[ she’s ash’s girl, another piece of embry slotting into place. the one he would have ash choose, so he might tighten his grip on the throne. now that she’s seen the way they both grieved embry, she wonders if they would not rather have him, too. a thought unlikely to be well-received by one so freshly returned (and grieving himself). she squeezes his hand, as if to pretend hers isn’t hurt all that bad actually, and gives the slightest wince. ridiculous.

at the question, her eyes fix on their linked hands. a telling flutter of her lashes and tug at her mouth. it’s a shameful thing, always has been. her father has scolded for it since she was a girl and now aemond has taken up the miserable work in his absence. you’re the most comely girl at court. why do you destroy yourself? ]

No. It is — an ugly habit. [ unbecoming of a queen. ] I thought I had overcome it. Before the game.

[ an admission of how deeply the last month has affected her, if her thinner form and shadowed eyes did not convey as much already. ]

[ attempting a dry tone, ] Though I’ve now hurt people most dear to me, so perhaps it’s fitting.

[ that she hurts, too, even in this small way. ]