cruel gods [aemond targaryen]

XXIII

The days blurred into each other, every update about Maellery made Aemond's anger increase. Maellery had rounded up at least 5 supporters of Rhaenyra by now and killed them, their bodies were pinned to the grounds of the red keep. A message was put out by Maellery to the folks of fleabottom, any not in favour of such violence will answer to her.

Her mothers crown rested upon her head as she acted in for Helaena. Alicent and Otto had supposedly protested but to no avail, her mind far too gone to even understand what her thought process was at this point. Vhagar was getting restless in the skies once more, Aemond knew she was feeling his thoughts, his need to kill him. Bloodshed.

Nineteen days. Nineteen days is all it took, Maellery had become restless as she rounded together sons and daughters of lords sworn to Rhaenyra, bend the knee or feel the consequences she would ask them. Some would, begging and pleading with her to spare their lives. Some, their heirs and spares were hung high in a protest, their lives diminished to nothing but the titles of traitors.

As Maellery had also become insanely difficult to control now, Otto was becoming increasingly paranoid as the days turned, watching as his lamb was now a wolf, hunting for prey, hungry for blood. She sat fiddling with her fingers as she waited. She wanted her husband. She wanted Daemon's head. Mayhaps she will hand deliver it to Rhaenyra when the time would come, as they did with her own mothers.

Aemond was on his last stretch of his journey now, his elation growing as it grew nearer. He was restless, he wanted blood spill, needed it, craved it. Vhagar could be seen roaring amongst the skies. He commanded the men, no lord, lady or child would be taken back alive. No one. Each were to be put to the sword as traitors to the realm, to his king.

Nineteen days.

They arrived, as soon as they did, Aemond jumped from his horse, his red cloak now trailing behind him as he unsheathed his sword from his side. His men were not far behind him, immediately pulling out people from their stations. They were herded into the centre, some were old and had to be pulled. Some fathers were clutching to their sons, begging for mercy on them. None would be given.

As they all were gathered in the square, Aemond watched as each were awarded their death. Some were quick, not allowing them the pain they deserved, some weren't so lucky. For one man, it took six blows for his head to eventually fall, he was crying in agony each time and the soldiers were getting riled up at the effort.

They were then placed in a pile, Aemond, not yet satisfied with the results, muttered a word and set them all ablaze. A warning, to Daemon, who was sure to be watching as his wife's supporters turned to nothing but ash.

Each corridor, each cupboard and room were throughly searched. With every empty space, Aemond's anger grew. He expected his uncle, he expected him to fight for his wife, not cower behind walls.

His anger grew when the last room was searched, nothing. He had left after he had heard the news of their marching. Coward. Aemond sat at the edge of a table, Cole sat beside him as he rubbed his head. He expected a battle. His wife wanted a battle.

Maellery. Aemond groaned, looking down at Cole. He was clearly frustrated now, the men were searching the rest of the rooms for any prisoners, any escapees.

"What are you going to do my prince?" Cole asked him, looking up at him. He was sat uncomfortably with his armour and still, his face did not show it. "About Daemon."