Aegon POV
"Again."
The sound of another lashing reverberated across the room, followed by the grunting noise of the dragon prince.
No. It wasn't fun consenting foreplay.
Aegon liked a little bondage as much as anyone.
But this was actual ridiculously painful torture.
Why in the name of the seven is he here, you might wonder.
Well those are his thoughts exactly.
"I'm not an expert on sharp questioning. But I'm pretty sure you need to start asking you know, the questions. Otherwise you can't get any answers."
His logical response was ignored by the big burly brute holding the whip. He wasn't particularly impressive. Black hair, dark eyes. A crooked nose and an obscenely foul odor.
Do the thugs of King's Landing have no concept of hygiene?
Look at his holding cell for example.
Stains of dried blood, shit and a few teeth and body parts thrown about.
It almost seemed too fabricated.
Even the man's strikes were incoordinated and hazardous.
Honestly.
He's seen Aemond in action. Loath as he's to admit it, his younger brother is a methodical artist.
This is a poor substitute. Though that's to his favor he guessed.
He's getting ahead of himself. He should mention how he first got into this godsforsaken mess in the first place.
Five days ago, he was sneaking back into the Red Keep before dawn. He's a gentleman and would never kiss and tell, so you can forget about his doings and with whom.
But it was truly memorable.
Not the time Aegon.
Anyhow, as he was trying not to fumble in the dark secret passages, he happened to hear a little juicy tidbit.
If Aemond really didn't want anyone listening to his secret planning, he shouldn't have opened his giant mouth, fully aware people could be eavesdropping.
So really it's his fault he's here now.
"My uncle Gwayne and I have raided three possible hideouts in pursuit of the white worm today. We found nothing."
The frustration oozed from his tone across the walls. Why he was so preoccupied with finding some insect proved to be his next question.
A wedding present for Heleana maybe. How riveting.
Aegon himself planned to gift her a bottle of vintage arbor gold. It was sold for a hefty price but the future king knew he had to make sacrifices to be Hel's new favorite brother.
And now it seemed he didn't have to work so hard after all. Aemond hasn't procured any gift and will be forced to make due with some bland book to save face.
"She is a formidable spymaster my prince. We mustn't lose hope. Sooner or later she'll fall into our web. I am sure of it." The soft and not so secretly revolting voice of Larys Strong replied to his brother.
So not an actual worm.
He's drunk alright. Give him some slack.
"It almost seems as if she knows when our agents are coming. Do you think it's possible that she has a double agent here?"
That fully sobered him up. Someone working for an enemy could be within the very heart of their base of power.
"It's an interesting idea my prince. I'll make sure no little bees are singing for another queen. With your leave."
A muffled dismissal later, the thumping sound of a cane became louder and louder until the Clubfoot left his brother to his brooding.
He didn't check to see Aemond's facial expressions but he's spent enough time with him to picture them too clearly.
At this occasion they might be warranted. If this mysterious woman is running circles around both masters of whispers then she's a force to be reckoned with.
It's Aegon's duty to find out more about her. Both for bragging rights and his own peace of mind.
The first order of business was getting a good sleep. He returned to his room, removed his clothes and fell into bed.
The following morning, he woke up with a blinding headache but thankfully recalled his plans for the day. He took a bath then popped by the kitchen.
The cooks prepared him a good hangover cure. It was trial and error until they figured out what works best.
Having drank said beverage and eaten a delicious meal, he finally left the castle on his mission.
His efforts into tracking the ghostly worm were initially fruitless. But he could never give up so easily and let Aemond get the final laugh.
So he called a few favors with a couple contacts on the street of silk. His target apparently was a former prostitute who worked in the Blue Star.
His uncle Daemon was one of her regular clients before his original exile. Since then, she's quit the skin trade and took up gathering spies to build her fortune by selling secrets and blackmailing key figures for favors.
It was quite the upgrade and he'd repect her ambitions if he wasn't certain she'd find no problem endangering his own family for even more power.
So he covered as many nooks and crannies as possible within the small window of time he had.
Three days in, he lost virtually all hope of success and just walked about the crowded place pouting, when he noticed something suspicious across the street.
The woman wore a veil and black robes but he could never mistake her.
It was Talya Appleton. His mother's lady-in-waiting. Why is she here?
Very rarely do the male courtiers show up into this part of town. Too low of reputation. Their wives will know very quickly what their goals were.
The ladies of course should just scrub the idea of lurking here from their minds. The scandal is too great.
But what on earth would his pious mother think of her lady's whereabouts.
He didn't follow her immediately into the building. He wasn't a buffoon.
What he did was return to Ser Arryk who stood next to their horses. The white cloak was an obvious sign of the Kinsguard's presence. And wherever one of them go a royal is never too far.
Aegon made sure to hire one of Dragonstone's dwellers to serve as his body double for just an occasion.
The valyrian man would draw the attention of the onlookers while the real prince rode a reasonable distance away, ready to escape, in case of any trouble.
"Don't follow me. Take Aenar and return to the Red Keep." He made no effort to hide the urgency of his commands.
"My prince I cannot do that. I'm sworn to stay by your side."
"And I am to be your king. I should not like to brand you a traitor so don't force my hand."
It was too harsh a threat but time was of the essence. Ser Arryk gulped before calling out for his replacement, shouting loudly for prince Aegon to make haste and join him.
Alone at last, Sunfyre's rider slipped quietly and without fanfare to the Black Pearl.
The open space was a suprise. From the outside it looked like a shady tavern with further entertainment options available upstairs.
What he walked into was too fancy and well adorned. Aegon asked for a drink and glanced around.
No sign of Talya. Shit.
With a quick gulp he emptied his glass and asked the barmaid for direction to the loo. He thanked her and flashed a stunning smile before walking away.
Instead of releaving himself, Aegon followed the faint sounds coming from the opposite directions. He had caught on to his mark's fluttering robes.
He barely made three steps before he felt a sharp object injuring the back of his skull.
Fuck.
"How could you... here ... What are we ... "
"I didn't ... no one ..."
He couldn't process much of what was going on as he barely regained consciousness. He was definitely chained up. His hands cuffed to a wooden plant above him.
He had no way of touching the back of his head but he knew he must've bled out if the pain is any indication.
Picking up on his state of lucidity, a huge man came face to face with him, holding a dark whip.
"Wait a second. I don't know what you're into my friend, but I don't give my consent. So put that away, please."
The fool smiled showing his yellow rotten teeth before landing the fist hit.
He cried out as his flesh flared and contorted.
An hour later, no demands were given. It was like his suffering was cause enough for his incarceration.
Why couldn't Aemond just keep his mouth shut?
Seven's sake.
Aegon started laughing out of the blue. His attacker took a double take probably questioning his sanity before laying down his torture kit.
"What's so funny?"
"You've just signed your own death warrant. Once I leave here and belive me I will, you'll be nothing but a pile of rotten burned flesh."
The man seemed amused at his threat. Gods how he'll enjoy killing him after wiping that dumb hideous smugness out of his mediocre face.
It appeared that the Gods were listening to his prayers as minutes later there was a sound of a huge ruckus.
It must something if he can hear the noise all the way here in this dungeon of horrors.
The man picked up an axe and left.
He never returned.
Only the footsteps of Aemond and the northerners were heard as they strolled into his prison like some faitytaile princes.
Well they were covered in blood, so many not an apt analogy
He wanted revenge for himself.
Now his little brother won't ever shut up about rescuing him.
Bloody hell.