Violent Delights (House of the Dragon- Aemond fanfic, Ewan Mitchell fanfic)

Chapter 26

Chap 26:

Aemar had been found, with a deep wound from a dagger running through his lower right torso. He recounted to the King how his attacker's face had been covered, it had only been one man and he had said nothing. They had all gathered in his guest chambers – which used to be Laenor's – as he sat propped against the pillows conversing with the King late into the night. After he had recounted the sequence of events second by second Aemar had demanded that he would speak to no one else so the room had been cleared. It was a time of high suspicion and no one could be trusted – except for the good peaceful King. The only other person allowed inside was Ser Harrold of the Kingsguard.

"My father warned me this would happen." Aemar said as the King passed him a cup of milk of the poppy with a quivering weak hand. "I never doubted him. I just assumed I would see it coming."

Viserys gave a breathless chuckle. "It is not often I am on this end of the poppy. But do drink it, it will help. I speak from experience."

Aemar gave him a smile in return. But it faded away almost as quickly as it had appeared. "You do understand there is much greater significance to my attack then meets the eye."

The King leaned forward and rested his hand on the bed. "We will find him Aemar, and he will tell us who sent him and we will find out why."

"I know why." Aemar said with absolute certainty. "Someone is plotting. And they worry that I will see it."

Viserys dropped his head, giving it a shake as he stared at the floor. Aemar was well aware all Viserys wanted was to continue his grandfather's legacy of peace. But fate was working against him. Peace came and went, that could never be avoided. Strife would come in one form or another. Life demanded suffering, and if you shielded from it in one way it found another means to get you. Protect yourself with high walls but die of some sickness. Never make an enemy in your life but drown in a sailing accident. Train yourself with the sword but end up fighting an enemy like Viserys had – his own body. Life found a way to make sure each person suffered, that was how things stayed fair, to some degree.

"You are not a failure if peace ends cousin." Aemar told him regaining his eye. "If war is destined to come we must face it with a stiff lip."

Viserys gave a sad chuckle, "That is not fair Aemar. Quoting my Aemma."

"She was wise. And she knew the way of the world. Accepted it." He said softly as he watched the King smile down at the floor again, watched his eyes change. "And you must do the same."

"How?" he spat, his voice turning fierce, "How can I accept war? Let it plow over everything and destroy the peace?"

"The peace is already lost Viserys. Wars are fought in more ways then one. And the political war has already started."

The King paused. It was obvious he had not considered that perspective. Then he looked down to Aemar, specifically, at his wounded side. The bandages wrapped around his middle, blood and poultice staining through the cloth. "Whoever did this to you will meet justice."

Aemar gave a small laugh with a smile, "I have no doubt of that. You defend your family well. All respected you in Driftmark, the night your son lost his eye."

Viserys deflated again, "Not all my family. Four of my five children are lost to me." Aemar stayed silent. "I tried. I did. But every time I look at any of them. . . I see the ghost of Aemma just over their shoulders. Her disgust that I took a new wife."

"You know that is a falsehood. She would have understood –"

"No. Aemar she would not. It was my word, my command that killed her. At the very least I should have made myself suffer alone for the rest of my days."