Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

TWENTY FIVE

My light of all lights, how I loath to leave your side, but an urgent task that must be accomplished at once is given to me. Please forgive my abrupt departure, my precious little moon. The sooner it is done, the sooner I may come back to you. Keep safe and wait for me. It shan't be long. - Yours eternally, A.

I managed to get my eyes open, but had to squeeze them shut right away against the sudden dizziness that punched me full in the face. It took me a good few minutes to reopen my eyes to a shadowy world.

A sealed iron-and-glass oil lamp was swinging from a rusty hook on the low ceiling, making a metallic scraping noise. A faint glow flickered and swayed. I stared at it blankly. Then the fog in my brain was slowly broken. I sat bolt upright in the bed.

Where the hell was I?

I recalled that Aemond left me in the dead of night, without so much as a by-your-leave. I buried myself in paperwork to cope with depression and stress. I drank a goblet of warm honeyed milk and fell asleep amongst the scattered scrolls—

Did that sly old fox Otto have me drugged and thrown in a black cell while I slept?

The notion had me leapt from the bed all at once.

The low ceiling gave the top of my head a sturdy kiss and I staggered and fell back into the blankets. My finger touched something hard and cold. Blackfyre. I seized my sword into my hands. A great suspicion rose in me. Otto was this stupid to leave a weapon with me?

Frowning, I looked about the room.

The room was dank, cold and smelled much of old stale rotten fish and salt. The ceiling was wooden, so were the walls and floors. I crawled on all four toward the small slit window and my heart thudded to a halt in my ribcage. Outside the night sky was a dark bruised purple with an immense full moon hanging low. The moon's soft radiance silvered the smooth surface of the dark sea. A mild salty breeze ruffled my pale tresses and a coldness shivered through me, putting every hair on my body on end.

I was on a ship. Why? To where?

The creak of iron hinges almost made me jump. I immediately unsheathed Blackfyre and pointed the tip of the blade at the intruder.

"Your Grace, please, I mean no harm to you." The intruder held a silver tray of bread and cheese in his hands. I narrowed my eyes to have a better look at him under the dim yellow light.

"Ser... Erryk?" I wasn't sure whether I called the right name or not. Like everyone else, I couldn't tell the Cargyll twins apart. They looked as much alike as reflections in a mirror.

"Yes, Majesty. I thought you might be hungry." Ser Erryk put down the tray on my bed, his snowy white cloak streaming from his shoulders as he bent. I did not lower my sword, my face and voice remained granite. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation as to why I am here, ser?"

"I have the order to escort you home, Your Grace." Home. The word made a chill of premonition lick up my spine. "I must assume the home you are speaking of does not mean King's Landing?"

"Dragonstone, Your Grace." I knew the answer before it poured out of Ser Erryk's mouth.

"By whose authority?" I thought I knew the answer to that as well but I had to hear it from Ser Erryk.

"Princess Rhaenyra, rightful heir to the Iron Throne of Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." Ser Erryk confirmed my worst fear without missing a beat. My stomach churned against itself as a thousand thoughts rattled in my head like pebbles.

Home. Dragonstone. Mother. Daemon. My brothers. Freedom.

And yet, Dany, I thought panickedly, Dany would be as good as forever lost to me. Otto would order Daeron to take her back to Oldtown to be a Hightower ward... He might even hurt her... kill her to punish me if he thought that I had turned renegade on my own will. And Aemond's ire would surely follow wherever I went. Try as you might. Me and Vhagar will leave no stone unturned in tracking you down and dragging you back... Cold sweat suddenly trickled down my neck.