CHAPTER EIGHT.
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Have you ever known a body not to be haunted?

CAMERON RICH, THEORY OF MOTION
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ELIA TURNS HER GAZE TO HER SON. Aegon is almost a man. He is tall, like his father, with pale silver hair that he keeps swept back and tied low against the nape of his neck. Elia watches as he finishes a letter to Lord Connington, who is currently residing at Griffin's Roost. Her heart warms at the sight. How he has grown in the past moons, she thinks to herself. He is no longer a boy. The thought almost makes her sad.

     He notices her gaze on him and looks up. "How are you, mother?" he asks and lays the quill down.

     "I'm well. I hope the banquet tonight isn't as tedious as you seem to think it will be," she teases. "Though I have a feeling you have someone to enjoy it with."

Aegon smiles sheepishly but stays quiet.

     Elia finds Clarysse Tyrell to be rather intriguing, though she hasn't had the chance to truly get to know the girl. At first she had seemed shy and demure, but she carries a quiet confidence underneath. Elia certainly prefers her to her sister Margaery, who in some ways reminds her of a young Cersei Lannister; the same shrewd glint in their eyes, the same cunning, the same goal. Though Clarysse may simply be better at hiding her ambitions than her sister. The same blood flows in their veins, after all. Elia pauses in her thoughts. She dislikes that she has become so bitter. Instead, she asks —

     "Now forgive a mother's questioning, and tell me; do you love her?"

     Straight to the point, this woman. Aegon falls silent for a moment, taking stock of what is in his heart. Affection, certainly. Lust, absolutely. But love? It is too early to say.

     "I may be on my way," he says, and the words feel true as he speaks them.

     Elia hums. "True love is rare. A chance to pursue it even more so." The words shift in the air like a warning, like a threat.

CLARYSSE HAD SLEPT BADLY THE night before the banquet. No surprise there, she'd always been an annoyingly light sleeper and even the slightest hint of excitement in the coming day is sure to wake her just after dawn.

     Last night was no different. Since she knows she would spend following evening at the banquet, Clarysse had spent most of the night pacing in her room, going to the dresser to take out a gown, set it on the sofa and going back to bed only to change her mind and return to the wardrobe.

Nothing seems pleasant enough to her eyes even though when she'd had those gowns made, Clarysse was quite impressed by all of them.

     Margaery insists that everything will be fine, that it isn't different from the balls they have attended back home but Clarysse knows better. Now that in the eyes of the lords and ladies, Aegon is courting her, she knows that she cannot afford to make even the slightest mistake. They will all be watching tonight.

     Her mother has given her such a strict and detailed education throughout her whole life that it is supposed to be easy for her, yet here Clarysse stands, dreading to leave her chamber. She closes her eyes and sighs. Her legs seem to start moving on their own. Traitors.

     Her grandmother is already waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs when she descends.

     "Do I look alright?"

     "Like a summer's day, Clara," Olenna Tyrell tuts. "You get more lovely every time I see you."

     "Thank you," she smiles demurely.

     "You can thank me by entrapping that Targaryen boy. You should be thinking about a marriage soon, if you don't mind me saying. A lady's reputation has been destroyed by less."

     Clarysse has to hold back a grim smile as she thinks about the night of her nameday so long ago. Her reputation had emerged unscathed, as far as she could judge from the proposals that she'd received since then. Instead, she nods and follows Lady Olenna into the Great Hall.

     She feels a silly, childish thrill of excitement when Aegon sends her a bright smile as she makes her way to her seat. In that moment, and a thousand little others throughout the night, Clarysse finally understands what is so intriguing about Aegon. What makes her so unable to resist his charm. Of course she'd realised early on that he is handsome, she'd have been blind to miss that. But now, illuminated by the glow of a hundred candles and with a smile like that, he is dazzling.

     Clarysse finds herself smiling back — a small, tenuous thing, but truer than any smile she's given any suitor.

     From his seat at the high table, Aegon winks at her. That wins him a small, silent laugh from her, setting Aegon's poor heart stuttering.

"Lovely," his sister quips, smile sharp and Aegon can hear how Jon tries to hide his laugh.

Aegon ignores them but cannot help but feel caught. If Rhaenys noticed their interaction, certainly others have, too. And they would not simply tease him for it. Every dance, every glance, every smile is enough for the rumor mill to start spinning, and it is crucial to be able to sail through it without any damage to one's reputation.

     "At least try to be discreet about it," Rhaenys murmurs and Aegon hides his grimace. "Especially if you do not plan on marrying her."

     This makes him pause. As he turns to look at his older sister, her dark eyes are already on him, gauging his reaction. His frown makes her snort. "You must know that this could ruin the girl as well as our relations to the Reach. The Tyrell's are the vindictive sort."

     When there is no immediate response from Aegon, Rhaenys whispers, "What is the matter with you?"

When Aegon stays still, her eyes widen in bewilderment. "Oh, Egg." A heartbeat. Then a laugh, genuine in its joy. "You do plan on marrying her."

As if Clarysse can hear them across the hall, her eyes flit and catch on Aegon's again. He holds her gaze, and is surprised when she stalls in averting hers. Aegon sees her sister lean in, murmur in her ear, and she turns her head just enough to indicate that she has her attention. But she watches him still. And then she blinks and turns her head fully from him.

     Rhaenys has begun speaking again, but Aegon has hardly caught it. He reluctantly turns his head toward his sister, who is grinning, raising her brows. "Is that a look of fondness I see?"

"It's a look of annoyance, Rhae."

"LADY CLARYSSE," HE GREETS as if they had not traded looks throughout the whole evening.

     "Good evening, Your Grace." Her voice is soft as if her heart isn't already beating in her throat.

     "May I have this dance?"

     Clarysse bites her cheek and shoots him an almost amused look. "Certainly." I would love to, she adds in her head.

     She would also love to make sure to get to the floor without fainting of the sudden, unreasonable excitement running through her veins but she has a feeling she wouldn't be so lucky.

     Aegon offers his hand and Clarysse takes it, for some reason hating and being thankful for her gloves at the same time. She swears he'd be able to feel her heartbeat if he would touch her skin for even a moment. When the music starts and he puts his hand on her waist, Clarysse takes a shaky breath that she hopes he doesn't notice and steals a look at him only to find him already watching her. They share a smile and begin to dance.

     Her dress dips surprisingly low across her back and Aegon is entranced by the subtle shift of muscles beneath his hands. It stops him short, this sudden, breathless wanting for her. He can't help but admire it, and feels no shame in admitting that he desires her — he desired her even in the beginning, when she was a stranger forced into his life, although he'd had the restraint to know that any attempt at seduction would ruin her.

He is not ashamed to admit either that, should the occasion arise, no force in all the world would stop him from seducing her now.

Still, it's unfair, he thinks. It's unfair that his desire to keep Clarysse is so overpowering that he's willing to drop everything to stay by her side. It's a dangerous thought to have. Still, he murmurs, "Would you take a risk for me?"

     Her eyes flit to his. Her mouth curves upward in what Aegon can only describe as mischievous. "That depends entirely on the reward."

     He is happy that she has become so comfortable around him that she is not afraid to toy with him a little. The many hours of walking the gardens with her in silence have been worth it, if they have bought him her confidence. His lips brush her ear and he can feel her breath hitch. "The reward will befit the risk."

     He feels her laughing against his neck in a way that makes him want to pull her out along the corridors, into his chambers...

     Instead, they seem to part ways after their dance. Aegon returns to his seat next to Rhaenys, who is in deep conversation with Jon, only to leave the Great Hall when the singers begin a new tune. Two dances, they had agreed. So that no one would harbour suspicions. He is not entirely certain whether she will actually risk her reputation. He starts pacing a little anxiously when the second dance comes to an end.

When she rounds the corner to join him on the balcony, her cheeks are rosy with anticipation. He simply looks at her for a moment.

"I don't think I've told you." Aegon's voice is low and soft, like he still fears that someone could listen, "You look beautiful tonight."

     Her heart races and Clarysse can't find the words to string together to create a thought let alone speak them. Aegon steps closer to her, he is taller so she has to lift her head to meet his eyes. They are lighter than hers, a faint purple close to the colour of the lavenders planted around the gardens.

     Aegon smiles softly and lifts his hand to her cheek. The back of his fingers slide down her cheekbone to her jaw, it leaves a phantom trail of fire. She almost wants to ask what he's doing, why he's doing it, it seems much too intimate but a part of her doesn't want to speak.

     "You always look beautiful, of course," he says lowly, his thumb rests at the bottom of her lip for a moment before they find their way to her shoulder, playing with the edge of her dress, "There just seems to be something different about you tonight."

     Her voice is caught in her throat.

     Clarysse stares up into Aegon's lilac eyes under the navy night of the sky.

     Aegon's hand is light against her skin as it trails down the edge of her dress. It leaves a burning trail of heat in its wake and she just barely feels the brush of his fingers against the edge of her breast. His hand moves back up and slips over the side of her neck and there's something that moves between them. A sort of intensity that she never thought existed.

     He tilts her head higher; eyes moving over the soft youth of her face, categorising it. Aegon slips his thumb under the sharp edge of her jaw to the soft underside, rests for a moment over her racing pulse.

     He leans his head down, to the hallow of her throat. She feels his breath, warm before his mouth closes against her skin. A noise of surprise escapes her before she can repress it and her muscles are tense, arms and legs locked into position.

     He drags blood to the surface in long sucks. There's a hand under her jaw and another resting on her lower back. His fingers dig into her hip briefly before he lets her go, soft lingering kisses up her neck, like the soft touch of butterfly wings. The hollow of her neck is damp and she's seen enough whores in King's Landing to know that there will be a dark mark there on the morrow.

     Aegon's lips rest on the edge of her jaw, above his thumb which still rests against her pounding heartbeat. She feels his lips turn upwards, a smile, a secret, a promise; just for her.

     He tilts her head up, and finally presses his lips to hers, open mouthed and desperate, like all the air has disappeared from his lungs and her lips are his oxygen. Clarysse can't feel anything but the line of Aegon's lips, his hot breath, tongue, the scrape of his teeth when he catches her lower lip between his. He holds her head in his hands carefully, gently, like she's a fragile little thing. Slides his hand behind her head and grabs hold of the back of her neck.

     Aegon wants to kiss her again and again and again. She is so soft, with her blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. It is a dangerous feeling. If she holds too much sway over his heart, the next thing would be to hold control over his head.