( 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. )
[ It's difficult imagining himself a fixture at this table without sitting where his mother sits, his father's seat. Becoming an adviser never truly struck an interest, but a king. A regent even. Though those were always treasonous fantasies. Where he and his mother know that the throne is promised to another and likely he to not stand in this chamber at all when the time comes. Even more lingers underneath the what if among what ifs that still whisper under lord's breaths when their father finally takes his last breath.
He often tries to wash his mind of such things. Then again, Aemond has proven rather treasonous lately in the company of his mother. Of which he holds back as he looks over at her with a gentle nod, shifting back into his chair to relax as he had before.]
Thank you for allowing me to attend.
[ It feels fake, like a play they have to put on between them. Even now in a closed and empty chamber. Pretending to just be a mother and a son. But when he looks at her, it's impossible not to see the rest of it. Nor is it to try and not speak on it.
He wets his lips and composes his gaze back at the table before drawing back to her. ] I think if there would have been more protest, they probably would have balked at how simple it would be to just fly you to Oldtown.
It would be good to have you in more of them; I think, ( her words hold truth, not just spoken to stroke his ego or placate his desires. Whenever Aegon attends these meetings, he looks like a caged animal, ready to escape where Aemond looks like he belongs. )
Would you enjoy attention more? I could suggest it to your grandsire and the other council members if it pleases you.
( A brow raises when he mentions flying her to Oldtown. The idea sends a shiver of anxiety through her. She might not feel this way if she had taken any interest in flying and accompanying Rhaenyra or her children when around their dragons. Still, the idea frightens her, but he does have a point β it would be easier and faster. )
How long would such a journey take on dragon back?
( There is some curiosity in her voice as she meets his gaze, her features having shifted softer, away from the cold and stony exterior she presented to the council.
She shifts to stand, moving around the corner of the table to stand beside him, leaning ( almost sitting ) on the table's edge as she reaches out, letting her fingers softly graze over his cheek and down the sharp angle of his jaw. For a moment, her touch lingers before letting her hand rest on her lap. It is impossible not to touch or reach out to him; it is all she wanted to do for the whole meeting, and she couldn't wait for the others to leave so she could be alone with him.
And because of her thoughts and desires and inability to not want him, she almost fears she comes across as too desperate and lonely and clingy. )
[ The touch is wanted, it's not that it isn't. So would be the idea of attending more of these meetings, as laborious as they might get. Only that he already dedicates a lot of his time to his studies, his training, it already feels as though little else has time for him. Even just these couple of days wrapped up in her attention chips away at the time left in his day. Though mayhaps he simply just hasn't been adjusted to it yet. Today feels an outlier, but it didn't come without sacrifices.
It's natural of him to soften to her touch, head tilted slightly as it pulls away almost as quickly as it lingered. His eye remaining on her as if trying to gauge how interested she really might be in such an idea.]
Three days if pressed. Four if flying comfortably. [ A pause to gauge her reaction ]
The Conciliator and the Good Queen made the journey once. Stopping in Bitterbridge and Highgarden. Would not be unreasonable to stop in Brightwater or Horn Hill if they had a day to spare, I imagine.
[ How would she handle that? Flying for hours on end. There was under no circumstance she would allow it. The queen and a prince left largely unguarded. Vhagar was a mighty beast capable of making any reasonable man to think twice, but it was risky. He still liked the idea, if only for the autonomy. ] As simple it would be, it would be unreasonable to transport a Queen who is not accustomed to such things.
( Once, she would have been repulsed by such an idea, but it settles on her differently now as she entertains it. Bottom lip jutting out slightly as they pull down slightly in thought. Three days if pressed and four if flying comfortably.
It is appealing, and she would be a liar to say otherwise. Such a trip would save the crown money in the end. The journey to and from would take eight days, leaving more time for them to spend in Oldtown or anywhere along the way versus the two moons long trip it would have taken by carriage.
Her hands shift from her lap, palms pressed against the table, and fingers curling under the edge. Her shoulders back, chest pushed out, and rises with each breath.
The only downfall ( if she dares even to call it that ) is that they would be alone, without anyone to guard them. While she knows he is skilled with a sword and Vhagar is a deterrent in and of herself, there are still those who would be foolish to attempt something if they know the queen and the young prince are traveling alone β it would be a handsome ransom. It is risky, perhaps too risky.
She cannot remember the last time she went anywhere without the royal guard, and yet she can't stop herself from reveling in the thought of being utterly alone with him. )
While I am not as skilled or knowledgeable as you and your sibling are regarding dragons, I know your saddle is made for one. This means, whether for the trip to Oldtown or flying with you regularly, I would either need to sit in your lap, or you'd be pressed against the pommel with me behind you.
There is also the matter of my lack of proper riding β flying attire and being unaccustomed, as you said.
[ He is staring respectfully, but must she sit like that? Aemond's index finger digs at the groove in the armrest of his chair. Still listening as she rebuffs the idea in her own words. Would appear as attentive as ever, though his attention threatens to divest him elsewhere.
It's not that small of a saddle, he would argue. She could fit it. For long durations, he hadn't thought about it in too much a detail. Nor would he seem to mind the thought of being pressed up against her for such a time. Though those thoughts are too strangled in his mind. It was a laborious idea, which is why he only meant to mention it to make a point among the lords. But one ride with her, at least. If not to Oldtown, perhaps somewhere closer.
Aemond's gaze falls and he swallows dry before speaking. ]
There is still time to accustom you. [ He notes as though it were a new suggestion. Playful, but so very subtle as though it got ahead of himself. He looks away briefly, chipping off a splinter of wood with his nail before flicking it away as he wets his lips. Recovering himself to speak more amicably. ]
We can still meet with her this afternoon, if you're not already engaged.
Edited (some text got eaten up ) 2023-01-25 03:03 (UTC)
( When was the last time he was so fervently insistent about something? She recalls how desperate he was for a dragon of his own, often sneaking into the depths of the Dragonpit with an inkling of hope only to be chased out with fear clinging to him. As terrified as she was for his safety and wellbeing, she never blamed him for wanting one of his own β to belong and be part of something, like his brother and nephews.
But after that β what held his interest so? Was there anything other than Vhagar and flying? There were his studies and training, but that all felt like it pales compared to his newfound desire to get her to ride with him.
She remains silent for a long moment, noting his voice's playfulness and how he idly picks at the chair. In an idleness of her own, Alicen't fingers drum against the underside of the table. )
This afternoon and evening are free of engagements, ( she finally says. ) I thought to relax in the baths at some point, but that can wait until we return.
( Playfully, she bumps her leg against his before beginning to push herself away from the table. ) Suppose I should ready myself. Shall we meet there or arrive together?
[ Aemond thinks she'll understand when she finally commits to it. In spite of his foolish honesty mumbled underneath her bedsheets, it is something he still wishes to share with her. An indescribable feeling that has latched to him since he was a small boy. She has indulged him in the idea this far. Knowing how fleeting her interests have been before, this time feels a bit different. His only wish is that she wasn't indulging him out of guilt or pity.
Her answer comes slow, but when it does Aemond's expression softens just so. As she moves, so does he. Brushing back his chair so that he may too rise to his feet.]
I don't mind waiting. [ He answers as he steps around his chair, hands smoothing and straightening his coat by it's bottom hem. Waiting beside to depart with her at last.
It's easier this way, nor is he in any particular rush to make it to the Dragonpit on this day. The attendance of the council and the preparations beforehand have uprooted whatever normalcy there was. Unnatural as it is, he doesn't seem to mind it. Nor would the prospect of more time spent together, as strange as it already were.]
( None of what she does is out of guilt or pity, even if she suffers from pangs of those emotions β her wishful desire to be with him and share in what he enjoys drives her.
With him standing beside her, Alicent gently places her hand in the crook of his elbow, her fingers pressing into the fabric of his coat, sinking into the plush fabric. The thought of lingering here together dances in the forefront of her imagination, of him pressing her against the table, mouth hungry against hers, or even him sitting in the chair at the head of the table, kneeling between his legs, or sitting on his lap. But she does not allow the temptation to linger long, as they have plans to head to the Dragonpit, and with each passing second, they are losing light. )
If you are free and do not have business to attend, care to walk me to my chambers?
I will ready myself then meet you in the middle bailey, ( she starts, then looks up at him before adding, ) unless you wish to stay.
( There are a few places she knows she'll be able to find suitable riding ware, as she owns none. Preferably she would like to start the abandoned apartments of the princess as she likely left things behind for the rare occasion she visits before asking Helaena or Talya for assistance. )
[ An innocent touch, wracked with temptations. Without knowing, her thoughts had mirrored his own as he struggled to remain composed throughout their meeting. Makes no obvious protest to escorting her this way, it's as if they've always done. If there were anything pertinent in his day, it wasn't pressing enough for him to deny her the escort.
Aemond's hand pauses at the door to meet her look as she implies him to stay while she gets ready. Wavering on a thought most imprudent as he thinks of the way she'd looked as she shed her gown. A thought that is quickly brushed away.]
I don't mind. Though β [ He pauses, as though trying to filter through the right words. Trying to find something genteel among sullied ones. ] I am not sure that we may ever leave. If I stay.
[ Just a thought. Is that a good or bad thing either way? His tone implies nothing. It's not as though they don't have any other day to go.
A pause before Aemond resumes pulling the door open. Though no eyes are on them, nothing out of the ordinary in the way that a son may be escorting his mother, the prince's back straightens just slightly. Thrust back under the risk of eyes and ears as they step out into the hall. Though the presence scant in the corridor, the familiar buzzing of knights, lords, and servants echo up from the serpentine steps.]
There is truth to your words, ( she concedes with a soft laugh to her words upon coming to the same realization. ) You shall leave me at the door, then, as I would hate to push this off to another day.
( Unlike how she acted when he was younger, her interest in meeting Vhagar and possibly flying with him will not wane, but she feels the sooner it happens, the better. To prepare herself if they fly to Oldtown or because she wishes to do more with him than slink around in the cover of night or whatever privacy they might find.
As the doors open, Alicent stands straighter as well. Happily smiling, nodding, and greeting those who pass as they make their way from the small council chamber to her apartments in Maegor's Holdfast.
This deep in the palace, they have more privacy than the halls or areas they walked, but with it still being day ( and even at night ), there is a chance that someone may overhear them. After a quick survey of the hall, Alicent leans in, looking up at him as her hand tightens on his arm. )
If you do not wish to stay, I will need no more than an hour to ready, and I will meet you at the carriage.
[ Similarly, Aemond makes a subtle survey as they cross from hall to hall. Less milling about these corridors but for the occasional servant or stationed guard. Quiet but for the echoes of their footsteps. As innocuous as a question it sounds, he would not have deemed it odd to relax in her antechamber for a time before engagements. Though he's not waiting for dinner and it is up to question if either of them can be trusted with their time along again.
He is better than this. He can wait. He can be abstinent. He can go long periods of time without thinking about trying to crush his mouth against hers against every available hard surface. Or wishing away his free will to allow her to simply command him through those doors instead. He can't let it consume him.
Carefully, Aemond's hand lifts to gather his mother's out from over the clasp along his arm. Peeling it away carefully, his thumb grazing along the tops of her fingers as he removes himself. Dismissing himself with a nod as he speaks. ]
I shall see you upon the hour, mother. [ There it is again, that little affection in his tone. If she had any doubt that he does wish to stay, it hides within the curls of his smile as he steps away. The encroaching footsteps echoing down the hall is what turns him away at last, his hands tucking themselves behind his back as he departs. Similarly to return to his own chambers to change and await for her as they had planned.]
( Returning the nod, Alicent enters her chambers despite the desperate urge to linger in the hall to watch him disappear around a corner. What little time she has is precious and will pass before she realizes it.
Sitting at her vanity, she begins combing through her hair and adds oils once she's done before braiding it over one shoulder ( with hopes that it will cover the mark he left on her neck should she be unable to find an outfit that will cover it ) and securing the end with a ribbon.
Satisfied with what she sees in the mirror, she pushes herself from her chair and is in the hall again, making her way to the abandoned apartments reserved for the princess and her family should they ever return. She pauses before the door, hand on the handle. There is an ache in her chest as she longs for the woman she once called friend, but she pushes those emotions aside and enters the chambers.
After closing the door, she immediately heads towards the trunks she knew the princess once used to store her riding gear. She expects it to be empty but is pleasantly surprised to find some still there. With haste, she begins pulling her dress off, the stays and shift beneath before pulling on the clothes she found in the trunk.
Unfortunately, the clothes within the drunk aren't the shades of green she typically wears, but she can settle for the blacks and reds of House Targaryen (the colors she once wore ). First, she pulls on the crimson shirt, then the black breeches that she tucks the shirt. Next comes the dark grey surcoat with dragon scales upon the shoulders, around the neck, and along the forearms, with silver fastenings along the chest and a belt around her waist. Grabbing the gloves from the box, she slips her shoes on, grabs her clothes, and heads back to her chambers, where she tosses her clothes over the back of a chair and pulls on her own black riding boots.
With one last glance in the mirror, Alicent heads down to the middle bailey. Head high as he descends the stairs, she tucks the gloves into her belt, ignoring the looks as if she isn't dressed for riding and is no longer clad in green.
Once in the bailey, she slips into the waiting carriage. )
[ Aemond is awaiting patiently among the pillows when it is time for his mother to join him. Only needing a far less measure of time to change into a leather jerkin and adjust his hair so that it lies more gathered over his shoulders. Riding gloves similarly tucked into his belt. With one foot kicked up onto the bench, he glances over from idle musing as the carriage door swings open.
Slowly, the prince's head turns to watch her as she sits. If not obviously lightly stunned to see her donning anything other than green. It's not as though he hasn't seen it before. With her hair braided it reminded him of old tapestries woven of her when she was a young queen. The shades of their house red and black blended to match with her copper hair.
It's very....unexpected of her. It's also very unexpected how much he likes seeing her in it. The prince smiles, fighting at the corners of his mouth as the door shuts as she settles. The carriage rocking into a gentle motion. He pulls his eyes off her a moment, composing himself with a dry swallow. ]
Is that my sisters? [He asks in both parts innocently curious and rakishly accusatory as he feigns his attention back out through the lattice.]
( She settles across from him, leaning into the pillows and meeting his gaze as the carriage lurches into motion. The expression on his face is to be expected; unlike his older siblings ( though far too young to even remember ), Aemond was born after she stopped wearing the colors of her husband's house the day of Rhaenyra's wedding and has solely worn the colors of her father's house since.
Feeling a flush of embarrassment ( from his gaze and feeling out of place in the clothes ) threatening to spread over her cheeks and neck, she looks away, fixing her gaze on a spot on the wall where the shadows of the city filter through the latticed window. )
Rhaenyra's. I did not wish to bother Helaena and the children. ( If she had more time to prepare, she would have had her own riding clothes made, but as all of this has been rather spontaneous, she has resorted to rummaging through old chests to find this. Her hands smooth over the leather breeches, happy they fit as she has remained as slender and graceful as before having children β this has made borrowing her former friend's and stepdaughter's clothes easier. )
Once we return, I should speak with Talya to have my own made.
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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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He often tries to wash his mind of such things. Then again, Aemond has proven rather treasonous lately in the company of his mother. Of which he holds back as he looks over at her with a gentle nod, shifting back into his chair to relax as he had before.]
Thank you for allowing me to attend.
[ It feels fake, like a play they have to put on between them. Even now in a closed and empty chamber. Pretending to just be a mother and a son. But when he looks at her, it's impossible not to see the rest of it. Nor is it to try and not speak on it.
He wets his lips and composes his gaze back at the table before drawing back to her. ] I think if there would have been more protest, they probably would have balked at how simple it would be to just fly you to Oldtown.
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Would you enjoy attention more? I could suggest it to your grandsire and the other council members if it pleases you.
( A brow raises when he mentions flying her to Oldtown. The idea sends a shiver of anxiety through her. She might not feel this way if she had taken any interest in flying and accompanying Rhaenyra or her children when around their dragons. Still, the idea frightens her, but he does have a point β it would be easier and faster. )
How long would such a journey take on dragon back?
( There is some curiosity in her voice as she meets his gaze, her features having shifted softer, away from the cold and stony exterior she presented to the council.
She shifts to stand, moving around the corner of the table to stand beside him, leaning ( almost sitting ) on the table's edge as she reaches out, letting her fingers softly graze over his cheek and down the sharp angle of his jaw. For a moment, her touch lingers before letting her hand rest on her lap. It is impossible not to touch or reach out to him; it is all she wanted to do for the whole meeting, and she couldn't wait for the others to leave so she could be alone with him.
And because of her thoughts and desires and inability to not want him, she almost fears she comes across as too desperate and lonely and clingy. )
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It's natural of him to soften to her touch, head tilted slightly as it pulls away almost as quickly as it lingered. His eye remaining on her as if trying to gauge how interested she really might be in such an idea.]
Three days if pressed. Four if flying comfortably. [ A pause to gauge her reaction ]
The Conciliator and the Good Queen made the journey once. Stopping in Bitterbridge and Highgarden. Would not be unreasonable to stop in Brightwater or Horn Hill if they had a day to spare, I imagine.
[ How would she handle that? Flying for hours on end. There was under no circumstance she would allow it. The queen and a prince left largely unguarded. Vhagar was a mighty beast capable of making any reasonable man to think twice, but it was risky. He still liked the idea, if only for the autonomy. ] As simple it would be, it would be unreasonable to transport a Queen who is not accustomed to such things.
[ Unless. ]
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It is appealing, and she would be a liar to say otherwise. Such a trip would save the crown money in the end. The journey to and from would take eight days, leaving more time for them to spend in Oldtown or anywhere along the way versus the two moons long trip it would have taken by carriage.
Her hands shift from her lap, palms pressed against the table, and fingers curling under the edge. Her shoulders back, chest pushed out, and rises with each breath.
The only downfall ( if she dares even to call it that ) is that they would be alone, without anyone to guard them. While she knows he is skilled with a sword and Vhagar is a deterrent in and of herself, there are still those who would be foolish to attempt something if they know the queen and the young prince are traveling alone β it would be a handsome ransom. It is risky, perhaps too risky.
She cannot remember the last time she went anywhere without the royal guard, and yet she can't stop herself from reveling in the thought of being utterly alone with him. )
While I am not as skilled or knowledgeable as you and your sibling are regarding dragons, I know your saddle is made for one. This means, whether for the trip to Oldtown or flying with you regularly, I would either need to sit in your lap, or you'd be pressed against the pommel with me behind you.
There is also the matter of my lack of proper riding β flying attire and being unaccustomed, as you said.
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It's not that small of a saddle, he would argue. She could fit it. For long durations, he hadn't thought about it in too much a detail. Nor would he seem to mind the thought of being pressed up against her for such a time. Though those thoughts are too strangled in his mind. It was a laborious idea, which is why he only meant to mention it to make a point among the lords. But one ride with her, at least. If not to Oldtown, perhaps somewhere closer.
Aemond's gaze falls and he swallows dry before speaking. ]
There is still time to accustom you. [ He notes as though it were a new suggestion. Playful, but so very subtle as though it got ahead of himself. He looks away briefly, chipping off a splinter of wood with his nail before flicking it away as he wets his lips. Recovering himself to speak more amicably. ]
We can still meet with her this afternoon, if you're not already engaged.
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But after that β what held his interest so? Was there anything other than Vhagar and flying? There were his studies and training, but that all felt like it pales compared to his newfound desire to get her to ride with him.
She remains silent for a long moment, noting his voice's playfulness and how he idly picks at the chair. In an idleness of her own, Alicen't fingers drum against the underside of the table. )
This afternoon and evening are free of engagements, ( she finally says. ) I thought to relax in the baths at some point, but that can wait until we return.
( Playfully, she bumps her leg against his before beginning to push herself away from the table. ) Suppose I should ready myself. Shall we meet there or arrive together?
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Her answer comes slow, but when it does Aemond's expression softens just so. As she moves, so does he. Brushing back his chair so that he may too rise to his feet.]
I don't mind waiting. [ He answers as he steps around his chair, hands smoothing and straightening his coat by it's bottom hem. Waiting beside to depart with her at last.
It's easier this way, nor is he in any particular rush to make it to the Dragonpit on this day. The attendance of the council and the preparations beforehand have uprooted whatever normalcy there was. Unnatural as it is, he doesn't seem to mind it. Nor would the prospect of more time spent together, as strange as it already were.]
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With him standing beside her, Alicent gently places her hand in the crook of his elbow, her fingers pressing into the fabric of his coat, sinking into the plush fabric. The thought of lingering here together dances in the forefront of her imagination, of him pressing her against the table, mouth hungry against hers, or even him sitting in the chair at the head of the table, kneeling between his legs, or sitting on his lap. But she does not allow the temptation to linger long, as they have plans to head to the Dragonpit, and with each passing second, they are losing light. )
If you are free and do not have business to attend, care to walk me to my chambers?
I will ready myself then meet you in the middle bailey, ( she starts, then looks up at him before adding, ) unless you wish to stay.
( There are a few places she knows she'll be able to find suitable riding ware, as she owns none. Preferably she would like to start the abandoned apartments of the princess as she likely left things behind for the rare occasion she visits before asking Helaena or Talya for assistance. )
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Aemond's hand pauses at the door to meet her look as she implies him to stay while she gets ready. Wavering on a thought most imprudent as he thinks of the way she'd looked as she shed her gown. A thought that is quickly brushed away.]
I don't mind. Though β [ He pauses, as though trying to filter through the right words. Trying to find something genteel among sullied ones. ] I am not sure that we may ever leave. If I stay.
[ Just a thought. Is that a good or bad thing either way? His tone implies nothing. It's not as though they don't have any other day to go.
A pause before Aemond resumes pulling the door open. Though no eyes are on them, nothing out of the ordinary in the way that a son may be escorting his mother, the prince's back straightens just slightly. Thrust back under the risk of eyes and ears as they step out into the hall. Though the presence scant in the corridor, the familiar buzzing of knights, lords, and servants echo up from the serpentine steps.]
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( Unlike how she acted when he was younger, her interest in meeting Vhagar and possibly flying with him will not wane, but she feels the sooner it happens, the better. To prepare herself if they fly to Oldtown or because she wishes to do more with him than slink around in the cover of night or whatever privacy they might find.
As the doors open, Alicent stands straighter as well. Happily smiling, nodding, and greeting those who pass as they make their way from the small council chamber to her apartments in Maegor's Holdfast.
This deep in the palace, they have more privacy than the halls or areas they walked, but with it still being day ( and even at night ), there is a chance that someone may overhear them. After a quick survey of the hall, Alicent leans in, looking up at him as her hand tightens on his arm. )
If you do not wish to stay, I will need no more than an hour to ready, and I will meet you at the carriage.
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He is better than this. He can wait. He can be abstinent. He can go long periods of time without thinking about trying to crush his mouth against hers against every available hard surface. Or wishing away his free will to allow her to simply command him through those doors instead. He can't let it consume him.
Carefully, Aemond's hand lifts to gather his mother's out from over the clasp along his arm. Peeling it away carefully, his thumb grazing along the tops of her fingers as he removes himself. Dismissing himself with a nod as he speaks. ]
I shall see you upon the hour, mother. [ There it is again, that little affection in his tone. If she had any doubt that he does wish to stay, it hides within the curls of his smile as he steps away. The encroaching footsteps echoing down the hall is what turns him away at last, his hands tucking themselves behind his back as he departs. Similarly to return to his own chambers to change and await for her as they had planned.]
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Sitting at her vanity, she begins combing through her hair and adds oils once she's done before braiding it over one shoulder ( with hopes that it will cover the mark he left on her neck should she be unable to find an outfit that will cover it ) and securing the end with a ribbon.
Satisfied with what she sees in the mirror, she pushes herself from her chair and is in the hall again, making her way to the abandoned apartments reserved for the princess and her family should they ever return. She pauses before the door, hand on the handle. There is an ache in her chest as she longs for the woman she once called friend, but she pushes those emotions aside and enters the chambers.
After closing the door, she immediately heads towards the trunks she knew the princess once used to store her riding gear. She expects it to be empty but is pleasantly surprised to find some still there. With haste, she begins pulling her dress off, the stays and shift beneath before pulling on the clothes she found in the trunk.
Unfortunately, the clothes within the drunk aren't the shades of green she typically wears, but she can settle for the blacks and reds of House Targaryen (the colors she once wore ). First, she pulls on the crimson shirt, then the black breeches that she tucks the shirt. Next comes the dark grey surcoat with dragon scales upon the shoulders, around the neck, and along the forearms, with silver fastenings along the chest and a belt around her waist. Grabbing the gloves from the box, she slips her shoes on, grabs her clothes, and heads back to her chambers, where she tosses her clothes over the back of a chair and pulls on her own black riding boots.
With one last glance in the mirror, Alicent heads down to the middle bailey. Head high as he descends the stairs, she tucks the gloves into her belt, ignoring the looks as if she isn't dressed for riding and is no longer clad in green.
Once in the bailey, she slips into the waiting carriage. )
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Slowly, the prince's head turns to watch her as she sits. If not obviously lightly stunned to see her donning anything other than green. It's not as though he hasn't seen it before. With her hair braided it reminded him of old tapestries woven of her when she was a young queen. The shades of their house red and black blended to match with her copper hair.
It's very....unexpected of her. It's also very unexpected how much he likes seeing her in it. The prince smiles, fighting at the corners of his mouth as the door shuts as she settles. The carriage rocking into a gentle motion. He pulls his eyes off her a moment, composing himself with a dry swallow. ]
Is that my sisters? [He asks in both parts innocently curious and rakishly accusatory as he feigns his attention back out through the lattice.]
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Feeling a flush of embarrassment ( from his gaze and feeling out of place in the clothes ) threatening to spread over her cheeks and neck, she looks away, fixing her gaze on a spot on the wall where the shadows of the city filter through the latticed window. )
Rhaenyra's. I did not wish to bother Helaena and the children. ( If she had more time to prepare, she would have had her own riding clothes made, but as all of this has been rather spontaneous, she has resorted to rummaging through old chests to find this. Her hands smooth over the leather breeches, happy they fit as she has remained as slender and graceful as before having children β this has made borrowing her former friend's and stepdaughter's clothes easier. )
Once we return, I should speak with Talya to have my own made.
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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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