The Passion of a Thousand Suns | Aemond Targaryen

Thirty seven: of an emerald throne

KING'S LANDING

It felt a lot like surfacing the ocean, gasping for air and struggling to hold onto something, to keep yourself afloat.

When Hira opened her eyes, her hand immediately grazed her stomach, wincing in pain as the sting of her injury increased with every movement.

All she remembered were the two men hired to murder her niece and nephews. The gleam of a knife in the dark, her blood stained clothing and Helaena holding her close as she begged for a maester.

In and out Hira's consciousness wandered to the land of the living and the other realm, fragments of both Helaena and Aemond's voices filtering in and out but nothing she could remember. It was like a loss in time and memory.

The torch light was bright against the darkly lit room, but there was enough flame for Hira to wonder if she was banished to the pits of hell, as Mysaria's beautiful face loomed over.

"Welcome back."

Hira groaned. "The children, where are they?"

"Safe. All thanks to you."

Bits of tension released from her shoulders. At least the children were safe.

"And no thanks to you." She replied grimly. "You orchestrated their assassination."

"I am but a pawn in the midst of players."

Hira scoffed. "You are no pawn, Mysaria. You and my father would have butchered innocent children if it wasn't for Shouta's warning."

"Wasn't a young prince butchered too? By the hands of your newly-made husband." Mysaria's smile was coy and Hira wanted nothing more than to slice it off her face. "Queen Rhaenyra's screams were so loud, and her vengeance even louder."

Shoving the covers off her body, Hira made a move to leave, having enough of the woman's company.

"Ah, ah, ah." Mysaria's voice was mocking. It grated her. "Not so fast, little dragon, your body has gone through a great deal these past weeks."

A sneer made its way to Hira's face, shoving Mysaria's aiding hand. Despite that, the woman wasn't wrong. Every limb ached. Everything hurt, her stomach most of all. She was clothed somewhat, with a thin shift to cover her body. Her stomach was wrapped in white cloth that was already drenched in spots of blood due to her frantic movements. An odd taste lingered on her tongue and her head felt as though drums were being smashed from the inside.

This wasn't the Red Keep, that much she could tell. It was underground, by the hints of the musky smell and barrels of lager and ale plotted around. A cellar of sorts.

What in the hells am I doing here? Where was Aemond?

Hira knew her husband would be the first to greet her, demanding it even, so where was he? In fact, where was Helaena?

"She's right."

That voice. Hira immediately stilled.

Turning, she found the familiar sight of Jade dressed in an array of grey clothes, who smiled faintly before rushing into her arms. How long had it been since she was away from her ladies and guards? She's lost track of so much time. The Lengii princess hugged her friend tightly, relieved, though she questioned why and how the Yi Ti lady was here. 

Jade murmured in her ear. "Shouta is here. Standing guard."

A smile lit up her face. "Nothing foreign then."

She missed her, missed all of them. The last time they all saw each other was during the meeting by the Painted Table, where she declared for Rhaenyra and sealed all their fates in the war. After that, she had only heard of them through the news of the burning of Oldtown.