Kissed by Fire ~ Kissed by Steel (MAINSTORY 1) by ReginaRubie

Chapter 23 - Aemond & Ned

Aemond

Aemond sighed and closed his book, the storm outside had abated a little, and even some pale sunrays could be seen between the clouds.

He sat the book aside and leaned forward resting his elbows on the mattress and pressing his forehead against his knuckles.

It had been five days, five days since they had been washed ashore and dragged out of the sea by Daeron. His brother had been exhausted by the time the water had been washed out of his lungs on the coast of Storm's End. Exhausted and terrified.

Aemond had remembered suddenly how young he was then. Before scrambling to his feet and literally limping to Ned's unconscious form on the ground. She had been pale and cold, and Aemond had believed the worst until Daeron had, had the idea of resting the flat of his dagger's blade under her nostrils.

Aemond didn't think he ever felt such an encompassing relief as he did when he saw the metal mist over by her breath. She was alive.

Luke as well, though his life was hanging by a tread by how concerningly pale he was and how much blood he had lost from the abdomen wound.

Tessarion was wounded and still not big enough to carry four, so, despite their wishes Daeron had flown her with Luke back to the keep while Aemond carried Ned by foot.

Daeron had covered up for him, telling everyone that despite being at disadvantage Arrax had attacked Vhagar — which was true — and that the dragoness had killed him out of provocation. Still he knew they whispered behind his back, all awaiting to learn of Luke's fate, to know if he was a kinslayer or not.

By what he knew Daeron had written to their mother and to the lord Hand their grandfather, asking direction on how to move now.

But Aemond hadn't cared for all of that, the only thing he had cared for, since realizing Ned was atop dragonback in the middle of a storm and a dragon-battle was her survival.

She had not woken yet, though the Maester knew not why. Though she was less pale now than she had been when he had first found her, dying of frostbite outside the gates of the Red Keep.

Her eyes moved beneath her closed lids as if she was frantic and yet her breathing was calm and normal.

It had been clear since the moment Aemond had limped inside the keep carrying an unconscious Ned how important she was to him, a notion made even more clear by the fact that Aemond had put up the tents in the chamber they had given her and had not moved, not even to sleep and eat.

Daeron had stepped in, making Aemond feel both reassured and torn, his youngest brother was covering the slack he made. It was supposed to be the other way around.

Please, he prayed, whoever you are. The ancient Valyrian gods, the Old Gods of the First Men or the Seven... please let her return to me.