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14 / GODS & MONSTERS
Maelora found herself in Rhaenyra's old chamber.
The young Princess had no idea about the time she came there or more importantly, how she got there. It felt like there was an invisible string that was pulling her to this very empty room. This was the place where she shared an innocent kiss with Aegon for the first time, which soon turned into something much bigger than her brain could comprehend. It was the very first push, then her life tumbled down like dominos.
This time, Maelora was there to mourn after her loyal guard Corren.
Guilt and grief had a blurry line. They both transferred into various things: a treacherous ocean that threatened to consume her, a dagger that cut deep into her soul, a suffocating grip around her throat, an incessant itch that begged to be scratched. But the thing was that grief might have faltered, even disappeared over time but the guilt was always there, feeding and cutting, and haunting. Grief found solace in the corners of her heart, but guilt, elusive and unanchored, wandered aimlessly. It came from nowhere and therefore it didn't have anywhere else to go.
"Mae," A voice called out her name calmly. "Don't get too close to the edge."
Maelora remained motionless, her body as numb as her grieving heart. Her vacant gaze remained fixed on the ground beneath her, a dark shroud of morbid thoughts and sorrow enveloping her mind like an impenetrable mist.
Corren was dead. She would no longer see him waiting for her in front of her chamber doors. He would no longer walk beside her in silence like her shadow. She would no longer walk around with a confidence that stemmed from his protective presence.
Her guard was dead. Her friend was dead.
Aemond stood tall against the balcony door; his hands interlocked behind his back with an air of poised confidence. He possessed an uncanny talent for blending into the background, despite his commanding presence that naturally drew attention.
"How did you find me?"
A mixture of shock and concern etched deep lines across her twin's face, casting a shadow upon his normally composed expression. He parted his lips, ready to utter words of concern, but before he could say anything, a snort interrupted him, "This is promising. She is certainly not a second away from jumping."
Maelora's turned her head, brows furrowed, eyes disoriented and alarmed. A few steps away from Aemond, Aegon sat in a chair, exuded a nonchalant air, holding a cup of wine between his fingers, his ringed thumb tapping on the metal goblet in a rhythm.
