cruel gods [aemond targaryen]

XIX

R O O K S
R E S T

The clashing of armour and the synchronicity of footsteps became all that filled the air on the walk toward Rooks Rest, the green banners of House Hightower floated through the skies as a symbol of unity, mercy, solidarity for their one true king.

Ser Criston Cole led the parade through the lands, sat atop his horse as the rightful leader of the greens. Sworn once to the Queen, now found himself in a daze of jealousy and embarrassment, siding with Alicent and her children. Fighting for a cause that was questionable to most.

It seems his anger with Rhaenyra increased with every mile they walked, every time she crossed his mind his banner hung slightly higher. She could have avoided all this if she just left with him that day on the ship, ran to some far off lands with nothing but love and affection surrounding her, now she was only surrounded by revenge and death.

Alicent and Ser Cole shared this in common, which is a reasonable explanation to why they were so close. Alicent had a different sense of jealousy, Rhaenyra had everything Alicent didn't and received things that Alicent could not even dream of.

Alicent kept the realm at bay, offering her full soul to them, she played by every rule, allowed peace to roam the lands, presented the perfect wife to the late king. Rhaenyra, ran around having bastards, marrying people after her husband had just passed and falling behind on her duties, running to DragonStone instead.

It seemed the entirety of team green reeked in jealousy. Aegon would never be Rhaenyra, Alicent would never be Rhaenyra, Aemond would never be her bastard sons and Maellery would never have a fatherly relationship like she had.

Everyone except Helaena, sweet Helaena who played no part in this and yet was rotting in her bed, sending her son away as she could not bear to look at him and becoming a inconsolable mess, a grieving mother.

Ser Cole thought of this as he marched his men on, ready to burn the cities down, not to avenge Helaena, his Queen, but to avenge poor little Cole who was left upon that ship by the much smaller Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Aemond Targaryen sat upon his dragon, the old war beast, Vhagar. He thought of one thing only, Mae. The argument they had before he left had played on his mind since he left. At first, he was angry. How she could say those things to him. After time, he felt regret, thinking back to the way her eyes seemed to droop and the once warm smile that he would kill to see, wandered to another world.

He thought of the potential battle ahead, filling himself with temporary happiness, though his mind wandered back to hers. He glanced at his hand, once filled with her curls. Her messy, loose curls, now empty as the breeze passed through the gaps of his fingers.

He rubbed his head, sighing. Once again, the knotted feeling returned. Sat upon Vhagars back, he said a silent prayer, begging the gods for some sort of relief from the ache he felt. He presumed it was because of recent events, after all it had only started a few days before.

It consumed his mind, interrupted his bloodstream, which in cause made his heart beat faster. He aches for something, but did not know what it was. He grew angrier as the feeling progressed, absorbing his body and soul.

As the knights approached Rooks Rest, their spirits only heightened, their pace steadily increased and Ser Criston Cole began to shout about Aegon, sworn to his true king. He allowed them the promise to bend the knee before he did any damage. Unbeknownst to Cole, Lord Staunton had already sent a raven to DragonStone, requiring help from his sworn ruler.