Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

SEVEN

"What treachery is this?" My mother stormed into the throne room, my father trailing after her, stumbling here and there as his injury clearly still bothered him. "Why is my daughter being interrogated like a common criminal?"

"You have been summoned." Lord Lyonel Strong paused, not without the faintest bit of sympathy in his huge, dark, unblinking eyes. "Because news of grievous accusations against Princess Visenya of House Velaryon and House Targaryen have been brought to us by Ser Otto Hightower, quondam Hand of the King, and Lord Larys Strong, the Master of Whisperers. And you are here to answer these accusations."

"This is absurd!" My mother immediately stretched wide her arms and folded over me. "And as true as these two faithless evil-minded plotters are trustworthy!"

"What offense, my lord Hand, pray tell," my father latched a hand unto my mother's quavering shoulder, demanding in icy politeness, "has my daughter been accused of?"

"Lewdness and fornication."

My mother was stunned into silence, her mouth hanging open for a bare moment. Then like a provoked dragon she roared through the curdled air with implacable wrath. "My daughter is but a child! Father, how could you allow this filthiest of calumnies to be spilled upon your grandchild's innocence, and the heir to Dragonstone? To do so is the highest level of treason!"

"This is an outrage!" My father quickly joined her counterattack as his voice cracked in violent fury. "You expect us to stand here and listen to your rotten nonsense—"

"Silence before your king!" Lord Commander Ser Harrold Westerling clamored, powerfully.

"Who is the alleged paramour then? Who's the one they falsely claimed has entangled with my child?" My mother cocked up her head, glowering, eyes piercing.

"My sons." The queen intercepted, in a flat cold dead tone. "Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond."

"And have they confessed?" My mother asked incredulously. "Where are your miscreant boys? Why is my daughter the only one put on trial before the throne and the small council?"

"The Princes are, how do we put it," Lord Larys tapped his chin with an index finger, the flicker of a fathomless smile on his face making me feel as though a serpent was slithering over my naked skin. "vigorous young blood, easily strayed away by... proficient instigation. It is, of course, the maiden's prime duty to uphold her virtue, and conform to proper ways of piety and chastity."

"If your insinuations mean what you intend them to, Lord Larys, you are as much of a plotter and traitor as my mother believed you to be." I snapped, no longer able to hold my tongue. "I did not do any of these you have maliciously charged me with. And my virtue is safe as ever, if you would so kindly stop maligning it."

"You are in no place to speak unless asked to, Princess Visenya." Ser Otto shot me a baleful glance.

"And you are in no position to attend a small council session, Ser Otto." answered I, voice stinging with contempt. "Why in the name of your king are you even here?"

"Enough." The king was all ghastly pale and perspiring, leaning heavily on the armrest of the Iron Throne, speaking shakily with as much strength as he could still muster. "I will not have you quarrel like a bunch of fishwives before my ancestor's seat. Fetch my goddamned sons and bring them in! By the hair, if needed! You have my permission to do so!"

There was a long silence and all we could hear was each other's heavy breathing and panting.

Ser Arryk Cargyll came back first with Aemond. Then Ser Criston delivered Aegon, in his half unlaced breeches and a light undershirt that seemed hastily put on.