Aemond Targaryen lived to become a weak old man, withering in the cells underneath Dragonstone. One mistake caused a lifetime of pain.
Losing Baelon, was the start to the end of the Hightowers. But it wouldn't be the end of them.
Alys Rivers a wit...
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。.✦ ☾
Aegon stood at his pregnant wife's side, his hand on her aching back as the two stepped through the winding hall of the castle. Helaena radiated with warmth and serenity, even in the presence of her usually drunken husband. Something about carrying her first child brought her peace. "The bassinet is beautiful, you have a true eye for beauty." Aegon admits to his wife, allowing her to lean into him.
Helaena hums, her hand falling on top of his, squeezing tightly. "Thank you, husband, I had it crafted when I heard the news. I was too excited and I couldn't help myself." Helaena states, not at all bothered by her lie.
Aegon hums, he found it odd that she would get out of her way to have something made, something so intricate. "I'm glad to hear that this pregnancy brings you excitement and joy. I heard that most women fall into an anxious depression." Aegon says as he eyes her face. Helaena sighs, "I must admit, I have been wary for most of it, but the gifts and the attention have been an unexpected welcome. Not to mention the bassinet." Helaena states with a delicate smile.
Aegon's eyes soften. "I hope our child has your smile...You should smile more, it suits you." Aegon says
Helaena chuckles, her smile widening. "You should be sober more, that suits you." Helaena admits
Aegon's smile briefly wavers but he broadens it. "I promised the child, that at the very least I'll be sober during your months of pregnancy. I want to remember it." Aegon says, his hand lowering so his knuckles graze her stomach.
"I'll hope you'll be as brilliant of a father." Helaena admits, pressing his hand closer, allowing him to feel the movements of the child. Aegon's eyes glowed at the soft kicks, a smile lingering on his lips.
....
Stepstones.
Baelon grunts as he yanks out his sword from the corpse's body, his dark eyes watching as it is torn in half. The screech of his dragon brings him out of his stupor, forcing his gaze to the sky. His eyes widen when he spots a scorpion spear embedded in his large wing. Baelon curses and he begins to run towards an elevated cliff.
"Vermithor." Baelon roars
With a grunt, he lunges forward and lands harshly on his dragon's tail. Baelon doesn't allow himself a moment before he's running the spine of his dragon, jumping towards his trembling shoulder. Baelon's eyes land on the spear and he carefully inches forward, making sure he doesn't accidentally tumble off his moving wing.
From below, Reckon watches Baelon slowly reach for the scorpion spear, his eyes widening.
Suddenly he hears a sharp hiss and his gaze lowers and spots a group of Dorne men preparing a second spear. With a grunt he commands his dark stallion forward, unsheathing his sword.
Baelon grunts as he finally grasps the splintered wood, tugging harshly. Vermithor roars, causing his body to tremble. Baelon gasps as he slides forward, thankfully he has a firm grip on the spear. The warrior prince hanged dangerously off his dragon, with only the spear as leverage. With gritted teeth, Baelon strains his arms as he slowly pulls himself up.
