The Passion of a Thousand Suns | Aemond Targaryen

Thirty three: poison of the mind, poison of a blade, poison of innocence

KING'S LANDING

AEMOND

Aemond screwed his eye shut, trying to clear the insistent buzzing noise that clouded his mind. The loud, erratic pounding of his heart that he was sure Helaena could hear, even across the hallway.

How could he let this happen?

Those fucking bastards.

"Aemond?"

His eye snapped open. Taking a deep breath, he realised it was his mother who called out his name. She was haggard, a stitch evident on her forehead and blood covered her nightgown.

"You should return to your chambers and ..."

She kept talking but the words merely made his head murkier and the static was far too overwhelming to understand what she was sprouting about. Aemond blinked and blinked again, tried to move his mouth but nothing came out. Not a whisper, nor a sound.

Helaena crossed the corridor to stand beside their mother. She too was a sickly colour and grim faced, splatters of blood decorating her garments.

His sister, sweet, dreamer Helaena, who should've predicted this, should've known this would happen. Could've prevented Hira from getting fucking stabbed like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Sit down, Aemond, you're about to fall over."

He growled, shoving her hand away.

"Just sit, Aemond." She demanded, towering over him. She grasped his shoulders, pushing him to sit. She sniffed, her expression falling flat, shattering as the bravo left her. "You're scaring me."

There were words he wanted to spit out, harsh, hurtful words that he knew in a million years he would never say to his sister, things he shouldn't say at a time like this. So he didn't.

He imagined Hira strolling through the doors of the maester's infirmary, screeching to be released from their clutches. In his mind, he could see her scowling, demanding not to be touched and simply be left alone. His brave, courageous Hira.

"It's barely anything grave," She'd roll her eyes. "Stop crying."

And he would laugh. Helaena would laugh and they'd be free from the burden of this pain, of this treacherous waiting, lost in a limbo of questions, of not knowing and endless pleading.

When he first heard of the attack, he cursed Aegon for keeping him late into the night. He ran to his mother's chambers, where he was met with a bloodied scene. Two male bodies brutally assaulted, later finding out it was Helaena and Hira's doing. Then, charging to the maester's infirmary to await the news of Hira's condition. That was almost an hour ago.

He loathed waiting.

If those men weren't already dead, Aemond would've hunted them down like the mutts they were. Would have gladly given them a red smile from ear to ear. Hung their heads above the battlements. Butchered their families until their name, their house, everything that made them people were dust.

He could vaguely hear Helena say something to their mother, before she walked away, escorted by guards. Two others remained by Helaena's side.

"An eye for an eye. A son for a son." Helaena murmured. "That's what he said. A debt was owed for Lucerys' death. An unpaid debt, because both my sons live thanks to Hira."

She pointed at the door that separated them. "And now she's in there fighting for her life because of your actions."

"My actions?" His heart lurched. He was ready to explode, ready to argue that it wasn't his fucking fault. That he wasn't the one to impale a blade in her. He didn't lurk into the Keep to stage an assassination, where in the hells did Helaena have the fucking gall to say that to him?