Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Thirty Nine

As Aesira and Aemond walked through the front portcullis of the Red Keep, Aesira felt a sense of nervousness and fear wash over her.

It made no sense why Aemond would be escorting her away from the Keep when Sakaris was there. She turned to Aemond and asked him "Why are we leaving? Is everything alright?"

"How do you think they were able to persuade me that you had departed? Sakaris was moved to the dragonpit." Aemond said in a low voice, pulling Aesira's hood down further to conceal her face.

Aesira's frown deepened as she replied, "But Sakaris can no longer fit into the hypogeum."

Aemond let out a sigh, "They are currently housing her in the arena. After Alis informed me that you were still here and the small folk were searching for you, I immediately set out to find Sakaris."

"Thank you." Aesira struggled to hold back her emotions. Her dragon meant everything to her, and she was touched that Aemond had prioritized her love for Sakaris as well.

Aemond gave her a playful wink, planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, and then tightly held her hand as he led her toward the outer walls of the Red Keep.

The knight standing guard asked Aemond if he required a horse, to which he replied in the negative. Aesira could feel the knight's gaze upon her, trying to discern her features despite the hood that obscured her face. She knew she had to keep a low profile and remain hidden for the time being, so she kept her eyes fixed on the ground and tried to blend in with the shadows.

"Who is that accompanying you, my Prince?" the knight queried.

"My concubine," Aemond replied casually. Aesira stifled the urge to jerk back and glare at him. For show or not, Aemond had reduced her to nothing more than a sexual object, and the knight had so easily bought into this characterization.

They walked in silence until the Red Keep was no longer visible. Aemond took hold of Aesira's hand and together they ran through the bustling streets of King's Landing. The city was still in the midst of celebrations for the coronation of King Aegon II.

Aesira could almost taste the energy and enthusiasm in the air, but it only served to fuel her anger and frustration. She was flabbergasted that these people could so easily forget about Rhaenyra and her legitimate claim to the Iron Throne, simply because the Seven Gods and the men in power had declared it so. She couldn't understand how they could be so blind to the truth and the injustices being inflicted upon her cousin. 

Aesira's heart raced as she and Aemond sprinted up the stairs of the Sept. When none of the knights on duty attempted to impede their progress, she chuckled quietly to herself. She wasn't sure whether it was due to Aemond's reputation or the intense look on his face, but either way, they were able to enter the Sept without any hindrance.

She blanched at the sight of the destroyed Sept, the collapsed floor, and the rubble of the once-magnificent doors. "Aemond, wait, I---?"

"We don't have much time, Aesira," Aemond said quickly, half dragging her to the side door that led to the arena and the hypogeum below. "We need to get to the arena."

But Aesira stood her ground, her legs and lungs burning and her face coated in sweat. "Stop. I need to see my uncle's body. I have to say His Last Rites. I need to say goodbye."

"There is no body," Aemond said, his frustration clear in his voice. "He was set atop a pyre and burned hours after his death."

Aesira's heart sank at the news. She had held onto the hope of being able to see her uncle one last time, to tell him how much he meant to her and how much she loved him. But she remained determined to pay her respects.