Fluent Freshman - Part 19
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There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.
1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.
He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).
So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.
So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.
He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.
He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.
Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.
He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.
Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.
(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)
This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.
2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.
After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)
But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.
For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.
This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.
Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).
FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.
Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.
He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.
Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.
Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.
Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.
He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.
Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.
FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.
FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.
After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)
He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.
FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?
The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-
The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.
He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.
He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.
He is ULTRA stealth.
Romero’s gaze glides over him.
Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).
His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)
His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.
Well fuck.
He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).
He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.
He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.
He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.
He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.
He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.
He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.
He pretends to be on a phone call.
“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.
He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).
He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.
He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“
“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.
“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.
“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.
“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.
“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.
“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.
FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’
Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.
“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.
HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.
“I’d like that.” He says.
He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.
‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’
The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.
“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.
The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.
There really are some kind people in the world.
“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.
The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.
“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.
He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.
He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.
His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…
He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.
(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)
He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.
He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.
Jackson Plank.
FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.
Okay now what genius?
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.
Per your requests:
@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie
@theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit
The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.
As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?
Lillyndra it worked this time!!!
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Since the show has already shaken the books timeline and events up so much I'd love if they could walk Armand back from the multi million dollar tech bro he's sort of starting as, no more private jets, no more private islands please
I know he becomes a millionaire in queen of the damned to buy himself and Daniel luxury things/experiences/the island, but I feel like we are already starting the story here when we get introduced to him in the show, except it's a sort of mock version of the life he has with Daniel in Queen of the Damned.
The show presents an alternate history from the book that has Louis and Armand stay together after Paris, Armand and Daniels first meeting be at Daniel and Louis interview in 1973, Armand erases Daniels memories of him, Armand doesn't turn Daniel in the 80s, and Daniel ages 50 more years.
Instead of being in a relationship with Daniel, Armand has remained in his relationship with Louis in a very twisted parallel.
Instead of building a house on an island filled with cherished memories with Daniel, he built a concrete box in Dubai filled with loaded memorabilia to match his life with louis. They're surrounded by wealth and luxury, but it comes across cold and hollow.
Assume without Devi's Minion plotline from the 70s-80s happening (as far as we know), Armand would have had to adapt to the modern world, without Daniel, alongside Louis instead.
His hobbies he loved sharing with Daniel (from the book) are either absent altogether in season 1-2 or get reflected in a empty way with louis in Dubai. His interest in art, fashion, Interior decorating, technology are all very muted from the eccentric, eclectic, hyperfixations we know Armand from the books to have had.
SO in the next seasons I hope we see Armand post divorce, depression era 2, hoping around from hoarder apartment to hoarder apartment, I want filthy kitchens, wild outfits, books and movies scattered everywhere, tanks on every surface, cables wires and computers, every game system ever??
except instead of his interest being a source of happiness for him like in the book, they should make it a little self destructive.
I want him to spiral into his interest, I want him so out of his mind with self bought distractions he can't keep up with hiring staff anymore, he's unstable, he's on his own, he's on the city bus like everyone else, and trying not to think about how he's tanked his life.
I think that'd be interesting. A way to take his character from the book and twist it a little to match his current situation in the show.
Like Daniel is already a vampire now, he doesn't need to be sugar baby spoiled/swept off his feet by Armand in order to like him, Armand needs to be humbled even further, and once the false persona Armand built with Louis fades, Daniel will like him all the more for it, and possibly be the one to help him out of that low place.
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𖤓 Don't You Dare Do This Without Me 𖤓 Ch. 2
Pairing: Rhaena x Aemond
Warnings: None for this chapter
Word Count: 2.2k
Summary: Rhaena discovers what her husband flew off to do in lieu of laying abed with her...
.
Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 | Ao3
—
With careful fingers, Rhaena plucked the small parchment scroll from the page and thanked the younger boy. Closing the door behind her, she broke the seal...pale orange wax, it looked to belong to a minor house, one she scarcely recognized. The symbol of a small sun perched in the top left corner of the wax seal, a triangular etched beam beneath it.
A small noble House, but which one?
Tentatively, she cracked the seal. Allowed her eyes to begin scanning the crooked ink script, it seemed to have been written in a rush as opposed to poor penmanship. Yet as she read on…her eyes slowly widened with horror.
{Your royal Highness, Queen Consort, Rhaena Targaryen.
It is our expressed hope to inform you...}
She skimmed past the pleasantries.
{...Vhagar was seen soaring above the valley. Following the river Red Fork,
her flames were seen to have left unimaginable devastation to the small village of Oxcross,
just over the plains...}
For fucksake, by the will of the Gods...not this again!
He’s burned yet another village!
“Aemond, you blasted,” Rhaena had to catch her tongue, muttering to herself as she read on.
Fucking, Gods-
"NO, DAEMIE!! You do not eat a dragon! Dragons are not eaten by people. They chomp animals and fly! And breathe FIRE!! See! You're doing it wrong!" Aemon's squeals trailed off across the room as Rhaena still worked to digest the words written. Her eyes flickered up from the scroll only to ensure that her son's were still behaving.
At two and twenty, she'd mastered the act of multitasking motherhood and her Queenly duties.
She could see Elaya had plopped the young babe down upon the carpet with Aemon, allowing Daemion to crawl over towards the polished wood carved dragon figurines. Where he was currently attempting to gum and suckle upon one of Aemon's favourites. A little figurine of the great Black Dread himself, Balerion. Rhaena could see from the corner of her eyes that Aemon was prone to the fits of rage. Ever a particular little boy at times, surely an inherited trait, he was growing upset with the way his babe of a brother was interacting with his game.
Yet even still, all things considered, her children were safe, well cared for and soon enough they could be sent to their nursery. The time was quickly approaching for their much needed afternoon rest. It was something that they often did together after Aemon's lessons, for as much as his brother bothered him at times, he still so loved to nap with his baby brother by his side.
That, however was a thought for later, as Rhaena's pale lilac eyes couldn't help but scan over the missive once more:
{...Though a rebellion was duly squashed in the area two weeks prior, many here wonder what could have earned the King's wrath.
The devastation is immense. We beg of you, our Queen. The people are desperate, we need your interference.}
Signed Lord Rallor Lefford of the Golden Tooth.
A small inconsequential noble House to be sure, but a noble House nonetheless. It was not squarely their land that was burned, but as far as Rhaena knew the lay of that particular region of land. They would be the closest noble House to benefit from the taxes of the villagers there.
Well done, Aemond.
Fucking—class work there.
With a quick glance upon the unfurled maps left upon their rounded table, Rhaena could follow the river Red Fork and see exactly where her husband had gone. The village of Oxcross itself probably held nothing more than farmers and livestock dealers. But it was close enough to the city of Lannisport, perhaps a few days' ride away…which then made it rather close to Casterly Rock.
The Lannisters may have words for this destruction.
Then again, perhaps it was the Lannister’s own fault they’d allowed a revolt to brew right beneath their noses just a few weeks prior. In truth, Rhaena could care less about the traitorous House. They’d only sided with Aegon and the Greens to begin with, solely because Aegon was a man. And with that, they thought there was a promising future for one of their daughters to replace Helaena as Queen after she’d passed. And once that conclusion was forgone, they’d hoped to marry one of their own to Aemond as well…before he’d chosen Rhaena for himself.
They were forever reaching wretchedly above their station…
But that did not matter, her own personal feelings for House Lannister did not matter. What did matter was the realm was still working to pull itself back together after the devastation caused from the Dance of the Dragons . A rather glorious name for a war that only caused loss and pain...wasted spilt blood. And yet, here her husband was fanning the flames with unnecessary acts of force and violence.
And sure, Rhaena knew husband to be a fickle man, he could be ever so petty. Ever so cruel and unfeeling at times. The lives of those who were stationed beneath them barely interested him at all, especially the lives of the smallfolk at times. For, while Aemond had surely feigned interest in them during the war and in the aftermath of it. It was still a falsehood, time had waned and his true nature had been made evident.
If the mood struck him...he'd spill as much blood as needed to satiate the urge.
‘Ondoso se Jaes’ by the Gods , Rhaena sighed heavily to herself, all she could do was pray and hope that neither of her sons would ever grow to be the same. As unfeeling of lesser folks, as eager to douse themselves in the blood of their victims…volatile as their sire.
Although, as she made her way towards the chaise by the fire she couldn't ignore the intensifying agitation coursing through her eldest son at that very moment. He'd crawled over to Daemion only to shove him rather unnecessarily as he snatched the Balerion figurine directly out of the babe's hand. Clearly fed up with his favoured figure being used as a teething toy. Only the moment he had done it, her chubby little babe took a moment to observe his empty hand before bursting into tears. Screaming bloody murder as his little face turned red, a flood of tears tumbling down his pudgy cheeks.
Lovely.
Just lovely.
Everything just kept piling on.
"Aemon," Rhaena had groaned her son's name as she moved towards them, displaying her maternal instincts as she placed the missive down upon the mantle before reaching down. Cradling her youngest to her chest, securing his cheek against her bosom as she rocked him gently, hoping to calm his emotions with the warmth of her embrace. Although, the small weight of her babe pressing against her chest, only helped to remind her of the sore pressure. She was sure her breasts were growing dangerously full yet again, within the hour she would leak through her gown. Though that was an issue to handle later on, for now, she pressed warm kisses to the youngest son’s forehead. Swaying him as she eyed her eldest, "you cannot strike your brother when he annoys you so, we've been over this. You must be far more gentle with him, he's still only a babe, you could really harm him."
A sound amount of chastising as far as Rhaena was concerned, though it would seem her three-year-old took her words quite personally. He'd started to pout, his brows furrowing as he peered up towards his mother. Nibbling upon his lower lip in a near mirror image to the way Rhaena often nibbled on her own.
She supposed.. .he'd inherited more from her than she gave him credit for.
"B-but...but mama," Aemon had started breathing rapidly, his small chest heaving as he tried to find his words. Glancing over at Elaya, his beloved wet-nurse, she only bestowed upon him a kind encouraging smile. She had no authority over Rhaena, her sovereign, and the young woman had no wish to interject. As was her right, it was not her concern.
But Aemon, he wanted someone on his side.
Rhaena knew that look, she'd seen it often enough ever since Daemion had entered the world. Aemon adored the idea of having a sibling, he just disliked sharing the things he cherished the most. And that came in droves, whether it was his favourite toys…or even his parents at times.
"Mama, he... it's not fair," he finally huffed, crossing his arms.
Sweet thing, he'd given up so soon.
Now, she did wish to hear his side of things, even though she was certain she already knew it. If Aemond had been present, he would have brushed past the pouting of their eldest son and zeroed in on the aftermath of it. The aggression he'd shown. He wouldn't have disciplined their child for it, per se, but his lecture would have hinged on the act and not the source of the matter.
Rhaena, however, wanted her child to feel heard. As Daemion calmed and settled himself against her chest, softly cooing as he suckled his thumb. She kissed the crown of his head, his soft curly pale hair brushed her lips as she shifted her hold of him. Freeing one of her hands so that she could summon Aemon to her, "come here, sweet one," her voice shimmered softly.
Proving to her son that he was not in any real trouble, she just wanted him close. And that was all it took really, Aemon's pale eyes stared up at her for only a moment before he began to carefully push himself up to his feet. His little legs only stumbling once before he hugged himself directly against Rhaena's leg. Pressing his cheek against her thigh as she placed a hand upon his head, holding his other cheek as she sighed, "come, let's walk to the nursery and you can tell me your side of things on the way, hmm?"
It was such a powerful thing, to feel his little chest rise and lower with the heaviest little sigh he could muster. To feel Daemion’s steadied little lungs work against her. To think she'd created these little boys, she'd helped to bring them into the world and now here they were existing within it.
Aemon nodded against her, looking up at her again with his lips twisting towards another pout, "okay...but he was doing it wrong. I didn’t mean to hit him…I didn't want him to...he was slobbering on my toys, mama. My Bawerian!" his pale indigo eyes had turned glassy and tearful. His cheeks flushing red, the tip of his nose burned the same colour as he sniffled.
Although...'slobbering', that was impressive in itself.
That was a new word for him to use in regular conversation. Even more so when considering he felt quite emotional at the moment.
It was hard sometimes, being a mother, the fact that Rhaena found herself feeling genuinely proud that her babe's vocabulary was growing quite naturally. But to also have the wherewithal to know that it was not something he'd care to have acknowledged at this moment. So she found herself actively biting back a grin, ruffling her son's hair instead as she nodded. Fixing her expression to offer something far more sympathetic, "and that's quite understandable, darling. It really is, and I'm sure if Daemion was a bit older and understood that, he wouldn't have put your figurine in his mouth."
It seemed her words did not offer much in the way of comfort as Aemon's pout only set further. His little hands still clutching onto her velvety silk skirts, his adorable little disgruntled expression clearly demanded something be done for his inconvenience. Because as it were, his frown was turning into a full blown fret.
Unfortunately, Rhaena did not have the time to placate him so. Smoothly as she could manage, she rubbed soothing circles upon his back as she guided him out into the hall with her. With Elaya treading along behind them, the two stationed guards followed them as they made their way to the nursery.
"Ziry iksos mirre paktot, byka ñuha mēre," it's alright, my little one , Rhaena hummed down towards Aemon as they made their way into the brightly lit bloom coloured nursery, "I'll sing one of your favourite lullabies, hmm? How about that?"
At that, Aemon beamed up her, wiping his eyes with an adorable smile, "the one about the dragon Prince and the water maiden!"
"Yes, dear," she giggled back, letting Aemon run to his bed. He'd climbed up eagerly, letting Elaya undo the laces of his shoes so that he could climb in under his fur blanket. As he settled in, Rhaena placed Daemion down beside him. Let the boys lie close as she settled soft hands on their cheeks, tucking them in. Aemon's pale eyes blinked up innocently, as he instinctually nudged closer to his baby brother, “mama, when is papa coming back?”
“I-” just as she had opened her mouth...Vhagar could be heard roaring in the distance.
There he was, Aemond would be back soon.
And truth be told, now that the initial shock of his exploits had finally subsided.
All that was left was a deep sense of vexation for the man she called 'husband' .
She was all too ready to face him now.
“He should be home shortly, little one,” Rhaena caressed her son's chubby cheek, “you'll see him later. Now, settle in.”
—
Notes: LMAO at this point, I think Rhaena actually wants to throttle Aemond. Burning villages down for a lack of kewchie and tiddy milk is WILD fr. Chapter three is where is we will be switching over to Aemond's POV! And Ch.4 is most likely when the actual smut will begin! Although Aemond's a needy guy, the horny thoughts will still be there in ch.3.
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