Born on the nightfall of a tragedy, raised with the weight of power and expectations over her shoulders, Elaenora Arryn knew her fate could not be written by the Seven, but only by herself.
Carrying the blood of both the murderer and the murdered i...
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« Family over everything »
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It was well into the night when Aemond finally managed to open his eye and regain some consciousness. The soreness in the left side of his face and the numbness in his body combined with the throbbing and sharp pain in his temple made him wish he could sleep again, but at least, the fever was not as bad anymore and he was no longer raving. And it was all thanks to Nora.
She was sat by his side, wetting the handkerchief again to press it against his skin and keep his scar clean. Dark circles were starting to plough the area under her eyes and her breathing had become slower. Still, that did not discourage Elaenora in the slightest from focusing her whole attention on him.
Aemond could not remember the past hours due to the delirious state he had been submerged in, but he could recall Nora being by his side at every minute. Her words from before in the other room echoed in his memory — the way she had defied the King's words to defend Aemond, the way she had asked for justice in his name, the way she had not shrunk from stating the truth before all those people despite going against Rhaenyra. All just for his sake.
"How are you feeling?" Nora whispered as soon as she noticed that he was awake, rubbing the handkerchief over his wound with a gentleness that reminded him of the touch of a feather. No one but her was ever this gentle with him.
Aemond took some seconds before answering. The idea of describing how he felt, the outrage and impotence that ran through his veins, at that moment sounded like a more difficult quest than facing an enraged dragon.The desensitized feeling in his chest numbed him — as if what happened to him had been inflicted upon someone else and Aemond had simply been forced to be a spectator in his own tragedy. That pungent sensation of not belonging to anyone or anything that corrupted his insides after being wronged by his own family burnt him deeper than any other offence he had ever faced at Targaryen hands. It was simply too much turmoil in his mind to explain, something that took root in the depths of himself rotting them and making them bleed. The scar left inside him was, without doubt, deeper and more painful than the one he bore in his face.
"Better. My face still hurts, but it has become bearable," he mumbled after a while. His gaze sorted all over her expression, taking in her tired eyes and the faint pale hue in her skin. "You should sleep."
Elaenora huffed and immediately shook her head. "No, not when you are in this state."
Aemond sighed. "Nora... "
"I am not leaving you, Aemond. Not right now," she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.
A heavier exhale left his lips and he rolled his eye at her stubbornness, but ultimately, he knew there was nothing else he could do to convince Elaenora to take care of herself as well. The boy leaned back against the soft mattress and felt the sting of the stitches in his scar. He could not help but raise his hand and brush the burning wound with his fingertips. The sensitive skin was hot and irritated, rough to the touch and tight due to the stitches.
