"why would I choose one? I want them both, so I'll have them both. ask me again and I'll have one kill you. "
"..."
"you're dismissed."
{ in which the daughter of Rhaenyra bewitches the two Green princes and single-handedly make...
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{ and prayed to god you'd be coming home all right }
"Where is he?" She screeched and threw a vase at the stone wall, little pieces flinging in every direction as it shattered. The Queen's handmaidens flinched but carefully tried to approach her. As soon as the adept swordswoman noticed their approach, she raised her blade warningly as they circled her.
"No, no, get away! Bring me to him! Now!" She yelled, and her voice echoed off the walls. Melara looked at her queen with pain as she glanced at the maester from the corner of her eye.
"Your Grace, you must calm yourself. The king consort is injured, but he will be back soon," she tried to reassure, but Valyria just shook her head.
"Not him." Then she locked eyes with Melara, and there was a raging fire evident to the maid.
"Bring me Aemond. Now."
Two Days Earlier
Valyria sat in her chambers, staring down at a letter from Helaena in Winterfell. It detailed her trip to the cold land and the status of the North. As she expected, Valyria could count on Lord Cregan to support her when the time came. Additionally, Lucerys was faring nicely and had reportedly developed a friendship with the young Rickon Stark.
That pleased Valyria, but she wished her kin was still with her. She was all alone in Kings Landing now, without Helaena, Lucerys, and...
Her family.
She sighed, then cast her quil aside, standing abruptly. Her handmaids stood as well, halting their mending.
"Your Grace?" Melara questioened.
"I think...I wish to be left alone. I shall return later."
Once Valyria closed the doors of her chambers, she looked side to side, then took off down the hallway. She knew the Keep like the back of her hand, and within moments, she was at a familiar set of doors.
Without knocking, she entered and saw a shirtless one-eyed Targaryen prince. He stood in front of his dresser polishing his sword, and looked up into his mirror when she abruptly entered.
"Valyria?" He placed the sword down, but Valyria walked in hesitantly, sure to close the door behind her. She had to keep herself from raking her eyes down his pale chiseled body. Aemond was a warrior, and it showed with every muscle.
"You missed a spot," Valyria pointed out, then boldened and walked over. She stood beside Aemond, who towered over her, watching her moments curiously, while she took the cloth and wiped a blood stain.
"I remember this sword," she murmured as she held it up. The feel was familiar, and she looked up at Aemond to see him smirking.
"It was the sword you killed that Lannister with. Your first kill, at The Princess' Hunt." She smiled halfway, remembering the satisfaction she had felt when she sliced his neck, and his body slumped to the ground.
