𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 | 𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

«The way to man's heart lies through a good relationship with his mother. Even if his mother is mentally unstable, religious backstabber, who hurts everyone, including herself...»

— From Drusilla Tyrell's memoirs.

•

Despite Aemond fears and uncomfortableness that came from untrust and preference to loneliness, sleeping with Drusilla on one bed ended up being not worrisome at all. In fact, when he woke up, she already wasn't in their chambers, and it surprised Aemond how quiet this woman was that didn't wake him up; him, who flinches from the smallest sounds.

The breakfast was no less quiet. This time everyone seemed too sleepy and tired to make big talks like yesterday, and it was just Drusilla and Aegon, who were buzzing with unending energy.

After that, Aemond left for training, and they met only in the afternoon, when he was on his way to return back to the castle, finding Drusilla sitting under the tree, eyes closed.

'My Prince,' she muses as she notices his presence. 'I assume you are returning from your training?'

Aemond nods.

He already plans to make an excuse and leave, when the understatement of the fact that despite all agreements they will need to share life, hits him. Life is a long thing, even for Targaryens. And sharing it with someone means that they should communicate, because Aemond doesn't want to be like his father, indifferent and cold towards a woman, who made nothing bad to him. So, it probably means that nodding and humming shortly and leaving her alone everytime is not a right scenario to work this out.

But lately he is too lost, blurry mind and unpleasant thoughts bothering him.

All he can think about, no matter how hard he tries to forget, is Irellea. And thus, it feels like a betrayal from him, to be fond of Drusilla, though he understands that it means nothing—that there is nothing between them.

'Would my betrothed like to join me on my way back, perhaps?' He asks after a solid minute of them, glaring at each other numbly.

Drusilla is surprised, when she stutters an agreement as he holds out his hand to help her to stand up.

'Is it too bold to ask to see your training next time?' Lady Tyrell suddenly blurts out.

'I didn't know that you are the type of person to be shy of her own boldness,' Aemond parries, huffing a little bit.

Drusilla rolls her eyes.

'Oh, shut up,' she mumbles. 'Genuinely, though. It might be uncomfortable to train under prying eyes, but I can't help but to be curious. Augustus is a great soldier, I like watching him spar with his friends, but I assume your fighting styles are completely different from him.'

It surprises him how often Drusilla mentions her brother, with such a light intonation. Aemond wouldn't dare to assume that it is possible to be in a good relationship with elder brothers. Though, he also understands that it is quite hypocritical of him to act astonished - his relationship with Daeron, despite a big distance and falling out was never considered a bad one. Not a close one either.

'Is fighting is one of the many things you are interested in?'

Drusilla shrugs.

'I like watching. Not fighting. I actually despise it, the physical fights and wars. Ugly creation of people,' her eyes grow dark for a second, and then she blinks. 'I apologise. I get carried away. So? Is it okay for you?'

'Lady Tyrell, I am the second son of the King. Prying eyes is something I am used to too. You are my guest.'

'Used to doesn't necessarily mean that you are comfortable with it, my Prince,' she says suddenly, raising her head to look at him properly. It catches his breath, her eyes. How can something so beautiful be so hollowed and raging at the same time? And why does it makes him like it even more? 'Sometimes, we are getting used to bad, disturbing things.'