AN:

Hi everyone,

Before I begin, I think people may be getting confused on how to pronounce the OCs name. So, Eilidh is Scottish-Gaelic and yes does mean light and it is pronounced Ay-lee (similar to Haylee). I hope that helps.

I have made another update to the chapter. Again, I am sorry for the changes, but something just wasn't sitting right with me. I hope you like the new scene.

I would like to keep thanking everyone for sticking with me. I have been loving writing this past month and I am thrilled that people are enjoying it. It can get tough, especially when you have to write about terrible things happening to characters you have that connection with but I feel it certainly is helped me immensely having this on paper.

My paracosm has been tough on me sometimes, given how immersive it is so being able to expel that into writing and having people enjoy it is making things so much better so thank you. Anyway, lets get back to the story.

Lots of love,

Shattered Light x

Chapter 5: Bruises

I stared at my stricken form in the mirror the next morning. My eyes were hollow from the lack of sleep as I leant against the door. The sun had already peaked over the horizon before I finally decided that Aegon wouldn't come and cautiously edged into bed. Now only a few hours later, here I stood in front of the mirror, tears stinging my eyes once more. The wound on my head had burst open causing gritty layers of dried blood to mat my locks. I was still in the gown from the night before and grew nauseous at the once beautiful blush. It had turned sickly, like rotten meat. The frayed edges of the bust sat limply under my breasts. I tried to pull them up, fighting the urge break down and scream. So I threw it off me with haste, hating the feeling of the ruined silk on my body, each brush like scraping rocks. I now saw the true extent of the damage. My breasts and throat went purpling from Aegon's attack and my shins were scabbed. There were lumps and red melts on my ribs from where they had been compressed, taking all the colour from my face.

Not wanting to look at myself a moment more I crawled back into bed, bunch up the blankets as high as they would go, attempting to shut out the world.

But it was short lived. The tapping on my door had me flinch and I covered my head hoping it would go away. Instead, I heard the creak as it opened and timid footsteps entering.

"Eilidh?" I sighed in relief. It was Malina. I poked my head out, only to find her knelt at my dress, her fingers tracing over the ripped garment. She looked at me in horror, seeing my ruined state, "Oh my God, what happened?!" She rushed to my side, taking my face in her hands, and inspecting it carefully. She grew graver the more she looked, and I threatened to break down once more, my lip quivering in her tender hands, "Who did this to you?" She demanded. I looked away. I wouldn't say anything. I just wanted to forget the event and to never see that slimy worm again. Malina, sighing, perched herself on the edge of the quilt, her hands holding out to mine. I took them, the blanket falling ever so slightly, revealing more of the stains on my skin, "I'm so sorry," was all she said and so I leant into her dark hair and cried until no tears were left to fall.

After Malina had cleaned me up and forced some warm porridge down my raw throat, she shoved me into the library, hoping that the scraps of papers and smell of dust would bring me some comfort, or at least distraction. I covered myself completely in a dark green silk, shielding all the damage from head to toe, ensuring no one would be able to see the pain he caused me. I was pouring over my High Valyrian when a flash of silver entered my vision. I jumped from my chair, preparing to run, only to gasp in panic at the one eye of Prince Aemond, not Aegon, "The black haired one said I would find you here. It seemed appropriate to begin your lessons promptly." he squinted at me, perplexed at my alarm, before strolling around a corner and vanishing.

I clutched my chest, trying to dull the panic rising. I had to compose myself. I wouldn't let the actions of one drunk man be the breaking of me, no matter the vileness. I would also not let Aemond see my distress. I would not suffer his indifference, I just couldn't. He didn't care for me, nor did he give a shit about anything his brother does. Still, some lessons would be to my benefit and would keep my mind off his kin. I heard his footfalls return, flipping his coat out of the way as he sat. In his hands were several manuscripts he threw onto the desk.

"We will begin on your pronunciation. If you are going to speak like us, you may as well learn how to do it properly. Then we will practice basic nouns before finally simple sentences. Is that understood?" I nodded silently, pulling out ink and parchment.

We sat there until the sun blazed over the highest shelves. Though it was a challenge to get through the lesson with my abused larynx. Each word I spoke cut my throat like glass and though I kept my voice as strong as possible, I knew Aemond was catching on. Though my throat was raw by the time we had finished the text, I felt my mind ease and the panic disappear. Even when Aemond snapped or cursed at my incompetence. Or when the rustle of the parchment behind me made me think his brother has come again. The distraction was welcome and even though Aemond was a prickly demeanour, I would much rather be in his company than anyone else's right now. I didn't want to face Josh's anger or Husnan's pity. I would much rather set my mind to something useful than spending the day wallowing in my room.

After another hour, Aemond leaned back in his seat stretching his arms to the glass ceiling, "You have done adequately for today. Make sure to practice your articulation. You still sound like a Astapori whore."

"And here I thought the Astapori were masters of High Valyrian," I said.

He barked with laughter, "They wish they were."

Rolling my eyes, I gathered my papers, moving my hair aside to sling my new leather bag over my shoulder. Before I could do so, Aemond snatched it from my hand, dumping it on the ground. He came so close, so quickly my breath caught in my throat. Then he grabbed me, drawing me fully towards him. But before I could yell or run, I felt the cold grace of his fingers against the skin of my neck, sweeping the golden tresses of hair from it. It was then I realised he had seen the bruises peeking out from behind the fabric. I tried to pull away, but Aemond held firmly yet softly. This was not like Aegon who had yanked my hair so hard it could have ripped it from my scalp.

No, Aemond was far more dangerous. His eyes bore into me like firelight cutting through shadow. His gaze, which was rooted to my flesh, made me go scarlet. The one hand now tangled in my hair turned to expose my neck to him so he could inspect the bruises carefully. His other had grabbed onto my sleeve steadying my form which was leant so far back I could have hit the floor.

But the chill of his fingers soothed the abused skin and eased my pain. I was able to breathe easier as he coaxed the inflammation away. I was no longer wincing with every word I spoke, and my muscles became stronger. Though I could remain in his cooling touch for hours, I had to remind myself who I was dealing with. I steadied myself, stepping from his healing embrace as he looked at me like stone.

"Who did this to you?" He asked. I stared blankly, knowing that the answer would change nothing. My silence only fueled him further. He grabbed both my arms causing me to yelp and repeated, his voice rising, "Who did this to you?!"

My eyes began to well up, I looked from him shaking my head in anguish. I did not want to see his face. His piercing blue eye, the snow white of his hair so much like the man prayed never to see again. My mind wanted the freedom of my room, to be behind the rocks and bar myself from all Targaryen's who wished to harm me. He let go, defeated. I turned away, trying to rub away the ache that had spread over my body. I stood there and let the tears I had been trying so hard to hold back fall onto the silk of my sleeves.

"It was Aegon, wasn't it," It was barely as whisper, but I nodded, my arms still tight around my chest. The silence was palpable. It crushed into my soul as I wept. Aemond could have left me to wallow in self-pity, but he didn't. He just stood there, frozen and silent. At first, I was angry at him for not letting me be sad in peace. But after a time, I realised that he didn't stay out of malice. He may be cruel and vicious, but he didn't let me be alone.

"My brother is an arrogant, selfish wastrel who cares little for the consequences of his actions. You were a fool to underestimate him. He is a stain on me and my family's legacy." He spat. I could see the cracks of anger forming, his eyes beginning to blaze with rage.

I looked at him in disbelief, "Your family's legacy? That's all you care about." He raised an eyebrow at me which only fueled my anger, "Your brother almost raped me and all you can give a shit about is your family's legacy?!" Now I was yelling. Now I was in his face, yelling, screaming in agony, "You don't care about anyone but yourself! You're selfish and heartless if you believe the worst part of this is the stain on your reputation! I'm the one who was hurt and beaten! I am the one who must not only spend every minute slaving away with you, an empty, monstrous prick of a man, in order to save what few friends I have in this godforsaken hellhole, but now I must also deal with the perverted machinations of your psychotic brother!" I groaned and rubbed my eyes, stinging with the tears which were long gone.

He exhaled sharply, not flinching from the insults I had just spurred his way, only remaining cold and sullen, "If you are that vulnerable then learn to defend yourself. There is no place you will be able to hide where he will not find you. King's Landing is his own personal playground, and he plays his games very well." He pushed himself up and towered himself over my rigid body. His eye was blue fire bringing light into his sullen, flawless features. I tried to hold my raging breath as he spoke, soft words for my ears only, "If you're going to survive, you must be ready for him. He will snuff out what little light you possess. So, make that light your weapon. Steel your mind and always be ready to strike. Beat him at his own game." I felt it inside me like a warming beacon, his words fueling the determination I had to fight.

I would survive Westeros. I would survive Aegon. I would survive everything this world threw at me regardless of the pain or suffering it would cause me. I would keep fighting.

I nodded and he held his head high, his lips curling in approval.

"Good," was all he needed to say.

As I made my way back through the courtyard up to the East Wing, I pondered Aemond's words. He was right, I was in no position to take on Aegon again. He could come out at any moment and take what he wanted from me, and no one would bat an eye. But that didn't mean I had to do nothing about it. Turning from my set course, I instead made for the far stairwell down into the training grounds.

I was met by the clashing of metal and the grunts of the two men sparring as I approached. The swing of their swords was fluid and swift, like falcons cutting through the air. Their hair flung from side to side as they dodged around each other with equal grace and ferocity.

As one of them turned on his heels, he paused at the site of me, giving his brother a chance to whack him in the back with the side of his sword.

"Ah! Damn you Arryk!" Ser Erryk whined as he massaged his shoulder. Arryk chuckled at his victory before acknowledging me.

"Are you alright, My Lady?" He asked.

I stepped out onto the muck of the field and approached them. "Yes, actually I need your help."

"Of course, ask it." Said Erryk.

"I ran into some… altercations last night and I was unable to defend myself. I wish to ask for your aid in training me, to ensure this never happens again."

Arryk walked over to the weapons rack, placing his sword back. "Forgive me, My Lady, but you cannot possibly take up the sword. It is too brutal a weapon fo-"

"For a woman, you mean." I interrupted. He nodded.

"Yes. My appologies, but you are not suited for battle. It just isn't the way it is done here."

I pursed my lips, my voice coming in raged breaths, "You know what is brutal, Ser Arryk? Being choked to an inch of your life. Being thrown and beaten and scarred all for the pleasure of a disgusting creature willing to take all innocence and dignity from you. That is brutal."

Erryk's eyes were wide, he glanced at his brother who was looking away, trying to avoid the searing fire of my gaze, "Who?" He asked.

"You know who."

"Fuck." He whispered. Erryk was pale. No doubt their time as guards to the prince had clued them in on some of his more unsavoury tendencies.

"You know the gravity of this then."

Erryk's voice was low and scared, "Yes, My Lady."

Turning to him, I drew closer pleading, "Then help me, please. I cannot let him take me again, I survived once but he was drunk as a mule, I may not survive again. I have to protect myself and my friends."

He looked at Arryk, silently exchanging concerns. But he simply removed his training gloves and turned to the castle. "It is an unfortunate business, but we still cannot. Come, Erryk. We wish you luck, Lady Eilidh." he said, walking towards the entrance.

Erryk, however, stayed put, "Brother, let's go." Arryk gestured to the castle, pleading at him.

Erryk gave me a weak smile, "She has been through an ordeal. The least I can do is walk her back to her chambers."

Arryk sighed, "Very well but make haste. Our next patrol is on the hour." He slunk back through the gates as Erryk and I walked back up the steps.

We did not speak as we walked back to the East Wing. Though I saw pain in his eyes. The siblings must rarely fight. Their shared comradery in the Kingsguard made them inseparable but Arryk had a stronger sense of duty, while Erryk held a stronger sense of morality. Though the two shared the same face, I could see that they were very separate people and that the cracks in their bond were beginning to show.

"Here we are," We stopped in front of my door, and he graciously pulled it open for me.

"Thank you, Ser."

"You're most welcome, My Lady. But that is not why I escorted you." He shifted awkwardly, "Arryk may not wish to admit it, but you are correct. I have seen Aegon at his worst and he is a monster. You are not safe." He checked down the corridor to see if it was empty.

"So, what do I do?" I asked. He gestured into the room, so I invited him in.

"A scrap of parchment, if you would." I dug into my bag and pulled a small piece of scroll for notes. He scribbled quickly before handing me back the rough sketch.

"On the morrow, take this tunnel below the Keep. Find the skull of Balerion. I will meet you there and we will begin your training." He said hastily.

I looked up agape before beaming at him in gratitude, "Thank you, Erryk."

He returned my smile, pulling open the door, "Don't be late. I still must attend to my other duties."

I nodded eagerly fighting every urge not to bear-hug the poor man. He bowed and took his leave. I shut the door behind him, grinning at the prospect of tutoring from a true knight.

As I lay in bed that night, I closed my eyes and listened to the flapping of wings above and the shouts and drums from the city below. I listened and stilled my heart to the rhythm of the city. I knew that night that if I were to survive this chaotic land then Aemond was right. I must learn to defend myself. Against perverted imbeciles that stalked me in the night. Against the shadows and whispers from the many spies and spiders that lurked through the keep. And against the great beasts that circles above my head bearing down on me, ready to rip me apart. I knew that if I were going to face them all I would have to become greater than secrets or magic. I would have to become greater than the Game and greater than dragon fire.

I would have to become the blazing sun.