You awoke to an abrupt pounding on your door. The sound did not let up as you scrambled from the bed. Your foot got caught in the sheets and you fell to the ground. You groaned in pain but got back up and made your way to the door. The coolness of the chamber alerted you that it was still the early hours of the morning.

You swung the door open and prepared to curse out whoever was disrupting you, but the words got caught in your throat at seeing who was there. A knight of the Kingsguard had been knocking and stepped back when the door opened. Standing there was Aemond, dressed in fine clothing and seemingly perfect for it being so early. Did he ever sleep?

It was then that you became extremely conscious of what you were wearing. The thin flowing nightgown was modest for elf clothing, though it would have been considered immodest to your people. The silk brushed your ankles. The neckline was not too low, but just enough to allow the cool breeze to kiss the skin. There were no sleeves, as two strips of fabric rested across your collarbones and reached behind your neck to be tied into a bow. A thin belt of silk was tightened at your waist.

You crossed your arms over your chest to project some morsel of modesty, but it seemed as though Aemond did not care. He had a bored look on his face.

"Get ready, quickly, then come out," Aemond demanded.

"Pardon, your grace?" You tried to get clarification, but he crossed his arms and turned his back to you. You doubted he liked waiting, so you shut your door and quickly ran to your wardrobe to select a dress. The entire time you got ready, a myriad of thoughts washed over you. Perhaps, with your attitude last night, he had finally run out of tolerance for your presence and decided to kill you.

However, he was adamant about not killing you or at the very least saving you from monsters that would kill you. His reasoning was your close friendship with Helaena, but you wondered how far that could protect you or even if that was a genuine reason. Aemond was wise, it would not be prudent to reveal your reasoning to the very person you disliked. If that was his play, then what could be the reason that he wished to spare you?

Without Amara and Liriel, you were able to dress quickly. You put on a less extravagant gown and put your hair up in a human style. If you were truly going to die, you would do it looking like your people. You walked back to the door and opened it. Aemond turned around and surveyed your body up and down. He hummed lightly before turning around and walking down the hall. The guards followed and you guessed you had to as well.

It was a tense walk of silence down hallways and stairwells. The tapping of feet echoed off of the stone. Your gaze was zeroed in on Aemond's back. He was a few paces in front of you and swayed with each step. The walk dredged on, feeling significantly longer than it should have. You saw the castle pass by and watched as servants and members of the court would swerve around your group and scurry on to their tasks.

Within just minutes of your haze of worry, you found yourself leaving the castle and entering a familiar area. It was the stables you had been to when Aemond rescued you in the forest. The thought of that situation had your face reddening with embarrassment. Thinking about it now, you wanted to slap your past self for such a ridiculous idea. You cursed yourself for ever letting someone else - especially Aemond - save you.

Perhaps some elves, like Aemond and Criston, were correct in their observations about you; nothing but a dumb inexperienced human.

A servant came forth and bowed to Aemond, handing him the leads to two horses. One of them was more elaborately decorated and chestnut-coloured. It was the same horse he had that day in the forest. You guessed it was his, but wondered how the horses were treated here. Clearly, they were spoilt, from the grandness of their environment and the food you could see being fed to them. However, you wondered if the elves were able to form strong bonds with them. Horses did not live long in comparison to elves and it must cut deep when they pass so frequently.

The other one was a medium dark gray, with patches of lighter gray. The fur pattern was like salt spilled over a silver tray. You got closer and Aemond handed you the reins. You were still confused as to what he wanted from you or what he was doing. Aemond flung up onto his horse with graceful strength. You settled into the saddle of the horse you were given and followed him. He was always in a rush, regardless of the task he had. Aemond moved with a quickness of impatience.

Instead of venturing into the deep forest that the two of you had emerged from that fateful day, he moved to go down a wide dirt path that cut through the foliage. You looked around as the horses moved forward, with Aemond just a little in front of you. You heard movement behind you and turned to see a retinue of guards following.

The path was long and winding. There was no sound but the clattering of hooves on the ground. You rocked rhythmically with the horse's steps and tried to remain calm. You were abruptly woken up, rushed out of your room, and are now taking what seems to be a leisurely ride through the forest. Perhaps you had not woken up yet and this was some weird hazy dream comprised of nonsensical moments spliced together to create a vague narrative conjured up by your mind.

While your vision was focused on the forest, you did not notice Aemond looking at you until he spoke up, "You will pack what is needed when we arrive."

You blinked a few times and your horse caught up with his, "Pardon, your grace, arrive where?"

Aemond rolled his eye and turned to look forward and steer his horse. You were on his left side and could only see the eyepatch and scar. His eye, of which you would be able to decipher any emotion, was hidden from you. Whether done intentionally or not was none of your business.

He let out a barely audible sigh and answered, "Your home. When we arrive, you will instruct my guards what to pack to bring back with you." You were left with two burning questions, one more inquisitive and the other frustrated. On one hand, you were angered at his attitude of impatience. Why does he appear frustrated at your questions despite not telling you anything prior? You wondered if he was expecting you to read his mind. On the other hand, you were confused. How did he know there were things from your home that you wished to collect?

Sensing your confusion, Aemonded continued, "Daeron brought it up in conversation, that you told him you wished to get other items from your home." You knew Daeron did not mean to let your words slip in any malicious manner. He had advocated for you, much like Helaena had done in the past.

"I mean no offence, your grace, but why are you accompanying me?" You voiced your confusion. It was a valid question. There was no need to join her, especially considering he was a king and likely had more pressing matters to attend to.

Almost with a reluctance to answer, Aemond responded, "With your growing record of wandering off, I saw it fit to make sure you do not. Since you have already, by luck or miracle, snuck past my guards before." You now understood why he came along. He looked, if you guessed correctly, embarrassed to admit a mere human managed to sneak past his guard.

"Next time you need this kind of aid in your research, you could come directly to me, not Daeron." Just as you managed to understand the situation, his words sent you awry. It is not as if he presented an openness for you to speak to him. Quite clearly this was the longest he had gone not outright insulting you any chance he got. What made him think, that through his attitude, you would wish to speak to him, let alone come to him for help? Why would you not go to Daeron, when he is the head healer?

"Forgive me, your grace, but I did not think the king would trouble himself with the whims of a stupid little rūklon that risks her life." It was the same term that Helaena used when she revealed Aemond spoke of you to her. You did not understand the word, nor was your pronunciation good from what you could remember. You indirectly gave him information that while Daeron informed him of your words, Helaena was informing you of his. It was an equal exchange of information that only slightly tilted the playing field to equal standings.

Aemond turned his good eye to you, but you did not back down and spoke, "What does that word mean? Rūklon?"

You watched as Aemond kicked his horse to move faster and cantered forward. He ignored your question and resumed a normal pace once ahead of you. Realizing the conversation was over, you continued to glance at your surroundings. The forest eventually broke and you found your group moving out onto the familiar meadows of your home. Finally, you felt the sun on your skin for the first time in a while. The heat warmed through your body and you relished in the wide field of tall yellow grass that swayed with a passing breeze.

When you came over a hill and saw your lone cottage just a few metres away, you were overcome with emotion. The sight alone gave you relief like no other. While staying in the elf kingdom had been luxurious, nothing could rival the bliss of simplicity. You sped up the horse to get there first, passing Aemond and not caring. You dismounted the horse and tied it up at the single tree in your yard.

You dashed to the door and stuck your key in. The iron lock creaked, as did the door when you swung it open. You left the door open and stepped in. Everything was just as you left it, save for the fine film of dust covering everything. The light outside tumbled through the windows and illuminated the space. You slowly breathed in the scent of your home before releasing a breath.

You began to scan everything and take in what to pack. A sound came from the door and Aemond entered. He scanned around your place, analysis clear in his eye. It swept across everything with scrutiny. You chose to ignore him and speak to the guards that came. They were silent, only taking your commands of what to move and pack with grace and efficiency. The whole time while packing, you occasionally glanced at Aemond who would be looking at whatever he was near. He was currently occupied by your bookshelf, scanning the titles.

You walked to the desk beside it and began to sort through the piles of books and papers. Suddenly, a book you had not seen for a long time came to you. It was bound in dark green dyed leather. The design was simple and you picked it up with semi-shaking hands. You looked to your right to see Aemond already watching you. His eye showed intense interest.

"This, uh," You looked down at the book, unable to maintain eye contact, "It's my father's personal journal. I could never bring myself to read it, only his research journals."

Aemond hummed and brought his attention back to the bookshelf. It was silent for a moment before he broke it, "It was just your father and you here?" He looked around the small space and you could tell he likely felt out of place here. He spent his whole life, many centuries, in the luxury of the palace. Your little hovel was something entirely new to him. Even smallfolk elves had grander places than this, but that largely had to do with the elf kingdom having more wealth than yours.

"My father never lived here. I moved from the capital after his death." You placed the journal in a bag and began diligently putting other items into their correct wooden boxes.

"And your mother?" His question had you halt your movements. It was almost as if he asked you questions because he cared for the answers. You brushed that thought away; he likely wanted to know more to gain some sort of upper hand over you, since you so brilliantly tipped the scales just that day.

You almost chose not to respond, but relented, "My mother passed when I was little." You did not want to elaborate, for it was still uncomfortable for you. The memories you had of her were fading with the years and it brought you an immense feeling of guilt.

Aemond did not speak further and left you to your duties. He left your home shortly after, choosing to stay outside with the horses. It only took another hour to collect everything. At that time, a few animal-drawn carts had arrived to load up the chests and wooden boxes. You had packed your clothing as well, but you doubted you would wear such items back at the palace. They were not poor, but also not expensive and paled in comparison to the elvish silks.

However, they would be nice to wear in the comfort of your room to remind you of home.

You stayed behind as the guards left to look around your home one last time. You did not know when you would come back or if you would come back. It was after many minutes that you emerged from the house. It was midday and the heat of the sun made you almost happy to go back into the forest, for the light chill would ease the heat.

Upon being outside, you noticed that the carts and guards were gone. Only Aemond remained. He stood by his horse, looking out at the vast expanse of field and mountains in the distance. Just a few weeks travel through those mountains is the capital of your kingdom, of which you remember learning that he attacked it during the Great War.

"Your grace?" You had approached him and untied your horse. He broke from his thoughts and looked at you.

Aemond got on the saddle, "We shall take a shortcut back, the others will be slowed on the main road with all of the baggage."

All you did was nod and follow. While you had accepted your temporary stay in the kingdom, it did not truly hit you until you saw your empty home. It was a big undertaking, a change you had not experienced since the years before moving there. The forest passed by as you followed behind Aemond.

The two of you meandered down a small path. The trees, in their great age, never failed to strike you with awe. The environment around you was ancient and it was truly an honor to see. It was during your sightseeing that you saw a patch of flowers growing just off the side of the path ahead. Aemond passed by, but you stopped to look at them. In the semi-darkness of the forest, these purple flowers grew strong. They seemed to give off a light glow, the purple-blue mix illuminated faintly.

"Azure," Aemond had stopped and turned his horse to face you, "They're the elf azure variety."

You kept your gaze on them. Something compelled you to get off your horse to take a closer look and you did. You moved just a little away from your horse and crouched down. Reaching out, you brushed your fingers across some of the petals with as much care as you could muster.

"They are beautiful." Your voice was only just above a whisper. Despite it sounding rather stupid, you felt the need to speak gently around such plants in fear the harshness of your voice could cause them to wilt.

"Giēñagon syt se gīs." Aemond spoke. You turned to him for clarification and he answered, "Cure for the soul. That is what my mother called it. She would grow them in her garden and fill our rooms with them. It's an elf superstition that the scent is so calming it can soothe the soul."

It had you reeling for a moment. Aemond had, in some way, opened up to you. Just for a moment, you were able to see someone who was not the king, but simply an elf. You leaned down to sniff the flowers and became suddenly aware of a startling fact. It was the exact scent of the perfume Amara and Liriel had introduced you to. The one that you had used every day since after having an affinity for it.

Your past encounters with Aemond hit you with new clarity. The image of him swinging his sword to stop just at your neck came back. He had stopped and looked struck, a mystery you had not known at the time. His words on having spared you for his sister's sake came back and you came to only slightly doubt them. He had been caught off guard by you because you smelled like a part of his long-ago childhood, seeped in memories of a time lost before the rift between humanity and elf, before the Great War, and before the disastrous taint.

It was surprising, how such a seemingly insignificant flower may have saved your life.

At the mention of his mother, you wished to open up. If he extended a branch your way, it would be imperative to cross it. Your livelihood depended on his mercy and you would appeal to it as much as you could.

"No matter how hard I try, I cannot remember much of my mother. In my mind, I can conjure up a face, but I know it is not her for I have forgotten it." As you spoke, Aemond listened intently, but your gaze was focused on the azures in front of you, "One thing I can remember is the sound of her voice as she sang me to sleep. The warmth of her embrace..."

You got lost in your rant but came to after and turned to view the king. At your confession, Aemond looked at you in a way you had not seen yet. It was not with malice, or discontent, or even judgment – something was gentler there, if just for a moment.

You decide that here is the perfect time to mend the gap, "We do not have to be enemies."

"That is the nature of our kinds," Aemond responded. His hands gripped the reins of his horse tighter.

You pushed further, "It was not always that way. I know it and I know you were alive before this hatred. Now, I may not be educated on what happened to cause it but surely–"

"Yes, you don't know." Aemond's voice came out darker and more authoritative. A darkness glossed over his eye and the scar on his face moved with the grimace he wore, "Do not try and speak on things you do not know. I will not have the past thrown at me." The way in which he took it so personally had you back off. Aemond moved to turn his horse around and you knew if he did the little rapport built between you two that day would vanish.

"I do not hate you," Your words caused him to stop. You were slightly fearful, but it waned with each passing day, "I do not know you enough to hate you."

"But you have heard enough," Aemond's voice had dropped back down to a natural volume, contrasting his combative attitude from before. He shifted on the saddle and scanned the darkened forest.

"Stories, yes, but I doubt them more with each day. I have not seen you gut anyone, or drink the blood of your fallen foes, or anything else like that." You reasoned. Your fingers brushed the purple petals of the flowers in front of you.

Aemond looked away from you and towards the flowers on the ground, "How do you know I do not do those things?"

You could tell he was trying to derail the conversation away from your previous point, "It is like I said, we do not have to be enemies."

"And be what? Friends?" Aemond sneered. His words brought you back to the morning after the first party you attended. He had insulted you in the library, insinuating that no elf would ever view you as equal enough to be a friend. It was a callback to that moment and you understood his venom was coming from a place of defence. Aemond likely was not used to being so open, especially to someone like you, and was trying to put a wall back up as some sort of defence mechanism.

"No, not as friends," You paused for a moment to think, "Perhaps just amicable acquaintances."

Aemond was silent as he took in your words, "Amicable acquaintances?" His voice lost its venom and instead came across as amused. There was no joviality to it and you wondered if his face was permanently stuck in discontent.

"Yes. There is no need to engage in petty fights. I am here for nothing but a blink of your lifetime. With the ages, you won't even remember I was here. See? It is not so bad." You laid out your path of logic. Aemond mulled over that fact, but you could not read what he truly thought about it. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he took your mortality into account.

It was true, that your time here would be nothing but a flash for him. There would be no reason why he should draw it out any longer or make it difficult. He and all the others would move on quickly after you left, you were sure of it. While it originally discomforted you, there had been some level of acceptance. Nothing was meant to last forever.

Aemond looked you up and down and nodded, "Acquaintances then." He turned the horse and continued on the path.

It was, with immense relief, a comfort to know your time here would not be spent at odds with Aemond.