❛❛some say that the world will end in ice,
─ and others say that it will end in fire and blood.❜❜
─ I do not own Fire and Blood, I only own my characters and their plot.
❛BOOK III❜ OF THE B...
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CHAPTER TWELVE.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
( King Viserys tried to make a peace, requiring each of the boys to tender an apology to his rivals on the other side, but these courtesies did not appease their vengeful mothers. Queen Alicent demanded that one of Lucerys Velaryon's eyes should be put out, for the eye he had cost Aemond. Princess Rhaenyra would have none ofthat, but insisted that Prince Aemond should be questioned "sharply"until he revealed where he had heard her sons called "Strongs." To so name them was tantamount to saying they were bastards, with no rights of succession...and that she herself was guilty of high treason. When pressed by the king, Prince Aemond said it was his brother Aegon who had told him they were Strongs.
Prince Aegon saidonly, "Everyone knows. Just look at them.")
・CAMAELA・
THE AIR WAS THICK WITH TENSION AS Aegon, Helaena, and Camaela made their way through the dimly lit corridors of High Tide. The cold stone walls seemed to close in around them, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Ser Arthur Dondarrion walked a step behind, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows on the walls, adding to the sense of foreboding that hung over them like a shroud.
Aegon's face was a mask of barely concealed his panic, his eyes darting nervously from side to side. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a palpable fear that gnawed at him. Helaena walked beside him, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her face pale and drawn. Camaela followed closely, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of the night's events bearing down on her, a heavy, suffocating presence that threatened to overwhelm her.
As they approached the great hall, the sounds of murmured voices and hurried footsteps grew louder. The massive oak doors stood ajar, and the siblings hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The scene that greeted them was one of chaos and despair. Lords and ladies clustered in groups, their faces etched with concern and fear. Servants scurried about, their expressions grim. At the center of it all, their brother Aemond sat on a high-backed chair, his face twisted in pain.
Camaela's breath caught in her throat as she saw him. The right side of Aemond's face was a ghastly sight, the flesh torn and bloodied where his eye had been. The maester, his hands steady despite the gravity of the situation, worked diligently to stitch the wound closed. Aemond gripped the arms of the chair with white-knuckled intensity, his teeth clenched against the pain. His usually vibrant purple eye was dull with agony, and his silver hair was matted with blood.
Every instinct told her to rush to Aemond's side. Yet, she found herself hesitating, her feet rooted to the spot as she took in the sight of her brother. Incapacitated.
