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Aemond and Ellaenor are at a crowded gala, a gathering of nobles and central allies of the green faction, held to commemorate a recent war effort. Aemond has only just returned to King’s Landing after weeks away, and the time apart has been grueling and difficult.
Desperate to be near her, he uses the gathering as an excuse to position himself close. Though the true depth of their relationship remains a secret—hidden beneath layers of political necessity and prior obligations—he finds it agonizing to maintain the facade of cordial indifference around her. Only Ellaenor has overcome the emotional armor he spent years perfecting. He is entirely bound to her, and the time spent apart has left him in a relentless state of longing, his thoughts consumed by this woman who has become his weakness and his peace.
He moves closer, his imposing form towering over her short stature as usual. She has been fiddling with her long, silk coat because of the oppressive heat of the crowded area. This reveals a little glimpse of cleavage and the outline of her heavy bosom and nipples. His eye roams over her chest, lips and eyes as he struggles to hide his desire and need.
She notices and does nothing to ease his torment. This is exactly how she wants him—restrained by decorum yet wrecked with lust for her mind and body. The way her big green eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to take her from where she stands, increases his agony. This makes him restless and his cock hard, having to physically refrain from touching her. He knows she is becoming wet between her legs by the subtle mannerisms and small shifts in her body. Licking at her lips, dilated pupils, a bit off balance, tugging at her long dark curls, and a fuchsia tone spreading over her cheeks and nose betrays any attempt at her hiding her own craving.
As he stands over her, drinking her in, he wonders what will happen when they finally are alone behind locked doors, in his bed. Will she welcome his naked body between her soft thighs with comfort, overwhelmed by the relief of his safe return? He imagines her cradling him, letting him rest his head on her breasts, her fingers lovingly stroking his face and threading through his hair. Or will he immediately lift her skirts and begin devouring her, making her reach frenzied levels of ecstasy as he refuses to remove his mouth from her cunt until she is sobbing, begging for reprieve?
It will most likely be the latter. His thoughts are briefly interrupted as a tipsy attractive couple stumbles too close, Ellaenor and the other woman exchange a moment of laughter while steadying each other with playful touches. He observes her intently, a grin ghosting at his lips, as tension builds low in his body. His arousal is now impossible to ignore, his leathers tightening as he shifts to conceal the evidence.
But maybe they won’t make it to his chambers. Maybe he’ll escort her outside, feigning nonchalance, and guide her to one of their secret spots, just far enough from curious eyes and ears. Just enough time to hoist up her leg and push his fingers inside of her while sucking and biting on the delicate skin of her neck and chest. She would begin to fall apart quickly, grinding against his fingers, moaning breathlessly and unlacing his breeches so they could release together. A few measured strokes of his cock and he'd come apart in her hand.
"Ellaenor," he said, surprised by the unsteadiness in his voice. He had waited as long as he could. He had to take her.
Her polite smile graced the familiar faces around them as she played her role as the refined, soft-spoken lady of House Marwyn. Glancing at him, her emerald eyes glinted. "Yes, my love?" she whispered; her voice barely audible yet cutting through him like a dagger’s blade.
It had only been a few moons since she started calling him that, but every time the words left her lips, his black heart softened in ways he didn’t fully understand. His self-control continued slipping as fervent sensations pooled deep in his belly.
Her eyes returned to him, her brow lifting. "Aemond?" she pressed, pulling him from his daze.
He straightened, swallowing his tumultuous thoughts hard as he reached for her arm. Before he could speak further, the lively crowd began to part, all heads bowing as the king and queen entered. His hand lingered on her upper arm, his fingers brushing the fine silk of her sleeve. Though the robe’s fabric separated them, his mind wandered to the softness of her pale skin beneath, an even deeper ache rising within him.
His breath hitched as she leaned closer, the sweet scent of black cherries and the woods filling his senses.
"I almost forgot. I discovered something during your absence," she whispered, her breath on his ear. "I will need your opinion soon, my prince." Her tone was laden with mystery and her eyes were fixed on Aegon and Helaena as they greeted their honored guests.
"Hm?" His head snapped toward her so abruptly that he nearly knocked his nose onto hers.
She stifled a laugh, and prepared to speak, but the words were drowned out by a sudden eruption of praise and applause. The crowd’s attention shifted, their voices swelling in celebration as the queen stepped forward, her hands resting atop her rounded belly.
He found himself smiling alongside Ellaenor, both momentarily captivated by Helaena’s radiant happiness. She glowed with pride as she shared her news, her voice lifting with delight as she announced that the twins and Maelor would soon have a younger sibling. "The twins’ bond is so great," she said tenderly, "he oft feels left out." The sincerity in her words brought a wave of fondness over the crowd.
His eye shifted to the king, standing awkwardly beside her, clutching a small scroll as if it were a lifeline. Aegon’s expression was filled with unease, the weight of his station still heavy on his shoulders. Yet Aemond could see determination beneath the surface, the long hours spent poring over texts, the endless meetings with trusted counselors, and heeding Helaena’s quiet but firm advice.
He wished his brother could recognize his progress, the significant steps he was taking toward becoming a ruler worthy of the conqueror’s crown. It would not be a forgiving road, but for the first time in years, Aemond allowed himself hope. If the king could maintain this newfound resolve, tempered by genuine effort and guidance, he had no doubt he could rise to meet the expectations placed upon him. Time, as always, would be the ultimate judge.