evil eye | Aemond Targaryen

1. skyfall

the evil eye: a talisman or amulet, designed in the shape of an eye, that indicates spiritual protection against evil spirits or malicious intent.

...

"There's nothing wrong with your husband."

That was the first thing you heard from Healer Lyonel of your small village after he had changed the bandages on your husband's legs. Your beloved's body was covered with the warmest blanket you could find — one you had snuggled under during the winter. Now only his leg was sticking out from under it, the limb straightened by the wooden sticks you searched frantically for in the woods after one of the villagers shouted orders at you.

You were still thankful he did, for the sight of your husband's body — beaten, dirty, bloodied and still (oh gods so still) — froze you to the depths of your soul. Your hands trembled even now, two days later, and your knees only looked worse from when you fell to your knees after the village men came through your doors at night, dripping wet from the storm, and carrying your husband on their shoulders.

You nodded at the healer slowly, noticing your hair slipping from the bun. You were still wearing clothes from that night, your hair dirty and eyes bloodshot. The house was a mess, you only let yourself be next to the fire to cook some broth for a short time, for every sound in the bedroom made you sprint through the kitchen. Back to his side.

Yet he remained unconscious.

"He should be awake any moment now, girl," Healer Lyonel signed tiredly, most likely he was done with you knocking at his doors every hour because his breathing hitched differently. "If not, then the trauma must be too heavy on his soul and you should..." he trailed off when a sob tore through your body. His hand on your shoulder only made you hide your face in your hair.

The trauma. Yes, you understood.

That night, when you snapped out of your panic, you finally asked the villagers what happened to your beloved.

The looks they exchanged made your heart drop then. And until now no one was able to retrieve it from where you hid it beneath the bones.

"'ear, miss, ye do't—" one of the men started awkwardly, before trailing off nervously.

"Tell me," you grabbed his hand, eyes wide and agitated. "Please, kind sir. What atrocity befell my husband for him to be like this," you didn't even notice how your fingers were tightening on the man's arm, to the point of your nails biting through the wet fabric. "I need to know, I— I can pay, just please— "

He tore his arm away with a pained hiss, and you almost followed after him, like a hound on a hunt.

Then the other one, the young blond, finally decided to be upfront with you, "We do not know, miss. We found him on the edge of the forest. We suspect someone..." he avoided your face. "hurt him... badly, miss. Very badly. I've never seen such cruelty done to a man... and my pa served in the army but this—"

"—but the burns!" you interrupted him so loudly he took a step back. "How could someone do this to him on such a rainy day and without any evidence?! There must have been someone or something with him, where you found him—!"

"We suspect he ran away from the coast, at least taking the footprints into account," the oldest man interfered with a thoughtful hum. "Maybe someone kidnapped him and took him on their ship? He escaped by jumping into the water and... swam to the shore? Well, the burns are still... I mean—"

"No fella would do sucha thing so close to the village—"

"And the raiders?" asked the blond fearfully, interrupting the one whose arm bled from your nails. "That would explain the cuts and beatings, right? I mean, who else would torture—"