green lies, black hearts

XXXV

a/n - thank you all for your patience and for the new readers! I hope this chapter is well worth the wait :) until next time, and thank you again for 3k votes over here!

- mint

~+~

Aemond

Aemond Targaryen knelt before The Father.

His hands, scarred and crusted with old blood, remained firmly clasped-just as his mother once taught him-and he stared up at the stone face. The Maiden and Mother stared at him, but he was not looking for teachings and wisdom in mercy. There was no mercy to be found in this justice he sought. Just as there was no mercy to be found for his sister-his dear sister, the one person who had always been there for him-and her son. Her heir.

Decapitated at her feet.

Aemond clenched his jaw, nails digging into his hands until his flesh whitened and threatened to bleed.

"A son for a son, they said," his mother whispered to him, her hand shakily gripping his bicep, head tilted and voice wavering. "This is your doing, Aemond. Kinslaying has begotten kinslaying."

He stood still. The Seven had given him penance, if only through the watching of his sister suffering. His mother. His niece and nephew.

"You must make this right," Alicent demanded. Her grip tightened, and Aemond welcomed the sting of his mother's touch. "You must; if not for the realm, then for me, your mother." Her hazel eyes hardened, and Aemond had never seen such haunted shadows upon his mother's handsome face. Not even when his father died. Not even when his father would rape her in the hopes of yet another male heir because paranoia gripped him in his last years. Not even when Aemond admitted he had killed his nephew. No, Aemond had never seen his mother so empty. So cruel-never had a look crossed her face even when she rose her hand to Aegon.

"You've strayed long enough," she hissed, and he swore the Seven spoke through her now. "If you're truly my flesh and blood, you will right your wrongs, and you will defend your family and your king."

(Aemond almost wished he was king.)

"Father," he whispered up to the silent statue, "guide my sword so justice may prevail. Father, help me right the wrongs my...traitor-sister has wrought against my family. Father, lead me-"

"What do I do with this?"

Aemond smiled softly-he told himself it was a mere blessing to see an ungodly girl like Shaera Velaryon in a house of worship-as she took the lit candle from his hands. The feel of her fingers brushing against his was enough to send gooseflesh scattering beneath the leather of his tunic sleeve. A woman's touch, that was all. A bastard's.

The guidance of prayer was not one of instruction but observation. So, her question went unanswered. So often did she ask questions too. Even as young children.

Aemond hummed and he kneeled at the ring of stone, gesturing for her to follow.

"Doesn't this hurt?" she asked, though Aemond could hear the hesitation even as she kneeled beside him.

"You get used to it."

Such was the truth. He barely even felt the divots of the stones digging through his trousers and bruising his flesh.

"I don't think I would make habit of kneeling on stone floors."

If not for the piercing gaze of his Gods, Aemond swore his mind might have betrayed his trials and conjured up an image so unsavory, he would be smote with fire.