Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

FORTY FOUR

Without Aemond, the spacious chamber was a hollow shell of the life it once was. The air seemed to chill, as if emanated from the mouth of a grave. The tapestries were dull. The silken sheets of the bed were cold as ice when I lay down to rest at last. That night I slept little. My mind was strained with an anxious dread, and my thoughts went on dark paths seeking to imagine what things could have been. Eventually, the overwhelming fatigue and sleepiness ground me down. The next day, before the sun rose to its daily labor, I woke up with the immediate memory of a terrible nightmare that, just as quickly, escaped recall. Huffing out an annoyed breath, I quickly decided that a morning ride with Vermithor was needed to clear my mind.

To my surprise, as I descended to the courtyard in riding leathers, I caught sight of Ser Darvon and Alyn Velaryon sparring with blunted weapons, grunting each time the clangor of steel on steel sang out in the frosty morning air.

I watched silently as they traded blows, occasionally taunts that the other was hitting like a girl, which made me roll my eyes.

Sparks flashed blue-white as the long-hafted battle-axe in Alyn's grip met with the broadsword in Darvon's with a resounding crash. Alyn swiftly disengaged the axe and lined up another swing. Darvon danced back with sidesteps, trying to avoid his blade coming into contact with the axe, lest the heavier weapon snap it. Alyn raced after him, aiming a sweeping downcut. Darvon beat a metallic rhythm as his blade battled aside the axehead. They crossed weapons once, twice, and again, until they both stumbled and fell to the ground.

Wrenching off their helms and tossing them across the yard, the Velaryon cousins clapped each other on the back with good-natured laughs. I emerged from the shades of shifting green, practically making them jump like a trout from the pan.

"It's hardly necessary." I smiled cordially as they bowed low, reverently. "You are my father's son, Alyn, which makes you a brother to me. And you, cousin Darvon, you've known me since I was a toddler. It's more than early. You prefer training on an empty stomach?" I asked curiously.

"Not quite. I prefer training while nobody's watching," Alyn, more bold of spirit, grinned, almost sharkishly. Seen up close he really was my father Laenor returned from Essos. But there was something in the slightly insolent way he stared and smirked that suggested a dashing, dangerous, roguish nature. "So that when I fight for real, no one knows what I am truly capable of."

"I fear for the life of your adversary." I let out a light-hearted chuckle. "I'd love to join you for training, but my current condition expressly forbids it. Mayhaps a different sort of challenge. Will you and Silverwing join me for a ride, Alyn? It has been so long since I last saw her. It would certainly make my Vermithor very happy."

"Of course. It would be my honor." Alyn beamed and I smiled, turning my gaze toward Darvon. "Would you please fetch us two chargers, cousin? I don't feel like being confined to a palanquin today. A little fresh air will do me good."

As soon as the destriers were brought to us, I swung fluidly into the saddle, and roused the blood bay to a gallop with my spurs, racing straight toward the Dragonpit atop Rhaenys' Hill. The horses' hooves thundered against the earth, and sweet smells of the autumn harvest were all around us. We bolted uphill, and slid from the chargers.

I had no patience to wait for the great doors of the Dragonpit to creak open, I squeezed myself through the crack. Vermithor's full-throat peal sang out down the long brick-lined tunnel as I ran to his cave, where the great bronze dragon was sharing what looked like a goat with his lady Silverwing.

"Oh, ñuha jorrāelagon, skorkydoso eman missed ao." Oh, my love, how I have missed you. I threw myself at him, scratching the eye ridges as he curved his sinuous neck trustingly toward me. "Gaomagon ao miss nyke, ñuha valītsos? Gaomā, ȳdra daor ao? Sȳz valītsos." Do you miss me, my boy? You do, don't you? Sweet boy.