C U R I O S I T Y | Aemond Targaryen

S E V E N T E E N

Cordelia's P.O.V.

"Can I see your tattoo?"

I speak up with a timid gaze from remembering how he reacted last time I demanded to see it. Last time I asked him, I obnoxiously yanked and pulled the collar of his shirt to see the ink on his back. Which resulted in him throwing a fit and leaving to spend the rest of the night in his room like a grouchy old man.

However, this time differs from the last time because this time he's freely allowing me to ask him anything I want. I've gotten a handful of short, but honest, answers out of him since he first suggested I ask questions about him to make myself feel more comfortable about living here. Though, this question feels different since it's a yes or no question and he always says no to those kinds of questions.

Then again... I have noticed he's been saying no to me a lot less since Daeron's first baseball game of the season.

Aemond stares at me for a moment in a way that makes me think I'm amusing him, but half the time I feel like I am amusing to him even when I do nothing. His gaze is heavy on my face, like he's reading a book and he's impatiently wanting to know how it ends. After a long second of my question hanging in the air between us, Aemond's lips break into a roguish smirk and he glances away from me with a glint in his eye.

Then, in a heartbeat, Aemond turns on my bed so his back is facing me and my breath catches from realizing he's answering my question without saying a word. Lifting a hand over his head, he grabs the back of his shirt and drags it up his body to take it off for me. My gaze travels down his body as his shirt gets higher and higher up to expose his back.

When Aemond slips his shirt over his head and off his body, he leisurely tosses the fabric on my bed and over some of my books. Without realizing it, I fiddle with the tip of my pinky finger as I drink in the ink on his bare back. Sucking in a breath with a blush spreading on my face, my eyes admire the tattoo as I scoot closer to him on my bed from behind.

"A dragon?" I mutter into the silence while his back is on display for me. Titling my head and frowning with a crooked smile, I ask softly, unsure if I'm being rude or not. "Why a dragon?"

The dragon tattoo covers his entire back; it begins at his neck and ends at his waistline. It's entirely black with all sorts of patterns and skillfully detailed, down to the very last dragon scale. The dragon's body is in the center of his back and over his spine while the wings cover the back of his ribs.

"Dragons are the symbol of my family. Of the Targaryens." Aemond explains why the only tattoo he has is a dragon. Letting my eyes follow the lines of the dragon wings, I listen as he informs me in a lazy tone. "The symbol of Iron Throne Enterprises is a three-headed dragon."

Lifting my eyes to the head of the dragon, I suddenly recall seeing a three-headed dragon logo at several places in King's Landing. The symbol is on buildings, on our campus, and on a few products I've bought in stores. I know the Targaryen family is a powerful dynasty in Westeros, but sometimes I forget just how significant they are since I live with three of them.

They sure don't act like important people when at home.

Daeron will leave the bathroom door open without thinking when he really needs to pee. Aegon will get so absorbed in his video game that he'll forget to eat or go to bed for the night. If his brothers aren't irritating him, Aemond usually makes tea and hangs out in the livingroom with a book.

Behind closed doors, the brothers do not treat each other or themselves like an influential family in Westeros. For this reason alone, I have to keep reminding myself that they are when we're home, but I need no reminder when in public with them. I see the glances, gawks their way from strangers and how the atmosphere shifts when they enter a room.