When Rhea Royce died, the noble house of Royce blamed the Rogue Prince. Daemon Targaryen was the culprit for the downfall of the House, no matter what was said. Leaving Runestone with no Lord or Lady at its helm, a decision was made to promote a min...
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DONELLA arrived at Aemond's door through one of her many secret passages throughout the Keep. They were going out tonight.
It had been Aemond's idea initially, though as the days passed he seemed less enthused about taking Donella into the city. He'd planned to take her to one of the underground fighting rings which littered Flea Bottom, but now he wasn't so sure. He had never told Donella of the specifics of the plan, so perhaps a drink or two at one of the nicer establishments would fulfil her need for adventure.
Donella, as always, came prepared for her visit. In her arms was a bundle of rags - sorry, clothes. She'd stolen them the morning prior from the servant's wash room and then had spent the day washing them and the night drying them. The lower servants of King's Landing were not known for their hygiene.
"This should fit you," She looked at Aemond through her eyelashes as she passed some of the clothes over. He picked up the tunic and pulled a face she'd never seen him wear before. Complete and utter repulsion,
"No,"
"The disguises were your idea!" Donella insisted as she held up her own ratty tunic for him to look at, "We're not going to get very far if you're out parading in your Dragon Scale armour!"
Aemond hummed, but a smile threatened to pull up on the corner of his lips, "I do not have armour made from Dragon's scales."
"Put your tunic on!" Donella hissed at him as she looked around the room for a separate room for her to change in. There was no chance of her getting away with dressing in her own room and slipping out into the corridor unseen at this time of evening. The halls were fresh with servants now. They'd be slipping through the passages to exit the Keep as well.
Aemond knew what she was doing, but decided that he wanted to fuck with her just a little bit. If he would have known a few weeks ago that he would be friends with Donella Royce, he would have thought that he'd gone insane. She had been a present face at court, but he had lost his interest in her many moons ago.
Aemond glanced down at the buttons of his overcoat as he began to undo them. Shrugging the heavy material off of his shoulders, he didn't hesitate to pull his shirt off over his head.
Donella couldn't look at him, but she also couldn't stop herself from looking at him. Which of the Gods had blessed him with such a body, and which of them was responsible for cursing her never to know what it was like to be with it? Whilst his skin was pale, it held definitions which seemed as though they were inhuman. His chest was carved and his shoulders so broad that Donella could imagine wings sprouting from the bones. Her entire face was burning.
