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aemondtargaryensfire · 11 days

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A Ravenous Desire- Aemond x fem!Reader

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, cannibalism, descriptions of cannibalism, gore/body horror, violence, loss of a child, death of a major character

Chapter Summary: Rhaenyra discovers the fate of her son, and Daemon swears an oath. Meanwhile, Aemond’s journey has only just begun.

Word Count: 11.6k

Author's Note: So…I was not planning on waiting 5 months to update. I had some problems at work and I completely lost any motivation to work on this fic, or really anything else for that matter. But I think we’re finally back in business! I'm hoping that I will be able to update much more frequently now. A HUGE thanks to anyone who has been liking, reblogging, or leaving comments! I appreciate you and I would love to read any thoughts or comments you may have!

Chapter Two

When young Lucerys hadn’t returned from his brief errand, Rhaenyra found herself growing more and more anxious with each minute. The rain had begun to pour in earnest nearly twenty minutes earlier, and though she couldn’t fault her sweet boy for his driving skills, careful as he often was, he was still a young boy and inexperienced at driving unaccompanied. And in King’s Landing, no less. She shuddered as she remembered how many close calls she had had when she was a teenager, driving around in the city. Her mind was plagued with images of her son getting into a wreck or ending up stranded on the side of the road, without any way to call her for help. Rhaenyra wished, more than anything, that these worries were irrational.

She felt thankful when she realized she would not need to sit in her discomfort for much longer. With the lurking waitstaff and darkening skies, it became evident to the grieving family that their dinner had run over and that they had likely overstayed their welcome, all agreeing to drive back to the familial home to finally get some rest from the long day. Rest would be needed to prepare for the difficult discussions that needed to be had in the coming days. If they saw Luke heading back in the direction of the restaurant, they would simply wave him on to turn around and head back with them. Perhaps he just had some trouble navigating his way through the large house; he had been accustomed to living in Dragonstone for most of his life, and he had always been attached to her side or the side of his eldest brother when they had walked through the vast halls of the home, all those years ago. Or perhaps he had some trouble recognizing Joffrey’s medicine in his crowded bag. It had simply taken him longer than planned to find the rooms they were staying in, and he had some difficulties in finding the medicine. Yes, that was it, Rhaenyra assured herself. Surely, he was already on his way back.

Rhaenyra forced herself to take a deep breath and then finally allowed herself to smile despite the events of the day and her lingering grief and worry, running her hand over the swell of her stomach and watching her children as they all filed out of the restaurant and into the car park. She felt pride fill her heart as she watched them, as she thought of the abundant love they all shared for one another. Their laughs and playful shrieking filled the air, with Joffrey clearly feeling much better as he jumped from puddle to puddle on the pavement. Meanwhile Jace had pulled his dress jacket off and he was making quite the show of trying to protect Baela and Rhaena, the girls she had grown to view as her own daughters, from the already lessening rain. Daemon walked towards their car with Viserys asleep in his arms and Aegon trailing closely behind, his thumb in his mouth and a brewing tantrum visible in his frown.

The image before her was perfect, and everything she needed after the day. The only one missing from their brood was Luke, who was absent purely as a result of his act of love towards his mother and brother. He had seen his brother struggling and had volunteered almost instantly to help him, and to help her. Her sweet boy had seen how stressed and exhausted she had already been, and he offered to shoulder that responsibility for her. No one could say that Rhaenyra was an inattentive mother. The love she had nurtured in her home blazed as bright as the sun, despite the conflicts that lay outside of their peaceful home. No matter the uncertainty that lay ahead, Rhaenyra felt comforted by the knowledge of the strength of their family. They would always have each other.

Beside them, the gloomy presence of Alicent and her two eldest—followed by that wretch Otto Hightower—lurked awkwardly as they neared their respective cars. Even with everyone set to head in the same direction where they would all regather later for further discussion, it felt as if that moment was the last time they would see each other. Rhaenyra had the strange sense that this brief feeling of togetherness they shared over their collective mourning of the same man, and the shared feeling of anxiety for what would come as a result, would soon end. It reminded her of the awkward parting at the end of a gathering, to say goodbye. She almost forgot the current circumstances entirely as she started to mentally prepare herself for the long journey back to Dragonstone, returning home as they always had after an obligatory family gathering, often at the behest of her father. There would be no more of that, now that he was gone. Soon they would be moving from Dragonstone for good, and Alicent and her family would be leaving. Rhaenyra couldn’t decide if she felt apprehensive or pleased by this. She fidgeted with the rings on her fingers anxiously as she inhaled a deep breath, bracing herself for the farewell.

As if sensing Rhaenyra’s internal conflict, Alicent parted from Helaena, who continued her walk towards their car without a beat, her head down and her gait containing the distinct energy of a prisoner being marched to the executioner’s block.

“Rhaenyra,” she called hesitantly as she neared.

Rhaenyra’s deep breath was released as she prepared herself for what would surely be an uncomfortable exchange, nodding discreetly in Daemon’s direction and signaling for him to go ahead and begin strapping the boys into their seats. This shouldn’t take too long.

Alicent stood across from Rhaenyra, eyes wide and her brow creased as she looked at her. She clasped her hands together as she worked to suffocate the urge to reach out and grab her old friend’s hand. She considered her words carefully before speaking, unsure. Her words still left her mouth feeling stilted and awkward.

“I truly hope that you won’t interpret my words inside as a slight towards you, or your ability.”

Rhaenyra audibly scoffed, looking away from Alicent briefly to glance in the direction of her family as they waited for her in the car.

“Is there any other way to interpret them?” Her words were clipped. Her tone icy cold.

Alicent balked, looking down at her hands as she shook her head.

“I never meant to imply you wouldn’t be fit for the role.” She paused, before she resumed. “I was there when your father decided to name you his successor,” Alicent’s fingers flinched as she took a small step towards Rhaenyra and her eyes grew glassy as if reminiscing.

“I was the one who reassured you and held your hand after he told you—”

Rhaenyra raised her right hand as if to signal for her to stop, cutting her off. Her eyes squeezed shut at the painful memory; the day her entire life had changed.

Alicent paled and closed her mouth quickly. Obediently.

“Do not speak of our past as if it still means something to you,” Rhaenyra spoke in a low voice as she stepped towards her. “Or as if you care about the politics or protection of this family.”

Alicent could feel tears pricking in her eyes and she looked past Rhaenyra, attempting to refocus once more. Dwelling on the past never did her any good.

“I simply meant that— well, perhaps Aegon deserves a chance to prove himself as well.”

Alicent’s words were met with silence. They have had this conversation, this argument, numerous times in the past. Always the same words, the same structure. With Alicent attempting to soften Rhaenyra up with memories of their past before digging her feet in and reciting whatever nonsense her father had told her. Rhaenyra felt it pointless to remind Alicent of how she felt about the situation—about her children. Aegon had proven himself, time and time again; but not as an adult capable of shouldering such a role, and all the responsibility that came along with it.

The silence hung heavily in the air for several moments, until Rhaenyra considered simply walking away and leaving it at that. Alicent nodded and took a steadying breath, stepping forward and grabbing Rhaenyra’s hand softly, holding it just as she used to when they were children. Rhaenyra felt shocked that her first instinct wasn’t to immediately pull away in disgust. She stared down at their joined hands.

“We both love our children. I’m simply acting in what I believe is their best interest. I always have. But that does not mean that there needs to be this divide between us! Not anymore.”

At her words and presumption, Rhaenyra pulled her hand away and scoffed. Her head shook in indignation as she spoke,

“You have only ever acted in your own interests. Your selfishness and pride have created this divide between us, nothing else.” She shook her head in disappointment, looking up to the sky as if appealing to the gods themselves. “It’s a wonder to me how my father allowed you to act so foolishly, to jeopardize our family...”

The words burned Alicent as she recognized the reference and she stepped back involuntarily, shocked. Though they were vague, Rhaenyra’s expression and the tone in which she spoke the words reminded Alicent of their last argument, over ten years ago. The argument in which Rhaenyra insulted Alicent’s parenting and suggested that there was something wrong with Aemond.

Daemon had stormed into the home and had instantly made his way upstairs, in the direction of Aemond’s bedroom, with Rhaenyra not far behind him. He was walking so fast that her grasping hands and pleas to reconsider did not reach him. Criston Cole had apprehended him only feet away from the bedroom doors, and the commotion pulled Alicent out of her own bedroom, already in her nightgown and robe for the night.

Neither of them would tell Alicent exactly why they were there, or why they were proposing that Aemond be sent away. Or why Daemon had been so assured of this necessity that he seemed to be on his way to grab the boy from his room himself.

The phrases “mentally unwell”, “unpredictable”, and “dangerous” were thrown around several times. Alicent was appalled and heartbroken at the idea that Aemond could ever harm another being. He was a troubled child, but she had never thought him cruel. She couldn’t understand why either of them were so intent on believing him as such. This argument had finalized the end of her and Rhaenyra’s friendship in her mind; she had always hoped that it could be salvaged, before then.

Rhaenyra watched after Daemon for a moment once he had pushed past them both to head downstairs and out of the house, before her eyes met Alicent’s. She levelled a hard gaze towards her, her mouth drawn tight.

“He’s not well, Alicent.”

All she could do in response was shake her head as the tears streamed down her face, her throat still raw from her earlier yelling. He was just a sensitive child, he always had been...

Rhaenyra moved closer, interrupting her thoughts and placing a hand hesitantly on Alicent’s shoulder as she leaned in closer, her words a harsh whisper,

“You need to think of what might be best for Aemond,” Rhaenyra paused for a moment and then her voice hardened, “and how your inaction could jeopardize this entire family.”

Rhaenyra had accused Alicent of acting solely in the interests of her own pride and image; it would not look good for her as a mother if her son was sent to live out his days in a mental institution. Never mind the potential harm he could have caused to the family’s reputation and image if he had acted out in public. The Targaryens’ status was at stake.

But Alicent could not sentence her son to a life of solitude based on such a thin argument.

“Is it such a crime to wish the best for my children? For my son? After everything he had been through?”

Rhaenyra simply shook her head, avoiding Alicent’s eyes. She could never fully understand what was at stake. After Aemond’s outburst all those years ago, no one could predict what he could have done. What else he was capable of. The threat had seemed very real, at the time.

Alicent forced herself to stand straighter, attempting to wipe the hurt from her face and pursing her lips almost imperceptibly before speaking again. She was determined. They were almost out of time, judging by Daemon’s hard expression as he watched them over by the car. She likely wouldn’t have another chance to speak with Rhaenyra alone.

“You were right, Rhaenyra. It’s time for us to move on. For all of us.” Alicent reached forward tentatively before grabbing her hand once again, cradling it with both of hers.

The sky had darkened considerably in the span of time in which they had been speaking. A heavy wave of exhaustion and grief hit Rhaenyra and she couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away or argue any longer. She looked back up at Alicent, expecting her to continue.

“We can’t erase our past, or the things that have been said over the years. But I feel there have been some misunderstandings between us. Let us talk, as we used to, without anyone else there to muddle everything up.”

Rhaenyra considered her for a moment. Truthfully, she didn’t want to continue this conversation with Alicent. There were things she couldn’t share with her and things that couldn’t be undone by this point. However, she remembered that Alicent may be gone in a matter of weeks once she had moved away to another city to finally live her own life. No matter how tumultuous their relationship had almost always been, Alicent had still remained a presence in her life. Begrudgingly, sure. But the chances that they would be forced to see each other again, without Viserys there to force them, were small. This must be the goodbye that Rhaenyra had subconsciously braced herself for.

“Perhaps we can discuss this more later this evening, once I’ve put the boys to bed. Alone.”

A ghost of a smile danced upon Alicent’s lips, tugging gently at the corners of her mouth.

“I would lo-like that.”

Alicent’s attention was suddenly pulled away as Helaena could be heard mumbling to herself quietly a few feet away, still standing outside of the car and with her hands covering her ears and her eyes wide. Another one of her episodes, no doubt. Alicent flashed one last apologetic smile towards Rhaenyra before flying to her daughter’s side.

They would have a head start in heading back to the family home, as Alicent calmed her daughter. That would give Rhaenyra the time to change and compose herself.

With the older children loaded up in Baela’s car, since Jace and Joffrey had been more than happy to tag along with them without Luke there to drive them, the car stood idling as they waited to follow them back. Their laughter and music could be heard from outside of the car. Daemon had only just finished packing their other two drowsy children into the backseat and he watched Rhaenyra closely as she walked to the car, an unspoken question written on his face. He gave her a warm smile as he opened the passenger door for her and then slid into the driver’s side next to her. They sat in silence as they began their journey back to what would soon become their new home. Rhaenyra kept her eyes on the road, searching for Luke’s small car. She welcomed the calm silence of the car after such a long day and mulled over Alicent’s words.

“What did she want?” Daemon broke the silence, a hint of both amusement and annoyance in his voice.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pinched her nose. She found it strange, the sense of latent protectiveness that she felt at how he spoke of Alicent.

“She wishes to speak with me later. Alone.” Rhaenyra felt the need to clarify this detail once again, to Daemon this time. He didn’t need to be with her for whatever conversation they would have. She knew it was foolish optimism, to believe that they could all put their past aside and reconcile for the night. Her heart fluttered, nonetheless.

“Hmm.” He nodded his head and kept his eyes straight as he stared at the road ahead of them.

Her eyes continued to scan the road as it flew past her. Alicent had appeared desperate, and more than open to reason. Rhaenyra felt sure that she could convince her to give up on Aegon’s false succession claim, at the least.

“Don’t lose sight on why we’re here.” Daemon’s words interrupted her thoughts, eliciting an annoyed sigh as she tried to keep her eyes on the road.

“I am capable of speaking with her on my own, Daemon.”

“Yes, but I don’t expect they’ll give up so easily.”

Rhaenyra heaved in a deep sigh at Daemon’s words. No, of course, “they” wouldn’t. Alicent and Aegon could both be easily swayed, she predicted. On the other hand, Otto Hightower was notoriously stubborn and proud. It was far too late to concern herself with such thoughts, however. She would strategize how to deal with him tomorrow.

“As I said, I have the support. Viserys has been preparing me for this role since I was but a teenager. You know that.”

He was silent for a moment, heaving in a deep sigh before he shifted in his seat and began speaking in a harsh whisper.

“I don’t understand how you could be so calm.” She could see him in her peripheral vision, shaking his head as if disappointed by her. She fought to keep her voice steady and firm.

“I know what I’m doing.”

Daemon’s voice rose in volume, clear anger and disgust written on his features.

“That woman would do anything to protect her pride. And those children, no matter how incompetent or unstable they may be. Otto Hightower has been trying to worm his way in for years. Aegon is still a child, more or less, and they purport that he would be more suited to take over for my brother.” His voice grew even louder. “It’s an insult to you, to this family—”

Rhaenyra finally tore her eyes from the road to throw a glare towards her husband, jerking her chin in the direction of the back seat with their sleeping children and demanding him to be quiet.

Daemon was still visibly fuming as he clamped his lips together.

“I have no concerns over her. Or Hightower, believe it or not. I know what I’m doing. Anyway, he and all the rest of them will be gone in a matter of weeks, and I’m not so worried about those kids, I would have noticed by now if there was any real threat or danger...”

Rhaenyra’s words fizzled out as flashing lights came into view. Daemon spared a glance to the back seat at the boys as he slowed down, preparing to maneuver his way around what looked like an accident along with the rest of traffic. Rhaenyra sat up in her seat quickly, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes began to make out the details of the scene. It was obviously a car accident, likely due to the storm and the heavy rain that had only just let up. A car sat crumpled on the side of the road, the smoke and the flashing lights temporarily distorting the image in front of her. Rhaenyra clicked her tongue in sympathy as the image came into view, shaking her head at the sight. She had no idea the rain had been that bad, and now some poor soul—

Rhaenyra gasped, feeling as if the world had fallen out from beneath her as the color of the car became clear. It was unmistakable: the same shiny blue car that Luke had picked out himself only months earlier. He had been so excited, at the time. He didn’t care how much Jace made fun of him for his “flashy” choice in vehicle. He proudly proclaimed that the car reminded him of his late father, before Daemon had come along. He said that it matched the colors on the banners that were said to represent House Velaryon, his namesake. He had insisted on driving his blue car almost everywhere in the months since. The bright blue color mocked her as the flashing lights illuminated it.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra grabbed his arm, her grip tight, as if trying to gain her strength back from him.

Daemon reached the same conclusion only moments after she had, instantly turning the wheel to move past the police cars and to pull up closer to the scene, a grave expression forming on his face. Rhaenyra threw the door open before he had even put the car in park, nearly tripping as she jumped out of the vehicle and towards her son.

The scene of the crime indicated what should have been a minor car accident, a car hydroplaning from the rain into a nearby pole. The car was still mostly intact, and she could still make out the front seat of the car. No one should have been harmed aside from some superficial bruises or cuts. The brief flutter of hope in her heart was quickly dashed when she noticed the blood coating the empty front seat and surrounding the open door. The quiet sound of metal wheels squeaking alerted her to the stretcher being wheeled towards an ambulance, and her head jerked painfully to look towards the source of the sound. At the covered body that lay upon it.

Rhaenyra collapsed at the sight, her eyes zeroing in on the numerous splotches of blood. The blood permeated so much of the white sheet that it almost appeared as if it had been purposely dyed red. It was completely soaked through. Black spots began to flood her vision as she fought to remain conscious. Not her boy. Not her son...

With every detail that emerged, there was no mistaking the sheer brutality that had occurred; the brutality that had stolen her child from her and that she couldn’t deny. He was gone and she knew it before even seeing his body. She clawed at the ground beneath her, desperately, the mud caking itself beneath her fingernails. She wished she were dead. That she could be buried beneath the earth, rotting, so that she wouldn’t have to feel this way any longer.

Rhaenyra could feel the hot tears as they ran down her cheeks, previously cold from the cool night air and the rush of blood from her face that she had experienced at the sight. She struggled to breathe, pulling her hands up from the ground to place them on her stomach and her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, trying desperately to catch her breath. She then forced herself to stand and began walking towards the stretcher. She had to see him, as morbid as it was. That was her son. Her child. She had to know what had caused such poorly hidden gore.

“Ma’am!” An officer moved to stop her from approaching the stretcher, arm outstretched as if to guard the sight. Rhaenyra wished she could oblige them; that she could turn around and go home without subjecting her eyes to such a sight. And yet, she had to know. She had to see what had become of her child.

“That is my son!” Her words came out broken and stilted, torn from her throat as she yelled.

No amount of protest from the officers or paramedics could convince her to step away, and one of them reluctantly stepped out of her way before they slowly removed the soaked sheet from the body. They were moving so slowly to give her a chance to change her mind, she knew. She didn’t. She had to know.

The body of her sweet boy was mangled, unrecognizable. Parts of him were missing or torn off. The hands that used to hold hers were missing fingers. The little feet that used to pad along on the floor as he ran to greet her every time she returned home were twisted or dangling from his leg grotesquely. The sight was one not fit to a human’s eyes; and certainly not to a mother’s. Rhaenyra’s vision blurred with tears once more and she collapsed again, her hands grasping at the stretcher, trying in vain to keep herself standing upright. She felt as if her lungs had been ripped from her body, her sobs tearing through her like a knife. The grief burned through her more fiercely than any physical pain ever had. She thought of her mother and father, of the grief she had felt at losing them. Those losses had hurt; they had made her feel woefully alone, like she’d been abandoned. An orphan, floating through space. This loss was incomprehensible. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

Daemon looked on at the sight of his wife clutching at her deceased son, and he clenched his jaw at the sight of the boy. He felt utterly helpless as he looked on at the scene. The boys were thankfully still asleep in the car, somehow. His eyes scanned the other passing cars briefly and he hoped that the older children had continued driving on, that they would be spared from such a sight. Tears pricked his own eyes. How would he break this to them? To the others? How could any of them move on from this?

Those tears quickly shifted from despair to anger and white-hot rage. This was not the work of a car accident. Any idiot could take one look at the scene and figure that out. He knew what had done this. Who had done this. Lucerys had left the restaurant only several minutes after another member of the family had. One he had foolishly brushed off.

Rhaenyra’s heaving sobs began to quiet as she slowly began to raise herself up, appraising the body of her son once again. He had died at the hands of someone vicious, and cruel. A creature who mutilated him and left almost nothing behind. She shook her head and stroked his brown curls, taking in gasping breaths until her heart felt as if it had stopped and she could taste bile in her throat. Daemon walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly in an attempt to comfort her.

Rhaenyra whipped her head around and grabbed his hands from her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height. Her body continued to shake, and she leaned on him heavily, eyes wide and frantic as she resisted the distinct sensation that she felt of being pulled further and further into the ground. She knew. She had been wrong to dismiss him and the threat he posed, and had always posed, to her family. Her children.

“I-it...” she gasped, struggling to breathe, “...it was him!”

“I know.” Daemon whispered, pressing his forehead against Rhaenyra’s and wishing with everything in his body that he could end her pain, take this away from her. Rage burned through his veins. Not just for the sweet boy that he had come to view as his own son, for the love of his wife who laid her entire weight on him in grief. He felt rage at himself, for failing to recognize the danger Aemond had presented. Of course, Daemon had never known for sure, but he had his suspicions. He had missed something, he must have. Retribution was needed, and Daemon was more than willing to dole such a punishment out. Not only to rid the world of Aemond’s poison and avenge his wife and son, but to apologize and make up for his own failures. He could have prevented this; the realization made his chest feel tight enough to burst.

He stroked her hair as she sobbed into his chest and he kept his eyes glued to Luke’s body, memorizing the sight. Memorizing the gore and cruelty and storing it away in his head for later.

“Lucerys will be avenged.”

................................................

Aemond had taken the first flight available when he arrived at the King’s Landing airport, clothes still damp from the rain and a single overfilled bag hanging from his shoulder. All he had cared about, at that moment, was that the plane he boarded would take him far away from King’s Landing. Fast. As much distance as he could put between himself and the rage of his family, the better. Upon landing in one of the neighboring large cities, he was forced to reevaluate his decision when he realized just how easily he could be tracked there. There was no doubt in his mind who would be on his trail. Daemon was no fool. He would know where Aemond had gone first, the airport, and he would easily be able to surmise where he had flown to so late— it had been one of the only available flights at that hour. A monkey could solve that mystery. He did the math in his head, trying to calculate how long it had taken from the time Luke’s body was discovered to the time that Daemon would have likely figured out who had killed him and boarded the next available flight. Aemond had caught the last available flight to the city he was in for several hours, with the flight departing after 11pm and being a little over four hours—he figured he had no more than five hours in between them. Maybe six, if he was incredibly lucky. That wasn’t even accounting for how long he may need to wait to catch another flight.

Aemond’s stomach dropped, and he shuddered at the thought of Daemon tracking him and finding him right there, in the crowded airport. He could visualize the moment their eyes would meet, and Daemon would grab him and kill him with his bare hands right there in front of the other airport patrons. Or worse, he would take him somewhere private to punish him for what he had done. That would give him more time to do as he pleased without interference. Aemond thought about what little he knew of Daemon, what he had observed over the years. Daemon was impulsive, sure, but Aemond felt the latter option the most likely. He was vindictive and had always been fiercely loyal to Rhaenyra and her children. Daemon would make him suffer and draw out his punishment to avenge Luke. Possibly for days. Aemond drew his hand up and clasped it over his chest, as if to keep his heart from thumping right out of his body. His other clammy hand shot out towards the nearest wall to hold him steady as he fought to catch his breath.

As soon as he had managed to gather himself, Aemond bolted to the nearest ticketing booth, and he was boarding the next open flight without taking so much as a bathroom break beforehand. A flight that he had picked randomly and without any reason aside from its soon departure time. On his way to an unfamiliar place. The bustling crowds only contributed to his already simmering anxiety, and he was more than willing to dive headfirst into a strange place as long as it got him away and eased the fear pumping through his veins. He needed a town, in another country perhaps, that was even farther away and innocuous enough so as to not raise any suspicions. He didn’t care about anything else, for surely with every second he remained in that airport, Daemon was only getting closer to him.

He had more than enough cash to pay for anything, for the time being, as long as it got him out of there. He had made sure of that when he raided Viserys’s drawers. Aemond’s exhaustion plagued him, and though he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift away for even just a short time, he could do little more than sit upright in his seat, knee jiggling and head oscillating rapidly to look around at the other passengers on the plane. Even the knowledge that Daemon couldn’t possibly be on that plane with him did not calm him. He had other ghosts haunting him now. There were moments he could have sworn he saw Luke a few rows behind him, staring at him with tears of rage in his eyes and blood coating him from head to toe. His mind was playing tricks on him, he knew this. Yet he still felt compelled to pull his hood over his head, to keep his head down as he absentmindedly pulled at the tangled hair hanging by his ear. He could only pick at his tray of food several hours in, despite the grumbling and painful emptiness of his stomach.

As the hours went by, Aemond’s mind vacillated between brief moments of optimistic clarity and thoughts of his impending doom. For a short time he was able to approach his situation in the way a man not on the run would, in which he attempted to plan out the rest of his life and he realized that, as long as he remain around others on the other side of the sea, that he may be able to live a life of safety and anonymity. He was even able to come to the obvious conclusion that concealing his hair and not wearing his eyepatch would be smart for other reasons, other than to conceal himself from his own sins and ghosts. Aemond may not have made many public appearances over the years, but the features he shared with his father and other legendary Targaryens would surely give him away to anyone observant and politically-savvy enough. An eyepatch was easily recognizable and could make even the most average looking person stick out in a crowd. His mind would then quickly shift to despair, running over the cyclical and repetitive thoughts of how he would die, of who would be the one to kill him. How slowly would they do it? Would they tear him apart, limb from limb, piece by piece, as he did with Luke? Lock him away and starve him? To plan his future would be futile, he thought. He was merely biding his time.

Aemond hadn’t gotten more than a minute of sleep by the time the plane landed in a much smaller city than he was used to, seemingly surrounded by nothing but fields of dirt or corn. Aemond was sure he stuck out like a sore thumb, in his dark and heavy clothing and carrying a single piece of luggage. Keep your eyes down, he reminded himself frequently. He followed a small crowd of people he recognized from his flight and jumped on one of the first shuttle buses he saw without even looking at the final destination. When the bus he had taken from the airport brought him to the small, dinky town he had haphazardly chosen, his nose wrinkled in barely concealed disgust. Not his best decision. But for all he knew this was the best choice at the time, and he reasoned with himself that it would certainly be a quiet place to stay in for a few days until he could move on to the next town, and until everything blew over and hopefully Daemon gave up on his search. He had managed to place more time and space in between Daemon and himself. He nodded frantically, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to assure himself.

Aemond lingered around the small bus station, scanning a faded old map on a nearby wall and running his tongue over his teeth in distaste. The town was so small and seemingly desolate, he likely wouldn’t even be able to find a cab or a taxi, or gods forbid, another hot and smelly bus.

Fortunately for Aemond, he didn’t mind walking. After all, he used to walk with Vhagar nearly everywhere. Rain or shine, it didn’t matter. In most recent years, he was used to spending hours walking around King’s Landing, in search of a meal. Alone. Aemond sniffed as he began his journey, kicking at a rock in front of him and watching it roll and skip on the ground ahead. There was no use in dwelling on that.

In between all of his panic and fear Aemond hadn’t created any kind of plan for what his new life would look like. It was difficult for him to feel anything other than completely hopeless. Beads of sweat rolled down from his hairline as the sun beat down on him, and the toll of his exhaustion and the events of the past two days, as well as the physical demand of carrying his only belongings, wore him down. He felt his heart rate speed up as he thought of his current circumstances, walking in the middle of nowhere and without any idea of where to go next. He was tired down to his bones, and so hungry he wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach somehow began consuming itself. His clothes still felt vaguely damp in some sections, and stiff in others. He had a feeling he smelled of sweat and cheap airline food. Swallowing was almost painful from how dry his throat was. Aemond had hardly ever felt so uncomfortable in his life. He forced himself to try and think of other things now that he was finally alone, save for the occasional car driving past him.

He had made it to a small inconspicuous town, out of the reach of Daemon, for the time being. He didn’t remember leaving any trace or indication of where he had gone. Daemon would likely need to run some trial and error to even discover where Aemond had escaped to. That was something he had done right; he had a good head start. Aemond’s small feeling of victory was short-lived as he estimated how long he could stay in any one place before he needed to leave. He figured he should only stay for a day or two at most to be safe. He felt on the verge of collapse as he imagined living his life on the run, always feeling as exhausted as he was at that moment. He realized he just needed to find somewhere to stay for the night, the sky growing darker as the sun inched its way across the sky. Aemond hadn’t slept in over two days now, the entire flight spent nervously picking at the blood leftover in his nails and resisting the urge to throw himself out of the goddamn plane. He was hopeful that getting some sleep would assist him in keeping a level head.

Nearly an hour after he had begun his journey, Aemond spotted the small and flashing sign of a motel, advertising their vacancies. Aemond sniffed as he felt himself recoil in disgust. The small, roadside motel looked on the verge of collapse. Had it not been for his sheer desperation, he would recommend the building be condemned and destroyed at the earliest opportunity. Hell, he would even be willing to lend them a hand. He groaned at the bitter realization that hit him: this would probably be one of his only options, if not the only one entirely. What was that saying one of the house’s cooks used to say to him, when he would complain about the meals or snacks they would prepare? “Beggars can’t be choosers”?

An insult then and an insult now. Aemond was no beggar. Or at least he hadn’t been. He had no one to blame but himself for his drastic change in circumstance. Had Aemond practiced his restraint and used his brain, he would be back home now, in the comfort of his bedroom or the library. He wouldn’t be happy. No, he hadn’t been happy in years. It was certainly likely he would be doing anything in his power to avoid his visiting sister and her family. But at least he wouldn’t be standing in front of that dump, without any choice but to consider it his salvation for the night. He wouldn’t be drenched in sweat and achingly sore. If he hadn’t given in to his brash impulsiveness, he would at least be able to see his mother. She may even be willing to hold him as she used to, to stroke his hair and whisper calming things in his ears when he began to hurt himself or if he became restless.

With a heaving sigh, Aemond dragged himself into the small office of the motel. He was greeted by an older man with a still-lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. The office was old and musty and were it not for the cigarette smoke flowing through the air, he was sure the dank smell of mold and the old glue on the peeling wallpaper would be the thing to greet him instead.

Without looking up from his newspaper, the man grunted out a barely audible greeting before reciting what Aemond assumed to be his reflexive “sales pitch” detailing the fine amenities he had to offer.

“It’s forty for the night. Each room has a TV, a bathtub. We don’t offer a continental breakfast, but we can offer you coupons for up to three different restaurants in the area. No smoking indoors. We have a patio in the back for smokers.”

He spoke in a slow, southern drawl that Aemond had only ever heard in movies.

Aemond’s eye lingered on the cloud of smoke hovering around the man’s head as he rolled his words over in his head. Even Aemond felt that a bit pricy for what the man was offering, but he scoffed and reached to pull out his wallet, nonetheless. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“How many beds d’you need?”

“Just the one.”

He could hardly recognize his own voice, cracking and gravelly from his exhaustion, and so woefully out of place in this town.

Aemond heard the crinkling of paper as the man folded his newspaper and set it down on the counter, and the loud creaking of the old chair as he leaned forward and appraised him carefully. Aemond’s stomach growled as he avoided the man’s eyes and continued to sort through the money in his wallet, searching for smaller bills.

“Where’re you from, with an accent like that?”

Aemond ignored the question, sighing loudly and looking back up at the man briefly before he pulled out some of his cash. Keep your eyes down. Stay calm.

He needed food. He needed water.

“Are there any vending machines, at least?”

The man paused as he leaned back in his chair so hard it sounded as if the wood had splintered with the force. Aemond felt disappointed when he looked back up and the man was still there, and not sprawled out on the floor.

“Nah, but there’s a store down the road. No restaurants for another few miles, and all closin’ around this time anyway.”

Aemond could hear the man chuckle as he took a deep breath and raked his hands through his messy hair. He hadn’t eaten since...Luke’s face flashed briefly in his mind, and he shuddered as he tried to shake the thought of his last meal from his mind, his stomach continuing to growl. It almost sounded mocking. This shithole could offer him what would likely be ratty old beds, a smoker’s patio, and a TV without service, on top of the prodding questions of an old man, but it couldn’t even offer him a fucking vending machine so he could eat. What kind of motel doesn’t have a vending machine? The thought of walking another mile to a store made him feel dizzy and sick to his stomach. He had no interest in indulging in his other option, no matter how irritating and available it was, sitting only a few feet away from him, and then he wouldn’t be able to stay there, because he could be easily tracked—

The man interrupted his frustrated musings with another chuckle, leaning forward once more and cocking an eyebrow in his direction, sizing him up.

“You look like you’ve been through the ringer. Ya breakup with your girlfriend or somethin’?”

He laughed and shook his head, amused at his own attempt at a joke. “I’ve seen so many’a your type, always angry and the worse for wear. Lots’a runaways, too.”

With every word out of that man’s mouth, Aemond felt himself growing more and more irritated. It was as if a bunch of tiny little bugs had formed underneath his skin, crawling and all beating their wings in time to create an incessant buzzing in his ears. His clothes felt too tight and too loose all at once. Nothing could ever be easy for him. He suppressed the urge he had to yell at the man, reach across the counter and grab him by his neck. You have no idea who I am or what I have done. Aemond turned abruptly without another word and headed back outside, ignoring the man’s further prodding and questioning about his payment and if he still wanted the room. Surely there were other shitty motels nearby he could crash at instead.

Aemond continued walking down the same gravelly road and found the store the man had referred to relatively easily. Luckily for him it appeared as if most of the businesses in this town were all on the same street. That made things easier. However, it was certainly the kind of small town where everyone seemed to already know each other. Too small for him to find himself something actually filling to eat. He couldn’t make any scenes or bring attention to himself. He resolved to make do for the time being and then move on tomorrow once he had gotten some sleep.

The bell hanging on the door frame rang noisily as he entered the small store, making his eye twitch and making him realize he had developed a cluster headache. He groaned quietly to himself and clenched his fists a few times, willing himself to continue.

Aemond walked through the small store, his boots squeaking on the laminate flooring as he looked for something to eat that would hold him over until he found something else more satisfying. Everything was so unfamiliar here. Strange sounds and smells. The lights were bright and were flickering over several aisles, and all of the food looked different. Brands he didn’t recognize were scattered throughout the store, with brightly colored containers and boxes.

Aemond was never fond of cakes or squishy things like the sweets he found in the first aisle. Too messy. Ironic, given his new appetite. He made his way over to the next aisle and grabbed a box of crackers that looked vaguely familiar, like something he used to eat as a child. As he was scanning the box, trying to discern if they would be too salty or dry and if he would be able to stomach them, his nose picked up on something aside from the stale air that filled the store. Sweeter, like overripe fruit in the summer, mixed with something rougher and metallic. Like copper. His nose didn’t wrinkle in disgust, necessarily, as much as it did in surprise and then vague recognition. It was unfamiliar enough that it sent small chills up his spine, and yet familiar and noteworthy enough that his head moved up of its own volition, in search of the source of such an intoxicating smell. He tilted his head slightly as his eye searched the aisle before landing on the only other person browsing in that section.

He noticed her then. He wasn’t sure how long she had been there and staring at him, but it must have been at least several moments with how her eyes widened at meeting his, a light blush rising to her cheeks. The smell continued to waft towards him from her direction, aided by the numerous box fans that had been placed around the store, he noticed. Aemond realized he had been slouching as he straightened his back, meeting her eyes. She didn’t move, not even a little bit, her eyes still on him. He felt disconcerted, confused, and on edge the longer he looked at her. She had the same shade of hair that he had always had. The same light strands his sisters, brothers, and nearly all other Targaryens shared. Glassy lavender eyes met his, round and shiny with an expression he couldn’t read. He took a small step forward and noticed her chin begin shaking a little bit with every moment that he continued looking at her, and he found himself feeling both intrigued and defensive.

Were it not for the obvious differences in build and dress, it almost felt like he was looking in some kind of strange mirror. This mirror showed him a strange creature, unlike most that walked among them, with a nearly permanent sheen of melancholy and silent, bubbling rage hidden beneath. Despite her softer features, and the distinct sense that she was no more than a child recently thrust out into the world, there was a strength and animalistic energy about her that thrummed through the space between them. It felt familiar, like his. What else did she share with him?

The fluorescent lights above him began flickering, and the quiet buzzing of electricity cutting in and out shook him from his stupor.

Aemond slammed the crackers back down on the shelf, turning quickly and away from her and to another aisle. He thought only Targaryens had those features, and he had always gotten the impression most of them lived in the same place, near King’s Landing. She smelled different. She felt different. Was she like him? Not like his siblings or his father. Like him? He thought he was the only Targaryen still alive like this. Aemond felt himself heating up, his fists clenching at his sides as he stomped through the small aisles in search of nothing but a reprieve. He felt foolish for allowing such an insignificant girl to shake him up so much, to make him question himself. He was already inherently strong, as a Targaryen. But the things he did in the dark of the night, the things not unlike what his powerful ancestors must have done, made him even stronger. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps the lie he told himself that he was the only one alive with this affliction or power, like some kind of “chosen one”, was false.

Despite the confusing waves of emotion pulsing through him, Aemond felt himself drawn to her. He couldn’t see her. No, he avoided looking in that same direction again and kept his shoulders rolled forward and his eyes glued firmly to the ground and away from any other person. But like a magnet, his ears perked up to every footstep or thump near him, and he caught himself on more than one occasion having to remind himself to keep his head down and not walk back in that direction. He could swear he was able to sense where she was, somehow. The smell lingered in and out of his vicinity.

Aemond eventually made his way back to that same aisle once he had convinced himself she was gone, grabbing the box of crackers he had nearly destroyed in his haste. He didn’t have the energy left to find anything else. The sun was setting, and he still needed to find a place to stay, other than the shitty motel with the invasive old man. The packs of gum he grabbed on his way up to the cashier would be especially useful until he could find something more substantial to eat by giving him something to chew on aside from the skin on his fingertips or his lips.

He was quickly met with something nearly more upsetting as the teenaged cashier took one look at his outstretched hand holding his cash and he scoffed,

“Erm, we don’t take that kind of money.”

Aemond looked down at the bills in his hand, his brow furrowed in confusion. He scanned the counter for any signs indicating that they didn’t accept bills of a certain amount.

“Oh. Why not?”

“Wrong country.” The boy sounded exasperated as he pointed at the striped flag proudly displayed behind him. “You’ll need to go to a bank or something to get it converted.”

At the discovery that his money was useless, with all that he had of it, Aemond felt himself grow even more agitated than he had already been. His exhaustion and hunger weren’t helping matters. He felt himself panicking, and he was embarrassed at how little he had planned or considered in his abrupt move. How had he not considered the change in currency? He had grown sloppy. That kind of sloppiness would get him caught in no time. The image of Daemon dragging him away, this time through the store, ran across his mind again. Aemond began raking his hands through his hair frantically, trying desperately not to begin pulling or picking at his scalp but still searching for the small amount of comfort he received from the light pulling sensation. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The teenaged cashier cleared his throat and then nodded his head in the direction of the line forming behind Aemond. He could feel their staring, hear their annoyed murmurs. More unsettlingly, he could feel her staring, only feet away. He knew without looking that she was standing in the line behind him. The smell wafted towards him and filled his nostrils, making them flare as he swallowed painfully. He was frozen in place, feeling as helpless as a child, his chest heaving, and he resisted the urge to scream. He felt a slight pricking in the corners of both eyes as he looked around frantically, as if looking for help. He thought of his mother, and his breath caught in his throat when he attempted to respond.

“I’m, um...”

He was alone. No one was there to help him. He would likely never see his mother again. He wasn’t sure if he needed to apologize or scream and leave entirely. Would he really die from starvation? Would that be the thing that finally took him out?

“Young man?”

His head turned quickly in the direction of the voice. He felt a slight cramp in his neck as he did.

A small older woman had stepped forward, her hand outstretched, as she held out a few dollars towards the bored teenage cashier. Her bright pink clothing stood out amongst the other patrons, many of them in work uniforms. His eye moved over slowly to the direction she had come from. She had been with that strange girl, he discovered. His eye lingered on her once again until he heard the older woman speak up once more.

“Here, Danny. Put the extra in the donation jar and let the boy get his snacks.”

Danny shrugged and grabbed the cash, giving the woman a small smile and opening the cash drawer. “Sure, Lori.”

She turned, then, to level Aemond with a sympathetic look. She was much shorter than him, so much that he needed to angle his head down. She moved to stand beside him and nudged him lightly with her elbow and a bright smile on her wrinkled face. He almost felt bad for flinching away from the touch.

“Looks like he needs ‘em.”

Aemond furrowed his brow as he met her eyes briefly and then nodded, grabbing his items from the counter and shoving them into the pocket of his bag before then moving aside as she walked forward and signaled for the girl to follow her to the counter.

“Um, thank you.” He cringed as he heard his voice again, as weak and pathetic as it had sounded earlier at the motel.

Lori looked back over at him as the girl started to unload their items from the basket onto the counter, lining them up meticulously and keeping her head down.

“Ah, what’s a few dollars?”

He gave the woman a small smile, the corner of his mouth turning up a notch, all he could muster, before moving his eye over to look at the girl who had since finished with her task and turned to face him. Lori moved to pay the cashier, and he finally met her eyes again since the moment in the aisle.

She was staring at him again. Far too close for his taste. Her appearance was more unnervingly familiar the closer he got. Her eyes moved across his face slowly, as if scanning him, evaluating him. Studying him. Aemond squinted his eyes and jutted his chin out, in defiance almost, towards her. He didn’t like how she was looking at him, and he was especially unhappy with how she appeared to stand up straighter after a moment, as if challenging him.

The paranoid thought occurred to him that she may have been sent by someone to find him. But that didn’t make any sense, he had only arrived that day and no one, not even him, could have predicted he would end up there. His mind shifted to another possibility. If she was like him, did she know? He considered that she may be trying to estimate how much of a threat he was. If he was on her turf, so to speak, she may be planning to drive him away or take care of him herself. He had never met anyone like him. He had been able to fight off a grown man once, surely he could fight her off. Or maybe he couldn’t, maybe she was stronger than she looked.

Why was she looking at him like that? Her eyes narrowed and she sighed loudly as if his very existence irritated her. Aemond did the same, and he felt his leg twitch as he felt the urge to take a step in her direction. As if noticing the growing animosity between the two, Lori turned around after paying and stood between them, motioning for them to follow her out of the store.

“Can you grab those bags for me, hon?”

The girl turned her head away quickly and nodded, squeaking out a quick affirmation as she grabbed the two brown paper bags off of the counter.

“Let’s get out of the way, kids, we’re blockin’ the line!” Lori laughed to herself, gesturing to the two and leading them out of the store as fast as her feet could take her.

Aemond heaved a sigh as he was dragged along. He felt grateful to be out of the claustrophobic store and away from her watchful gaze, and yet he felt uncertain and almost afraid of what could happen once they were all outside. Nevertheless, Aemond trudged along slowly, due to Lori’s slow gait, until the three reached an old station wagon in the car park.

The girl held the bags tightly in her arms, her head pointed straight ahead as she waited for Lori to open the trunk, her eyes tactfully avoiding Aemond.

Lori looked between the two of them once she had unlocked the car and started opening the trunk. Aemond reached out and assisted her in opening the trunk when he noticed her struggling to pull it open. She gave him a smile before she looked between the two again.

“Do you two know each other? You certainly look very similar.”

The girl shook her head quickly, loading the bags into the trunk and furrowing her brow before she spoke again, disdain evident in her voice.

“No. I have no idea who he is.”

Aemond almost felt offended at her tone, how quickly she denied the idea that they may know one another. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned slightly against the car as he appraised her. She crossed her arms in a similar manner once she finished placing the bags in the car, taking on the appearance of someone who was confident and sure of themself. Her shifty eyes and fidgeting fingers betrayed her. The corner of Aemond’s mouth quirked up slightly in triumph.

“Oh, well you could have fooled me!”

As Lori paused, she looked closer at him, cocking her head and pointing her finger into the air. “Actually, you do look kind of familiar. And that accent isn’t from around here! Where are you from?”

He tore his eyes away from the girl then, straightening from his comfortable lean and moving his gaze back down to the ground as he visibly floundered, searching for an answer. He hadn’t kept his eyes down. He had made a scene in the store and the motel. And now he was being questioned. He knew he couldn’t hide his accent, but revealing or even hinting at the precise city he was from could lead Lori to finding out who he was, who he was related to. He was trying not to attract attention while on the run, that certainly wouldn’t help him.

Lori shook her head after several moments of him fumbling for an answer and she turned to move in the direction of the driver’s side.

“Ah, no matter.”

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief. Until she turned back to him and grabbed his arm gently, looking up at him.

“Do you need somewhere to stay for the night?” Her grip on his arm seemed to tighten slightly, but in a friendly, caring, way. In a way reminiscent of how a mother, or even a grandmother, would. Aemond had never met either of his grandmothers, both dead long before he had come along. He cleared his throat as his heart wrenched.

“You look tired.” Lori’s eyes looked him up and down. “And hungry. Let me cook you some food and maybe you kids can get to know one another before you head on your way!”

The offer was tempting, Aemond found. A place to stay, even if only for a night. Some warm food. If the girl was there, maybe he could get to the bottom of why he felt so drawn to her and what kind of threat she may pose. He also couldn’t deny how comforted he felt by the older woman’s presence. He was severely lacking in comfort and kindness from others. He had been for a while, he supposed.

It was risky, however. He was tired, and hungry, and the situation was far too unpredictable and new to assure that he wouldn’t make another fatal mistake. Lori could potentially end up in the middle of something dangerous. He stuttered out an excuse.

“I c-can’t. I have, um, s-somewhere to be.”

He forced a small smile in an attempt to be more convincing. Lori narrowed her eyes at him and then nodded her head, clicking her tongue as if she didn’t fully believe him.

“Mhmm. Alright. Well, I’ll let you go then.”

Lori began walking over to the driver’s side, waving on for the girl to follow and seemingly forgetting about Aemond. He started walking away, towards nowhere in particular, listening to them as he went.

“Come on, sweetie! Let’s get back before the sun sets, so you can see those suncatchers I told you about, and then we can bake that cake, and...”

Lori’s voice trailed off as he walked farther away, and she slid into the car. He glanced back one more time as he walked away from them, meeting the girl’s eyes briefly. She appeared to hesitate for a moment before she moved to open the passenger door. He heard her quiet voice as he rounded the corner,

“Do you always go around picking up strays?”

He couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him at her words, followed by a harsh sniff as he fought against the realization of how right she was. Vhagar had been a stray, before she found him. She had been alone, wandering around outside. It was by pure luck that they had found each other, all those years ago. Now he was alone. He didn’t know where to go now that the sun had set, and he didn’t have any money he could use.

He felt as alone and feral as the stray dogs and cats he used to see around King’s Landing.

He wasn’t proud of it, but after only a few minutes of standing around in the empty lot behind the store, he instinctively began walking in the direction he saw the banged up old car drive off in. It was something, at least. Some thread he could follow that would lead him further into town and towards other, more promising, options. He passed more than a few closed stores and restaurants until he was led to a smaller neighborhood, just a few minutes away from the road he had been following from the motel to the store. It was a small house, with flowers surrounding the narrow walkway and a painted mailbox. He knew it belonged to Lori when he spotted that same station wagon parked underneath a small shelter. He quietly made his way to the back yard.

He couldn’t see much of anything from anywhere in the back yard. He was trying his best to remain concealed, and with the sun setting he was worried his movements would cast too large a shadow and that the two women would see him and think him an attacker. He couldn’t afford to get arrested right now.

He moved as quietly as he could over to the covered porch against the house, near a small kitchen window and out of sight of the larger window nearby. He told himself that he was just ensuring his own safety, of course. He had to keep an eye on a potential threat.

He could see through the window, but only a little bit before the curtains blocked his view. The warm lighting shone through the windows, and through them he could make out two figures sitting in a couple of large chairs, one of them rocking slightly. He jerked back when he heard a shrill meow and noticed a cat inside, scratching at the glass door a few feet away and looking straight at him.

He still had nowhere to go. He moved to sit quietly behind a large tree, hoping that the cat wouldn’t draw too much attention to him once he was out of sight and leaning against the thick trunk and resting for the first time in hours. He felt rather restless, absentmindedly bringing his fingers to his mouth and chewing at the skin around his nails. Some of it had started peeling. When he remembered he had the crackers and gum that Lori had bought for him, he grazed on a few crackers, flinching first at their saltiness and then cursing himself for forgetting to grab himself something to drink on the way to the counter. No more of those. A stick of gum would have to do.

After the sun had fully set, he decided he would be staying there at Lori’s house for the night. Though he did feel rather strange about it, and he was sure that this counted as some kind of law or privacy violation. There were plenty of trees and a covered porch, and he would try to head off the next morning before the sun rose. The truth he didn’t want to admit, not yet, was that he didn’t have any other options and he wouldn’t have accepted any handed to him anyway. He wanted to stick around, see where the girl was going. What she was up to. He felt intrigued, and somewhat angry, and like he had to make sure she didn’t follow him around first. It was better if he could keep his eye on her for the time being, until he was able to deduce how much of a threat she was.

Aemond could hear them talking throughout the night, though he didn't catch all of their conversation, with Lori speaking louder and more frequently than the girl did. The chiming of the windchimes with every breeze blended in with the other sounds and lulled him into a state of comfort and relaxation he wasn’t used to.

He fell into a light sleep after a couple of hours. He wasn’t comfortable, by any means, but it didn’t take long for him to remember how tired he was after the past couple of days. His eyelids slid closed with little resistance. He hadn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time in days. That wouldn’t change tonight.

He was awoken by the sound of someone, panicked, calling someone else’s name. Followed by the soft sounds of crying.

Aemond found himself suddenly worried, standing from his concealed spot and moving over as quietly as he could to look in through the same window, in the hopes that he would be able to see something. He then inched closer and closer to the back screen door where he had seen the cat, squinting his seeing eye to try and see through the flowy lace curtains.

He jumped as the door opened slowly, not long after he had gotten up to investigate. The girl stood in front of him, her eyes red with tears. She barely looked at him before she turned and started walking further into the house again, her voice quiet as she called over her shoulder.

“Come in.”

Thanks for reading!

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