7: King of Fools

                                    

                                          
Harlys woke in a panic, a hand pressed over her mouth to keep her from screaming. 
She thrashed wildly, but her attacker only pressed harder, catching her wrist with his free hand as she swung up to fight back. She caught a glimpse, then, of long, moon-white hair and froze. His skin burned against hers, her fear a tangible thing in the air. Would this be it? Would this be how she met her end? Of all the dumb and daring things she had done in her life, never had she imagined she would die in her bed at the hand of the one-eyed prince.
Slowly, Aemond removed his touch from her and she sat upright in bed, blankets pooling around her waist. 
"What is wrong with you?" She hissed quietly, pressing a hand to her rapidly beating heart. Aemond simply stood to his full height, his remaining eye focused solely on her face.
"You would have screamed." 
"You think?" Practically spitting the words, she glared heavily up at him. It was way past nightfall, and if he was worried about her screaming—and alerting the guards outside her door—then he must have snuck into her chambers via the tunnels in the walls. Clearly, he was bringing news. And most certainly not the kind she hoped to hear. "Get on with it then, Aemond."
"Otto's guards returned Aegon to him." Annoyance flashed in his eyes, but whether it was directed at himself or his grandsire, he could not tell. Shock and fear briefly arced through Harlys and she took a breath to compose herself. She took another, and adjusted her plans. "There was a fight, but it was only a distraction in order to get Aegon back to the Red Keep undetected."
Aemond shifted, his face momentarily illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. But that was all she needed. Twisting so that she was on her knees at the edge of the bed, she held his chin in one hand, turning his head slightly so as to be able to inspect the bruise blooming along his jaw. She was certain that his knuckles would be cracked and bloody too, if she looked. 
So there had been a fight. 
"Oh, how you must loathe being bested." A grin twisted her lips as she spoke, letting go of Aemond and sitting back on her legs. She had no pity for him; it was his family's mess that got them exactly where they were. 
"You seem to be incredibly smug for someone whose entire plan rested on my return with Aegon." 
"Plans change," She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug she knew Aemond saw right through. But he didn't call her out on it, and instead he studied her face as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. Or like he was seeing her for the last time, and did not wish to forget her. Clearing her throat and shaking the worrying thought from her mind, she climbed off the bed and strode towards the window. "What happens now?"
Aemond appeared behind her shoulder, studying the same inky black outside her window. She refused to let his presence intimidate her, so no matter how acutely aware she was of him standing behind her, she fought the urge to move away. 
"I imagine my grandsire will go forward with my brother's coronation. Whether my mother stays true to the terms discussed with you remains to be seen, but you can be quite convincing when you wish to be." His words were measured, calculated. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold permeating her skin ran down her spine and she wrapped her arms around herself. 
Faint heat emanated from the prince at her back, studying the world over her shoulder, but she pushed the thought that acknowledged it deep, deep down. 
"Aegon may claim the throne, but it is Otto who will truly sit upon it." She whispered the truth. Aemond let out a hum in response. Was it his agreement? Disagreement? Surely he was not enough of a fool to think his brother capable of anything more than being a figurehead, but part of her cringed at the thought of learning where his true loyalties lay.