green lies, black hearts

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a/n - hoping to try and get more caught up on transferring the chapters over here from ao3! Thank you all for reading :)

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Shaera

Dragons were creatures of habits and hoards, and Shaera and Aemond were no different.

Reading and writing were their habits and the secluded table was their hoard—a table often scattered with papers and books and quills and ink. Any book they could collect was theirs for the taking. None ever ventured into their little abode, and none ever dared look for them behind the stack of books that changed like the tides of Blackwater Bay.

It wasn't intentional—this...this dance they started to tangle in.

Aemond simply knew that he would keep coming to the library, to this table.

Shaera simply knew that she had to keep writing, keep reading in the library, at this table.

So to them, it was mere coincidence that they sat at the same table at the same time every day for the same length.

Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes one huffed and the other rolled their eye(s). Sometimes Aemond would grow bored of his history books and with a sigh, would hold out his hand in wait for Shaera to hand him either her story or one of her botany books—he had taken to reading them more, only for the issue that he couldn't be worse than her at something. Sometimes Shaera would grow bored and would either rest her head on her arms and sleep or she would bring her embroidery loop or sometimes, she would ask Aemond questions in Valyrian about the histories of their house.

(Sometimes, he would indulge her. Sometimes, he would watch as her eyes fluttered shut, and he would tell himself to focus and leave her be, but sometimes when she sat beside him, he couldn't help but let his hand hover over her cheek, fighting to keep from brushing through her dark hair that was so unlike his own.)

(Sometimes, Shaera would tell herself not to sit beside him. Sometimes, she would do it for no reason at all other than to watch him edit her work, and sometimes, when she laid her head down, she thought his Valyrian was rather lovely, she thought that he was maybe kind in letting her rest without disturbing her, despite how hard she fought the allure of sleep when he began to speak in those low, dulcet tones.)

Some days were cordial. Some days had hints of laughter. Some days were sparring matches of bastard and prick. Some days were simple, talking about everything and nothing at all. Some days were arguments laced with mirth, some with venom, some with a tone neither dragon could parce from the other.

And some days were like today.

Odd.

"My mother wishes to see Jace and Baela wed before we return to Dragonstone," Shaera said offhand, flipping lazily through a rather thick tome on different types of herbs found in the Riverlands. She didn't know there were so many types of plants there, or in general. A tedious task. "They want grandfather to be there."

"Hmm."

Aemond didn't care much for idle small-talk on a day like today, too focused on reading a diary on the formation of Old Valyria. Sometimes, when he entered his father's chambers and saw the massive model of their ancestral home, a part of him wished to continue it. To complete it for his father. Perhaps out of a desperate want for acknowledgement. Perhaps because he thought it a good application of the histories. Perhaps because he thought he may enjoy it as he...as he enjoyed carving Shaera's dragon.

Shaera pursed her lips and she locked her fingers together, chin resting on her propped up hands. She looked at Aemond for a long moment, watching his concentration take form over his sharp features. She had learned that when he was especially interested in the subject he read about, he had a tick of the lips and jaw. One corner of his thin lips would tilt up, the other twitching longer to the side, and he would work his jaw three times in rapid succession with each page—two if he found it boring, five if intriguing. If he hated it, he would frown and his nostrils would flare before he slammed the book shut. Today, he must have been interested.