#dragonseeded

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑

Summary: Both you and Aemond are held captive. One in a cell, the other with the worst of the dragonseeder. But you still have friends left.

Masterlist (Part 22 - Part 24)

The cell was dark, nothing could be seen except for the faint light the lone torch of the corridor spread from far away. He could hear rats from time to time, and the stink was unbearable.

After the death of his brother, his fury had grown tenfold toward the Blacks. He had marched on Harrenhal, determined to put down his uncle, this insufferable rogue that had taken everything from him, only to discover the place abandoned.

Then Vermithor had appeared in the sky, and Aemond’s wrath had been so great that he almost did not stop himself from taking the great dragon one-on-one, only to learn from the Dragonseed that landed and knelt to him of the attack on his family home.

Some men had claimed to see him turn insane at that moment, others saying that the Prince has finally escalated to utter madness, but it has been nothing as he learnt of the death of his sister, the disappearance of his nephew and niece and of his mother’s imprisonment.

The news had struck him so greatly that he had killed two men of his own in rage before commanding Hugh Hammer to fly to his brother and readying his armies in the south.

It was at this moment that the Dragonseed chose to deliver one last piece of news. You had been taken by the Blacks weeks ago, keeping you hidden as they plotted their attack, certainly thinking that it was too dangerous to meet Vhagar head on for now. They did not want him to come for you too soon and prevent them from launching their attack. 

He had almost beheaded Hugh on the spot, but as he sent him away he realised that nothing would stop the Blacks from harming you or his mother if he besieged the city, if he attacked. It was too dangerous, but he will not yield. So in his madness and his grief, he decided otherwise.

He remembers sending Vhagar away as he gathered his most cunning men, and sneaked into the city, with one goal. He would kill everyone in the Red Keep before they even have the chance to lay a hand on you, the element of surprise at his side as they would never expect him to put Vhagar out of the picture.

But he had been blinded by his thirst for revenge, because the Rogue Prince had been waiting for him all along, the both of them briefly clashing swords before three men had been necessary to restrain him.

Now he was in chains, and his captor had come to taunt him.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Aemond asked as he stood up to mirror the man before him, fists clenched at his sides.

“The Queen insists on having you publicly executed. As much as I wish to be the one to pass Black Sister through your guts, who am I to refuse the deepest desires of my wife?”

Daemon was the kind of man to never be unfazed. How much Aemond desired he could be the one to make him fear for his life.

“Where are the twins?” the older man demanded.

“Why not ask my mother?” retorted the younger one.

“She believes them dead. I will not be the one to tell her otherwise, the viper deserves it for murdering my brother and plotting against us,” Daemon stated in disgust. 

Aemond’s blood started to boil. “If you lay a hand on her you will regret it,” he hissed.

 His captor only stared at him, amused. “Luckily for you, she is still valuable. Women tend to do that,” he established, almost disappointed. “Speaking of women, congratulations are in order, I believe, on your fatherhood,” Aemond’s gaze turned dark, and he desired nothing else than to kill the man. “My wife cannot wait to take your child away, as you did with hers.”

Aemond chains rattled as he rushed to the prison bars, hitting the steel with force. “I will have your head if you harm her! Don’t you dare touch her,” he yelled, meeting his enemy’s arched brow as he did not move an inch at Aemond’s outburst.

“What happens to her is not really up to you any more,” Daemon lied, realising that Aemond did not know that you were no longer under their control. “You had doomed her yourself, by making her yours.”

“Give me a sword and repeat this to me, coward, see what happens,” he growled again against the bars.

“What an interesting prospect! This way I get to kill you myself and Vhagar will be ours much sooner than expected. My daughter could finally claim what was hers, take back what you have stolen when you lost that eye of yours.”

Aemond only stared at him, the thought of Vhagar claimed by another making his skin crawl in jealousy. “Let her try so she can burn like her mother did.”

Daemon’s curved lips disappeared into a thin line, the memory of his second wife ablaze before his eyes still imprinted into his mind. He was barely restraining himself from taking his nephew’s other eye, but forced himself to control his anger.

“I pity the child you had forced upon this earth,” he only stated.

And with that he left, and with him the warmth of the torch he had held to Aemond’s face.

Aemond’s disappearance had plunged the Greens in a violent indignation that had them scream vengeance, the belief that Aegon’s twins were safe somewhere rekindling their determination as they recovered under the banner of Prince Daeron in the south.

Only Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White seemed to be unconcerned by the Black threat and the call of the Greens to war in Harrenhal at present. You had heard of how Hugh had angered the Young Prince Daeron by wearing an iron crown, thinking himself the next king from some prophecy you had never heard of while Ulf was enjoying his time here, in Bitterbridge. Ever since the news that Vhagar’s rider was no more, he had spent his time throwing feasts, sparring in ridiculous tourneys and had sent envoys to Highgarden, restlessly calling them traitors and claiming himself the only one worthy of the place.

This annoyed Addam Vance greatly, who would remain stationed in Bitterbridge until he accomplished the mission Lord Hightower had entrusted him with.

You had barely talked to him, Ulf the White keeping a close eye on you at all times, confining you in your chambers or keeping you close to him while you felt yourself slowly diminish. You felt daily  the aching gap Aemond’s disappearance had created in your heart, and your pregnancy was using most of your strength in this hateful environment. Only when your maid, when she had reported her concerns for your health and the babe’s to her master, slowly witnessing the colours fade from your face, that you had been allowed to have your own time outside, and to walk the castle more freely. You knew that Ulf needed you, and he needed that child. You resented him as much as he was wary of you, but you needed him to keep you alive, and he needed you to stay put. You would oblige, for now.

The gratification of having the sun on your face without suffering Ulf’s presence was your only enjoyment nowadays, reading in the courtyard where you could see the Mander flow at the foot of the high ramparts, your peace barely disturbed by the one soldier watching you. You had been allowed by the new maester to borrow some books from the Caswell library, and you relished yourself in the discovery of a volume about House Gardner that you had never laid a hand upon before. It was a small distraction compared to the hard reality of your predicament, however.

It was only at dinner time, when your captor drank too much and did not pay attention to you, that you were able to discuss more freely with the guests, and fortunately for you, it included Addam Vance. Ulf had him invited to his private meals by decorum, although he made a point in surrounding himself with his men and ignoring him, or even taunting him at times. But the young Lord did not care, his eyes were constantly searching for you, and he took the opportunity of the drunken state of Ulf and the cover of the indecent songs he was too busy singing to talk to you.

He hastily confessed to you that his prime motivation for coming to Bitterbridge has been the promise of Lord Ormund to have Ulf’s forces, along with his dragon, to attack the Vance of Wayfarer.

Indeed, after departing from the siege of Deep Den, Lord Vance had led his army to Atranta, only to find it taken by their other branch’s kin, the Vance of Wayfarer. A fierce battle had ensued and in the midst of the fight, Addam’s father had urged him to ride for help while he would try to negotiate for their reddition. He recounted to you how crushed and angry he had felt when he learnt that his father had been executed and Hugo made prisoner upon arriving at Harrenhal several days later. While Addam was convinced they would marry his malleable brother to one of their own in order to further claim their right to Atranta, he knew that he would not share the same fate, as he remained a threat to both them and the Blacks. He was a doomed man if the Greens failed.

As you gave him your deepest sympathies for his loss, he had taken your hand and smiled sadly, touched by your words, but he admitted to you that his hope for support from Ulf’s side were greatly diminishing. He had been warned by Prince Daeron that the Dragonseeder was a man wrapped up around himself, and as a betrayer, hence possessed frail honour. In fact, he informed you that the two betrayers were a recurrent talk within the Green Council’s meetings. They irritated both Daeron and Criston Cole greatly, and Addam confided in you that he believed the rumours that a group of conspirators was planning to get rid of them both to be true. You nodded at this claim, not in the slightest surprised. Ulf had angered both Highgarden and the Crown for some time now. As far as you were concerned, he had it coming, drunk in the power of his dragon. Then, Addam had talked to you about his second motivation to come to Bitterbridge.

“I do not understand why the royal family allowed a valuable member of their family such as you to fall into the hands of this degenerate, but I assure you that I won’t let you decline in this cursed place.” His voice was controlled, anger kept at bay as he was staring daggers at the back of Ulf’s head. Your heart sped up in your chest.

“You cannot risk this my friend, you are outnumbered, and he has a dragon. You’ve seen what he does to those who cross him,” you had whispered back ardently, not wishing for his already gloomy fate to be more darkened because of you. Addam glanced back at you, his fingers still on your hand.

“I regret the short time we had in King’s Landing. I should have been more vehement with my wish to make you mine. I will forever regret this.” He seemed sad now, watching your tired state and resenting what you had undoubtedly suffered during the past weeks.

Stunned by his words of affection, you found yourself unable to reply, and were soon forced to let go of his hand when Ulf’s song ended and his head came back to observe you, now suspicious of the proximity you had with Addam. You let nothing appear as he declared the dinner over, dismissing his guests and all rose in the racking sounds of chairs. In the agitation you almost missed the breath of Addam on your neck as he whispered:

“There are people willing to help you. Look inside the pages of the faith, my Lady.”

Before you could even move or look at him, you felt him walk away from you and leave the room, his last words echoing in your head.

Rare were the sleeps that were not plagued by nightmares, the most recurrent one being the blurry image of Aemond on his knees before the Iron Throne, seconds before being executed by the Rogue Prince, screaming in pain. It was in those moments when the affliction present in your heart was the most painful, like someone had ripped it out of your chest.

But some other nights, your dreams were composed of familiar sounds: the flapping of wings, the squeals of Vhagar, the fear she imposed in her enemies’ souls, and the noise she made when she landed on steady ground. Those nights you could not help but wonder where the great dragon was, if she missed her rider as much as you missed him.

On the morrow, the words of Addam still in your mind, you had requested of the maester to borrow another book for your own personal use: The Seven-Pointed Star, the holy book of the faith of the Seven. “Look inside the pages of the faith.”

Heart beating fast, you had waited to settle yourself in your usual spot in the courtyard, where you knew you would not be bothered, and you opened the book, browsing through the pages to find what you were looking for.

A single piece of parchment had been put there, quite recently as you touched the still damp ink. You examined it, your eyes going from the drawing of the badger on top of it to the thin writing underneath it: “At the hour of the wolf, your door will be unbarred. Go to the kitchen, remain unseen.”

Your fingers shook in fear that someone would come to you at this very moment and discover the parchment, so you tucked it in your robes hastily and looked around to ensure no one saw you. The gaze of your guard fixed on the entrance of the courtyard and not on you put your heart at ease and you allowed yourself to relax, caressing the cover of the old manuscript.

The sketch of the badger left no doubts: it was meant for you. Was it a trap? You considered unlikely, Addam being the one to provide you with such a plan, and in any case, your desire to escape Bitterbridge was so great that you were prepared to endure anything that might come. Tonight, you will be prepared.

You had dismissed your maid, insisting you undress and bath yourself for tonight, a demand that had made her frown and leave with a suspicious look. But in reality, you had only put on your travelling cloak and had waited, looking at the torches shining outside your windows on the walls below, nervously caressing your swollen belly.

When the castle had quietened and only the barking of dogs could be heard from afar, you heard the distinct noise of wood and understood that someone had unlocked your door. You waited anxiously for the door to open, but when nothing happened, you rose up to your feet and walked to it, listening attentively for any sound that might come from the other side, but when nothing else came but silence, you slowly opened it. The weak light of a torch could be seen at this end of the corridor, you walked towards it cautiously, speeding up when you realised who was carrying it, his eyes ensuring that no one was there.

“You must make haste, this way, my Lady.”

Addam’s soft voice echoed through the walls as he led you to the stairs, eyes always careful of his surroundings as you followed him.

“How…?” you whispered as you reached the railing. Addam’s touch went soft against your arm.

“I could not have lived with myself if you were left in this place and had done nothing about it,” his gaze was warm, diving into your very soul. “As I said my lady, you have taken an important place in my heart, and I want you to be happy, even if it is not by my side.”

Gratitude overwhelmed you as he gently pushed you forwards.

“Go, do not make a sound and all will be well.”

“You are not coming with me?” you asked, turning back.

“I have to remain here in case something goes wrong. I was not supposed to make myself known to you in the first place. Now you must go!”

Before you could stop yourself, your body moved up to his and you reached for his neck, depositing a tender kiss on the side of his face, making him still in place. You tried to convey as much affection as you could in your gesture, feeling Addam melt into your touch. His hand came to rest on yours as you pulled back, blushing and eyes full of joyfulness.

“Thank you,” you said.

He only managed to nod as he watched you go down the stairs and disappear, wondering if he would ever see you again.

You had been in the lower levels only once, and you had difficulty finding your path in the dark as you walked on the stone tiles, but soon you had arrived downstairs, and even though you thought it odd that not a single soul had crossed your path, the hope of close freedom had dispelled all of your worries.

Before the kitchen doors, you reached for the doorknob, ready to enter when a cloaked figure approached you, and you had to slap your hand over your mouth to stop your scream. The figure put a finger over his mouth, silently urging you to remain silent, and proceeded to take you by the arm and lead you to an adjacent corridor. You walked as quietly as your guide, observing him for any signs of danger but you were soon before a door that led to the outside, the cold air taking hold of your skin. In the faint moonlight, you could now see who was under the hood.

“Ser Sterron?!”

The man bowed slightly, glad that you had recognised him but clearly in a hurry to move as quickly as possible.

“Indeed, my Lady. Your father had ordered me to retrieve you,” he declared in a huff voice as he led you by the arm. “Some of my men are waiting across the river, we must make haste before someone notices that you are gone.”

You felt so relieved, being near someone you knew, someone familiar to your House that you nearly cried of joy.

“How can I thank you…”

“I am not the one you need to thank. Without that Vance Lord, I would never have been able to reach you, least of all get you out.”

You smiled. You hoped Addam would be able to leave soon as well. But then you remembered what would happen if you lingered more, the threat of what Silverwing would do to you and Ser Sterron if his rider discovered you making you shiver. So you followed the knight in the dark.

He helped you down the river bank, hoisting you on a rack that allowed for two people to board and he rowed until you reached the other side of the river, taking care in not stumbling on the mud.

“My men are that way, stay low, we are too close to the bridge.”

You looked up and on the side, seeing the stone bridge only metres away on your right, but then you saw torches floating in the dark, and you stopped in your tracks at once.

At least a dozen men were standing on the bridge, some with swords in their hands, and some at your greatest disarray, had crossbows.

Ser Sterron froze as well, hearing the men approach, but he turned around and made for the bridge, unsheathing his own sword and pointing it at the newcomers. Dread filled your whole body as your protector was now the only one preventing them from crossing the river and get to you.

“Where are you going at such an hour, Lady Lydden?”

The gruff voice of Ulf made you cringe, but you stood your ground, the protective hand of Ser Sterron stopping you from taking another step toward them.

“And who are you?” the Dragonseeder asked, a delirious smile on his lips. “Her saviour? I apologise good Ser, but she belongs to me now. So hand her over and I will spare you.”

The man next to you did not move a muscle, and you knew he was actively thinking of a way out, realising that the odds of two against a dozen armed men were not good. Behind the horde on the bridge, you saw the familiar face of your maid, looking at the scene from afar, and you understood how Ulf had known. She had known you were up to something. Your thoughts went to Addam, praying that he had not been discovered.

“You had no right to claim her as your own. Do the right thing, let her go and let her child be born in a better place than in this grim castle,” the Lydden man demanded.

Ulf’s face went rigid. You knew you had little time, his patience was thin and you saw no escape from this situation, the other men Sterron had spoken of nowhere to be seen.

“This child will be mine. Now surrender or suffer a worse fate than death.”

As soon as the menacing words left his mouth, a loud roar echoed through the sky, rooting everyone into place as all heads rose up to look upwards.

A huge winged form was sliding into the sky, its powerful wings sending whirls of wind over the men below right before it circled them and landed roughly at the edge of the bridge in a loud thud, taking its place behind you, its long neck stretching menacingly over the stone structure.

Vhagar’s landing had sent both you and Ser Sterron on the ground, the force of her body shaking the earth. Her amber eyes were fixed on Ulf and his men, most of them having taken several steps back in fear, scattering beyond the bridge as one of her wings loomed protectively over you. She roared again, making the soldiers raise trembling weapons at her. Only Ulf had stood his grounds, and you did not know if it was courage or madness. In both cases, you were glad to see the dread and utter distaste in his eyes.

Standing up again, the Lydden knight advanced further, levelling with Vhagar’s head, his sword raised at Ulf.

“C’mon, call your dragon. Let's see how long this one will toy with it before it gets killed.”

The thought of becoming dragonless must have struck Ulf hard as he remained silent, glancing between you, safely lodged under the she-dragon and behind Ser Sterron, and Vhagar, whose fangs were more and more apparent as the conversation lasted. You knew he would not risk the life of Silverwing. You knew that he had always considered Aemond and his dragon to be one of the only threats to him.

Least of all, he had not expected Vhagar to come for the one who carried his blood.

“Go my Lady. Straight ahead,” Ser Sterron whispered to you as everything seemed frozen in place. “My men will escort you to safety.”

“You are mistaken if you think I will depart without you, Ser,” you blurted out, dreading for his fate if you left now.

At this moment, Vhagar extended her long scaled neck again in a threatening manner, eliciting cries of panic among the men as she flapped her wings aggressively, and in the chaos, Ser Sterron took it as a sign and followed you.

As you ran into the night, the rim of a wooden area where the Lydden men had taken cover became visible to you, you risked a glance back.

The light of the torches were scattered beyond the bridge, hastily retreating as Vhagar advanced one last time further onto the stone path. You heard one last wail before you found the quietness of the trees, Bitterbridge out of view.

-0- Part 24

A/N: Writing a chapter without Aemond in it made me feel empty, but it was necessary.

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[dragonseeded]

#DRAGONSEEDED  […]  private  roleplay  blog  for  viserra waters    ———    an  original  character  of  the  song  of  ice  and  fire  series,   bastard  of  daemon  targaryen  and  mysaria.  minors  do  not  interact;  will  feature  canon  typical  triggers,  including  incest.

→ KING'S LAW.

→ DOSSIER.

→ STARTER CALL.

→ ASOIAF VERSE.