Burn me • Aemond Targaryen

Either, Or

Chapter Thirty-Nine~ Either, Or

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"The Brackens have betrayed us." Aegon muttered when Rhaella and Aemond entered the room.

"What?" Aemonds brow furrowed. "Amos would never,"

"Amos is dead." Otto told the prince. "His brother marched back to stone hedge, but Daemon had taken the castle under siege and Humfrey surrendered to the mercy of the blacks."

"And what are you doing about this?" Rhaella demanded of her grandfather.

The hand stuttered slightly. "I have sent letters calling lords of the realm to fealty for King Aegon." he looked to Aegon. "I have even sent out to Dorne, your grace."

"And have they replied?" Aegon snapped, marching over to his own painted table.

His was crafted by Maegor the cruel, it was topped by a thin layer of black stone, each city of westeros carved into the darkness. With light from the fire pit below it illuminating the divides between each land.

It had been Rhaella's Idea to have each firgure painted into two colours.

Green and Black.
To represent the two opposing sides. And who stood with and who stood against.

Because you were either, or,
in the dynamic of this war.
You could not be both.
And you could not be neither.

But as Aegon peered down at his war map, the colour black was infecting his table like a parasite.

"I received their reply just this hour your Grace." Otto told him. "I thought it best to open it in your presence."

Aegon looked to Rhaella, and she reached for the letter, Breaking the Dornish seal.

"Otto Hightower, hand of whichever ruler sits the iron throne for now. I recall the battle with Prince Daemon well. Dorne have danced with the dragons of your rulers before, and the only result is ash and bone. Dorne will not dance with dragons again, not while I rule it's lands, I would sooner sleep with scorpions than be a ruler of ash and bone." Rhaella read the letter to Aegon.

"He will be the ruler of nothing when I take his head." Aemond mumbled, marching to his brothers side.

Aegon held his hand out, asking Rhaella for the letter. "You have embarrassed us with your cowardice!" The kings eyes snapped to his grandsire. "Wars have never been won with pens and ravens, they were won with swords." Otto had sat down at the desk and began scrolling onto parchment in another attempt to reach out for someone to come to the kings aid. "Spill blood, not ink." Aegon snapped, kicking the leg of the desk. The black writing liquid spilt all over the hands lap.

"I feel that you are a hand suited for a calmer reign Grandsire." Aemond told his Grandfather.

"I have reached out to other houses." Otto replied, a fear setting in when he saw that he was outnumbered by his three grandchildren.

"Daemon demanded fealty." Rhaella said stepping to the other side of Aegon. "He did not ask for it, and i'm sure those who denied him are long dead."
Rhaella needed them dead. Running was doing nothing to ensure they would survive. The only way to prevent their death, was to kill.
Perhaps things would of ended differently, had she let the rational side of her mind dictate her choices rather than her temper which had abandoned sanity after the loss of her son.

The three of them stood behind the painted table of Maegor the cruel was a sight even the Gods cowered to. Each one of them demanded respect and power. The air battled for dominance when the three of them were present, without the coolness of Helaena the atmosphere was hot and ready to burn.