Love Is The Death Of Duty • Aemond Targaryen

29.

The days blur together in the dark, damp dungeon. Time has become an enemy to Maegor, each hour a relentless reminder of his entrapment. Sometimes he paces around in circles like a caged lion, but most of the time he sits hunched over in the corner of his cell, his back pressed against the uneven stone wall. He can feel the moist air clinging to his skin, the dim light from the torches flickering weakly, casting shadows that seem to crawl along the floor. His mind, once sharp and clear, now feels foggy and sluggish. He has spent every waking moment trying to think of a plan, some way out of this place. But no matter how hard he tries, every idea crumbles beneath the weight of reality.

He knows he cannot stay here forever. He knows he must act. But every attempt to form a coherent strategy ends with frustration, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. Every time he tries to think of an escape, the bars of his cell mock him with their solidity, their permanence. The weight of the iron around him feels suffocating, like a physical chain wrapped around his very soul.

His mind drifts back to Aemond, the last ray of light that keeps him going. Maegor's thoughts oscillate between longing for Aemond's touch and the bitter reality of being locked away from him. He knows his uncle must be devastated, not knowing what happened to him. What's keeping him so long from their reunion.

 He wishes more than anything to be with him, to seek comfort in his presence, but here he is, trapped in the shadows while the world moves on without him. The rage that simmers beneath his skin boils and subsides in waves, but he knows one thing for certain—he will not remain here for much longer. One way or another, he will escape or he will die trying.

Days have passed since he was thrown into the dungeon, but it feels like a lifetime. His muscles ache from disuse, his body weakened by confinement. Every sound that echoes down the stone corridors outside his cell makes his heart race, his instincts on edge, always ready to pounce, to fight if necessary.

Then, one day, there is a sound that cuts through the stillness. Footsteps. But not just any footsteps. There are multiple pairs, hurried and heavy, approaching his cell. Not the methodical march of the guards, but something faster, more erratic. Maegor lifts his head from where it rests on his knees, his eyes narrowing as he listens closely, his instincts on alert. A low, bitter chuckle escapes his lips as the steps grow closer.  

He knows these footsteps. Familiar, yet filled with fury.

As the figures step into the dim light of the torches, Maegor's suspicions are confirmed. Jacaerys, flanked by Baela and Rhaena, stand just outside the bars of his cell. Their faces are hard, etched with anger and sorrow, and they stare at him with burning hatred. Maegor meets their gazes with a cold indifference, shifting slightly in the shadows, but he remains seated, silent in his corner.

The tension in the air is palpable, thick and bitter like poison. He tries to force himself to remain calm, to ignore them. But the hatred radiating from them is like a physical force, and it makes it hard to pretend they are not standing in front of him.

Jacaerys steps forward first, his face contorted with anger. His hands are clenched at his sides, and his entire body seems to tremble with the barely-contained rage. 

"Look at you. Locked up like the beast you are." Jacaerys spits, his voice dripping with venom.

Maegor says nothing. He remains hunched over, his eyes fixed on the floor. His fingers twitch with restrained anger as he traces the cracks in the stone beneath him, trying to shut out Jacaerys' voice.

"You fucking killed our brother! Our brother!" Jacaerys seethes, stepping closer to the bars.

Maegor can see Rhaena silently sobbing behind Jace, Baela's soft whispers trying to console her, but it only fuels his irritation. They have come here to throw stones at him while he's in chains.

 Pathetic.

"You're quiet now. Is that guilt I see? Or are you too much of a coward to even speak after what you've done?" Jacaerys continues, taking another step closer.