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CHAPTER THREE

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CHAPTER THREE

AEMOND TARGARYEN WAS SAT IN THE chair before the wide fireplace. The orange flames casting a warm glow over his sharp features.

He stared blankly at the page before him, not taking in the words written on it. He could feel his mind begin to wonder, his thoughts returning to the feast that evening. To her.

Aemond hated to admit it, but he was intrigued by the Stark girl. He found himself unable to think of much else since she had arrived. The way she had spoken back to him, in a way no lady at court would have dreamed of speaking to him, for fear of the punishment which may have followed.

His eye drifted across the page once more, determined to take in the words he was reading, but it wasn't working, his brain was in no mood for literature tonight.

The young prince decided he had had enough of this torture, so he pulled on his boots, grabbed his sword, and made his way towards the door to his rooms.

The door creaked open, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. The young prince peered down the corridor, his eye searching for any sign of life.

Once he was sure there wasn't another soul wondering the castle, he slipped out of the door, closing it gently behind him to ensure it didn't slam shut and disturb his siblings in the room next to his, although he was sure Aegon probably wasn't even there.

He knew his brother rarely stayed in the rooms he shared with their sister, and Aegon's wife, Helaena.

After one final check of the hallway, the silver haired boy made his way through the various corridors, his boots tapping softly against the stone floor as he went.

After a few minutes, he arrived at the large archway leading to the training yard. A cool nights breeze blew gently, the slight chill piercing through the thin fabric of his cream undershirt. He hadn't bothered to put his tunic back on, knowing he would be the only body awake.

Aemond descended the steps leading to the courtyard.

He wandered around the desolate area, his eye trailing over the various pieces of  equipment which lay strewn across the yard, his only source of light coming from the moon, who's beams shone brightly over the sleeping palace.

Aemond came across one of the dummies which was already set up, having been left over from his training session earlier that day.

Sword in hand, the prince suddenly lunged at the prop, slashing at it with the weapon.

The dull thuds of his sword hitting the straw man sounded throughout the yard, the low grunts of the boy often accompanied these sounds, his body soon warming from the movement of attacking the dummy.

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