*  ―     𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 

@kipagircs sent ; [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body ( for Aemond )

aemond seldom let anyone close enough to touch him, let alone the scar that graced his face. lucerys, who had been the cause of such pain, was the last person he had ever intended to allow close enough to him ever again, but things had . . . changed between them as of late. a change that aemond did not quite know how to describe aloud should it be asked of him, but the mere thought and presence of lucerys made his heart beat wildly against his ribcage.

something his heart does now as lucerys' fingers traced featherlight over the scar across the sapphire in place of his lost eye. his remaining eye fluttered shut as he relaxed further into the bed and pillow beneath them, savouring the feeling of lucerys' fingers against his skin, against the very thing lucerys' had taken from him so many years ago. it was strange that hands that caused him such pain now gave him such comfort.

the air inside the castle walls is stifling, cutting off the breath in his chest.  perhaps it is the endless talk of war, drenching addam with gloom like a giant storm cloud as big and maddening to defeat as vhagar, but he longs to be outside. where he can see the water. where he could mount seasmoke and lunge for freedom, if only he wished it.

he doesn't.  not just yet, not when he can see @kipagircs storm outside the council room. brows furrowed in silent concern, addam remains steadfast and obedient until he is dismissed, only interminable moments later.

'' luke, ''   addam calls for him, undaunted, only remembering belatedly that he should address lucerys by his title, if only in public, where keen ears abound.  he should, but his name is too sweet on the tongue.   '' slow down, will you. ''   half hearted, the tilt of a smile showing on his lips despite it all. addam kills the distance between them with a few more strides, fingers circling luke's wrist more to be on the same pace with him than to halt his steps altogether.

'' let's leave here. come with me to the beach. ''

Aemond scoffs. "There is always something on my mind. I actually use mine."

a few moments of peace before they are meant to be carried off to battle.   something of a habit the young dragon riders have seamlessly developed along the years.  addam is glad for it,  for the feel of @kipagircs's warm skin on his own,  the grip of his hand sure and unmistakable and then his lips,  as gentle as a drizzle,  touching the back of addam's hand,  grazing his knuckles.  he has come to expect it before each battle,  this blessed respite they have carved out for themselves and while the gesture might differ,  the sentiment behind it never does. good luck.  come back safe and whole.  don't you fucking die out there.  words could not quite suffice,  they needed it conveyed by touch,  skin on skin,  the thrum of blood just beneath.

@kipagircs sent ; “But you’re falsely accused, I have a chance to prove that, I must take that chance…” ( for Aemond, maybe about the accusation that he deliberately tried to kill Luke? ) x.

"why would you do such a thing?" aemond hated the uncertainty in his voice and the way he could not look at lucerys without feeling as if he had never left that night. the memory of how lucerys clutched his hand so tightly, hanging at vhagar's side until he could pull his nephew up into the saddle with him. it was only meant to frighten his nephew, but instead, he nearly became a kinslayer in place of it. "i almost . . . why would you bother to refute what everyone else believes to be the truth?"

@kipagircs sent ; you make me happy. that's all that matters. ( for Cregan ) x.

that's all that matters; how could it be? how could it be enough for one of them but not both of them? "i want to do more than just make you happy," cregan admitted defeatedly before silence settled between them once more. only the cracking of wood in the fireplace within cregan's room remained, and with each sizzle and pop, the wolf of winterfell felt his despair only grow.

it was foolish of him to believe they could have more than these secret meetings, the shared passion between them. it was not the way of their world, and lucerys belonged in the south with his family on driftmark and dragonstone, not the cold north in cregan's arms, no matter how much the wolf wanted it to be as such. the words he wished to say do not come easy they catch in the back of his throat as if they wanted to choke him rather than free him of his thoughts just this once, leaving the silence between them to only grow.