ACT II — CHAPTER IV
Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ Tᴏ Pʀᴏᴠᴇ

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Myra would have been perfectly content if Aemond never reached out to her again. She probably would have been better off for it. But it seemed Aemond had taken her last words, We'll see, as an invitation to try and prove himself.

When letters from him used to be sparse, Myra was now getting letters from him every week, more often than she got letters from Derron. At first, Myra didn't answer, as she was still incredibly angry at him for how he spoke to her.

But, even though they hadn't really been friends in years, Aemond knew her well enough to be able to draw her in.

Myra,

I never told you how impressive it is for you to have claimed the Cannibal. I remember every detail from when news of it reached King's Landing.

My father had been the one to tell us of what happened. That you returned on the dragon after being missing for days and that you looked half dead. My mother was appalled that Rhaenyra would have allowed you to run off on your own like that.

Aegon talked about it for weeks. He was very impressed that you were able to claim a wild dragon, an assumably untamable beast. I am too. I have spent years wondering how you did it. I wonder if you'll ever tell me.

I hope you have been well these past few weeks. If you find the time, write back to me. Tell me about your dragon.

Aemond.

Aemond knew that Myra had always longed for a dragon. It was a pain they had once shared. Perhaps she was foolish for telling him that he was the first person she thought of after claiming the Cannibal. But Myra didn't think about that as she wrote her reply.

She had never told anyone what really happened that day on the mountaintop, that she had not sought out the Cannibal, but he had come to her. Yet, Myra found herself describing every detail of how it happened to Aemond, as well as everything she could remember from the two days she and the Cannibal had been on her own.

However, she did make sure to omit the part about why she was away for so long. She didn't think it would look good to admit that she thought Rhaenyra and Daemon had murdered her father and were planning on murdering her next. No, that would not look good for her mother's claim at all.

And so, their exchange of letters became more frequent. Myra was embarrassed that she had folded so easily, but Aemond never said anything about it or made her feel bad, so she never thought about it for too long.

Myra had a new light about her, and it was noticed by those around her. They couldn't pinpoint what, but she just seemed happier than she had been. Rhaenyra thought that she had not seen her like this since before Laenor left.

Rhaena told Jacaerys that she believed Myra's light spirits were caused by her growing friendship with Derron, but he didn't buy it.

"How many letters has she exchanged with Derron? It wouldn't make sense for her to be in such high spirits after all this time," Jace had said, "It has to be something else."

Along with her oddly cheery attitude, Myra had began attending every event she could. Jace had attended so many name day celebrations and weddings with her that he had lost count. However, Baela and Rhaena were finally able to attend as well, and he was so distracted by them that he never noticed Myra sneaking off with Aemond.

They would sneak off to an abandoned corridor or garden and fill each other in on things in their lives that could not be expressed in letters. They never did anything improper, unless one counted stolen glances and light hand brushes.

That was, at least, until they snuck off during Orwen Bar Emmon's 22nd name day feast, and Myra made the mistake of bringing up Derron Borrell.

"Derron will be at the tourney at Stonedance, as well," Myra said absentmindedly as they sat in one of the windowsills in the library of Sharp Point, "I believe he'll be competing again."

Aemond scoffed, "Of course he will be."

Myra's eyes narrowed, "Do not be like that."

"Hearing his name brings me as much vexation as hearing Aegon's drunken rambles," Aemond spat.

"If you try speaking to him you will see that he is not as terrible as you make him out to be," Myra said, wringing her hands together in her lap.

"Hearing him speak is torture enough," Aemond replied, leaning his head against the wall behind him and staring out the window, "What was it he said at Casterly Rock? Something about conquering the world with your favor? He sounded like a fool."

Myra looked down at her lap, biting her lip as she picked at her fingers. She had found Derron's words to her to be very sweet, endearing even. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. It had been over a year since that tournament, and she still thought of his words often. She hated that Aemond made her feel like an idiot for doing so.

Aemond, noticing that Myra had not responded to him, glanced over at her, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?"

Myra balled her hands up, a poor attempt to hide the damage done. She looked out the window, avoiding Aemond's eye.

"What have I done now?" he sighed, leaning forward slightly.

The Velaryon girl looked over at him, unsure if she wanted to answer him.

Aemond tilted his head, "If you want to suffer in silence, then fine."

Myra's look turned into an annoyed glare, "I liked what Derron said to me."

"Just because you liked it doesn't mean that it didn't sound ridiculous," Aemond told her.

"Maybe you receive copious amounts of kind words from the ladies at court, but no one has ever spoken to me like that before, especially not so openly," Myra said, her anger boiling at the surface, "No one has made their intentions for me so open, save for old men."

Aemond's jaw tensed, "You still intend to marry him?"

"Well, he is my most favorable suitor. And my only one," Myra answered, crossing her arms.

"You cannot marry him."

Myra scoffed, shaking her head. She wasn't sure how they had managed to go over a year without this conversation being brought up again, but she wasn't going to entertain it.

She stood up and smoothed out her dress, "I am not going through this again. I will try to find you tomorrow before I leave."

Without a second glance at him, Myra turned to leave the room. Aemond quickly got to his feet, lightly grabbing her wrist before she could get too far.

Myra turned back around, "No, I am not doing this again. You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot marry, and I will not listen to you speak — speak such — just nonsense —"

"I have a reason."

"What?"

"I said I have a reason," Aemond said, and Myra could feel his hand moving from her wrist to her hand, "You told me to give you a valid reason as to why you cannot marry him. I have one."

In truth, Myra had forgotten that she had used those words, but now the memory came flooding back to her. She felt the tenseness caused from her anger leave her body.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes soft as she looked up at him.

Aemond's gaze fell to their hands, but Myra's never left his face. He took her hand in both of his and looked at her fingernails, which had been torn apart from years of nerves. Myra did her best not to react as Aemond traced over them with his thumb.

He gingerly set her hand back down by her side, and then Myra could not stop herself from shivering as she felt as his fingertips slowly trace their way up her arm. Aemond tapped on her shoulder before twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

And then both of his hands were holding her face, and she was close to him, so close to him. Myra was breathing hard, her eyes were wide, and no one had ever looked at her the way Aemond was right then. She hesitantly grabbed onto his arms.

"Myra," he breathed out, and his eye was darting between her eyes and her lips.

She gulped, and she didn't even notice herself leaning towards him until she saw the small smile form on Aemond's face. He leaned towards her, and Myra could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest. Her breath hitched as his lips brushed against hers, and —

"Myra!"

Myra pulled away and her head snapped to the door. The voice, Jace's voice, had come from somewhere outside the library. It then occurred to her the position she was currently in, with one of Aemond's hands still holding her face, the other one gently resting on the crook of her neck after her sudden movement.

She stepped away from him, looking at him with wide eyes. She couldn't read the look on his face.

"I — I have to go," she stammered through shaky breaths, "Please — please don't follow me out."

With that, Myra quickly turned on her feet and left the library. As soon as she closed the door behind her, Jace and Baela rounded the corner.

"There you are," Jace sighed as they walked toward her, "It feels as though we have been looking for you for ages. What were you doing in there?"

"It's the library. I was — I was just, uh — looking at his collection. Nothing interesting, or nothing that I haven't read, I mean," Myra said, holding her hands behind her back as she nervously picked at her nails, "Where's Rhaena?"

"She's still in the Hall. They just brought out dessert and she didn't want to miss it," Baela told her, looking her up and down, "Are you alright? You look bothered —"

"I am fine. What's for dessert?" Myra asked, walking past them and down the hall where they came from.

Jace and Baela shared a confused look before following her, turning the corner just before Aemond left the library.

•⋅•⋅•

It had been two months since then, and to say that Myra thought of that night often would be an understatement. Every waking moment, she thought about what almost happened, remembered the feeling of Aemond's fingers tracing her arm, the feeling of his hands on her. In moments she found herself dazing off, she would always come back to reality with her thumb lightly brushing her lips.

Their letters didn't mention what they had almost done. In fact, their letters didn't mention much of anything. They were short, barely going over what each had done that day. Myra wondered if Aemond was thinking of it as much as she was.

He had to be, right? After all, he had been the one to initiate it. It had been his reason, the reason she could not marry Derron Borrell.

But it wasn't like she could marry Aemond. Myra doubted Rhaenyra would allow it, after everything. More importantly, Daemon would never allow it. He hated anyone who even had a drop of Hightower blood. Speaking of Hightower, Alicent would never allow it, either. If she wouldn't approve a marriage between Myra and Aegon, why would she approve one between her and Aemond?

When it came time for the tournament at Stonedance, Myra was nervous, to say the least. On the ship ride from Dragonstone to the main land, she had picked at her fingers so much that they had started to bleed. This had started happening more and more frequently ever since the first time, so she wasn't surprised, but she did feel ashamed.

It was embarrassing that the Heir Apparent, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, picked at her nails until they bled whenever she was nervous or uncomfortable. So when her nails started to bleed on the ship, she ran to her cabin and did her best to fix the damage done.

Immediately upon arriving at Stonedance, Myra was reminded of how much she hated tournaments. Rhaena, who had never been to a tournament before, wanted to see the participants before the tournament, so she and Myra, followed by Ser Carden, walked with their arms locked through the numerous amount of tents set up not too far from the jousting field. Seeing all of them putting on their armor reminded her of the violence ahead.

One good thing to come out of their walk was a nice conversation with Derron.

"It has been far too long, Princess," Derron was saying, "I am glad to see you again, as I am glad to meet you, Princess Rhaena."

"I have heard much about you, my lord," Rhaena said, a giggly tone in her voice.

"Well, how much is much?" Myra playfully questioned, trying to move past her cousin's words, "It is very good to see you again. Do you feel prepared for the tourney?"

"As prepared as I will ever be, I suppose," Derron replied, taking the gaunltet one of his footmen handed him and putting it on his hand, "I've been to a few tourneys since the one at Casterly Rock. Although, I do not know if I will see victory today."

"And why is that?" Rhaena asked.

Derron laughed slightly, "Because of Aemond Targaryen, of course."

Myra's eyes widened, "Because of Aemond? What does he have to do with your victory?"

For a moment, Myra was worried that Aemond had threatened Derron in some way or another.

"You haven't heard?" Derron questioned, slightly reeling back in surprise, "He's competing in the tourney."

This Myra found very difficult to believe. Why would Aemond be competing in a tourney? He didn't care for them, he had told her himself. It wasn't like he needed to prove himself, that was obvious by Derron's premeditated acceptance of defeat.

"No, we had not heard," Rhaena said, becoming very serious all of a sudden, "We do not find the time to talk enough —"

"We should get back," Myra interrupted, "The tourney is about to start, after all."

"Of course," Derron said, "I will look for you in the crowd."

"Good luck, my lord," Myra told him, she and Rhaena bowing their heads slightly.

"Thank you, Princess. With enough luck, I'll be granted the chance to ask your your favor again," Derron said, smiling.

Myra felt her face heat up, and she quickly pulled Rhaena away before her giggles grew too loud. They walked through the sea of tents, and Rhaena was in the middle of saying a teasing comment to Myra when the latter stopped in their tracks.

"Uh — keep going, Rhaena. I will be there in a moment, I just have to do something," Myra quickly said.

Rhaena looked at her oddly, "I can go with —"

"I do not wish for you to miss the beginning of your first tourney," Myra said, rubbing her shoulder, "Tell the others I'll be there soon, alright?"

Rhaena nodded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously before walking towards the jousting field. Myra turned to Ser Carden.

"Go with her, please. Make sure she arrives safely," Myra told him.

Ser Carden hesitantly nodded before dutifully heading after Rhaena. Myra closed her eyes and sighed. She held her hands behind her back, picking at her nails as she walked over to Aemond's tent.

He was alone, leaning back against a table and staring at a suit of armor that Myra figured was the one he was going to wear. One that he had to put on soon, as the tournament was due to start any minute now.

Myra waited by the entrance to his tent, waiting to see if he would notice her, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

"I thought you didn't give a shit about tourneys?" she questioned.

Aemond's head snapped towards her. Memories from the last time she had seen him immediately flooded over Myra. She took a deep breath, biting her lip and looking down at her feet.

"I don't," Aemond answered, pushing off the table and walking towards her, "I was just thinking of how much I did not want to do this when you found me."

"Then why are you?" Myra asked, looking back up at him.

Aemond's eye flitted between hers, a teasing smile growing on his face, "Let's just say I have something to prove."

Myra quickly decided that she did not want to question that much further, at least not now. She was grateful he had not moved too close to her, not only for the sake of her sanity, but also so that no one grew suspicious of them.

"Good luck in the tourney, Aemond," Myra told him, slightly bowing her head, just as she had done with Derron. All Aemond did was hum in response.

As Myra left the tent, but came to a stop when she saw Ser Carden waiting outside.

She felt trapped, exposed, but did her best to regain herself and began to walk again, Carden on her heels.

"I thought I told you to go with Rhaena?" Myra questioned once they were out of the camp of tents.

"I did, Princess. I made sure the Princess Rhaena arrived safely, and then I came back for you," Carden answered, clearing his throat, "It is a short walk."

He was right — it was a short walk, as they were already at the jousting field, at the entrance to the box where she would be sitting.

Myra turned to face Carden. She bit her lip, her eyes flitting between his eyes and the ground.

"I know you are no fool, Ser Carden," Myra began, picking at her fingers, "I am sure you are aware of my doings — my sneaking off, that is, and now this. I would ask you for your discretion on the matter."

At first, Carden said nothing, which had Myra worried, but then he smiled.

"My only concern is your safety, Princess. As long as you are in no danger, then I see nothing that you do."

A small smile grew on Myra's face, "Thank you, Ser."

With that, Myra entered the box, running up the stairs just as the toruney began.

As she entered the seating area, Lord Gormon Massey was already thanking everyone for coming. Myra snuck to her seat, quietly apologizing to Elinda for her tardiness. As Stonedance was where Elinda grew up and the tourney was to celebrate her father's thirtieth year of lordship, Rhaenyra had urged her to attend.

Myra sat down in between Jace and Rhaena in the front row, looking out amongst the stands full of cheering people. As Lord Massey continued with his speech, Laisa and Ellena, who were sitting behind Myra, leaned forward.

"Where were you?" Ellena asked, her voice just above a whisper.

"Rhaena wanted to see the participants before they started killing each other," Myra answered, folding her hands in her lap.

"But Princess Rhaena arrived almost ten minutes before you did," Ellena went on.

Myra turned back to look at her handmaidens, a playful smile on her face, "Can I have no secrets?"

"Of course you can," Laisa quickly said, "We were just curious, is all."

Myra hummed, turning back around in her seat. She liked that Laisa and Ellena were so comfortable with her to the point where they didn't feel the need to address her so formally. It was nice, refreshing even, to have real friends that weren't apart of her family.

"May the fortune of the Seven shine upon us all!" Lord Massey continued, the crowd cheering, "Without further ado, the games begin!"

The participants rode onto the jousting field, the sigil of House Borrell immediately catching Myra's eye. When the last man in armor came onto the field, Myra could not hold back a small laugh — Aemond looked miserable.

"What's so funny?" Jace asked, leaning towards her.

Myra did her best to regain her composure, "Aemond hates tourneys. Just look at him."

Jace did, his eyes flitting between Aemond and Myra, "How do you know that he hates them?"

"He told me," Myra said, biting her lip. She had no idea how she was going to dig herself out of this hole.

"Why would he tell you that?" Jace asked, as the herald walked onto the middle of the field.

"How many of these events have we attended where he is also present?" Myra replied, looking at him, "We have made ... small talk over the years. Tourneys was one of the topics that came up."

Jace nodded, although his eyes were narrowed. Myra knew he didn't fully believe her, so she turned back to face the jousting field.

"We are honored to have a Prince of the realm competing, the Prince Aemond Targaryen!" the herald announced.

The crowd went up in cheers and Myra watched as Aemond looked down at his hands, which were tightly gripping the reins on his horse.

"To thank him for participating, we are allowing him to choose his first competitor!"

Myra's heart dropped.

Let's just say I have something to prove, he had said. He was here to prove that Derron wasn't good enough for her in his own, twisted way. What was it that he had to her, all that time ago? Derron was too weak to be a king. This was his way of proving it. Gods, she hated him.

Aemond went down the line of competitors and, of course, he picked Derron.

"The Prince has chosen Derron Borrell, the young lord of Sweetsister!" the herald called.

The rest of the competitors left the field as Aemond and Derron got into position. They both received lanced from their squires, preparing themselves to charge.

Myra picked at her nails as her gaze flicked between the two opposite sides of the field. The only thing she could hear were her own shaky breaths and the beating of her heart.

All too soon they were charging at each other, lances raised. Myra gripped onto Jace's hand, feeling sick to her stomach.

When they collided, neither lance broke and neither seemed too shaken. They rounded to charge at one another again. When they collided again, Derron's lance broke, but he had not fallen off his horse — Aemond was unscathed. Derron grabbed a new lance from his squire, and the two rounded to charge again.

The third time they collided, Derron was knocked off his horse. Aemond came to a stop and jumped off his horse, as if he were preparing to fight. But Derron held his hands up in surrender, kneeling.

Aemond was known throughout the realm for his swordsmanship, having been trained by Criston Cole, the greatest swordsman alive. His skills were so great, it seemed, that Derron didn't even want to try and face him, even though he was four years older.

The crowd roared at Aemond's victory, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he approached the box where Myra anxiously sat.

"I would like to ask for the Princess Myra's favor," he called, holding his hands behind his back.

Myra sighed. If she wasn't a princess who had to keep up appearances, she would get up and leave. She briefly glanced at Jace, who looked furious, before turning back to Laisa, who handed her the small wreath Myra had made the night before. She stood, walking over to the railing where she looked down at Aemond, a fake, tight-lipped smile on her face.

"Good luck, Uncle. May the Seven bless you," she said, throwing her wreath down.

Aemond only nodded in response, staring at her. Myra's smile fell, and she wasn't sure whether or not she was angry at him or flustered.

Eventually, Aemond walked away, delicately holding Myra's wreath in his hands as he stared at it.

•⋅•⋅•

Aemond won the tournament, and so Myra was named the Queen of Love and Beauty.

But Myra was so angry that she couldn't enjoy the feast. All night, her face was stuck in a pinched expression, save for the times she had to speak to some lord or lady. Then, it was all smiles and kind words, but the act would drop the moment they were gone.

All through the feast, Myra could feel Aemond staring at her, as if his eye were piercing through her. She tried not to look at him, but the few times she did, it was always through a glare. Aemond, however, always had a satisfied look on his face, which just made Myra even angrier.

When the point of the feast arrived when everyone was either heavily engrossed in conversations or heavily drunk on their wine, Myra rose from her seat, walking along the wall to avoid being seen. As she left, she made sure to tell Ser Carden that she wanted to be alone, and to only come looking for her if there was an emergency. Carden nodded, a knowing expression on his face.

Myra wandered through the corridors, looking for a private place to go, knowing that Aemond wouldn't be far behind her. Eventually, she stumbled upon a small courtyard. It wasn't as private as she would have liked, but it was a pretty area, so she walked along the pathway, clasping her hands behind her back.

"Stop doing that."

Myra hadn't even noticed that she was picking at her nails again, and the fact that Aemond had caught it again made her even angrier. She stormed up to him, shoving him hard in the chest.

"You — you ridiculous — self-righteous — cunt!" she yelled. She had been spending too much time with Daemon.

"Those aren't very polite words for a Princess of the realm," Aemond replied, that stupid, teasing smile on his face.

Myra inhaled sharply, "I hate you, I hate you so much! If I could — oh, if I could —"

"You don't hate me. You know you don't," Aemond said, "Whatever you think you could do, you couldn't, and you know that, too."

Myra couldn't even think of words to say, so she just started slapping him in the chest. She hit him over and over again, at least until Aemond grabbed ahold of her wrists.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked, his condescending tone not going unnoticed.

But Myra didn't say anything. Instead, she just scowled at him. Satisfied, Aemond let go of her.

"Do you feel better?" Myra countered, "Is your point sufficiently proven?"

"That depends," Aemond began, tilting his head, "Do you still wish to marry him?"

Myra scoffed, backing away from him, "It does not matter what I wish or what I want. I have a duty to the realm, I must marry, and Derron —"

"Derron is your best option, yet he would not even fight me!" Aemond argued, stepping closer to her.

"So I should fault a man who knows his weaknesses? Who knows when to pick his battles?" Myra asked.

"He's too weak to protect you!"

"I don't need anyone to protect me!"

Aemond looked down at her, and Myra couldn't help but think he looked genuinely hurt.

"I claimed the Cannibal, the third largest dragon in the world, a wild dragon, before I had seen ten years. I have been trained by Daemon Targaryen, a greater swordsman than you will ever be," Myra stated, her voice steady, "I do not need protection, but I do need a marriage. I will not subject myself to a union where I will be miserable for the rest of my life just because you don't approve of Derron."

Aemond didn't say anything — he just kept staring at her. Myra bit her lip. It was just like their conversation at Casterly Rock.

Except he had given her a reason. But she couldn't marry him. No one would ever allow it.

She went to move past him. She didn't make it very far.

"Please," Aemond said, so quiet that Myra thought she had imagined it. It had stopped her in her tracks, and she looked back at him over her shoulder.

His back was to her, and she thought she had really made it up until he said it again.

"Please, just —" he started, turning to her.

Myra's lips parted and she inhaled sharply. His eye told her what she was hearing — he was pleading, begging her to stay.

"Tell me I'm not alone in this," Aemond said, reaching out and lightly grabbing her fingers.

"I —" Myra didn't know what do to, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," Aemond said, grabbing her fingers tighter and pulling her towards him, "I thought of you every day for six years. I waited like a dog for letters from you. I competed in a fucking tourney for you."

"That was not for me," Myra said, "That was for yourself. Do not try to spin it into some great act of lo—"

She caught herself before saying something she might regret. Aemond either didn't notice what she almost said or he didn't care. He raised his free hand, wrapping it around the back of her neck, pulling her even closer, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"For two months, all I have thought about was when I had you like this," Aemond breathed out, "I see you every waking moment. You flood all of my senses, even when you are leagues away."

Myra gulped, breathing hard. She couldn't look him in the eye, so she kept her gaze down, as if it would stop her heart from beating so fast.

His other hand was holding hers tightly now, but the one holding her face was gentle.

"Aemond, I —" Myra started, but she stopped herself.

"Tell me," Aemond urged, his eye flitting between hers, "Tell me what you want."

Myra shook her head, "It doesn't matter what I want, I —"

"What if it did?" Aemond asked, leaning closer to her, "What if it did, Myra?"

She looked up at him. She really looked at him, the sincerity in his eye, the softness in it. He was waiting, waiting for her.

Myra let go of Aemond's hand, and his eyebrow furrowed in confusion. But she was raising her hands, gently holding his face in her hands. She only hesitated for a moment before, against her better judgement, she pulled his face to hers, gently kissing him.

That was all the assurance that Aemond needed. His other hand reached up, mirroring his other hand as it wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer and kissing her hard. Her hands dropped down, curled into fists as they rested on his collarbone.

He kissed her as though he were starving, as if he were desperate for air. Whatever his problem was, Myra was the solution.

Her mind was racing. Myra had never kissed anyone before — she wasn't supposed to. She had a duty to the realm, she couldn't be doing this. Myra pulled away, gasping.

"What do you want, Myra?" Aemond asked, leaning down, holding her face so that she had to look at him, "What do you want?"

He made it seem so simple. So she grabbed his face again, pulling him back to her. Again, Aemond kissed her fiercely. It was all so much, and Myra had no idea what she was doing. She did her best to try and follow Aemond and try not to think about how ridiculous he thought she was.

Aemond suddenly pulled away, and Myra's brow furrowed, but then her eyes immediately widened in surprise as he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her neck. This was all so new, so unexpected, and all Myra could do was grip onto Aemond's shoulders as she took deep, open mouthed breaths.

And then there were voices coming from down the hall. Myra and Aemond's heads snapped towards the direction where they came from. If Myra had known what they would be doing, she would not have chosen the very open courtyard.

Aemond pushed Myra against a wall, caging her in, trying to hide her from whoever was coming down the hall.

Myra should have been worried. She should have been worried that whoever came down the corridor saw her, that her reputation would be tarnished forever, she would have to be displaced as heir. But she was looking up at Aemond and, Gods, he looked beautiful.

"Only drunk lords," Aemond sighed, looking down at his feet, "Only drunk lords wandering. Myra, I —"

Aemond stopped talking when he looked at her. One of his hands moved to hold her face, and Myra couldn't help but lean into his touch.

"I'll write to you, where to meet me," he told her, his thumb caressing her cheek.

Myra's brow furrowed, her chin jutting out slightly, "What?"

"Look out for my letter," was all he said, a teasing smile on his face.

Then he bent down and kissed her, but not as he had before. Before he had kissed her with a hunger, an uncontrollable need, but now he kissed her as if she were glass that could break with only the slightest movement.

"We should go back," Aemond said once he had pulled away. Myra nodded, unable to speak.

Together, they headed back to the Hall, Myra heading in first, Aemond not long after, both of them going back to their seats, unnoticed.

────── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──────

WRITTEN: september 2024
WORDS: 5,606

AUTHOR'S NOTE! i'm very nervous to publish this because i'm going to be very honest, i do not have much kissing experience, but i did my best. it genuinely took me like three or four hours to write that because i kept getting embarrassed?? i don't know but if it's written poorly i'm sorry i'm just a girl

sorry it took so long to get this chapter out!! i am a college student and i have other things going on with life. my go was to get this chapter out asap so it is unedited, so please let me know if you notice any mistakes!!

i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! if you like this story and hate waiting so long between chapters i have a tiktok account where i post edits and stuff you can check that out :)