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I wake in the early morning, alone, needing to pee. I pad into the bath area, lift my skirts, and do my business in the copper basin left there for the purpose, shame heating my face even though I am alone. It is one of the most humbling aspects of being human and a Queen. I know we're not Gods, but it would be nice to not have to go to the bathroom in a copper pot that the servants pour out the windows.
As I make my way back to the bedroom area, I see Aemond rousing from his sleep, wincing. I watch as he makes his way onto the bed, tucking one arm behind him, looking the picture of ease itself. He closes his eye again, saying, "If the servants see us sleeping apart, they will take the news to Aegon and my mother."
"I am not afraid of your every movement, you know? You don't have to explain every inkling to me, I assure you." I say as I join him, plumping up one of the pillows that lie between us. I'm watching Aemond reaching over his head and pulling off his night-shift, throwing it to the floor in a heap and I roll my eyes. "You are very committed to making this as realistic and unbearable as possible."
"Purely self-saving, I assure you." Aemond replied, tucking his arm behind his head again.
I allow myself to glance at his now bear torso, being just as lean and muscular as his legs. I shuffle down the bed, wanting to get comfortable myself and Aemond steals a glance as well and I catch him staring at the silver scar running from behind my back to the front of my ribs.
Inclining his head, he asks, "Your dragon?"
Looking surprised he has even asked, I follow his gaze. "No, uh, a boy from where I grew up. I guess he wanted to show me a lesson being a bastard Targaryen. I've often wished it was my dragon, believe me. If it had been, probably wouldn't be lying beside you and putting you in this situation in the first place."
"Pity." Aemond said.
I narrow my eyes but tilt my head towards him. His good eye is on the side closest to me so he doesn't have to move much to see me. I wanted to say something back but just at that moment, the doors opened and the first of the servants hurried in, all of their eyes downcasted.
Clearing his throat, Aemond ripped the blankets off of himself and I semi averted my gaze as he strode purposefully out of the bedroom and into the bathroom area. His act now completed, he seemed eager to put as much distance between us as before and I couldn't be more grateful.
I throw the blankets from my own body as more servants enter the room. My maid, Diana is waiting with a blank expression on her face and I simply nod as she follows me into the bathroom just as Aemond walks out. We both avert our gazes as we pass each other but I turn for a slim second, just to make sure Diana is behind me when I see silver lines of raised healed skin littered all over his back.
Diana doesn't see it though as she urges me forward into a bath that she promises will soothe my probably aching and sore body. Sighing, I rest my head on the back of the tub, feeling already exhausted from the day.
"I know it must be painful, my Queen. The salts and herbs will help." Diana mutters as Aemond strolls back in, now fully dressed.
"I shall break my fast in my mother's chambers. I'd like to take you for a walk this afternoon if it pleases you."
I beckon him forward, whispering in his ear so Diana can't hear us. "I'd rather you feed me to Vhagar."
Aemond's eyes glinted as he pulled back to kiss me on the forehead, whispering back "Don't give me any good ideas." he leaves me with those departing words as his boots thunder heavily on the floorboards as he strode from the room, dressed in his usual black attire, his hair unbound and shining down his back.
An hour or so later, I rise from my bath and Diana is pulling a robe onto me before anyone can see me naked. I quickly dress with Diana and a few of the other maids help. I take a few more minutes just walking around the chambers that will now be mine shared and I freeze at what lay upon Aemond's writing desk against the far wall. A single folded parchment sat plainly among loose scrolls and leather-bound books, folded as if concealing precious secrets within. Curiosity overcomes discretion. I dart lightly over and snatch up the missive.
Smoothing it out, I see Aemond's furious but elegant handwriting scrawled over the page, taking up all the available space. In some places he pressed the feathers tip so angrily that the paper tore. Maella, it reads, each hateful rendering of my name like a punch to the gut.
