The Godswood was a lovely sight, even with its early bloom and the dim overcast of the day.

But it wasn't enough to brighten Elaena's mottled mood. Her thoughts rippled off one another, and her panicked heart proved relentless as it encouraged her troubled mind.

Did he do it?

Did he truly do it? Was Cristine lying—she was—she wasn't—No—Fuck. Breathe. Stop.

Aemond seemed oblivious to her nagging thoughts, carrying on about his surprise with Keys to the Kingdom and furthering her suspicions.

"I'd hoped Morina's tribe would somehow connect to Armick," He raved, an intrigued grin etched across his face, "But I never would have imagined Waterlaker actually tethering their plots."

Elaena hummed in response.

"And to have them awaken Saraphine again... Wow..." His voice was nearly dazed, "I must admit, I'm disappointed with the ending... Not for the way the events unfolded, but for the fact they came to a close at all..."

Elaena tried desperately to delight in his adoration of the series finale, to share in his marveling as she'd dreamed of doing since he'd opened the first book...

But she couldn't. Her restless mind wouldn't allow her to.

Aemond is so casual, too casual, he's just talking like nothing just happened—Does he like her? Is he hiding how much he likes her?

Is her attire truly appealing to him? She's copying me, she is copying—What the fuck? He likes her—He doesn't—Why?

He took her flying—Oh, my Gods, no... He did—Fuck! He didn't! He wouldn't, he doesn't like her! He doesn't...

But what if he does? She said they talked of Old Valyria—He's fascinated with Old Valyrian history, with Valyrian blood... "It'll strengthen the family... keep our Valyrian blood pure."

Elaena stiffened at the old memory of his words, his devout, ambitious tone, even at such a young age... What if he did like her—

"Is something the matter?"

Her dull gaze snapped up to meet his, and her cheeks immediately flushed with heat. He tilted his head inquisitively, and her lips parted just as her throat dried.

Shit. Speak. Speak, say something...

"No." She replied quickly, swallowing stiffly at the high tone of her voice, "Why do you ask?"

Aemond blinked at her, the quirk of his lip indicating his disbelief in her contentment. She mustered a soft smile, tilting her head back at him.

He pursed his lips, "I don't know, you've been very quiet today."

Her heart skipped at his acute awareness, but she maintained the false smile, "Am I not always quiet?"

"No," He said easily, "At least not when we're talking about Waterlaker."

She tore her gaze away from him then, gritting her teeth subtly in building nerves. Samantha's voice rang in her mind, reminding her not to give in and show interest in Cristine's friendliness towards him—and thus her insecurity of it.

"What happened?" Aemond pressed, making her heart stutter under pressure, "And before you say nothing, I will admit I have been talking your head off this entire time and you've only acknowledged the Godswood as lovely... That is not normal."

His tone carried a jesting edge, but Elaena could distinguish concern in it as well.

Fuck—Fuck. Don't. Don't say anything. What if he does like her, what then? Do not be a nuisance, he may like who he likes, do not be jealous—

Her thoughts froze at the feel of his grip on her arm. She met his eye again, seeing his expression soft but expectant as he kept her from walking further.

"Something happened." He stated, and her heart thumped heavily in her chest.

Guilt slowly started to eat at her as she hated the idea of withholding from him... But Samantha's words continued to badger her. . . But his gaze was breaking down her defenses—

"You can tell me." He assured softly, and she felt his thumb rub against her arm before he withdrew his hand.

. . . You can tell him... Well, shit, you can tell him.

. . . How does he do that?

She sighed, feeling her tense shoulders relax in resolve, "Did you go riding with Cristine?"

Aemond's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his hands folding behind his back as he took in her question, "No."

She felt her heart stop at the simple word, and she blinked at him in perplexity. They held one another's gazes until his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

"To be frank, I didn't even know she could ride a horse." He said lowly, flitting his gaze away in thought.

. . . This man.

"No, Aemond," Elaena sighed again, refraining from breaking composure at his jest, "Did you go... flying with her?"

She watched as he registered her question, and her heart skipped as his expression melted into stoicism.

"On Vhagar?" She elaborated, nervously taking in his stiffening face. His eye brightened into a blaze, and his jaw tightened in thought.

Please... please tell me the truth, please just—

"No. I did not." He stated lowly, his nose flaring building irritation.

... Irritation. . . Is he. . . Is he being sincere?

Elaena felt a strange relief replace her apprehension, and her eyebrows raised in surprise of his clear annoyance.

Aemond stepped closer to her, "Why would you ask me such a thing?"

His tone deepened in clear offense, and she felt her thoughts scatter in abashment.

. . . Oh, dear Gods, he's being honest.

Her heart fluttered as she realized she could finally decipher his temperament. However subtle his expressions were, she could see their true tonality now.

"Did she say I did?" He asked lowly, his patient tone threatening to crack as she stood in silence.

She was overwhelmed with his overt discontent, and as flustered as she was by her insecure thoughts, she grew slightly worried for the person who had caused them.

But her flitting gaze seemed enough for him to know the answer, and her heart stuttered as he nodded to himself.

"She will be dealt with for such slander." He declared, and Elaena's eyes widened in apprehension.

What does he mean—Oh, Gods, oh—This is foolish, this is not that important, she's just some insipid girl. Speak!

"No, no," Elaena quickly said, desperate for his resolved gaze to meet hers, "Tis enough to know it isn't true... if it isn't."

His lips quirked in cynical humor, "It's not." He said definitively, shaking his head in thought, "And I will not have her or anyone circulating such fallacies about me."

Elaena's worried expression faltered in surprise, "I didn't take you for a man who cared for such gossip."

"I do when I see it affects you..." His solid tone trailed off as he met her gaze again.

. . . Oh. . .

His words floated in her mind for a moment, dispelling each deprecative thought Cristine and all of her flock had conjured. His jaw tightened again as she stood at a loss for words, and she heard a sigh leave his nose before he turned his gaze away.

"And I will not accept slander on Vhagar's account." He mumbled, keeping his gaze low while her heart found its pace again.

"Of course not," She said quickly, mentally praying she didn't look as breathless as she felt, "So, you... You do not like her?"

Aemond's gaze flickered back up to hers.

"Cristine?" She specified softly, and he tilted his head at her.

"Elaena, why would I like someone so annoyingly vapid?" He asked bluntly, and she stifled a smirk at his scoffing tone.

He speaks as though the matter is obvious. . .

I think he's telling the truth.

She bit her lip at the feel of her blushing cheeks, lowering her gaze as pride filled her chest. It gave her the courage to question him further.

"And the same for Cerelle?" She asked lightly, deciding to clear the roster then and there, "Or Ellyn, or—"

"Why are you asking me this?" His saccharine voice caused her to meet his eye again, and his face ignited the dreaded heat in her groin.

A curious but somewhat knowing smirk played on his lips, and his eye squinted slightly in wait of her answer. She blinked, dumbfounded by him and trying to regain control of her mind.

... Breathe, Elaena—Shit. Shit. Aemond, stop looking at me—Speak!

"No reason." She breathed at last, managing a quick shrug before trailing her gaze along the grounds. Her heart beat so heavily under his stare, she worried the whole of the Keep would hear it.

But he finally hummed in response, "Then I'll have you know, I don't even see those hussies..."

Her eyes widened, and she couldn't help but meet his playful gaze again.

"And my impediment has nothing to do with it."

A sharp snort escaped Elaena's nose, and she covered her face in abashment. Aemond's smile deepened in response, low chuckles rumbling in his chest as he watched her.

"Aemond, that is vile." She said, her voice muffled behind her hand. She didn't sound at all offended though, and his eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Oh, I could think of words far more vile for them than that." He said, and she lowered her hand in humored trepidation. She checked around their space, ensuring their solitude before submitting to his mischief.

"Such as?" She breathed curiously.

"Cunts." He said instantly, and her heart stopped at his ease, "Of the purest kind."

The heat danced in her stomach, flicking at her lower nerve endings as she replayed his vulgarity repeatedly in her mind.

She hated to admit how much she loved to hear him say it...

Then he stepped toward her, his playful energy encouraged by her shock, "Though, I'm sure you have a few in mind after cutting Cristine so deeply."

Her mind flitted to her spark at Cerelle's supper, and his intrigue fanned the delightful fire within her.

Elaena sighed, "She deserved it." She shrugged simply, and he clicked his tongue in a triple tsk.

"She deserved far more than that," He said softly, slowly, "Boasting about Old Valyria as though House Celtigar is worth anything without their looks."

"Tis quite the asset if it keeps them as relevant as they are."

"Mm, Valyrian beauty does wonders to mask shallow minds and empty pockets, doesn't it?" Aemond said with a nod.

Her heart stuttered strangely at the observation, but she hummed in agreement before turning to continue their stroll.

Elaena expected him to follow at her side, but he remained to watch after to her. Try as she might to take in the serenity of the grounds, she couldn't ignore the sensation of his gaze on her back.

She felt the nervous itch of exposure, and instinctively, she pulled at her netting to ensure the top of her hair was covered.

"Elaena."

She turned back at the sound of his call, a soft smile playing on her lips in wait... But her heart slowed as she realized his gaze was directed at her hair.

"Why do you always wear that netting in your hair?" He asked after a moment of appraisal.

Elaena stiffened, feeling her heart skip at his thoughtful tone, "Do you not like it?"

He blinked at her immediate response, and she felt a new weight settle over her shoulders as he approached her.

Please don't say no... but please don't say yes.

"It doesn't matter if I do or do not, it only matters if you truly wish to wear it." He said softly, and her conflicting thoughts evaporated in a new confusion. No one had ever asked her such a thing.

She didn't even know the answer anymore.

"Do you, kēlītsos?" He asked, his tone light as a feather and sending a chill over her skin.
(little cat)

She swallowed stiffly, letting out a sigh through her nose at his endearing term. His expression gave her little to base her own opinion on—he was fully open to hers.

So she shrugged, "I must wear it."

His eyebrows furrowed, "Why?"

"... Because unlike Cristine Celtigar's... my hair does not signify the Blood of Old Valyria." She breathed, feeling herself stifle the building emotion in her throat.

It shouldn't have been something that bothered her anymore, it was a simple fact. If her hair had been silver, if she hadn't looked the spitting image of her mother, her life would have been different.

But Aemond's eye only flitted to her covered hair, and then he hummed in acknowledgement.

"But it signifies you," He said with a resolved shrug, "Take it off."

Her eyes widened and her heart stopped. His expression remained, but his stance tightened in wait.

. . . What?

"I..." She stammered, completely thrown by his candid order, "I cannot—"

"You can," He cut her off, his eye brightening as it focused on her hair, "And you will by order of your prince, take it off."

Elaena's eyebrow raised in challenge, "You are my prince now?"

"I will always be your prince," He said easily, lowering his gaze to meet hers directly, "Take. It. Off."

"Aemond—"

"Elaena."

She sighed at his stubborn attention, looking away with flushing cheeks. But she could see him move in her peripheral to stand in front of her, and her lips unintentionally curled as he bent his knees to meet her eye line.

She looked at him at last, snorting at his expectant expression.

"Take it off." He said tightly, a smile threatening his own lips.

"Alright!" Elaena exasperated, ignoring her fearful fluster in the heat of their banter. She reached back for her netting, and as his eye stayed trained on her hair, she rolled her eyes, "You've no patience."

"I'm glad you know..." He breathed in a snarky tone, but his voice trailed off as she pulled her netting down.

Her twists sprang out, resting at her waist and brushing past her shoulders. She refrained from grimacing as they tickled her skin, and she gaged his reaction through her eyelashes.

Aemond's lips shut as his back straightened. His eye widened in silent surprise, and Elaena felt her heart beat within her throat. He stood in quiet captivation for a moment, unaware of her anxious thoughts.

Then he blinked out of his trance and swallowed subtly with a hum.

"You will never wear another netting," He said in a timbre that made her lower heat flutter, "Not here."

When his eye met hers, and she registered the liquifying emotion in the violet shade, she felt a wave of relief blend in with her heat. He was in shameless awe, she couldn't bring herself to question it.

So she nodded to him thoughtlessly, failing to notice the limp netting in her hand.

His eye flickered back to her hair, blinking in fascination as he licked his lips and stepped toward her.

"It's grown so much..." He mumbled, slowly circling her form. The exposed itch crept up her spine again, and her head turned to follow his movement.

Some of her twists spilled further down her shoulder in the act, and she stiffened at the feeling of them grazing her neck.

Aemond's face softened as he noticed her tension. Without thinking, he reached toward the twists that bothered her, but then he froze in realization.

"May I?" He asked quickly, and her eyes widened at him. Her cheeks flared as she took in his hesitant hand and the eager edge to his voice.

... Oh, my Gods.

She nodded to him, lowering her gaze from his large hand as it moved to carefully collect her hair. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as he pulled more of the twists over her shoulder.

Her heart skipped when his knuckle brushed against the skin of her neck, and a chill washed over her from the sound of his low breath.

... Oh... my Gods...

Aemond sighed at the coils in his grasp, trailing his hand down to the curly ends below her ribcage. His eyebrows furrowed in wonder as he stretched them softly, and then he released them to watch them recoil.

Elaena's lips curled unintentionally at his fixation, watching her hair bounce back from his touch. A few pieces fell into her face in response, and he immediately brushed them out of her face.

Her inner heat fluttered at the feel of his fingertips against her hairline, ghostly careful and breathtakingly sweet.

. . . How does he do this to me. . .

The thought dwindled in her mind as she fell into a daze. He breathed slowly as he continued his exploration, bunching the ends of the twists carefully and appreciating the texture of them.

"I take it you like my hair?" She asked, desperate to fill the silence.

"I do, tis..." He said, almost as dazed as she was, "I love it."

She blinked in utter allure, losing her words for a moment as she savored his confession. She had never heard him say he loved something. It seemed as foreign as it did beautiful on his lips...

Breathe... Relax, breathe... Just friends—Breathe—Just friendly...

She let out a quick breath before lowering her gaze, and at the sight of his glimmering silver strands, she found a way to redirect the conversation.

"Though it does not hold a candle to yours." She said timidly, and his eyebrows quirked slightly.

"On the contrary," He breathed, "Mine is but a candle, and yours the sun."

... Oh... my... Gods...

As dumbfounded as his opinion made her, she couldn't ignore how it conflicted with hers. She believed Aemond might have possessed the most beautiful hair of the realm.

"I disagree..." She said lowly, keeping her gaze to the silver locks hanging over his leathers. He finally looked away from her dark twists to challenge her.

"Oh, do you?" He whispered, his eye dilating to a thin violet ring.

Elaena nodded immediately, struggling to ignore her obnoxious heart or aching lower heat. She held his gaze until his silence flustered her further, and then she looked back to his hair.

"May I?"

"Yes." He said immediately, as though he'd been waiting for her to ask.

She felt her lips curl in bubbling excitement as she stepped even closer to him, and his own smile relaxed as she touched the ends of his straight silver strands.

... Oh... Oh my.

Smooth. His hair was extremely smooth, almost feather light. She tested it further by trailing her fingers up the long strands, and her heart stuttered at its total lack of coarseness.

Elaena was transfixed by how the texture slipped effortlessly through her fingers, shimmering in the peaks of sunlight.

She almost missed how he reached for a few of the twists behind her back, drawing so close to her that she could feel the heat from his body and breathe in his smokey scent...

"Oh—" His voice was but a whisper, but it pierced Elaena's heightened senses and knocked her out of her thoughts.

She followed his gaze to see his fingers tangled in her thick coils, and he stopped moving to keep from pulling her hair. As flustered as she was, his focused expression humored her, and she released his strands to carefully untether her twists from his hand.

She could feel his eye on her as she worked, and her heart thumped heavily in her chest as his fingers lingered with hers.

She marveled at their hands, their shades, their sizes... Barely touching, barely alike, but still engaged...

"My lady?"

Elaena stiffened at the sound of a new voice, finally registering how Aemond hovered over her. His expression was blank, absentminded, and she felt her face flare at his unwavering attention.

Gods... his eye... his nose... his lips—

"Lady Elaena?"

She blinked out of her threatening trance, tearing her gaze from him and searching for the owner of the small voice.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Sylvia, standing docile and fidgeting her hands before her.

"Sylvia?" Elaena called, her tone edging on concern as she peered past Aemond's shoulder, "What is it?"

The young maid refrained from acknowledging the prince, focusing sharply on Elaena.

"The princess... She requests your presence, my lady."

Elaena's eyebrows rose at the news, nodding immediately and trying to stifle her fluttering thoughts of the man before her.

Helaena... Helaena, she's in need—his lips—She's in need. Go—his eye—Stop. You're her lady first. Go.

She let her fingers fall from Aemond's, but she stiffened as his hand followed after. She kept her gaze low, afraid her resolve to part from him would collapse if she looked at him again.

"Spring is on the rise," He whispered, meaning only for her to hear, "This would be a most perfect place to be."

She could feel his breath at her ear, and it took all of her willpower to follow what he was saying. She managed with a nod, not missing how his fingers returned to the curly ends of her twists.

"Meet me here tomorrow at noon." He breathed slowly, and she felt a shutter roll through her.

... Say less.

Elaena swallowed stiffly with a nod, and he pulled back to catch her gaze. She held her breath again as he succeeded.

"Kivio?" He asked softly, pinching her curls in silent hope. The curious tone of his voice made her melt, and her answer came easily.
(Promise?)

"Nyke kivio." She whispered back, nodding to his bright expression.
(I promise)

Her inner heat swirled from his lingering gaze. After a moment of appraising her conviction, he hummed and folded his hands behind his back.

With their total disconnection, Elaena felt reality settle back over her. She lowered her gaze from his, stepping away from him and turning her attention to Sylvia's shy form.

She approached the girl, certain that Aemond's eye didn't leave her as she retreated.

. . . Gods, was it always so chilly out here? I feel as though I'd been put into a furnace...

Her heart sank as she and Sylvia entered the Keep, and she registered the wetness pooling between her legs. She instinctively looked at Sylvia, paranoid that her soiled undergarments spoke as loud as the blush on her cheeks.

Say something. Don't think about it, don't make it obvious.

"Um," She mumbled, catching the quiet girl's attention, "How did you... How did you know where we were?"

Sylvia's wide eyes drifted forward again, abashment coating her disposition, "... Lord Larys."

Elaena's eyebrows furrowed in slight intrigue, "Lord Larys?"

Sylvia nodded, "I encountered him after searching for you and the prince in the library... He said he'd seen the two of you strolling the Godswood from the Keep's balcony..."

Her voice trailed off with a threatening quirk to her lips, and Elaena's heart stuttered in unease.

And it wasn't because the infamous Clubfoot had been watching her, or because of Sylvia's knowing smile, or because of anything she would normally fidget over.

It was because she should have worried over those things, and all she could think about was Aemond's gentle fingers in her hair, gentle gaze on her face, and gentle voice in her ear...

Gods be good... Does he know what he is doing to me?

———

It's getting hot in here, yall. If Aemond and Elaena ain't gonna disrobe i might just have to 💀

Lord, WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN TO HAVE MY S/O RUN THEIR LITHE FINGERS THROUGH MY PASSIONTWISTS?! WHEN?! I see what You do for others—

I loved this sweet chappie, and there's more to come. The Steamy train is well underway 😘

Catch you guys in 30 🤪