[ He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as if the weight of being understood so easily burdens him. Not much of a surprise, considering Petre had all the information to easily do so. It was a stark reminder of the power Aemond held over him, another witness to his brother's influence, another person who could see through the facade he so desperately tried to maintain. He constantly flip-flopped on how he felt about Petre knowing at all, this is one of those times that he wishes he didn't. In this moment, Aegon feels exposed, vulnerable, as if Petre's insight had stripped away the layers of his carefully constructed defenses. (Those crumbled the second he reached out to him, didn't they?)
Yet, Petre serving now as his source of comfort, Aegon doesn't try to escape his attention, or his questions, or try to distract from this entirely with his mouth or the fingers ghosting over Petre's skin. It would be easy to crawl out of bed and find a hole to hide in instead, just as he had done for half his life. But this time, something held him back, some flicker of determination or perhaps just exhaustion from running away for so long. ]
It was Aemond.
[ His frown deepens. Aegon scoots himself a bit closer, snaking his arm tight around Petre, as if his warmth was enough to persuade him to stay. It's still hard to look at him, his violet eyes darting away to trace over Petre's skin where the wounds he'd left were now long gone, leaving only memories etched into the flesh. ]
I believe it was inevitable that we'd hurt each other, but I didn't anticipate him doing something that cuts this deeply.
[ On any other occasion, Petre might have taken satisfaction from being right, knowing that he could still read people and use that against them or in his favor. None of that is on his mind, though. All he cares about is what's right in front of them — two possible paths, where in one of them Petre helps Aegon keep the pain at bay for a few more hours, and in the other he lets him face it head-on. ]
You don't have to say anything. [ There's no need for it when they can just use their curse, a mark he and Aegon share as Diabel. He rests his hand on Aegon's side in return, presses his fingers lightly. They're as warm as the rest of his body. ] Show it to me.
[ Show it? It looks like standard jealousy if you take away all the nuances of his familial relationships, and he wasn't sure how deep into that he really wants to go with Petre. Or anyone, really! Had they ever talked about Rhaenyra before- he honestly cannot remember. He'd still prefer if his friend knew nothing, he didn't want to have to think about Aemond anymore, and now he was having to dive back into it. This was asking a lot of him when all he wants to do now was finish the bottle he brought and use Petre like a body pillow when he passes out.
Aegon replays a snippet of the conversation they had anyway, cutting it off before he asks about Kovacs— wasn't relevant. As soon as he does it, he has to resist the urge to peel away from Petre, deciding he's uncomfortable with all of this after all. This was supposed to be his "think about nothing" friend, all laughter and booze and dumb chaos. What the fuck were they now?
His discomfort comes out in a hollow chuckle, and he reaches behind him to find where that bottle had rolled off to. ]
[ It's more than enough. Petre's gaze drifts, silent, no need to ask about Rhaenyra or why her involvement was a breach of Aegon's trust. He imagines how everything must have felt so distorted during and after instead, and like he knows the urge to withdraw is closing in, squeezes lightly to signal that he doesn't want that. It's easy to understand, though. When people stop pretending and things become permanent, it's better to either cut them off or leave them behind.
Lips brush Aegon's neck when he gets the chance. Petre can feel the blood rushing with each heartbeat, faster than when they're resting, maybe more intense than when he's about to come. For the first time, he wants to talk about Caleb. He probably won't. ]
[ He had been about to sit up, discover how much alcohol he could gulp in one go, when Petre's lips found his skin. Like he'd known he was thinking about straying. He chooses to embrace it, fingers unwinding from the neck of the bottle to return to his companion, ignoring what it means as he seeks a different sort of intoxication from such unwarranted affection. Enveloped in his warmth now, soothing the aches left behind by their monstrous tussle and his brother, Aegon decides he doesn't want Petre to be this way with anyone else. Morning Aegon may very well think differently, when he slips out of his arms and doesn't look back on his way out.
He waits for him to continue, his hand caressing the back of Petre's head, fingertips combing through his hair before they move over his shoulders, along his spine. He doesn't, so: ] I wish, then it'd finish me off, and I wouldn't have to endure the next few days.
[ An uncomfortable shift in his expression where he can't be seen, Petre lies still for a while, gaze empty. Even if Aegon doesn't mean it and forgets what he just said later, the thought of it still pulls sharp strings that could trigger a jagged trap in Petre's chest. There haven't been many times he's dealt with abandonment, and he thinks death is that, in a way. Like Petre is right here as Aegon tells him he wouldn't mind leaving him behind. A selfish monster that overlooks Aegon's pain is reminded of the last time he wanted someone to hold him, only for that person to reject him instead.
He's always liked fingers in his hair. Did he ever tell Aegon that? ]
We could always just fuck off.
[ No king for the tourney, no star for the play. What a scandal. ]
I rather enjoy being the center of attention, [ The real reason he won't fuck off is he has no desire to sabotage the work his family has done. It wouldn't stop him from misbehaving, but he'll at least be present, do his part. ] and I wouldn't want you to miss your debut.
[ That he's certain his mother will hate, so it's important he be there. Should Aegon warn him that she's no longer willfully oblivious to what they get up to now? ... No! He tucks himself in closer to Petre, eyes closing as his fingertips continue ghosting over his skin. ]
You may whisk me into tents in between my tasks if you'd like.
[ A sympathetic sigh. Petre has also been looking forward to being the center of attention — when isn't he? — and it'd be a shame to not see how the audience will react. Not to mention he'd be letting the rest of the cast down (or doing them a favor, depending on one's point of view).
Apparently Aegon had the ability to make him forget that. Cool cool.
He leans in, steals a kiss that lingers just so he can forget for a while longer. ]
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no subject
Yet, Petre serving now as his source of comfort, Aegon doesn't try to escape his attention, or his questions, or try to distract from this entirely with his mouth or the fingers ghosting over Petre's skin. It would be easy to crawl out of bed and find a hole to hide in instead, just as he had done for half his life. But this time, something held him back, some flicker of determination or perhaps just exhaustion from running away for so long. ]
It was Aemond.
[ His frown deepens. Aegon scoots himself a bit closer, snaking his arm tight around Petre, as if his warmth was enough to persuade him to stay. It's still hard to look at him, his violet eyes darting away to trace over Petre's skin where the wounds he'd left were now long gone, leaving only memories etched into the flesh. ]
I believe it was inevitable that we'd hurt each other, but I didn't anticipate him doing something that cuts this deeply.
no subject
You don't have to say anything. [ There's no need for it when they can just use their curse, a mark he and Aegon share as Diabel. He rests his hand on Aegon's side in return, presses his fingers lightly. They're as warm as the rest of his body. ] Show it to me.
no subject
Aegon replays a snippet of the conversation they had anyway, cutting it off before he asks about Kovacs— wasn't relevant. As soon as he does it, he has to resist the urge to peel away from Petre, deciding he's uncomfortable with all of this after all. This was supposed to be his "think about nothing" friend, all laughter and booze and dumb chaos. What the fuck were they now?
His discomfort comes out in a hollow chuckle, and he reaches behind him to find where that bottle had rolled off to. ]
no subject
Lips brush Aegon's neck when he gets the chance. Petre can feel the blood rushing with each heartbeat, faster than when they're resting, maybe more intense than when he's about to come. For the first time, he wants to talk about Caleb. He probably won't. ]
It's like poison.
[ A murmur. ]
no subject
He waits for him to continue, his hand caressing the back of Petre's head, fingertips combing through his hair before they move over his shoulders, along his spine. He doesn't, so: ] I wish, then it'd finish me off, and I wouldn't have to endure the next few days.
no subject
He's always liked fingers in his hair. Did he ever tell Aegon that? ]
We could always just fuck off.
[ No king for the tourney, no star for the play. What a scandal. ]
no subject
[ That he's certain his mother will hate, so it's important he be there. Should Aegon warn him that she's no longer willfully oblivious to what they get up to now? ... No! He tucks himself in closer to Petre, eyes closing as his fingertips continue ghosting over his skin. ]
You may whisk me into tents in between my tasks if you'd like.
🎀?
Apparently Aegon had the ability to make him forget that. Cool cool.
He leans in, steals a kiss that lingers just so he can forget for a while longer. ]
You got it.