Haven't I Given Enough? (Always The Fool) - Aemond Targaryen

17: The Butchering Block

Aemond Targaryen was going to die soon after sunrise.

He had long since come to terms with it, too. He knew what would happen the moment he offered himself to his grandsire when he came searching with accusations leveled at the remaining members of his family.

He had already lost Harlys; he would not lose his mother and sister too.

He could not help but think of his wife as he remained chained in the dungeons, waiting for the hour when the sun breached the horizon and he would be sent to his death. It would be any moment, he knew.

Had Harlys been in that very same cell during her imprisonment? He had been forbidden to visit her, though he had tried. He searched the stone floor on which he sat for any sign of his beloved, yet found none. Guilt he had carried with him since he was young, over the knowledge of Larys' crimes and the weight of what it meant to Harlys, carved a hole in his chest he was certain would never be filled. She had been everything, everything, to him for so long, losing her and knowing it was his fault was a blow he was not sure he could recover from.

How long had he known the truth? How long had he been harboring it to protect his mother? To save himself from the possibility that she may turn on him if she knew House Hightower's hand in the death of his family? Aemond Targaryen had prided himself on knowing every aspect of Harlys Strong, and yet he had never felt more unsure of how she would react. It was fear that had kept him from being honest for years—even when she pleaded with him directly.

He knew it was his fault he had lost her, but that didn't stop the ache in his heart.

He was just beginning to wonder if word about his imminent death had gotten to her when the sound of footfalls hit his ears.

"Aemond," His name was called, and he was surprised to see his brother standing on the opposite side of his cell. How he had managed to slip both his guard and their grandsire, he neither knew nor cared to. Any moment now, he would be dead, and none of it would matter.

His only saving grace was that Harlys was not in the Red Keep; the only thing guaranteeing her safety was their marriage, and even in that aspect he had failed her. Perhaps, after his death, she would be successful in supplanting Aegon with Rhaenyra. If anyone could accomplish it, he knew it would be her.

"Aemond," Aegon tried again, sounding more worried. The thought was laughable; the puppet king had sat back and allowed his strings to be pulled at Aemond's farce of a sentencing. "I do not wish to do this. I do not want for you to be killed."

"Then say it to be so," Aemond waved his brother off, not daring to hope that he alone would have the backbone it would take to confront Otto. If Aegon possessed it, he would have stood up the moment their grandsire had their mother dragged from her rooms in the dead of night and publicly accused of treason.

Aemond knew that Otto had lost his grip on reality. His execution made no sense; who would be the power behind the Greens when he died? Though, his grandsire must have realized that he would not wield Vhagar against Rhaenyra, not when Harlys wanted to see the queen seated and most definitely when his wife remained among their numbers. Perhaps Otto saw him as a threat to his power, and when Criston Cole told him of Alicent's plotting he found an excuse to get him out of the way. 

"Otto said that if I did not relent, then you would take the throne."

"He's right, brother. If I were to live, you would not be king much longer." Aemond replied, not trying to sweeten his words. He was far beyond babying Aegon. Rising from the cold stone floor, Aemond stood before his brother, only the cell bars keeping them apart. Mother above, he wished to shake some sense into Aegon. "But I would not have to kill you; bend the knee to our half-sister, first born child of our father and rightful heir to the Iron Throne."