Paranoia
For days now, Aegon ran like a fool through these woods in search of the hooded man. Repeated encounters only heightened his sense of paranoia. The whispers in the night were enough to make any man go mad.
‘Betrayal is inevitable. Your kingdom will taste it, like blood in your mouth.’
The voice would forever echo in his ears. More than once he and his allies had suffered the pain of lies and betrayal. They were both a knife in his spine, pinching the nerves which ran to his very core. On the next ridge he stopped. Beads of sweat lined his brow and a stray tendril of white hair teased his periphery.
The ghost parted the leaves on every oak when it dashed in another direction. Aegon dug the toes of his boots into the ground and bolted. The nightmares which used to plague him seemed only a blur as he rushed past the skeletal anomalies, rotting abominations, and gargantuan spiders. There was only one target tonight and it would be the reprieve he desired as much as needed.
The last hill was where he stopped in his tracks. It was a Cliffside with the waters of the ocean crashing onto the rocks below. The hooded ghost crashed into the water and disappeared below. There was no hesitation. No regard for his own safety. Only action. He dove feet first into the water with his sword drawn, ready to strike should the need arise. The ocean came up around him, swallowing the man whole like an abysmal beast left wanting for food.
The speed and intensity of his fall was intense. His sword arm struck a stone beneath the surface, causing him to drop his only weapon.
‘Fool,’ he thought, ‘now you are defenseless because your anger fueled haste.’
Before Aegon could finish chastising himself, his feet landed on solid ground. He landed, kneeling and dripping wet. Looking up he could see the tunnel through which he fell and before him was an atrium of glowing stone as well as crested pieces of emerald. The light was dim, however, and left his vision playing tricks. Shadows lurked at every corner. He remained kneeling and searching the room with a calculated stare.
‘Your rage makes you foolish. Control it or it will control you.’
Aegon leaped to his feet and turned. There was no one there.
‘Heed my words, King, or you will fall.’
He turned again. Nothing.
“Show yourself! Stop playing games you bastard!” The laugh that echoed was almost as infuriating as the fact that he could not catch him. The whisper that followed pressed against his chest like a solid hand. It forced him one step backward.
‘To catch me would be to admit your greatest fears, Aegon. Heed my words and rule…’
It was gone. There was nothing there now and he could feel it. A loud clang reverberated off the walls of the small atrium as his sword fell to the ground from where it was dropped. The point stuck in the ground almost a hand’s length. There stood the King of New Valyria, feeling no more than a petty knave in his own realm.
‘I’m chasing ghosts….what is happening to me?’
‘I will not stop. I WILL run you down until I see you burn.’
Blood of the dragon. That’s what his father would always say. Sometimes it felt more like an excuse for rampant action than a reason for the explosive nature they had. As Aegon grew older he began to understand more fully the inherent nature of the Targaryens.
For days now, Aegon ran like a fool through these woods in search of the hooded man. Repeated encounters only heightened his sense of paranoia. The whispers in the night were enough to make any man go mad.
‘Betrayal is inevitable. Your kingdom will taste it, like blood in your mouth.’
The voice would forever echo in his ears. More than once he and his allies had suffered the pain of lies and betrayal. They were both a knife in his spine, pinching the nerves which ran to his very core. On the next ridge he stopped. Beads of sweat lined his brow and a stray tendril of white hair teased his periphery.
The ghost parted the leaves on every oak when it dashed in another direction. Aegon dug the toes of his boots into the ground and bolted. The nightmares which used to plague him seemed only a blur as he rushed past the skeletal anomalies, rotting abominations, and gargantuan spiders. There was only one target tonight and it would be the reprieve he desired as much as needed.
The last hill was where he stopped in his tracks. It was a Cliffside with the waters of the ocean crashing onto the rocks below. The hooded ghost crashed into the water and disappeared below. There was no hesitation. No regard for his own safety. Only action. He dove feet first into the water with his sword drawn, ready to strike should the need arise. The ocean came up around him, swallowing the man whole like an abysmal beast left wanting for food.
The speed and intensity of his fall was intense. His sword arm struck a stone beneath the surface, causing him to drop his only weapon.
‘Fool,’ he thought, ‘now you are defenseless because your anger fueled haste.’
Before Aegon could finish chastising himself, his feet landed on solid ground. He landed, kneeling and dripping wet. Looking up he could see the tunnel through which he fell and before him was an atrium of glowing stone as well as crested pieces of emerald. The light was dim, however, and left his vision playing tricks. Shadows lurked at every corner. He remained kneeling and searching the room with a calculated stare.
‘Your rage makes you foolish. Control it or it will control you.’
Aegon leaped to his feet and turned. There was no one there.
‘Heed my words, King, or you will fall.’
He turned again. Nothing.
“Show yourself! Stop playing games you bastard!” The laugh that echoed was almost as infuriating as the fact that he could not catch him. The whisper that followed pressed against his chest like a solid hand. It forced him one step backward.
‘To catch me would be to admit your greatest fears, Aegon. Heed my words and rule…’
It was gone. There was nothing there now and he could feel it. A loud clang reverberated off the walls of the small atrium as his sword fell to the ground from where it was dropped. The point stuck in the ground almost a hand’s length. There stood the King of New Valyria, feeling no more than a petty knave in his own realm.
‘I’m chasing ghosts….what is happening to me?’
Last edited: