him when he was a young, innocent prince, forced into the dimly lit establishment for the first time by an ecstatic Aegon. The place always smelled of the bodies within, of their sweat, burnt wax and incense and spices. He preferred the cold castle walls, the comfort of quiet.

He had been desperate to fit in, desperate for his brother's love and appreciation. He had just gained the largest dragon in the world, the hollow ache where his eye used to be of little consequence when he saw the bigger picture.

However even still, Aemond carried a deep-rooted resentment for his nephew, Lucerys. Occasionally, he still thought about taking one of those Strong, blue eyes in the night while the boy slept.

He had tried to let it go. He was a grown man now at twenty, and his mother had reminded him many times over how much he needed to put all his childish animosities behind him.

When he had grown up with Daenerys, she had looked the spitting image of her brother. If little Dany had dressed in boy's clothes and chopped off her hair, she could have easily fooled everyone into thinking she was Jace.

Now that she had grown herself, she was every bit her own woman. She had far more freckles dusting her than Jacaerys who sported a small sprinkling on his nose. When she smiled, her teeth were near perfect and white which was remarkable. Daenerys really took care of herself.

She always smelled delicious, like apple blossoms, the freshest of linen, and her hair, those lustrous, long brown curls that she'd allowed to reach well past her hips. She was always sitting on that hair, though how she kept it so sleek and soft when so easily it could tangle was a mystery to him. Her handmaidens must have spent hours tending to it.

Aemond had to admit, Daenerys could be witty too, capable, resourceful and quick-minded, though much too naïve for her own good. Though she was more or less a delight to be around, her maturity level reached juvenile, at best. She had no idea how lucky she really was to be in her position, and he would have no trouble being there to keep reminding her.

He would have made a great king, maybe even the best of all. The chances had been ripped away from him before he had even been born and here she was, behaving as if the whole world was ending around her. She was exceedingly melodramatic, theatrical even, stubborn and selfish, thankless.

She irritated him to no end, he wanted to hate her so much and yet more and more, Aemond found himself entirely endeared.

He had yet to know what to make of it, but for now he would keep his eye more keenly on her. He would look out for her, and make sure when it came to her husband, that she would make the right decision.

-\-O-/-

It was lunchtime the next day, and Rhaenyra had gathered her children at the long table to eat with her. The little ones were there too, of course, Joffrey, Aegon the Younger, Viserys and little Visenya.

Jacaerys nodded to them as he joined, lost in his own mind as he took a seat beside Daenerys. "Mother," he greeted, settling in and pulling some hot food onto his plate.

They had previously shared a small council meeting just moments ago and Daenerys wondered how it had gone. Jace longed to prove himself, and Dany believed he deserved more than just a fair ear when he was at their table.

Then Daemon sauntered in, and it was like everything went slow on Daenerys as she observed his new look. It seemed he had, at some point after dinner last night or this morning, lobbed off his hair.

She almost hadn't recognized him, never having seen him like this before.

Targaryen men oft kept their hair long, or shoulder length. She could not believe how much more appealing this style made him look, a bit of flair at the front, longer bits of waves that framed his shrewd eyes nicely.

Positioned at the head, Rhaenyra peered over to her husband beside her. "Your hair," she said, and Daemon licked his chops in amusement, taking the chalice of wine on the table and pouring himself a goblet. "It looks good."

"Thank you, my queen."

Rhaenyra scrutinized him with an air of reverence, finishing her chewing. "No, truly. I always preferred it like this."

Daemon smiled softly, but the younger few at the table stared at them, mildly addled. "I don't ever remember it this way." Jacaerys said, conveying exactly what they were thinking.

"That is because it was before your time, the last time." Rhaenyra took a sip of her wine, a curious glint in her piercing grey eyes as they assessed Daemon. No one had seen her look at him quite like that in a great while, the two having drifted apart little by little.

Jacaerys gave his stepfather a nod of approval, and Daenerys flushed as Daemon's gaze fell to her. His eyes lingered on her discontented features before addressing her brother. "Jacaerys, my boy," his voice was light and jovial, downing almost all of his goblet in one pull. "When Baela returns from Driftmark, you're to wed immediately and start giving us more heirs."

A stony expression overcame Jace, zeroing ahead to a spot on the wall. Daenerys looked at her mother who appeared in alliance with her husband. "Of course, your grace."

"Mm." hummed Daemon, his brows gesturing to Daenerys. "Much easier than trying to convince the girls in this family."

Rhaenyra's eyes smiled at her eldest daughter as she continued to tuck into her meal, but Daenerys did not feel hungry.

She did not know what she wanted, but she was sure it was not the way her uncle Aemond had chastised her in the library, nor the way Daemon had been looking at her lately, that tantalizing touch along her lower back when they spoke in the corridor.

Daenerys may not have wanted it, but a deep-seated part of her might have liked it, just a bit.

Though he was family, Daemon shouldn't be so… familiar with her. It was unbecoming behavior, not just for him, but for her, unseemly for her to even think such things, and it was absolutely his fault for planting that sinful seed within her.

Yet she was certain, as usual, she was overthinking it all. There was no way Daemon would cross that line. Her mother might not hesitate to execute him if he ever actually tried anything, and Daenerys happened to have respect enough for Daemon to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He may have called her lovely, but that meant nothing. She was sure of it.

Uncle Aemond she believed she could handle, but he tended to frighten her. She did not think him interested in her, per say, but her state of affairs were really none of his business. Why did he seem to always meddle in them then?

If he wasn't meddling, he was in the background watching, judging. Both he and Daemon were so difficult to read, and Daenerys was typically a quick study. Not when it came to the men in her family.

When she felt ready, Daenerys excused herself from the table. As she dared glance back, Daemon's mischievous stare was twinkling at her, causing tingles in her spine, at the untouched place below her belly. She could not quite tell, but it felt like he knew something she did not, waiting in anticipation with a great secret.

It unsettled her to bits.

She waded out to the gardens in a daze and sat herself down at the fountain, prying open one of her books. It was one she had read a hundred times over, well-loved, the hard spine of it cracking, the pages crinkled and dog-eared in places.

It was a tragic tale of harrowing family ties, the unshakable bond of two brother's being tested and a sizzling romance between star-crossed lovers. She was getting to one of the good parts, where Ser Kevan professes his love for the mysterious Lady Arwa Vangray. She sadly, did not return the knight's affections, for she was entwined in a passionate affair with the gorgeous Lord Nethaniel of Serpent Marsh.

Daenerys sighed as she read how Kevan took Arwa into his embrace, forcing his kiss onto her, maddened with obsession. Dany had not noticed she had company, watching as she chewed the inside of her cheek, biting at her lips in a bashful, blushing grin, twirling a lock of hair around a finger.

"Must be a good story," his voice fell softly in her direction, and she jumped, bristling like a petrified cat who'd been caught misbehaving. "I can't remember the last time I've seen you so blithe."

"Uncle Aemond," Daenerys had to catch her breath, clutching at her heart. "S-Sorry, you caught me a bit off guard."

"As I can see." He stood before her, snatching the book from her grasp within seconds.

Dany immediately protested, attempting to grab it back from him. "Excuse me – ?" Aemond only swatted her hands away like a fly. His eye scanned the pages as he fanned through them, brows raising slightly at its content before tossing it back to her.

"Insipid rubbish."

Daenerys shrieked, offended. "No it is not. It's… lovely. Its escapism."

Aemond snickered lightly, derisively, "What do you need to escape from, princess?"

"You, for one," she braced herself for the inevitable scolding, and she added, "My prince," as a soft consolation for her churlishness, yet the cheek on her tongue was completely evident.

Aemond was scarily silent, studying her before slowly sliding beside her onto the edge of the fountain. He was gargantuan next to her, she felt so small. Daenerys did not meet his enticing eye, her breathing ragged as he leaned in nearer, his long thigh pressing to her knee. He spoke in their mother language, his tone sensual and goading. "You could not escape me if you tried."

The temperatures inside her heightened to that of a blazing star, her face reddening. Her thighs trembled, rubbing together. She felt an unbidden wanton ache, a pull within which she was becoming more and more familiar to when she was around the attractive men in her life.

She heard sloshing from the water, feeling her hair being toyed with behind her and watched while her uncle lifted a dripping curtain of it from the fountain.

He lay gingerly her soaked hair on the ledge between them, straightening out a few of the pieces with great care. When Dany blinked up at him, his features were gentle, his gaze amused.

"Does this not bother you?" he queried, and Aemond was not certain if he meant her long hair, or his closeness.

"What…? My hair? Oh no. Not really. I'll never cut it again."

"So you'll let it grow to your ankles? You'll be tripping all over the castle, even more so than you do now."

Daenerys rolled her eyes, "No such bother. I like where it falls now, and I'll maintain it so." Then, as she realized Aemond wasn't yet leaving, she asked inconspicuously, "Did you see Daemon yet?" Aemond shook his head slowly. She reopened her book to the correct page. "He chopped his off." Aemond was indifferent to the information. "Would you ever?"

"I doubt it." He told her, finally standing.

"Where are you going?" She tried not to seem as interested as she was to know.

"For a ride."

Daenerys felt guilty as she looked after Aemond's retreating form. She had not taken Silverwing out for a good sky run in a few weeks and she was likely restless to spend some time with her. Dany made internal plans to take her out tomorrow.

At that moment, she wanted to finish the next few pages of her story. Afterwards, she planned to saturate her soul with wine.

-\-O-/-

Jacaerys was in his quarters, journaling a bit. He had been taking notes about the meeting in the council chamber that afternoon. Nothing of true significance these days, and Jace supposed that was a good thing.

However, time went on painstakingly slowly, flat and dull. Every day was the same, and he longed for action, for excitement. He had fire and blood rippling through his veins and nowhere he could put his pent-up energy.

Not even a ride on Vermax could fully sooth him, and he had done so constantly. Atop of his dragon, gliding through the air was one of the only places he felt tranquil, at peace.

And it was not enough.

"My prince," his guard called from outside, opening the door where an impish Aegon emerged. "Prince Aegon."

"Uncle," Jace greeted, setting down his quill and folding his hands in his lap. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"You will drink with me tonight, Jacaerys. This time I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

Jacaerys refrained from himself the displeasure he felt at the notions. All anyone ever wanted to do was fall headfirst into their cups. The more of it and the quicker, the better.

He liked drinking, but between Aegon and Daenerys, and even Daemon and his mother the queen, it felt like he could not prevent his family from becoming a house of lazy lushes overall instead of the fierce dragons they were born to be.

Aegon wagged his finger at him like a berating maester, "Ah-ah. I said we're drinking." He presented two goblets and a large decanter full of swirling red liquid. Aegon placed them on the table, a cup before Jace at his desk and one for himself.

Jace had not even said anything yet to prompt Aegon's scolding, but he could not deny the obvious apprehension riddled throughout his demeanor. "Alright then."

Aegon's eyes rolled to the back of his head dramatically as he sat down across from him, "Ugh, please, nephew. Save us the grief and the semantics."

Jacaerys glared at him, annoyed yet a small smirk tugged at him. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh funny," Aegon said, feigning a cringe. "You usually do."

Jace's mouth fell open, insulted and he noticed, not for the first time, Aegon eyeing him, gaze flitting to his lips when he thought he wasn't looking.

"Now drink up!" Aegon clanked his goblet against Jace's. It wobbled and Jace grabbed hold of it before it could topple over. Yet Jace peered into his cup suspiciously as Aegon waited for him to pull from it. Aegon's shoulders slumped slightly at the inclination, but his shit-eating grin remained. "If I wanted to kill you, nephew, I'd have done it long ago."

That was true, Jace surmised, but the risk was always there, whispering to him, mocking him. He took a slow sip, his eyes not leaving his uncle's, and he swallowed. After a moment, they both saw that he had safely survived and Aegon snickered, shaking his head.

"You need to let go a little. You're always so brooding," Aegon was animated as usual, probably already having plenty of wine during the day. He acted out his words, using his expressions to imitate his versions of Jacaerys. His back straightening tall in his seat, serious and tight-mouthed. "So… austere. Soo unsatisfied." He made an overtly sad face at Jacaerys, humorous, with large puppy eyes and long, deep frown.

A smile slid low along Jace's lips as he tried not to laugh.

"Want me to introduce you to the finest whores? You can let out some of that frustration that's been eating you away."

Jacaerys blushed despite himself, a quick shake of his head in disagreement. "I-I can't."

"Well, why bloody not?"

"It wouldn't be right to Baela."

Aegon chuckled darkly, his head tipping back to take the deepest pull of his goblet, a single red rivulet trickling down his pale chin.

"You may find it amusing," Jace added. "But my betrothed would certainly not."

"So she won't find out," Aegon belched lightly, filling up his cup again. "It'll be our little secret." He pointed to Jace's neglected cup. "Drink."

Jace gulped all of it down courageously, gasping for air by the time he was through and Aegon, giddy, poured him another. He stared at Aegon, considering him. He had never dared let himself think it, but Aegon was more… pleasant to perceive than Jace ever gave him credit for.

His perfect, proud nose and silvery, arched brows allured one to see further into his sea blue eyes that oft held more sadness and depth than the man would ever let on. "I'd rather just drink here in the castle, with you."

Aegon lit up, delighted at that prospect. After a moment, Jace and he both drinking their fill, his uncle's gaze ignited with an idea. "Care to find a bit of trouble about?"

He looked dastardly, devilish and Jacaerys was afraid for what he had in mind. "What sort of trouble?"

Aegon simpered with glee, grabbing Jace's arm and pulling him from his chair. "I can't be sure yet, but we'll find it."

-\-O-/-

Daenerys was in her chambers attempting to settle in for the night, but relaxation was eluding her. She had gotten dressed to her bedclothes, which consisted of one of her nightgowns and long robe, as well as her stockings she'd wear until she was ready for sleep.

Her gown was satin and sheen, a light rosy pink and her robe was of the finest silks. It was one of her usual evening looks.

Simple, and comfortable, but she did not feel comfortable somehow. Not at all.

How Aemond had looked at her, and what he had said by the fountain had not left her mind.

"You could not escape me if you tried."

No. No, she probably couldn't have. He would be on her like a wolf to a rabbit – a great beast.

But would she really want to? Escape him, that was.

Now that she was thinking about it…

Of course, Daenerys did not want to be thinking about it, but her curiosity was, understandably so, piqued.

What had her Uncle Aemond been implying? At first she had thought he'd sounded cruel, but how he said it, how gently he had stared. He was playful, but he had meant what he said. It was like he was teasing her, a provocation as if to incite her to run from him so that he could – gulp – catch her.

She gave another look in the vanity mirror, circling some more balm over her face and chest, her shoulders. The buttery salve helped keep her skin smooth and supple, and her inevitable aging at bay for as long as she could.

There was a creak at the door of her lesser used servant's corridor. It was a dark and narrow passage and nobody at this hour should have been using it.

She startled out of herself at once, standing and readying to call for the guards.

It was only Daemon, pressing a long finger to his lips to quiet her, but that did nothing to quell her throbbing heart.

-\-O-/-

AN: ooof, sorry for the cliffhanger. Sporadic updates asap xx