An Introduction to the Lifesteal SMP - Season 6 Starts on July 6th
The Premise
Lifesteal is a competitive, PVP based soft-anarchy server, with one core gimmick: In the server, if you kill somebody, you can steal one of their permanent hotbar hearts, with a maximum of twenty hearts. If you drop down to zero hearts, you are banned off of the server, unless another player revives you with an expensive item called a revive beacon.
One of the biggest draws in the fandom is the incredibly organic improv storytelling that arises from the server, with the competition extending past simple combat. Players clash as they all attempt to enact their own plans, creating moral and emotional conflicts that draw in stream viewers and make the server incredible to follow as events unfold.
Watching Lifesteal Streams and attempting to have a complete picture of what is going on is very time intensive. Luckily, starting in season five, they do weekly sessions where the most important events usually happen.
How seasons work
Each season runs independently of each other, and the entire world resets when they move to a new season.
There is no in-universe lore explanation for what happens during a season reset. Some streamers may choose to treat it like they’re playing a different character, but most choose to leave things that happened in previous seasons in the past while still acknowledging it. Knowing what happens in previous seasons may help you understand things more, but is not necessary in the slightest.
Is Lifesteal a roleplay server? Kinda, kinda not.
Please respect that creators have different levels of interest in rp and are primarily on the server to make youtube videos of a particular niche.
Lifesteal is unscripted, though different players will create and enact elaborate plans with insane amounts of effort, but all of this is with the goal of a genuine, entertaining reaction.
Most members enter every situation with the primary goal of creating a good video, and their actions often reflect this. Videos are designed to be standalone content. Each video tells a complete story, and doesn't often tie into other videos or arcs. Lifestealers will also twist the narrative in order to create a linear storyline, including changing the order of events, or even just straight up lying. (We’re looking at you, Mapicc.) Due to this, with few exceptions, it is near impossible to gain full context of an arc or event via video alone, as so much context and information will be glanced over or covered up. Streams are a much more reliable way of understanding the full story.
New and leaving members
The eight new members announced so far for season six are:
Derapchu
Ecorridor
Chiefxd
Kaboodle
Flamefrags
SB737
Hannahxxrose
Manepear
Members who have left over the past season are:
ItzSubz_
Vitalasy
Parrotx2
Rekrap2
Poafa
Midmysticx
Branzycraft
Where to watch Lifesteal
There are a few active streamers and uploaders, who we will introduce below, and there is also a fan-run archive of all Lifestealer vods that you can access here.
The archive runs as far back as 2020, though only becomes mostly reliable around July 2022, when the project started. The archive also has links to every members’ youtube and twitch account, as well as any vod channel they may run themselves!
POV Recommendations
Frequent Streamers: If you want a consistent pov to watch, and be able to follow a consistent storyline here are your best choices.
PrinceZam: Zam was lifesteal’s most consistent streamer in previous seasons and puts a very large amount of effort into his rp and storytelling. Goes live at random times for long hours.
Kaboodle: Kab is a new addition this season, but she consistently puts an incredible amount of effort into rp and storytelling. She streams most days at 7pm EST!
ChiefXD: New Member who streams daily at 11am EST.
HannahxxRose: New member, frequent streamer, but we don't know how her streaming style will adapt to lifesteal yet.
Derapchu: He’s a little bit of a freak. Australian but has a bad sleep schedule so he streams at US friendly times or earlier. Does pretty long streams.
Pangi: Has been on hiatus, but usually streams regularly around 2-4 PM EST at an EU friendly time for shorter hours. He typically does sillier, shorter projects.
4CVIT: Frequent streamer when he does stream, but may go inactive for long periods of time. Kinda roleplays, one of the better builders on the server and likes to keep projects secret from chat.
Honorable Mention: Follow these people anyway, they’ll probably go live for big events or random streams.
Minutetech: Typically streams large events and sessions
Mapicc: Occasionally streams, mostly important events
Ashswag: Occasionally streams, mostly important events
Jumper: Occasionally streams
Bacon: Occasionally streams
Woogie: Frequent streamer at the start of the season, but will become less active when college starts again for him
Roshambogames: Occasionally Streams, mostly important Events
Youtube:
Current Season:
Frequent Uploads:
Mapicc: Uploads frequently on main and 2nd channel, however he is known for lying a lot in his videos. It’s a little bit funny.
Minutetech: Long videos about huge arcs, mostly truthful but may simplify some stuff.
Wemmbu: Long videos about huge projects.
FlameFrags: Medium length SMP videos.
ChiefXD: Has an episodic style, we are not sure how that will change for lifesteal as he is a new member.
Jumper: Mix of long form videos and short videos about a variety of topics.
Squiddo: Fun, High Effort and Energy videos about a variety of topics. Lots of custom art.
SB737: Uploads often but unsure if he will upload Lifesteal.
Do Not Upload as Frequently But Its Good When They Do
Planetlord, Roshambogames, Ashswag, Spokeishere, Princezam, Baconnwaffles, ECorridor, Pentar, Clownpierce
Past Seasons, we linked povs that cover full seasons or large amounts of a season, but other non listed members still have fantastic one off videos about single events or arcs.
Link All Videos Playlist (updated infrequently)
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLiRXq4v6FXPn8D15UEAY6oZuPF23-NTG8
Mer S4 Summary Document
Lifesteal Season 4 Directory (public access version)
Cog S4 Summary Doc
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E0Mi2s64to6BzoAJuWHw16lnJpdEdYBXfd62tC7O0jY/edit?usp=sharing
Minute S5 Videos: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6xtt50MzkHWil_vQbgkll9rZTDyfI5k1
Spoke S4: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYmAm1lW6hlgK3WHPORSYeC80PVNUuUcZ
All Parrot Videos: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLu0onnEWPanttCW1zIfh25bQ_b5sBo8_p
Clownzy S3 Videos: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCUTLKqDTev0e1y9Paex97_KP-TpF6QIs
Squiddo S5:
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlWJegiCG6X_iKkO-CEd6J9GMAhkzYjVn&si=Kx6lLPLZQeexGdio
Baconnwaffles1:
https://www.youtube.com/@baconnwaffles1/videos
Princezam S3:
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmPnYnLs0WLoJTEdRpFBMTS21X631LKtu&si=37bk0Gs1haPYOSEd
Mapicc, warning. Unreliable Narrator.
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsiSq_WYMOAV7HPEqn8QY_981n19u2qO0
Roshambo:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaa_QQN2V8hZ78ACgXFOGt4tGcfDPTp_B
Stream Etiquette
Do not stream snipe / metagame, which includes sharing or hinting at any info whatsoever, even silly things, about another creators playthrough that the streamer wouldn’t know otherwise, you will get banned in all lifestealers chats. Information revealed via videos is considered fair game.
Do not backseat game or backseat lore
Lifesteal Members on Tumblr
Several Lifesteal members have public tumblr accounts they use to varying degrees. Because of this, we use the #Lifesteal Spoilers tag to mark posts they shouldn't see because of metagaming reasons or when we just don’t want them to see it. They’re mostly chill, please just block them if you don’t want to deal with them.
hdusa - Princezam
lowkeywaffling - Baconnwaffles0
Neverpoor - Ashswag
TheRealSquiddo- Squiddo
BigPangolinMan - Pangi
Fancontent:
Lifesteal has a big fanartist community and we encourage you to join in!
Duo Name List
Lifesteal Animatics and Edits
Wormhole Zine
Minecraft Roleplay Analysis - Barrier Blocks
326 notes
·
View notes
The sea and the fire
“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang
Summary : when you're married to your childhood sweetheart who becomes your enemy and you get lost in the terrible maze of politics.
[previous chapter] [masterlist]
Rating : None for now, will be explicit 18+ later MDNI
Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader (There will be some Cregan Stark x Reader later)
TW : none for now except not proofread. TW will be added as the story progresses.
Words count : 4408
AN : Hi everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. So, MONTHS later, I've finally decided to post chapter 2. Sorry for the wait.
[About this story
This fanfiction is inspired by an RP I started with my girlfriend (@irmawrites, go check her work) in early 2023, which is still ongoing. My girlfriend writes for her OC (who is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent) as well as for Aemond and Cregan, while I write for my OC (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) as well as for Aegon and Cole mostly. This fanfiction doesn't cover exactly the same events, I've changed some things, added some others and omitted some. But it follows the main storyline.
The character of Irma is a nod to my girlfriend and is based on another of her OCs (Alicent's niece).
I'm keen to turn this story into fanfiction and I hope you'll like it! ❤️ I know there's a ton of fanfiction out there based on the Aemond x Rhaenyra's daughter trope. If you don't like it, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you've read too much of it, I'd suggest you read another fanfiction written by one of the many talented authors on this platform ❤️
The story will unfold in several arcs, with the first arc building up the relationship between the reader and Aemond. The tone is therefore lighter. The following arcs (which I can't wait to get to!!) will gradually introduce a lot more angst (my favourite thing to write). The tone will be radically different.
Overall, the fanfiction will sometimes be based on elements of the book, and sometimes on the show, with my own interpretations.
Please bear in mind that my dialogue will sound very "modern" because I struggle to write medieval dialogue in English, as it's not my mother tongue.]
Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!
After all that talk, ENJOY <3
Chapter 2 : Familiarity
There was a sense of renewed familiarity.
You had regained your childhood bedroom and with it your landmarks. Of course, you still missed Dragonstone. And that could seem strange to some - Dragonstone was just a damp cave, a pile of stones perched on a rock. You were in King's Landing, now. You lived in opulence, in a royal comfort unmatched by the perch above the sea where you had spent most of your youth.
But Dragonstone had a charm you couldn't find in King's Landing. Perhaps it was the stillness of the library where you spent all your time, lost among the scrolls of parchment and the thick tomes, or perhaps it was the sound of the crashing waves that rocked you on stormy nights, you weren't sure.
But somehow a sense of familiarity had returned. Your old room hadn't changed much, despite Alicent's questionable alterations to the decoration of the Red Keep. You had found an old toy in the shape of a dragon, and even some old paper on which you had practised your precise handwriting under the strict gaze of a stern Septa when you were a child. It was a memory frozen in time, a kind of testimony to the past. A room that reflected the little girl you were when you left King's Landing.
But perhaps you could change it to your liking, to reflect the young woman you had become. Perhaps it was a way of keeping you occupied before you left again. After all, your mother had promised that your stay would only be temporary. Just time to sort out some inheritance issues. Time to try and heal your family's wounds. Time to secure your family's future. As if the hope of you all rested on your shoulders; the only guarantee that your family wouldn't descend into a bloody escalation, or something like that.
And yet, even though you'd only been here a short time, you'd already gotten into trouble, and it was Aemond himself who had to rescue you. You hated the idea.
You hated the fact that he'd come to your aid.
You hated the fact that you owed him, that you were indebted to him.
Fortunately, your little escapade hadn't been reported - you didn't want to disappoint your mother, or see the reproachful look on her face, even though you were aware that she might not be in the best position to make a comment. You were close to your mother. You were her eldest. You were her only daughter. She cherished and loved you, and you knew you could share everything with her.
But you cherished your secret freedom, and you feared that her concern for her only daughter would give her the bad idea of assigning you closer supervision.
You didn't need a chaperone. You valued what little freedom your condition as a daughter afforded you.
As you slipped under the sheets, your thoughts kept returning to Aemond. The way he'd protected you, the way he'd carried you on his shoulder - it was humiliating, you weren't an object. And the way you had planted a kiss on his cheek. An impulsive act. A foolish act.
You had to admit that you weren't averse to doing it again.
It just didn't make sense. Why had he come looking for you when he'd never answered your letters? He'd probably felt superior, after calling you and your brothers bastards, he'd probably decided you weren't good enough to be his friend anymore.
All this time, all these years, you'd been waiting for a word from him - a mere reply to the letters you'd sent. It never came. You concluded that your friendship had ended, in silence, after all you had done for him; after reassuring him, after holding his hand while the maester tried to repair the broken flesh on his face as best he could.
Had he really been your friend for even one day, or had it all been a facade, a role he'd played? Had he ever been sincere?
You were furious.
Rhaenyra had stroked your hair through every disappointment that gripped your heart like the loving mother she was. Daemon - Daemon had soothed you in his own way, telling you again and again that Aemond wasn't a good man, and that you would save your heart by forgetting him.
But now he had come looking for you. Something had changed. He had taken a step in your direction. You were lost. You were angry, but it was not just anger. There was something else underneath that pile of confusion and resentment. His approach unsettled you. Every step he took towards you, every word he said, sent a whirlwind of conflicting emotions through you. A burning curiosity. An irresistible attraction.
You hated yourself for thinking it, but maybe your betrothal wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe you could retrieve the complicity of your childhood.
Maybe it had never really disappeared.
In the early hours of the morning, the smell of warm bread tickled your nose even before you felt the warmth of the sun's rays through your chamber window. You rolled onto your side to steal a few more minutes of comfort, stifling a grunt into your pillow. You waited fatefully for the moment when Celia or Jeyne would come and wake you.
"Wake up you lazy groundhog, you've got things to tell me!"
But the high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that echoed around your room wasn't Celia's, and it certainly wasn't Jeyne's. You sat up immediately, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you, your fingers rubbing your tired eyes to make sure you weren't dreaming.
Irma Hightower was standing in your room, in a gown more extravagant than ever. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms.
"It was usually me who overslept in the morning and you who had to wake me up," Irma exclaimed, placing the tray she carried awkwardly under her arm on the table with a loud clatter, causing the tea to overflow from the cup and drip onto the wooden table. "But I reckon that sneaking out seems tiring." She punctuated his remark with a knowing wink before dusting off her dress as if she'd just worked in the straw or done the most strenuous physical labour in the world.
Still too sleepy to make sense of your friend's words, you frowned as you looked around for your two handmaidens, the ones who woke you up every morning, helped you get dressed and brought you your meal. "Where are -"
"I dismissed them for the rest of the morning," Irma replied without letting you finish the sentence. That explained the tray and the near disaster. "But here's your breakfast. Gods, did you know a tray was thatheavy? " She paused briefly, barely giving you time to wake up properly.
Irma Hightower was a tornado. She swept away everything in her path - she carried away hearts and minds with equal ease, leaving a whirlwind of chaos behind her. Wherever she went, she stirred the air with unbridled energy, forcing others to adapt to her frenetic pace or be wiped out by her determination.
But it would be a lie to say you weren't happy to see her. You sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling before tilting your head to one side. A smile curved the corner of your lips as you watched your friend. You wondered what Irma was doing in your room in the early hours of the morning, especially when, last you heard, she was supposed to be in Oldtown furthering her education.
To tell the truth, you might have had an idea why she was here. You just didn't want to subject yourself to your friend's interrogation - some secrets should remain your secrets.
And what you'd done yesterday was one of them.
"'So?" she asked with a mixture of overflowing curiosity and impetuosity, her brown curls twirling around her face.
"So what?" you sighed as you went behind your dressing screen to remove your nightgown. You slipped into a flowing ocean-blue dress adorned with pearls and embroidery - one of your favourite gowns, a creation that reminded you of your favourite element: the sea.
Unlike your brothers, you weren't made of fire and blood. You were made of sea and storm, and you knew deep down that this was perhaps hypocritical - your own appearance reminded you of it every day.
But it was what your heart had always told you, and you'd come to believe it, too. The feeling of your feet in the water and the breeze on your face, its salty taste against your lips, was the one that brought you the most comfort.
"So what happened yesterday ?” Irma insisted. Her voice grew impatient. "I saw you.”
But you ignored her, busy wriggling to reach the lacing at the back of your dress. In vain. You weren't flexible enough. "Since you've decided to play the handmaid today, help me get dressed," you replied, appearing on one side of the screen, your hands gripping the fabric tightly, your back to her. Irma rose with a long sigh - it was just for show, you knew - and came over to you. You smiled mischievously. You had to admit that you enjoyed seeing her in this role, so opposite to who she really was. You wondered what her time in Oldtown had been like; whether she'd been treated like the spoilt brat she truly was, or whether, on the contrary, she'd had to learn patience, faith and discipline - all qualities that didn't characterise her.
"I could actually keep you as my lady in waiting, you know. You'd be good for that. Forced to follow me everywhere, I'd love that."
You didn't need to see her to know that she rolled her eyes. " I am the Queen's niece. I was made for more than that."
When her fingers became tangled in the lacing of your dress, she spoke again, her voice caressing the back of your ear as she tugged at the lacing with a little more force: "You haven't answered my question."
How could you forget that Irma was so perceptive? And above all, how could you forget that when Irma wanted something, it was impossible for her not to get it? You weren't going to get away. She would insist, until you fell for her angelic pout and her round eyes that tried to win you over.
It reminded you of your shared youth - the times you spent together, swapping secrets and gossip, talking about your joys and sorrows. You had been inseparable before you were forced to return to Dragonstone, and she to Oldtown.
"Nothing happened. At least nothing like you may think," you admitted, turning to smooth the front of your dress. You whirled around, the fabric rising gently around you like a bluish wave. "How do I look?"
"I wouldn't describe being carried around like a sack of flour on your dark uncle's shoulder as nothing. Especially in your family."
Irma inspected your outfit, her eyes expertly examining you from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, looking for the slightest detail that would have spoiled her work. She brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face.
"Did he kiss you?" Her eyebrows arched, her mouth forming a playful pout of false surprise. She was clearly determined to decipher your every secret, to expose them. You hesitated for a moment, to cast doubt, to let her imagine more - but you were afraid of the repercussions this might have on you. You weren't sure that Irma knew how to hold her tongue. And you didn't want to risk exposing yourself to Aemond's irritation over false rumours. Not when you'd planned to play with him a bit; to prove to him that you had the upper hand, that you could have him wrapped around your little finger and drive him mad. You were still suspicious of him. You hadn't really figured him out yet. You just knew he'd changed since the last time you'd seen him, but you weren't sure how much.
"No, he didn't kiss me," you repeated, putting the same emphasis on the word as your friend. You walked over to the table to sip your still steaming cup of tea. You could feel Irma's round eyes on your back - she was waiting for you to say more. She probably had a dozen unanswered questions: why had Aemond brought you back like this? Where had you been? Who had you been with? What had you done?
But you didn't answer right away, biting into the crusty bread.
"He just... came to fetch me," you finally admitted between two bites, your mouth half full - it was a far cry from the princess manners in which you'd been raised. Sitting on your bed, Irma stared at you with her brown eyes - the same as her aunt's. "I was with Aegon. In King's Landing. And I got lost."
That was enough. Irma didn't need to know everything; after all, it wasn't a lie if you only omitted certain details that you deemed relatively unimportant.
Or that Irma didn't need to know.
But the revelation provoked a silence. Your friend didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed, revealing a fine line between her eyebrows, and her lips pursed into a bitter pout. She looked troubled, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I didn't know you were close to Aegon."
If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have detected the note of reproach in her voice. Was it jealousy? Was your friend jealous of the time you spent with Aegon?
You weren't sure you understood. He was married - and more importantly, as you remembered, Irma hated him for his debauchery and the alcohol he drank to excess.
But this was no time to argue, and you preferred to play it safe. There would be plenty of time for your investigation later, when Irma's suspicions would be at rest. "He's my uncle and... he suggested he show me the streets of King's Landing because I was feeling bored."
And the idea seemed liberating at the time. A moment of stolen freedom, away from the court, away from your duties. Where you were no longer the model princess, the paragon of virtue, but just another girl, lost in anonymity. You weren't sure she understood - she'd always loved the court, the gowns and the politics. You too, of course. It would be a lie to say you weren't made for it; for the life your status as a princess could offer you. You cherished the comforts and loved the responsibilities that came with your role. But sometimes those same responsibilities – and duty above all - stifled you. You needed solitude. To be somewhere else.
"It's dangerous. You could have been harmed!" Irma said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of concern and annoyance. "You can't just follow a man like Aegon into the city," she sighed.
Some truth was hidden in her words, and you were aware of your lack of rationality, of the stupidity of your foolishness. The danger you had put yourself in, too, for if Aemond hadn't intervened... You didn't want to think about it. The dirty hands and lecherous looks those men gave you still made you shudder. All those risks for an illusory feeling of freedom, wasn't it a high price to pay?
Aemond had come for you. The humiliation still burned on your cheeks.
"Lost in your thoughts?" Irma asked impatiently, offering you her arm as if she'd waited too long for you to come out of your reverie, "thinking about your Prince Charming again?"
You gave her a little tap on the arm, your eyes raised to the sky at the broad smile that stretched her lips, but you accepted her invitation anyway. "Fine, let's go. I heard that they are training this morning. And I know you're not indifferent to Dornish charm." You winked at her. And arm in arm, you and Irma walked through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the courtyard.
Aemond's movements were precise and swift. Faced with Ser Criston's Morningstar, he moved skilfully, as nimble as a cat. You leaned against the parapet of the ramparts; your eyes riveted on the two silhouettes that seemed to be dancing in the courtyard amidst the small crowd that had gathered around them. Irma didn't miss a moment of the spectacle, and you wondered if there was a man she didn't find charming.
Aemond, probably.
You knew she didn't bear any affection for him - he was too serious, too stern. Too scary, too.
"Did you get tired of Oldtown, is that why you're here?" you asked teasingly, glancing briefly at Irma.
She leaned towards you as if to share a secret, not taking her eyes off the show the two men were offering. "They didn't want me anymore," she confided. "I used to drive the maesters and the septas mad. It was amusing."
You should have known better. Irma was too stubborn and brash to be around men and women who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. She was intelligent, there was no denying that, but she lacked the patience and diligence that the study of texts demanded. Though she had spent her childhood in King's Landing, perfecting her courtly education at her aunt's side, her rebellious attitude had sent her straight back to Oldtown.
And then, she had threatened the Maesters and the Septas - she belonged at Court and she was convinced of it.
"And how is Daeron?"
"As courteous and charming as ever," she replied.
Aemond disarmed Cole and everyone applauded; including Jace and Luke, who you could recognise in the crowd. Your betrothed's eyes shifted from the spot he was staring at in the crowd - your brothers? - and looked up at you for a moment. You wondered if Aemond had seen you, if he had felt your gaze on him, and if that was why he had become fiercer in his attacks. A strange sensation arose in your belly, as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, making your heart beat faster.
You forced yourself to suppress your emotions, which you blamed on all the time you'd spent away from Dragonstone. You refused to admit that it was Aemond's gaze that you sought more than any other, especially after the events of the previous day. Especially when you could still feel his skin against yours, his firm hands around your body, his face just a few inches from yours.
You wondered what had possessed you to kiss him on the cheek.
You wanted to play with him, that was certain. But you refused to subject your heart to the whims of love. Not after the heartache you'd felt when you found out he'd forgotten you so easily.
It was nothing serious.
You met Aemond's gaze. The intensity of his lilac eye had this very capacity to send shivers down your spine.
He didn't even crack a smile, and looked away as if nothing had happened.
"I'll see you later," Irma said, squeezing your arm, before turning on her heels to - presumably - find some male company. Once you were alone, you walked down the steps that led from the ramparts to the courtyard. Your steps instinctively brought you to where Aemond was standing, ready to sheathe his sword.
If he seemed surprised to see you, he didn't show it. His icy eye rested on you, unreadable as ever.
"Lady Strong."
"We should talk," you began, ignoring the unpleasant way he had just addressed you. Lady Strong. The nickname left a sting of humiliation, and under normal circumstances you would have reacted. You would have defended yourself, you would have thought of something witty to retort - but today you had decided to take a step towards peace. You had decided to show that you hadn't come here with any animosity, even though everything inside you was screaming to make him swallow his insolence.
"There is nothing to talk about," he replied mechanically. Cold. Distant. Disinterested. Syllables sharp and icy.
But yes, there were a thousand things to talk about; the betrothal that would lead to your certain future marriage, the events of yesterday, the letters he had never answered, his hostile and cold attitude towards you. There were all these things and more, but neither of you seemed to know how or where to begin.
"About yesterday -"
"I haven't spoken a word to anyone. Your little secret is safe with me. You can rest assured, niece."
That's not what you meant. It wasn't that you wanted to talk about - it was everything around it; it was the reasons, it was how he had found out, it was the consequences, it was the kiss on his cheek, it was the thick tension between you that you were sure he had felt too.
It was all these things.
You took a step towards him. Suddenly you felt yourself bubbling. And as if you'd grown wings, you closed the distance between you without looking away.
"Why?" you asked, your tone more urgent. You wanted to push him over the edge. You wanted him to admit what you knew for a fact that he would never be able to. "You could expose me. Tell everyone about my little escapades. Make me lose all credibility. End our betrothal." You paused, leaning your body towards him, your warmth mingling with his.
You felt him hold his breath. He tensed, straightening his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side to watch you.
"Why exactly would I do that, Lady Strong?"
Because you hate me, you were tempted to reply. Because you hate me, just as you hate my brothers. Because you cut me off all those years ago, without a word. And despite all the affinities that could bring you together, despite the fond memories of your shared childhood and your closeness, despite the love you harboured for him, you were loyal to your siblings, like he was to his. Whatever you did, you would always be associated with them. Your family.
So wasn't it normal for him to see you as an extension of the hatred he felt for them?
At your silence, he continued, this time in High Valyrian: "I am not the one who despises the other. You know that."
Hate was nothing more than a form of passion.
But you weren't sure it was hate you felt for Aemond - no, the hate would come later, stronger, hotter than ever.
For now, you felt disappointment and a form of betrayal after the friendship that had bound you together for more than a decade.
"I am not the one who is determined to make you my enemy."
Enemy, like water to fire. Trying to destroy each other by nature.
"And yet, you treat me like one," you replied. Sharpness staining your voice.
He let out a hm. He was still staring at you; the sensation was almost disturbing. He took a step in your direction, violating your breathing space. You had to lift your head to maintain eye contact. Then he leaned towards you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly in a smirk.
"I wouldn't have come to rescue you if you were my enemy."
The words barely out of his mouth, he straightened and took a step back, giving you the courtesy to walk away as your cheeks turned red. You didn't need him to remind you of what had happened yesterday. The memory was still frozen in your mind, clear and intact. The ghost of his touch like a burn.
You wondered if he felt the same; if he thought about your lips on his cheek, if they had left an invisible, indelible mark on his skin, like his fingers on yours.
You had to change the subject. Quickly. Before you got caught at your own game.
Your hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword on the table beside the training area. You lifted it. It felt heavy in your hand, still warm from Aemond's grip.
It was strange, this power in your hand. A weapon that could take a life. Too big and unsuitable for your delicate fingers, but fascinating.
"Teach me."
"No," he replied immediately, following your every move with his icy gaze, as if he feared you might hurt yourself. You rested the heavy sword on the wooden table before turning. You approached him again.
"Daemon taught me how to use a dagger. At least he taught me where to aim to hurt." You flatten your hand against his chest, just below his ribcage. His body stiffens beneath your palm. "He said it was to protect me from dangerous men." Your gaze travelled from your hand to his eyes.
Aemond chuckled. He didn't try to push you away. On the contrary, he kept your hand pressed against him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he guided your hand to his jugular, where you could feel his heart throbbing against your fingertips.
"First lesson: that is where you aim to kill." Caught off guard, you tried to withdraw your hand, but Aemond held it in place, your fingertips on his skin, your eyes both searching and challenging each other. The air was charged. Tense. Like a cloud before a storm. You held your breath. "But you wouldn't dare hurt a fly."
He released your wrist and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to step back until your back hit the table. He leaned in. His face so close to yours that you could almost feel his warm breath melting into yours. A few inches and you could close the gap between your lips. A few inches and -
"Well, niece. I hope to see you for dinner. And, of course, I expect you to behave."
With that he released you.
With that, he turned on his heel.
He stopped. And without looking back, he added: "And please. Don't make a habit of me saving you.
Well, you were evenly matched.
169 notes
·
View notes