𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄 ~ aemond targaryen (discontinued)

19 ~ The Black Cells ~ 19

Warning: this chapter will include mentions of sexual violence and gore so if you are uncomfortable with this or may find it triggering please skip beyond the point marked with this • symbol to avoid this content.

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As we pushed deeper into the dungeons, I found myself drawing closer and closer to Aemond. Not because I was scared. But because it was cold and the sickening shivers sent skittering up my back as I locked eyes with the hungry, frothing stares beyond the bars did not help the icy air lapping at my skin.

I think he was moving closer to me aswell. I felt him pull closer after a man, closer to a creature, with limp, slick hair, and yellowed, crumbling teeth, lept at the metal with roar and reached out to snatch me with bony, taloned hands. Aemond had seized the dagger held loosely in my own fist and slashed at the extended arm with vicious precision, mirroring the leaping of a pounding viper. To protect me. Or at least, protection is what Aemond believed he was bestowing me, dismissing my own capabilities of protecting myself. The prisoner stumbled back, keening and yowling as he grasp frantically at his his gushing hand with the uninjured. The grime painted by too many years without bathing washed away in the red.

The man would die. Infection or blood loss or criters of the dark scenting his blood and knowing there was a feast to be had, something would take him soon. The man- creature- would receive no form of medical attention to remedy his hand and I don't think either Aemond, or I cared very much. He was restricted from freedom for a reason.

During our journey, as means of distraction, Aemond had explained the structure of the dungeons to me, quietly of course, so none of its inhabitants managed any ideas. It was a lesson only the true royals received as a gift of their inheritance. The Dungeons were split into four levels following a hierarchy of the criminal severity..

The first level held temporary, petty criminals. Pickpockets, drunken brawlers and the likes. The second consisted of more important captives. Highborns and valued prisoners. They received the special treatment, personal cells and all. Then, there was the Black Cells, recognisef as its own entity of the dungeons. The prince said that this third tier held the worst of the worst, as in, those who spoke against the King and committed high treason by objecting to the loyalist mindset expected of them. How dastardly! These Black Cells, however, also contained the great offenders of the most terrible crimes. And this level is where my father would be.

Aemond also mentioned a fourth level, the existence of which had only been speculated upon but was a void of no return, swallowing men up whole, never to bathe in the the light of day again. I almost wished to seek it out, just to know if it was real, just to sate my restlessly, curious mind. But I knew better than to waste my time or risk my life.

By the end of the second level, it was obvious he wasn't here. My father was of no value and as such, the second teir did not hold him. So, we trudged onwards. The steps down to the third level, to the Black Cells were winding and narrow, drilling into the earth.

I cursed beneath my breath.

"What?" Apparently, loosing sight did highten the other senses, and unfortunately, to my own inconvenience, it was Aemond's hearing that had seemingly improved.

I stared down at the steps, and the darkness hiding the bottom from view. Gods knew how far they descended.

These were truly my greatest enemy. Somehow, I found more ease in combat than descending spiral staircases.