— 𝓐𝐥𝐲𝐬 .

Aemond held her gaze as if he meant to wrest the truth from it by force alone. The touch at his cheek might have soothed a gentler man, but it only seemed to draw his temper tighter, refining it into something colder, sharper. His jaw flexed beneath her fingers, —

the  fabric  of  your  flesh,  pure  as  a  wedding  dress,  until  i  wrap  myself  inside  your  arms,  i  cannot  rest.

i am all mouth， with teeth like kindling． do not kiss me before you know this． i am all hunger， all restraint ﹠ poised bones， coiled spine， patient spring．

Aemond did not recoil from her touch, though the heat in his chest still burned like dragonfire barely kept beneath the skin. His single violet eye lowered to the hand resting against his breastplate before lifting again to meet hers. —

cannibalism as a metaphor for love is never enough i want to feed someone pomegranate seeds like hades fed persephone．

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ His fingers hold more than he cares to admit, not with adornment of rings alone, but years of stained crimson splattered over every inch. Heʼs held steel, wielded it in response and defence where words of exchange may have be sufficient. — ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀