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Abandon All Hope - Chapter 3 (Alone and Forsaken)

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Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical. Description of canon injuries (Aemond). See tags on AO3 for more.

The Queen’s chambers were as they always had been, though Aemond had expected nothing different. His mother’s chambers hadn’t changed for as long as he could remember. There was her grand bed to one side, where he’d often run to for comfort as a boy. The two couches with a table in between, where Helaena often sat when she brought the twins to visit his mother. The green draperies around her windows, the seven-pointed star ornaments and statues of the Seven scattered about the room, the neat stacks of papers and missives at her desk, all of it was familiar and as it ever was. 

Even the large, round table that servants had brought into his mother’s rooms was not entirely out of place. It was a common addition on the occasions that his mother requested they join her for a meal when she wished for more privacy than even the smaller dining halls of the Red Keep could offer. Yet despite the unchanging landscape of his mother’s rooms, shadows danced at the edges of his blind spot, growing larger and bolder at the threat of what the day would bring. 

Aemond absentmindedly adjusted the leather strap of his eyepatch as he took a seat across from Helaena and his younger brother, Daeron. To Helaena’s left sat his mother, and across from her, an empty seat where Aegon ought to have been. It appeared his mother hadn’t the patience to drag her eldest son from his bed that morn. If he even made it back to his chambers last night. If he hadn’t joined them by then, Aegon wouldn’t be joining at all.

It was no matter. His youngest brother Daeron made for far better company than Aegon. He’d arrived just the day before from Oldtown, and the last Aemond had seen of Daeron he’d been awkward and gangly, having just turned ten-and-two. Now, his younger brother was nearly of a height with Aemond, muscled from his time squiring for Lord Ormund and tanned from time spent in the sun. His hair, silver like the rest of his siblings, brushed his shoulders, and he had a small scar above his brow. 

Curious, Aemond had asked Daeron about the scar after their evening meal the previous night. “One of the older squires hit me with his blunted sword not even a moon after I arrived,” Daeron had explained. It sat above his left brow, and it escaped neither of them that the scar was on the same side of his face as Aemond’s. He’d seen his younger brother regarding the leather patch as he spoke, and Aemond had made himself scarce before Daeron could open his mouth to say anything.

As Aemond took his seat, Daeron paused briefly to greet him before continuing with his conversation. “Lord Ormund says I might be knighted before the year is out. There’s hardly anyone who can best me. Even Lord Ormund struggles at times.” He didn’t bother to swallow his mouthful of food before speaking, and their mother eyed him with thinly veiled disgust. 

“I do hope my cousin will remember to teach you manners,” their mother chided. Daeron muttered an apology and sheepishly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and Aemond’s lips twitched in amusement.

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