𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖋 𝕬𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖘 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝕽𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘
𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 "𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘌𝘺𝘦" 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘐𝘷𝘢𝘳 "𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴" 𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯
(𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘱, 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵)
Alone. That was their rhythm, an unspoken dance played out time and time again. Locked in their silent battle within the walls of a war room, languishly batting the other, only proceeding to focus on their enemies after this melody had passed.
The wolf of Kattegat was no stranger to the simmering jealousy Aemond barely kept in check, the resentment beneath his polished restraint. Quite the ire of the dragon within him. And Ivar found it downright comedic. He wanted to savor it on his tongue, drink in Aemond’s fury and snuff out the flames. Which would only piss the prissy dragon, had he voiced.
"And yet, here you are, watching" Ivar crooned the last bit, amusement flickering in his icy colored blues. He pulled himself forward with practiced ease or at least that's how it appeared to the unsuspecting, bracing against the weight of iron. Rather than sitting, he chose to linger above Aemond. Ivar's fingers curled beneath Aemond’s chin, lifting it just enough to scrutinize with a glint, "Must I always do what, dear Aemond?"
Ivar had long noticed the way Aemond preened under his touch though the ivory prince would never admit. It was almost pathetic, the way Aemond masked his hunger for a tad of validation, keeping it tucked beneath his stiff demeanor. Trading swords, making it sing, was a normal activity, but even then, Aemond reacted like a cat, secretly soothed by the fleeting moments of bloodlust contact they blew. It should have been strange to Ivar, even off putting, the way Aemond responded in those flashes.
A man so unyielding, should not welcome another’s touch, especially hands laced of vice. And yet, Aemond absorbed such a touch like home. Granted, these occurrences slipped by the second, unworthy of too much thought.
Ivar had never been one to deliberately indulge him, not like today. No, these occasions were few and far between. Grinning as the Cheshire, Ivar watched as Aemond jerked his head free - slight hesitation prior. Then reclaiming his seat, fixing himself back into place like a doll.
"Alright, what of it? You realize the banter are just ploys" His voice containing feigned innocence as he wore a sharp smirk. Ivar's gaze bore down Aemond's, still looming over him, "Either I'm missing a detail or you're acting like a septa, to think I'd be eager by any of those numbskulls", he nonchalantly dismissed Aemond's rattled yet ebbed tone concerning Ivar's whispers of the ear to a select few in the council.
"Secrets are dangerous, no matter how small"? Ah, as if I hadn't know! Is that your angle here? No no… Can't be. You've got something heavier on your chest. What's got you oh so wound up?"
Ivar smirked, shifting in closer, hovering just above the crown of Aemond's silvered hair. He positioned himself deliberately to the side, cutting the invisible cord of their shared stare, forcing Aemond to crane his neck if he wanted to meet his gaze again. Then, in a slight of a hand, Ivar's gloved fingers threaded idly through a few strands of that pristine ivory. As if Aemond was really the doll he propped himself as.
"Now, tell me, are you accusing me of toying with a few in a not so seemingly way, princeling?"
Ivar couldn't shake the feeling that Aemond actually enjoyed these uncommon, isolated spectacles. Save for the muted coveting he pretended not to behave like.
