The Tragedy of Liliyana Lannister 𓆗♡ AEMOND TARGARYEN ♡ 𓆗

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Liliyana was brought back to her room. No words were uttered from her husband on their journey. She only heard the purposeful clanking of his shoes. His body rigid and tense, Liliyana did not want to know his current thoughts.

He placed her in the middle of the room, onto the chaise lounge she never used. His movements were delicate, but Liliyana felt the undercurrent threatening to come forth from his body. She knew he was displeased with her injuries, but she could not tell if the anger was also reflected towards her. For her foolishness.

And she dared not speak, as a result.

Liliyana watched him pace her room and pick up pillows, seemingly looking for something. Aemond found it under the table her book sat on. He pulled out a red and gold embroidered pillow, soft and plush. It was a gift from Jason before she left for King's Landing. Over the years, the pillow became a source of comfort when homesickness visited Liliyana.

Aemond leaned his wife forward and tucked the pillow behind her for support. He then walked out from her room without a word.

The door closed, filling the room with silence and minimal candlelight. Liliyana's migraine had lessened, but the pain moved to behind her eyes. When she focused too much on something, the throbbing began. She settled for closed eyes and tried to ignore the soreness in her neck.

Her door reopened. Aemond entered and once again reorganized her room, trying to find something.

"Aemond--" she began, wanting to help and hating his silence.

"I asked the servants to bring up things to help you. They will be here shortly." His clipped voice cut across the room. Despite being fairly known for his patience, her husband hanged on a threat right now.

The door opening again made her jump. Three servants entered, carrying a large bowl of hot water, rags, and vials and jars of medicine. The last woman set down metal tools, making Liliyana shudder. How horrible did she truly look? The women left, only to be replaced with the Queen and Hand.

"Aemond!" his mother said, watching him cross the room to kneel before his wife. Her eyes then landed on Liliyana and she visibly gasped. "Liliyana! By the gods, what happened?"

Liliyana went to stand, to greet her properly, but Aemond blocked her with a squeeze of her hands. He brought the bowl and rags beside him on the floor. He soaked one before ringing it out.

"Close your eyes," he told her, finally addressing her properly.

Liliyana did as she was told and let her husband work.

"Aemond, have the maesters come up and do this," the Hand insisted. The hold the Lannister girl had on his grandson was ridiculous. It was one thing to love her, but Aemond might as well have been a slave to her, a willing one, at that. Alicent made a grave mistake when agreeing to let the boy marry her.

Alicent shook her head. "Liliyana, please tell him--"

"Leave," her husband ordered, not turning to address them. The rag was rung out again, the once clear water now a pinkish red.

Liliyana did not move. Embarrassment ate her alive as she watched where the Queen and Hand stood as they silently pleaded with Aemond. Liliyana did not want her husband to stop. She needed his hands on her right now.

He continued patting her cheeks and lips in silence. Liliyana closed her eyes and breathed out when she heard them leave.

"Aemond..." she whispered.

"Hm," was his only response. The rag swept over her forehead.

"Are you angry with me?"

Aemond stopped. His eye snapped to hers. They brimmed with more unshed tears. "No."

"Then you are disappointed with me."

"No, Liliyana, I'm not." He stood and observed the vials and jars on the table, looking for the right one. Aemond's thoughts, as scattered as they were, were drawn to the single task of helping Liliyana. He did not want maesters touching her. He knew how to treat injuries just as well as them. They would not have been gentle. The stitching and subsequent removal of his eye were proof enough. Maesters would have drowned her in milk of the poppy and it would have only made her sick.

When she was younger, she broke her finger. How, Aemond did not know. But the gossip reached him and he immediately went to see her. Lord Tyland supervised his sixteen-year-old sister while she drank milk of the poppy, only to violently throw it up some minutes later. Her finger, swollen and purple, was set with a splint. Her cries tortured his nightmares for weeks. The maesters were too rough and inconsiderate to her pain.

"Why not?"

Aemond almost didn't hear her. He settled on the gray jar and returned to her side, bending his knees to be eye level with her. "Because you did nothing wrong."

"If I hadn't left the castle, none of this would have happened."

Aemond placed the jar between them on the carpet and held her face with his large hands. His fingers trembled as he tried to compose himself. The shame in her eyes mirrored his own as a child. And, despite finding out she had not been raped, the damage had been done. "You did nothing wrong," he insisted. "The ones who hurt you are the ones to blame, Liliyana." Aemond did not let his thoughts drift to the people who hurt his beloved right now. He would not have been able to recover. Justice would be met, but it needed to wait.

Liliyana looked away, unable to hide her discomfort. "Then why do I feel so horrible, Aemond?"

Her husband did not have the right answer for her. He did not know why she, or he, felt so shameful. Books did not share any insight. Women were hurt by men, and they dealt with it and they maybe received justice. That was the way. And women did not hurt men--not the way Aemond was hurt--in his books. But he was hurt.

Liliyana was unable to make sense of something that women experienced in their world. Even now, Aemond saw her green eyes glazed over and her body sat rigid, reliving the experience.

"Because you were told you should be, Liliyana," Aemond finally said. He thought of her mother and a young Liliyana. Rumors over the years circulated among the highborn families about their relationship. That she was a monster. The woman's refusal to see or speak to Liliyana was a secret blessing. She would not want to be in the same room as Aemond.

His words cut into Liliyana. She said no more and let Aemond be. The jar in his hands was an ointment. He massaged it into her cheek and gently into the bruise on her temple.

"Hold out a hand for me," he asked, making sure his voice remained even. He dreaded this moment.

"Aemond, you don't need to do this." Embarrassment came off her in waves. "I can run them over water."

"But the threat of infection would remain," he told her. He grabbed a new rag in one hand while his other guided hers into the bowl.

She reeled back once her fingers touched the water. The burn stretched down into her forearm. "Ah!"

Aemond watched the water explode into red. He memorized it; for when he'd enact his justice.

He did not pull out her hand until her fidgeting lessened. The heat felt good after a while, Liliyana had to admit. Her husband knew what he was doing. He cradled her hand in the fresh rag and gently applied pressure. He did the same with her other hand.

Liliyana began watching him again. His attention to her never waned. Each action had the same fervor. Even as he wrapped her fingertips in bandages, his patience astounded her. Thankfully, the better she began looking, the more relaxed he too became. The rage that simmered under the surface bubbled away; she would be alright, he would take care of her, take care of the situation.

Always.