Nefarious || Aemond Targaryen

18

Hours must have passed since the moment Marcus left, for the sun has now set on the horizon and the once bustling castle was ever so silent. Aemma had skipped dinner, the slice of cake she had had earlier on in the afternoon had been more than enough to fulfill her need to eat for the remainder of the day. Lately, she has had no appetite whatsoever to eat, feeling sick a wave of nausea hit her after every meal she had.

The Queen had noticed her peculiar behavior and wondered of there was anything that she could do to get the girl to eat, for she had always been thin, but now, she noticed that the princess's cheekbones were more hollowed out, meaning that she had lost some weight. Aemond had noticed as well, and although he would never admit it to anyone, he was slightly worried for the health of his niece.

The sun was no longer casting a shield of warmth in her direction, it was dark outside and Aemma was now cold, for it was winter. Finally, after countless hours, she decided that it was time to head back to her chambers for she didn't want to get sick.

As she trudged through the corridors, out of the corner of her eyes she could see that the maids would turn to whisper something to each other, no doubt about her. She was well aware that she hadn't been her best self lately, and normally she would care about what was spoken of her, but now, she didn't have the strength to care.

As she walks down the dimly lit corridor, a chill runs down her spine. She cant help but feel as though someone, or something, was following her. Turning around, she sees that nobody was there, save for the flickering flame on the torches placed on the walls casting eerie shadows.

But still, the feeling persists. It is as if there is a presence behind her, a whisper of breath on the back of her neck. Quickening her pace, her heart pounds in her chest. The feeling of being watched is almost suffocating, and she can't shake the sense of unease that has settled over her. As a princess of the realm, she was well aware of the constant danger she faced, that being the motive a guard were to be with them at all times. She suddenly regretted dismissing Ser Criston all those hours ago.

Taking a deep breath, she turns around again, this time more slowly. And there, just for a moment, she catches a glimpse of something, a shadow, a flicker of movement before it disappears again into the shadows. Her mind races with curiosity. Who could be following her? Then it suddenly dwells on her. If something bad were to happen to her, it would have happened already, the figure was following her for too long to be someone who wished to do her harm.

Gathering the courage, she finally speaks up. "Who is there?"

Nobody answered her, just as she figured would happen. She was about to resume to her chambers when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement once again. A person came out of the shadows. Scoffing when she saw who it was, she didn't know how she wasn't able to figure out beforehand.

"Lord Strong, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." she spoke out, sarcastically of course, for she never liked him. She had always had a feeling that he had something to do with the fire at Harrenhal that had killed Ser Harwin, her supposed father.

"I was wondering how long it would take the princess to come to her senses."

"I would like to ask you something." Initially she had intended on asking him what he knew of the fire in Harrenhal, but her mind had other ideas and she quickly changed her ideas.

"Of course."

"What do you know of Ser Criston and my mother?" she asked. If there was one person inside the castle walls who knew something, it was him.

"What makes you think I know something?" he asked back, raising his eyebrow.

"You spend your days lurking in the shadows, you've ought to hear things others don't, am I wrong?"