"You're my family and I love you. But you're terrible, you're all terrible."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The morning sun began its slow ascent beyond the horizon, casting its faint light through the shattered remnants of the Red Keep's window. Its feeble rays danced upon the dishevelled figure of Aemond, whose once proud stature now slumped against the cold stone floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, as he ignored the splinters that dug into his flesh. His chambers lay in disarray, debris littering the floor, a chaotic mosaic of broken furniture and shattered glass. 

With trembling hands, he examined the remnants of his misdeed. Blood, still wet and sticky, clung to his skin like a macabre badge of dishonour, nestled into the creases of his palms and beneath his nails. His fingers trembled as they traced the contours of the unseeing eye that lay nestled within his grasp, although it was no longer that brilliant shade. Discolouration had begun to set in, its surface wrinkled and cloudy, a relic of his own making.

Aemond's heart constricted with every beat as he beheld the ruin he had wrought, the weight of his sins pressing down upon him like a leaden shroud. He knew he should wash away the evidence, but no amount of scrubbing would rid him of the stain that marked him as a pariah in the eyes of gods and men alike.

Kinslayer. 

Murderer. 

He could not bring himself to move, could not muster the strength to rise from his pitiful perch upon the floor. His limbs felt heavy as lead, his eyelids drooping with the weight of his weariness. It seemed fitting, a poetic justice of sorts. He had the blood of his nephew on his hands, he had killed him after all, and yet his hands had remained untainted of the incriminating stains. Now he was covered in the blood of the one he loved most. He laughed self-depreciatingly, knowing that before this war was finished, he would be covered with a lot more blood. Perhaps even with the blood of his family. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he had sparked the first flame and now his family was under even more threat. His mother, Helaena, the children. Even his brother, his stupid drunk fool of a brother, but a brother nonetheless. 

Aemond took a deep breath, willing himself to clear his mind, but his thoughts kept returning to the events of the previous hours. He should have been faster, more reactive. He wished he had gotten there earlier, had somehow managed to knock the knife out of his wife's hands before she carved up her own face. Instead, he had just stood there and watched like some shell-shocked fool. 

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think she'd do it, didn't think she had it in her. It was too horrific a curse to incur upon oneself, and it took a certain measure of loathing to carry it out to completion. This final act of hers made him realize just how much her brother's death had affected her, unhinged her in some way. Looking at the blood under his fingernails again, he abruptly stood. Seized with the manic urge to scrub his hands until they bled, he could not stand the idea of having her blood on him for even an instant longer. He might as well have killed her, for the version of her he used to recognize was dead. It was the same as if he had wrapped his fingers around her pretty throat and squeezed until the life left her eyes, transforming her into whatever she was now. 

She hadn't made a single sound. It was impossible and yet Aemond had seen it with his own eyes, the strange detachment, as if she was carrying out the procedure on someone else, and not her own flesh. His eye throbbed in fresh agony, the memories resurfacing with painful clarity. His own screams echoed in his ears. It had been agony. It had to have been agony for her as well. 

They were finally equals in a way they had never been before. 

That is how Alicent found him, minutes later, standing in his day-old clothes, frantically scouring his palms, the basin below him filled to the brim and devastatingly crimson. She had seen her son in moments of distress before, but never like this—his face drawn and haggard, his eyes haunted by shadows she could not hope to fathom.

For a fleeting moment, the dowager Queen found herself frozen in place, her mind struggling to process the tableau before her. She had been roused from her slumber by the distant echoes of chaos, the telltale signs of upheaval that had become all too familiar within the walls of the Red Keep. And now, as she stood on the threshold of Aemond's chamber, her gaze swept across the chaos that lay strewn about. 

Before she could take another step forward, her son was upon her, his hands dripping with blood and water as he seized her shoulders in a desperate grip, staining her pale mint sleeves with carmine streaks. Despite being at his wit's end, despite everything, her safety was of paramount importance to him. Her silken slippers would do nothing to protect her from the danger his chamber floors posed, and he would be damned if he allowed his chaos to hurt her. 

"Aemond," Alicent breathed her voice barely a whisper as she met his wide-eyed gaze. "Aemond? What's wrong?" 

She looked like she had rushed out of bed and thrown on her robe haphazardly without a care for her appearance. Aemond thought it was quite unusual for his mother, given that she always did her best to look put together and meticulously tidy. 

"Nothing, Mother. Nothing is wrong. You should go back to bed, it is very early," he tried to lull her back into a state of calm. 

"What do you mean nothing is wrong? What are you doing, and did you not change for bed last night? You look out of sorts...and your chambers...what has happened, " her eyes fell on his hands and they narrowed, flickering upwards to trace his face. 

"Mother...."

"Is that blood? I smell blood."

"Mother wait...I-" Aemond's loss of words did nothing to ease his mother's nerves. 

"It's blood, isn't it? It's on your hands. Is that what you are trying so desperately to wash away? It's on your face too," she pointed at his forehead in horror and Aemond cursed himself. He must have smeared it accidentally. 

"It is nothing. I just..."

"How can you say it is nothing? Have you not done enough? What other calamity have you brought upon our heads?"

She was rambling now, angry and tearful, not giving him a chance to explain.

"I heard a commotion. I couldn't sleep. It hasn't been easy these past few days and I had to see if you were alright! Tell me, son, are you alright?"

"I am perfectly fine, Mother. You do not have to worry about me."

"How can I not worry?" Alicent scoffed. "All you do is make me worry. All you do...you...and now I come to find you and see you scrubbing blood from your hands. Is it your own or someone else's? I do not know which I fear more."

"It is not mine," the one-eyed prince muttered softly. "I am not hurt. You have nothing to worry about. I'm right here."

Alicent was silent for a few moments, scrutinizing him in a way that made him want to squirm. She had a way of knowing when he was lying, even when he was just a boy. She'd eye him down like this, as if she could pull the secrets from his heart before he knew of them himself. 

"You killed her didn't you?"

Aemond recoiled, his hands dropping from her shoulders instantly. He took a step back in horror.

"Who?" 

"You know who, son."

"What-how?"

It was Alicent that gripped his shoulders now, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. 

"I asked you if you killed her Aemond! Your wife is missing and you're here covered in blood you say is not yours!" her voice dropped so that he had to strain himself just to hear her, and it was particularly hard to do so with the blood thundering through his ears. 

"You...how could you say that? Do you...do you truly think me capable of something like that?" 

His voice was stone against stone, hard and brittle, just inches away from shattering, and he did everything in his power not to let his mother hear the slight warble behind his words. 

She heard it nonetheless, and her eyes softened. She was his mother after all, and she always knew. 

"I did not think any of my children capable of bloodshed," she paused in thought —but if any of them were, it would have been you— "but after Lucerys, I... I am not sure about many things."

"I did not mean to kill him," her son said quietly. 

"But you did...you have cost Rhaenyra not one, but two children. She will have your head for this. Daemon will have your head for this. Rhaenys and Corlys will have your head for this. That girl was..."

"I never said I-"

"All I ever wanted was to keep my children safe," Alicent snapped. "And yet they insist on creating new dangers for themselves. Why are you hell-bent on getting yourself killed with your foolish impulsive behaviour?"

Aemond looked away, feeling stung. Standing here now, listening to her berate him felt just like standing before her when he was a child, listening to her berate him for foolishly endangering his life by trying to tame dragons. 

The stupidity of a child with the hands of a man, but no, that wasn't quite right. 

The crimes of a monster under the guise of a man. 

Even his mother thought he was a murderer now. He had always done his best to please her, to be the calming obedient child so that she would not be caused worry by him at least. The gods knew Aegon gave her plenty to worry about already, and his father was a demon of pointless dreams and a breaker of trust. There was so little joy in his mother's life, so he had always tried to fill the void, although perhaps there was only so much he could do, when he came from the unhappiness she did. 

She thought him a monster; capable of monstrous things. His anguish must have shown on his face because Alicent finally stopped her tirade. Aemond could see the gears turning in his mother's head and he was afraid of the new suppositions taking root there. When she took a deep shuddering breath, he held his. Her initial shock seemed to seep away, and in its place, she slipped on a mask, returning to the calm and collected queen that she always was. 

She placed a hand on his cheek and he leaned into her touch.  

"Yes, well things happen my son. Now did you kill her? You must tell me immediately so we can take care of it before too many people find out. We must delay the news reaching Rhaenyra at all costs. Is there a body we need to dispose of?"

We. 

She said we, and Aemond wondered if she'd really go through with it if he had killed Daenys. It almost scared him how well she took charge, talking about damage control with such practiced ease.

"Your duty is to your family Aemond. They are your priority. They are who you must protect. What is done cannot be undone. We must look to the future and ensure the protection of Aegon's crown," she continued. 

Aegon. Always Aegon, and his crown. 

"MOTHER!" Aemond finally exploded. "I did not kill her. I swear it on the Seven!" 

Alicent froze. She blinked at him, slowly digesting the information before her face crumpled in relief. She almost collapsed to the floor and Aemond had to support her weight as she regained her balance. 

"Where is she then? And whose blood is on your hands? Did you kill someone else?" his mother's questions were endless. 

He told her what he could, in brief muted sentences, skimming past the more gory details, and omitting others entirely. He did not say that Daenys now sported a wound to match his own. 

"So...so she's gone then? Where did she go?"

"To Dragonstone I suppose. Where else?"

Aemond lowered his gaze, realizing how disappointed his mother and grandsire would be upon finding out that he had let her go. After all their efforts to make her stay. Otto most of all, would be positively furious and he'd take it out on Alicent. 

"Mother, I am sorry."

"For what my love?"

"For everything."

How did a boy apologize to his mother for being born? 

"But most of all, for causing you to worry. And...for letting her go."

"Oh, my dearest boy, I cannot fault you for that. That girl was going to leave one way or another. I suppose it is better that she returned on her own and not in a casket. It was Father's idea to keep her here in the first place. I wished for peace, I have always wished for peace you know," Alicent brought him closer and held him tight.

Aemond felt like a little boy again, although this time it was a fonder memory, one of the few he held. A memory of his mother holding him like this, of the sleepless nights she spent tending to him after the loss of his eye, even when she could have passed him off to the maesters and servants. She loved him. She knew all of him and she loved him despite it all. 

"Aemond."

"Yes, mother?"

"I need you to make me a promise."

"Anything."

"I want you to come back to me. No matter where you go...or what you do...I need you to return to me. My priority is your life, and in order to come back to me, you may have to do things you do not wish to. You may have to hurt people that you cannot fathom hurting, but you must promise me that you will. Promise that you will always come back to me no matter what you have to do for it."

"I-"

"You have to promise me this. That is all I ask. Nothing more, nothing less. Always return. it will never matter to me what you have done to do so."

It was as if she had read his mind once again, digging out his worst fears, shining a light onto them, and saying that she didn't care. It didn't matter to her, what he was, or who he'd become. He would and always be her son. 

Aemond clutched his mother tighter. No one could love him like she could, in her own strange way that he sometimes found hard to understand. And in return, he'd lay down his life for her. He'd die for his mother, but he supposed she'd rather he kill for her, and so he would. 

"I will pray to the gods for you, dearest."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The air hung heavy with the weight of centuries past as Alicent slipped into the chambers of the late King Viserys. It was a desolate place, devoid of life and warmth —not that it had ever contained those things anyway— and pale sheets draped over the furniture like shrouds, casting long shadows that danced across the barren floor.

Aegon's refusal to inhabit his father's chambers had left the room abandoned and forgotten, a ghost town within the heart of the Red Keep. The absence of knights to guard the entrance lent an eerie stillness to the air, broken only by the soft whisper of Alicent's footsteps as she moved further into the room.

Her eyes swept over the tapestries that adorned the walls, their colours dull but she knew them by heart, the placement of every thread, every stitch. She had after all spent many a night staring holes into them, wishing to be anywhere but here. 

In the center of the chamber stood Viserys's model of old Valyria, its intricate spires and towers frozen forever in a state of incompleteness. And then, there was the bed—the accursed bed where she had spent countless nights wishing she could cease to exist, longing for a reprieve that would never come. Its ornate carvings seemed to mock her, each twist and turn a reminder of the shackles that bound her to a fate she had never asked for.

Alicent's chest tightened with each passing moment, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she fought to contain the rage and despair that threatened to consume her. She wanted to scream, to scream until her throat bled, but in all her years of servitude and sacrifice, she had never given her grief a voice, and she certainly wasn't going to start now. 

Still, it wasn't fair. 

As her fingers closed around the first miniature stone structure, she could feel the weight of resentment and grief pressing down upon her. The cool surface of the model was rough against her skin, its edges sharp with the memory of a thousand silent screams. With a surge of determination, she wrenched the structure away from the model, a fierce satisfaction blooming within her chest.

The impact as she hurled the stone against the wall reverberated through the empty chamber, the sound echoing but unheard in this corner of the castle no one wanted to visit anymore. Alicent watched with a mixture of triumph and relief as the shards scattered across the floor, a testament to the destruction she had wrought.

But it was not enough—not nearly enough.

With renewed fervour, she set to work dismantling the model piece by piece, tearing down the city of old Valyria with relentless fury. Each stone she pried loose was a blow against the legacy of her late husband, a reckoning for the pain and suffering he had inflicted upon her and their children.

With each structure that burst into dust beneath her touch, she felt a surge of vindication coursing through her veins. It was Viserys's fault, she knew it with a certainty that bordered on madness. He had been the architect of their misery, the puppet master pulling the strings of their lives with callous disregard.

Her children bore the scars of his indifference, and he was the worst part of them —the fact that they came from him. He made them so difficult to love, but she loved them all the same because they came from her too. 

And now they were going to be taken away from her, and everything would have been for nothing. All her years of silence would be for nothing. Rhaenyra was going to kill them all, and it was her own son who had hastened the inevitable. 

Somewhere in the corner of his chambers, the ghost of Viserys laughed at her misery, laughed at how everything she had spent years building was coming undone through the acts of her son, just as she tore down his life's work. 

Later Alicent would light a candle in The Grand Sept, and say a prayer for forgiveness. She would ask the Seven to protect her children, to forgive her sons for their misdeeds, to forgive her for her outbursts, and then she'd spare a single thought for her own mother, gone long before Alicent knew what a burden it was to be one herself. 

It was said that no child could save their mother, but it was rarely remembered that no mother could save her child either. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Old habits died hard, and whenever things got particularly difficult, Aemond found himself returning to his sister's chambers. It was their own particular tradition, seeking shelter in each other, Aemond from his thoughts, and Helaena from her dreams. 

She was awake early this morning, gazing out the window in contemplation. She registered his presence before he even arrived at her door, calling him in with her back turned toward him, and for a moment neither of them spoke, the only other noise being the sound of their synchronized breathing and the gentle breeze coming in from the open window.

"So she's gone then?"

Aemond was startled, wondering how she could possibly know, but he nodded. 

"I saw her go, brother...but she left something behind."

Not knowing what else to say, the one-eyed prince apologized. 

Helaena's words were soft, almost a whisper, "I am not the one you should be apologizing to, at least not yet."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I...I killed Lucerys Velaryon," Aemond confessed in shame, and his sister's lips twisted in a grimace. 

"I think we are all aware of that already."

"No, I actually killed him. I think I meant to kill him."

Helaena was quiet for a long time.

"Please say something..." Aemond almost pleaded

"Did you want to kill him?"

"No! Yes. I don't know. When I saw him that day in Storm's End, I was just so angry. When I took Vhagar after him, all I knew was that I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to hurt as much as I hurt. I wanted him to be in pain, I wanted him to suffer."

"So it was both a game and also not?"

"Perhaps."

"Only you can say for sure. Your dragon can sense your intentions, brother."

"I know," Aemodn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was a fool and now I'm a coward. I blame Vhgar for something that was my fault. A dragon is a weapon. I was her wielder, her rider. She felt my rage and behaved accordingly, and it resulted in death. 

Aemond's swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. The answer to his next question was what he dreaded the most.

"Do you think I'm a monster, Hel?"

His nickname for her made Helaena's heart ache. He said it with the same earnestness that was so reminiscent of the times when they were children. Infact this entire situation was painfully nostalgic, although a younger Aemond drunk on milk of the poppy was much different than this older version of him who was drunk on regret.

They both looked at her in the same way though, pleading for her understanding, pleading for her forgiveness.

Do you think I'm a monster? Do you think I look like one? Do you think I behave like one?

He couldn't help it. He was her little brother.

She couldn't help it either. She was his sister.

This was their tragedy.

She knew him once. She liked to think she knew him still.

Helaena Targaryen took her brother's face in her hands and kissed his forehead. 

"It does not matter what I think. Your sin is not mine to forgive."

"She will never forgive me, will she? How could she? How could anyone."

"You are not a monster. Monsters are not capable of self-condemnation."

"I have done a monstrous thing, Hel! Does that not make me a monster?"

"Men do monstrous things," Helaena sighed. "It is what separates us from the saints. What separates you from a true monster is that you know it was a monstrous thing to do and you feel remorse. Your conscience still lives."

Aemond let out a bitter laugh, "You may be the only person who thinks that way. I suspect even Mother is weary of me now. And Daenys...well it would be a miracle she can restrain herself from gutting me open the next time she sees me."

"My dreams do not tell me how all this ends, brother."

"You do not need any dreams to know how this one ends. A war only ends in bloodshed."

"And grief," Helaena added. "Always grief."

"Right."

Helaena turned to look at him with sorrowful eyes, "I grieve for her. For our dear sister, for all she has lost and has yet to lose."

I grieve for myself too, and all that I will. 

"I don't think I've told anyone this before," Aemond admitted. "I don't think I have even allowed myself to think of it. It felt easier to pretend that I did not wish for it, but I think... a part of me meant to kill him and now that I feel awful for it, I'm not sure what I am."

"Do you feel awful because your actions killed him or because Daenys wants nothing to do with you anymore?"

"Is there a difference?"

His sister nodded sagely, "That makes all the difference."

"I...I am not sure."

"Then perhaps you need to think on it more, brother."

"I know."

"The right thing is never easy. Your guilt is your penance. You must live with it for the rest of your days."

"Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"

Will Mother? Will you?

"Mother has already forgiven you," Helaena said simply, as if reading his mind. 

"And Daenys?"

"You cannot completely unlove someone, no matter how hard you try, no matter how awful they are. And you are far from awful, brother."

"Of course, you would say that. You're my sister."

"I only mean to say that your debt will find a way to pay itself. Debts usually do."

She frowned then, as if lost in thought and Aemond found himself wondering what it was that held her captive in her own mind. He dare not ask. His sister had a habit of spouting strange things, things he could make no sense of. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A/N: lol I meant to put this out yesterday but then I got distracted binge-watching law & order but we're finally here. Once again I just wanna thank you all for the lovely words of encouragement and support, they literally make my day every time I read them. 

Also out of curiosity lol, QOTD: who do you think is the architect/demolitionist?

As usual, don't be a ghost reader, comments really motivate me to continue writing so share your thoughts plz and thank u
⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡