The Silver Dragon | Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 39: The Small Council

Arianwyn was snoring slightly, and Aemond thought there had never been a sweeter sound.

The sun was already mostly risen, but still, she did not stir. Her head was thoroughly planted in her pillow, and every blanket they had was piled atop her.

Aemond had been awake for some time, his body finally reacclimating to his usual routine after several days of disruption. Some of it his own fault, some of it hers. It had, of course, helped that he slept so soundly.

How could he not have, after all, they did when they returned to their rooms?

He had made quite the feast of Arianwyn.

Several times over, until she writhed on the sheets, unable to form words through her pleasure. Aemond had been content to finish himself off, not wanting to push her beyond her limits. But as soon as she cracked opened her eyes and saw his own hand reaching for his cock, she forbade him.

She had tried to raise herself on top of him, to ride him as she had before, but her arms were too weak after so many releases. Instead, she simply spread her legs and commanded him to "use his wife as the gods intended."

The memory heated Aemond's blood, but he stopped his mind from pondering too much about resuming where they had left off. Aegon would never shut up if he saw Arianwyn limping through the halls of the Holdfast.

Instead, he was content to slip his hand beneath the blankets to trace Runes onto her back. Mostly those with healing properties, for he knew she would likely be sore this morning, and her head must ache from all the wine she had drunk with Aegon. But as always, he punctuated every few Runes with their favorite.

Two lines, crossing in parallel. Each end split, reaching for the others, but never quite touching.

Arianwyn moaned.

Loudly.

It was a far different sound than she had made the night before. Not a moan of pleasure, but that of a person who awoken to find their body had become their enemy. Perhaps it was a good thing she was hungover. Now she would blame Aegon for her woes, and not her husband.

Aemond smiled as he trailed his fingers up her back to cup her head and turn her to him. Her silver eyes were bleary and only just opened, leaving her squinting in the dim light. With clumsy motions, she traced his face with the tips of her fingers.

"You..." she murmured accusatorily, pressing on the tip of his nose as she began to pout. "You would not dance with me..."

"Aria," he scolded, pulling her closer and kissing her gently, not to start anything, simply to wake her up. "But what I did do was better than any foolish court dance, surely?"

He felt her smile against him and her cheeks flush with warmth. Arianwyn feeling warm was a new sensation, one he could never get enough of. He thought that, perhaps, it was an even better feeling than the usual chill of her skin, but then she brought one of her hands out from beneath her pile of blankets and pressed against her chest, and he knew. The cold would always be more thrilling.

"Mmm, perhaps," she mused, lazily kissing the marks she had left across his neck. "But we shall never really know the answer unless you actually dance with me!"

As she began to laugh, Aemond did too. A rich, deep sound echoing right into her ear, causing her to flinch slightly.

"For your sake, I will stop there, my love," Aemond sighed as he rose from the bed and approached the dressing room door, ready to summon Kirin and Elsie to start the morning. "I won't train this morning, but we should dress. We are bound to be summoned today for one reason or another. But of course, that is only if your headache will allow it."