The Grey Wolf & The Golden Dragon | Aegon Targaryen II

Whispered Words, A Change of Fate

Aemond

"Fucking bastard thinks he can—Fuck—that little—"

"Aemond!" Elin had repeated his name half a dozen times before he blinked down at her, finally realizing she was there beneath him. To his relief, she only sounded slightly irritated with the fact that he had been snarling the words with every thrust into her.

"I understand you're angry, but can you not rant about your nephews the entire time you are fucking me?"

Aemond let out a strangled sound of exasperation, dropping his head against her shoulder as he eased out of her. He wouldn't have been able to climax, anyhow, not with the anger coursing through his veins like dragonfire. With an irritated groan, he threw himself onto his back, glaring up at the canopy as if it were going to offer him some kind of counsel.

Elin rolled onto her side, propped herself up on her elbow, and stroked her finger over the planes of his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

"No," he snapped, shoving her hand away. He knew he wasn't being fair; nothing that happened at supper was his fault, but he was spiraling, lost in a sea of anger and emotion he couldn't control. Instead of pulling him from the storm, Elin's touch felt heavy, an anchor wrapped around his torso and dragging him deeper.

"Aemond...'" she urged softly, refusing to allow him to push her away, something he resented and was grateful for all at the same time. "Come on," she breathed, stroking her fingers through his long, silver hair. "Let me braid your hair, and you can talk. I'll just listen..."

The last thing Aemond wanted to do was talk, but Elin had a way of bringing about feelings in him he didn't recognize, and he found himself nodding in compliance and sitting up. Elin stacked the pillows up in a pile, ensuring she could reach the top of his head when she sat upon them. "Tell me everything..." she urged, pulling his hair back and away from his face and dividing it into sections.

"Rhaenyra has been handed everything. Even when I was young, I remember my father fawning over her constantly. When she was a girl, the King even gave her the opportunity to choose a suitor for marriage. Even that, she flouted." Elin remained silent as he continued, "She was seen fucking Daemon in a brothel when she was supposed to be looking for a husband, if what my mother says is true. So father decreed she would marry Laenor Velaryon and that would be the end of it. It wasn't enough, no, she had to sire three children outside of wedlock."

"You and Jace are nearly the same age... You never got along?" she asked. Aemond snorted derisively.

"How could we? Our father gave all three of the bastards dragon eggs, a gift he never afforded any of his other children. Aegon, Helaena, and I all had to claim dragons when we were adolescents."

"How cruel of him..." she replied, sectioning the right side of his hair, and beginning to braid it back.

"They never let me forget it, either," he sneered, "Those fucking shits teased and tormented me every chance they got. And when I finally did claim a dragon, they attacked me for it." Elin continued to braid his hair, listening intently to his story.

"Lucerys took my eye, and yet, the entire conversation, afterward, revolved around me calling my nephews bastards. My mother was the only one to demand justice. Even when Rhaenyra suggested they question me with force, my father hardly blinked an eye. His perfect daughter can do no wrong in his eyes."

"No wonder your mother hates me..." she commented idly, tying a cord around the end of his braid and reaching for the other side of his head, "Her poor, defenseless baby boy..." Aemond turned to glare at her, softening when he saw the gentle look on her face. She wasn't taunting him.