The Fall from the Heavens (27)
[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard
Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
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When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.
Or at least she thought he had.
His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.
He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.
However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.
She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.
I am proud of you.
Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.
Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.
With this, she finally felt equal to him.
Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.
She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.
He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.
Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.
She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.
She was no longer welcome here.
She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.
"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.
"Me too."
As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.
At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.
"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.
"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.
She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.
"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.
"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.
As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.
She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.
It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.
She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.
"− is this here? −" He asked casually.
She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.
"− yes −"
She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.
She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.
Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.
"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.
She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.
Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.
It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.
"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.
"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.
Not after what they had managed to accomplish.
"Let's go to bed."
She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.
She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.
She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.
She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.
So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.
She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.
Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.
She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.
After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.
She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.
"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.
She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.
Was he having nightmares again?
Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?
"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.
"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.
She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.
"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.
She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.
He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.
"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.
"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.
He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.
"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.
"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.
"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.
"− yes −"
Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.
"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.
My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.
"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"
"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"
She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.
She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.
She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.
"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.
He did not answer.
"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.
She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.
She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.
He was vulnerable.
"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"
"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.
"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.
From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.
He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.
She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.
"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"
"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.
She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.
He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.
"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"
She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.
She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.
Had she really never hidden anything from him?
Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.
She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?
She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.
"− tell me −" He whispered.
She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.
So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?
"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"
"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.
"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.
"− what could this mean? −"
"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.
She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.
"− forgive me −"
She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.
No.
"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.
"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.
"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.
Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.
"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.
She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.
"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.
She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.
She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.
"− my Rheanys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.
The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.
She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.
She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.
She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.
He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.
He did not know what to say.
Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.
"− my Lady, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"
"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.
Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.
Good, she thought.
She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.
"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.
"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.
She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.
"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.
She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.
He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.
One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.
"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.
He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.
She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.
"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.
As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.
"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.
They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.
"− let's sit down −"
Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.
"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.
Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.
"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"
"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.
She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.
She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.
It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.
"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.
"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.
She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.
"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.
"− I know −"
They fell silent for a moment.
"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.
I don't know.
"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"
They said no more.
She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.
She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.
She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.
He had returned to King's Landing without her.
She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.
She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.
Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.
She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.
She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.
She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.
"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.
"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.
"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.
"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.
"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.
"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"
She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.
They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.
"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.
"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"
"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"
Gods.
"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.
She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.
"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"
"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.
"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.
"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.
Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.
"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"
"− you mocked me with Aegon −"
"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.
What was she supposed to answer him?
"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"
"− you are a traitor −"
"− how dare you −"
"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"
A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.
She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.
"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"
Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.
What would Baela say if she saw this?
It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.
She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.
That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.
She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.
When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.
She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.
"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.
He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.
"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.
"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.
"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.
Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.
Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.
"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"
"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.
An opportunity for confrontation.
"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.
"− Aemond, that's enough −"
"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.
She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.
She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.
"− we are leaving −"
"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"
"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"
"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.
"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.
"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.
"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.
She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.
"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.
"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.
Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.
Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.
"− what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.
"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.
He grinned.
"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.
Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.
They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.
"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.
When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.
"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.
She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.
"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.
She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.
"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.
"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.
"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"
He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.
"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.
"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.
She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.
Gods, no.
"− don't touch me −"
She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.
She knew he was hard.
She knew he wanted to soften her up.
"Mmm."
She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.
She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.
She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.
She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.
She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.
Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.
"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"
She couldn't help herself; his fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.
"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.
"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.
"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.
Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.
"− fuck, Rheanys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.
His seed.
Gods.
She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.
"− let me embrace you −"
"− no −"
She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.
"− move away, uncle −"
"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"
"− your wife does not wish for this −"
"− sleep −"
She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.
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pt.4 | 📍pt.5
rewrote, edited and proofread chapter five cause I thought it was horseshit and you guys deserved more from me. 🫶
numb.
you tried to feel numb.
doing everything in your power to push down any kind of emotion that was ready to slip through your mask.
look ahead, stand tall, put one foot in front of the other so no one would know you were wearing a confidence coat that was 2 sizes too small.
don't breathe too loud they'll hear you.
don't step too loud they'll think about your weight.
don't blink too much they'll think you're fluttering your lashes at them.
don't tuck your chin in they'll think you're gross.
gross for what exactly? everything.
don't mess up the stepping pattern or else you'll look like a bumbling idiot as you try to get back on the rhythm.
don't clench your fists they'll think you're mad and unapproachable.
don't smile because you're not in front of a mirror where you can control how much you want to give away.
don't think too hard or else you'll become enraptured with your daydreams and you won't be able to take part in reality.
don't do anything with your lips or else some air will come in and create a sound that sounds similar to a fart. then they'll think you're extra gross.
all these rules you had to follow to 'be normal,' weren't an actual set of rules, but a lifestyle. you wouldn't get collared if you didn't do one of the rules, you wouldn't get yelled at or reprimanded.
you were okay. to your knowledge that is.
on the outside, you probably looked like you had a stick up your ass. always in a rush to get to where you needed to go. like one of those rolling backpack kids back in your world. whenever they would pass they'd take casualties with them. rolling over toes, pencils, teachers- there was nothing in their way they couldn't bulldoze through.
you were just missing the wheels and will of iron it took to be seen with such a… what’s the right word- atrocity, in public, let alone an all-boys school.
underneath the habits and self-induced numbness, past all the anxiety and fear there was a tickle. not an actual tickle, but a sudden feeling you couldn't identify. it wasn't rage or frustration. you weren't sad or envious... you think- it was something gentler than that.
something softer yet just as negative was infesting your heart and mind like a slow-acting poison. poisoning your thought process, your habits, your attitude, and your livelihood.
though the breeze and sunshine walking to class supplied your flesh with warm- there was a chill over your heart. the beams of warmth too short to reach into the many cracks and holes that were created. sometimes you thought there was a bug. a big, juicy parasitic bug that would suck away your hopes and feast on your memories. It had a sweet tooth that was for certain, only targeting happy memories as it kept you with the bad ones.
did you ever have happy memories?
there was nothing you could do about the pestering leech. it wouldn't go away with Kalim's warmth and silver's calm. two sides of the same coin.
but no matter how many times you flipped: heads or tails, heads or tails, heads or tails would never work.
yes, you would smile, you would laugh- put on a poor show to convince yourself and others that there was nothing wrong. Everything was okay deep down and inside your twisted little mind.
sometimes, you weren't sure who exactly you were performing for.
"why am I scared to laugh" you remembered asking yourself one night, putting down your jester's hat for the evening.
looking in the dusty mirror, your eyes carefully roamed your face, ticking off imperfections as you scanned every feature, scrutinizing every fold, and every slight bump on your skin. saving the most obvious imperfection for last, you finally acknowledged the brewing red horn ready to grow on the side of your forehead.
you knew it was a normal thing that teenagers of all ages experienced. but you felt especially helpless now, with the lack of beauty supplies and makeup. but with a quick brush of your hair, the brewing red horn disappeared behind some tresses of hair.
"I look like a demon"
...
"though if it was on my nose, i'd look like rudolph"
there was no punchline. yet the observation- not even an original comparison, made you laugh.
A tiny huff puffed from your chest. though the more you imagined yourself with deer ears and a bright lobster red nose, you could feel your thoracic region start to shake. trying to push the sixth sense of judgment the walls were giving you, you forced yourself to laugh. holding onto this artificial laugh as long as you could. you hadn't laughed in a while. hadn't smiled in a minute. you'd barely look at yourself in the mirror most days.
gripping onto the vanity you watched your eyes crinkle and smile stretch. tripping and stumbling over scattered objects in your room you were still clenching your stomach nonetheless.
you felt like a tumbling tornado. clumsily tripping over everything with no set destination or concern for the things in your path. a shoe got kicked up. a pen you remembered liking got stepped and rolled on. a book you read a few nights ago kicked to the door as you set your eyes on your bed. with a few more violent acts towards inanimate objects, you carried your shaking body to bed.
this was it. you were going insane, weren't you?
all you needed was a canvas and paints and you'd truly become insane.
flopping down unceremoniously you let it linger for a second. sighing in contentment as you stared up at the ceiling.
you loved laughing, it was fun! but you were afraid to laugh, to live. remembering Kalim's quote of 'Everything is fun when you make it fun,' you wanted to scoff at his naivety. but Kalim was right.
if you made things miserable for yourself that's how they'll be.
directing your mind back to your head, you blinked owlishly.
oh. you were so caught up in the daydream you forgot you were in the hallways.
peeking through bumping shoulders, you tried looking towards the wall to check the room number.
"shit"
making a giant u-turn with as many 'excuse me's' and 'pardon me's,' you rerouted yourself back to your class. never having walked this way to class you were a bit hesitant. what if you walked by it again? what if someone is watching you and making fun of you for being a daft idiot?
breathe.
but what if you're late for class? crewel will have your hide- skin? doesn't matter what it is cause it'll be his. what if they all laugh when we're late-
we're not late yet it's only-
but when we get to class we'll be late!
perking up when you noticed the assigned numbers to your class, you weaved through the chattering sardines and beelined it to class.
no bell. no expectant crewel. no eyes besides from the easy-to-ignore front row. perfect.
the sigh you were holding in finally set itself free as you adjusted the grip of your books, and you strolled down the isles.
don't walk too fast they'll think you're strange.
but also don't walk too slow so they don't think you're lazy.
head down absent-mindedly adjusting your books, you followed your hand's cue and put your attention on a fixed thing. aka: your books.
but to your relief, you soon found your seat. with a huff, you unloaded the cargo pulled out some loose-leaf paper, and started writing.
writing what? not even you knew. but it made you look busy and that was important.
you didn't lay around in bed all day. you didn't continuously scroll through your phone to distract yourself. you didn't cry at night looking at everyone's socials, wishing it was you having fun. envy bubbling like a nasty tar in your bloodstream as you scorned everyone for having fun when you're miserbale-
"y/n!'
"oow"
sliding in next to you was silver. hair disheveled and tie ever so crooked, though he still looked really good-
pervert a voice whispered. tensing, you looked around and saw no one paying attention to your little corner.
"I tried calling you in the hallway." his boyish smile eased a beat in your rhythmic heart, only for it to take 2 more beats.
"y-you did?" you gulped.
silver nodded as he organized his books. "Yeah, but it's so chaotic and loud I'm guessing you didn't hear me" you nodded in agreement, tongue slipping over itself as you tried conjuring up an excuse.
"I- uh I'm really sorry I didn't hear you. I didn't even know you were there! I was kinda worried about not being elbowed to death." you didn't know why you were chuckling at the end but it felt scene-appropriate. you weren't sure if you believed what you told silver despite it being the truth.
was he going to refute it? was he going to give you a once over and mentally think 'how dare they ignore me' because all the diasomnia students you'd interact with had that very haughty, entitled personality?
but to your slight dissatisfaction, silver only nodded in understanding.
"I'm real-"
"There's no-"
you both started at the same time, sharing a shy smile at the pause.
"you can go ahead" he nodded. Waving your hands, you disagreed. "you were talking first, I'm sorry, go ahead"
even though you gave the green light, silver still heisted to go. giving the air another few seconds before he started talking.
"there is no need to ask for forgiveness. I understand if you couldn't hear me, I'm not the most vocal after all. if only sebek were here" he mulled the last part. wincing at the name, you wanted to pinch yourself for slipping up. damnit you showed that you didn't like a person he was friends with- he'll hate you now. you're screwed, you screwed yourself. don't you understand that he's probably planning on running to sebek as soon as you leave? then everyone in diasomnia is going to hate you-
you nodded, tiny little yellow sponges in white shirts and red ties ran around your brain as a fire roared throughout- wherever they were inside your head.
you tried to push the flood of incoming thoughts into a box, a big red crate with a crab lock to be exact. you were feeling antsy, looking for anything to focus on besides the silver-haired upperclassman in front of you.
sometimes you wish you were a computer. unable to feel and to only run on logic. it seems easier that way.
a thought bubble popped into your brain like an internet pop-up ad.
did they even have computers in twisted wonderland? duh of course they do, they have phones after all.
the thought of twisted wonderland's technology started to swarm and hijack your train of thought. effectively taking out the conductor and changing its course.
did they also have an Industrial Revolution like the United States had? what was the start of it? which kingdom had it first? was there something to set off the alleged revolution? How is it the same and how is it different from your world's?
did magic have allay in it? of course, it did. but how did magic make it different than-
"y/n"
snapping your head at the familiar voice. you looked to silver. only able to take in physical information as the new conductor saw a hole in the tracks, pulling the breaks almost immediately.
"you okay there?"
slowly you nodded, as a few members of the hijacking team jumped out of the train- some ideas and questions with it.
"yeah.. sorry about that, kinda got lost in my train of thought there"
nodding with understanding, silver started talking about how he would sometimes start nodding off when he was talking to someone. half paying attention, half trying to save the train- your brain was split in half as you took in all internal and external information.
until you heard the magic words everyone loves to hear: "what were you thinking ab-"
"The Industrial Revolution"
"... pardon?"
anddd you failed, the train fell into the deep deep gorge that the tracks would normally allow the said train to glide over... but alas! they were gone! blown to smithereens as it guided the train into the deep cavern. a big explosion followed soon after.
"dont worry about it" you brushed him off. saved by the bell as Crewel stood up, riding crop in hand yelling out orders like a drill sergeant.
silver scooted closer. you scooted back, the original distance between you two doubling. you were focused on writing your name, date etc & etc, on another loose-leaf paper.
the dreamy-eyed second-year made some noises before he knew what he was going to say. he started softly "are you okay"? but then grew slightly louder as unease set in "from... last class? I mean I know yuu told me it was a touchy subject but... i just wanted to check in"
your pencil screeched to a halt as the words 'yuu told me-' chanted in your head. it was the only thing you could focus on because what did he mean 'yuu said-'. "what did yuu say." you spoke, voice stable for the first time that morning.
silver's tongue tied itself as he fixed his hair a bit. "well..." he straightened up slightly, "after you stormed... no, escape is a better word. after you escaped the classroom yuu followed before i could. but crewel ended up stopping me before i could even move. and i asked yuu what happened the next time i saw them and asked how you were doing.. to sum it up: they told me you get nervous around new people soo"
dread set over you like a fast-approaching shadow.
oh no. he thinks you're a weird socially inept loser doesn't he? he thinks you're some kind of loser that doesn't go out weekends, weekdays, any day for all that matter. he probably makes fun of you with sebek. right?
"ah well," you cleared your throat. a lie already on the tip of your tongue "I mean it's like- a yes and no kinda thing. I didn't have a lot of guy friends when I was younger so being thrust" you thrust your hands in emphasis "into an al guys school has been quite the adjustment."
quickly, your mind conjured up a painting of a small house in a meadow filled with wildflowers. it was the only thing you could see for miles. it was a nice house with a straw roof, a smoking brick chimney, and a little garden outback. the only problem with the house is that you blew it up.
with nuclear missiles.
and the intensity of the blast was so strong that it created a small crater in the earth, no traces of the house were left as it's entire existence was reduced to ash and rubble all because of you.
the urge to bash your head into the nearest wall like intruding hornets slipping through a crack in an attic to terrorize a small family. there goes your social life right?? what soil life? you killed it before you could even nurture it!
your mouth and mind were running on autopilot while your conscience went blank.
your mouth was a fountain that spewed water everywhere. trying to get yourself out of the hole you dug yourself- crater, more specifically.
"but uhhh yeah, no you're good! you're different and I'm quite glad I got partnered with you since you're not as..."
"boisterous?" silver quipped.
you nodded. silver chuckled, leaning further away from you. "yeah me too. if I got paired with one of your friends only the sevens know how much damage that'll do to my physical and mental well-being"
you both discreetly looked over at the rest of the class watching as all pairs seemed to be in some kind of chaos. whether it's floyd being impulsive, grim trying to add the wrong chemical into a potion. (you didn't even need to know what they were making to know that whatever he's trying to sneak in- doesn't belong there.)
and you were thanking whatever god the people of twisted wonderland worshipped that you weren't paired with one of the adeuce combo. ace would try to take control of the project, pretending he knew what he was doing while simultaneously giving you backhanded compliments on your intelligence. only to ruin the entire project and somehow find a way to blame you for it.
meanwhile, deuce and you would be two peas in a squished pod: not knowing what you're supposed to be doing and ultimately winging it as you tried to match your hot barbie pink potion to crewel's muted blush potion. knowing the both of you, it would end up navy blue and when crewel went to fix it he would add a pinch of fleabane- a literal pinch, and it'd be fixed. embarrassing the both of you for all eternity.
"I wonder which group is gonna blow up the lab first mused quick to shut your lips, you were quick to wish for a sewing kit to forcefully shut you up.
but a small voice whispered 'it's better to take risks than stay comfortable.'
and silver seemed... nice.
silver looked out at the crowd for a moment longer, turning to you he started slowly, "while the yuu, grim, and ace trio seem to be the most obvious choice...." he thought carefully, "epel and deuce seem to be at a loss of what to do and are about 6 shade off. which surprised me since epel is in pomfiore"
"he's actually sh- really-" you started again, taking a moment to think over what you were going to say "I heard that epel's not that great at potions despite being under vil's careful watch...." silver's eyes widened, replying with a soft 'really?' as he looked back to the groups with newfound interest.
you to yourself "never judge a book by its cover" you shrugged, immediately turning to your work. anxiously, you waited for a response.
although circumstances are vastly different- is this how people felt when in the talking stage? if so it was a dreadful experience.
before your pessimistic thoughts could even start, silver responded with a chuckle, enviably agreeing with your statement. you could almost sweat with relief as an invisible weight got lifted from your shoulders.
silver seems nice...
a new voice, meek and unsteady although louder than the usual pessestimic ones in control. and for once, you allowed yourself to feel the slight comfortable tingle it gave you.
the hope and drive to that you haven't felt or experienced in a while.
you wished to get closer to him.
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