salt inbox

[rakta]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
LAURALAE

text ❖ audio ❖ video

Comments

[provoke]

[ his beloved wife gives him the grace to speak his mind at his liberty, and once more he is struck by her character — the sweetness of her, unwarranted in aemond's eye when she turns it upon him. he deserves love, and he deserves adoration. he knows this. he is just as worthy as any. yet it surprises him every time when he grasps for affection and finds it given easily, yielded to him simply by his asking.

he does not question it. he is deeply fond her, carries a great affection for her. is this what love is? ]

I... You know that I do not keep you to promises of faithfulness. I do not ask you to keep only to our bed, not when you have made lovers of others before I. And you know of my blood, our relations. We marry family to family. Sister to brother, niece to uncle.

I am no different. I have lain with my blood, dear wife. Do you mislike it?

[rakta]

[ Does she mislike it?

She has no kin of her own left, to lie with or to hate, no real brother nor sister nor uncle. She has no family save the one she has made for herself here, and she cannot help thinking of those that don’t to her mind so swiftly. Halsin, who calls her little sister as he touches her, Armand, who is as close as any might come to kin, Matthew, who she would’ve called such. Even Marazhai who calls her cousin, who she enjoys burning with her hands.

She thinks of how it feels to share her heart and body and mind with them… Truly, ca she fault Aemond for tradition, for his desires, when she is so victim to it herself? It is his custom, and he smells pleased, looks content despite the sharp edge of blood and the bitterness of the consummation. How could she take such a joy from him? ]

I do not.

[ Shifting forward, leaning in, careful of her touch as ever, she strokes her fingertips against the sharp jut of his cheekbone. She sleeps now in lace gloves, protective enough that she can curl against Aemond’s body in her sleep, so that she can awaken with the heat of his skin against her own. She leans close and nudges her nose against his, an animal like show of affection. ]

It pleases you. You are happy, and you are spent. I would not take such pleasure from you, even if it did upset me. It would be cruel of me to deny your pleasures when I so easily take mine own.

you can look now

[provoke]

You will tell me if it does, won't you? If there comes a time when my interests find a place with someone you greatly abhor, I bid you tell me. I want us to have an understanding in matters such as this.

[ these are matters of the heart as much as they are of the flesh. his loyalty to his family is a fire curling under the veins that pull his blood through his mortal body, but so does his innate greed fill in the gaps along the path. he is a covetous little thing, with wants that slither along his grasping fingers, scaled and sharp and hurtful to anyone unused to his nature.

dragons are not easy creatures. they do not settle peacefully, and they do not coil around the hearth like meek, soft-mouthed things. lauralae understands this. she has understood from that moment when they sat together on the exposed earth and read under a setting sun; she has understood from the moment aemond asked her to place her cursed hands on his skin.

it's only been months since then. not even a full turning of a year since his arrival, never mind that he's turned an age here that expects a child to mark its passing. it's been months, and now here she is, wearing his ring and giving him her permission, saying with her private phrases that she understands.

his blood calls to its own, aemond would never deny this. but his heart calls to her heart, too — isn't this what love is supposed to be?

even aegon the conqueror split his heart in half between fire and blood, in the end. ]

Perhaps one day we might share him in our bed, if you'll welcome it.

[rakta]

I will use my words with you, Aemond, if anything dissatisfies me.

[ The truth of the matter is this: there is little Aemond might do to displease her.

Are there people in this mansion she dislikes? She cannot think of one to name them, not at the moment. Instead, she can name only those she cares for, those that mean the most to her. Friends, kin, those that are the most dear to her heart - and perhaps she might be more sour, to share them with Aemond, but only for a short, selfish moment. She has not had to share in decades, had not been around anyone enough to care for them, so it would take her heart a moment to be calmed.

And now, she has Aemond, who is devoted to her in his own way, who understands her, accepts her, wants her, time and time again, and it makes her yearn. To see his smile, his joy, his happiness... How could she be anything but pleased to know him? How could she want anything but him, desire anything but him? Her heart is truly in his hands, and she has no better words for it.

Aemond is a dragon, and she has learned to temper them. She speaks their tongue, she knows their habits, she had studied them - could be one, if she desired. It is not so easy to say that she loves him, but her heart is so very captured, and she does not yearn to have it returned. She makes no demand of him, and in turn he on her. They know each other too well.

They are wild creatures. They are dragon and wolf, monster and monster, in the eyes of others. Together? They are loved. Is that not enough.

Lips curling, just a little, she steals a kiss from his mouth, warm and content. ]

Would you survive it, if he did?