26. Dinner and Diatribes

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Year: 129 AC

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Year: 129 AC

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Just before they entered the dining chambers, Daenys tugged Aemond's arm and pulled him to a stop. He raised an eyebrow at her curiously, his features still twisted into a thoughtful frown at their earlier conversation.

"Meet me in the library after dinner," she declared, her voice tinged with excitement.

Aemond's brow furrowed deeper, a hint of skepticism in his expression, "Shouldn't you be attending to more important matters, like your suitors, perhaps?"

Daenys rolled her eyes in response, a flicker of defiance lighting up her gaze, "Oh, please. I don't know why you seem so upset about that. This is important, I promise. I have something to give you!"

"Another one of your embroidery pieces, I presume? I hope it's not another..." the prince paused, searching for the right word, "masterpiece."

"You don't have to sound so sarcastic."

"Hmm, don't I?"

"It's not as easy as it looks you know."

A bemused smirk tugged at Aemond's lips, "That sounds like an excuse to me."

"No, no, it's nothing of the sort. This time, you'll actually like it."

"That's a bold promise to make, Daenys. Are you sure you will be able to deliver?"

Daenys elbowed her friend in the ribs, "Stop mocking. I am telling you, this time you will like what I have for you."

"You could just give it to me now, you know. Save us all the bother." 

The princess shook her head adamantly, her grin widening, "Oh no, you'll have to wait. Wouldn't want to upset Grandfather by being late to his dinner, now would we?"

With a playful tug, she guided him forward, the ornate doors of the dining hall looming ahead. Aemond relented, allowing himself to be drawn into the chambers. 

As the lively ambiance of the dining hall swirled around them, Daenys and Aemond found themselves approached by none other than Lucerys Velaryon. Luke's demeanour carried a mix of hesitation and something else, a shadow flickering across his features as he glanced between his sister and his uncle. 

Aemond's jaw tensed imperceptibly as he felt a sudden tension in the air. A familiar itch behind his eyepatch resurfaced and he instinctively straightened, a guarded expression settling upon his features. Before his nephew could utter a word, Aemond excused himself with a polite nod to Daenys, gesturing toward his brother who was seated across the hall. 

Aegon was already on his third cup of wine when Aemond settled down beside him. He shot his younger brother a grin, which then morphed into a scowl when he snatched away his drink. 

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