Chapter 19

The sound of the tight slap that Otto Hightower just gave his grandson reverberated through the tower of the hand.

The blow was so hard that it displaced his eyepatch. It took Aemond a moment to recover from the not so unexpected blow before quickly positioning his leather patch he turned to his mother, who unlike other times did not rush to his defence. Instead she remained seated on a chair by the window, looking outside. But Aemond could clearly see tears brimming her eyes.

"DO YOU EVEN REALIZE THE GRAVITY OF YOUR ACTION?" Otto bellowed. His rising voice caused his daughter to flinch, however his grandson remained unfazed.

"NOT ONLY YOU ATTACKED A SON OF THE HOUSE BEESBURY UNPROVOKED, YOU CUT OFF HIS HAND. CAUSING A DAMAGE THAT IS PERMANENT."

"How could you, of all people have done something so brutal…?" His mother joined, wiping her tears. Her skin crawled thinking about it. "…What were you thinking Aemond?"

"I wasn't thinking, I acted." He admitted. His face stoic, devoid of any remorse. "My sister was in danger. And somebody needed to do something. Since her betrothed is too much of a craven to—"

Aemond was cut off mid sentence by his mother who suddenly rose from her seat, roaring.

"AEMMA WAS NOT IN DANGER! IN A ROOM SO CROWDED NO ONE WOULD DARE LAY A FINGER ON HER."

"HE DID!" Aemond shouted back matching his mother's tone. "THAT BASTARD DID! I'VE SEEN IT WITH MY OWN EYE."

"Princess Aemma herself testified that Werryn Beesbury posed no threat to her." Otto revealed, shaking his head in rage.

"She's a child! What knowledge does she harbour about a man's depravity?"

Ignoring him Otto continued. "Your recklessness is not only costing the crown an additional hefty sum of gold during such dire times but it has also put Daeron and Aemma's betrothal at risk. The Beesbury's aren't satisfied with just the compensation the crown has offered. They even asked for Princess Aemma's hand for Werryn Beesbury."

Aemond's face darkened and the air in his lungs all but vanished. Now that strike a blow harder than the slap he received earlier. Making him almost stumble back as a flood of emotions suddenly whipped against his skull.

"And have you agreed?" He demanded, fanatically searching his grandsire's stoney gaze but the man gave him no reply. Instead he opted to walk to his desk, settle down and sigh tiredly.

"Don't tell me he has agreed?" Aemond turned his attention to his mother. She too did not face him, kept looking at the fire instead.

A few beats of silence passed, the air thick with tension, before Aemond spoke with a new found clarity. "The King will never allow this match."

"The King will also not pleased to hear about your course of action." Otto retaliated rubbing his forehead.

The Prince strode over to his grandsire's desk and slammed down his hands. A dangerous glint flashing in his singular eye as his asked for the final time.

"Have. You. Agreed?" Each word was punctuated to a hiss to intimidate the old man.

But the old man in question was no musical instrument that he could be so easily played. Otto Hightower did not even budge. In fact it made him speak more strictly.

"Whether we agreed or not, that is no concern of yours, Prince Aemond."

"Matters regarding Aemma are my concern, Ser Otto." He sneered.

"Terms have not been set yet. Discussions are still ongoing." Alicent hastily cut in.

Otto glanced briefly at his daughter, watching her turn and close the gap between herself and her son in few long rushed steps. And then slowly he looked back upon his grandson.

"I know for a fact Aemma won't be given away to them. Your father will never allow it." Alicent continued with her attempts to calm her boy. While Otto watched disappointed.

His daughter was giving into the whims of a mother and consoling her son for nothing. What is this reassurance for? When the girl in question is not even his betrothed to begin with. Which why he stepped in once again, to remind the mother and son of the crucial factor which both of them seemed to have forgotten.

"It would be wise and appropriate for you to not focus too much on Princess Aemma. Lest you forget, she's your younger brother's betrothed and you my Prince, have your own betrothed to worry about. Might I add, she is quite upset with you. Best make amends with her as soon as you can."

Aemond looked back at his grandsire, the thread that was holding him together, snapped! Alicent was quick to grab hold of his arm, thus preventing whatever he had clouding his mind. Because in that moment Aemond looked every bit ready to strike down the Hand of the King. And Alicent was not ready to have her son reduced to a kinslayer. Aemond didn't move, but that doesn't mean his eye wasn't tearing his grandsire to shreds. However, it was in this moment that one after another realization drawn in on him. Aemond finally understood that for him it was a no-win situation.

Even if she doesn't get betrothed to the Beesbury boy, Aemma still remains betrothed to the least deserving Daeron. While he is tossed a bone in the form of Maris Baratheon. When in truth, they both deserve better. They deserve each other. So as the older one he must do something.

After all as the older brother, it is his duty to save her.

With that thought settled at the back of his mind, Aemond pulled out of his mother's grasp and walked away. On his way out he even heard his grandsire call him 'insolent pup', even then he didn't turn. He walked out too calmly for someone who was ready to strike down Otto Hightower mere moments before.

Meanwhile inside Aegon's chamber:

The act of consummation continued under the observation of the High Septon, grand marster Orwyle, Larys Strong and Lady Lyanne. Everyone who had previously gathered had been escorted out. Time for celebration is over, now the married pair was only performing their duty.

Aegon continued to thrust, keeping his face buried on the pillow so that he does not have to look at his sister. As she lay beneath him, with her legs spread and her body drenched from sweat that dripped from his body.

Helaena made no sound even though her face twisted in discomfort and pain many at times. She simply just lay there like a corpse keeping her gaze fixated on the ceiling while waiting for her husband to finish.

Aegon growled again and gave two last thrusts that released him from the tension that had occurred in his lower stomach.

Understanding that the act is finished, the three men present in the chamber made their exit one by one. Only lady Lyanne stayed back.

Pulling himself out of his wife Aegon rolled to the side. After regaining his composure he left the bed and began to dress in haste. From the corner of his eyes he observed the older woman approach his sister— now wife; who remained unmoving from the position he left her in. For a moment there Aegon wondered if she was still alive. But he did not stick around to find out.

Lady Lyanne cleaned her up and changed her into fresh sleeping clothes. Gave her a cup of warm milk to drink while she combed her hair.

"Would you care for company tonight Princess?"

"Company...?" Helaena stared at lady Lyanne confused. Aegon left, so who was she referring to?

"The incident earlier has left your sister in trauma. I'm certain being in your presence would be as soothing for her as it would be for you."

"Yes, I want my sister. Take me to her."

"Of course Princess."

"Aemma… Aemma… Aemma…"

She faintly heard a familiar voice incessantly calling her. Simultaneously felt a large callused hand urgently shaking her. Possibly due to over exhaustion, her body was finding it increasingly difficult to respond to either methods. She stirred at some point though, only to slap the hand away.

But it did little to deter the voice, that was determined have her awake. She was barely able to crack open just one of her eye upon feeling a hand go behind her neck and pull her up.

"Aem-Aemond…?" She asked, unsure whether it was actually him. Through the blurry vision of her sleep induced eyes she was barely able to make out his face.

"Tis me." He clarified, sensing her confusion and held the cup to her lips. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?"

"Milk," He pressed the cup further into her lips, almost forcibly pushing it in. Determined not to give up after reaching this far. "…now finish it." He ordered, gritting through clenched teeth. Getting frustrated at her reluctance.

"I don't recall asking for milk." Aemma pondered, trying to remember when had she asked for milk to be brought to her. More importantly why was it Aemond doing the task instead of Lady Lyanne or her new handmaiden Meredith.

Her brows furrowed as she heard him murmur the words "good girl."

Before she could fully comprehend what exactly was taking place, her senses alerted to the odd smelling and tasting milk that was slugging down her throat.

As her blurry vision somewhat adjusted, she noted, half his face was covered in the shadow of the dark cloak he had worn and immediately understood he was up-to no good. She began struggling right away, blinking away whatever remnants of sleep that were clouding her eyes. Her hands kept pushing against his chest, her legs began kicking in the air and her head did everything to push the cup away.

But alas! She started a little too late. By then half the content of the cup was in her belly and its reaction already beginning to take root.

"Believe me, tis for your own good sweet sister." Was the last thing she heard Aemond say before darkness completely consumed her.

He held Aemma's senseless body against his chest tightly. His head trying to outweigh the wrong by justify with his heart that it was indeed the right path to take. It is the truth, that hearts would be broken. Humiliation is to be faced as it would bring vast shame upon his house. Still Aemond found himself not caring, because he was doing it all for Aemma, for her betterment.

Daeron does not deserve Aemma! He will never deserve her. With every day that goes by Aemond becomes firm in that belief of his.

Slowly, a rare faint smile touched his lips, transforming his face with a warmth that contrasted beautifully with his otherwise steely-aloof-forbidding demeanor.

But when it comes to him, Aemond himself does not only want her or need her. He deserves her! He deserves her the most. She was his. By the way of his mind, his heart and his soul she belonged to him and him only.

So he decided… he will take her.

Thus he began to consider the possibility of leavening. Get away from this wretched family which only knows how to take from them and never give back. Undoubtedly it was the hastiest decision Aemond had ever taken, but probably the best. They could flee to Essos, Lys in particular. Where they will easily blend in the sea of blonde Lyseni population. There, he will raise Aemma. And in time she will realize how much he has done for her — forsaken his life as a prince, gave up his morals and abandoned his mother and Helaena. Following the realization will come the understanding that they are best suited for each other. Then they shall create their own family. Their own faction of the Targaryen line.

A moaning noise shook Aemond out of his musings. With a swift turn of his head his eye looked to the floor, focussing on the unconscious form of the serving girl who was beginning to stir. For reasons he could not understand, Aemond felt conflicting emotions. He did not intend on killing an innocent person but the blow to the head which he gave her with the hilt of his dagger was definitely hard. Well now it seems like it wasn't such a hard blow, considering how quickly she was regaining her senses.

Instinctively, Aemond tightened his hold on Aemma and rose cradling her. He was aware that not a breath was to be wasted till he reaches Vhagar and needed to be out of here before the maid comes to her senses.

Determined not to give up, carefully he placed Aemma on his shoulder and headed straight for the passageway that led to the closest way out.

They were almost at the door, just few steps away.

The King's-guard stationed outside was just about to open the door when Helaena suddenly froze to the ground. Her eyes wide with terror as she said the following.

"She has been taken away."

The king's-guard and Lady Lyanne, both having heard the Princess shared a look amongst themselves. Assessing the meaning behind those words. The king's-guard then opened the door and Lady Lyanne walked in, presuming Helaena would be following, but the Princess simply turned on her heels, heading for a different direction.

Soon as Lady Lyanne stepped inside she froze. Her heart began rapidly pounding her chest, her eyes also widened, mimicking the way the Helaena's did as it landed upon the maid Meredith— who now lay unconscious on the floor, bleeding through the ear. She did not have to look at the bed to know it was empty.

Summoning her remaining strength she barked out her orders at the King's guard. "Alert everyone and fetch a maester for the maid."

And then she rushed out of the chamber, trying to catch up with Helaena. Even before she could manage to reach Helaena, commotion slowly began stirring throughout the Red Keep.

"Princess Helaena!" The older woman exclaimed, running after the younger. "Please wait!"

Helaena did not wait. She continued walking. Till Lady Lyanne managed to grab hold of her arm and caused the Princess to halt in her steps. Turning Helaen glared and snatched her arms free.

"How were you aware of your sister's absence?"

"As we speak, he is taking her away."

Her response certainly was of no help but Lyanne knew she could not wait around for Helaena give her an understandable reply. Time was crucial now, not a breath should be wasted. So she quickly asked the next question.

"By any means have you any idea as to who it is so daring to have abducted a Princess from her bedchamber?"

Helaena didn't respond. She resumed walking. This time she was moving at an amazing speed, her night shift swishing past as she tried to get to her destination sooner.

"Princess Helaena, if you have any clue I need you to tell me." Lady Lyanne struggled to keep up with the Princess's brisk speed.

Soon enough they found themselves inside the mazed tunnels of the Keep. The environment dark and eerie, dimly lit by few torches here and there.

"Princess…?" Lady Lyanne called again. The rest of the question remained unasked.

Helaena met the older woman's gaze finally before she pointed her finger straight ahead and Lyanne followed.

Initially there was no one but that changed shortly after when they saw a dark cloak cladded figure approaching. Carrying a smaller figure on one of the shoulder. Lyanne's breath was caught in her throat while her body went into a state of numbness upon recognizing who it was.

"Prince Aemond…?" She called out the Prince in utmost disbelief.

The mentioned Prince stopped a good distance away from them. Prompting lady Lyanne to step forward and demand him to return his younger sister and return to his chamber like a decent boy.

His expression shifted, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Another step forward by lady Lyanne and the Prince unsheathed his dagger pointing it straight at her.

Concealing the fear to the best of her ability the older woman spoke again, her voice softer than before and the tone was more of pleading. Pleading the Prince to come back to his senses and do the right thing. But Aemond only orders her to step back to which she complies.

As Lady Lyanne takes a step back, so does Aemond; before completely turning around and sprinting off the way he came. Knowing full well that soon the red Keep will be a storm of panic and rage. He needed to reach Vhagar before that.

The Red Keep was indeed a storm of panic and rage. However that ruction has not made it to the Tower of the Hand yet.

Unbeknown about the situation currently unfolding, Otto Hightower was just about to retire, but was interrupted by the urgent knock at his door. Moments later the door opened with the King's-guard announcing the arrival of the Lord Commander. Harold Westerling entered after the announcement and the look of his face was enough for the Hand to understand how dire the matter could be.

Otto quietly listened to the Lord commander, calmly processing everything. To say he was surprised wouldn't exactly be accurate, given what had occurred during the bedding ceremony tonight. The scoundrel had cut off an innocent boy's hand for approaching his sister. Now the Hand was regretting not having more guards stationed outside the Princess's chamber. He felt like an idiot for not having anticipated such roguish attempt by the Prince. He should have taken into consideration, judging by the craze glint the boy had on that one eye. Mayhaps like everyone he too, seems to have forgotten the boy's true nature hidden beneath the mask of the dutiful Prince.

"Send out forces to all corners of the city. In street of sisters, make sure to cover from Rhaenys's Hill to Visenya's hill. Street of flour's bakeries and street of silk's establishments must throughly searched. Have cover on Gods' Way, King's Way and Muddy Way. Not even Flea bottom is to be missed. And send another bunch to where Vhagar is situated. That is where we know for a fact the Prince will be headed sooner or later. But remember, he must be caught before he reaches that beast."

With a stiff bow the Lord commander quickly left. And Otto rose to his feet massaging his forehead.

In the meantime Queen Alicent was with her husband, reading to him, as she used to do to the old King Jahaerys.

The King was almost asleep. Attending both the wedding ceremony and the celebration afterwards had taken a toll on his weak health. As he still hasn't fully recovered after the procedures. The maester on duty has already fed him a small cup of milk of poppy, only then he was able to relax. And to add more to his comfort Alicent began reading to him.

Just as she was about to turn the page, the door suddenly opened and Criston Cole marched in quick stride. He whispered into the Queen's ear and her expression quickly changed. Slamming the book shut and asking the maester to look after the King she left with her sworn protector.

Most residents of the Red Keep were woken by the uproar outside their chambers. Some even stepped out to check what was going on, only to find the King's-guards running around. For reasons not disclosed some residents' and guests' chambers were searched.

Cregan Stark fell into the group of those whose chambers were searched. Reluctantly he complied, having an understanding that it was a matter of utmost urgency. Fortunately for him the guard searching his chamber was a chatty one, who without a second thought revealed when asked by the northerner: Princess Aemma is missing. Prince Aemond is responsible for it.

Inside their chamber, Floris opened the window and saw a bunch king's-guards running around in search of something or someone with the assistance of a pair of hounds. She woke up Ellyn, who in turn woke up Cassandra and together the three sisters watched trying to figure out what was happening. Whom were the White Cloak's so relentlessly searching for?

Keeping his head down Aemond moved through the street of loom.

For as long as possible he did his best to avoid unwanted attention. But it was easier said than done. He may have been successful in concealing his appearance by hiding the his hair under the dark cloak and keeping his head down to prevent the eyepatch from giving away his identity. However, the person he was carrying on his shoulder, even in state of unconsciousness was drawing far more attention than he had anticipated. Left and right people were looking at him suspiciously. Her silvery hair alone was doing the wonders. Adding to more was the expensive fabric of her sleeping clothes. He couldn't blame the smallfolks for looking at him so suspiciously. He looked no less than a goon who abducted a pretty girl.

Aemond was desperately hoping he could get by but realized it was less likely the case when an old man called him out. Right then Aemond decided to change his path. Not daring risk the outcome. He may have been able to ignore the old man, but doesn't necessarily mean the next person inquiring would be an easy one.

With divergence, the Prince found himself navigating through the streets of silk.

Little did he know then, the trouble that awaited him here.

Entering Aemma's chamber Alicent found her father along with Larys Strong, questioning the maid. Lady Lyanne and Helaena were also both present. The latter seated on the edge of the bed and the former standing behind her protectively.

Sitting next to Helaena, Alicent reached out took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Like she was reassuring her daughter not to fret, because her mother was with her. Helaena however reacted no differently. She pulled her hand away as if she were repulsed by the touch.

To conceal the hurt and disappointment Alicent redirected her focus to the other occupants in the chamber. Her eyes particularly narrowing in on the maid sitting on the floor on her knees, elaborating to the Hand her account.

And the more Alicent listened, the deeper she frowned.

"What are you insinuating girl?" The Queen sharply interrupted, earning the attention of everyone in the room. As she tried to dismiss whatever insinuation the maid was making. "The Prince was within his own right to visit his sister."

"Certainly!" This time Lady Lyanne spoke up in defence of the maid. "However he has no business sticking around when his sister sleeps."

Alicent briefly locked her gaze with Larys Strong, hoping he would come to her defence. Of course he didn't. She then looked at her father. Otto Hightower took a deep breath. Irritated at his daughter's attempt to defend the boy even now.

"The Prince seems to be drawing inspiration from his uncle quite the lot." The clubfoot commented, itching the side of jaw as he leaned, putting more pressure onto his cane.

"My son is no brazen like Daemon Targaryen." Alicent glared at him and protested fiercely. "Why have we reached the conclusion that Aemond is behind this. How are we not considering the Beesbury? They have every reason to take my daughter after…" she trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence without putting the blame on her son.

Otto pinched the bridge of his nose.

"To answer your question your grace, the Beesburys are occupied with their boy right now, to come up with such bold schemes. Besides, abducting a Princess is indisputably an act of treason. Surely they are aware of the dreadful consequences to be faced with later." Alicent could almost taste the smug bemusement that rested within clubfoot's tone. The slight quirk of his mouth, the manner in which he spoke— his sympathies for the Queen as a mother were nonexistent.

Alicent's attempt at speaking was dismissed by her father. "Just listen to the maid, Alicent. Her words are crucial at this point."

Swallowing her rage and pride the Queen refocused on her daughter's handmaiden, whom she personally assigned.

"Your grace," The maid Meredith, addressed the Queen directly. "The Prince wasn't here when I put the Princess to bed. The Princess was tired, fell asleep just as I tucked her in under the sheet. Then I left to retrieve Princess's clothes from washerwoman. As I returned, I found Prince Aemond standing in that corner," she pointed at the exact spot for all to see. "emptying a vial into the cup."

The mentioned vial was found on the ground of that pointed corner, further proving the maids words to be true. And the cup was found under the bed.

"I was taken aback by the Prince's presence. He however was calm and ordered that I carry out the task in hand…" The maid paused, fidgeting her hands, aware of all the scrutinizing eyes on her. "As I continued to fold the Princess's clothes I felt the Prince coming closer but before I could turn I felt a strong blow to my head… thus was consumed by darkness."

"So you have not actually seen Prince Aemond take the Princess?"

"No your grace. I…" The maid trailed off, not sure what else to say. She nervously looked at everyone else for help.

"My daughter is taken. She could be with the slavers. They could kill her. Mayhaps sell her to a brothel in Essos or some vile lords in any of the free cities." Alicent exhaled an exasperated breath. "And yet you're wasting the valuable time putting such vile accusations against the Prince—"

A soft voice interfered. "But I have."

All heads snapped to Helaena. And Lady Lyanne looked her with a sense of pride.

"What did you say?" Alicent's rage turned to confusion as she muttered in disbelief.

"He took the underground passageway. we both have seen him take her." The Princess continued, dancing between herself and Lady Lyanne. "Lady Lyanne even confronted him, but… he pointed his dagger at her."

"None of it actually sounds like Aemond."Alicent spoke in disbelief. It was hard to distinguish whether it was her disappointment speaking or it was her ultimate attempt to come at her deranged boy's defence.

"Yes none of it does Alicent!" Otto interjected firmly. Addressing the Queen by her name. Because this time it wasn't the Hand of the King speaking, it was her father speaking, who was gravely disappointed at his daughter.

"And yet he has cut off another boy's hand over what— showing interest to court his sister! So for him to be accused of abducting the same sister over whom all the brawl began, in the span of mere hours shouldn't come as a surprise." He ended up openly scolding his daughter.

Leaving her completely defeated.

His heart was beating fast and hard. The anxiety coursing through his blood was giving him the push to keep moving faster.

Just a few more steps! Aemond kept repeatedly muttering to himself as he picked up his pace in the street of silk.

However, here it was much better in comparison to the street of loom. Scattered around him were the bodies covered in cheap fragrances or sweat or the horrendous mix of both that wafted about the entire street. People were far too drunk or cockstuck-cuntstruck to pay attention to him— a shadowy figure, easily blended into the darkness of the night.

Just a few more steps!

His pace increased. It was at the stage between running and briskly walking.

It was all looking good that was until a figure bumped into him from his blindside.

"Watch where you're going twat!"

Aemond's steps met an abrupt halt. He froze recognizing the voice. Although it shouldn't have come as a surprise, running into Aegon in these streets is no anomaly. This is his home far more than the red keep is.

Shaking away his thoughts. Aemond began to move once more. Now, swifter than before, realizing he needed to get out of here fast!

"Hey! Where do you go without apologizing?!" Aegon barked.

Shit! Aemond gritted his teeth. Last thing he needed now was to have his older brother on his tail.

"I am the Prince of the realm! You cannot walk away just shoving me!" He began to follow. "Wait bastard!"

Fuck! Aemond bit into his bottom lip. The wastrel was now on trailing after him.

"What a fine lass you have… mind sharing?"

He noticed.

Aemond's blood ran cold realizing. But in the next moment, with his brother's next words his cold blood began to boil.

"Share her, I will pay very generously." Aemond knew it would be in his best interest to not react. So he kept moving trying to maintain as much distance as possible from Aegon.

"Her hair… it reminds me of my littlest sister... my sweet little sister."

Aemond clenched his jaw. Trying with every fibre in his body to ignore the imbecile following him.

"She's the only one that matters. The rest could burn in the deepest pits of the seven hells and I wouldn't even bat an eye." He finished that statement with a series of loud laughter. Like he had just said something very funny. But that laughter was soon replaced with silence.

"Name your price and you shall have it."

The figure halted in his step.

Aegon grinned like a happy child about to receive his toy. He knew a smallfolk would never turn down such a tempting offer. Unbeknownst to the Prince, hidden beneath the cloak was no smallfolk.

On the other hand, Aemond instantaneously stopped in his track soon as he detected couple of white cloaks in the crowd. Unquestionably, they belong to the search party which was currently on the hunt for him.

He sharply turned, completely forgetting about the pest pestering him. Thus coming face to face with Aegon.

"Brother!" The older Prince exclaimed. "I certainly wasn't expecting you. I took you for a slaver, off to a brothel to sell off this pretty maiden—" And then his eyes went wide, as if realization suddenly hit him like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that Aemma?!"

Aemond said nothing, as there was nothing to be said. But he did take a steps closer, giving Aegon the impression that he was about to explain his reasoning to be present in this filthy street with their youngest sibling.

Aegon took double steps forward and leaned closer, deeply interested in what the dutiful Prince, the golden boy had to say for himself. What pathetic excuse the twat would give. But what he actually received was a hard kick to the bollocks.

Aegon plummeted to the ground screaming in agony while Aemond ran off toward the closest alleyway.

The commotion caught the attention of many including that of the King's-guards

who began chasing after Aemond.

An array of spectators gathered to watch the Prince of realm withering on the ground, crying hysterically.

At this point the hood peeled off of his head but Aemond found himself uncaring that the people around could now recognize him. His priority was to reach Vhagar at any cost.

He took a turn in the alleyway but saw more guards coming from the other side. Swiftly backing away before getting noticed he makes a roundabout heading to the next street but the Lord Commander Harold Westerling was already there. And the old man saw him!

"Prince Aemond, please handover the Princess."

Now that statement grabbed more attention from the onlookers. The curiosity of the smallfolks peaked as they tried to make sense of what was happening? A Prince getting chased by the white-cloaks. A Princess with him. That is definitely not an everyday spectacle in the city.

"Prince Aemond…?"

Ignoring the Lord Commander's call Aemond turned again with the intent to run but was faced with Criston Cole standing right behind him, with his sword drawn.

"My Prince, obey the Lord Commander." Was all Cole said. But there was a firmness to his voice which is usually found in the voice of a doting father.

Soon the rest of the white-cloaks surrounded him. But Aemond didn't even look at them. His eye remained locked with his mother's sworn protector, as his grip on Aemma slowly loosened and without any protest he let the Lord Commander take her from him.

He yielded, accepted his defeat… for now.

Next time he will have them all roasted like pig.

A.N: Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed.