The True and The Brave

𝔉𝔬𝔲𝔯: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔊𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔰

[AN: As you have known my writing for quite a while some of you might notice that I always have hidden meanings. Even in the slightest things. All I can say is that the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself. Indeed, my girl, Aemma was poisoned but I had two riddles thus far: When isn't a mastermind scheming? and now the unsolvable mystery...who poisoned Aemma Velaryon and why. I am a complete fan of mysteries and unexpected plot twists.. so do try to solve it, if you dare] [ALSOOOOO....before I can forget. A wonderful friend and fellow reader, has taken the time to translate this work from english to Italian:

Thank you for taking time time and help me reach at those people that unfortunately I cannot even fathom trying!] (you are truly gettng better at commenting and liking this story and I absolutely love it)

(Content Warning: Blood and well...feelings?) 

I highly recommend reading the final part of this chapter with Ramin Djawadi's The Crown of Jaehaerys (for more spice and dramatics)

Aemond Targaryen did not know how to handle the blistering pain that settled on his soul. Did not know if he was to blame. A  fraction of himself only blamed his pure malice and wanton revenge. His prideful revenge. That would be the first one flaw that would taint his skin, as if he were a tarp for a an artist to paint more flaws. He had been too prideful. Had been blinded by revenge. Had been blinded by rage and fury. 

He inspected his hand shakily. Dried blood caked his knuckles. It was his fault. It was entirely his fault. And no other pain could compare to how his soul was ripping itself. How his heart was demanding that pain to be felt. A pain that was lodged so deeply he couldn't know if he'd survive it. If he could survive a life without her in it. 

Aemond sat outside their chambers. His head was inbetween his hands. His back pressed against the damp cold stone of the outside wall of their chambers. One second Aemma had been there holding his hand...and the other. She had just collapsed. And he didn't even notice it until he saw past his rage, anger and vengeance. 

He hit the stone floor, the skin within the ebbs of his knuckles had opened again. He brought the other palm of his hand to his forehead. But remembered those final moments. Whose blood had been on his forehead. 

Aemma Velaryon had collapsed from under her mother. Rhaenyra tried calling her name, as if she would regain the use of her counciousness. He had never heard a mother wail like that. For that very pain of outliving a son or a daughter. Aemond was quick to push past Daemon, past his mother who tried to hold him back, or past Haelena who tried to shield him from the view. 

Because it was Aemma who laid there. A river of blood stained her cheeks and lips. Aemond did not know how many hands rested on his shoulders. He just wanted to reach for her. Feel the warmth of her skin. The thing that fell and rose in her chest. Wanted to see for himself. Had owed her to be next to her. 

"Aemma! Aemma!"

Rhaenyra collapsed too, holding her daughter. 

"Who did this? Who did this! Where is the fucking Maester!"

But Aemond had been too distraught from her wails. He slowly took her body into his arms. Tears had long marred his cheeks. Pooled and fell. He did not care as sob racked his body as he pressed his forehead to her face. Aemma was everything that mattered to him in this world. The only one who understood him. Who saw him. Who loved him. 

"Prince Aemond, we have to take her body for revision...the baby could be in breech", Maester Orwyle said, trying to get the guards to take the woman to the chambers.