For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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T W E N T Y - T H R E E
Eternally Immortal she Return to me ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Daella waited anxiously until nightfall and waited a little longer still, not wanting to appear too eager when she came knocking on Aemond's door. Already standing halfway in the secret corridor, she checked her room for the last time. She had put some of her pillows under the covers, giving the impression of a sleeping figure as long as you kept your eyes squinted, and she had drawn the canopies around her bed. Pushing the heavy door close, Daella fiercely prayed that nobody would enter her room this night.
Smoothing down the skirts of her dress, she began her walk in the direction of Aemond's chamber. Over the hallway, it was a short distance, but the corridors twisted at every single turn, making the stroll a good couple of minutes long. When Daella had finally reached the door she knew she needed, she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what the etiquette was. She could knock, of course, but the walls isolated just about any sound and so she might stand there, unnecessarily hurting her knuckles for a very long time. At last, she decided to pull open the door and hope that Aemond wasn't doing anything secretive, or rather, more secretive than he usually did.
"I had almost begun to fear that you would not show up," Aemond said, smirking in her direction. He was sitting lazily on the edge of his bed, his hands placed behind him as he leaned back and took in her appearance. Letting out a dismayed tut, he pushed himself from the bed and walked in the direction of his closet. "Did you really forget a cloak?"
Frowning, Daella looked down and realised, that in all her preparation to not come across as too desperate, had totally forgotten about one of the most essential things when one left the castle in secrecy. She smiled sheepishly, feeling her cheeks turn red from embarrassment. "I can run back to my chambers quickly."
"No need," Aemond muttered quietly, pulling something out of his closet.
Unceremoniously, he threw it in Daella's direction, who just about caught it as it landed in her face. When she pulled it down, she was not surprised to see the smirk on Aemond's face and resisting the urge to make a not-so-nice comment, she pulled the cloak over her shoulders. It was obviously too big for her, the hem dragging over the floor and the rest of the fabric covering her entire body. Her cloaks were tied together with separate cords, but Aemond's had a clasp that Daella deemed needlessly complex. Struggling with the metal three-headed dragon, she let out a sigh of frustration.
Suddenly feeling a pair of hands on hers, Daella bit her lip and looked away. She let her hands fall to her sides, her skin tingling as though Aemond's hands had scorched it, and waited patiently until he had secured the cloak. All the while, she could feel his eye burning on her face, but she would not grant him the satisfaction of looking up. Besides, she was afraid she would get lost in his gaze, something she kept catching herself at more and more often with the passing of every day.
