( Even as she comes, with pleasure wracking through her body and fogging her mind, Alicent's desire to bring her son into the depths of bliss with her remains. A fervor-filled hunger fuels her and the desire to be the cause of his slipping into rapturous delight. Each movement makes her more sensitive, setting off a chain reaction that feels like it will never end, but it doesn't stop her β she needs him to come with her.
With that final, aching thrust of his hips and the roll of hers, she feels the forceful throbs as seed spills from him. Hot and sticky against their bellies. Again, it feels wasteful. Making the desire to finally have him inside her all the more apparent, leaving her aching once more despite having just come.
As their grip on one another lessens and they bask in the afterglow, Alicent rests against him. Not worried about the mess between them. Her thighs tremble as she lowers herself, shifting to straddle one of his as she lays against him fully, head nestling against the crook of his neck. Breathing out deeply, she nuzzles her nose against the underside of his jaw, her lips brushing against his lean neck before kissing it once, then twice.
Content and at peace, enjoying the blissfulness that washes over her, Alicent has no desire to leave the sanctuary of his arms. She wonders how long they can get away with this. Could they afford the risk of getting caught in one another's arms if he spends the night? Selfishly, she doesn't want him to leave, she wants to stay like this forever, but she knows ( eventually ) he will have to dress and make his way back to his chambers while navigating the dark innards of the Holdfast. )
[ She shifts and he accommodates. Caring little for the squelch of stickiness trapped between them. Every movement feels like weights are tied to his wrists. Chin tipping back to allow her to tuck herself there. The sweat on his neck beginning to cool. Rarely ever has he felt so...at peace. Though never so drunken.
It is half expected that she might shuffle him off again. Like she had the day before. The moment doesn't come, but these moments feel long and timeless. The night as a whole feels like a dream, wandering the inner maze of the Holdfast to find her standing there with her tea. Simmering in want that even now and sated, still distantly feels an empty endless pool. How long had it been there? How long had he stood blinded to it?
Aemond's fingers move and trace along her bare, warm skin. Idling. Just to check that she is really there. Breathing and content and tucked into his arms. He would think of the times she would have held him like this, back in an earlier age. A poor, broken child. Riddled with loneliness and nightmares. Tucked safely away in his mother's arms under dying firelight. Feeling like nothing else ever existed beyond the walls of this room. Not the sick and dying king they betray down the hall. Not the threat of an unworthy heir waiting with bated breath across the brackish bay. Not even the gods of the Seven themselves could penetrate these walls with threat of wroth. ]
I want to take you flying with me. [ He speaks after what feels like the longest of silences. The soft cadence of his voice ever so quiet. Despite knowing she might never agree to it, might never learn to enjoy it the way a dragon rider does. But tonight for the first time, he saw what she was like when she allowed herself to be free. And never more has he ever felt so free flying on the back of a dragon. Something in like, in this moment, would think to share with her too. ]
( Somehow, lingering in the afterglow with his idle touch and arms securely wrapped around her feels more intimate than everything they've done. Even after she opened herself to him, allowing him to see parts of her that no one else has, and delved into depravity, a vulnerability dwells deep within her β stirring up insecurities. They make her want to flee as she did the day before or send him away, but she pushes them down and stamps them out, not wanting to punish him for the demons that linger within her.
It is strange having their positions switched. Many a night, she lay with him wrapped in his arms, soothing his worries, insecurities, and loneliness while chasing away his nightmares the best she could. Part of her wonders if she could have done more, been a better mother, and protected him, but she knows these are thoughts that all mothers have and perhaps something she worries about more with the switch in dynamic and the change in their relationship to more than simply mother and son.
Relaxed and absorbing his warmth, Alicent begins to feel herself drifting. Her breathing begins evening out as the weight of her body presses into him more, no longer aware of the conscious effort she makes to keep from leaning into him too much.
After that long silence, where she struggles, fighting between consciousness and sleep, she startles when his voice breaks through the silence. A soft mmm? slipping through her nose as she shifts onto her elbow to look down at him, a halo of messy auburn curls framing her face and that half-glazed look of fighting off sleep as she climbs towards wakefulness. )
Flying? ( Her voice husky with sleep but still soft and etched with fondness as she reaches out, with her other hand, softly caressing his cheek with her fingers. Normally she would be dismissive of such a statement, brushing it off, but none of that is there, even as she says, ) Have you gone mad?
As I have never ridden a dragon nor flown, I don't know the first thing about it, and I doubt your dragon will accept me. ( Though he has her blood within her, she doesn't possess the blood of Old Valyria that puts Targaryens closer to Gods and gives them the ability to control dragons. )
[ Has he gone mad? Possibly. He's lying in bed with his mother. Head clouded with a bliss not previously known. Prone to stupid ideas, stupid feelings, wrapped in a deep soft warmth that feels safe and suffocating. A fouler mouth might accuse him of being 'cunt-struck'. Mayhap he is. But there are more audacious things committed between the two of them offending the new gods than what might offend the old gods of ancient Valyria that would see a non-Valyrian mount a dragon.
There is a salacious curl of his lips that meets the look she gives him. Chin tipping down and to the side to look up at her a little more clearly, leaned perfectly into the idling touch of her fingertips on his cheek.]
You'll be with me. Vhagar will accept you as I do. [ A soft assurance, but knowingly not much a convincing one. She could never understand how deep the bond between dragon and rider goes. It would be even more difficult to explain it.
Out of all the dragons that reside in the Dragonpit, the she-dragon is the most daunting. Old, cranky, but formidable once she is roused. One too large to lower herself to even be mounted easily. Could she be so bold to try climbing her ropes or would they need to commission a mounting block for her to ascend to the saddle? ]
All you will need to do is hold on. I would not let any harm come to you.
[ He may be bold, but he is not reckless. To ensure the queen of the realm does not fall to her death over the Blackwater Bay. It is not without it's danger, surely. Not for the simple or frail constitution. But she has shown boldness. He would not have brought it up if he did not think she capable. ]
Will she? ( Accompanying the slight knit of her brows, an apprehensive hesitance lingers in her voice. A tightness in her throat betrays the building worry in her mind, yet the rest of her body remains relaxed. Even showing a bit of interest in how she positions herself with her palm cupping her cheek as she lazily leans into it, auburn curls pooling around her as she shifts her body to face him better. )
What makes you so positive?
( Of all her children, she puts the most trust in him, so as he tries to reassure her, saying that all she must do is hold onto him and no harm will come to her, it helps soothe some of the worries.
Idly, as her thoughts drift, her fingers dance across his skinβtheir tips ghost over the curve of his grin before sliding down the slope of his chin.
There is much to be said about her actions, by how she hasn't dismissed the idea or scolded him for bringing such a thing up. Perhaps it is because of the boldness he has instilled within her and that invincibility she might have felt in her youth if she strove to achieve her own desires and ambitions instead of yielding to her father's lust for power.
If she is to consider this madness, she will need to make some preparations. First of all, the fact that she doesn't own the proper attire to ride a dragon ( remembering the leathers her once-friend wore and the same that her children donned when they rode ). Everything she owns is finery made for a queen β dresses of silks, satin, damask, and nothing that will protect her from the elements once they are on Vhagar's back, soaring through the skies.
Perhaps she could borrow one of Helaena's riding outfits or dig through Princess Rhaenyra's abandoned apartments in hopes that she left something behind for her to return to after abandoning the Red Keep and moving her family to Dragon Stone.
Her thoughts abruptly stop, realizing that she's actually entertaining the idea. His madness has corrupted her as well, bringing forth a small laugh as she shakes her head. )
I trust you, Aemond, but I make no promises. But, at the very least, I will visit and watch on the morrow or whenever you would have me.
[ She never cared this much before, it's not gone unnoticed. As a child, she was a mother who kept one ear shut to a child's prattling. Attempting to be involved in their lives, but mayhap more out of duty than any true interest. Aemond would have always appreciated the attempt, but likewise found disappointment when her attention would turn awayβscorned by the happenings with the King, the small council, the princess heir. He'd not faulted her then, but he had felt her absence. She had been the only one who even tried to listen at all.
The markers on the map have shifted, and absently he wonders why. A lot has changed in such a short time. Now his fingers map the silken skin of her back. He has grown to know her now more intimately than any other man. More so than his own father. They have exchanged devotions and aches that have long plagued them. There is no duty between them that requires her take further part in him. No ransom needed in exchange for her pleasure.
Even so, he still would like to take her into the sky. ]
I'll take you to meet her. May she grow familiar with you. Let you put your hand upon her breast so that you might even feel just one breath of her might. [ The velvety softness in his voice might suggest he would seduce her into the idea. Though it already seems to be taking hold in her mind.
But to ensure she take it further than simply visiting the Dragonpit. So that she cannot just excuse herself and wait in her carriage for him to drop down from the sky. If she truly wanted to entertain it, Vhagar would need to get to know her presence. Soothe her fear. It would be essential. ]
The bond between a dragon and its rider is deeper than anything I've ever known. She feels what I feel, she will trust as I trust. As I would never harm you, the great wyrm would too know not to as well.
( As much as she would like to deny it, Alicent wasn't the most attentive mother regarding her children's interests. She had little desire when it came to Aemond's obsession with dragons and getting his own ( tried as she might to understand, she never could and realized she never would, though she did feel for him, there was a terrible ache in her heart when his egg did not hatch and his brother and nephews ridiculed him ).
Then there was Helaena, with her insects and cryptic ramblings ( rambling that she should have listened to or paid attention to because they always came true ). Her eldest, Aegon, was a different story; though he too had an interest in dragons, little else inspired him β he was a lazy glutton with a taste for depravity and promiscuity that she would also never understand, which might make her a hypocrite as she lays with Aemond.
Despite it all, she did try, but it wasn't enough, leaving an absence in her children's lives where she should have been. If she had been present or more attentive in their lives, Aegon would have turned out differently, and she would not have crossed that threshold no mother and son should.
It is too late now, as they have given in to one another. Allowed the flames of desires to lick at their aches and loneliness, making them consumed and starved for one another. Beyond their intimacies and the secrets they now share, she knows that she owes him nothing further, but it doesn't stop the desire to share more with him than just lustful moments they find themselves.
Perhaps it is selfish, and he may not feel the same way, but when she said she wants all of him, she meant every word β she wants to share in everything. His interests, happiness, sadness, pleasures, and everything else he would share with her. And because of that, she could be easily seduced into the idea of flying with him atop Vhagar's back as she clings to him instead of returning to her carriage upon finally meeting his dragon. )
On the morrow then, if it isn't too soon. We can share a carriage to the Dragonpit or arrive there separately.
( This leaves little time for her to find something appropriate to wear there, but she will find time to make it happen. She also wonders if it is too soon. Would he need to make preparations or prepare the she-dragon for her arrival? Would he whisper that his mother ( or would he introduce her as his lover or both ) is finally coming to meet her?
The image in her mind is enough to pull a soft laugh from her, but it dies out as she listens to him explain their bond, how intimate it is, and how Vhagar would never harm her as he never would. With how lonely he was as a child β isolated and excluded from those around him, she now understands why he desperately wanted a dragon. He wanted a friend. A companion that would be there.
The realization tugs at her heart, making her remorseful that she wasn't more present. )
It is a bond I will never understand or experience, but meeting her and possibly riding with her will be the closest I will ever get.
[ For the longest time, Aemond's resilience has been a shield. The lonely bitterness held as a child hardened and weaponized into a part of him. Isolating himself by choice rather than force. She would be the only one to ever really know how much it bothered him. For years getting snuffed out by his own brother, by those bastard nephews everyone tried so desperately to make milk and sword brothers. Wanting their acceptance as much as he hated wanting to, because it was someone. All it ever did was drive him back into her arms.
Once he had found a dragon, he had made a friend with a deep inseparable bond that would not break until either one was dead, he needed her less and less. But what is it to say about him now that still his only friend is that old, grouchy ancient war beast?
The shift is palpable as he watches her make that link β a link he hadn't realized she might make. The spoils of their arrangement has loosened his tongue. A moment that shifts to where she doesn't look at him as he is now, but the small child that would bury himself in her embrace. Weak and vulnerable, things he swore himself to never be again.
It suddenly feels like walls crumbling in on him β the way she looks at him. Deeper plunged into him than any intimacy they've exchanged so far.
Unlike her, he does not sit well with his demons.
Aemond's gaze drops, head shifting among the sheets. A hum affirms the plan in Aemond's throat, notably cool. Slightly distracted. Among his petition to his grandsire, they will make the time to meet Vhagar. Tides shifting as the night carries, he sees the opening that would avail his squirming. His hand coming to fall at her side to suggest he is about to take his leave. Fingers still light, not pressing.]
I should go. [Before Talya might check in on her, before they both fall asleep and the morning comes. Part of him still doesn't want to leave, would desire to sleep in her arms. Equally part of him now needs air, feeling sticky and cooled.]
( The shift in atmosphere is hard to ignore, the weight settling and the change between them noticeable with his desire to leave β feeling suffocated, desperate for fresh air β and her reluctance to let him go despite the remorse prickling at her heart as his hand rests against her side, a silent indication of his wish to depart before the words leave his lips.
It is voracious to want him longer, knowing that the chances of their discovery increase as they approach dawn.
There is reluctant defiance as she lingers against him instead of moving away to allow him to leave. She leans into him again, allowing the weight of her body to press into him β forehead coming to rest against his as she basks in the moment. Putting to memory how it feels to be with him, so she can recall it when her bed is empty, and she longs for his presence. )
Of course, ( she finally says, the reluctance thick on her tongue as she takes another kiss before rolling away to sit at the edge of the bed. Outstretching her fingers, she grabs ahold of her robes and pulls them around her, the coolness of the fabric a drastic different than the warmth of him she felt moments before. ) Though I wish you could stay.
( Would stay, is what she wants to stay, but she understands that she cannot keep him here forever.
She glances at him from over her shoulder, a slight knit to her brow. That ache is still present in her chest, caused by the connection she made ( the one he wishes she would have remained oblivious to if it weren't for the slip of his tongue, but it is a connection she would have made eventually or maybe even something she always knew but chose to ignore and bury beneath the weight of her own miserable loneliness. It wasn't the right thing to do, leaving her children feeling a void where she should have been, but it was what she needed to do to endure and survive. ) and the desire to have him stay.
It isn't that she doesn't see him as he is now and sees him as the boy who once buried himself in her embrace β it's that she notices that she wasn't alone in her misery. While there was often a detached void where she should have been, she hopes that being present now will make up for some of it. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wants this arrangement between them more than anything else and has the ambition to make it last. )
Shall I see you come tomorrow, or would another day be better to visit the Dragonpit?
[ What feels like a very long moment finally ends. Aemond's body rocks gently under the movement as she pulls away, her absence leaving the coolness of the room to wash over him again. Chilling to the skin. Regretting having said anything, several times over. Regardless of what she thinks, the embarrassment consumes him.
Practically swinging upright with his tail tucked between his legs. He pinches his eyes shut a moment, sat opposite the side of the bed as she pulls her robe on. Delayed, the young prince dresses as well, stepping into his breeches and then his boots. He tastes his lips before he rises, still lingering of her. As if finally committed to what has already started. Crossing the room to gather the rest of his things before she poses her question. ]
Mayhaps later in the day. [ The prince answers as he bends upright, hands fretfully turning around his shirt to find the hem of it. ] I need to prepare to speak to grandfather in the morn.
[ It's not as though he's suddenly changed his mind. Nor has he somehow become scared of his own shadow. Just needs to clear his head, for however long it needs. A long breath is taken, sobering as he pulls his shirt back over his head. Flicking out his hair from underneath the collar as he turns to look at her. Uncertain now of what he is doing, standing in the middle of the room feeling like an idiot. Pretending somewhat that this is normal. None of it is fucking normal.
He wants to stay. He wants to craw back into her arms. Knowing she would have him stay, she would keep him there for as long as he would want. That's never changed, only that they can't do it anymore. For a long time he would have denied himself that comfort, not becoming of a man grown. The circumstances of it has changed. Twisted and mangled into this thickened feeling. ]
Shall I return tomorrow in the night? [ Aemond asks, steps wading back to her are slow and ambling. Serving to move closer towards the door tucked away behind her bedside curtains, but to her as well. How often will she call upon him? How many mornings will he need to stumble his way back through the dregs of the Holdfast before anyone the wiser? ]
( From the edge of the bed, she tries not to watch him dress, to give him some privacy, but her gaze always returns to him β lingering on his lithe frame, still thinking he looks ethereal in the candlelight. Smoothing her hands down the front of the robe, she closes it and ties the ropes around her waist before untrapping her hair from within the robe.
The answer he gives her feels like a nonanswer, lingering between yes and no. It is infuriating, especially when she needs an answer to know if she should prepare for the short notice of tomorrow or if she has time. As desperate as she wants an answer, she doesn't push it β she doesn't want to be overbearing or smothering. So, she nods in agreement.
Until today she wanted nothing to do with any of their dragons. Not to meet them or get to know them or ride them. So what's waiting a few more days?
Ultimately, her excitement and interest don't lie with meeting Vhagar or getting to know her but with partaking in his interests. To experience his true self behind whatever mask he wears when around her. She wants to be part of his life's more intimate and private details, but she also knows they are moving at an alarming rate, and he might not be prepared for all that. And because of that, she is more than willing to go at whatever pace he might pick for them. )
I would like that, ( she replies and continues to watch him. Wondering if he will approach her or head straight for the door. ) If I lean the way, I could visit you instead, or if you would prefer a full night's rest, we can come together another time.
[ There is a fire that always remains tamed with her. Held deep within him longer than she would ever know. The son she knows is ideal to her. Meticulously crafted, perfected, into a son that she need not worry about. He hasn't Aegon's demons, but still harbors a fire in his blood that sings. The blood of a dragon that sows chaos he's only ever known her to fear. The son she knows is her own, she owns parts of him that no one ever sees. But there are parts of him he would know her not to love. Mayhaps he keeps it from her so she would not ever look at him the way she has looked at his brother, that she might have spoken of his uncle. What if she showed him fear?
It is her he directs himself towards. Eyes lowered to the ground first as he closes in a few steps where he might have diverged to make a clean escape. Almost like a child who has not forgotten to mind his manners, he would not leave without bidding her a proper goodbye. Feeling foolish and yet still capable of allowing her to swallow him up back into bed if she so wished. Gods and the faces of the Seven would know he could not resist it. If it could simply consume him whole. ]
I don't need peace. [ She gives him an out once again that he does not seem to take. Despite the sting of flight nipping at his heels. He'd resist the urge any more than he would have if he were down in the guts of the Dragonpit, staring the chance of Dreamfyre swallowing him whole. ]
I would prefer to see you again. [ Aemond assures, though would sound almost modest in his courting. Fighting the strangeness that clouds it and poisons his mind. His hand lifts to reach out to her, brushing an astray curl away from her eyes. Before leaning down to press a kiss to the cheek at the corner of her mouth.]
( Though she often looks at Aegon with disappointment and even disgust in her gaze ( sometimes even hurtful and venomous words on her tongue ), it has never lessened how much she loves or cares about him. Even with all his vices and love for depravity, he is her son, and she loves the bones of him ( as with all her children ). She understands there are parts of them she will never know. Parts of Aemond that he would never dare to show her, but she hopes that he will allow her to see more of him, to understand him better, and in return, she would allow him to see more of her. )
You may not need peace, but you do need rest, ( she comments as she looks up at him. Typical of a mother to worry for her son or a woman to her lover, to ensure he is restful and well β too many late nights of passion only to wake with the morning will begin to take its toll. Even with how greedy she feels and wants nothing more than to get lost in him, she understands the need to be alone, to reflect, and to rest.
Or she thinks this is what he needs, after years of her lord husband requesting her to leave him, that he needed time alone.
His words reassure her, that worried crease in her brow dissipating as she leans into his touch as he brushes a stray curl away. The press of his lips feels like fire on her skin, the urge to pull him down with her flicking at her with the fires burning deep within her. Just allow her a few more hours to stay lost in him, basking in the comfort and warmth he provides.
As she shifts, a shaken breath escapes her before she claims his lips fully, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulls him in, keeping the kiss but allowing him to keep standing despite the desire to feel his weight on top of her body once more. )
Every night you want me, I will wait for you. ( murmurs as she breaks the kiss, lingering close, reluctant to release him.
Not wanting to keep him longer than he wishes to stay and no not smother him, she unravels her arms from around his neck. Fingers gliding through his silvery hair before coming to rest on her lap. )
[ The way she pulls him in does not gain any resistance on his behalf. He allows her to pull him into her arms. A long kiss goodnight that would threaten to pull him back in when he'd been so close and convinced to fleeing. He does need rest. Been up since the dawn, he would sleep tomorrow well past the morn if he could. But the deep need seeded by her would also see him sacrificing his sleep for just a bit more. Just to enjoy a bit longer the way her mouth draws a stillness around him, reminds him of that sort of comfort she's only able to give.
It feels backwards, what she says. In all her power to put her devotion to him and not the other way around. Giving a privilege and a power he's not used to wielding. Stood over her the way he does now, not yet lifting himself from her kiss as he hands flow through him and down to her lap. The only man who should hold that privilege is the king himself. The man who has squandered her and left her bed cold long before he was incapable of leaving his own. Now he holds that power?
Aemond's lips curl into a small, prideful smile.] I would not keep you wanting.
Goodnight, mother. [ He departs shortly, the softest hints of delight in his quiet voice. Pulling himself further is remarkably more regretful than before. Even as he pulls the drapery back, he does not linger more than necessary. The soft click of the door finally sounding his departure. The tempered torch he had left along his way still smoldering as he plucks it from the wall. Making a very quiet way through the dark underbelly back to a cold dark room to hopefully sleep off well enough until the morrow. ]
( While it is true the King should be the only one to hold that privilege and power over her, he lost it long ago. It started long ago, possibly had always been this way, but she was blinded by her devotion and loyalty to her lord husband. Long before the incident on Driftmark, when he forgot about her, called her by the name of his dead wife β making her feel a loneliness she never thought imaginable.
Because he had forgotten about her, squandered all of her, and left her bed cold ( or stopped inviting her to his as he never visited her and requested her in the middle of the night ), this privilege that no man other than her lord husband should have is hers to give freely.
No one in the Seven Kingdoms or even the known world deserves it more than Aemond.
That small, prideful smile eases whatever worries she might have had from the shift she felt in the air around them. She loves to see him smile, to know that she is the cause behind it, and she offers one of her own β warm and genuine. )
Goodnight, Aemond. ( Her words are soft as she turns to watch him leave, contending with the aching longing that already threatens to take hold within her chest. It isn't as if she will never see him again, but it doesn't stop her longing when they are separated.
Rising from her bed, Alicent strides to the table before the window to pour herself the last bit of tea. It has already gone cold, but she doesn't mind. She slides her tongue along her lips, tasting the remnants of him ( and herself ) upon them. This is madness, she thinks as she takes a long pull from her cup, empties it, then sets it on the table. And while it might be madness, she more than happily submits, allowing it to pull her down into its depths.
After unlatching the door, she cleans herself the best she can of his seed that sticks to her stomach and returns to her bed, removing her robe and pulling her nightgown on once more before crawling into bed. It doesn't take long for sleep to claim her.
She rises as the first rays of light slip through the window and the sound of Talya milling about to prepare the Queen for the day. After bathing, Alicent sits at her vanity, brushing vanilla and musk oils into her hair, and notices the red mark on her neck. Her fingers trace over it, wondering if a bug bit her in the middle of the night before remembering Aemon's lips upon her neck β the memory sends a shiver down her spine. She requests Talya to get her a modest dress with a high collar ( hopefully high enough to cover the mark ).
Talya returns with a dress as the Queen requested and begins helping her dress. It feels silly to wear such a gown in the summer, but she does what she must to hide the mark before heading down to break her fact. )
[ It is this morning that Aemond does not appear to break his fast with the rest of his family. Not to appear throughout the morning until the convening of the small council, which he had already petitioned himself to be a part of. He would appear in the chamber room long before anyone else, waiting patiently beside the window for the time to pass.
Despite his notions of desiring no peace, the morning had been pressing. For everything he had intended to do stripped for time in his own meticulously kept schedule. Would not have had accounted for all the time he'd spent lustfully chasing after his mother. Hard to regret it, though he disliked the distraction it gave once his attention had been culled to something actually important.
Skipping a morning meal proved profitable to make up. Leaving him time to arrive there early, almost as overcompensating for the fact that he was granted the ability to attend the small council. Something more often offered to his brother, who likely squandered every opportunity he'd been granted so far. The second son more determined to make the best of it.
His head turns as he hears footsteps linger closer and closer down the hall. Wondering which of the council is to arrive first, only to find that it is the Queen herself. His expression then changes, something wry and soft. Almost as he means to speak something uncouth when shortly behind him arrives the Hand himself. Aemond's expression falls and hardens as he wets his lips.]
Good morrow, mother. Grandfather. [ He greets instead, his hands tucking themselves behind his back as he departs the window to take a seat at the table. ]
( As much as it saddens her and brings the heavy weight of missing him to settle in her chest, it does not surprise her to see him absent from the table this morning. It would seem that all her children had the same idea, Helaena breaking fast in her chambers with the children, likely with Aegon, but she cannot be sure β he might still be in Flea Bottom chasing his depravity, passed out within his chambers, or as much as she hates even to think it, chasing any of the servants who happens to cast him a second glance.
The morning passes, filled with conversation with her father as they break fast together, discussing her time away from the Red Keep and King's Landing as she journeys to Old Town. They also discuss the King's health and how the latest treatment was unsuccessful, but the maesters are hopeful of new ones and hope that she might bring texts from the Citadel on her way back.
Making her way to the small council chamber with her father, Alicent ends up ahead of him when he gets waylayed by conversation, and she enters first with her hands clasped together and eyes on the ground. Slowly she looks up, surprise across her features, when she spots Aemond standing there looking out the window.
The sight of him alone with no one else around softens her features before a smile spills across her lips, alighting her face. She wonders how much time they'll have before her father and the rest of the council enters. Just as she takes several steps, wanting to close the distance between them, she hears the familiar footsteps of her father. Immediately the queen straightens with her shoulders back and head high with her own expression falling. )
Aemond, ( she acknowledges him with a nod before taking a seat at the head of the table, where the King typically sits, but it has been vacant of him for several years now. The Hand sits beside her, across from the young prince, and offers him a nod. ) It pleases me that you are able to join us today.
[ No peace is spared as the council members begin to file in and take their seats. Aemond sinks into his chair only after his mother and grandsire take their seats. Expression cooled as he addresses the two of them, resting his arms along the chair. ]
I'm glad for the opportunity. Tis not one I would waste. [ He doesn't look her in the eye, more so caught by the window of skin carved out by the draping of her dress. Though able to maintain his composure once the Hand offers a nudge of encouragement his way. It's not as though her presence is enough to make him bashful, though perhaps more painfully aware. Perceptiveness hovering on how she moves out of her corner of his eye.
If there is any struggle otherwise, he doesn't show it apart from the wood creaking as he shifts in his chair. Taking greeting from Ser Tyland and Lord Wylde, Lord Beesbury shortly in tow with the Grand Maester. Everyone settling and setting their spheres as conversations carried into the halls idle and turn to the meeting at hand.
He knows his matter not to be an important one, nor does he expect to need to speak first. Would remain a silent fixture at his mother's side. Only ever so breaking his attention at the wandering cup bearer that fills their cups. He hasn't touched his cup. Still but for one finger of one hand digging at the grooves of his chair as Lord Beesbury drones on about port taxation. With the entire table entirely checked out or pretending to be intently focused, does he finally glance over at her.]
( Settling into the oversized chair that makes her already petite frame look smaller than it is, Alicent sits straight with her back lush against the chair with her arms draped over the chair β her finger idly drumming or smoothing over the curved edge as she waits for the rest of the council to file in.
Had she known the dress would be this much of a distraction to her son, she would have requested Talya bring her something else. More aware of his gaze than before, it is hard to ignore how it lingers on her and the exposed skin on her chest. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes, filling the space with each full breath, and the roundness of her breasts becomes more prominent as they press against the bodice.
Relief washes over her when the Hand speaks, pulling Aemond's attention ( mostly ) away from her.
Sitting in this chair behind closed doors, she is a different woman β no longer hunched in on herself with her hands clasped together with a barely noticeable presence that allows many to overlook her as she blends into the shadows but one that sits with pride and authority as she governs over the council in her husband's stead for the betterment of the realm. She nods to the other members as they enter, her features smooth and even with the occasional half-smile turning the corners of her lips up.
When things finally begin, she and the other members of the council broach the topics they wish to discuss. Once that concludes, she addresses everyone, saying Prince Aemond wishes to observe and speak with the council. She barely finishes her sentence before Lord Beesbury begins droning on about the taxation, and her features falter momentarily before she pulls herself together. It would be rude and unladylike to appear bored despite how her mind already begins wandering.
Her gaze flits over the other members, noting their interest β or rather disinterest β and decorum. Slowly her head shifts to Aemond, warm brown eyes slowly dragging over what she can see of him. It is good to see him and have him here beside her. Raising her hand, she smooths it down her neck, the collar of her dress lowering just enough that he can see the mark he left upon her unblemished skin. Her mouth twitches into a small smile, mostly present on the side closest to him, before readjusting the collar to cover it once more. )
[ The lord's droning fades into background noise. Ser Tyland speaks up to shoot down whatever nonsense the elder lord is babbling. The young prince should pay more attention. Even when he knows nothing else of this council will serve him, he still had some interest in the workings. As though some day he might sit in the great chair himself, weighing in on these decisions in his mother's place. Nowhere close to such a thing, and to think of it is still considered treasonous on many counts. Still, he finds himself wondering. If such a duty was ever requested of him.
For now, his attention is torn. Instead he follows the trace of his mother's finger along the collar of her dress. A bruised crescent along her neck that he does not immediately recognize. When he does, his eye flits away, falling upon the Hand and the rest of the table who does not seem to have noticed. The chair creaks beneath him as he adjusts, smiling down at the table for a moment before washing away any sign of that pride.
The heat threatens to rise on his neck again. Trying now to focus heavily on the subject matter before his mind tries to wander away. A part feeling shameful for having marked her, which would threat whispers should any of her ladies catch a peek at it. The desire to leave her more, perhaps somewhere easier to conceal under her dresses. Little memories for her to run her fingers over and think of him. A thought he didn't think to drive him wild.
Aemond shifts to take a drink from his cup. The weak wine washing over his tongue provides a distraction to reset as his grandsire speaks in response over the current matter. Looking briefly to him, almost as if he is trying to clue the young prince in on paying closer attention as he delegates.
He has not a clue what the hell is going on, but resumes pretending to do so. Likely like half the table seems to be similarly engaged. ]
( Drawing attention to the mark on her skin is a bit cruel β especially in the middle of a small council meeting β but there is something satisfying about the way he squirms in her peripheral and that little prideful smile that makes the teasing worthwhile. He isn't alone in her thoughts; she also thinks about him leaving small reminders on the map of her skin. And she would prefer places easier to hide, but she can always make do with wearing a modest dress, even if it seems out of place in the summer heat.
Alicent easily falls back into the flow of conversation, offering reassurances where it is needed, proposing solutions and other options where they are needed, and not afraid to voice her disapproval of anything. It doesn't take long for the conversation to become detailed once more, and following the Hand's lead, she brings the conversation in from the tangent, which threatens to derail the meeting once more. )
My lords, ( voice firm and commanding enough that the chatter quiets down. ) The hour has grown late, and I do not wish to keep any of you here longer, but Prince Aemond wishes to address the council.
( She hopes they will give him the attention he deserves and needs. Unlike Aegon, who spends his time within this chamber drinking and not paying attention to what is being said as he waits for the moment he can leave, Aemond has an interest in the workings of the small council and would have likely paid more attention if she hadn't been a distraction.
With attention now on the young prince, Alicent motions for him to reign in the meeting. )
[ The other concerns of the day provided to be much more interesting. Drawing Aemond's focus as his mother delegates the room. Watching the way she works with the Hand, quelling disagreements before they can burn into fires. Generally, though it can be easily seen how well respected she is. How the seat she takes at this table instills a confidence within her.
As the attention turns on him, Aemond's back straightens as the rest of the rable turns their eyes on him. His hands set neatly at the end of the table, hands clasped. ]
In regards to her Grace's visit to Oldtown, and I as her escort. It is my request that I take my dragon for the moon's journey. [ He begins and gives pause for that request to sink in. His eye flicking between the Hand and the others sat at the table. ]
I understand that this is no easy cost to the Crown, however I do not think it should be any issue. King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne made several tours on dragon-back. Houses big and small not only would have been excited to see a dragon but have the honor of feeding one from their stock as well. I have spoken with the dragonkeepers who recommend a bull or four goats every day or two should suffice. So long as we do not overextend our stay, it should not be any burden to the houses who could host us or of great cost to the smaller ones who would need recompense for their reduced stock.
( Leaning back in the chair, Alicent watches and listens in silence. The instinct within her tells her to chime in, to give him support, and demand the lords see reason, but she understands a man's pride. She need remind herself that he isn't the innocent young boy that desperately needs her; he is a man grown and will want to do things on his own without his mother's involvement.
It is hard to let go and not smother him with her desire to help, but she knows that giving him this and allowing him to feel like a man will be rewarding in the end.
In the silence, as the lords listen to the request of the young prince, the gears in their heads begin to turn β especially those of the Master of coin, Lord Beesbury. Despite his old age, he is quick to calculate the cost of feeding the dragon will cost the crown as some will demand recompense. )
It will be costly ( he begins, )but it is as the young prince says, many houses along the Rose Road will be honored to not only serve the crown but find honor in feeding a dragon.
( The other lords nod, all concurring. )
It would be wise to petition the houses beforehand, ( Lord Tyland chimes in. ) Give them time to survey their stock and make preparations.
[ She would be right, he doesn't need her to step in. It would pull favor of her, but he seeks victory on his own. Otherwise, it would have just been left to her to deal with in his absence. As the lords seem to mill over and deliberate, he waits for someone to try to poke a hole in his reasoning. Ready to counter whatever objection that may lay waiting, but Lord Beesbury's answer comes amicable. As well as Tyland's.
Without even knowing it, the tension slacks slightly in the young prince's shoulders. His gaze levels at the table with a dutiful nod. ]
I will prepare the ravens myself. [ Aemond concludes, leaving no chance for this to escape his oversight.
The table, appeased with the issue, concludes with a bit of rumbling. Those eager to move along with their day easily excuse themselves. Lord Beesbury among the last, as being not a particularly agile fellow. Aemond remains, meeting the Hand's eye across the table who gently voices his approval of Aemond's handling of things as he too readies to depart. Out of ear of any departing lords that may appear too coddling. His lips only slightly curl, modest at most. Thanking him before he goes almost as if it might get him through the door faster.]
( She, too, waits for any of the lords to object to Aemond's proposal, but it doesn't come, leaving her shocked and impressed. More often than naught, most discussions within these chambers bring forth heated arguments. Either the lords are in a good mood and are pleased with the proposal brought on by the young prince, are afraid of the wrath that may come down upon them for disagreeing or throwing it out completely ( though that has never stopped them ), or they are eager to get on with their days.
Still, she is pleased with how things have been handled; between Aemond and the council members. Maybe she should allow him to attend more often β after all, he seems more interested than his brother, and if Aegon ever sits upon the throne, there is a chance Aemond could be a member of his council. But as things stand now, it is princess Rhaenyra that stands to inherit the throne, leaving uncertainties lingering for Alicent and her children.
As the council members depart, the Queen remains seated β nodding and bidding them all farewell. Her gaze lingers on each member, making sure to account for their departure, with the Hand being the last and Criston Cole behind him when she dismisses him, who is sure to close the door leaving the two of them alone. )
You conducted yourself well today, Aemond, ( she praises as she turns to face him. Never did she think otherwise, but rewarding to see all of his hard work, studying, and effort put toward something instead of sitting by idly. )
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With that final, aching thrust of his hips and the roll of hers, she feels the forceful throbs as seed spills from him. Hot and sticky against their bellies. Again, it feels wasteful. Making the desire to finally have him inside her all the more apparent, leaving her aching once more despite having just come.
As their grip on one another lessens and they bask in the afterglow, Alicent rests against him. Not worried about the mess between them. Her thighs tremble as she lowers herself, shifting to straddle one of his as she lays against him fully, head nestling against the crook of his neck. Breathing out deeply, she nuzzles her nose against the underside of his jaw, her lips brushing against his lean neck before kissing it once, then twice.
Content and at peace, enjoying the blissfulness that washes over her, Alicent has no desire to leave the sanctuary of his arms. She wonders how long they can get away with this. Could they afford the risk of getting caught in one another's arms if he spends the night? Selfishly, she doesn't want him to leave, she wants to stay like this forever, but she knows ( eventually ) he will have to dress and make his way back to his chambers while navigating the dark innards of the Holdfast. )
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It is half expected that she might shuffle him off again. Like she had the day before. The moment doesn't come, but these moments feel long and timeless. The night as a whole feels like a dream, wandering the inner maze of the Holdfast to find her standing there with her tea. Simmering in want that even now and sated, still distantly feels an empty endless pool. How long had it been there? How long had he stood blinded to it?
Aemond's fingers move and trace along her bare, warm skin. Idling. Just to check that she is really there. Breathing and content and tucked into his arms. He would think of the times she would have held him like this, back in an earlier age. A poor, broken child. Riddled with loneliness and nightmares. Tucked safely away in his mother's arms under dying firelight. Feeling like nothing else ever existed beyond the walls of this room. Not the sick and dying king they betray down the hall. Not the threat of an unworthy heir waiting with bated breath across the brackish bay. Not even the gods of the Seven themselves could penetrate these walls with threat of wroth. ]
I want to take you flying with me. [ He speaks after what feels like the longest of silences. The soft cadence of his voice ever so quiet. Despite knowing she might never agree to it, might never learn to enjoy it the way a dragon rider does. But tonight for the first time, he saw what she was like when she allowed herself to be free. And never more has he ever felt so free flying on the back of a dragon. Something in like, in this moment, would think to share with her too. ]
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It is strange having their positions switched. Many a night, she lay with him wrapped in his arms, soothing his worries, insecurities, and loneliness while chasing away his nightmares the best she could. Part of her wonders if she could have done more, been a better mother, and protected him, but she knows these are thoughts that all mothers have and perhaps something she worries about more with the switch in dynamic and the change in their relationship to more than simply mother and son.
Relaxed and absorbing his warmth, Alicent begins to feel herself drifting. Her breathing begins evening out as the weight of her body presses into him more, no longer aware of the conscious effort she makes to keep from leaning into him too much.
After that long silence, where she struggles, fighting between consciousness and sleep, she startles when his voice breaks through the silence. A soft mmm? slipping through her nose as she shifts onto her elbow to look down at him, a halo of messy auburn curls framing her face and that half-glazed look of fighting off sleep as she climbs towards wakefulness. )
Flying? ( Her voice husky with sleep but still soft and etched with fondness as she reaches out, with her other hand, softly caressing his cheek with her fingers. Normally she would be dismissive of such a statement, brushing it off, but none of that is there, even as she says, ) Have you gone mad?
As I have never ridden a dragon nor flown, I don't know the first thing about it, and I doubt your dragon will accept me. ( Though he has her blood within her, she doesn't possess the blood of Old Valyria that puts Targaryens closer to Gods and gives them the ability to control dragons. )
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There is a salacious curl of his lips that meets the look she gives him. Chin tipping down and to the side to look up at her a little more clearly, leaned perfectly into the idling touch of her fingertips on his cheek.]
You'll be with me. Vhagar will accept you as I do. [ A soft assurance, but knowingly not much a convincing one. She could never understand how deep the bond between dragon and rider goes. It would be even more difficult to explain it.
Out of all the dragons that reside in the Dragonpit, the she-dragon is the most daunting. Old, cranky, but formidable once she is roused. One too large to lower herself to even be mounted easily. Could she be so bold to try climbing her ropes or would they need to commission a mounting block for her to ascend to the saddle? ]
All you will need to do is hold on. I would not let any harm come to you.
[ He may be bold, but he is not reckless. To ensure the queen of the realm does not fall to her death over the Blackwater Bay. It is not without it's danger, surely. Not for the simple or frail constitution. But she has shown boldness. He would not have brought it up if he did not think she capable. ]
wow 100 comments deep already π
What makes you so positive?
( Of all her children, she puts the most trust in him, so as he tries to reassure her, saying that all she must do is hold onto him and no harm will come to her, it helps soothe some of the worries.
Idly, as her thoughts drift, her fingers dance across his skinβtheir tips ghost over the curve of his grin before sliding down the slope of his chin.
There is much to be said about her actions, by how she hasn't dismissed the idea or scolded him for bringing such a thing up. Perhaps it is because of the boldness he has instilled within her and that invincibility she might have felt in her youth if she strove to achieve her own desires and ambitions instead of yielding to her father's lust for power.
If she is to consider this madness, she will need to make some preparations. First of all, the fact that she doesn't own the proper attire to ride a dragon ( remembering the leathers her once-friend wore and the same that her children donned when they rode ). Everything she owns is finery made for a queen β dresses of silks, satin, damask, and nothing that will protect her from the elements once they are on Vhagar's back, soaring through the skies.
Perhaps she could borrow one of Helaena's riding outfits or dig through Princess Rhaenyra's abandoned apartments in hopes that she left something behind for her to return to after abandoning the Red Keep and moving her family to Dragon Stone.
Her thoughts abruptly stop, realizing that she's actually entertaining the idea. His madness has corrupted her as well, bringing forth a small laugh as she shakes her head. )
I trust you, Aemond, but I make no promises. But, at the very least, I will visit and watch on the morrow or whenever you would have me.
ππlook at us go
The markers on the map have shifted, and absently he wonders why. A lot has changed in such a short time. Now his fingers map the silken skin of her back. He has grown to know her now more intimately than any other man. More so than his own father. They have exchanged devotions and aches that have long plagued them. There is no duty between them that requires her take further part in him. No ransom needed in exchange for her pleasure.
Even so, he still would like to take her into the sky. ]
I'll take you to meet her. May she grow familiar with you. Let you put your hand upon her breast so that you might even feel just one breath of her might. [ The velvety softness in his voice might suggest he would seduce her into the idea. Though it already seems to be taking hold in her mind.
But to ensure she take it further than simply visiting the Dragonpit. So that she cannot just excuse herself and wait in her carriage for him to drop down from the sky. If she truly wanted to entertain it, Vhagar would need to get to know her presence. Soothe her fear. It would be essential. ]
The bond between a dragon and its rider is deeper than anything I've ever known. She feels what I feel, she will trust as I trust. As I would never harm you, the great wyrm would too know not to as well.
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Then there was Helaena, with her insects and cryptic ramblings ( rambling that she should have listened to or paid attention to because they always came true ). Her eldest, Aegon, was a different story; though he too had an interest in dragons, little else inspired him β he was a lazy glutton with a taste for depravity and promiscuity that she would also never understand, which might make her a hypocrite as she lays with Aemond.
Despite it all, she did try, but it wasn't enough, leaving an absence in her children's lives where she should have been. If she had been present or more attentive in their lives, Aegon would have turned out differently, and she would not have crossed that threshold no mother and son should.
It is too late now, as they have given in to one another. Allowed the flames of desires to lick at their aches and loneliness, making them consumed and starved for one another. Beyond their intimacies and the secrets they now share, she knows that she owes him nothing further, but it doesn't stop the desire to share more with him than just lustful moments they find themselves.
Perhaps it is selfish, and he may not feel the same way, but when she said she wants all of him, she meant every word β she wants to share in everything. His interests, happiness, sadness, pleasures, and everything else he would share with her. And because of that, she could be easily seduced into the idea of flying with him atop Vhagar's back as she clings to him instead of returning to her carriage upon finally meeting his dragon. )
On the morrow then, if it isn't too soon. We can share a carriage to the Dragonpit or arrive there separately.
( This leaves little time for her to find something appropriate to wear there, but she will find time to make it happen. She also wonders if it is too soon. Would he need to make preparations or prepare the she-dragon for her arrival? Would he whisper that his mother ( or would he introduce her as his lover or both ) is finally coming to meet her?
The image in her mind is enough to pull a soft laugh from her, but it dies out as she listens to him explain their bond, how intimate it is, and how Vhagar would never harm her as he never would. With how lonely he was as a child β isolated and excluded from those around him, she now understands why he desperately wanted a dragon. He wanted a friend. A companion that would be there.
The realization tugs at her heart, making her remorseful that she wasn't more present. )
It is a bond I will never understand or experience, but meeting her and possibly riding with her will be the closest I will ever get.
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Once he had found a dragon, he had made a friend with a deep inseparable bond that would not break until either one was dead, he needed her less and less. But what is it to say about him now that still his only friend is that old, grouchy ancient war beast?
The shift is palpable as he watches her make that link β a link he hadn't realized she might make. The spoils of their arrangement has loosened his tongue. A moment that shifts to where she doesn't look at him as he is now, but the small child that would bury himself in her embrace. Weak and vulnerable, things he swore himself to never be again.
It suddenly feels like walls crumbling in on him β the way she looks at him. Deeper plunged into him than any intimacy they've exchanged so far.
Unlike her, he does not sit well with his demons.
Aemond's gaze drops, head shifting among the sheets. A hum affirms the plan in Aemond's throat, notably cool. Slightly distracted. Among his petition to his grandsire, they will make the time to meet Vhagar. Tides shifting as the night carries, he sees the opening that would avail his squirming. His hand coming to fall at her side to suggest he is about to take his leave. Fingers still light, not pressing.]
I should go. [Before Talya might check in on her, before they both fall asleep and the morning comes. Part of him still doesn't want to leave, would desire to sleep in her arms. Equally part of him now needs air, feeling sticky and cooled.]
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It is voracious to want him longer, knowing that the chances of their discovery increase as they approach dawn.
There is reluctant defiance as she lingers against him instead of moving away to allow him to leave. She leans into him again, allowing the weight of her body to press into him β forehead coming to rest against his as she basks in the moment. Putting to memory how it feels to be with him, so she can recall it when her bed is empty, and she longs for his presence. )
Of course, ( she finally says, the reluctance thick on her tongue as she takes another kiss before rolling away to sit at the edge of the bed. Outstretching her fingers, she grabs ahold of her robes and pulls them around her, the coolness of the fabric a drastic different than the warmth of him she felt moments before. ) Though I wish you could stay.
( Would stay, is what she wants to stay, but she understands that she cannot keep him here forever.
She glances at him from over her shoulder, a slight knit to her brow. That ache is still present in her chest, caused by the connection she made ( the one he wishes she would have remained oblivious to if it weren't for the slip of his tongue, but it is a connection she would have made eventually or maybe even something she always knew but chose to ignore and bury beneath the weight of her own miserable loneliness. It wasn't the right thing to do, leaving her children feeling a void where she should have been, but it was what she needed to do to endure and survive. ) and the desire to have him stay.
It isn't that she doesn't see him as he is now and sees him as the boy who once buried himself in her embrace β it's that she notices that she wasn't alone in her misery. While there was often a detached void where she should have been, she hopes that being present now will make up for some of it. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wants this arrangement between them more than anything else and has the ambition to make it last. )
Shall I see you come tomorrow, or would another day be better to visit the Dragonpit?
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Practically swinging upright with his tail tucked between his legs. He pinches his eyes shut a moment, sat opposite the side of the bed as she pulls her robe on. Delayed, the young prince dresses as well, stepping into his breeches and then his boots. He tastes his lips before he rises, still lingering of her. As if finally committed to what has already started. Crossing the room to gather the rest of his things before she poses her question. ]
Mayhaps later in the day. [ The prince answers as he bends upright, hands fretfully turning around his shirt to find the hem of it. ] I need to prepare to speak to grandfather in the morn.
[ It's not as though he's suddenly changed his mind. Nor has he somehow become scared of his own shadow. Just needs to clear his head, for however long it needs. A long breath is taken, sobering as he pulls his shirt back over his head. Flicking out his hair from underneath the collar as he turns to look at her. Uncertain now of what he is doing, standing in the middle of the room feeling like an idiot. Pretending somewhat that this is normal. None of it is fucking normal.
He wants to stay. He wants to craw back into her arms. Knowing she would have him stay, she would keep him there for as long as he would want. That's never changed, only that they can't do it anymore. For a long time he would have denied himself that comfort, not becoming of a man grown. The circumstances of it has changed. Twisted and mangled into this thickened feeling. ]
Shall I return tomorrow in the night? [ Aemond asks, steps wading back to her are slow and ambling. Serving to move closer towards the door tucked away behind her bedside curtains, but to her as well. How often will she call upon him? How many mornings will he need to stumble his way back through the dregs of the Holdfast before anyone the wiser? ]
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The answer he gives her feels like a nonanswer, lingering between yes and no. It is infuriating, especially when she needs an answer to know if she should prepare for the short notice of tomorrow or if she has time. As desperate as she wants an answer, she doesn't push it β she doesn't want to be overbearing or smothering. So, she nods in agreement.
Until today she wanted nothing to do with any of their dragons. Not to meet them or get to know them or ride them. So what's waiting a few more days?
Ultimately, her excitement and interest don't lie with meeting Vhagar or getting to know her but with partaking in his interests. To experience his true self behind whatever mask he wears when around her. She wants to be part of his life's more intimate and private details, but she also knows they are moving at an alarming rate, and he might not be prepared for all that. And because of that, she is more than willing to go at whatever pace he might pick for them. )
I would like that, ( she replies and continues to watch him. Wondering if he will approach her or head straight for the door. ) If I lean the way, I could visit you instead, or if you would prefer a full night's rest, we can come together another time.
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It is her he directs himself towards. Eyes lowered to the ground first as he closes in a few steps where he might have diverged to make a clean escape. Almost like a child who has not forgotten to mind his manners, he would not leave without bidding her a proper goodbye. Feeling foolish and yet still capable of allowing her to swallow him up back into bed if she so wished. Gods and the faces of the Seven would know he could not resist it. If it could simply consume him whole. ]
I don't need peace. [ She gives him an out once again that he does not seem to take. Despite the sting of flight nipping at his heels. He'd resist the urge any more than he would have if he were down in the guts of the Dragonpit, staring the chance of Dreamfyre swallowing him whole. ]
I would prefer to see you again. [ Aemond assures, though would sound almost modest in his courting. Fighting the strangeness that clouds it and poisons his mind. His hand lifts to reach out to her, brushing an astray curl away from her eyes. Before leaning down to press a kiss to the cheek at the corner of her mouth.]
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You may not need peace, but you do need rest, ( she comments as she looks up at him. Typical of a mother to worry for her son or a woman to her lover, to ensure he is restful and well β too many late nights of passion only to wake with the morning will begin to take its toll. Even with how greedy she feels and wants nothing more than to get lost in him, she understands the need to be alone, to reflect, and to rest.
Or she thinks this is what he needs, after years of her lord husband requesting her to leave him, that he needed time alone.
His words reassure her, that worried crease in her brow dissipating as she leans into his touch as he brushes a stray curl away. The press of his lips feels like fire on her skin, the urge to pull him down with her flicking at her with the fires burning deep within her. Just allow her a few more hours to stay lost in him, basking in the comfort and warmth he provides.
As she shifts, a shaken breath escapes her before she claims his lips fully, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulls him in, keeping the kiss but allowing him to keep standing despite the desire to feel his weight on top of her body once more. )
Every night you want me, I will wait for you. ( murmurs as she breaks the kiss, lingering close, reluctant to release him.
Not wanting to keep him longer than he wishes to stay and no not smother him, she unravels her arms from around his neck. Fingers gliding through his silvery hair before coming to rest on her lap. )
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It feels backwards, what she says. In all her power to put her devotion to him and not the other way around. Giving a privilege and a power he's not used to wielding. Stood over her the way he does now, not yet lifting himself from her kiss as he hands flow through him and down to her lap. The only man who should hold that privilege is the king himself. The man who has squandered her and left her bed cold long before he was incapable of leaving his own. Now he holds that power?
Aemond's lips curl into a small, prideful smile.] I would not keep you wanting.
Goodnight, mother. [ He departs shortly, the softest hints of delight in his quiet voice. Pulling himself further is remarkably more regretful than before. Even as he pulls the drapery back, he does not linger more than necessary. The soft click of the door finally sounding his departure. The tempered torch he had left along his way still smoldering as he plucks it from the wall. Making a very quiet way through the dark underbelly back to a cold dark room to hopefully sleep off well enough until the morrow. ]
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Because he had forgotten about her, squandered all of her, and left her bed cold ( or stopped inviting her to his as he never visited her and requested her in the middle of the night ), this privilege that no man other than her lord husband should have is hers to give freely.
No one in the Seven Kingdoms or even the known world deserves it more than Aemond.
That small, prideful smile eases whatever worries she might have had from the shift she felt in the air around them. She loves to see him smile, to know that she is the cause behind it, and she offers one of her own β warm and genuine. )
Goodnight, Aemond. ( Her words are soft as she turns to watch him leave, contending with the aching longing that already threatens to take hold within her chest. It isn't as if she will never see him again, but it doesn't stop her longing when they are separated.
Rising from her bed, Alicent strides to the table before the window to pour herself the last bit of tea. It has already gone cold, but she doesn't mind. She slides her tongue along her lips, tasting the remnants of him ( and herself ) upon them. This is madness, she thinks as she takes a long pull from her cup, empties it, then sets it on the table. And while it might be madness, she more than happily submits, allowing it to pull her down into its depths.
After unlatching the door, she cleans herself the best she can of his seed that sticks to her stomach and returns to her bed, removing her robe and pulling her nightgown on once more before crawling into bed. It doesn't take long for sleep to claim her.
She rises as the first rays of light slip through the window and the sound of Talya milling about to prepare the Queen for the day. After bathing, Alicent sits at her vanity, brushing vanilla and musk oils into her hair, and notices the red mark on her neck. Her fingers trace over it, wondering if a bug bit her in the middle of the night before remembering Aemon's lips upon her neck β the memory sends a shiver down her spine. She requests Talya to get her a modest dress with a high collar ( hopefully high enough to cover the mark ).
Talya returns with a dress as the Queen requested and begins helping her dress. It feels silly to wear such a gown in the summer, but she does what she must to hide the mark before heading down to break her fact. )
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Despite his notions of desiring no peace, the morning had been pressing. For everything he had intended to do stripped for time in his own meticulously kept schedule. Would not have had accounted for all the time he'd spent lustfully chasing after his mother. Hard to regret it, though he disliked the distraction it gave once his attention had been culled to something actually important.
Skipping a morning meal proved profitable to make up. Leaving him time to arrive there early, almost as overcompensating for the fact that he was granted the ability to attend the small council. Something more often offered to his brother, who likely squandered every opportunity he'd been granted so far. The second son more determined to make the best of it.
His head turns as he hears footsteps linger closer and closer down the hall. Wondering which of the council is to arrive first, only to find that it is the Queen herself. His expression then changes, something wry and soft. Almost as he means to speak something uncouth when shortly behind him arrives the Hand himself. Aemond's expression falls and hardens as he wets his lips.]
Good morrow, mother. Grandfather. [ He greets instead, his hands tucking themselves behind his back as he departs the window to take a seat at the table. ]
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The morning passes, filled with conversation with her father as they break fast together, discussing her time away from the Red Keep and King's Landing as she journeys to Old Town. They also discuss the King's health and how the latest treatment was unsuccessful, but the maesters are hopeful of new ones and hope that she might bring texts from the Citadel on her way back.
Making her way to the small council chamber with her father, Alicent ends up ahead of him when he gets waylayed by conversation, and she enters first with her hands clasped together and eyes on the ground. Slowly she looks up, surprise across her features, when she spots Aemond standing there looking out the window.
The sight of him alone with no one else around softens her features before a smile spills across her lips, alighting her face. She wonders how much time they'll have before her father and the rest of the council enters. Just as she takes several steps, wanting to close the distance between them, she hears the familiar footsteps of her father. Immediately the queen straightens with her shoulders back and head high with her own expression falling. )
Aemond, ( she acknowledges him with a nod before taking a seat at the head of the table, where the King typically sits, but it has been vacant of him for several years now. The Hand sits beside her, across from the young prince, and offers him a nod. ) It pleases me that you are able to join us today.
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I'm glad for the opportunity. Tis not one I would waste. [ He doesn't look her in the eye, more so caught by the window of skin carved out by the draping of her dress. Though able to maintain his composure once the Hand offers a nudge of encouragement his way. It's not as though her presence is enough to make him bashful, though perhaps more painfully aware. Perceptiveness hovering on how she moves out of her corner of his eye.
If there is any struggle otherwise, he doesn't show it apart from the wood creaking as he shifts in his chair. Taking greeting from Ser Tyland and Lord Wylde, Lord Beesbury shortly in tow with the Grand Maester. Everyone settling and setting their spheres as conversations carried into the halls idle and turn to the meeting at hand.
He knows his matter not to be an important one, nor does he expect to need to speak first. Would remain a silent fixture at his mother's side. Only ever so breaking his attention at the wandering cup bearer that fills their cups. He hasn't touched his cup. Still but for one finger of one hand digging at the grooves of his chair as Lord Beesbury drones on about port taxation. With the entire table entirely checked out or pretending to be intently focused, does he finally glance over at her.]
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Had she known the dress would be this much of a distraction to her son, she would have requested Talya bring her something else. More aware of his gaze than before, it is hard to ignore how it lingers on her and the exposed skin on her chest. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes, filling the space with each full breath, and the roundness of her breasts becomes more prominent as they press against the bodice.
Relief washes over her when the Hand speaks, pulling Aemond's attention ( mostly ) away from her.
Sitting in this chair behind closed doors, she is a different woman β no longer hunched in on herself with her hands clasped together with a barely noticeable presence that allows many to overlook her as she blends into the shadows but one that sits with pride and authority as she governs over the council in her husband's stead for the betterment of the realm. She nods to the other members as they enter, her features smooth and even with the occasional half-smile turning the corners of her lips up.
When things finally begin, she and the other members of the council broach the topics they wish to discuss. Once that concludes, she addresses everyone, saying Prince Aemond wishes to observe and speak with the council. She barely finishes her sentence before Lord Beesbury begins droning on about the taxation, and her features falter momentarily before she pulls herself together. It would be rude and unladylike to appear bored despite how her mind already begins wandering.
Her gaze flits over the other members, noting their interest β or rather disinterest β and decorum. Slowly her head shifts to Aemond, warm brown eyes slowly dragging over what she can see of him. It is good to see him and have him here beside her. Raising her hand, she smooths it down her neck, the collar of her dress lowering just enough that he can see the mark he left upon her unblemished skin. Her mouth twitches into a small smile, mostly present on the side closest to him, before readjusting the collar to cover it once more. )
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For now, his attention is torn. Instead he follows the trace of his mother's finger along the collar of her dress. A bruised crescent along her neck that he does not immediately recognize. When he does, his eye flits away, falling upon the Hand and the rest of the table who does not seem to have noticed. The chair creaks beneath him as he adjusts, smiling down at the table for a moment before washing away any sign of that pride.
The heat threatens to rise on his neck again. Trying now to focus heavily on the subject matter before his mind tries to wander away. A part feeling shameful for having marked her, which would threat whispers should any of her ladies catch a peek at it. The desire to leave her more, perhaps somewhere easier to conceal under her dresses. Little memories for her to run her fingers over and think of him. A thought he didn't think to drive him wild.
Aemond shifts to take a drink from his cup. The weak wine washing over his tongue provides a distraction to reset as his grandsire speaks in response over the current matter. Looking briefly to him, almost as if he is trying to clue the young prince in on paying closer attention as he delegates.
He has not a clue what the hell is going on, but resumes pretending to do so. Likely like half the table seems to be similarly engaged. ]
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Alicent easily falls back into the flow of conversation, offering reassurances where it is needed, proposing solutions and other options where they are needed, and not afraid to voice her disapproval of anything. It doesn't take long for the conversation to become detailed once more, and following the Hand's lead, she brings the conversation in from the tangent, which threatens to derail the meeting once more. )
My lords, ( voice firm and commanding enough that the chatter quiets down. ) The hour has grown late, and I do not wish to keep any of you here longer, but Prince Aemond wishes to address the council.
( She hopes they will give him the attention he deserves and needs. Unlike Aegon, who spends his time within this chamber drinking and not paying attention to what is being said as he waits for the moment he can leave, Aemond has an interest in the workings of the small council and would have likely paid more attention if she hadn't been a distraction.
With attention now on the young prince, Alicent motions for him to reign in the meeting. )
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As the attention turns on him, Aemond's back straightens as the rest of the rable turns their eyes on him. His hands set neatly at the end of the table, hands clasped. ]
In regards to her Grace's visit to Oldtown, and I as her escort. It is my request that I take my dragon for the moon's journey. [ He begins and gives pause for that request to sink in. His eye flicking between the Hand and the others sat at the table. ]
I understand that this is no easy cost to the Crown, however I do not think it should be any issue. King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne made several tours on dragon-back. Houses big and small not only would have been excited to see a dragon but have the honor of feeding one from their stock as well. I have spoken with the dragonkeepers who recommend a bull or four goats every day or two should suffice. So long as we do not overextend our stay, it should not be any burden to the houses who could host us or of great cost to the smaller ones who would need recompense for their reduced stock.
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It is hard to let go and not smother him with her desire to help, but she knows that giving him this and allowing him to feel like a man will be rewarding in the end.
In the silence, as the lords listen to the request of the young prince, the gears in their heads begin to turn β especially those of the Master of coin, Lord Beesbury. Despite his old age, he is quick to calculate the cost of feeding the dragon will cost the crown as some will demand recompense. )
It will be costly ( he begins, )but it is as the young prince says, many houses along the Rose Road will be honored to not only serve the crown but find honor in feeding a dragon.
( The other lords nod, all concurring. )
It would be wise to petition the houses beforehand, ( Lord Tyland chimes in. ) Give them time to survey their stock and make preparations.
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Without even knowing it, the tension slacks slightly in the young prince's shoulders. His gaze levels at the table with a dutiful nod. ]
I will prepare the ravens myself. [ Aemond concludes, leaving no chance for this to escape his oversight.
The table, appeased with the issue, concludes with a bit of rumbling. Those eager to move along with their day easily excuse themselves. Lord Beesbury among the last, as being not a particularly agile fellow. Aemond remains, meeting the Hand's eye across the table who gently voices his approval of Aemond's handling of things as he too readies to depart. Out of ear of any departing lords that may appear too coddling. His lips only slightly curl, modest at most. Thanking him before he goes almost as if it might get him through the door faster.]
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Still, she is pleased with how things have been handled; between Aemond and the council members. Maybe she should allow him to attend more often β after all, he seems more interested than his brother, and if Aegon ever sits upon the throne, there is a chance Aemond could be a member of his council. But as things stand now, it is princess Rhaenyra that stands to inherit the throne, leaving uncertainties lingering for Alicent and her children.
As the council members depart, the Queen remains seated β nodding and bidding them all farewell. Her gaze lingers on each member, making sure to account for their departure, with the Hand being the last and Criston Cole behind him when she dismisses him, who is sure to close the door leaving the two of them alone. )
You conducted yourself well today, Aemond, ( she praises as she turns to face him. Never did she think otherwise, but rewarding to see all of his hard work, studying, and effort put toward something instead of sitting by idly. )
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forever later
π Iβm on my phone so I sure hope thatβs the right html for hovertext
guess who's back, back again?
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