[ in truth aemond has never considered himself given to such courtships. his marriage will be arranged for him, same as his betrothal would have been if not for the war; it is the way of things, the way of his life as a prince of the realm. princes rare marry for love, after all. even viserys, who found a great love with his ever-sainted aemma arryn, was betrothed to her first at a sturdy sturdy nine-and-ten to her three-and-ten. rhaenyra followed quickly, and so beloved thanks to their mutual affection for one another.
aemond thought he might resent such a love. but with lae in his arms like this, warm and real against him, he thinks he might change his might about asking for marriage as a love match. so what of her darker colours? she is blood of the dragon, she is a dragon herself, more than his baratheon woman could ever dream.
he leans into her gloved hand, then leans into her, kissined her again and again (and again) until his breath catches thin in his throat. his hands cannot stop their wandering along lae's waist and up her back, winding and combing fingers through her hair. ]
My lady. My beautiful dragoness, [ he sighs against her lips. ] May I touch your skin?
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aemond thought he might resent such a love. but with lae in his arms like this, warm and real against him, he thinks he might change his might about asking for marriage as a love match. so what of her darker colours? she is blood of the dragon, she is a dragon herself, more than his baratheon woman could ever dream.
he leans into her gloved hand, then leans into her, kissined her again and again (and again) until his breath catches thin in his throat. his hands cannot stop their wandering along lae's waist and up her back, winding and combing fingers through her hair. ]
My lady. My beautiful dragoness, [ he sighs against her lips. ] May I touch your skin?