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arcielee · 16 hours

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Your Exquisite Suffering Calls To Me

HOTD Aemond x Female Vampire Reader

Tormented by his actions, Aemond is comforted by the most unlikely lady.

House of the Dragon given a classic gothic vampire treatment.

Word Count 4501

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Writer's Notes: My original idea was a simple oneshot inspired by that clip of Aemond. However, a last-minute idea changed it. It is still a fic of hurt and comfort with a touch of smut, but you will see that I left the door wide open to continue this. Since I like it so much, I'm posting it despite not being sure exactly what I'll do with it.

Not beta-read. Any mistakes are mine, so please let me know about them. I'd love to hear what people think about this one. Enjoy!

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Several nights ago, I sensed his approach; even before my exceptional hearing picked up the sounds of his beast's wings as he made his way back to the capital, and I knew that something had happened. Something that would alter the course of history in the realm.

I have not seen him since before his father, King Viserys, died. I have spent the days and nights alone in darkness, letting his tumultuous emotions wash over me like flowing water. I am quite curious; I want to see what he does and how he handles his new Kinslayer status.

I cannot read his thoughts or hear his conversations while he is across the city in the Red Keep, but I can feel what he feels; my heightened senses are now so attuned to my sweet prince.

And tonight, he is tormented. He feels guilt and fear as he struggles to reconcile his impulsive actions, which will surely plunge the realm into war. I know the lie he has told. I think that losing control of his dragon is a secret he will keep. Telling the truth would be admitting weakness to him.

He refuses to admit weakness to anyone, but that does not mean he does not feel it in the solitude of his chambers. Tonight, he suffers to the point where I begin to worry for him. He is resilient, but he has already borne much in his short life. He has never killed before. For most people, taking a life is different and life-changing.

I am covering my dress with a dark cloak and pulling the hood over my head as I leave my home and head towards the towering Red Keep across the city.

Swiftly and soundlessly, I move through the narrow streets and alleys, staying in the shadows. There are few people about at this hour, but I do not concern myself with them. They are no threat to me, even if they see me; to most, I am simply a blur of movement in the corner of their eye.

Those with intimate knowledge of the Red Keep have used the unguarded side door for years, coming and going unseen. I am not familiar with the twisting, dark passages hidden within walls, but I simply follow the call of Aemond’s anguish, allowing his pain to lead me to his chambers. His suffering is like a mournful song that only I can hear.

I do not need a torch; I can see better in complete darkness than the living can in daylight. Soon, I come to a narrow door that I know leads to his chambers. Silently slipping into the room, I pause momentarily to take in my new surroundings.

Only faint moonlight and the soft glow from the fireplace illuminate these rooms.

As my eyes gazed about, I let the various aromas wash over me. I can smell the books that are neatly lined on the bookshelves and stacked around the chamber, as well as the ink and parchment on the intricately carved wooden desk.

As I move so quietly that not even a footstep is audible, the scent of metal swords and daggers mingles with smoke, leather, and wine. But it is his scent that calls to me, overwhelming everything else.

I find him on his bed, the bedclothes strewn about and kicked aside. His long silvery hair is loose, the sapphire that replaces his destroyed eye is uncovered, and he is naked as the day he was born. He lies on his side, his knees drawn up to his chest, curled like a child, suffering alone.

He is awake; his dark dreams ended his hope of restful slumber, but his internal struggle consumes him completely. To anyone unacquainted with his inner strength, he would appear to be a broken man. But I know this will not defeat him. He will endure his pain like he always has, then rally his resolve and iron will to be the warrior that he is expected to be.

I allow my mind to reach out to him, sending subtle impulses of reassurance and calm as I approach his bedside, allowing him to see me.

His eye blinks, and his body stiffens slightly in surprised recognition as I lean over and place my hand on his tightly fisted one.

“Aemond, my sweet prince,” I whisper gently to him. “Do not torment yourself like this; all will be well.”

“My lady, are you truly here?” He wonders aloud as he stares at me, momentarily questioning if he is succumbing to madness.

“Yes, I am here with you,” I reassure him as I climb onto the bed next to him, moving as gracefully as only I can.

In a stronger state, Aemond would immediately react with his warrior instincts and training in response to an unexpected presence in his chambers, but he does not resist and only shudders in desperate relief as I wrap my arm around his bare shoulders, lifting and cradling his head on my lap as if he were a child.

He is so starved for comfort that he cares not how I managed to enter his chambers but only that I am here and that he does not have to bear his anguish alone tonight.

His hand now grasps mine tightly, clutching as if he fears I will disappear if he lets go.

“I killed my nephew, and now he haunts me.” Aemond’s voice is barely above a whisper and rough with distress. “I have shamed my mother and ruined my name, for no man is so accursed as a kinslayer.”

‘Oh, how wrong you are. There are creatures in this world far more cursed than kinslayers.’

However, I suppress that thought and instead respond, "Your mother still loves you, and your story is not yet over, my sweet prince."

“I wanted him to pay for what he did…” Words fail him, as he cannot bring himself to speak the truth that I already know.

“Shhh, dear prince.” With gentle strokes on the pale skin of his arm, I try to soothe him. “We can speak of that another time; now you need to rest.”

Aemond stays silent as he clings to me, and the tension in his body gradually unwinds. He allows himself to cherish the simplicity of my presence and my touch, for this is a rarity for him.

As I remove the long strands of hair from his neck, the beautiful pulsing beneath his skin captivates my attention. My vision can see the blood flowing through the artery, proof of his mortal life, and the desire to taste it surges through me.

‘It would be so easy…’

‘No, not tonight.’

I harshly push aside my darker thoughts, forcing myself to exercise a level of restraint that only centuries of experience can beget.

His soft voice distracts me from my internal struggle.

“You should not be here, but you feel like a beautiful dream, or am I simply going mad?”

“I am here for you, dear prince, and you are not going mad, but you should sleep now.” I whispered to him. “You need your strength now more than ever.”

As my mind coaxes him into a restful state, he manages one soft plea before drifting off. “Stay with me; please do not leave me.”

I sit unnaturally still as I continue to hold him in the darkness of his chambers, listening to the sounds of his breathing, the blood flowing through his body, and the strong and steady beat of his heart. I have ensured that he will sleep soundly and undisturbed by dark dreams.

As I gaze down upon his elegantly sculpted features, now somewhat softened by peaceful slumber, the endearment that I have bestowed on him comes to mind.

‘My sweet prince.’

A wry smile forms on my lips as I wonder when I began to refer to him that way. Sweet is not the first word that comes to mind when describing Aemond Targaryen.

The proud young prince projects cold indifference, but nothing could be further from the truth. He feels intensely. That is what draws me to him.

With all traces of boyish softness gone, this young man is like the most finely crafted Valyrian steel sword, an elegant weapon forged in fire; it has strength that belies its slender beauty and razor-sharp edges that are lethal.

Hurt, resentment, and fury are the fires that have forged Aemond, and I am fascinated by him.

Initially, I was drawn to how one so young could have so much simmering pain and fury yet hide it so well. He has trained himself to fool others with his well-mannered but undemonstrative persona, but I can feel the simmering emotions that he keeps hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

That is why I took the needed steps to gain an introduction to the royal family.

He knows me as a beautiful young widow who recently arrived in King’s Landing from Essos. I am a wealthy widow, able to afford a lovely manse in a prosperous part of the city. I am an educated and cultured young woman, a flower at peak bloom who has been tragically left alone in the world with the death of her husband.

It is a lie, of course. There has never been a husband. The prince has no idea how I have accumulated my wealth over the years. He has no idea that I have lived many more years than my young face shows.

He only knows that I am a vision of perfection—a woman worthy of any man or title. My beauty captivates him, my wit charms him, and my intelligence impresses him.

I was not surprised when I continued to receive invitations to the Red Keep, nor was I surprised that the prince always managed to find his way to my side. I soon found that I actually enjoyed his company, for he is also educated and intelligent.

What surprises me is how easily I can read him. My preternatural senses do give me a great advantage, but I cannot recall ever being able to feel someone else so clearly, to feel what they feel.

It is quite amusing to be near him while knowing that underneath the proper and courteous princely exterior, the most lustful thoughts drive him nearly to distraction. I know he dreams of having me sprawled naked on a bed, with his strong hands and curved lips exploring my body. He pleasures himself while imagining his cock sheathed in my cunt and my legs wrapped around his slim hips while he fucks me.

He has even wondered if Queen Alicent would approve of a marriage between us.

However, with the death of King Viserys, everything changed.

Expected to help secure an alliance, the ever-loyal and dutiful son set aside his desires and flew to Storm's End to bind House Baratheon to his brother Aegon through a betrothal with himself and one of the young ladies Baratheon.

I know that he would have rather come to me, pledged his love to me, and swearing that he could not live without me, rather than climb the ropes on his dragon Vhagar and fly off to Storm’s End. I felt it.

Now that he sleeps deeply, the stress has finally left his body. His legs, once tightly bent to his chest, now stretch to their full length. I ease my way off of his bed, sliding a pillow under his head and disengaging my hand from his. As I draw a discarded blanket over him, I cannot help but admire his body. He is tall with lean, hard muscle from years of weapons training, which enhances his lithe frame and long limbs.

‘Such a unique and rare combination of masculine beauty.’

‘But what does he mean to me?’

That is the question I ask myself as I quietly slip out of his chambers, confident that Aemond will sleep peacefully until well past sunrise. Silently, I quickly retrace the steps I took to enter and now leave the Red Keep. I do not move towards my home, but instead I seek the narrow and filthy alleys of Flea Bottom.

I also need my strength, but I do not sleep; I feed instead.

The sun is setting on King’s Landing, and I calmly await a visit from Prince Aemond.

I could have planted the suggestion that my appearance in his chambers last night was only a dream, but I chose not to. I could have also taken the memory from him completely, but I chose not to.

Throughout the day, he had obsessed over my mysterious appearance in his chambers. He is certain that I was there, but he struggles to understand how I could have been. He cannot rest until he knows, and only I can answer the questions that perplex him. So he will come to see me as soon as he can free himself from duties and war preparations.

I know that if I confirm that I did indeed visit his chambers last night on the pretense that I missed him and was concerned about him, he will latch onto that and cling to it with all of his strength. Admitting that I risked myself by sneaking into the Red Keep to see him will bind him to me more than any spoken declarations of love.

More than anything, he desires to be first in someone’s eyes and someone’s heart. If he believes that there is nothing he will not do to keep it.

Aemond, a prince and a trueborn son of a king, was maimed by a bastard whelp and yet his own father placed justice for him second. Even though he has strived to be the perfect son to his mother, he still feels like a second son to her, despite her deep love. He is a second son who believes he is better than the first.

Now he is a man, and the strongest bond he has in life is with a beast, a dragon.

Your senses tell you, 'He has left the Keep and made his way here.'

I have already decided that we will become lovers tonight.

I have taken lovers over the years, but to me, they have only been brief dalliances, amusing diversions to satisfy my desires and be with the living. But none of them have ever meant anything to me, really.

And I certainly never entertained the thought of revealing my true nature or sharing my dark gift with any of them.

‘But this one is different.’

Is he different, or have I simply grown weary of my solitary existence? I have not spent any significant length of time with anyone since the near century I stayed with my mistress, the one who made me what I am.

One of my servants comes to announce the arrival of the prince, but he is only a few steps behind, impatient and unwilling to wait. Normally, it would be considered impolite to enter before knowing if one will be received, but I overlook his haste.

The facade of the reserved prince has returned, and the rest clearly did him well. He stands tall, impeccably groomed, and dressed in his preferred black clothing, with his long, straight hair pulled back from his face and the rest long and loose.

“My lady,” he begins as he approaches. “Please forgive my unannounced visit, but I needed to see you.”

Giving him a gracious smile, I responded, “You are always welcome here, my prince. I am happy to see that you look well.” As I pour two cups of wine, I add, “I have been worried for you in these trying times.”

I can see his posture stiffen and his eye dart to the floor at a reminder of the current state of the realm. He is also uncertain of how to ask the questions he wants to.

He normally has no qualms about taking charge, but he is quite hesitant regarding this matter.

Though I have invited him to sit, he chooses to remain standing. The delicate silk of my dress flows as I almost glide lightly over to him, handing him a cup of the finest wine one can buy.

I chose what I wear specifically for him tonight. I have chosen a dress that would be too scandalous for a proper lady of Westeros to wear, even in the privacy of her own home. The loose layers of silk plunge deeply between my breasts before twisting at my waist into a flowing skirt that ends just above my ankles, showing my embroidered slippers.

After taking one small sip of my wine, I turn slightly to place my cup on a table, and I hear his sharp intake of breath as he sees the deep drape of my gown that leaves the flawless skin of my back revealed with only one daintily tied ribbon holding the sapphire blue silk together.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” I take a subtle half-step closer to him as I tilt my head slightly to gaze up at his face.

The flaring of his nostrils and a barely imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth reveal the struggle to maintain his composure, but his eye is something he cannot hide. The striking, purplish blue color has already darkened with his desire for me. I watch his throat move as he swallows before speaking. But there is also conflict within him, I sense.

“You came to me last night, in my chambers,” he begins, his voice low and with a hint of menace. “I do not understand how or why, but you should not have done that.”

‘His pride is wounded that I saw him like that.’

Suddenly, he grasps my wrist and pulls me closer to him. “Why were you in my chambers last night?’ His voice is cold.

I could use my mind to tamp down his agitation, but I want to see what will win out—his anger or his desire. I purposely look away from his face and give no response.

His grip tightens as he battles to decide whether he should be angry at me for invading his private chambers or ecstatic that I would go to such lengths to see him.

“How did you manage to get into the Red Keep? How did you gain access to my chambers?”

I lower my eyes and say, "I had to, my prince. I have been so concerned for you.”

“My lady, answer my question.” He demands it harshly.

“Please do not be angry with me, Aemond,” I plead with him. “I bribed my way in because I was afraid.” Placing my hand over his, I continue, “There are many rumors spreading through the city, and I am frightened for you.”

His mouth tightens, and he looks away for a moment before the tension in his shoulders eases somewhat. He gazes down at me intently, taking hold of my much smaller hands with his larger ones.

“I wish you had not done it, but we will discuss your unlawful entry into the Red Keep later,” he says, his voice softening just a bit as he speaks.

“Aemond, please forgive me. I only wanted to see you.” Before I proceed, I bite my lip hesitantly. “But I was right to be worried for you.”

His discomfort with me seeing him in that state is obvious, but he does not doubt my good intentions.

“You need not worry for me nor risk yourself like that,” he insists stubbornly.

"But I will worry for you," I profess, gripping his hands tighter. “You have become dear to me, and I want to help you in any way I can.”

I watch as he closes his eye, but he says nothing for a moment. Then he leans his head to rest his forehead against mine. I can hear his heartbeat quicken, and I can sense his desire to give in to his need for affection.

He releases one of my hands and wraps his arm around my waist. I feel his open palm on the bare skin of my back and feel the slight tremble of his hand while his lips barely graze my cheek as they move closer to mine.

Our first kiss begins hesitantly and gently before gradually deepening, with his lips becoming more demanding and his tongue sliding between my parted ones. My arm reaches around his shoulders, and fingers tangle in his silvery hair as we stand pressed together tightly embraced.

I can taste the wine he drank, smell the oils on his skin, and hear the soft sounds of our kisses. I cannot remember the last time I was this heady with lust.

“If you do not wish this to go further, please stop me now.” He whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

“No, I do not want you to stop.” My response comes out as a moan when my lips move to his neck and I feel the blood-filled artery just beneath his skin. The urge to sink my fangs into his skin is nearly overwhelming.

I take hold of his arm and begin to lead him to my bedchamber, my heightened state giving me a sense of urgency. Reaching my bedside, my fingers make quick work of his doublet's gold buckles, and he pulls the fine ribbon that holds my gown together, letting the delicate fabric float to the floor.

The two of us make quick work of the rest of his clothing. As we fall onto my bed, our tongues are tasting each other's skin, and our fingers are caressing and grasping. Aemond's cock is hard, and I can tell he is trying to restrain himself, wanting to prolong what he has imagined many times.

I am sprawled wantonly before him, with him kneeling between my spread thighs, just the way he has imagined me, my breast filling his palm as he pushes two long fingers inside me, making me sigh with pleasure.

He forcefully grips my hips, yanking me closer so that the wetness from my cunt coats the reddish tip of his cock. Excitement and anticipation flood my body.

‘He needs to assert his dominance over me after showing his weakness last night.’

He suddenly tears off his eye patch, a rare impulsive act for him, revealing the damage to his eye and the almost ethereal sight of the gem where an eye should be. He studies my face, looking for any sign of revulsion or fear, needing to know if I will accept him as he is.

However, I am no skittish mortal, and I no longer feel fear. If I believed in gods, I would think he was one, so perfect he is to me.

With a sultry smile that conveys my desire for him, I raise my arms over my head, cross my wrists, and cling to a pillow in a sign of complete submission to him, silently telling him that he can do as he pleases with my body.

With an almost low snarl, he begins to push his hard, veiny length into me, not stopping until I have taken all of him.

I can only sigh at the divine fullness and heat that spreads through me. When he withdraws and drives himself deeply in, my back arches.

Our coupling is not gentle but fierce, as he needs to assuage his damaged pride and wants to test my limits, unaware that I have no limits. Curling my shapely legs around his slim hips, I meet each powerful thrust.

I am mesmerized watching the strain of his exertion on his muscles and tendons as we fuck. Neither of us last very long, but we experience intense peaks that give us the release we both desperately wanted.

In the past, I have not cared for staying in bed next to my lovers, pretending to sleep. However, tonight, I am content to lay with him for a time. With Aemond's body pressed against my back, his arms encircling me, and his legs entwined with mine, I find myself relishing the sensation of his embrace, and it's undeniable that he craves it.

As much as I have captivated the prince, he has also captivated me. Feelings have reawakened within me that I previously believed had vanished. No one, not when I was alive and not during my time as a vampire, has drawn me like he does.

I find that I spoke the truth when I said that he has become dear to me. And I have never even considered making another like me. However, I am considering it now.

I have tired of being alone, with no true love to share this existence with. Could he be one to spend eternity with, or at least lifetimes?

I easily slip from the bed without waking him, for I want to think without the feeling of his warmth around me. After wrapping a robe around my body, I move to the window to gaze out into the night.

I have existed for several lifetimes of the living and could continue for eternity. I have grown accustomed to having the luxury of time, but with this tormented prince, I fear I have no time.

War comes, and he is now the most vilified man in the realm. Every enemy will seek to bring down the kinslayer, either in battle or by more clandestine means. The black queen will want to avenge her son.

I could intervene; I could make him invincible, unable to die in battle because he has already died by my hand and been reborn as an immortal prince.

But I would also give him great power. What would he wish to do with that power?

‘He would want to rule.’

He is a Targaryen, already predisposed to greatness or madness, and Aemond exists on that sharp edge.

All thoughts leave my mind abruptly, except for a question that leaves me stunned. If I shared my dark gift with Aemond, would he also share a gift with me?

‘The blood of the dragon.’

That is what they call it. It is said the Old Valyrian mages used blood magic to bind the dragons to them.

By letting him drink my blood, I would remake him as a nearly invincible immortal, but by drinking his blood, would I acquire the blood of the dragon? Would I be able to bond with one of those great flying beasts and become a dragon rider myself?

For the first time in over a century, I truly laugh. It is not a forced laugh to play the part of a young woman while I spend time with the living, but an almost girlish giggle of exhilaration at the possibilities.

I had learned all that my dark mistress had to teach me, but I had never heard of anything like this before.

‘Is it possible? I intend to find out.’

Tagging @anukulee @connorsui @marthawrites @arcielee

#to read: arcie #AHHHHH YES

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