KINSLAYER | aemond targaryen x oc
𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 :
[Noun.] kinslayer (plural kinslayers) (rare, mostly in fantasy fiction) One who slays his or her own kin; a parricide
THE STORY WHERE A TARGARYEN PRINCE FALLS IN LOVE WITH A STARK GIRL, HIS SWOR...
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CHAPTER SIX
AEMOND HAD BEEN AVOIDING THE girl to the best of his ability ever since that night in the training yard. He had thrown himself into his reading, studying the ancient histories of the land, and training, devoting his time to besting Criston Cole on the training yard.
Sometimes he was glad his mother had taken such a fondness to the young woman, as it meant she had no free time to seek out the company of the prince.
While Lyarra was busy being tormented by the gossip whispered by the other highborn ladies of the keep, Aemond found himself to be enjoying his own company, more so now than ever before.
The silver haired Targaryen prince had been basking in the silence of the palace library, pouring over an obnoxiously large novel, drinking in every word, which was scrawled in thick, black ink across the yellowing pages.
His fingers graced lightly over the pages, carefully turning each one, as not to damage the aged texts.
The novel before him held the histories of Old Valyria, the homeland of House Targaryen, a land which had long since been destroyed. The Doom of Valyria had happened a century before Aegon the Conquer's conquest of Westeros had begun, leaving the Targaryen's with a new place to call home.
The boy's violet eye scanned across the page, his brain taking in every word it could, taking the knowledge, and locking it withhin his brain, expanding his understanding of the subject.
The prince took great pride in his understanding of the histories of his house, he knew his brother took no such interest in the matter, so knew that it was up to him to try to supply the future king with the awareness of the origin of their forebears.
The boy was lost in his reading, his mind absorbing every word which had been written on the page before him.
He hadn't realised another body had entered the room with him.
As the other person approached him, Aemond could feel a set of eyes watching him, causing him to turn around. He knew who it was from her gentle footsteps, remebering back to when he would hide away from her, not wanting her to see the horrid way his face had looked after the incident with his nephews.
The woman placed a soft hand on her son's shoulder, pulling his attention from the text before him, "You do know the histories within these texts are not going to change, my love, there is no point in rereading them." She spoke, her voice gentle, as she moved to take the seat next to her son.
The prince shifted in his seat, carefully setting the book on the small table to his side, he sighed, lifting his hand to his eye, lightly rubbing the tiredness away.
"I know, mother, but someone in this family needs to know and understand the histories, and it certainly isn't going to be Aegon." Aemond replied, lowering his hand, resting it in his lap.
