Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

ELEVEN

My years at the Stepstones earned myself a monumental reputation as a battler, but simultaneously an unsavory one. Dark rumors, lies, and queer tales were spreading through the Kingdoms, avouching I was a poisoner and a sorceress, a stony-hearted murderess. According to the canards, I apparently coated Blackfyre with manticore venom and Valyrian blood magic to torture my foes with particularly slow and painful deaths, I roasted and boiled my captives for sport, I cut them up into pieces and fed them to my dragon, I bathed in the blood of pillaged virgins to retain youth and beauty...... I was no longer the cherished Light On the Tides, but the Lady of Dread, She Who Bleeds the Seas Red.

The day we returned to the Red Keep to petition for Jace's rightful inheritance as the next Lord of the Tides was the day I felt the weight of such calumnies upon my shoulders.

I left the capital a maiden merely flowered, and returned a full grown woman who spilled too much blood. Dressed in the same dramatic black and red body armor of plaited leather, a steel circlet of rubies, garnets and onyxes on my brows, I knew I looked no less stunning than the day I departed. Yet this time no one dared to look in my direction and admire my countenance, as if one look from me would kill, one word from me would cast the darkest shadow upon their existence.

Daemon and I stood beside my mother when Ser Steffon Darklyn announced our arrival. "All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, and her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen." We quickly glanced at each other as we noticed the lack of Targaryen heraldry on the walls of the Keep. The situation in King's Landing was graver than we initially imagined.

My parents and my baby brothers Aegon and Viserys retired to their quarters, awaiting an audience with the king and the queen. Afterwards my mother and Rhaena would go seek a bargain with Princess Rhaenys, who brought Baela with her, in an attempt to install her as the rightful heir to Driftmark and the Driftwood throne.

I took Jace, Luke and Joffrey with me, wandering around old places we used to play. But everywhere we went, we were loomed over by the shadows of symbols of the Faith of the Seven, not the mighty three-headed dragons of the Targaryen dynasty. It irritated me to no end.

The boys wanted to visit the training ground. Leaps of intuition cautioned me against it, but my brothers practically dragged me to it.

Then I saw him.

Aemond had always been a pretty boy, with the other-worldly fine features and the elegant, lithe build typical of Targaryen descendancy. But now he was a man, he was striking. Tall, sinewy, with indigo eye and silvery hair flowing like liquid metal in a flood down his shoulders, he kind of looked like my father in a way, both so inhumanly beautiful they appeared to be closer to Valyrian gods than mortals. But there was something cold and harsh about Aemond's demeanor now. And one glance was enough for me to recognize him as a dangerous swordsman, a damn good one.

I watched Aemond move and carry his attacks with easy grace, swinging the blade across the air with impressive strength and speed, forcing Ser Criston into his final submission.

When Ser Criston applauded Aemond's performance, stating that he would be winning tourneys in no time, to which the prince simply replied "I don't give a shit about tourneys", I hurried Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. "Boys, we have to go."

It was too late.

Aemond's ice cold voice sounded behind me. "Nephews... have you come to train?"

"Don't look back." I warned them. "Let's just go."

"And you, niece? You seemed suitably attired enough." I heard a ripple of whispering across the crowd at Aemond's words. Descriptors such as "poisoner," "sorceress," "killer," "butcher," scraped my ear drums.