cruel gods [aemond targaryen]

XVIII

Within a few moments, Tommen joined the pair and Maellery had engulfed him into a hug as a greeting. Tommen knew, they all knew. He returned the hug. When she was done, she clutched his face, not softly like she had done in the sept but harshly, possessively.

"You're going to be sent off, on the morrow." She cried, her eyes were wide and diluted. She was speaking in a tone of denial, it was utterly confusing to her young maid. She looked at Aemond for reassurance, who nodded in return.

The night continued, the keep fell still. Tommen had been forced to stay with Maellery for the rest of the time as her anxieties grew to a critical point. Nor Aemond or Tommen could seem to settle her. Until she gave out, her body had exhausted itself to the point of collapse.

Tommen slept on the sofa, being covered by blankets by Maellery who told him to hide himself if someone were to enter. Aemond on the other hand, sat in the chair, indulging in glasses of wine and watching the door. Watching.

The moon reflected her curls, once filled with colours of orange and hope now diminished to a deathly white. Aemond watched as she slept. She awoke many times in the night, most of the time she would go to Tommen, lying her head on his chest. Her fear being shot down as she heard the beating of his heart.

Other times she would make her way to Aemond and sit on the floor of the chair, resting her head on his knees as he played with her hair. After she once again fell asleep, Aemond would carry her back to her place of rest.

They had not caught them, they had escaped the keep with the head of Jaehaerys. Sweet Jaehaerys. Aemond wondered what his sister was doing, was she sleeping? was she haunted? did she float around the keep like a ghost? looking for her sons head?

He quietly left the chambers, making his way to the queens rooms. The sight he saw was blood curling. Helaena, his sweet sister Helaena, was now led in the moonlit skies, her eyes widened and shell shocked. She was whispering something, though Aemond could not tell you what. She was clutching the bedsheets so hard that her knuckles had turned the shade the moon seemed to keep.

He sat on the small rest seating on the end of the bed, like him and his mother did when she was much smaller. Sh whispered and cried and Aemond allowed her to do so by herself, he did not know what to say, what to do. When his mother joined her side, he had left. Hearing the screams and cries of his sister just outside the door.

Maellery was waiting outside their chambers when he returned. She was panicked slightly, fluttering her arms around. "You were gone." was all she said and Aemond felt himself rotting inside. He escorted her back to bed and promised that he wouldn't leave again.

This time he did not go back to sit in his chair to finish his wine, he returned to his side of the bed they shared, holding Maellery's hand as he drifted into unstable sleep.

Their day had begun before the sun had even sprinkled the sky, Maellery hurriedly took Tommen to a carriage made for him under the night skies. The two bid themselves goodbye and Maellery watched as her closet friend left. In the end they were nothing more than children comforting children.

Aemond was called into a meeting with the King. His brother, Aegon, seemed in a daze of drunken grief, calling for revenge, ideas of treason, beheadings and torture. Otto, more than once, had to calm him down. His son was just murdered Aemond thought, this is the only time he should not remain calm.

As he sat, his fingers twirled around the pin Maellery gifted him, memorising every bump and ridge it had. He was not nervous, he was angry. Otto began, Harrenhall had fallen, surrendered after Daemon was seen circling on his dragon.

Aemond's anger was growing each time he spoke, finally spilling when Otto told them that Winterfell had declared for Rhaenyra, followed by the Vale. Though his anger was shred, Aegon rose and declared Criston Cole as his new hand, insults were thrown to his former Hand.

Aegon's first order, allowing Sir Cole to march on every lord who had sworn to Rhaenyra, putting them and their lands to the flames. Cole began immediately, commanding their armies of green to march.

They would set off as soon as they could, first allowing the sun to take her place in the sky. They would not attack under the dark, they wanted them to see what they could do. What they would do if they never swore to their king.

Aemond left abruptly, walking through doors to find his wife. Aegon had slipped a suggestion to him whilst Otto was away from ears. Something he ravished in, excited for. He could hardly contain his excitement, his enthusiasm. He would be able, if he was lucky, to inflict the most damage on Team Black whilst on Vhagar.

Vhagar was a war dragon, having survived over 100 battles, she was a grumpy old thing, with a thirst for blood, death. Aemond did not know whether it was him that had caused it, they shared the pain of each other. Vhagar did not hesitate when eating the bastard and instead, let out sounds of excitement as she did, chomping down on each part of him.

Meanwhile, Helaena and Alicent sat in front of Jaehaerys' coffin, leading it throughout the streets. Maellery sat in another, watching as the smallfolk grieved with them. Alicent was much beloved, when she gave her crown to Helaena the feeling moved on.

Now that both were in pain, having their small boy ripped from them, the smallfolk joined them in their suffering. Some cried, some fell dramatically, some shouted things about "Rhaenyra the cruel".

Maellery rode in silence, taking the sight and sounds of the people. Watching Helaena. When their journey had ended, Maellery made her way back to her chambers. A certain targaryen stood waiting for her, his pin still fiddling between his fingers.

He smiled at her, a gesture she returned. "We're marching north." Aemond replied to her and she noticed the lack of eyepatch spread across his cheek.

"And how long will that take?" Maellery asked him, turning to face him.

"A few days maybe" he murmured, when he looked back to her she was nodding but her eyes seemed down, sad. They chose to look to the floor. "Mae."

"I don't wish to speak of it." She replied, waving her hands, he obliged her command to stay silent but still moved toward her. When his hands found their place around her, he felt sick, but not seasick or ill, something pleasant.

When they pulled away, he smiled and sat in a chair. They spent the next few hours reading together, joined in silence. The craziness of the past few days had nothing in this room. It smelled of baked goods, it was warm and it was as if everything melted in the fire at the door.

"Aren't you nervous?" Maellery asked, not rising her head from her book. Aemond on the other hand shut his promptly.

"Why would i be scared? Vhagar is the largest dragon and I am the best at combat." He replied to her and she rolled her eyes at his cockiness, after all they were in a war. This was not a training session with Ser Cole, this was an actual war.

"We're at war, Aemond. We could die, people we love could die."

"They won't. When she realises how strong we are, the old cunt will bend the knee." He spat, not so much angry with her, just angry at her words. He was underestimating his power, his strength.

"What happens if she does not? hm?" she stood now, throwing her book on her chair. "Aegon is a drunken man, it would not take long to take him down. What happens then?"

"That is your king." He also stood, shouting back at her.

Before Maellery could speak any insults that flooded her head, the pair were interrupted by someone requesting her dear husbands presence. He looked at her before walking out. As her breath began to still and her head became more clear, she realised that she never said goodbye to him and he never said goodbye to her. The possibility of his death was unlikely and yet she could not shake the thought that her last moment with him was one of anger.

She ran through the keep and watched through a window, seeing the green team marching. Their green hightower banners stood high in the air, being lead by none other than Ser Cole. She watched as hundreds of knights marched, each perfectly synchronised, everything down to their steps and the swings of their arms.

She was mesmerised by the sight, the sound of their armour clanking became a comfort after a while. She had forgotten about her slight argument with Aemond until she had been left in complete silence, the only thing that seemed to fill the tension of her own mind was the maids hustling about. They never said goodbye.