holyposition | IC Inbox

No.

[ He approaches now, fists clenched at his side. This is how I am, again, as if he's an animal with no free will of his own, a prince (no, regent,) and dragonrider devoid of any agency. Tim doesn't accept it. He can't accept it. His heart pounds in his chest, that tingle of unease breaking free into something darker and uglier. Anger. ]

You don't get to dismiss me like I'm a servant. [ Brown eyes ablaze, close enough to see Aemond with clarity. Treacherous. Cowardly. ] If you don't want me, be a man and tell me so. Don't frame it like you're doing me a favor.

Were I to treat you as a servant I would not bother speaking with you at all. You confuse yourself about me. Perhaps that is my mistake, in not having made clear who I am.

[ he sees the reproach now, and wonders if tim has ever truly understood the honour that aemond has given him. if he has ever thought to wonder about the worth of the concessions aemond has made in silence to please him. tim claims to have never complained, but here he stands throwing it back to aemond's face when aemond calls on the oaths long given, promises aemond has not faltered in keeping true.

he gives only what he gives, and accepts only what is given. he asks no further, demands no further. he has never been anything but himself, and now that his less pretty, gentle parts are given light, tim recoils entire. ]

Your way then. I do not want you.

Return to your man, Laughlin, you are dismissed.

[ It's the coolness of it all that bothers him more than anything else. He says it so easily, as if all of this has meant nothing, as if he feels nothing. That can't be true. He's held this man as he's confessed to his darkest moments, invited him in to help him mend after Eddie's attack, seen the ferocity with which he's insisted on Tim's protection. He knows that Aemond is not unfeeling. Something's gotten into him, and he's getting to the bottom of it. ]

You're lying. Or you have been, until now. Which is it?

[ Needling, looking for a reaction, any reaction, that isn't cold and stoic. Tim can't be that way. He's never even tried, useless as he knows it would be. He feels too deeply, gets attached too quickly. He blinks back tears as he presses on, itching for a raised voice in response, a fight, anything. ]

I thought I had a man, right here in front of me. But you're just a boy pretending, aren't you?

[ here he is, aemond targaryen the one-eye, the kinslayer. tim laughlin would not have survived a fraction of what aemond has, and he would dare insult him so. does he think aemond unable to see through the attempt? when his own mother has torn him apart in nearly every way she could, just to remind him of his youth?

tim will not yield to grace, that much is clear, and aemond tires of it all. with casual disregard aemond hums, steps around tim and walks away.

there is nothing for him to say, and nothing for tim that he will hear. ]

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