Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Thirty

"I want to see the King," Aesira demanded, not caring about the sharpness in her voice.

"And as I have already informed you. You cannot see him today, he is resting." The Queen rubbed her brow as if to ward off a headache. She grappled to hold onto the grace and calm of her station in the face of Aesira's unrelenting demand. She wanted to appease the girl, but her hands were tied.

"I want to see the King." She demanded again. The Queen had promised her that she'd seen him and still, she was denied. Aesira had showed up at the King's doors at the crack of dawn, beating even the first light of the sun. She'd stood, with her arms folded across her chest, and waited for the Queen, for the maester, for the small folk, for anyone with the authority to let her into the chambers.

"What do you want from me, Aesira?" The Queen, finally having had enough, gripped her arm and tugged her away from the doors, and further into the stone passageway, "He cannot see you, he is resting. Are you incapable of understanding such a simple thing?"

Aesira yanked her arm from the Queen's iron grip, "You cannot bar me from my uncle."

The Queen narrowed her eyes, "Is that what you think I'm doing? Do you think it brings me joy to see my husband, your King, in so much pain that he cannot bear to be left awake?"

Even though she could hear the strain in the Queen's voice, could see the sorrow in the Queen's eyes, could feel the tremble in the Queen's hands, Aesira felt no sympathy for the pain of the Queen's own making.

"I cautioned you, Your Grace. I cautioned about the toll this journey would take on the King." Aesira sneered, blinking slowly. "You should have considered my words with more care."

The slap came fast and hard. The Queen's hand struck Aesira across the cheek, turning her face away from Queen with the force of it. Aesira could taste iron in her mouth, where her inner cheek had split against her teeth.

"You forget your place, Aesira. My good-daughter might have conditioned you to think that the laws of the Realm bend to your whims and wishes, but it does not." The Queen hissed, her hand still held aloft beside them. There was no humour in her expression, just icy-cold rage.

Aesira held the Queen's acidic stare as she spat the blood that had pooled in her mouth onto the polished floor. The Queen's disgust was worth the pain of her stinging cheek, a thousand times over.

The Queen shook her head then peered over her shoulder, "Ser Criston, please escort the Lady back to her Chambers. It seems her hours in this hallway have left her fatigued."

"Yes, my Queen." Ser Criston's armour clinked and scratched as he stepped around the Queen, waiting for Aesira to begin walking before he dragged her. There was an expectant look on the Queen's face, waiting for Aesira to ask if she was remanded to her Chambers. But she wouldn't ask, because it wouldn't matter.

Aesira held her tongue on the short walk back to her Chambers, not looking at or acknowledging the stone-faced knight who walked beside her. Not even as they passed Prince Aegon, who frowned at seeing the Queen's sworn protector at Aesira's side. But Prince Aegon—never one to care for anyone but himself—shrugged and moved on as it was the most natural thing in the world.

Wordlessly, Aesira strode into her Chambers and then slammed the doors shut. She waited with her ear pressed against the door until she heard the clink of Ser Criston's armour as he walked away. She tugged on the handles and found them bound. He'd sealed the doors.

Nodding to herself, Aesira backed away from the doors, marched to her armoire, and fumbled with the knot of her dress, that sat at the base of her neck. She wanted to get out of the dress but Alis had tied the damned knot too tightly. So she pulled the dagger from its sheath on her calf and cut the dress from her body. Aesira didn't care about the red dress any more than she cared about the Queen and her machinations.