Through Morning's Eye

Twenty-Four: A Means to an End

Aemond glared at Criston as he swung, blocking the attacks with ease. Criston had been injured at Rook's Rest and ever since, Aemond had not felt challenged sparring with him. But in the past week, Aemond had been distracted to the point of it affecting his ability.

In the week since Daeron's wedding, he'd fucked Kristyne every day with repressed emotions. He'd been drawn to her so intensely he forgot to breathe. She intoxicated him, plaguing his every thought with those fucking tits of hers. He was addicted to her, and she could not care less for him. It was a means to an end for her.

He sometimes felt as if he was hallucinating her at times. On the training field even, he would think of her. Despite the fact that her wrist had not improved, he wished he could spar with her. She had been trained by Ser Harwin 'Breakbones' and the Rogue Prince himself, she had to be good. But that fucking wrist was not getting any better.

Aemond balanced his sword in his hand, waiting for Cole to catch his breath. He could ask a maester, but that would raise too many questions. Unless ...

Cole swung at him and Aemond grit his teeth as he incorrectly loosened his grip and let Cole's sword hit his own so hard that it bent his own wrist back. "Fuck!" Aemond hissed.

"What were you thinking?" Cole shouted. "That was one of your very first lessons. An iron grip on your sword is the most important, or this happens. Call the bloody maester!" He barked at a servant.

Aemond wanted to spit on Cole, for it was his fault Kris was injured to begin with. "Fuck off," he mumbled.

Orwyl came out onto the field, taking a look at his wrist. "It is just a sprain, my Prince. You are lucky it was not broken."

"Had it been broken, what then?" He tried asking inconspicuously.

"It would need to be set in a splint. Any broken wrist not set in a splint is at risk of healing damaged."

"Is there any fixing that?" He asked.

Cole looked over with a tilted head. "Why are you inquiring about such things?"

"It is a fair question. If the wrist had healed poorly, it would need to be rebroken and set properly. Use that as motivation not to break your wrist."

She is not going to like that.

Aemond looked over at Cole. "Am I not allowed to ask?"

"It just seems unlike you. This whole week you have been unlike yourself. Do you regret not taking a bride yourself?"

"I wish to remain unmarried, as I told my mother."

"Half a year ago, you set out to Storm's End to take a Baratheon bride. You returned with Lady Strong and suddenly wished to remain unmarried. You never answered why."

"Why is that important?" Aemond turned towards Cole with a frown. "She has been dead for four moons now, does it matter?"

"Awful defensive, Aemond. Suspicious, is it not? The first time you went to visit her and then that night someone breaks into the cells, kills the guards and her."

"You saw her body, did you not? She looked quite dead to me, Cole. You should know what she looked like, I heard about the things you and my mother did and ordered to be done to her."

"I saw you brutally murder people by the tons at Rook's Rest, and yet here you stand, hints of compassion in your voice for a traitor. Maybe I was mistaken about your intentions. Maybe she bribed you to let her escape. Maybe she ran all the way to Starfall. Or mayhaps she was picked up by a band of rapists."

Aemond had seen this once before.

'Most men would only have that kind of devotion to a cousin, a brother, or a son.'