In the Embrace of Green Flame

TWELVE

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣୧‿︵‿︵

Vaella ventured into the moonlit gardens, her steps light and hesitant as she moved through the winding paths. The night air wrapped around her like a cloak, tinged with a bittersweet scent that mirrored her conflicted emotions. The garden, usually a sanctuary of tranquility, now seemed to pulsate with anticipation, as if holding its breath for the impending encounter.

Her eyes darted through the moonlit expanse, searching for any sign of Aemond's presence. And there he stood, against the backdrop of the night, leaning against a weathered marble pedestal. The pale glow of the moon highlighted the sharp contours of his face, casting shadows that danced across his troubled features. His stance was rigid, his gaze distant, lost in a realm of thoughts she couldn't penetrate.

Vaella approached him cautiously, her footsteps barely audible on the soft ground. The moon's gentle light painted his features with a silver sheen, accentuating the angles of his face and the subtle lines of worry that etched his brow. As she neared, she could see the tension in his jaw and the distant look in his eye.

"Aemond," she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you alright? You haven't returned to the feast."

Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Vaella's with a guarded intensity. The warmth that had once embraced her now seemed replaced by a cold detachment that sent a shiver down her spine. The distance between them felt like an insurmountable chasm, widening with every passing moment.

"I am fine," he replied curtly, his voice slicing through the night air like a cold blade. Gone was the tenderness she had felt earlier, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to the harsh reality of his indifference.

The sting of his coldness pierced her heart, but Vaella refused to let despair consume her spirit. Summoning her strength, she closed the gap between them, her eyes never wavering from his troubled countenance. Her voice trembled with a mix of hurt and defiance.

"Why must you torment me?" she implored, her words laden with the ache of unspoken yearning. "One moment, you draw me close, and the next, you cast me aside like a forgotten insect. I don't understand why."

Aemond's gaze remained unyielding, his indifference an impenetrable fortress. He offered no explanation, no solace to her wounded heart. The silence hung heavily between them.

"Why must you torment me?" she repeated, her voice filled with frustration.

"I have no desire to torment you," he finally responded, his tone devoid of empathy. "You overestimate the significance of my actions. They were fleeting moments, nothing more."

"Please, we both know you don't mean that," she retorted, her finger pointing directly at his chest, emphasizing her point. "You wouldn't have attended the feast if you felt nothing. I would not constantly find you lingering wherever I go, and I know for a fact that you would despise any man I show the slightest interest in."

Aemond's eyes flickered with a mix of resignation and exasperation, but still, he maintained his stoic demeanor. His jaw tightened, and a flicker of emotion crossed his face before disappearing as quickly as it had come. His voice, when he spoke, was laced with an undercurrent of weariness,"You may look like a Targaryen, but the truth remains that you are a bastard girl."