Burn me • Aemond Targaryen

Chaotically Beautiful

M

Chapter Forty-Six~ Chaotically Beautiful

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When Aemond arrived at rooksrest, The sight before him was nothing but ash. Homes, taverns, craft shops, brothels, and market stalls, all burnt down into black powder.

Then he saw his wife, he knew it was her by the way she held her knife. Her hands were bloodied and her clothes covered in smoke. He wondered what havoc she had inflicted upon this small village.

But even now, as she plunged her dagger into the neck of some innocent man, she still looked beautiful. Flames roared behind her, under the setting sky, Her blood red dress matched the crimson that leaked from the bodies of the pile she had built up.

He was sure he'd never loved her more.

"Your Graces." Cole exclaimed as he approached Aegon and Aemond. "I have warned the Princess that this is not the most suitable way of ensuring the three of you go undetected." He turned to see Rhaella kill yet another with her blade. "But she,"

"She is doing the Kings bidding." Aegon interrupted. "I warned anyone who turned against me would feel the sharpness of death."

"Your grace,"

But now Aemond interrupted. "The position of hand was taken from my Grandsire because he was far to cautious in his endeavors, it was given to you in hope that you would not be afraid to get your hands dirty." He looked again to Rhaella. "But it seems Princess Rhaella is the person least afraid to kill on behalf of his grace, Should King Aegon remove that pretty little pin from your cloak and give it to my Wife?"

"No, my Prince." Cole gritted out before bowing and shouting for his men to join him in setting the felid of crops on fire.

Aemond left to join his wife, who seemed to be whispering something horrendous to a man that knelt before her mercy. "Did mother never teach you not to play with your food?" Aemond whispered against her ear as he took his place behind her.

"I enjoy the game." Rhaella replied.

"Just kill me bitch." The man that knelt before her snapped. "Kill me and be done with it."

"The problem is with you common folk, is that you were never taught any etiquette." Aemond sighed, snaking his hand down Rhaella's arm until the blade was in his grasp. "Have you no respect?"

The man scoffed. "I do not respect whores." He mumbled. "The seven hells shall have your lives for this, you will all die for this treachery, I know who you are, and who you seek the true heir will have your heads, you will all burn, burn in the flames of your forefathers and,"

Blood slapped the skin of Rhaella's face, her eyes closed on instinct in an attempt to guard the iris from the attack of crimson. And when she opened her eyes again, a small burst of passion could be heard in her heart. To any sane mind, the sight of the wrath edged upon Aemond one eyed Targaryens face, would be one to make them freeze in fear.

But Rhaella was no sane mind.

The way her husbands hands gripped onto her blade and drove the metal into the side of this man's head, had her thinking the most twisted and sadistic thoughts anyone ever had.
She watched in admiration as he pulled the blade from the man's head, then he plunged the metal into the man's neck over and over again.

Neither of them would ever be able to explain the feeling murder gave them. It was as if sanity had abandoned their carriage of life and allowed wrath, loathing, and chaos to take the reigns so they could be driven down the road to madness.