As I Lay Dying ━━ House of the Dragon

1.1: control

1.1 | control

The crow gives Saera a judgmental glare, beady eyes glaring at her above a crooked beak.

She glares back, the branch beneath her creaking slightly. She's perched on one of the more hidden trees deep in the Red Keep, disguised enough by the foliage that her maid, Genna, can't find her. It's one of her only hiding spots left that's not yet been discovered - everyday, she worries for the time when her list of concealed places grows thin enough that she will have nowhere left, no sanctuary beside her own bedroom.

It watches hungrily as Saera slips another piece of lemon cake into her mouth. Her sister, Alyssa, prides herself on being deceptive, but Saera feels that it requires a certain amount of skill to sneak cake away from Queen Alicent's prying eyes - or, at least, to convince someone else to do it for her.

Saera's beginning to feel that the crow is her friend. After all, it has not tried to attack her - yet - nor does it ever try to steal her cake. In return, she always leaves it a piece, as a treat. She pushes the last piece of cake toward it, but it only stares at it. Saera has never seen it eat, but she's also never found any leftover cake. Once, she pretended to leave only to sneak back and watch the cake, but the crow waited patiently, somehow knowing she was there.

"What are you doing?" A harsh voice snaps, pulling her out of her reverie. Saera spins around to locate the voice, forgetting she is perched on a thin branch on a tree, and suddenly the ground is flying towards her and the branch beneath her legs has dissolved beneath her.

She lands in a tumbled heap of layers and skirts, hearing a faint ripping sound of her skirt tearing itself, as she lands. Her hand stings, the skin red and raw, scraped off, with blood leaking from her fingers. How humiliating.

"Aren't ladies supposed to be graceful?" Aemond remarks, standing above her, his frame partially blocking out the sun.

Saera stumbles to her feet, blood filling her cheeks in embarrassment. "Aren't men supposed to be gentlemanly?" When she's standing, she's taller than him - that fact gives her enough confidence to cross her arms over her chest and scold him. She's a year older, after all. "You knocked me from my tree."

Aemond scoffs. "I didn't knock you from your tree. You fell from the tree, because you are - " he cuts himself off, perhaps deciding he can't speak to her so disrespectfully. She's not Jace or Luke, after all. Saera is his father's ward, and one of his favourites. The King would likely favour her over his own son, sad as it is. "What were you doing up there, anyway? Talking to crows again?"

His tone is ripe with sarcasm. Saera decides to ignore that last jibe, because she's mature. "I was reading."

He eyes the crumbs on her dress, the crushed piece of cake a damning stain on her innocence. She resists the urge to brush them off, knowing she'll only look more guilty. "You were eating cake."

Saera considers it. "There was cake involved."

"You're going to get fat."

"And?"

"No one will marry you."

She snorts. "I doubt that. We don't all look like you."

He rolls his eyes, shoving past her and knocking her shoulder with his own, hard enough to force her to stumble back. "You're an idiot. What were you even reading?" He spies her book lying on the ground beside them. "The Loves of Queen Nymeria?" His tone is scornful. "Sounds -"

Saera rolls her eyes, deciding to move past Aemond . . . well, being Aemond. "What are you doing here, anyway? This is my hiding place."

He snorts a laugh. "It's a terrible hiding place, I could see you from my bedroom."