ℒove always wakes the dragon (Aemond x OC)

Blood-stained (part 1)

The girl with fire-colored hair is still on Aemond's mind when he gets to his chambers after training. He went too hard on Criston, on himself today, and a few falls he took will undoubtedly bring bruises onto his skin in the morrow. And yet the reckless hits, the frazzling bout, the aching of his limbs do nothing to help him get Lia out of his head — she's a seed that grew roots overnight, and his hands are no tools for gardening.

His pensiveness is a veil on his vision, and he walks into his bedroom without looking around. He catches the smell first: fruity, sour, not something he likes. But he knows who definitely does.

"Are you lost? Your room is on the other end of the floor," Aemond grumbles.

"With how long it took you to come back, I feared you got lost on your way," Aegon replies from his bed, his head in the middle of it, legs hanging over the edge.

"Now that I allayed your fears, will you consider leaving me alone?"

"Well, aren't you talkative today."

"Any other observations you'd like to share?" Aemond sneers.

"What is it that you always say? I don't give a shit about tourneys," Aegon quotes him with a mocking tone. "Maybe you should start? So you can finally train with someone other than that old dog who clearly poses no threat to you anymore."

"Are you volunteering? Haven't seen you training in a while, I am sure it will be —"

"I believe I am not your type," his brother cackles. "Since you train with ladies now."

Agitation clambers down Aemond's spine and his face feels hot, and he doesn't even know why would he be embarrassed about it but he is.

"Who told you?"

"Oh, if anyone told me, I would've laughed in their face. So imagine my surprise when I saw it with my own eyes. What a spectacle!"

"You mean to say you got wasted and passed out in the yard again?"

"You are not very skillful at avoiding topics you don't like," Aegon remarks, his voice losing the joke-like undertone for a second.

"Never asked for your advice on how I should talk," Aemond acts busy with polishing his sword.

"You may want to change your mind. A woman approaches you — and you decide to nearly kill her? That's hardly a good first impression."

"I don't care."

"Bullshit," Aegon immediately calls him out on it.

When Aemond casts a glance at him, the older brother tilts his head but his gaze stays clear — and they both know that he is right. Even when he's drunk, he's got that perspicacity that Aemond can't deny.

"Don't count on me following her around, I have better things to do with my time," he assures.

"Luckily, I do not," Aegon rolls on his bed, closer to the edge of it, closer to his brother. "I actually ran into her this morning, we had a lovely conversation."

"And I should know of it why exactly?" the one-eyed prince looks away, and the polished blade gleams at him — an obvious sign that he should stop his pointless play pretend.

"She told me you are the worst person she's ever met. I did try to persuade her otherwise but couldn't name a single redeeming quality of yours so...," Aegon doesn't bother hiding the mirth in his voice, the wide grin spreading on his face at the made-up story.

"Your breath stinks of wine," Aemond declares with a huff.

"And you smell like sweat," the blond talks back, getting up. "Taking a bath would be —"