𝙺𝙰𝙻𝙾𝙽 ° aemond targaryen

Act One, Scene Nine

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"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚕"
𝟷𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙲 - 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔
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THE CASTLE THAT WAS ONCE silent in the dead of night was filled with chaos. Everyone that was anyone was gathered in the main hall, arguing amongst themselves as the maester made quick work of tending to any injuries that the children may have suffered.

The right side of Vaella's face felt numb, the milk of the poppy easing the pain slightly, but the pole of the stitching needle still caused her to wince; it was more uncomfortable over anything. The blade had pierced through her lip, a curved line starting just below her cheekbone and stopping at her jaw.

It wasn't long after the group of children were brought into the hall that the king himself, followed by his wife and elder children, burst into the room. Alicent, ever the worried mother, rushed over to the pair getting stitched up.

"Aemond, Vaella," She said, her eyes frantic as she knelt down, taking one of each of their hands and grasping them tightly. "My darlings. Who did this to you?"

Neither responded—one not wanting to and the other not being able to form words without feeling in pain—but both turned their gaze to the Velaryon boys. Under their cousins' violet stares, they shrunk back, clinging to each other desperately.

     The kind woman that had been suturing the young princess's face finally placed down her needle, causing the girl to release a sigh of relief out her nostrils. Vaella, free now to move her head, turned to look at the boy beside her; he had it far worse than she did.

     Blood and inflamed skin covered the left side of his face, a deep gash right where his eye should have been. Upon their arrival, the maester made quick work of removing the violet orb from its socket, knowing that it couldn't be left in place no matter what he tried to do to heal it.

    She quickly reached over and snatched Aemond's free hand in her own, squeezing it tightly as a sign of comfort. He was quick to squeeze it back, his grip tightening further once the needle pierced his flesh once more.

     "How could you allow such a thing to happen?" Viserys said to his Lord Commader from his place in the Driftmark throne, his tone holding no room for excuses. "I will have answers."

     The man gulped nervously, clearly afraid of the king's wrath. "The princes and princess were supposed to be abed, My King."

    "Who had the watch?"

    "The young ones were attacked by their own cousins, Your Grace," Ser Criston said plainly, as if everyone hadn't already known, including the king himself.

    His words had the man rising from his seat, a very coursing through him as he looked between the knights. "You swore oaths to protect my blood!"

    "I'm very sorry, Your Grace." Westerlies said with a shameful bow of his head. Criston, on the other hand, didn't seem to be in the mood to be reprimanded.

    "The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, Your Grace," He said in a bored tone.

    His answer was foolish, even Vaella knew it. She looked over at the knight as the maester continued his work stitching up the prince's face, noticing how close her uncle had gotten to the younger man.