A gust of wind brought Aemond’s attention to the faint sound of rustling leaves. Some would call him an acquaintance, even an old friend.
"I supposed the devil would seek an invitation; I didn't take you for a pervert."
"A preacher's daughter?" He asks, his voice reverberating, and for a moment, Aemond couldn't stifle the snort that left her at the irony of it all.
A preacher's daughter who has yet to be condemned to her fate.
What Aemond has with Jacaerys is too fragile to risk, after Aemond spent so long yearning to hold her again. Whether it be as a friend or a lover, none of these things mattered to her.
"What is it you seek from me?" She eventually inquires, entertaining the presence she had been granted with.
"What is it that you intend to do?" He comes forward with a question again, this time more demanding.
"I am free to do as I please and go where I want." Aemond quips, now leaning against the tub and allowing the water to engulf her in warmth, something her body no longer knows.
"Ah," his presence grew solemn, "you may be pardoned by me and condemned by God, but you're not freed from your end of the bargain."
When ignoring the looming presence became unbearable, she furrowed her brows and closed her eyes, asking, "who is to stop me?"
"Fate." He concluded.
She would love— and she had loved Jacaerys even when the skin she sought warmth from turned cold in the face of death, she would still count each freckle. She had lost count of the ruby tears singing songs of an imminent departure before reunion.
Jacaerys was, and will always be her hope, her pleasure and the song she wishes to never come to an end.
Aemond could lay here, fighting back bitter tears of being cursed to roam and being the one to remember, wondering why she kept repeating the vicious cycle.
Was it out of love or desperation?
"...And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
At first, Jacaerys wondered if she had stumbled upon a dream or something ethereal. She vividly recalls the long silver hair and eyes reminding her of the finest jewels.
From the eloquence in her speech to her knowledge, could she have admitted to harboring jealousy? Or was it admiration? She couldn't tell, not anymore. The woman spoke with confidence—she spoke as if she had always been there, witnessing the rise and fall of all.
How could it be? A mortal yet closer to a divine being.
With only a towel to cover her, Aemond opened the wooden door. A slight creak came about, alerting Jacaerys who swiftly sat up on her bed.
There were parts of Jacaerys that never changed; a mole on her arm still remained, as did her dark brown curls, untamed and like velvet between her fingertips. Her voice is nearly unrecognizable, but still, it is hers.
"And how grave is the sin you pray to be washed away?" A questioning brow raised on Aemond’s face as she began to vacate further from the door after closing it.
Centuries had passed, yet it never occurred to her that she would be here again, standing under the watchful eye of God, aware of the Pandora's box she had once opened.
All for a vow once spoken.
She knew what she would face: an eternity without her. To live and witness each season come into full bloom and then for them to wither away.
Mayhaps the cruelest prize to pay was to love.
"I’m praying for..." Jacaerys began to panic, avoiding the blue of Aemond’s eyes. Her eyes trailed to the long legs, then to the bare shoulders and finally she lifted her gaze.
Had the woman known of the rotten apple in Jacaerys’ hand? Was she aware of the apple and how the seed it blossomed from came to be?
The woman with blue eyes conveying melancholy akin to a mournful hum is a person who could as well be a friend. Jacaerys would admit that she was afraid of being condemned for the venom plaguing heart.
Aemond only hummed, softly caressing the younger woman's thigh as she sat next to her on the bed while slipping her fingers under the white nightgown. "And what have they done to require forgiveness?”
"God has spared you... so I won't turn you away." Against Jacaerys’ expectations, there is no disappointment or a hint of anger in the blue eyes that stare at her; all she came to find is the cause of her prayers for forgiveness.
"You are a very good girl, a devoted believer," Aemond whispers, leaning closer, "but that also makes you a very bad liar."
"Tell me, what is it that plagues you?" Aemond encouraged her after inspecting the younger woman's face.
"No matter how small it is when it starts... you must immediately stop it, right?" Jacaerys spoke quietly, afraid of being heard.
"Have you come to sin out of desire?”
"Yes." Jacaerys’ voice trembles at the admission, quivering like a deer on the verge of flight, yet she remains still, anticipating.
They spoke as if there was no need for persuasion, Jacaerys had come to understand; she needed her, and out of all she had longed for the woman. A part of her knew she was foolish to trust Aemond, a woman whose vow became a sin.
Had she given Aemond a chance to pull her away from the heavens, would the woman do so?
"If I am the shepherd, are you a willing lamb?"
Her breath smells of wine, and Jacaerys yearns to taste it on her tongue. When Aemond’s hand first touched her, Jacaerys only then understood what made lust a sin; it swallowed her.
"Tell me, will you follow me and let me guide you?"
"I can help you repent." Jacaerys offers, firmly instead, cautiously lifting her hands to cup the older woman's face; the skin beneath her fingertips was cold, yet a voice in the back of her head warned her that the flame underneath her own skin would bring warmth but also destruction had it grown ablaze.
"I don’t want forgiveness," Aemond deadpanned, finding herself smiling at the confusion dawning upon Jacaerys. "I want you."
One could fall from grace as quickly as they rose to it. God cared not for its pawns, and neither did the devil, for he had woven a string of fate around them.
A remembrance of the past, the tragedy of two lovers bound to repeat their fate for all eternity without redemption.
"What does your God say of me?" Aemond murmurs, "I devote all my attention to you, so tell me."
"We both know what I am," Aemond adds.
"He speaks of your hunger, the want for more without an end, even at the cost of..." Jacaerys spoke again, this time bordering a whisper, unable to take her eyes off the woman.
Aemond only nodded, amused by the girl's attempt. "At the cost of..."
"Someone's life." Jacaerys blinks, suddenly all too aware. Her eyes finally falling to her hands.
Shutting her eyes, Aemond let out a sigh. "Have I come for your life?"
"No, you haven't and you won't." Jacaerys replies, sure in her word.
You never have.
Aemond is left to wonder who tempted whom.
The two hearts beating eventually found a rhythm– so familiar, as if they had seeked each other for so long, in the future, in the past and finally found it.
Aemond whispers words and vows kept hidden between the kisses she plants on Jacaerys’ shoulders, then to her collarbones. "You're doing so well," Aemond says softly, licking her lips.
She maintains eye contact with Jacaerys for a brief moment, during which she can see lust inhabiting the brown eyes, she let her eyes linger on Jacaerys’ features, decorated with vast shades of red before she bows her head back down and kisses between Jacaerys' breasts.
How could she not?
In a fleeting moment, Aemond wanted to see Jacaerys’ life wither away, to crush her. Would the girl plead for God, or would she plead for her, the one who caused her fall from grace, for the one who had condemned them to this fate?
God was said to be all knowing, but did he know there was no gospel, no altar, which could compare to how Jacaerys spread her legs and sang a melody of nothing but sin?
"Please—"
The pleas were for her; that much was certain. It is like the sweet melody of a siren calling her in, leaving no choice to but to indulge.
She desires more of it hungrily, greedily—the intimacy of being known, seen, and no longer forgotten. She desires Jacaerys above all, beyond reason.
What does a dead woman have to be afraid of?
At some point, Jacaerys vaguely feels Aemond pressing a kiss on her forehead. Aemond finds it nearly endearing how Jacaerys does as she is told—a sweet thing.
A pure being in all her lives.
"Aemond." Jacaerys merely mouthes the other's name, for she is bereft of air.
Jacaerys muffles her moans against Aemond’s shoulder, eyes squeezing shut, and she whimpers as she becomes undone. Nothing like the composed, devoted believer Jacaerys plays at being.
A fragment of Aemond’s heart would always remain with each form Jacaerys took, and she would find each one of them.
Again.
And again.
"Had I met you in another life..." Jacaerys mumbles as her face turns solemn, "I would've had the chance to love you free of guilt."
"Darling, you already have," she rasps.
It was a cruel thing to love, yet it was God's greatest gift.
"For a thousand lifetimes."
And for a thousand more, she would continue to do so.