[ there is an abundance in the absence of detail, the equivocation an answer in and of itself. aemond would know this well; he does the same when he argues with his mother own.
mercy, then. or perhaps a single kindness. aemond shares no affection with embry, but he would like to be free of his gratitude to the man. ]
You refused her, then. Worse, you rejected her. Am I wrong in my assumption?
[ echoes of daemon turning him away when he'd asked in his grief. daniel himself, denying aemond to keep peace with alicent and choosing her as she deserved. how bitter the rejections had sat on his tongue, how shamed he felt for having bared his weakness and still undesirable in that vulnerable state. but now he calls to daemon and daniel both in his time of need, understanding their reasons with the clarity of hindsight. would his mother be so willing? near word for word, he echoes to embry the advice he'd given another on this very same matter not too long ago: ]
You cannot undo what you have done. It is done. Once you have lost favour or trust, you can only regain it with as great and as loud an effort as the offence that caused its ruin. Nothing else will equal, and you'll be a greater fool to think anything less than that will be accepted.
Mother will come to you or she will not. Better you should ask her yourself.
no subject
mercy, then. or perhaps a single kindness. aemond shares no affection with embry, but he would like to be free of his gratitude to the man. ]
You refused her, then. Worse, you rejected her. Am I wrong in my assumption?
[ echoes of daemon turning him away when he'd asked in his grief. daniel himself, denying aemond to keep peace with alicent and choosing her as she deserved. how bitter the rejections had sat on his tongue, how shamed he felt for having bared his weakness and still undesirable in that vulnerable state. but now he calls to daemon and daniel both in his time of need, understanding their reasons with the clarity of hindsight. would his mother be so willing? near word for word, he echoes to embry the advice he'd given another on this very same matter not too long ago: ]
You cannot undo what you have done. It is done. Once you have lost favour or trust, you can only regain it with as great and as loud an effort as the offence that caused its ruin. Nothing else will equal, and you'll be a greater fool to think anything less than that will be accepted.
Mother will come to you or she will not. Better you should ask her yourself.