ℒove always wakes the dragon (Aemond x OC)

The Master of Whisperers

The empty stable is an unnerving sight — the stalls are wide open, the ground scattered with hay, darkness seeping into every corner. There is no reason for anyone to stick around in a setting so eerie. It would be much more reasonable for Lord Larys to go back to the castle and wait patiently for the guards to bring him his horses back. But a man on the run lacks patience — and so does Lia's anger. It tempts her to reach for the dagger, it's a bothersome whisper in the back of her head: he is a liar, dangerous and cruel, he deserves it. Only, she knows that anger is a poor advisor, a messy one. So Lia instead reaches for a torch on the wall and takes it to go further into the stable, following the sound of measured steps.

Lord Larys pays her no attention at first, pacing in the opposite direction. It's almost funny how different he looks, his menacing nature gone along with the daylight. Only a day ago he posed an implicit threat, now he looks like just another man.

He doesn't expect to see Lia — she can tell by how he flinches slightly when he turns and notices her, his hand tightening around the cane.

"Didn't think I'd see you here this late, Lady Lia."

"I can say the same about you, Lord Larys. Why would anyone want to leave at night, I wonder?"

"I am needed back at home, it is a matter of great urgency, " he's a bit irritated by her question but oblivious to the possibility of her knowing the truth.

"Would said urgency come from your desire to escape punishment?" Lia is looking straight at him, her voice cold, "For paying someone to set a whole building on fire, I mean."

There's some sick satisfaction in watching his facial expression change into a startled one. It's the ample confirmation of his wrongdoings; still, he tries to act incredulously.

"I have no clue what you are talking about," he brushes it off, a sly smirk grazing his mouth. "An accusation so severe must only come with some very strong proof."

"I doubt Blood would sign any kind of agreement," Lia notes, her tone not relenting one bit.

"Whoever that is, he sounds smart," he is enjoying their back-and-forth, "But I don't think we've ever met. I am sure I would've remembered that."

"Not that I don't find you trustworthy, Lord Larys," she obviously means the opposite, "But his description of you was so clear, it sounded like you surely met."

"If only we could ask him," Larys drawls and gives her a triumphant look, shamelessly sneering.

Before his words can spark her anger, before he can come up with another taunt, Lia realizes: he doesn't know. He has no confirmation that Blood is dead and that knowledge alone gives her the leverage she needs.

"Well, me and him talked plenty," Lia twirls the torch with purposeful negligence, and he tenses up. "But I guess you will soon find out what exactly he wants of you. You do plan on bringing some guards with you, right? I wonder how many he'll take out before he gets to you."

The premature glee melts off his face as quickly as a piece of ice would melt on fire. Lord Larys scrapes for the remnants of his self-control. "Not one of my acquaintances goes by that name and —"

"We both know it's a lie," she cuts him off, "And it's just the two of us so I see no point in wasting time on pretense. Blood is well-acquainted with you, although he didn't seem happy about it."

His face goes pale in the dim lighting. A twinkle of trepidation is evident in his green eyes. "He has no reas— He wouldn't lay a hand on me," Larys replies tersely.

"You mean, the man who set an orphanage on fire does have some morals? Well, if you say so."

She can almost see him going through options in his head — until he latches on to one. His gaze flares up with thinly veiled conceitedness.