#dh!aemond

The slow easing of your presence in Aemond’s life had been a relief washing over Alicent, every day a little more. She’d fear her son would battle, not that it was in his habit, he was more of a quiet rebel himself, but the news of his betrothing has shut Aemond off completely. Alicent had not being used to her favourite son’s ignoring. But seeing the two of you slowly coming to an understanding, acceptance of each other, dare she say, a quiet friendship, had been more than what the queen regent had even hoped for. 

Aemond had known you were beautiful. It was something required of women marrying into royalty (or so Aegon told him). Aemond had thought you would be insipid and dull, because one could not be beautiful AND bright, that was not right. What a shock he felt when he first had a conversation with you. You seem to be interested by everything he was too. Then again, a perfect, royal, wife would too. Lies, his mother had once told him, where one of the few weapons a woman could wield. But every time he met you, he seemed to be captivate by your being just a little more. 

And Vaghar also. 

The old dragon sharing his mind appreciated the soft, but very real confidence you exulted. The delicacy of your movements and the sharpness of your reflexions. If Vaghar approved of you, maybe your weren’t all that bad… 

Aemond found himself taking your thoughts into consideration whilst doing… anything, really. All of his actions where made with, for sole design, to get approval from you, in any shape, words or form he could get. He would spend more time around you, between his duties and studies and practices, all of his free time was spent with you. And when he was, however, busy and you walked passed him, his attention diverted towards you. 

“Charge!” Ser Criston’s voice echoed in the courtyard, leading Aemond and the soldier he was practicing on, slam into each other, metal colliding with metal. 

Sword in hand, sweat rolling down his back from the exercice, the prince used the new tactic he’d read about to flatten his ‘enemy’ to the ground. He’d placed no importance to the sounds of feet walking around him, the courtyard had always been open to people of the court, lord and ladies, help or family alike. It was the gasp and the chiding following it that made the prince look up in the direction of the sound. One of your ladies had lowered her head and you seemed to be rolling your eyes at something she (or another) had said, when you eyes met his. 

Aemond had always pride himself over his emotional control. The volcanic irruption and the tsunami of (seemingly) falling organs into his lower belly once you smiled at him shook his perception of control. His chest puffed of its own volition, leathery wings coming out of nowhere, extended, to show… what exactly? 

His pride? His talent? 

“My lady.” He greeted, letting the air he had been holding, out as he spoke. 

“My prince.” You greeted back, bowing your head slightly. A brooch Aemond had gotten you shone under the sun when your head came back up to its original place. You’d place the little ruby dragon on your shoulder, to help your cloak still. Vaghar purred with appreciation into his mind at the sight. 

Aemond left the soldier he was fighting up until then on the ground, walking closer to you. 

“How may I be of service?” His question made his cringe back internally. He was a prince, what service could he possibly provide himself. How stupid a question that was. 

Your smile, however, didn’t falter. 

“I am to have tea with your sister, this afternoon. And couldn’t decide on what present I should offer her.” A small pout moved your lips and Aemond had to restrain himself so to not raise his hand and caress them. 

“I’m sure whichever present my sister receives from you would bring great pleasure to her.” This made you flush, and Aemond sense the corner of his lips twitch upward. 

The compliment implied in his comment had reach the desired effect, and the subtil proof of the importance of his vision on even such trivial matter ad for you made his insanely pleased. A gust of wind, harsh, and strong, made you stumble. Hair pushed forward onto your face. Aemond reflexively caught your arm, one hand coming to brush the hair away from your face at the same time. 

“Prince Aemond.” Called a voice, Aemond didn’t care whose it was, quite frankly. He waved his hand, effectively shutting the speaker up. 

When you tried to look at who was speaking looking away from him, darkening the day, Aemond shifted with you. His wings extending again to block you view of the affronting speaker. He would always do anything to keep your gaze on him. Your attention was like oxygen. Your eyes settled on his face once more and to Aemond, it felt like the sun started to shine again. 

“A present wouldn’t even be needed, my lady.” He assured you quietly. His arms was still holding yours, but the hand on your face had dropped now.  His comment made you chuckle.

“Helaena’s just had a babe. I feel I should bring something to show how happy I am for her.” 

A smile softened Aemond’s face and he shifted his weight from one feet to the other. “What are your choices of presents?” 

You mirrored his smile, a gleam shining in your eyes. “I have a little bug that I have delivered from Essos. I know Lady Helaena likes bugs. But I also had made a shawl…” 

“Prince Aemond.” Came the voice again. This time Aemond turned toward the voice, a frown etched to his face. Ser Criston lowered his gaze, taking a step back. The living through the ire of the prince was not worth the precious minutes of peace the soldiers had while he was engrossed in his conversation with you. 

Aemond turned his attention to you, once more. He would rather help you through every little problem you could experience. 

It pleased Alicent, to see her second son open himself to the world. Watching him play with Helaena’s twins warmed her heart more than she could ever explained outwardly. But seeing Aemond take glimpse toward where you and his sister were sitting, the little newborn, Maelor, in your arms, seeing the warmth that overtook his gaze was the highlight of Alicent’s day. The knowledge that at least one of her children would experience happiness in his marriage was a comforting thought. 

Jaehaera was placing flowers into his hair. Aemond had never before worn flower in his hair. But the smile on his niece’s face had made Vaghar melt so much that he’d been force by the dragon spirit for sit down, in the dirt. Jaehaerys had undertaken to find the most gruesome bugs he could manage to capture, and beamed with pride every time Aemond agreed it was a most peculiar little creature. 

Aemond had never been quite fond of children. They were always sticky and blubbering and leaking. He wasn’t against them, and he loved his nephew and niece. Vaghar loved kids, which made the matter easier to ignore his dislike of the sticky. And all of this was worth seeing your smile as the children happily showed you (and his sister) their work and findings. 

“Jaehaera, darling, I believe your uncle as no more space for anymore…” You chuckled, waving the little girl away from him, and towards you instead. You’d left Maelor to Helaena, walking to his niece and taking her into your arms. “How would you like to decorate my hair next?” 

You sent a smile to Aemond, which he responded to in kind. The necklace he’d gotten you the week before glimmering under the sunlight, making pretty pictures of coloured shadows on your skin. A purr rumbled through the prince’s chest, pride swelling inside of him, like fire in his veins. 

taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Aegon: 

There’s a softness in him that nobody else but you can see. Sharing a warm bath, the chirping of birds as only sound breaking the silence. You were currently admiring Aegon's peaceful traits. His head leaned back, resting back against the bath, eyes closed to take as much advantage of the calm as he could. The lines of stress that usually creased his forehead were gone, the frown of his perpetual pompous air left its place to the soft and natural smiley position of his lips. One of your fingers, that until then had been busied drawing nonsensical forms on his chest, made it's way up to the corner of his lips, to trace them. 

Aegon opened an eye. “Careful, my love, your gaze will make me melt at this rate,” he teased in a hoarse whisper. His hand coming to hold yours and he pressed a kiss to your fingers. 

“I cannot melt what is already made of fire.” You sputtered, lowering your gaze to his chest, startled by the intensity of his gaze. You'd tried to make your tone teasing, as his was, but the fatlering of your voice had you wince a little. Aegon simply hummed a breathless chuckle, adjusting himself under you, hips grazing your behind momentarily.

“Admit it, you wanted to touch me.” And seeing as you started to shake your head, trying to deny his playful accusation, Aegon placed a soft hand to your cheek, now looking down at you. “That’s alright. I cannot fault you for it.” 

Aemond: 

“I can feel your gaze, Qelos.” He was sitting at the very front of his cushion seat, a heavy and dusty volume sat on his knee, a position he’d held for hours now. You’d abandoned your own activity to look at the man’s form, appreciating him. Aemond had tolerated it for a while, but after half an hour had passed and he could still see your body half turned to him, the dragon hybrid couldn’t resist teasing you about it anymore. His purple irises rose to meet your. 

“Can’t I just admire you?” You asked. Not teasing, it was an earnest question, and somehow, that took Aemond by surprise even more. And when your eyes trailed his figure, as if to prove your point, the man nearly broke.

A heat overtook him, creeping it’s tingling fingers on the back of his neck, burning a path to his face and down his spine. The book on his knees nearly tumbled down, shaken by the jolt echoing through his body. Aemond closed it, a sharp thud breaking the flustered silence that had overtaken the room. 

“You’re speaking nonsense.” The prince managed to say, his gaze hardening, as if it would distract you from the flush of his cheeks. Your lips curled into a smile and his own raised to mirror your expression, on a smaller scale. 

“I would argue that it makes perfect sense, my prince.” You rose from your seat to instead kneel in front of Aemond, removing the book from his laps and letting your hand take place on him instead. Your eyes met his, nothing but love in them as you spoke. Aemond swallowed harshly, hands coming to rest upon yours, his eye roaming your face, unsure, but not unpleased by your words. 

You could still see the dark scale that started to cover his jaw, his embarassment very visible now.

Baela:

“Such a high praise it is, my Rider, to have your eyes follow me as I train.” Baela’s words were loud, teasing you publicly as she’d caught you looking at her flying. Her wings still strained against the wind, hands on her hips. The help working in proximity all looked at you both, in turns, stilling for a moment. You groaned, running a hand to your face.

“Baela…” But your concerns went unheard as Baela walked up to you, large grin breaking her usual stern but lovely face, wind-wiped cheeks darker than usual. 

“Did the sight please you? Was my spectacle worthy?” The princess took one of your hands in hers, eyes shining as she asked. The other rested against your hip, were her mark seemed to warm up, spreading a comforting heat throught your body. You had always enjoyed watching her fly, and the figures she’d manage today, you gathered now, had been to show off to you. A wave of embarrassment crawled up your spine, tingling to the base of your neck. 

“You know it always does.” You muttered, making Baela laugh out loud, her head thrown back, throat exposed. She rarely let herself go this much in public. You smiled, eyes taking in the sight of her now, too. “You’re always perfect.”

Baela wings fluttered behind her, and brought your hand to her lips, kissing your fingers softly. “I’m glad, then.” 

Daemon:

He caught you by surprise, a grin carving his face, and the glint in his eyes made your stomach drop. He looked like a predator having found his prey, stalking closer to you softly, purposefully. 

“See something you liked, Azantys?” His deep tone send shivers down your spine, but you cannot bring yourself to lower your gaze from his face. 

“Maybe I have.” You answered him softly, your hands coming to fumble with a piece of your outfit nervously. You monitor his movement, watching him creep closer to you until his chest nearly touches yours. 

It’s like a battle happening, quietly as you study each other’s gaze, his smirk getting bigger with each seconds. “Have you? Pray tell, what.” He purred, one hand coming to the small of your back to press you closer to him. You could feel the warmth of his body seeping through his to you, and you weren’t sure if what you were feeling was embarrassment or it was just… him. 

A chuckle left Daemon as you lowered your head to hid your face against his shoulder, yet, it didn’t deter him from teasing you further. “Now, Azantys, you have to say. I want to share your likings, how mean of you to keep them from me.” The rumble of his voice made your heart spike up. 

Helaena:

“Is their something you wished to talk about?” Helaena asked softly, raising her head to look at you. 

For the first time in weeks the princess had time to be alone (or as alone a princess could be) to do whatever she please. No meetings to hold, no party to attend, no children to keep, no mother to entertain. Only her, her embroidery and you, to keep Helaena company. 

At the sound of her voice, and once her gaze met yours, you jolted, sitting straight in your chair. ‘’No, my lady. I was simply admiring your work.’’ 

You hadn't strike to fluster the princess, but you achieved it nonetheless. Her pale skin flushed, from the part of her neck that wasn't covered in grey-ish-blue scale to the tip of her ears, in a pinkish hue. ‘’You flatter me.’’ She mumbled, raising her legs to tuck them underneath her, a childish habit she still hadn’t got rid of, no matter how hard her mother had tried to train her into forgetting  it. You smiled. 

‘’It’s the truth.’’ You shrugged. The new colours on the princess’ skin gave you an odd sens of pride. But your words proved to be the wrong one to bring back calmness within Helaena’s demeanor, as her blush darkened and she hid her face with the curtain of her hair. 

Jacaerys:

He’d done nothing particular, and yet, found you looking at him with enamoured eyes, a daze expression and a soft smile on your face, as he came back in your quarters, all sweaty from his sword practice. 

‘’Have I done something, my Crown?’’ His expression mirrored yours, as a smile bloomed on his face, raising an arm to remove the layer of sweat from his brows, raising one quizzically, trying to get an answer out of you. 

‘’I find that you have nothing to do more than be yourself for me to be in awe, my prince.’’

You never called him your prince, except when you wanted to rile him up, or tease him a little. His lips curled into a full smile now. He got closer to you, gently, measuring his movement not to make you suspicious of anything, prefering to bid his time with a teasing banter.

‘’Do you, now. Such luck I have to be married to such a loving mate.’’ He purred, stalking closer to you before wrapping his arms around your middle. 

‘’EW! Jace.’’ You complained automatically, felling his drenched body press into you, the sulfur scent of his sweat now sticking to your clothes. Pushing him away didn’t work as he stayed encroached to you like a monkey to a branch. 

‘’I thought you loved me as myself?’’ He pouted, rubbing his face to your neck, making you groan. 

Laenor: 

‘’You’re not listening.’’ Laenor accused, laughing. The ship that held you both was still docked, because Laenor had been adamant in showing you how to knot properly, which his father had thought you both when you were younger, but who were you to refuse you lover of spending time with you?

‘’I was!’’ You countered loudly, punching his shoulder, weakly, but still driving your frustration of his teasing across. 

‘’No, you’re not, you’re just looking at me with big, dreamy eyes, and drooling.’’ He scoffed, tone playful, rubbing his own chin as if to mimic your supposed drooling. And you knew for a fact that you had never drooled in your life, not even for him. 

But you pass a hand under your chin anyway, for good measure. ‘’I don’t drool.’’ You muttered, lowering your face toward the rope Laenor and you shared to practice your knotting, already working the one he was showing you, intending to prove Laenor wrong. But a finger under your chin stopped you, forcing you to look up at the smiling man once more. 

‘’Whatever you say, Nūmio.’’ He smiled and leaned closer to kiss your lips softly, for a short moment. ‘’I find it endearing.’’ He whispered against your lips. 

The words : ''You're terrible.'' Came out as a huff, mumbled against Laenor's lips also. And it made him preen harder, leaning against you completly now, the little crest of scale and nerves potruding from his jaws now extending with pride.

Rhaena:

‘’You’ll do marvellously well.’’ You repeated to Rhaena as she was pacing the room nervously, wrenching her hands with every breath. 

‘’You don’t know that. Maybe they’ll rescind their protection. Maybe my offer won’t be enough to keep us here.’’ She denied, shaking her head, walking back to you. She was paler than usual, and you knew that this meeting would prove essential to keep Rhaenyra’s youngest children safe until you could find a way to go to Pentos undetected. 

You ran your hands over her arms, up her shoulders until you reached her neck, thumbs caressing her jaw softly. ‘’You will do just fine. They are our allies. Why would they not agree to offer us protection?’’ You ressoned with her, eyes scanning her face. Even in the depth of nervousness, she was the prettiest sight your eyes had ever landed on. 

‘’Don’t look at me like that.’’ Rhaena murmured, her hands coming to cover yours, eyes casting downward now. 

‘’Like what?’’ Innocent enough, but you wanted her to say it, she always tried to deflect how you saw her, and now, now, you knew she needed to feel loved and supported more than anything. 

‘’I don’t know. Like I hung the moon or something…’’ She whispered, ducking her head to lean her forehead against your shoulder. 

‘’You didn’t?’’ You exclaimed, faking surprise, which made her chuckle, and look up at you again. 

You’d accomplish your mission. 

Rhaenyra: 

‘’You look pretty, my lady.’’ You told her, wrapping an arm around her middle, supporting her very pregnant belly. Legs on each side of her tail, you were glad that her wings were not out as they were earlier today.

Rhaenyra had been on her feet for most of the day, going about war strategy and plotting letters for her allies. Today was the first time since the morning that you actually were in the same room as her, and you would use this to your advantage. 

‘’I am the size of a ship, wearing the most boring dress of mine and my hair is a mess, Beloved. Do not lie to me.’’ She complained, ordered your softly, letting her head fall to your shoulder as you took some of the weight of the baby growing inside of her, 

‘’I wouldn’t dare lie, Nyra. Your’re always pretty. I just wanted to make sure someone told you today.’’ You hummed, kissing her shoulder. The mirror reflected you both, letting Rhaenyra see your face even if her back was pressed to your chest. 

She chuckled, kissing the side of your face. ‘’You’re the first one to tell me. Thank you.’’ 

You smiled at her, looking in the mirror to catch her eyes. ‘’You are most welcome.’’ 

taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Aegon would instinctively rub himself all over his lover without a care in the world, having you sat underneath him on your shared bed. Wings wrapped around you like a cocoon and little chirps leaving his throat as he’s unable to otherwise communicate what relief and pleasure the simple act of scenting you brings him. You’ve known him long enough not to ask about this sudden bout of physical touch need he was fulfilling now, preferring to let Aegon get his fill. Questioning him usually made him mad, and he would retreat into a grumpy silence you didn't care to entertain most nights. And Aegon is only too please to have you so pliant under him as you let him have his fun. He would never admit that he likes th subtil whiff of his smoky, sulfuric smell tangled with yours, and sweetened by the oils you use to bath. That’s a secret he’ll bring in death with him.

Aemond is more sneaky about it. He’ll leave his hand on your shoulder or back, have you were his cape when he deems it too cold (he doesn’t even need a bloody cape!!) He also uses sex as ha way to feed his need of scenting you so as to not have to answer questions he cannot give intelligent and thought off explanations. However he’ll have you, you can be sure that Aemond’s nose will be nuzzling your neck sometime or another, his body pressed so close you thing he wants you to merge with him, truly become one. The scales of his skin leaving visible indentations onto your skin when your both done. And Aemond relishes on his scent, like a lit incense, that follows you around for the day afterward, mixing with the other scent that makes you, well, you.

Baela is confident enough in herself and your relationship that she would not hide the scenting. Sure, she would keep it to a minimum around others, but she wouldn’t keep you in the dark about it either. Having you wear one of her scales, rubbing her hands on your body, covered or not, letting the burnt rosewood that was her smell seep into you, mixing with the more unique smell of you. Maybe she would have you wear one of her (numerous) ribbons, somewhere on your person, just because she likes having a visual reminder of her ownership (that’s a dirty word, but is nonetheless true) of you. And she dislikes leaving traces of your intimity for others to see. The burnt marks of her hands in your skin is a reminder enough of how fragiles humans are, and what physical/visual marks can spur on.

Daemon would be very quiet about scenting. Not letting you know exactly why he keeps touching your neck and wrists and ankles. But he would get mad if you dodge him, or worse, wash his scent off. It would take, I imagine, some time before he’s comfortable enough with you to explain (a bit) about scenting. His touches would also become more affectionate, less hidden. Mornings where Daemon would let his hands caress your body, waking you up gently until you’re all but drunk off of him. Having you writhing with pleasure, lust or not, simply because he can and he wants to. Scenting, to Daemon, is the hicky of royalty. People get thrown off by something, they don’t quite know what, but he does, and most importantly, you do too. Daemon would never admit to liking the mix of his burnt-meat-smell with yours… Caraxes is more talkative about it then him.

Helaena scents you very rarely. She scents her children more than she does you, which, to a point, is understandable. The insulting part is that you’re with her more than her children. Helaena was not taught the dragon ways, and Alicent didn’t encourage the scenting between her children either, even if it’s a formative part of packbounding and childhood in dragon hybrids. Helaena tends to scent you when she gets overwhelmed by something. Too many people, a stressful moment, after a tea with her mother. It’s her hand placed in the crook of your arm, a brush of her hair tangling with your own, or your clothes. She does it in all settings of her life, private or more public (or as public as Helaena goes, anyways.) the smell of burned grass mingled with the smell she associated with you calming her more than any potions the maesters had ever given her. That’s usually when Dreamfyre takes over her mind to sooth them both.

Jacaerys likes having you smell like him, like too-warm sand on a too-hot day. He likes having you touching him in any way, shape and form possible. He doesn’t really shy away from scenting you when people are around, even if he tries to stay princely around strangers or in official meetings. But could you really blame him? If he doesn’t scent you, then he has to contain Vermax (more than usual), and appear normal when doing it, and he’s expected to be alert, too. So he just… scent you, whenever the urge takes him. In the garden after playing with his siblings? Done. While lazing around in bed? Easy. Because some lord of a small house looked at you just a bit weirdly for a bit too long? Bet. Jacaerys is proud of his dragon traits and won’t shy away from it, so what makes some people weirded out? They just have to avert their gaze when they see his arms encircle you.

Laenor is more discreet about it. Sure, he’ll rub himself like a cat on you in private, but there are apparences to uphold, unfortunately. Laenor cannot scent you whenever he pleases, and this is his tragedy. It does not deter him from giving you presents! Clothes (his), and congratulations!! You now share a perfume. Something akin to encens and the sea air that he’s so fond of, and mixing to you, Leanor would roll in it himself if he could. Seasmoke is particularly proud when you wear a piece of his clothing in public, and Laenor has to reign them in so as not to smother you in affection. But Rhaenyra could tell you about Laenor’s micro expressions that he cannot hide well. The little tremor in his hands when you walk past, the way his eyes search for you in the sea of people when your intermingled scent floats to him. How his scaly tail raises to alertness when he recognizes a familiar shirt on your shoulders.

Rhaena would like to scent you, but lacks the instinct to need it. She knows that not scenting you should bother her, is bothering her, but she cannot bring herself to do it, as it brings her no satisfaction. The urge of having you be hers completely in the most innocent and intimate way cannot be filled. Her nose cannot pick up on the scent that should be hers on you. It’s a subject she is not willing to bring with you, or anyone else, for that matter. At least not for a long time. What you don’t know won't hurt you, and gods know how hurt you become in knowing her to be unfulfilled.

Rhaenyra is unbothered in scenting you outrageously. Younger, she would make a small show of pressing herself against your body, making people’s gaze falter from you, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips as Syrax’s purrs echoed in her mind and out of her throat. The heavy smell of melted metal soaking up your skin and clothes, not that you notice, anyway. As she grew, Rhaenyra found that she didn’t need to express her possessivity so harshly. You were hers completely, without a doubt or the shadow of reticence. Yet, having you prowl around smelling both as yourself and her made the dragon spirit sharing her mind preen harder than anything else. Clothes were now kept with hers, in the same chest, washed with the same care, by the same hands. Individuality of bath time now non-existent after all those years, but if it kept your queen smiling, who were you to refuse her?

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Smiling, shining you, talking to somebody he cared not to learn about, completely oblivious to the work he was doing to show you just how perfect a mate he could be. How fierce he could project and defend you. No. Instead you were being polite (he knew how to read your smiles by now) to someone who clearly didn’t get the message. Or was foolish enough to think they could take you away from him. 

Aemond knew you would never betray him in such a way. Either because your affection for him was true (he still wasn’t wholly sold on that one) or because you could only gain from your relations with him, tarnishing your name would not be a good thing for you, or your family. No, Aemond was not scared of your betrayal so much as he angered against the person stealing your attention away from him. 

A growl pushed passed his lips, teeth elongating to become fangs. He could feel his usual control over the shift to Vaghar’s for slipping away from him, letting dark scales creep up the skin of his neck and slowly covering his lower jaw. 

How would the taste of this person’s blood on his tongue would be sweet, he could only imagine. The sword in his hands started to sizzled under his grip. Aemond would toy wit them, before ending it. Make them know how the extend of his wrath for taking something that wasn’t theirs. Taking something of his away from him. 

“Prince Aemond?” 

Ser Criston’s voice took the prince from his dark thoughts, bringing him back to the reality, standing once more in the courtyard, a now bent sword between his hands. 

“From the start.” The one-eyed prince requested, placing himself in a offensive stance. He could always terrorize the stealer of his Quelos’ attention later. 

Jacaerys:

“Jewel…” He whined into your neck for the second time in five minutes, his arms wrapped around your middle, like a youngling to it’s mother. Behind him, his tail was slithering around, only sign of his profound annoyance toward the current situation. 

“A moment.” You pleaded quietly, once again, as his younger half-sibling showed you yet another of their (quite boring) toys. Jace swallowed another whine. 

His day, the only one as of yet where he could get out of his duties and studies early, had not ended as he wanted it. You had spent your free time entertaining his younger siblings, and showed no regret in making him wait. Not that he had much planned, anyway. But he wanted to feel your arms around him, your lips against his, your body close to his. Alone. 

“Jewel, the nursemaid can take over…” He pleaded softly again, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck in an attempt to encourage you to follow him. 

‘The hatchlings should be removed.’ Came the angry snarl of Vermax in Jace’s mind. The warmth of envy was coming to a slight simmer inside of his chest, as he pushed Vermax’s thoughts away. There was no (logical) competition between Jace and his younger siblings. They didn’t know better than to want your attention. And he couldn’t blame them for it. Logically. But Vermax did not usually take logic into consideration when it concerned his mate, only instincts were considered for that matter. 

Behind him, his tail had taken a mind of it’s own, going from right to left and curling in between the movements. Jacaerys felt you lean against his chest more and realised that the growl he thought controlling, was actually escaping quietly from his throat. 

“Five more minutes.” You pleaded, your eyes looking into his with a shine that Jace could not resist, accepting defeat, he leaned his chin against your shoulder once more, finding contempt in having you in his arms. 

At least for five more minutes. 

Laenor:

Laenor prided himself at his lack of jealousy.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. But the truth was that he had no control, whatsoever on Seasmoke’s control of their emotions. So, Laenor himself was quite mellow when it came to you and other people, but Seasmoke was a creature of greed. And Laenor was not in the habits to share, either. 

He had explicit confidence in you and your loyalty to him. Never would you act against him and his emotions, breaking truth and heart in the same beat. He would’ve never left his mark on you otherwise. But the fact that his political marriage had swept your existence has his partner to non-existent led people to believe that you were open to claims. And that, to Seasmoke, was unacceptable. 

And so you found yourselves in a position such as this; one of his hands wrapped around your neck, keeping you still whilst he let himself plunged into your warmth. His other hand mapping your body as if he were an explorator surveilling new territory. His teeth grazes the the skin his hand didn’t cover, coloring it with purple bruises that you would have difficulties hiding. 

“Not to high!” You panted, fingers tugging at his hair, trying to pull him away, bring his attention somewhere else for even a second. “People will see-” A gasp interrupted your sentence as Laenor bucked deeper into you, finding the spot that usually made you loose your mind. 

“I don’t care.” He growled in response, leaving your neck to devour your lips now. Maybe they’ll learn to to undress you with their eyes if they see the marks I leave on you.” His tone was smug.

No, Laenor was not jealous. But he made no effort to correct Seasmoke thinking when you were concerned. 

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Having his back facing you left you the liberty to roll your eyes, but your tone didn’t betray the annoyance his antics made you feel. A smile graced your face the second Aemond turned to you.

“Have we not two knights positions at the end of each halls, my love?” Your question is rehearsed, polished. Not too accusatory, or mocking. A light curiosity, at most. “It would be foolish for anyone to try anything, would it not?”

A quiet, crooked, smile curved the prince lips for a fraction of seconds before disappearing. The hand that was not holding on to the holt of his sword came to the small of your back, guiding you through the hallway the both of your where walking. “We can never be too prudent, Qēlos.”

“I admire your forethinking.” Which was the truth, and said with earnest.

“Thank you.” He answered with a genuine smile, and the faintest trace of a blush over his cheeks as he ran his thumb softly over the bone of your hip.

As annoying as his over-vigilance was, you couldn’t -in good conscience- blame Aemond for it. Tensions were rising between allies of his family, and those of his half-sister, fast ever since their father’s death. And Helaena, always her younger brother’s favourite, had had a series of worrying dreams the past few weeks, and Aemond, contrary to Aegon, had put a little bit more effort and energy into reassuring his sister.

“I’ve arranged for a knight to be around whenever I cannot.” Your prince started quietly, raising his cape to shield you both from the outside wind as you exited to the gardens. “And I should like for you to carry a dagger at all times.”

His voice was low, barely noticeable because of the wind, but the way he leaned into you, just so, still proper and full of decorum, but the warmth you felt coming from him made you smile.

“Have you so little faith in your own soldiers?” You asked teasingly, stopping your walk and lightly tugging at Aemond’s sleeve to make it turn towards you.

“When it comes to you, I do.” He answered solemnly, turning to meet your gaze, the glimmer of something close to adoration burning in his purple irises, making your breath catch in your throat.

Averting your eyes to survey the gardens, trying to keep your composure at the sudden closeness between the two of you. Aemond was rather private about your private life, so having him close enough to feel his breath on your face, in public, was a rare thing.

“What a silly thing to say.” You muttered in a whisper, to try and hide how flustered his proximity made you.

That made Aemond chuckle, another rare sight. And he took one of his hands to the inside of his cape, rummaging through it for a moment before taking out a beautifully carved dagger, and a beautifully crafted sheet for it.

The hilt was made out of some kind of opal, and a sleeping dragon was carved in the gem, the blade itself (once Aemond prompted you to unsheet it) was sharp, and curved like a moving snake. Gold engravings embellished the blade with designs of your house’s sigil and his. Your names had been engraved also, claiming the dagger as your possession.

“It’s beautiful.”

A purr escaped Aemond at your words, something he clearly had wished to control, with how his cheeks pinked. “You deserve much more.”

A shy chuckle passed your lips, and you raised a hand to your prince’s cheek. “I already have more than enough.” And you pressed a kiss, barely a kiss, a peck, to his lips.

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