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targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 days

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Blood of My Blood

Summary: Stuck between duty and passion, she is given no choice but to yield to the game Aemond wishes to play | Words: 4.1k~ | Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, incest (character is implied to have strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping, forced marriage

Can be read as a stand-alone or as a part two for The Blood is Rare!

His fingers tightened around her arm, the pressure a mix of anger and possessiveness. He forcefully ushered her across the threshold of the chambers she once called home, back when she resided there alongside the Hightower children. The worn flagstones caused her feet to stumble, while her forearm throbbed with bruises from his grip. She shot him a glance filled with both hurt and fury.

“You cannot treat me like this,” she spat viciously.

Aemond merely stepped back, his expression unyielding. "You are to be my wife. I'll treat you as I please."

Before she could reach the double doors, they slammed shut, brass fixtures rattling as Aemond hastened to secure her inside. Despite her feeble attempts to push back against the doors, her fists bruised from the effort, he locked her in without hesitation.

“They will come for me!” she screamed in protest, “unlock this, at once!”

Locked within the confines of the chamber, her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and defiance. She paced the room, her mind racing with thoughts of escape and retribution. Outside, the distant echoes of footsteps and murmured voices hinted at the presence of guards or servants, but she knew she couldn't rely on them for help.

King Viserys was dead. And Alicent Hightower planted her son on her mother’s throne.

As the hours dragged on, her frustration grew with each passing moment. She tried every possible means of escape, but the sturdy oak doors remained firmly shut, sealing her fate within the chamber. Her mind raced with thoughts of her family, of the kingdom thrown into turmoil by the sudden death of King Viserys. And now, with Aemond's revelation of his family's plan to anoint Aegon on the morrow, she realised the true extent of the danger she faced.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing outside her prison. The door creaked open, and Aemond stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. She studied his face, and saw he looked slightly withered and tired, covered with a mask of coldness.

"We have much to discuss," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But first, you must understand the gravity of the situation."

She eyed him warily, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"Aegon will be crowned tomorrow," he explained, his tone solemn. "And my family has plans for us as well."

Her stomach churned with dread as she listened to his words. "What plans?"

"A marriage," he said simply, his gaze unwavering. "In the traditions of our ancestors, to solidify our alliance and secure our place in the new realm."

Her mind reeled at the thought of marrying the man who had imprisoned her against her will. But she knew that in the game of thrones, alliances were forged with marriages as much as with swords.

A tension-laden silence filled the chamber, thick with unspoken words and unyielding resolve. her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed her options, acutely aware of the consequences of her decision. The memory of their clandestine tryst, a moment of forbidden passion she dared not admit she had enjoyed, lingered in the recesses of her mind, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the situation.

"I will not be your pawn," she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

A flicker of anger flashed across Aemond's face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold mask of indifference.

"You have no choice," he said icily. "You will marry me, for the good of our families and the realm. Just as Daeron will wed a Baratheon girl, to secure-"

She shook her head stubbornly, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I will not be forced into a marriage I do not want."

Aemond's gaze narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not be foolish, mandianna. You have a duty to your family, to the legacy of House Targaryen. You will marry me, and you will bear me heirs to secure our place in history."

But she refused to be swayed by his empty words. "I will not be your broodmare, and I will not be shackled to you for the rest of my days," she declared, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Not when you have already taken so much from me."

Aemond's expression darkened, his features contorted with anger. "Do not speak to me of what I have taken," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You gave yourself to me willingly, and now you will suffer the consequences."

She swallowed thickly, her pride blurring the edges of what she knew was the truth.

“He is no King of mine.”

A heavy silence settled over the chamber, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a shroud of defiance. Aemond's eye blazed with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed as if he might shatter his teeth with the force of his anger. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them palpable. The threat of declaring treason hung heavy.

Finally, Aemond broke the silence, his voice cold and menacing. "You dare to defy me," he hissed, his words dripping with contempt. "You would betray your own blood, your own family, for the sake of your misguided principles?"

She met his gaze head-on, her chin lifted defiantly despite the tremble in her limbs. "I will not betray my mother," she declared, her voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at her insides. "You speak of blood after years of declaring me and my brothers alike your sole distaste.”

Aemond's nostrils flared with barely contained rage at her words, his eye narrowing into a slit as he took a step closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. "Do not presume to lecture me on matters of blood," he seethed, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You may share the blood of House Targaryen, but you lack the fire that defines our lineage."

“Careful, Uncle,” she whispered, her voice tinged with fury, “I am as much Targaryen as you.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Aemond's features, his gaze faltering for a moment before hardening once more into a mask of disdain. "You may share the name, but you lack the strength and resolve to wield it," he sneered, his words like a lash that cut through the air between them. "You are nothing but a weak, insignificant girl who fancies herself a dragon."

Her jaw tightened at Aemond's cutting words, her resolve hardening as she refused to let his insults diminish her spirit. "Strength is not defined by the size of one's flames, Uncle," she retorted, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.

Aemond's lip curled in a mixture of anger and begrudging admiration. Despite himself, he couldn't deny the fire that burned within her, the same fire that had characterised the Targaryen bloodline for generations. "You have spirit, I'll give you that," he conceded, his voice low and grudgingly impressed. "But spirit alone will not save you from the realities of this world."

She held his gaze, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she felt the tension between them crackle like lightning in the air. Despite their antagonistic exchange, there was an undeniable chemistry that simmered just beneath the surface, a primal attraction that neither of them could ignore.

As if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Aemond took another step closer, his eye darkening with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "You may defy me, niece," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "But deep down, you know that we are bound together by more than just blood and duty."

She felt her throat close up, her body betraying what she wanted him to believe about her. That she recoiled at the mere sight of him. That she could not bear to be within the same quarters. That she hated him.

And all of it was a lie.

She would not have given herself so freely to him in that darkened alcove if she truly loathed him. And yet her pride marred the truth.

“You will be my wife,” Aemond stated, his voice devoid of negotiation. It was a command, wrapped in the certainty of his position, a reflection of the harsh realities of their lineage and the role they played in the ongoing struggle for power.

Her reaction was a mix of defiance and disbelief. This was not the offer of a partner, but the demand of a prince used to being obeyed. Yet, even as the words hung in the air between them, she could not ignore the complex web of emotions that tied her to this man. There was no love in this arrangement, but there was something else—something harder to define.

“You speak of marriage as though it were another battle to be won. I am not spoils of war to be claimed.”

Aemond’s eye, ever so piercing, momentarily hardened, hinting at the turmoil beneath his princely facade. His hand flew out, gripping her jaw as he had done that steamy evening, clutching her skin in his long fingers - a warning.

“Come with me, willingly or not. It is your choice, niece.”

Her eyes locked onto his with a fierceness that could rival any dragon's gaze, attempting to sear his very soul with her stare. Yet, in defiance of the forceful hand upon her jaw, she wrenched herself free, her breathing heavy with indignation. The so-called choice he presented felt like a cruel jest, highlighting the absence of any real agency she possessed.

The machinations of the Greens had cornered her into this union with Aemond, rendering any thought of escape futile from the outset.

Their wedding was a somber affair, marked more by the exchange of solemn vows and cold, resentful looks than any semblance of joy or union. Throughout the ceremony, her thoughts wandered, detached from the grim proceedings. And when the final blessings were about to be pronounced, she turned abruptly, her last vestiges of defiance carrying her away to the solitude of her quarters.

The sense of betrayal that churned within her was overwhelming, a treachery not only to her mother's cause but to herself. The disappointment her family would feel loomed over her, a burden more oppressive than the iron crown could ever be.

Moreover, the realisation that this marriage was orchestrated merely to secure an heir, to bind her bloodline to Aemond's as a political safeguard against total war, was revolting.

Standing alone, she tried to steady her trembling hands by focusing on the wine cup she held, just as Aemond's footsteps halted behind her. She braced herself for an encounter she dreaded, yet his next words took her by surprise.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” he said simply.

She spun around, half-expecting to confront a man prepared to enforce his will regardless of her consent. Instead, she met his gaze and found something unexpected—a reflection of restraint and perhaps a hint of understanding.

In that moment, a complex array of emotions coursed through her, challenging her perceptions and forcing her to acknowledge the intricate layers of their predicament.

“I will not lay with you tonight. You do not wish it.”

Her guard, so meticulously maintained, began to falter at the honesty in his words. "And what of tomorrow?" she asked, a tinge of cynicism threading her question. "When the sun rises, will your sense of duty not dictate our interactions?”

"It likely will," he conceded, the corners of his mouth turning down in a grimace. "But tonight, you've had enough battles to face. I won't add to them."

The silence that fell between them was filled with a tentative understanding, a fragile thread connecting two individuals caught in the crossfire of political machinations and familial obligations.

Yet, she was acutely aware that Aemond was not a mere bystander in the unfolding of these events. And it would be a mistake for him to assume she would quietly acquiesce to their circumstances.

Throughout the following day, Aemond's absence hung over her like a shadow, his presence felt more in his lack than in actuality. The dread of uncertainty twisted in her stomach, her mind conjuring scenarios that left her restless and wide-eyed, staring at the chamber doors until the early hours. The knowledge of her new status as his wife did nothing to ease her apprehension. It only highlighted her vulnerability, the potential for him to assert his marital rights in a way that robbed her of any semblance of control.

Yet, despite her fears, Aemond remained absent, his intentions opaque, leaving her to grapple with the anxiety of anticipation alone. The silence of the night was broken only by the distant, powerful beats of Vhagar's wings, a sound that resonated with ominous foreboding. She watched from her window as the great dragon, with Aemond upon her back, vanished into the stormy clouds that brooded overhead.

When Aemond returned to their chambers, it was not the composed prince who entered but a man storming in, soaked to the bone, his demeanor radiating tight, barely controlled anger. The storm outside mirrored his internal tempest, the rain that clung to him a testament to the chaos that seemed to follow in his wake.

His sudden appearance in the dead of night, the way he moved with a predatory grace, charged the air with a palpable tension. She could see in his expression the fracture of a man who had lost control, his ego bruised by the events that had transpired, a dangerous edge to his anger that made her heart race.

In that moment, the dynamics of their relationship stood on a knife's edge, the events of the night poised to define the course of their future interactions. It was a test of wills, a confrontation between power and vulnerability, where the choices they made could either bridge the gap between them or widen it into an insurmountable chasm.

"Aemond," she began, her voice steady despite the fear that threatened to choke her words. "What has happened?"

He halted mid-pace, turning towards her. The flicker of the candles reflected off his wet face, casting shadows that made his expression all the more inscrutable. "The game has changed," he said through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.

Her eyes traced his movements, every nerve alight.

“What game?” She dared to ask.

Aemond's gaze was steel, the kind that cut deeper than swords. "The game we're all pawns in—the game for the Iron Throne." His words were heavy, laden with a darkness that seemed to suck the warmth from the room.

“Aemond, tell me plainly. What have you done.”

Her voice was terse, but it trembled.

There was a hardness in his gaze, a glint of something fierce and unyielding.

"Luke," he finally uttered, his tone laden with a severity that chilled her to the bone.

In that instant, clarity and horror crashed over her like a wave. Luke was gone, his life extinguished in the brutal game of thrones that spared no one, not even the innocent. A gnawing question arose within her: Had her mother been informed, or was she, too, left in the dark until now?

The realisation that Aemond, now her husband, had been responsible for her brother's death sent a shiver of fear down her spine. The man standing before her, cloaked in shadows and rain, was no longer just the prince she had been bound to in a marriage of convenience. He was a killer, capable of extinguishing a life—a life she had cherished. Luke's laughter, his teasing smile, the memories they shared, all extinguished in a moment's violence. And if Luke, then why not her?

Aemond's demeanour shifted, perhaps sensing the change in her perception. "You fear me now," he stated, not a question but a flat acknowledgement.

She took a cautious step back, her mind racing. The man before her, powerful enough to command dragons and armies, had shown he did not shy away from kinslaying. "I believe I ought to" she countered, her voice a whisper of defiance.

He paused, and in that silence, the harsh reality of their situation seemed to settle around them like a cloak. As Aemond moved closer, intending to assert himself, she couldn't suppress the instinctual urge to retreat. The space between them, filled with the unsaid and the undone, seemed insurmountable.

She could not help the stark whimper that escaped her when his fingers formed a fist in her hair at the back of her head, pulling her unyielding face up to meet his, his angered breath spilling over her face.

“You believe I would harm you.”

How could she not? She thought. He had so often shown a calm, quiet anger. And unleashed it all within a short afternoon, with Luke's body somewhere at the bottom of the sea surrounding Storm’s End.

“You dare to question this when you have murdered my brother,” she spat back at him.

Jaw clenched, Aemond raised his other hand to his eye patch, quickly ripping it off to reveal to her what was beneath it. The angry red scar extended from his forehead to his cheek, jagged, clumsy. And where his eye would have been was raw, a bright sapphire sitting firmly within the socket, forboding.

Of course, she knew what Luke had done, but she had never seen him like this. Fear gripped at her skin, and a strange throbbing between her thighs at the way he looked over her like this. Thought she attempted to now show that on her face.

Her expression must have mirrored poor Luke's mere hours before, as her new husband gazed down at her, his demeanour terrifyingly calm.

“You defend your little bastard brother after how he has maimed me?”

“Aemond, please-” she pleaded, only moving away an inch before her husband tugged her back, tighter.

“Your brother was of no use to this realm. But you,” he spat, one hand tucking up her skirts and then meanly digging at her hips, “I need your sweet little cunt for my heirs, mandianna.”

She felt her mouth go dry, unable to say a thing. She whimpered again when he used his grip on her hair to turn her body around, keeping her back towards his chest, his fingers slipped along her jaw, as if to communicate that he could wrap them around her throat at any moment.

Aemond was sitting on a knife’s edge. And she dare not tilt him in any particular direction. Equally though, she dare not admit to herself that it was exciting in a most forbidden way.

“You are my wife,” he murmured quietly, sliding her small clothes down her thigh, flourishing with gooseflesh, “and who am I to deny her her duty?”

She suppressed a yelp when her hands lay flat on the table, her breasts pressed hard against the oak as she felt Aemond's rapidly growing harness at her backside where he was rucking up her skirts.

Though she tried to wriggle free of him, one hand at the nape of her neck with undeniable strength was all it took to remind her how much smaller she was than him. How difficult it would be to resist. Does she just go through with it? Let her Uncle, her brother's murderer, take her like a common whore whenever he wishes?

She could envisage no escape, and as ashamed as she was to admit it to herself, she could do nothing but submit. At least there would be some pleasure.

She jolted as his slender fingers parted her folds with a click of her essence coated his digits, dragging his touch from her opening to her overly-sensitive bud.

“See how wet you become for me still,” he murmured, pressing his chest against her back, broad body caging her in, “though I am the greatest sinner in the realm, your body still begs for it, sweet niece. What does that make you?”

“Kepus, please-”

“A traitor to your own kin?” He whispered, exhaling shakily when he nudged her legs apart an inch and slipped the fat head of his cock between her arousal-glistened folds, disappearing into her without effort.

Her lips parted, a quiet moan slipping past at being split onto his length. And though little time had passed since their first tryst, she still felt the sting and girth of him as if it were.

Aemond groaned deeply, at the feeling of her sucking him in so willingly, her walls greedily tightening around his length.

“Or loyal to your kinslaying husband?” He added huskily.

How was she to respond when the air was incessantly pushed right from her lungs at every snap of his hips? The table legs creaked against the floor and her breasts ached from being pressed down to the oak by the tight grip of his fingers around her nape.

She wanted to say that he was brutalising her, taking what he wanted with no care for her pleasure, but even that wouldn't be true. Aemond's rhythmic grunts came hot against her ear as he rutted into her, his hand kneading the flesh of her buttock in one hand, grasping tightly to allow himself deeper access to her.

She felt as if she was betraying herself, moaning the way she was. And Aemond certainly did not miss a thing.

“Stubborn little cunt - saying you don't want it but I can feel you begging for my seed -”

The mocking tone of his voice had her clench around him, humiliation clawing at her skin the more Aemond speared her onto his length in quick rhythmic movements. Her moisture coated his shaft, his pelvis painting the inside of her thighs with it in the heat of their passion.

Aemond looked down between them, his fingers leaving red marks on her buttock the more he gripped. Both hands drifted either side, pulling at her supple flesh to watch the way her cunt took him, his lips parted in appreciation of how he disappeared into her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling so boneless that she did not attempt to wiggle away when he was no longer holding her down. Instead her fingers curled over the table for stability in a desperate plea to ground herself from the hot, tight feeling building every time his cock hit her fleshy, wet end.

And just when she was getting used to the feeling, Aemond pulled her hips back to him, elevating her hips and slamming into her at an angle which brushed against that deep, sweet place inside her.

A tingly, warm sensation fluttered up her spine, “kepus-”

“-fucking say you want it-” he murmured between breaths, pulling her onto him quicker the close the became to completion.

She bit her lip, if anything, using the last bit of her power to not give him the satisfaction of thinking she did in fact want it. So she remained silent, which only made his thrusts more aggressive and assertive.

“-I’ll give you my seed, watch you grow fat with child - and just when you think it's over, I'll fuck another one into you-”

Her nails dug into the oak, scraping painfully, lips parted in a soundless scream as she felt that wave of warmth and bliss crest, unable to control the way she fluttered around him.

Aemond strained, words caught tightly in his throat as he spilled inside of her, pulling her hips flush to him as if to mold himself to her irreparably. She shamefully felt herself tremble, her release still sending dull shockwaves through her blood as Aemond remained seated firmly within her.

She thought of her family. And how they would come to hate her for what she had become, allowing the man who had killed her brother to take her like this. She surely thought they would no longer see her the same with Aemond's child in her belly and tied to him by marriage.

Tears threatened at her eyes, two feelings at war with one another, shame and pleasure.

She whimpered when Aemond pulled his softening cock from her, a rush of warm spend spilling down her thigh in a way that only exacerbated her humiliation.

“You will write to your mother and tell her of your loyalties.”

Aemond spoke so coldly in between soft pants, it was as if he was hardly the man she had known a few moments ago. It has always been like this. But in a way, it is what made him exciting. Unpredictability was as much exhilarating as it was terrifying.

A notion she held to as she glanced at him, his good eye hooded and blown wide and black with lust and the sapphire glinting in the orange glow of the room as if bloodthirsty.

The game had to be played. And if this was the way Aemond wanted to do it, then so be it.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

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The Woes of Betrothals (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Part 2 about the wedding is out now! Read it here

Synopsis: Recently betrothed, Prince Aemond is unsure on the virtues befitting that of a good husband. Ser Criston offers some surprisingly useful insight.

Warnings: nothing explicit, just Aemond being emotionally constipated

Word Count: 3k words. this was supposed to be a short one shot 😭

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: In a fluff writing mood recently, so expect to see more fluffs coming your way (not just for aemond :)) 💗

lovely dividers once again credited to @firefly-graphics !

Heavy grunts and the clashing sound of steel on steel resonated through the training yard of the Red Keep. Surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, Prince Aemond, his forehead beaded with sweat, moved deftly to dodge a blow struck by Ser Criston Cole’s morningstar.

It was nearly noon, and the Prince and Kingsguard had been training since the break of dawn. Ser Criston had a look of exhaustion on his face, the midday sun clearly taking a toll on him, but Prince Aemond continued sparring with a fierce determination, parrying Criston’s offensives with utmost precision or viciously swinging his sword to land a blow on the knight.

Whilst the prince was fond of training for long hours, Ser Criston was familiar enough with Prince Aemond’s various moods to know that today, while he was there in person, he was not in spirit. Seeing a chance, Criston quickly moved to swing a blow at Prince Aemond, and succeeded in catching him off guard, knocking the sword from the Prince’s hand for the first time this morning.

Criston expected the prince to get angry that he had been bested, but Aemond merely raised a brow and rolled his eye, “I yield. Let us cease training for this morning.” Applause broke out through the training yard, and Criston had to hide a grin. It had been a while since he managed to beat Aemond in training.

As the crowd dispersed, Criston noticed Aemond polishing his sword at a corner, a brooding look on his face. Feeling particularly emboldened this morning at his victory, Criston walked towards the prince, setting down his morningstar as he questioned, “What troubles you, my prince?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are insinuating, Cole,” came Aemond’s curt response, but Criston was undeterred. “You may pretend all is well, but you have been on edge for a few days now, aye?” Criston commented, observing how the prince’s jaw was clenched. Oddly enough, he noticed doubt shining in the prince’s lone violet eye., catching Criston off guard “You may have been sparring with me this morning, but your heart is elsewhere. Tell me what troubles you, my prince.”

Criston expected the prince to scowl and tell him it was none of his business, but instead, Aemond let out a pensive sigh, before tentatively asking, “Ser Criston, how do you reckon one should please their betrothed?”

Criston’s ears immediately stood up in attention. Gods be good, the One-Eyed Prince was asking him for advice? And about his betrothed no less. As a Kingsguard, Criston had to suppress a laugh at the irony. “Are you referring to the Lady Y/N Y/L/N, my prince?”

“Well, it could hardly be anyone else, could it?” Aemond retorted, though his heart was not in it. Criston watched, amused, as Aemond hummed contemplatively, “As you know, she and I were betrothed less than a moon’s turn ago. I had not crossed paths with her often before that, but…” Aemond swallowed, thinking of how brilliantly she smiled at him every time he had the fortune of being graced with her presence. He had always knew that his marriage would be one of duty and political benefit to his house, but over the course of getting to know the lady over the past few weeks, he found her company pleasant, and her gentle charm and surprisingly humorous wit a welcome change in the usual dreadfully boring courtiers at the Red Keep. And with every passing moment he spent in her presence, he felt a small sliver of affection for her begin to blossom in his heart. “As I got to know her more, I soon began to wish to be the sole cause of her brilliant smiles, her beautiful laughter, and selfishly, the sole receiver of her love and affection.”

Aemond had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. He was sounding like a lovesick fool, in front of Cole, of all people. Gods, he was an idiot, an utter idiot. Swords he could swing and books he could read, but when it came to affection, he found himself no better than an ignorant babe. “It sounds as though you harbour a great affection for the lady Y/L/N,” Criston smiled. “Yes,” Aemond said softly, his voice tinged a little with despair. “But I am unsure on how to best express my affections. She is akin to an ethereal maiden, and I’m naught but a crippled prince, who is stumped in my duties as a husband. I cannot seem to muster up the courage to proclaim my love for her, or shower her with praises and compliments.”

‘Gods, what if she is unhappy with my performance of my duties as her husband because I am too much of a coward to even talk to her about my feelings?’ Aemond thought in alarm, mind racing. He did not want to be the reason why those lovely smiles of hers cease to exist. He wanted to make her feel like the most blissful woman in the realm. But he was completely clueless as to how. Words seemed completely inadequate to express the depth of his affection for her, and he had never been the best with his words anyway.

Just then, Aemond felt a hand on his shoulder, grounding him to reality once more “Breathe, my prince,” Criston’s steady voice calmed Aemond down, making his racing thoughts come to a screeching halt. “I do believe you are overthinking things, my prince. Contrary to popular belief, I think that affection need not be expressed in elaborate gestures or through fervent declarations of love all the time.”

Aemond’s eyebrows shot up, “Then how will she know how much I appreciate her? I can barely converse with her without looking like a stuttering fool.” Criston smiled, a sort of fatherly affection filling his eyes as he glanced down at the prince. “Though I am lacking in experience in matters of the heart, I believe that affection isn’t always just about grand gestures. Words are not the only outlet to express your admiration of her, my prince. You can start with the little actions: spending time with her, bringing her flowers, talking more with her about her interests, that sort of thing.” “And you think that that would be sufficient?”Aemond was a little sceptical.

“Of course, that would not suffice in the long run. You are to be married, my prince, you will spend countless years with each other, you will have to do more than that.” Aemond’s face turned crestfallen, causing Criston to pat his shoulder, “However, given your trouble in expressing your feelings, these small gestures are a start. Build up from there, and you’ll find it easier to demonstrate your love for her over time.” Aemond’s gaze was still pensive, but his eye was sparkling a little with hope. “But what if I’m at a loss of words every time I’m with her? Won’t she find my company dreadfully dull then?” Criston couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, though Aemond looked faintly offended at that. “Sometimes, your company is good enough, your Grace. Not all your time spent together need be filled with meaningful conversations. Basking in each other’s presence is bliss enough.”

Satisfied with Criston’s response, Aemond stood up with a decisive look. “I am grateful for your advice, Cole. I shall depart to implement your advice at once.” Before leaving, however, Aemond tilted his head and smirked slightly, “You are rather good at giving romantic advice for a knight, Ser Criston. Your wisdom is wasted on being a Kingsguard.”

Criston barked a laugh, thinking of that someone from so long ago. “Mayhaps, your grace. But I think I am rather content imparting my knowledge to you for now.” Aemond said nothing at that, only raising a hand in farewell as he strode off. Criston watched him depart, a slight grin on his face. ‘The Queen would be delighted to hear of this,’ he thought to himself with a degree of satisfaction.

You were sitting in Princess Helaena’s apartments, forehead furrowed in concentration as you delicately weaved a needle through the handkerchief you were embroidering for your betrothed. The midday sun shone through the long windows, casting a light golden glow throughout Helaena’s chambers.

“Here, what do you think of this?” Helaena leaned over to you, eyes shining with anticipation as you held up your work so far. “It’s beautiful,” Helaena complimented, “Is that a raven?” You nodded, tilting your head to inspect your work. “Do you think it is too unusual to embroider on a handkerchief?” Helaena laughed, “You should not be asking me. Given the fact that-” she held up her own embroidery, and you laughed when you caught sight of a large beetle on her handkerchief.

“I have to ask, however, why a raven?” Helaena inquired. You bit your lip softly, remembering your last interaction with your betrothed, Aemond. Knowing your love for birds, Aemond had taken you to Grand Maester Orwyle’s rookery, to see the various birds he had fostered there. You had both taken a liking to the ravens, with their intelligent eyes and strangely silent demeanour, compared to the other noisier birds in the rookery. You thought to yourself that they reminded you much of Aemond, though you did not say it out loud, watching with fond eyes as Aemond fed a raven and stroked its feathers, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed.

“Your brother seems to like them,” you answered, smiling. Helaena beamed, “I’m sure he would be pleased with your gift.” “I do hope so,” your voice trailed off hesitantly, causing Helaena to take your free hand and squeeze it lightly. You had been much enamoured with your betrothed ever since your arrival to King’s Landing several moon turns ago, and you have come to know and appreciate him for his silent, thoughtful aura. However, his comportment did spell some uncertainty in you. While you knew this was a political match, your heart couldn’t help but yearn that your future husband would love you as much as you did him.

But it was nigh impossible to tell what the One-Eyed Prince was thinking whenever we spent time together. He seemed perfectly cordial to you…but you wished you could get a further glimpse into what he felt for you. Did he feel at least a fraction of the adoration you felt for him? Or were you doomed to spend a lifetime in a courteous, yet dispassionate and loveless marriage with a man you long admired?

Your thoughts were cut off by a sudden knock on the door. Startled, you nearly dropped your embroidery, but Helaena caught it deftly just in time. Sheepishly murmuring your thanks, you watched as a serving girl came into the room and curtsied in front of the both of you. “Your Grace, my lady, Prince Aemond is requesting to see you.”

Aemond? Your heart began pounding furiously, delight and anticipation filling you. Was he here to see you? You tried tamping down your excitement, thinking firmly to yourself that he could be equally as likely to be here for Helaena. “Did he say which of the two of us he wanted to see?” “He wished to see Lady Y/N, your Grace.”

Your heart was beating so fast it felt dangerously close to exploding. Your mind was spinning in a dizzying rush of emotions. Helaena dismissed the serving girl, and smiled at you, “Well, I should not keep my brother waiting any longer for his betrothed. Go.”

“Thank you, your Grace. Will I see you at dinner with the Queen tonight?” “Of course. You must tell me everything that happens,” Helaena’s eyes twinkled merrily. “That is a given,” you stood up and curtsied, before exiting the room, clutching the handkerchief you just sewed like it was the last thing grounding you to reality. Your steps were light and airy, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw Aemond standing by a window, his back to you, looking as majestic as ever in his training gear and his long silver hair flowing down his back. Your betrothed.

“My Prince,” a sweet voice broke through Aemond’s thoughts. He turned around, his eye widening as he beheld his fair lady. She was dressed beautifully as always, in a light pink gown with a square neckline and elbow length sleeves. Pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes, serving only to accentuate her lovely complexion. He strode to her as she curtsied, his hand reaching out to her shoulder.

“At ease,” Aemond’s voice was like velvet. “You are my betrothed, there is no need for such formalities.” You nodded shyly, meeting Aemond’s eye, surprised that today, there was actually a flicker of emotion behind it. Noticing how he shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, your eyes widened slightly as you realised that Aemond Targaryen, the usually composed and unflinching prince, was nervous. And it was because of you.

Aemond cleared his throat, finally revealing what he had been hiding behind his back. Just when you thought the day’s events could not get any stranger than seeing Aemond being anxious, you were caught even more off guard when you spotted an assortment of pink, blue and orange blooms in his hand.

“These are for you, my lady,” he added, eye darting over her face to drink in all her beautiful features and most importantly, her reaction to his attempt at expressing his adoration for her. He was immensely relieved to find nothing but genuine delight on his betrothed’s face.

“Oh, they’re wonderful,” you exclaimed happily, a flush going to your cheeks. “You are too kind, my prince. Thank you, I love them.” Aemond watched tenderly as she took the flowers and held them to her nose. She was simply angelic.

You inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers, feeling your heart flutter at his sudden, but welcome gesture of affection. Perhaps this was a sign he returned your feelings?

Aemond took a deep breath, trying to recall all the advice Criston had told him in the training yard just now. He had stopped by the garden to pick out the prettiest wildflowers he could find, but he found that none could compare to the sheer radiance of his betrothed when she smiled. ‘Focus’, Aemond told himself sternly, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘This was about making her see how much I care for her, not waxing on and on internally about how utterly struck I am by her beauty. I cannot mess this up.’

‘I must make her see how she has come to become the sun in my life.’

But Aemond was cut off by your sudden ‘Oh!’ Aemond nearly jumped out of his skin, afraid that there was something wrong with the flowers. But he was puzzled when you extended a handkerchief to him, smiling brightly. “I embroidered this for you. Take this as a token of gratitude for the flowers.” Aemond turned over the handkerchief delicately, tracing over the raven and various flowers sewed at the corner of the handkerchief, along with his initials, ‘A.T’ He felt his breath catch in his throat, “This…this is…”

You watched him nervously as he stammered before falling into silence. Did he not like it? Perhaps he thought the raven was too much? You gripped the flowers in your hand a little tighter, saying a prayer to the Seven in your mind.

Your worries were immediately allayed when Aemond pressed a shaky kiss onto your forehead. Startled, yet utterly enchanted, you stared up at him, who looked almost as shocked as you were at the kiss. “I…I take it you like your gift then?” you asked softly.

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I think ‘like’ is an understatement, my lady. It is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given to me. I shall cherish it forever. As I will with you.”

Aemond nearly screamed when he realised he blurted out the last part. ‘Why did I say that, why did I say that, why did I say that!’ his mind flooded with panic. However, suddenly emboldened from the adrenaline of the moment, he finally found the courage to express what he had been feeling for his fair lady. “My lady, I would like to confess something, and I think there couldn’t be a more appropriate time than this. I am hopelessly besotted with you.” He watched her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and he hurried to add, “Tis alright if you do not return those feelings! I understand, believe me. I do not wish to force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with. But it’s just that I loved you for so long, and I had no idea how to tell you, and I fear if I let this moment slip I will never muster up the bravery to tell you again and gods I-” the energy suddenly drained out of him as he found himself once again, at a loss of words. “I just…adore you beyond belief. Beyond what I can fathom. Please ignore my ramblings if you are uncomfortable with them, just take them as the words of a lovesick fool.” He averted her eyes, embarrassment and sadness filling him. How could he hope for someone as good and wonderful as her to love such a beast as him? The Gods should strike him down for his pride.

A warm hand reached for Aemond’s, interlacing her fingers with his. Aemond looked up in disbelief at your next words, “You have no idea how thankful I am to hear those words…because I feel the same.” You smiled shyly at him, “I was hoping you had the same sentiments as I did, and now that you professed your feelings, I could not be happier.”

Aemond reached out to grip her hand with both of his, cradling her soft hand in his hands, staring deep into her eyes, sparkling with so much devotion and adoration. They stood in silence for a while, before Aemond pulled her hand gently to his lips and planted a reverent kiss to her knuckles.

“Would you…perhaps care to take a stroll with me, my lady? I believe we have a lot to discuss.”

“I would love nothing more, your Grace.”

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thebadboyfanclub · 8 days

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Like A True Flower (Aemond x Reader)

So this was a bit hard to write but I hope you guys like it. There’s a slight mention of Aegon but I think I’ll need to write a part two to get into it cause there was just too many things to write. Let me know if you will be interested in that

As the years passed and the Targaryen name went from a burning dragon fire to merely a small candle that was handed to Daenerys Targaryen, the whispers of the bastard curse never went silent.

“If my children do not sit on the throne then none of our lines shall prosper”

(Y/n) Targaryens legacy lived on from people tarnishing her, blaming her and others who admired her wits and hunger for recognition. The bastard of Daemon Targaryen that was dropped off in Kings Landing, at the time Daemon had begged his brother King Viserys to legitimize her, raise her as their own, only the Seven could have known that (y/n) would turn out to be the one to put the sword on Aemonds hand and send him off to battle that got them both killed.

(Y/n) was the lady wife of Aemond per Queen Alicents request? At first, Alicent scoffed at the babe who seemed to sense the hatred that grew around her crib, a bastard amongst royalty, it was such a scandal at the time that Viserys had even considered giving her away. The babe growing tireless and her lungs as strong as steel made her discomfort evident to everyone with well working set of ears.

“Your grace”

“Have you fed her?”

“Fed her changed her, bathe her, nothing seems to work”

Alicent had walked into her nursery for the first time since she arrived, something in her compelled her to come to the child’s aid, listening to her wailing took her back to the first year of Aegons life.

“Give her to me”

The wet nurse hesitated only for a split second before she complied with the queen's orders, gently passing that young babe to Alicent who cooed at the poor thing, she had almost turned purple from crying, “she misses her mother” Alicent considered silently, slowly she started rocking her whilst she walked towards the window, she was pregnant with her third child at the time, her belly growing big and someone’s else daughter in her arms.

“She looks beautiful I’ll give you that much little girl”

She joked to the babe as the light of the sun graced her cheeks, it always seemed to work for Aegon and as the seconds passed (y/n) 's cries lessened, and a satisfied smile grew on Alicent lips as the little lady finally found peace in her arms, slowly turning her frown to one of the most adorable yawns that tugged at Alicante heartstrings.

“All you wanted was some sunlight, like a true flower”

Alicent was in awe of the child ever since, such a true beauty, and as she grew her delightful personality took everyone by storm, to be around her was to fall for her, even as just a child little boys would bring her flowers that they plucked from some unfortunate garden, including Aegon and later Aemond.

The two brothers were close to the princess, they would compete for her attention any way they could, of course, Aegon had the advantage of having a dragon and Aemond had to stay on the ground as he watched them circle one another, he would gawk at them with envy, praying that one day Aegon will have to watch him ride his very own dragon with (y/n).

Aegon on the other side would despise (y/n) and Aemonds reading time, the young girl was gifted at the literate arts, it was almost like she would swallow any book and recite on the spot anything that she was asked about any book she had gotten her hands on, Aemond was not as intellect yet he caught fast than Aegon and was more inclined to ask intriguing questions.

You can imagine his outburst of rage when the queen announced that she was to marry his youngest brother.

“She had inherited the lustful urges of her ferocious father, at the very least we must say she was much more discreet about it”

The historians would report back when asked about it, Aegon had the lust and fire of the dragon, while Aemond was sweet, attentive to her needs and his touch was oh so soft. Besides the fact that (y/n) wanted to have a bite of sweet and spicy, she also relished the jealousy between them, fighting for a spot in her bed every night was an aphrodisiac like no other.

Even though she was married under the seven to Aemond, she would often sneak from her chambers at the hour of the wolf and warm Aegon bed or other times when the chambermaids would scurry away after listening to the loud moans of (y/n) and Aemond in any type of room that the castle had to offer.

“A little after the war of dragons began her lady in waiting- Chiara Baratheon- had reported seeing the princess sitting on the iron throne while Aegon pleased her”

Mushroom would add briefly and with a hint of disapproval. No matter what she had the blind trust of the king and the prince and the undeniable love of Queen Alicent, the gods seemed to be in her favor whilst everyone wondered how.

(Y/n) was blessed by the dark world that her entire bloodline owed everything, at nightfall when the castle grew tired (y/n) would burn her candles and open her book, coming in contact with her ancestors as she sacrificed animals or even offered her own drops of blood and whenever she could she would spill Aemonds or Aegons, if you asked her she would say that she did it out of love, to keep them safe and in power, if they climbed the throne it was only natural that she would follow.

“Are you sure about your choice in your gown?”

“Never been more certain of something in my life, don’t you find it flattering?”

“You would be the most comely lady in all of Westeros even with a sack”

“Then it is settled, I am sure Mother will love it as well”

(Y/n) responded light-heartedly as she snaked her arm around Aemonds, she smiled brightly up at him like she always did making his stomach turn in backflips….like she always did.

Admins was taken by his lady wife, he was forever a slave to her and he was the one who had thrown away the key of his cell, his eye would sparkle with admiration any time he would simply gaze at her, her touch brought him goosebumps and her love, oh her love, like a fire that slowly burned him from the inside, a sweet death that was worth a thousand cuts.

“Our deepest apologies, I lost track of time worrying about my bloody hair”

(Y/n) could not afford to seem raddled or scared in front of her father's hawk eye, she paraded in with Aemond linked on her arm and a bright smile of a carefree attitude.

“Mother”

She acknowledged Alicent as her mother years before she was wed to Aemond, bending down to give a kiss on the cheek to the queen that made Alicent smile brightly and turn slightly towards her.

“How are you my flower?”

“Better, the morning sickness seems to be wearing off”

“Morning sickness? Is the princess with child?”

“Indeed… forgive me you haven’t been at court for so long, should I address you as princess, sister, or good mother?”

“Princess will do”

Rhaenyra confirmed through her teeth as her hand went over Daemon which had turned into a fist. Rhaenyra was no fool yet she somewhat understood the reasoning behind the young girl’s actions, left behind and forgotten by her father, motherless by death and fatherless by choice, she had begged Daemon to demand to take her with them but Daemon felt that the bond was unable to be fixed in any way.

(Y/n) only nodded and Aemond pulled out the chair next to Queen Alicent as she always wished to sit right next to her, even Otto had learned not to question it, as the dinner went on and the exhausting speech of King Viserys who just so happened to remember that he has a family that has steadfastly trickled into the chaos that he never even attempted to fix (y/n) also had to endure the forcefully emotional toast of Rhaenyra, still the shock that came from Alicent calling her “a fine queen” was the part that compelled her to rise and take her goblet.

“I would also like to raise a toast to our king who was kind enough to take me in when I had no one and merely but a babe I will always be grateful for that and to my mother, Queen Alicent, who came to my aid and offered me the love and the kind touch of a parent that I was denied by destiny, my love and devotion for her goes beyond words, may they live on and be able to see the fruits of my marriage.”

Daemon was ready to combust from anger. “How fucking dare she?” He thought “I took her from the arms of her dead mother, I begged Viserys to give her a home and now this is how she chooses to repay me?”

As the music played and the wine flowed everyone’s shoulders seemed to relax and laughter would intertwine with the mixture of talks amongst the people that dined.

“Would you do me the honor?”

(Y/n) heard from the back of her, turning only to be met with Prince Jacaerys who was sticking his arm out of her, there was a time when (y/n) and Jacaerys had some type of connection, Jacaerys was kind to her and had even offered to teach her the art of the sword, (y/n) puffed out a breath after she took his hand, no matter how she felt about it she was aware that Alicent wanted this to pass as swiftly as possible with no type of conflict.

“You look breathtaking if that isn’t obvious”

“That is very kind of you to say, my prince”

“I remember there was a time when we did not use such formalities”

“That was a time when my intended had both eyes”

she threw back with a smile still on her lips, as they dance (y/n) might have appeared to be happy although it could not be further from the truth, as they danced around together with a turn that Jacaerys had guided she was able to see both Aegon and Aemond waiting for their moment to attack Jacaerys, the prince was too carefree as he walked in the edge of their swords and it came the time that (y/n) dipped with his one arm around her waist and his free one went up to caress her locks, that was when a sudden booming sound of Aemonds fist on the table was heard, (y/n) immediately stood up and watched Aemond raise his goblet.

“To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey each of them handsome, wise… strong”

“Aemond”

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again”

“Why? T’was only a compliment, do you not think yourself strong boy?”

Jacaerys was once again the one to bring violence into the matter, what seemed to be not taken into consideration was that Aemond was now a man-grown, and quite easily with one hand, he pushed Jacaerys onto the floor. (Y/n) walked to Aemond and stood between them, her hands finding his forearms, before she could phrase anything the queen had also walked up to the prince of chaos.

“Why would you say such a thing in front of all these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs”

That was enough to send Jacaerys off again and try to free himself from the guards. The prince only got to make a few steps before Daemon stood between, it seemed like Jacaerys respected the rogue prince which left (y/n) dumbfounded, “who could respect such a buffoon?” She questioned in her mind

As Daemon turned to look at Aemond (y/n) took it upon herself and stood in front of her husband, the same smirk that Daemon had was the one that (y/n) was presented as well, her mismatched eyes reminded him so much of his mothers, “it was a shame that they had to be wasted on her” he thought.

At least he had to appreciate her ever-growing courage, though he didn’t know if he had to congratulate her or fear her, the girl put herself ahead of the man that she was wed just to prove she was just as courageous as the man she grew to hate.

“Go to your chambers, all of you”

Rhaenyra commanded but it appeared that (y/n) and Daemon had gone on a standoff, eyeballing one another like animals waiting for a slight move so the other could attack, both of them spewed fire from the eyes.

Aemond admired her, he would not dare to touch her and quite frankly he did not want to, he thoroughly enjoyed the sight of his love standing her ground against such a vile man.

“Little flower, please”

Alicent pleaded as her shaky hands found (y/n) 's upper arm and gave it a slight squeeze, (y/n) inhaled sharply although she only took a step back when Daemon diverted his focus to his lady wife, (y/n) offered a smirk to Alicent and after she gave a kiss on her cheek to calm her down, she knew that Alicent was never fond of such tension.

“Get some rest Mother, a long morrow awaits us”

The only way towards their chambers was to pass by Daemon, so step by step (y/n) and Aemond stood by his side, (y/n) halted and faced Daemon right in the eye.

“Let us solve this another day, Father”

It would have been better if she had called him the vilest of names, that name was enough for Daemon to reach for his sword and Rhaenyra to beg him to stop by pushing him back.

(Y/n)s laughter was heard as she walked away with her husband following close, the second the doors of the dining hall closed Aemond had snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her for a deep kiss to which (y/n) responded with the same passion.

“I did not know such things excited you, my love”

“How could it not? Any man would implore for an ounce of your attention after such performance”

“You always demand my attention Aemond”

“Can you blame me?”

He cheekily responded. (Y/n) only smiled and kissed him again pulling him in, she did not have much time, though a small stop to collect her prize of a very excited husband would not hurt.

“Tonight I need you in my chamber”

“Where will you do it tonight my love?”

“The simplest of cuts… right here”

She said as she let her index finger grace over the middle of his chest, she had to offer something right before the king died to make sure the will stayed spinning towards her.

“Whatever you want, my love, as long as I get my treat after”

“I could never deny myself the pleasure of you”

“Let us go before Aegon catches up to us and steals you away from me

Requests are open!

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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 months

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Hi! Could I get sleepy + Aemond? I hope I filled my request right

Push and Pull (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You just love riling him up. Especially on his name day.

Warnings: Smut. Oral sex (M receiving) Degradation.

A/N: A little treat to get you by this week.

Aemond is not a morning person. You have come to realize it after a few months of marriage. Usually, he is up early, ready to fulfill his duties, but you can tell it’s hard for him to be alert when he wakes.

It’s endearing. Being married to someone so intimidating can be hard. Aemond seems not to need anyone or anything. Fireproof. But seeing him so vulnerable in sleep does funny things for you.

There is a strange feeling in your chest, as you watch him sleep. Something tight and possessive, yet warm. Perhaps not yet love, since you have been married only a few moons. But close to it.

It’s a rare thing, that you get to have him for yourself a whole morning. However, it is his name day, and he has been barred from his usual duties under threat of a feast in his name.

You had promised last night to wake him with a surprise, though. So, feeling very naughty, you shift from your position on his side, and start kissing a path down his neck.

“Hm.” You don’t make it to his collarbones before he stirs, blinking up at you with a bleary eye. You giggle, and keep kissing, this time down his chest.

He throws an arm over his face, groaning. It’s too early for his liking.

“What are you up to?”

“Something I read about.” You mutter, against his stomach. You nuzzle the skin there. Aemond has a ticklish spot just below his ribs, and you enjoy kissing it just to see him squirm.

He does so, fighting laughter. You congratulate yourself for knowing him so well, scratching your nails a little over the spot. He is the kind of man who takes himself way too seriously. It would break his cold, aloof persona if he were to giggle over tickles.

“Is it improper?” Aemond asks, tone mildly amused. One of his hands goes to brush your hair back. His motions are slow. He is not fully awake yet. Just risen Aemond is not comparable in any shape or form to fully awake Aemond. This version of your husband is much softer. For once, his mind is not racing.

“You know me.” You grin at him. “Everything I want to try with you is improper.”

Aemond smirks. You kiss lower, right over his navel. He watches you with a hooded eye.

“Don’t tell me this is a whore’s trick.” Aemond complains, sitting up a little. Despite his harsh words, and the way he is looking down at you, there is a curious glint on his face.

“Do not be disrespectful.” You suck a hickey over his hip, admiring your handiwork. His skin is so pale, it works as a perfect canvas. Often, you entertain yourself by trying to pull colors from him, be it either in the form of blushes from rage, shyness, or even arousal. It’s a bit cruel, perhaps, but he is just too easy to rile up.

Besides, it's for the best. You are supposed to be trying for a child. Riling up Aemond ensures he later spends that pent-up energy in the bedroom. So really, it's for the good of the realm.

“I am not being disrespectful. You are my wife. I do not want you to feel the need to debase yourself like that.”

Debase. As if. He had clearly been reading too much of the Seven Pointed Star and not enough literature. After all, nothing that could be done in bed was immoral if it helped perpetuate love.

Not willing to get into an argument about the merits of the clergy's opinion on what couples did in bed, you decide for the simpler explanation, hoping to get him to drop it through flattery.

“It’s your name day.” You lick a strip over his stomach before blowing cool air on it. He squirms, the sheet falling further down his hips.

“And you thought the best gift was lowering yourself to the same level as whores?” If you were not used to him already, you would be offended. Instead, by his breathy tone and the fact that he is doing nothing to stop you, you gather he is just as curious as you are about it.

You bite sharply on his hipbone, making him jolt.

“You either shut up or I make you.”

“I am just saying…” Aemond tries pacifying you, gently rubbing his thumb over the bridge of your nose. His tone is much softer now, no longer laced with annoyance.

“By the Seven, do you ever shut up?” You ask, exasperated. “It’s too early for your nagging.”

“You are my wife! I do not…”

Whatever he does or doesn’t is irrelevant because he goes deadly quiet when you give a kitten lick to his tip.

It’s an interesting experience, for sure. So far, your coupling has been limited to intercourse, with some aid from his hands or yours to prepare each other. It’s always rushed, a means to an end. Despite you claiming this was a name day present for him, it’s something you have been wanting to do for a while. You were curious about it.

Never before had you seen his manhood from this close. You stare, working up the courage to do more than just lick at him.

Aemond grips your chin, tilting your head up. He gives you a challenging look. He is not the kind of man to give reassuring words or coddle you. No. He is not going to help you out of a mess you've gotten yourself into. But Aemond knows exactly what buttons he needs to press, how to push and when to do so. You like that about him, you realize.

Being with him is exciting. Always a challenge. Aemond keeps your mind busy with smart, engaging conversation. He keeps your heart busy too, always managing to show he cares even if he won't tell you. It's only fair that he does the same to your body. Push your limits. Encourage you out of your comfort zone.

That thought it’s all the encouragement you need. You lean forward and take him inside your mouth, pulling a face at the feeling. Like your jaw is struggling to accommodate for the new position you are in. Aemond gasps. You look up at him, noticing he has closed his eye.

His hands fist the sheets. Curiously, you try to take more inside your mouth, wondering how much of him you can actually fit. You barely manage to make it halfway before your eyes start to tear up, and you are fighting not to gag.

Aemond brushes his hand on top of your hair, petting you clumsily.

“It’s so warm.” His voice comes out thicker than usual. By it, you gather that while he might know what the act entails, he has never felt it before.

You look up at him, giving him a teasing glance. He groans, before falling quiet. His eye is closed again, and the idea that the sight of your lips wrapped around him was too much for him to bear, warms your blood.

Slowly, you start to get into a rhythm. You explore him first, noting how his hips buck when your tongue brushes his underside, or when you suck at the tip. How there isn’t as much of a reaction as you would want when you suck and kiss the middle of his shaft. Then, when you realize what it’s that Aemond likes, you just go for it.

Bobbing your head up and down allows you to control the depth he is at, stroking the rest with your hands. But it’s also much more taxing on your neck and jaw. You encourage him to buck his hips with a soft touch to his thigh.

“Are you sure?”

You give him a small nod. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, thrusting into your mouth. His hand cradles your jaw, thumb rubbing against the bulge on your cheek.

“Good wives don’t offer this sort of thing.” He says, almost conversationally. Clearly, he had been using the time you had spent exploring to get used to the new feeling and get his control back. You don’t blame him for it. Were it you, you would have done the same. “But you are not a good wife, are you? You are a good little whore”

Despite yourself, you feel your cheeks starting to heat up. You know it’s all in good fun, of course, but the reason these things arouse you so much is the same reason why you like him taking charge. It makes you feel small in all the good ways.

You suck a little harder, feeling more embarrassed at the loud noises your motions cause.

Aemond grins.

“Dirty girl.” He says, as his thumb wipes a bit of the spit that has gathered on the corner of your mouth. “If I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner.”

You grin back, in triumph. So he had been thinking about it. You go back to sucking him, tenderly. Or as tenderly as one can do such an act.

“Too proud of being a little whore?” Aemond groans a little at the end of the phrase, when you take your chance to rub your tongue against his underside. “That's alright. As long as you are my whore. No one's else.” He grips at your hair, forcing you to make eye contact again. “Mine.”

You make a little mocking noise, rolling your eyes as best as you can. That's how marriage works, you want to say. Aemond, though, does not seem to think you are only teasing.

Roughly, he takes you off him and pushes you to lay on your back. He straddles your chest, careful of not putting too much weight on your chest. His hand remains fisted in your hair.

Aemond looms over you, giving you a glare.

“You are mine.” He says, as he starts to fuck into your mouth. This time, he is not holding back. Your hands curl around his hips and behind, trying to find something to hold on to. The muscles flex under your hands.

This position is slightly easier on your neck, but you lose all the control you thought you had. It's a bit frightening. But Aemond never tries pushing past what you can take, keeping his thrusts steady and superficial.

Embarrassingly, you find the act even more arousing than you did before. From here, you get to watch all the micro changes in Aemond's face. How his brows pinch together, how his cheeks flush. How his mouth goes slack the closest he is to his peak.

It's intoxicating. Normally, Aemond is a silent lover. He rarely makes a sound, except to talk to you. Now, though, he is giving small sighs and the occasional grunt. You wonder if he even is aware of the sounds he is making.

His hands push yours away. Aemond pins your hands against the mattress, reclining further into you. Softly, you curl your fingers around his. Your eyes meet his.

His pupil is nearly completely blown, making it look darker than it is. His face, his motions, all point to a specific emotion. Aemond is desperate. Desperate for you. And never in your life have you felt more powerful.

Struggling, he pulls back from you.

“I want… I…” His thumb taps at your lower lip, almost without realizing it. His expression is wrecked. You understand immediately.

“Do it.” You open your mouth, feeling very silly. His groan of appreciation it's all the encouragement you need, though.

“Close your eyes.” His voice comes out breathy, a very far cry from your usually controlled husband. You obey, despite wanting to watch.

You hear him jerk off, small punched out little moans making their way through his lips. How much you wish to see, hear. You can almost picture it, how his hands and hips give little twitches, how his mouth falls open and his eye closes.

You hear it before you feel it. His hand squeezes around yours, a grip so tight you worry he might hurt you. Aemond gives a soft grunt and something warm and sticky hits your face and tongue.

It’s salty and not exactly the nicest thing you have ever had, but you swallow regardless. Almost a reflex. You open your eyes to see Aemond scrambling off you and hurrying towards the chest where you keep your linens.

Wiping your face with your hand, you stare at him, unperturbed. Were this the first time you two were together, you would feel bad about it. Most people dislike being left alone after intimacy, but you know his abrupt departure will be justified.

See, the thing about Aemond is that he seems to have an allergy to affection. And vulnerability. Or so he likes making everyone think. He cares, in his own way. It’s just not especially romantic.

You are proven right when he comes back with a handkerchief and starts wiping at your face and hand.

“There. We didn’t stain anything else?” He eyes you distrustfully. You scowl. While you might not be as pristine and immaculate as he always is, you are a clean person. But he looks at you as if he expects you to rub his seed on the sheets.

“No?”

“Are you certain?” Aemond asks, with a devilish grin. He starts pushing your nightgown off your shoulders. Now he is certainly awake. “I better check. After all, you have a penchant for getting dirty.”

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barbieaemond · 4 months

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And all the roses turn to black

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: angst, implied smut, fingering

Author’s note: I have no idea what this is. It just came to me like this lol

Word count: 686

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The coin twists and turns, and you with it, waiting to see if you will go to bed with regret or remorse. They have been merging for some time; it is hard to draw the boundaries between one or the other, between what is right and what is wrong.

The anarchy of your heart dictates different laws. All it takes is a fresh bouquet of roses on your bedside table to get you over the boundaries. White roses, precisely, not blue, not to be too obvious.

"I hate to break it to you, but any kind of rose is…quite plain."

“Precisely how my intentions shall be: plain.”

“They’re orders, not intentions. I shouldn’t owe you anything more than my loyalty.”

“That is loyalty.”

“The Gods may beg to differ.”

“I don’t think I care.“ he had swallowed your useless grievances with a kiss that dug into you like a claw, and you had let him cut you openly, you let him carve his law like an awl in stone, welcoming each groove, blowing your obedience into his mouth, swearing on his name again and again as you came undone beneath him.

With each rose found in your rooms, a new oath muffled on sweaty sheets and on his ruthless mouth. Ruthless in words and bites, in kisses, in the way his tongue draws arabesques on the swollen skin between your legs, in how he slips inside your drenched flesh as if slipping a ring on his finger. Just like the one he wears, proudly displaying the seal of his noble house.

The same one you had seen twirling between his fingers that morning when you were walking in the gardens with your husband. He had seen you and fucked you from that distance. You felt it.

Inside, you had bent over on the grass, in front of your husband, with the sun beating hard on your naked limbs as the Prince grabbed your hips and thrust harder, spilling another sacred oath from your throat.

“I thought of making love to you this morning.”

“Where? In the garden? With your husband watching?”

“Yes.

“And then what?”

“And then it was all I could think about.”

“‘Tis not what I asked.”

“I did not do it.”

“Good.”

“I hate someone else touching me. Including myself.” hunger clouded his eye and then you were panting, arching your back as he slipped two fingers between your wet lips. “Do you see what you did to me?” you panted next to his ear, feeling his hot cheek against yours and the low groan hissed through his teeth as he bit your jaw. “I loathe my own body when you’re not inside me.” you said, cursing his name as he slid a third finger “You turned me into a vestige.”

You spin the coin one last time and you’re out of your room. He’s sitting by the fire, unbothered as you step in front of him. The only sign that tells you he’s not transmuted into stone is the light raising of his chest.

“No roses?”

No answer. Only a glance up before returning to the flames.

“I know what happened. Lucerys is dead.”

Aemond looks up, his eye is peaceful. A malignant peace the Gods will curse him for.

“Why are you hiding in here?”

“I am not.” he says “I’m sparing my family.”

“Of what?”

“My lack of regret.” the words do not come out of his mouth, but from some haunted place where a maimed child swore revenge on and on, screamed it so much that he’d lost his voice, so he carved it into his flesh and the retribution had finally come, mangling his nephew in bits of bones swallowed by the sea.

“Don’t spare me.” You say sitting on his lap, as at the altar of your own.

“This means war.” he says tilting his chin until he’s breathing through your lips “Your husband shall be willing to go back to the West and call his banners.”

“Indeed.”

“And where will you be?”

“Where my loyalty lies. Until all the roses turn to black.”

PART II

#liv(in la vida loca)#liv's drabbles #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

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bellofthemeadow · 4 months

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Aemond Targaryen | Series Masterlist

(The picture does not represent what Lady looks like, no physical description is given)

Aemond Targaryen X Dayne!Reader

Masterlist

Series Summary:

As a lady of house Dayne you were always one step removed from the game of thrones. But destiny had other plans, catapulting you into the forefront of power struggles and courtly intrigues as the new bride of Prince Aemond Targaryen. In a world where alliances are as fickle as the wind and love is a luxury few can afford, will you be able to navigate the perilous path laid before you? Caught in a bitter dance, you are faced with a harrowing choice: forge a bond strong enough to withstand the flames of dragonfire, or perish in the ashes of a kingdom teetering on the brink of war.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Tropes: Idiots in love, arrange marriage, from stranger to lover

Prologue: The Ghost of Starfall

Chapter 1: The Green Luncheon

Chapter 2: Flea Bottom

Chapter 3 : Through your Eyes

Chapter 4: The Iron Throne

Interlude - At Dawn (new)

#series masterlist #masterlist #aemond targaryen x you #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #house targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewanverse

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.”

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.

#this weirdly being one of the fav things Ive written and I did it in like a couple of hours wimfksnf #like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd aemond #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

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gulnarsultan · 7 months

Text

》 Unwanted guest.《

~Many years later~

Years had passed since you ran away from your marriage and your husband. You had built a new life for yourself in Pentos. Nine months later, three healthy babies joined your new life. All three inherited their father Aemond's silver hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. However, they were all chubby like you and had your facial features. You had a lovely house and a small field and farm next to your house. You were employing a few servants. You were paying for your financial needs by selling your handicrafts and using the income from the bakery you ran. You named your first-born son Aerion, your second-born son Rhaegel, and your third-born daughter Shaena. You felt very lucky to be blessed to be the mother of three healthy children. Thanks to the merchants from Weseros, you learned what was going on. From what you heard, Rhaenyra and her supporters lost. Honestly, you were very happy when you heard this news for your mother-in-law. Alicent truly saw you as her daughter.

During these years, Aemond refused to remarry. He had always maintained that he was his wife and heir.

Three dragon roars took you out of your dream world. When you looked at the sky, you saw your children returning with their dragons.

You were very scared when you saw three wild dragons at your door a year ago. However, in a short time, the dragons gained your trust. Meanwhile, rumor had reached Aemond that there were three silver-colored children in Pentos who were dragon riders. He flew to Pentos without thinking. When he found you and the children, he felt surprise and happiness at the same time. However, you were not happy at all when you saw Aemond.

"My lady wife."

"I think you are wrong, my Lord. I have no husband. Moreover, your only wife is your sister Helaena Targaryen."

"You are my wife. I regret what I did to you. Please give me another chance."

"Your regret does not change anything. I have not forgotten what you did and said to me. I forgave you. But I am not stupid enough to give you a second chance. I will give you a chance once. I gave you a chance when I married you. You lost your chance. Now go away. Don't come close to us again." ."

For months, Aemond tried to get closer to you and your children in Pentos. He managed to establish a good bond with your children as long as he stayed with them. Realizing that you would not be convinced, Aemond brought his mother to you as the only solution. You agreed to return for Queen Alicent's sake. But you warned them that you would never be a match for Aemond. After returning to the castle, Aemond had restricted you from leaving your room. You could not go into the garden without Aemond or the guards. Most of your time was spent with your children, Queen Alicent and Aemond. A few months after your return, you learned that you were pregnant. You weren't surprised at all by this news. Aemond wouldn't let you drink moon tea. Nine months later, you gave birth to healthy twin babies. Your newborn son is named Baelon and your second-born daughter is named Aelora. Even if you had not fully forgiven Aemond, you had chosen to play the role of obedient wife for the good of your family and the realm.

#prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x female reader #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen x reader #yandere house of the dragon #hotd x reader #yandere game of thrones #house targaryen

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

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Pearl of The Realm | Sneak Peek

Story Warnings: arranged marriage, canon-typical sexism, smut, 18+, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

A/N: This story has some wonderful art done by @aegonx which will be available to view alongside the full fic when HOTD Big Bang is in full swing 😙 in the meantime, enjoy the teaser!

He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head. What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned. That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position. Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now. He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court.

Coming to @hotd-bigbang in November '23!

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

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Avarice and Arrogance (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Aemond Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

Synopsis: Aemond was always confident that he could protect you and his family from any threat, but the Gods had to dole out a lesson for his impunity, and a particularly cruel one at that.

Warnings: TW! Character death, violence, torture, angst, Aemond being somewhat toxic??

Word Count: 2.6K words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for the reader. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: You guys asked for angst, I delivered an overdose. I hope you enjoy, although I’m not very proud of this one shot. Inspired after overplaying the epic version of Aegon’s Coronation theme. Ramin Djawadi is my true King of the Seven Kingdoms

wonderful dividers credited to @firefly-graphics

“He whispered his final wish that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him!”

To anyone, Prince Aemond seemed the portrait of composure: his arms clasped behind his back, his expression cool and disinterested. Yet if one looked closely enough, they would see the tension in his jaw, his teeth gritted, his posture bordering more on stiff than of calmness. His lone violet eye glittered as he observed Aegon walking under the raised swords of the knights, looking as recalcitrant as always.

‘Had that been me…’ he thought bitterly, ‘I would’ve carried myself with pride. The smallfolk would’ve took one look at me and trusted that I had the greatness, the capability, to lead House Targaryen into the apex of our power.’

‘And yet,’ Aemond mused to himself as his mother kissed Aegon on the forehead, ‘reality is often disappointing.’

His fists clenched at his sides. It was unfair, his brother was naught but a wastrel, a fool constantly drunk in his cups and oft found buried in the tits of some common whore. What right had he to rule, save for being the firstborn son? How could someone as useless as him be Lord of the Seven Kingdoms? Even with their grandsire by his side giving him counsel, when his half sister received word of the coronation, and of their father’s death…Aemond dreaded to think what would happen. Would Aegon be able to rise up to the defence of their family?

Aemond took a deep breath to steady himself, when suddenly, he felt a warm hand grasping his, gently unclenching his fingers from his tightly formed fist. Surprised, he looked over to the unexpected source of comfort. His lady wife stood next to him, an indifferent expression on her lovely face as she kept her eyes fixed on the smallfolk. He noticed that she was holding his sweet sister, Helaena’s hand in her other hand, and his mind halted in its baleful, raging course to settle on her instead, admiring her.

My beautiful, brilliant lady wife.

She would’ve been the most wonderful queen, he thought, and the wave of resentment began its course once more. As if sensing the switch in Aemond’s thoughts, she squeezed his hand lightly in hers. Aemond marvelled at his wife, amazed at how she always could sense the slightest shifts in his moods, even when her eyes were not on him. And just like that, the worry and the resentment fell away, and his envy for his brother became a little easier to bear, even just for that moment.

But…he felt a sense of strangeness creep over him as he took in his wife’s features. Her face was impassive, but it was hard and cold, as if she did not approve of this very scene. As Aegon raised Blackfyre and rallied the crowd, and his wife squeezed Helaena’s hand tighter, Aemond realised that mayhaps her gesture was not done solely out of comfort, but for anxiety.

For fear.

You were chewing on your bottom lip, Helaena’s hand still in yours as you both stewed in contemplative silence, each engulfed with thoughts and worries of your own. Aemond frowned as he watched his sister and his beloved. Aegon had ridden in a separate wheelhouse with their mother and grandsire, and mayhaps it was for the better, given the gloomy atmosphere.

When they were back in the safety of their apartments, Aemond followed his wife’s every movement in rapt attention. You began unravelling the tight updo that your hair was in, running your hands through your long locks pensively. It was done now…you were true traitors to the Crown. You sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl in bed and hope that this was nothing but an unpleasant dream.

Suddenly, you felt warm arms engulfing you from behind. Aemond dropped his chin onto his beloved’s shoulder as he embraced her, breathing in her scent. “Tell me what troubles you, my love,” his voice husky.

You shook your head slightly, trying to mask your thoughts. “Tis nothing, my love. I swear it.”

Aemond chuckled, a dark and soft sound. “Liar.”

He spun his beloved round to face him, taking note of her expression. “I know you are worried,” his voice was soft, “We are husband and wife, my love. Whatever troubles you hold, I want to know all of it. We swore before the Gods, did we not? To share each other’s burdens? We will honour our vows, do we not?”

Your lips twisted slightly, trying not to grimace. “If vows were of any matter to us, then we would not have committed such a grave sin.” Aemond frowned, the reasons for his wife’s anxiety suddenly becoming apparent to him. “Aegon is the King now,” he reminded her, “My father named him so.”

You let out a humourless snort. “He was an old man, half senile and drunk on the Milk of Poppy.” Aemond opened his mouth as if to protest, but you continued before he could. “The late king had named Rhaenyra as his heir. Even when the Stranger drew close, he had forsaken his health and braved through his pain to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim during Vaemond’s speech. Does the Hand expect all of Westeros to believe the King changed his mind all of a sudden on his deathbed? It is insanity, and even a deaf fool would know better.”

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice was low, tinged with warning. “You will not insult my grandsire like this. It is done now, and that is the truth.” You persisted, however. “Putting that aside, Rhaenyra will seek to have all our heads when the news breaks. How can your grandsire be as foolish as to put all of us in danger like this?”

Aemond arched a brow, “Is that what you’re worried about?” “Are you not worried about that?” Aemond laughed, “We have dragons, my love. I should think Vhagar, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre are enough to defend us. That whore on Dragonstone will soon realise that she can get angry, and she can spit and curse all she wants, but she cannot match against our might.”

You looked unconvinced, which irked Aemond a little. Why was she so worried? “Do not tell me,” his voice was low with menace, “That you are loyal to Rhaenyra. That you are sympathetic to that whore’s cause.” You kept mum, but your eyes told Aemond everything he needed to know. He snarled, moving to pin you against the wall.

Your eyes widened with panic, your hands moving to push Aemond away, but he held your wrists in a vice grip. You had never seen him so angry with you before. “You are my wife,” he hissed angrily, “Your priorities should lie with me, with my family. Our family. In keeping us safe from that accursed whore and my uncle.” “And making Aegon king, usurping the rightful queen, is supposed to keep us safe?” You argued, unintimidated. “Have you lost all your senses, Aemond? We are traitors! Usurpers! You claim protecting your family is your priority, but yet you allow your grandsire to risk our lives for his mad grab for power!” Aemond’s grip tightened on your wrists, causing you to wince and fall silent. Aemond took notice of that, but he couldn’t let you go. Not just yet. He needed to make his point.

“I said, do not speak of my grandsire in that manner,” he seethed. “He is my family, and I will not tolerate you insulting him.” He took a deep breath, letting go of his wife’s wrists, and she took the chance to push him away before fleeing to their bed. He sighed and sat down next to her, but she only moved away and folded her arms, turning her back on him. He heard a soft sniffle, and he realised with horror that she was crying. He had made her cry.

A pang of guilt shot through Aemond’s heart, and he tentatively reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, dismayed when she flinched away from his touch. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, my love,” he said quietly, “I got carried away, and I hurt you. I apologise for that.” He saw her shoulders lose some of their tension at his apology, and a glimmer of hope shone in his violet eye. Mayhaps he could make her see his viewpoint after all. He knew of her house’s loyalty to Rhaenyra’s claim, and how she might be swayed to support Rhaenyra’s claim, but she had to see. That this was the best for their family.

“My love…” he bit his lip, “I know my words were harsh, but it is true. What is done is done. Even if I dislike Aegon being on the throne, he is my brother. If Rhaenyra had taken the throne, she would’ve had us executed. She would not suffer any presence that could be a threat to her claim to the throne. Even if she did not, there is no doubt Daemon would.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Rhaenyra is impulsive, violent and reckless. You saw how she took off Vaemond’s head when his only crime was speaking the truth. Her son blinded me when we were naught but boys,” Aemond’s voice became hard. “If we allow her to ascend the throne, that means that the Strong bastard, Jace, would ascend the throne after her. Do you really think the realm would really bow before him?”

Your hard gaze softened a little, and Aemond saw a window of opportunity. “Think rationally, my love,” Aemond pleaded softly, “My father may have named Rhaenyra the heir, but it is an irreplaceable fact that the lords of Westeros would never bow before her. The Seven Kingdoms would plunge into chaos, do you really want that?” Aemond raised her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “I know you’re afraid of Rhaenyra’s wrath, but I ask of you to trust me. Trust that I will keep us safe, no matter what.”

“...I’m not sure if you can, Aemond.” Aemond’s heart dropped, “Whatever do you mean?” You finally turned to face him, and he was alarmed when he took note of the tears glistening at the corner of your eyes. “Aemond…I’m with child. For nearly three moons now.”

Aemond swore his heart stopped at that very moment. But his shock only lasted briefly before he pulled you into his arms, voice filled with excitement and wonder, “You’re with child? Our child?” When he broke the embrace, you were surprised to see the corner of his violet eye wet. Aemond dropped to his knees in front of you, stroking his hand over your stomach reverently, in disbelief almost. “We’re going to be parents…” he murmured, “I’m going to be a father.”

But even in Aemond’s joy, you could not find it in yourself to smile. Not with the threat of the impending succession war. Aemond noticed your discomfort, but nothing could take away the happiness he felt at the moment. “My love, you don’t have to be afraid,” his voice was reassuring, “I swear on my honour, on the Old Gods and the New, on the Seven and all my ancestors, that I would burn the world to ashes on Vhagar before I let anyone lay a finger on you or our child.” He took your hand, cradling it in his, tilting his head upwards, a pleading look in his eye, for you to believe in him, to trust him to keep you safe.

“But even all the dragons in this world will not keep us from reaping the fate we sowed,” you said quietly, eyes never leaving Aemond’s. “The gods will strike us down for our treason.”

Aemond rolled his eye, exasperated that his wife just didn’t seem to grasp the true extent of their power. “We are Targaryens, my love,” Aemond said self-assuredly. “We possess dragons, the largest, most dangerous and powerful creatures in the world. The gods may try as they might, but they can never strike us down. Seven hells, I would dare say we are the gods, my love,” Aemond chuckled at how your eyes widened at his brazen words. “For what other than a god can mount a dragon, and command it?” “Don’t say things like that, Aemond,” you were aghast, “The Seven will-”

“Fuck the Seven,” Aemond said bluntly. “When men pray, the Gods never answer. Why should we fear the consequences inflicted upon us by some unknown higher power?” He resumed his seat on their bed, pulling you back into his embrace and gently stroking your hair. “We need not fear the Gods, my love,” he murmured softly. “You will see soon enough, when war comes, and the Gods do nothing to interfere, then you will come to revere them less. In the meantime, you will come to see who the true gods are, when our dragons raze the earth and win this godforsaken war.”

It was known to all that the gods despise hubris, and perhaps they were watching that evening, when you laid your head on Aemond’s chest with a sigh and allowed him to soothe and comfort you, making promises that he would keep you safe no matter what.

Aemond had been so sure in his words, so confident in his beliefs and in his abilities, and blinded by his ego. Mayhaps this was what drove him when he bade Vhagar prowl around Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax in the stormy skies of Storms’ End, shouting for the Strong bastard to repay the debt he owed.

Mayhaps his pride was what had blinded him to the possibility that he could never keep his family safe after his act of kinslaying.

But he knew for sure that he had regretted making an enemy of the gods when he saw you, eyes wide with fear, a sharp dragonglass blade to your throat as you were held hostage by some cutpurse. An eye for an eye, a son for a son, the cutpurse had grinned, before slitting your throat and lodging the dagger into your stomach.

It mattered not how much Aemond had howled with grief as he held your lifeless frame in his arms, begging for you to wake up. It mattered not when Aemond personally tortured your assassin with the most vicious methods he could devise, flaying every inch of skin from his body until he had expired. Even in death, he was not spared of Aemond’s wrath. His body was marked with incisions when it was finally fed to Vhagar, courtesy of Aemond cutting out his heart and crushing it with his bare hands. It mattered not when Aemond had sworn to avenge you no matter the cost, to cut down Daemon Targaryen and give him the same treatment he had for the cutpurse. It took the combined efforts of the Queen Dowager, Queen Helaena, King Aegon, the Hand, and many other lords and knights of the Kingsguard to prevent him from mounting Vhagar upon the cutpurse’s death to fly to Dragonstone. A fool’s folly, they called it, but Aemond had drawn his sword and snarled at them to get out of his way, lest they wish to be the recipient of Vhagar’s flames. It was only when Alicent motioned for Ser Criston to deliver a blow that rendered Aemond unconscious that they could restrain him at all.

A part of Aemond had died that day, and he rained curses upon the Seven, on his uncle, on his wretched half-sister as he took his seat in the Small Council, being the advocate for absolute and brutal violence against the Blacks. And yet he did not repent for looking down upon the gods, not even till the day when he faced his uncle Daemon in battle and died in the cursed halls of Harrenhal. Another casualty of the Dance of the Dragons.

After all, even the Valyrian dragonlords of old had not been able to escape the Stranger’s clutches when death came for them. And Aemond Targaryen was no different.

...i’m very sorry :( but I swear, happier Aemond one shots are coming 😭

Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy

Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) thank you for reading! 💗

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allkordelia · 5 months

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Keep Me Near Your Heart VII

It didn't take long for me and aemond to get to our shared chamber, the air was filled with a sense of melancholia and anticipation. As we made our way into our solar passing Ser Krey, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. My heart felt too heavy and my chest felt like someone was squeezing it, I put my hand on my belly rubbing it trying to calm myself down, and return my baby kicked making my heart feel less heavy.

Once we were in our chamber, Aemond wasted no time in taking me to bed. I tried to push the uneasiness from my mind as we lay together, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. However, before long, the exhaustion of the day caught up with me, and the unsettling feeling slowly started to drift into the back of my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up to find myself alone in the bed. It took a moment for me to realize that Aemond was gone, and another moment for my worries to turn into anger. Feeling stupid for letting myself be fooled by Aemond's outward displays of affection, I toss the sheets and covers aside, sliding out of bed, to find and confront my husband. I pushed open the door, turning my head to look around the solar, a small hope that he would be there reading or sleeping on a settee, but nope, he was not there either.

I shook my head angrily and stalked towards the door, I slammed my fist into the door knocking trying to get the knights on the other side's attention, I paused waiting before going back to banging on the doors.

"Open this fucking door, right now. Or I swear to The Mother, you will have hell to pay--" Before I could finish my threat the door opened revealing Ser Krey, I glared at him, "Where is he?" I asked making the other man look hesitant before answering.

"Who--"

"Don't." I grit making Krey press his lips together, "Where is my husband." I asked again.

Krey opened and closed his mouth as no one came out, the longer he stood there rambling like a fool, the longer my anger mounted. When no one words that could dwindle my feelings, I grab the neck of his chest plate making Krey's words fade away as he is brought to my eye level.

"Take me to my husband or I'll call my dragon to do." My threat hung in the air, and Krey's eyes flickered between mine as he thought, I let go of him when he finally nodded his head making him stand straight.

"I take you to him, my lady."

「 ⊹₊♚₊⊹ 」

Krey was ahead of me as he led me through the halls, I rubbed my fingers together nervously.

What was I going to say? Was this a good idea, maybe I should go back.

I stopped at the thought before the uneasiness from earlier came back, a flutter in my tummy making me put my hand on my stomach feeling my baby move around. A warm feeling spread in my chest when I felt the baby kick, I looked down to the floor as tears welled in my eyes.

Something in me is telling me to turn back to go back to my chamber and forget about Aemind and whatever he is doing. But, how could I when he lied to me and used me, after he promised me she didn't mean anything, why was I so stupid to trust that he meant what he said, I shook my head angrily as the warm feeling turned cold in my heart, he lied he doesn't care about me or our baby? He never cared. I hate him.

"My lady?" I glance up at Krey as he stands at the end of the hall watching me with an unreadable look.

"...coming," I say softly, before continuing as he turns a corner.

A ping of fear plucked at my heart before a wave of anger and bitterness washed it. I was going to give him a piece of my mind, and after that, I will never speak to him again and I will make my sole mission that doesn't come near me or my baby.

I look around not knowing where we are, we are close to the queen's chamber you know that for sure, but what would Aemond be doing here?

"His chamber, m'lady." I look over at Ser Krey as he stands in front of me, he steps aside, revealing a black door with a dragon as a handle.

So, this is where he takes her, what an obvious place. He didn't even try to find a secure location to hide his infidelity, that bastard, that horrible cheating manipulative bastard.

A growl rambles through my chest, as I glare at the door where my supposed 'loving' husband is supposed to be. I move past Ser Krey with such haste that it takes him a moment to go after me and stop me from banging on Aemond's door, I turn my glare to Krey as he looks down at me with an unsure look.

"Are you sure about this, m'lady?" He asks low, making me furrow my brows.

"Of course, I am, why wouldn't I be?" I questioned angrily, Krey gave me a worried look.

"I just...think you should think about what you about to do," I frown a bit at the concern in her voice, "I just fear that whatever is behind that door, you might get hurt or worse your baby." I quirk a brow at him, why does he care if I get hurt or not, I knock his hand from my elbow and stare at him remembering what he did.

"Don't pretend to care about me." He frowns down at me.

"I do care about you, princess--" He starts.

"Shut up! Your loyalty lies with my husband, and that bastard, Ser Cole." He looks at me taken back, "Yes, I know that you took his side over mine, and lied to my husband for him." Ser Krey looks away from me with guilt and shame written on his face.

"I had no choice, Ser Ashford--"

"I don't care." I said making him look at me, "Because you weren't where you were supposed to be, I lost my baby and I had to live with that every day, " I croaked, Ser Krey looked at me with pleading eyes, he looked like he wanted to say something but choose again it.

"I...I'm sorry, m'lady."

I snarl keeping my bottom lip from trembling, "Too late, now get out of my way." I said elbowing past him, I stalked towards Aemond's door.

I stopped, putting my ear close to the door to see if I could hear anything, it was quiet, so I stepped closer pressing my ear to the door hoping to hear better. When I didn't hear anything I pulled back with a frown, maybe I was wrong, maybe was reckless and went for a walk, he was probably back in our chamber--

"Aemond," A sultry voice of a female thrill, loud enough to be heard through the door.

My heart clenched when I heard deep laughter that you never heard from Aemond fill the air before a familiar deep groan replaced it, my stomach churned feeling like I was going to throw up, I swallowed down the lump in my throat and started banging on the door.

I heard a hushed whisper, when the door didn't open I banged again with both fists, clenching my jaw to keep from yelling not wanting to give away that it was me. It took a minute before the door opened, I watched Aemond peek out but before he could register it was me. I shoved the door open causing him to stumble back as I made my way into his chamber, I looked around it was very aemond, everything was black or grey and there were books along with scrolls scattered on his desk.

"Jaenara." I ignored Aemond's shock and whipped around to face his bed to find the person I was looking for.

The darker-haired woman looked at me with wide and fearful eyes, she was holding the covers against her chest but you could see her naked shoulder, I glanced at aemond to see he was not wearing a shirt. I look back at the woman, observing her features, she was pretty I give her that.

"Jaenara, what--" I turn on my heels and stalk towards the door.

Aemond moved to touch me but dodged his hand and walked out of the room, Ser Krey was standing in the hall still with a downcast look.

"Jaenara, where--wait." Aemond was behind me.

I felt his hand on my shoulder, I turned quickly without thinking and slapped my palm across his cheek causing him to snap his head to the right. I step back taking his hand off my shoulder, he looks at me with a mixture of shock and anger, making my anger build.

"Your dead to me." Aemond looked taken back by my words before he had appeared.

"We talk about this later." I shook my head turning away from him, walking away when spoke again, "Ser Krey, make sure my sweet wife gets escorted back to our chamber--" I whipped around as I got near Ser Krey

"The hell with you!" I seethe, and he just sneers at me, Ser Krey grabbed my shoulder before I could stalk back to my bastard I called my husband.

"M'lady, please. Do as he says." I shrugged his hand off me and turned from him to walk down the hall with my hand on my belly.

I took deep breaths as I walked, my body felt like it was about to shut down, and I bit my lip to prevent myself from exploding. The nerve of him, to have the guts to laugh in my face after I caught him, I should have listened to jacerys, I should have never allowed myself to trust him. I should never have allowed myself to love him, bastard.

I groan stopping feeling a stir in my belly, I leaned against the wall as pain shot through me.

"M'lady, are you alright?" Ser Krey asked behind me, I grit my teeth and nodded before pushing myself off the wall, a sudden wave of nausea hit making me stumble causing Ser Krey to latch his hands onto my waist to steady me, "M'lady, if you are not feeling well you must tell, and I'll go get the masters." I shook my head biting down on my tongue.

"I'm fine..." I grunt, "...just get me back to my chamber," I ordered.

Ser Krey uttered something under his breath, and before I knew it u were getting lifted off my feet. My arm shot up to wrap around Ser Krey's shoulder, shooting him a look as he carried me in his arms.

"I'm not crippled, you fool. Put me down I can walk--"

"Not risky it, m'lady." He says, as I hold onto his chest plate for dear life, he is quiet for a minute as he walks before finally speaking,"...I know you think I don't care about you but I do..." he starts, I sigh resting my head on his shoulder keeping my eyes on the wall, "...more than you think, don't ask me why, I just do, ever since I first meet you I have only wanted to protect you." I stayed quiet not entertaining this charade, "Just want you to know that from henceforth on, I will protect you and my loyalty will only lie with you, princess. Always." I could feel his nose brushing against my forehead as he looked at me, I closed my eyes ignoring him.

He can say whatever he wants, he will not trick me into believing he truly cares.

「 ⊹₊♚₊⊹ 」

Ser Krey set me down once we were in the solar, Enith came out of my chamber with a worried look.

"Princess, you worried me to death, where were you." She asked coming to my side, before grabbing my hand, I glanced at her before looking away and taking my hand from her grasp.

"I'm going to bed." Enith frowned before I walked passed her, I heard whispering behind me but shut it out as I walked into my room.

I put my hand on the side of my belly and climbed onto the bed, I moved the pillow belonging to Aemond behind me as I lay perched there. I patterned my fingers on my belly waiting for Enith knowing she was going to have a lot of questions, I looked to my half-open door when I heard the main door closed and a pad of feet coming my way.

Enith walks in coming over to stand at the end of the bed with her hands clasped together.

"You scared me half to death, you know." She started low," Where did you go, jaenara." She asked, I glanced away from her, I didn't want to talk about it or even think about it, but how could I keep this to myself?

I want to tell her everything but can't, I thought finding out the truth would have made it easy for me not to love aemond. Even though I hated him with every fiber of my being, I still loved him even if he didn't care that I found out about his infidelity.

A storm of emotions swirling inside me, and before I knew it tears welled up in my eyes as my mind played the deep rambling of his laugh through the door. He never laughed around me, he barely even smiled my way, gods why did he marry me, I never did anything to him. It was nice. I was kind to him, was that not enough? What did I have to do to get him to look at me like that or to love me like he did her?

I was given a chance to be with her but he chose to give me more pain, I felt the weight of betrayal and heartbreak crushing me, and I broke down in sobs.

"Oh, my lady." Enith rushed over to me, I covered my face with my hands as I sobbed harder, in an instant I felt Enith wrap me in her embrace, "Please, my lady, tell me what happened. Was it the prince? Did he do something to you?" She accused holding me to her chest.

"He...He..." I couldn't get the words out, it was too painful to say out loud. I felt a rumble in Enith's chest as she growled.

"Curse him. Did he put his hands on you? I swear to gods, I'll kill him if he did, jaenara." I sniff, moving my hand to wipe at my cheek, I shifted so I could look up at Enith with a teary smile.

"I wish I was like you, You are so brave and so fearless." I sniff downcasting, "Maybe, if I was a little bit like you I wouldn't be in this mess." Enith sighs from above before caressing my hair.

"You shouldn't be in this mess in the first place, you deserve better than Aemond. You deserve someone who will love you back unconditionally, not someone who only thinks about themselves." She said softly as her hand moved between my hair and my back, I swallowed moving close to her.

"That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while." Enith chuckles making me join her.

"That's not funny," Enith says.

"I know but it's better to laugh than to cry, right?" Enith hummed.

"Right."

Enith laid her cheek on the top of my head as she started humming, a sweet song that I heard her hum around the solar as she cleaned up. The song was smoothing, and rocked us gently, swaying as I slowly calmed down.

"Are you ready to tell me, what happened, m'lady?" Enith finally asked, I sniff rubbing my eyes before nodding.

Enith pulled back to look at me, her hands were on my forearm, gently massaging them.

"...I woke up alone after aemond put me to bed, I had an inkling at the celebration of why aemond was being distant..." I pressed my lips together feeling them them begin to tremble, "So, I had Ser Krey take me to him and..." I shook my head, thinking couldn't finish the sentence, I heard Enith sigh sadly as she moved her hands to squeeze minds.

"Oh, princess, I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. I truly thought he would have some heart to break it off before the baby came. " Enith says sympathetic.

I nod my head before stopping after realizing what she just said, I look at Enith as she stares at our hands.

"Wait..." Enith looks at me as I take my hands back, "...you knew about her?" I asked, Enith gave me a guilty look, and my heart felt heavy again, "Oh my gods." I whispered, moving away from her and causing Enith to frown.

"Jaenara--"

"How long?" I asked looking down at my covers.

"My lady--" Enith reached her hand out to touch me but I moved further away from her and snapped my eyes at her.

"I said how long," I hissed making Enith look at me with sadness before looking away.

"Since her arrival." My eyes widen, thinking if she was telling the truth that would mean..." You knew for three weeks and didn't tell me." I accused getting off the bed to look at her, Enith looked ashamed.

"It didn't want to overwhelm you with such news--" I let out a bitter laugh.

"Overwhelmed me? Rather than telling me my husband has been fucking some...some harlot this whole time, you thought to keep it a secret." I saw, that everything in my body was shaky I was so mad that she kept this for me.

"I was trying to protect you." Enith defends.

"Protect me! Here I thought it was me. That I did something wrong, that I said something to drive him away. Oh, gods." My hands went into my hair clenching it as I started to pace, "I blamed myself for weeks on end, cried myself to sleep, and you knew the whole time that he has been lying with that woman." I shouted looking back at her, causing her to flinch.

"I'm sorry--" I grabbed the candle holder next to me and threw it across the room making it smash against the mirror in the corner.

"I am sick of hearing that. You are not. None of you are." I cried putting my hands on my chest as everything began to feel too much, "I thought you care about me. Trusted you." I weep.

"I do, m'lady. I do care about you, please you have to understand why I did it." Enith had tears falling down her cheeks, as she got up and made her way around she tried to get me to listen, and I glared at her angrily moving away.

"No! I don't have to listen to you. You don't care about me, you never did you were just another person to keep me under his thumb." Enith shakes her head as she denies my claims, "I don't want to hear it! I want you out of my sight." I screamed.

"Jaenara, please--" Enith begged, I shook my head and covered my ears.

"Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!" I repeated, "I hate you. I hate you all now. GET OUT." Enith duck as I threw one of my shoes at her.

I march over to her and start pushing her towards the door, as zenith tries to reason with me, I feel a pain in my lower stomach but ignore it.

"I don't ever want to see you again." I gave her one last shove before shutting my door and slamming the lock in place to keep her out.

"Jaenara, please. Don't do this." Enith says, her voice muffled.

I put my back against the door, why was everybody against me, what did I do to deserve this life?

The pain from earlier returns but worse, I moan in pain as I bend over clenching my stomach. When the pain stopped I slowly made my way across the room, but before I could reach my bed another pain shot through me causing me to collapse. I tried to grab onto the settee but my hand slipped against it making me bump my side into the small table, knocking over a vase, causing a glass to break.

"Jaenara? What--What was that?" Enith called through the door, enith pulled at the handle frantically as she called my name again.

I was on my knees when I saw, the spots of blood on my nightgown. I whimper as I realize what is happening, I start to cry out as my body wreck in agony.

"Jaenara, please. Answer me." I only cried out harder in response as my baby tried to come into this world, "Guards! Ser Krey!" I took in deep breath, remembering what my mother did when she went into labor with Joffrey.

I used the little strength I had to crawl onto the settee to sit on the edge, I moaned clenching the cushions before parting my legs. I heard hurried footsteps before I heard Enith yelling, before being calmed down by Ser Krey. I flinch when the door banged as if someone ran into it, I look over at the door weakly as they do it again making the door shake.

I turn away as I suck in deep breaths, the baby was early and it was coming, rather I liked it or not. I lick my dry lips before biting down on my bottom lip, I push as I clench the cushions. I stopped taking a breather for a moment before pushing again, I couldn't help but let out a sharp yell as it felt like my body was being torn apart.

"Hold on, princess!" Ser Krey shouted through the door.

"Ahhh..." I yelled again as I pushed once again.

My legs shook when I felt pressure between them, I moved to drag my gown up over my knees as I got ready to hold my baby. I took in quick breath before pushing again, my painful groans soon turned into screams as I pushed as hard as I could.

My screams mixed with another's as I felt my baby slide out into my hands, I gasped before leaning back on the settee, and I chortled at my baby wailing. He was alive! I brought him closer and used my nightgown to wipe off the blood and grim before gazing at him. I mean her. It was a girl. Aemond wasn't going to be happy about this.

Fuck him.

I don't care if his happy or not, I birth to a girl, my baby girl. My Visenya. I gazed down at her with wonder, she was small but not too small to worry, I brushed my hand over her head caressing it sweetly. I smiled widely when she opened her eyes, I could sense she was wondering where she was as she pulled the cutest face.

"Hello, beautiful." Visenya blinked slowly at me before her little arm reached up.

The door finally barged open making me look over it with frantic eyes, visenya started to cry again at the sudden loud noise. I looked down at her and held her to my chest, rocking her, trying to hush her cries.

"Gods be good." Ser Ashford said by the door.

"Oh, my lady." Enith's voice made me look over at her as she collapsed by my side.

"I'm calling her, Visenya," I said making Enith look from the baby to me, she gave a teary smile.

"A perfect name for the perfect baby." I smiled at that before looking down at my baby, "...jaenara, I am sorry for not telling you, I just...I just didn't want to stress you or baby, you have to understand that." I sigh moving my thumb to caress Visenya's cheek.

Before I was angry, mostly at aemond, and I took it out on Enith. I understand. If she had told me weeks ago, I'd probably have done what she said, stress myself out by putting me and my baby in harm's way. She was right to keep it from me, even though deep down I wish I knew, so I didn't have to waste time worrying about aemond and focus on getting him back.

"Thank you..." I look at her, "...I'm sorry too." Enith smiles at me before maester orwyle comes around.

"We must check the babe, princess." I looked at him warily, keeping a secure hand on my baby's back, "I promise you will get her back once you all rested up." I frown as he nears with wetnurses and servants, he takes a vial out of his robe with a milky substance in it, "...for the pain." He says handing it over to Enith, there was a stir in my gut that was telling me not to give him my baby,

"It's okay." I look at Enith, and she smiles at me making me feel less worried, "I'll be with her the whole time, and once you wake we will be the first you see." Enith held out the vial for me, I was hesitant for a minute before taking the vial out of her hand.

Enith gently grabbed the baby from me, and my heart clenched as Visenya let out a whimper. I watched as Enith stood up and followed maester Oswyle, soon Ser Krey came to stand by my side.

"Do you need help getting up, my lady?" I look at him before turning to watch Enith and the maester walk out of the room.

"No...I-I got it." I used the arm of the settee to get up, and Ser Krey's hand shot up to catch my arm before I stumbled. He removed his hand once I was steady, he put one arm around my waist as the other held my left hand, and he helped me to my bed.

I wince as I climb up on the bed with little assistance from Ser Krey, I settle against the headboard as Krey puts the covers over my middle.

"Don't forget your medicine, my lady." Krey says finally stepping back to look at me, I nod my head looking down at the vial in my hand, "You were so brave, princess." He says making me look at him, "I'm happy you okay." I hummed before looking at the vial.

"Thank you," I mumbled, I twisted the vial in my hand as I made Krey step away from my bed.

I sigh before uncorking the vial, I look over at the open door before turning my attention back to the vial. I took a deep breath before taking a sip of the poppy's milk, the taste was odd, I corked in the vial and set it on the side table. I sigh again, looking up at the ceiling, my body hurts but not as much as it did when I was pushing Visenya out. I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them, feeling them grow heavy, I blink up at the ceiling of my bed, focusing on the pattern of the fabric.

Slowly I could feel myself drifting off, the sounds around growing muffled, as I shut my eyes just to rest them for a few. The last thing I heard before I fell into a deep slumber, was a feminine voice that sounded gentle but slight edge.

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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My Little Sea Snake (Aemond x Reader)

Requested by @duhitzdae. Your requests are getting more and more difficult so I hope I wrote this the way you wished!

(Y/n) Velaryon was the first born child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, a true born heir created during the few times that her parents laid together, Rhaenyra was relieved when she was born, she had successfully done her part and completed her duty, it is rather grim to look at one’s birth as a simple duty but that was the truth of it.

(Y/n) inherited her fathers skin tone and long white mane yet her eyes were ice blue, to look at her was to love her, she was a beauty in her own way. As a babe she would cause a ruckus until she was safely tucked in her fathers eyes, “my little sea snake” he would teasingly call her as he rocked her back and forth and sang lullabies to her, every night before Laenor snuck out of the castle he would only do so after he rocked his baby girl to sleep, all the wet nurses were at awe at the devoted father. Laenor loved all his… children however would someone blame him for having a soft spot for (y/n)? She was his heir, his blood ran through her veins.

Her home was the ocean and the little girl would squeal with joy when her father brought her to sea for the first time, the water splashing on her brought her an immense amount of bliss while her father held her tightly, Laenor would often reminisce of that morrow, his pride and joy was the reason he upheld his marriage even in the slightest.

Rhaenyra loved her daughter yet when he looked at she represented everything she hated, a forced marriage out of convenience, she did not despise her husband nor her child but her heart resided somewhere else.

When her brother Jacaerys was born (y/n) tried to take a peek at the small babe, it was love at first sight for her although as he grew she heard whispers of how different they looked.

Time seemed to fly by and now her mother had given birth to another son, “another child to love while she ignores me” she thought, she put on the best show for everyone as she congratulated her mother who only half smiled and looked away from (y/n).

She had grown to turn a blind eye to her mothers cold manner, on the other hand it still hurt for a daughter to be brushed away from her own mother, she would have to stand by while her mother coddled her brothers, petting them and kissing them all the time, her father would pick up on his daughters sadness and run to her to smother her.

She had just landed from her dragon when she heard a loud cry from inside the castle at driftmark, the ceremony of her dear aunt leanas funeral had been heavy on her, especially when she saw her father grieving while he stood in the ocean with the water up to his waist.

Instinctively she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. The sight she met was brutal, her grandmother crying on top of a half burned corpse as her grandfather yelled at some soldier

“Father?”

She mumbled as her eyes filled with tears, she did not feel the impact of her knees crashing on the floor, she crawled next to the body still trying to process what was happening, her grandmothers crying made her want to rip off her ears from her head.

“It cannot be, Grandmother… it’s not my father is it?”

The last thing she remembers was her grandmothers blue eyes looking back at her, collapsing at the floor unconscious while her grandfather took her in his arms.

“Oh my dear, my dear (y/n)”

She watched from afar the wedding ceremony take place, her mother marrying Prince Daemon while her father had just lost his life hours ago. How ruthless can one be? She had enough when she saw them kiss, commanding her dragon to fly and land right in front of them. Everyone stepped back except the couple, Vermithor was one of the biggest dragons to ever grace the earth, an intimidating beast that (y/n) managed to claim stood before them while the girl looked down of them, tears streaming down her eyes.

“Congratulations to the happy couple. You two deserve each other, do not worry Rhaenyra I won’t spoil your marriage but just remember, I owe you a death”

(Y/n) flew and found safety to Pentos, she was greeted and treated like royalty as the Prince of Pentos gifted her a small castle and the land that surrounded it, (y/n) had changed from a girl to a cold hearted person in one nightfall. She trained until her feet bled, she had suffered so many injuries that after a while she didn’t really experience pain, (y/n) had cuts and scars all over her arms and legs from the battles she had part taken in honour of her grandsire Corlys, she stood by him and was willing to give her life towards his cause.

“The Faceless nightmare” was the nickname she had earned, a particular thing she had picked up was covering her face from the nose and down when she fought while her dragon flew above her and burned everything in her command, no one really knew what she looked like except her ice cold eyes, the most brutal and strongest soldier her grandisre had.

When Corlys laid ill of blood fever she could sense what was going to come for them, Vaemond was a crow that circled patiently until he saw a corpse he could feast on, specifically her grandsire, it truly disgusted her how can one secretly hope for the death of their own blood for glory.

“They cannot allow this grandsire, you are not dead”

“They know that my dearest, it is just another shot to Rhaenyra”

“I do not care about the throne but I must put a stop to this sick claim that wishes for you to die”

“Come here my little sea snake”

Corlys laid in his bed as (y/n) paced back and forth. The man could barely speak due to his fever, however as (y/n)s parental figure he felt obligated to support her in her delirium that had her causing up a storm with her circles.

(Y/n) complied, she sat next to his bed with her knees touching the floor as she took his warm hands in hers, his fever had gotten the best of him.

“Listen to me, you must go to the red keep on my behalf, back your mothers claim”

“No, I will not stand on her side”

“Your brother will be a good ruler, I know my brother and he will bring our Velaryon legacy to its knees. Don’t do it for her, do it for your grandsire, you will be heir one day, put your differences aside and do what’s right for the family”

When Rhaenyra arrived with her family at the red keep she was surprised to see the bronze fury outside of the castle, the humungous beast could only mean that her daughter was also close by, countless questions occupied her mind, has she sided with Vaemond? Was she here to claim driftmark for herself? Endless possible schemes made Rhaenyras head ache.

What was even more surprising was when Rhaenyra saw her daughter holding king Viserys as the walked in the throne room side by side.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, the first of his name, king of the andals and the rhoynar and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with his grand daughter princess (y/n) Velaryon, princess of dragon stone and a swore knight to Lord Corlys Velaryon”

(Y/n) was still dressed in armour attire as she supported her grandsire, her face covered like she was going to battle, mentally she was, she would actually feel more comfortable if she charged in the room with her sword in hand as she slashed through every single one of them. Now she had to play pretend and act all prim and proper in the presence of “noble” people that most of them wanted her dead.

“My grandsire will sit on the iron throne today Lord Otto”

(Y/n) declared as the older man stepped aside, she was never fond of Otto, he had ambitions and was an extremely calculated person, there was no authenticity when it came to his behaviour.

Meeting her mothers eyes was surreal. She was covered in scars from wounds that had fully healed yet the scar that her mother had created all these years ago still bled, all a girl ever needs is her mother, (y/n) never had that and then Rhaenyra robbed her from her father as well.

“Here my king”

She whispered to Viserys as she assisted him to settle on the throne. The sick old man looked at his grand daughter, with his weak hand he reached up to take off the cloth that covered her face, she saw how Viserys smiled fondly at the sight of her face being exposed, under all this armour and the tough facade was his little grand daughter was hiding, as the moments went by he could see her clear as the sky.

“My dearest (y/n)”

He managed to speak, (y/n) leaned into his hand that caressed her cheek, the touch deprived teenager in her screamed for comfort as her grandsire showed the affection she had missed, if her father was here everything would have been so different.

“May I speak my king?”

“Of course”

(Y/n) left her grandsires side to join the others, before she spoke she walked towards her grandmothers side to hold her hand. Rhaenys squeeze with might, to gaze at her grand daughter was like looking into Laenor, Rhaenys adored (y/n) ever since she was born, she was completely aware of her sons nature and her arrival was gods gift.

“My grandsire Lord Corlys is alive and resting, his recovery is slow yet steady, he send me here as his messenger. Firstly, he told me to hold his wife tightly and tell her how much he missed her. Second, he is severely disheartened about any petitions when it comes to his successor, my grandsire has always wished for my brother to take his place at drift mark, he asks for my aunt Leanas daughters to be betrothed to Jacaerys and Lucerys so we can strengthen the Velaryon Legacy. Lastly I wish to announce my proposition on my betrothal, it is not tradition still I ask of king Viserys to allow my betrothal with Aemond Targaryen, I have been informed that he is a fine sword man as well as a mighty dragon rider, let us join our houses once again”

Whispers took over the room as the news of her betrothal were heard.(y/n) had not seen Aemond since the incident at driftmark, she was the only one to defend him that night as the others scarred him for life for what (y/n) considered a petty argument, till this day she could not forgive herself when it came to her fail of protecting the young boy, this was her way to make up for the damage she allowed to take place.

“What bliss! My dearest (y/n)-“

“No”

Rhaenyra interrupted the king. She was fuming, how dare she match in here and declare her betrothal to a green, she could not comprehend that her own daughter was scheming against her. (Y/n) spun to face her mother, confusion written all over her face, she had backed up Rhaenyras claim, she secured her brothers succession what more did she want?

“No?”

“You have some nerve, overshadowing your brothers with your so called wedding plans, you want driftmark to pass to your brother while you scheme against the throne”

“It is an honest offering to uphold the peace that you keep disturbing”

“It is a malicious and calculated movement against your own family, have you no shame?”

(Y/n) did not speak, she just kept eye contact with the woman she called mother. (Y/n) had pushed her pride aside, she swallowed her pain, she ran away and came back to support her, yet nothing was good enough. Tears welled up in (y/n)s eyes as Rhaenyra scoffed at the vulnerable movement of her daughter that she thought was another play for manipulation.

“Tears? Really?”

“That is enough! As your king I command you to stop”

“You speak of family? All I ever craved was your love, I did everything to make you proud and you casted me aside, what do they have that I don’t? You were my mother”

“settle down now”

(Y/n) heard Aemond whisper to her at an attempt to console her while he rubbed her upper arms compassionately, tears had managed to escape (y/n)s eyes as she tried so desperately to find some type of emotion in her mothers eyes.

Aemond felt his heart ache at the sight, (y/n) had managed to go from a fierce warrior to a little girl in a blink of an eye, begging for a crumb of her mothers affection, he could not stand for it.

He had always kept the warm memory of her standing between him and her brothers to protect him in his mind for all these years or when she held his hand while the maester stitched up his eye, she was gentle soul which was something he could not say he would often listen to stories about her brothers.

Aemond would sometimes listen to conversations about (y/n)s accomplishments and admire her courage, now it was time for him to pay her back with the same kindness.

“The matter is settled, again. I hereby reaffirm prince Jacaerys of house Velaryon as heir to driftmark, the driftwood throne and the next lord of the tides. Let it be known that princess (y/n) of house Velaryon is betrothed to my son prince Aemond Targaryen, after their wedding (y/n) will be announced as my successor as I declare that my throne will pass to princess (y/n), making prince Aemond the next king consort”

“What?”

“Father you cannot-“

“You are a cruel woman Rhaenyra, your own daughter came from the battlefield to support you, to honour your family and you spoke in such… viciousness. You are not worthy of the throne, but (y/n)…. She is… destined to become a legend”

The man started to breathe heavy as you could listen to the pain he was experiencing. (Y/n) froze in her spot while Aemond held her hand, an act of intimacy he performed to show support in his betrothed, her hand was cold as Aemonds thumb made circles on her flesh, a subtle way to say “I am here”

“Let us be done with this”

Was the last thing the king declared before his wife tended to him and called for the maesters. If looks could kill Rhaenyra would have stabbed her daughter right in the heart, that was until Aemond did what (y/n) had done for him in his time of need, he took one step to stand in front of (y/n), acting like a human shield for the vulnerable woman while her mother was ready to assault her.

“Congratulations nephew, I look forward to the small court meetings we will attend together”

Aemond teased Jacaerys, he had no reason to do it other than taking the attention off of (y/n) who gripped his hand with all her might, before Jacaerys could respond Aemond turned his back on them and wrapped a hand around (y/n)s shoulders, to him it seemed like he was putting a wall between them and her, a wall (y/n) desperately needed.

(Y/n) gazed up at him with eyes full of gratitude, her bottom lip trembling as she put a fight to not sob in his arms, Aemond was a stranger, a distant family member yet he rose to the occasion better than her immediate family.

(Y/n) had to admit that after years of fighting and killing it felt nice to allow someone to protect her, even if the person he protected her from was the woman that broke her hips and went through hours of pain. (Y/n) thought of how she had paid back for those labour pains, (y/n) had been in pain all her life.

“Come along (y/n), I believe we have so much to talk about”

Requests are open!

@lightdragonrayne

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arabellasleopardcoat · 7 months

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Bouquet of Violets (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You are happy in your marriage, even if your husband can be quite hellish. It all starts to go wrong when a secret admirer shows up.

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! All the feelings! And yeah, mature language and topics. Canon character death (Not Aemond)

A/N: Hopelessly romantic (delusional) reader! meets Aemond. Based on a song I grew up listening. The girls that get it, get it.

Aemond, unlike you, remembers the first time the two of you met. You wore your hair down, back then. It cascaded down your back in the ways girl's hair often did before they flowered, unstyled and wild.

You must have been nine, or ten years old. He was twelve and having a temper tantrum, hiding in the corners near the throne room. Your father was in an audience with King Viserys, while you and your mother explored the Red Keep. Aemond had never found out what the meeting was about, nor did he care.

Your mother was dressed in brightly colored robes, matching your father’s. You were still dressed in the frocks of childhood. Your small, bony shoulder, had hit him right on the ribs as your mother walked you down the hallway, and Aemond had been ready to give you the tongue lashing of your life. Yet, something had halted him.

When you had bumped into him, you had raised your gaze, to meet his. Back then, he didn’t wear the eye patch, the scar tissue too raised to do so. Instead of flinching back at the gruesome sight of the marred flesh, as most people did, you had offered him a kind smile.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to.” Your sweet smile lit up your whole face. You were not the prettiest girl he had ever seen, all awkward limbs and missing a tooth. But you were the kindest. As you fell back into step with your mother, clutching your doll, Aemond could not help but be charmed by you.

So many years have passed that Aemond does not recall what your mother and you were talking about. What he does recall are another two things: First, that you were sheltered. You referred to a pet of some sorts as your friend. Second, you were clearly hung up on the notion of marriage.

Later, he would realize that The Stranger had not touched your family yet. While you might have been familiar with the notion of death, as many children were, but had not fully grasped the troubles of mortality. That was why you were concerned over the thought of what would happen to your pet when you married.

Your mother replied something along the lines of them going with you, but the doubt was clear in her tone. She was uncertain about the prolonged longevity of your childhood companion.

Sometimes Aemond thinks of how much you must have wept when they passed. The idea of you being so distraught over something you loved makes his heart ache in a weird way.

Darkly, he thinks of how you will react once he is dead. He knows his chance of surviving this are low, especially now. Will he merit as many tears as your pet did?

The words your mother last spoke before the two of you disappeared down the hallway were forever etched in his memory.

“The man who loves you will respect everything you love and hold dear. Remember that.”

You came to him with no pet. But he would have taken in an entire farm if you had.

The next time the two of you had crossed paths, Aemond had liked you even more. You were beautiful. Having long left behind the styles of childhood, your hair was worn up as a proper lady. It made it easier to admire your eyes, magnetizing and intelligent.

You were fond of reading and writing. When he saw you again, your nose was buried into a book. It was not philosophy, or history, or any useful subject, really. You read love stories, fairy stories and all sorts of things. Literature and poetry and children’s tales all rolled into one.

It was your mother, who encouraged that passion of yours. Despite being married to a man who was much older than her, and less educated, she had found happiness in him. She looked at the world in a rather unique way. One you had inherited.

You had been taught to read at an early age. According to your mother, education was the greatest equalizer between men and women, even if she didn’t voice it around your father. He didn’t know his letters very well, and so, had little clue about what books you choose to bury your nose in. If he had known, he would have disapproved.

Most men would have, truly. No one wanted young maidens to get unrealistic ideas about how marriage was supposed to go. Yet, when Aemond himself had the chance to put a stop to it, he found himself unable to.

If Aemond was to be honest with himself, he would have said he enjoyed it. The way your face would get all dreamy, your sighs so sweet, as you progressed on your reading and imagined a love like the ones in your books. Perhaps it had been the reason, in some misguided attempt to appeal to that side of you, he started doing this.

Your second meeting, which you thought had been the first, had not been due to chance. When Aemond was told it was time to marry, the choice came to your family or the Baratheons. He had never been one to protest his duties, no matter how opposed he was to it. But on this, he put forth his own selfish conditions. Aemond would marry you and no one else.

His mother had had to insist to your parents, unwilling to give up their precious daughter in times of political unrest. It was no secret to anybody that upon the death of King Viserys, things could turn ugly. It made your family wary of marrying you to Aemond.

Never before had he cursed his parentage so much. By then, Aemond had not seen you in years, but he knew you were the only choice for him. Kind and unafraid at ten, you could have only grown into a wonder.

And you did. The more he gazed at you, during that second encounter, the more he discovered. Unfortunately, Aemond had not been taught how to speak with maidens, much less one he wanted so badly.

Unused as his lips were to speaking kind words or flowery speech, he found himself in absolute terror of doing or saying the wrong thing. When he had wanted something in the past, he simply commanded it. Aemond was not used to wanting to keep a woman, but he guessed it took more effort than that.

His mother berated him all the way home. In his fear of his words upsetting, he had ended up not saying anything at all.

“You picked her yourself, Aemond, and barely showed excitement over it. The poor girl must think you hate her.”

And you probably did. Aemond could tell that you felt your encounters were awkward, but you slowly started getting used to him. What charmed him the most had been that never once you were afraid.

It ended up becoming a routine. Sort of a play date, but for adults. Set up by your hopeful parents, you would meet each other weekly and sit in silence. Each time, you would walk in with a pep in your step, wearing pretty gowns and smiling.

You would try to engage him in conversation, but he felt too self-conscious for it. It didn't phase you. You suffered through exactly two rounds of awkward conversation before starting to bring books. Sometimes, they were two, one for him and one for you. But his favorite times were when you brought only one and read aloud to him.

You had a very pleasing voice. You pronounced your words carefully, and in an even tone. And you would always ask for his opinions on the chapter when you finished. It made conversation much easier.

Any other woman would feel unhappy at having to go through such efforts. Astoundingly, not you. Overall, you seemed happy, and it puzzled Aemond to no end. Asking you had not proven very enlightening either.

“Of course I am happy.” And you had given him a smile so bright, he was convinced you were not actually your parent's daughter, but rather, the daughter of some old god of the light. “We are a good match. We like books. And you are a Prince, good with the sword, and very learned. Why wouldn't I be happy?”

Practical. No matter how romantic the books you read, or how magic the stories you enjoyed, your answer had been purely practical. You deserved more. A loud love story, like the ones in your books, and not a quiet life, spent in the shadows of a man who could barely pay her a compliment.

You gave a little spin, awed at the way your skirt moved and spread. It was the softest cloth you had ever felt, in cream and gold. Queen Alicent had gifted it to you along with many other pieces for your trousseau. You were to marry a Prince, and so, no expense was spared in updating your garments and linens.

What an honor it was, to have such a caring mother-in-law. Having witnessed the poor relationship between your mother and grandmother, you were thrilled over it. You had heard Queen Alicent had asked for you specifically, believing your temper to be a good match for her son. Since the announcement of the betrothal, she had been nothing but doting, if a bit overly worried about his treatment of you.

And Prince Aemond. You truly had no complaints. He was a tad too stoic for your liking, but he was never unkind to you. Despite the rumors about his fearsome character, you had found him to be very handsome.

Your first impression of Aemond was that he was tall. He was all long vertical lines in black and white. A study in contrasts, if you wish. One that, were you an artist, would have your hands itching for some coal. The only pop of color was his eye, a pale blue that shone on his handsome face.

He lacked the boyishly handsome features most men your age had. Instead, much like art, he was divisive. The eye patch that should lessen his appearance, only contributed to his uniqueness. There was something in the way he smiled, too. Something that hinted to something darker, dormant under the surface.

It was both attractive and intimidating. His stoic, aloof nature reminded you a lot of the leading men of the books you read. Your knowledge of that sort of man, through literature and observation, hinted to you that your betrothed must be more than met the eye.

What sort of passions and secrets must be hiding under his cool facade? You could not wait to find out. You imagined growing old with him, slowly learning his secrets and tells, just like your mother had done with your father.

The story of your parents' betrothal and marriage was one you knew well. As a child, you asked to hear it every night before bed. Your mother had been engaged to him being quite young, while he was already a man. He had been patient with her, but not very affectionate. Slowly, she had worn down his defenses, and gained his trust. It had taken years, with your father being a very gruff man. But they were the most loving couple you had ever met.

You yearned for something like that. A love that was built on mutual respect and trust, something that grew with you and filled your house with children and laughter. And with Aemond, you could not help but think that it would be possible. Wasn't he, too, a cold man who treated his bride kindly but never with affection?

You smiled at your reflection. You made a lovely bride if you said so yourself. Eyes full of hopes and expectations for your future marriage and the family that you would soon start, face glowing in happiness. One day, you said to yourself, as your Lord Father came to escort you towards the Sept, I will tell this story to my daughter.

Prince Aemond waited for you at the altar. It was a small gathering, your wedding. There were his siblings, mother, and grandfather and your parents. Your stomach tightened up in nervousness and excitement. You hoped he found you as beautiful as you found him.

When his eyes met yours, he gave you a small little smile. Secret, and barely there. You felt tears starting to well up in your eyes. You were so nervous, but so happy. This was the beginning of your new life, you could feel it.

You finally reached him. Aemond seemed startled at your tears, his hands coming to clasp yours almost in instinct. You gave him a bright smile. How kind, your betrothed was. He might have trouble expressing it, but for this, no words were needed.

You could see your nerves reflected on his face. Your hands squeezed harder. Aemond mimicked the gesture. There was a sense of understatement there that had previously been absent from your encounters. During the whole ceremony, neither of you let go or stopped looking at the other. As he leaned in to kiss you, you met him halfway.

This kiss had featured in your dreams for quite a while. As a young girl, when your lessons with your Septa got particularly boring, you daydreamed about the day you would marry. In your head, it was always perfect, and the kiss felt magical. You were a bit embarrassed to admit it, but once you met Aemond, your daydreams turned a bit less innocent.

The kiss fulfilled one of your fantasies, and left the other lacking. Aemond gently cradled your face in his hands and kissed you, very tenderly. His lips felt slightly dry, but he kept his motions gentle and sweet. It was a perfect as your childhood self had imagined, with the guests even clapping at the end. Unfortunately, it was just as innocent.

Considering that, and the fact that Aemond had demanded there not to be a bedding ceremony, you had correctly guessed your wedding night would be spent on your own.

The consummation of your marriage would be a challenge in itself. Aemond didn’t seem too keen on touching you with a ten-foot pole, and you weren’t sure of how one should bring up the topic.

Despite it, you were happy. Your only task was hanging on his arm at important feasts, which were few and far in between. His father’s declining health meant there was little to celebrate.

Your days often went without even seeing your husband, but you were never lonely. There were gardens to be walked, and books to be read. There were even tiny, blonde children, that you could chase around in the gardens and tickle. They were not yours, but Princess Helaena's and Prince Aegon's, yet they shared the striking silver hair your husband had. Looking at them, tiny sticky hands and still smelling like babies, you could imagine the future with your husband.

You could spend hours playing with them, or having tea with the Queen. You enjoyed trailing after her, she was always very kind. Frequently, you wondered how she and Aemond could be so alike yet so different.

The only thing that broke your routine were the times Aemond requested your presence.

“Milady.” Your handmaid said, stepping lightly inside your chambers. “The Prince has requested that you go to him.”

Instantly, dread and excitement pooled in your stomach. As a young lady, you were both fearful of the act and excited by it. Too often, you had heard it was something hurtful, but that it marked the change into womanhood. When Aemond called, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the night he made you a woman.

You rushed to take out a nightshirt from your trousseau. You had separated them into three categories. There were ones that you wore nightly, others that were slightly bigger that were saved for an eventual pregnancy, and the ones that were for Aemond. Those were the prettier ones that your Lady Mother had purchased to help you entice your husband.

It was always one of the latter that was chosen. You hated not being prepared, so you always made sure to look pretty and be clean. Just in case. It had not happened yet, but it didn't mean it never would.

Your handmaid aided you to put your robe on, followed by your slippers and a thick cloak. The Red Keep, despite being inhabited by dragons, was always cold. Your handmaid always walked you to his chambers, and this night was not the exception.

She left you at his door, after you were announced. Aemond himself opened his door, welcoming you inside.

You had gotten better at not staring at him. Despite his state of undress, in only sleep pants and his hair down for once, he was a delight for the eyes.

“My lady.” He kissed your cheek. The door closed after you. He aided you out of your cloak. “I was hoping you would read for me tonight.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show on your face. Aemond, as if sensing your mood, merely shoved a book in your hands. He didn’t even offer you a seat, but you took one on the bed anyway. By the weight of the book, you would be here a while.

“On a far away land, whose name I am unable to recall…” Aemond settled down on the bed next to you, eye closed. You didn’t understand why he did this sort of thing, but you weren’t bothered by it either. It was a small price to pay for all the luxuries you got to enjoy.

Despite ending up with a sore throat, it was fun too. He picked the books now, in a stark contrast to the days when you had been a couple courting. And as a man, Aemond had access to many more books than you had. You had recently started making your way through some chivalry tales, with a lot more blood than you were used to.

It was enough for you. Perhaps he was not very affectionate, but he clearly enjoyed your company. Why else would he keep summoning for something as menial as reading books?

You settled into a comfortable routine, grounded by the rhythms of court life. For a while, everything was extraordinarily normal. It was not until you were three months into marriage with the Prince that things started to get weird.

It was the ninth day of the tenth moon of the year, and the date felt slightly ominous. There was a restless energy in the air, something unusual. Perhaps, it was you. As of late, you had been feeling a bit blue. The lack of letters from your family and the twins starting their lessons had left you with more spare time than you thought you would have.

Deciding to go have a bath to try to shake that restless energy from you, you headed toward your rooms. When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It was strong and floral like, permeating the surrounding air. Your maids used sweeter smells for your rooms, on the Queen’s advice. They were the sort of smells that Aemond favored, and so, she had hoped surrounding you with them would endear you to him.

Then, you saw them. It was a big bouquet of violets, laying on top of your bed. Delighted, you ran towards them. You were unable to resist the urge to smell them, breathing in their scent. This close, you noticed they were slightly bluer, closer to dark blue than purple.

You toyed with their petals, wondering where they could have come from. Perhaps your husband? Aemond was not very inclined towards romantic gestures, but there was no other explanation for it.

You were nearly bursting in excitement to see him. The flowers had been such a kind gesture, you could not help but feel a wave of affection. But no matter how much you wished for it, you had seen nor hide nor hair of Aemond.

Denying it was stupid on his part. Aemond will not protest against it. But what else could have he done? He had panicked. It's not like he meant to do so.

His mother held a weekly meal with all her children, and had taken to including you. Having often berated him about his treatment of you, it was not surprising that she had decided to take you under her wing.

Aemond did feel a bit guilty over his own coldness, but he wasn't really sure how he ought to behave. Apart from his sister and uncle, he had not seen many loving pairs during his life, and anyone would agree that Rhaenyra and Daemon should never be held up as examples of anything.

You were lonely, as of late. The twins had gotten old enough for lessons, and so, they had limited time to play with you in the gardens. You were far enough from home that the letters took a few days to reach you, too. As a young woman, almost too young to be forced to leave everything you knew behind, isolation must have been taking its toll.

Let's not forget you were not only two years his junior, but also a woman. You were of a fragile disposition, with your constant daydreaming and romantic thoughts. Aemond ought to have been paying more attention, but his mind had been busy elsewhere.

His father looked more and more close to death with each day that passed. His grandisre was constantly plotting. Without needing to be a seer, Aemond knew that things were not looking good. There would not be a peaceful reign for Rhaenyra.

He had been so caught up on his worries and duties, that Aemond had forgotten to take care of his woman. Aemond had not summoned you to his rooms that week, too wired to project the calm you would need in the days that would come. You would not do well if a war broke out.

Aemond had been quite lacking on his duty of taking care of you. Pretty little flower that you were, he could almost see you starting to wilt. You spent more time indoors, and stopped your daily walks in the gardens.

Despite fairness being regarded as a desirable trait for a lady, Aemond did not like the way your skin had lost its sun kissed glow. It just didn't fit you. Blue was more of his thing than yours, gorgeous golden woman that you were.

Hence, the flowers. Choosing the violets was an impulse. Aemond liked the colors and the smell was tolerable yet distinctive. He would know immediately when you received them, being able to smell them on your hair and clothes.

Sweet natured as you were, you had thanked him for them. The fact that you had liked them and associated them with him had been enough to warm his heart. The fact that you had decided to do so during the dinner with his siblings, enough to stomp on it.

It had not been quiet enough.

“Aemond?” Aegon frowned. “Aemond gave you flowers?”

Knowing his brother as he did, Aemond knew he was struggling hard to contain his laughter. He had been the butt of the joke too many times to confirm or deny anything. He would rather not be embarrassed in front of you.

But in truth, the idea of being weak, of being mocked, was not one that scared him. He had been humiliated many times during his childhood. What bothered him more was the thought of his feelings for you being exposed in such a manner. He was not prone to sudden bursts of affection, or doing thoughtful things for those he loved.

Aemond preferred to love in silence. There was no need for grandiloquence, or big gestures. Marriage was a sacred thing, between husband and wife. It was not something that had to be shared loudly. His love was spoken quietly, in the same way he had been taught to.

His mother loved quietly. His grandsire did, too. Their eyes spoke when their lips did not, their love a discordance with the words out of their mouths. Aemond had grown like that, loved but never told, learning it as a secret language that tied them all.

The flowers, though. The flowers had been a betrayal of their code. Something they would not understand because while everyone in the Red Keep was fluent in the art of loving and not saying a word, you were not. You were a foreigner, with your tales of romance and princess from a far away land.

This had been Aemond, clumsily speaking your language. Shy about it, as many people were when speaking one that was not theirs for the first time. It was hard. It was private, and certainly not something he wanted to be outed in front of Aegon, who would not know love for his wife if it hit him in the face.

His expression must have been deadly because Aegon had started squirming on his seat like his pants were on fire. Your face had fallen, turning into a terrible, sad thing, that made something funny to his heart.

“It wasn’t you. Of course.” Your voice was softer still. Aemond continued eating his dinner without a word. Because really, what could he say? Anything that he did now would be mocked by Aegon.

The way your face had fallen, brows pinching together in a sad little frown, had haunted him later. He wanted to fix things, but was unsure how. You were not used to his brusque manner and speech. Aemond felt it might do more harm than good, if he were to speak with you. He might end up offending you more without noticing.

Besides, how did one even start to explain that he had denied tacitly to gifting you flowers fearing not being understood and mocked? He would sound like a fool.

Instead, he had penned you a note. Instead of apologizing, Aemond had hoped to butter you up with a few compliments. You must have realized it, then, because you had walked the whole day as if floating in a cloud.

Come the ninth day of the next moon, you had nearly forgotten all about the incident. You had thrown away the flowers before they even had a chance to wilt, and the note had been burned to a crisp in your fireplace. You had convinced yourself having a secret admirer was improper for a married woman, and refused to give it more thought.

It was a bit strange, that your husband was not angered by it. Yet, at the same time, you supposed he was thankful for your discretion over the entire affair. Aemond was very sensible and smart, so it was logical he wouldn't blame you.

Aemond had kept summoning you to his chambers, be either for you to read to him or just to sit in silence. Your happiness persisted. Until your breakfast’s tray was set on your vanity.

You noticed it when you were sipping at your tea. Groggily, and confused, you found a piece of paper under your napkin. On a neat handwriting, there was a quote from one of the poetry books you favored.

You gave a tiny gasp. Your hands clenched on the paper, your cheeks heating up. The penmanship was not one you recognized, but the words made your knees nearly buckle. No one had written you sonnets before.

Ninth day, you realize. Same as the flowers. If not your husband, then who? The idea of the secret admirer came back, stronger this time. The dates could not be a coincidence, this had to be the same person. Ninth day of the ninth moon, then ninth day of the ten.

You started over analyzing each interaction you had with men. When the knights opened the doors for you, your eyes would linger on theirs. When a Lord would greet you, you would try to remind if he had something to do with violets.

You found yourself daydreaming of this man. Would he be an older man? Would he be prone to smiling, or would he share the stoic nature of your Prince? How would his hands feel on your skin? All the daydreaming made you feel guilty, for fantasizing about a man who was not your husband. Yet, at the same time, you knew that you would not act on it. You loved Aemond too much.

It was flattering, to be wanted in such a manner. You liked the idea of it because it was different from the love you were used to. But you would rather not meet the admirer, knowing you would have to reject him. You enjoyed the attention, not the person it came from.

There was only one person in Westeros that you wished would lavish you with attention and love. And you knew already he was not your secret admirer.

Secretly, sometimes, you thought of telling Aemond. What would his reaction be? The thought made butterflies flutter in your stomach. Would he get jealous? Would he turn more affectionate? You imagined he would want to claim you in some way.

Alone, at night, you pictured his eye, narrowed in anger. Those hands, gripping harshly at your hips, leaving bruises. His body over yours, his lips on your throat, your chest, your stomach. Your hands would follow the path that the imaginary Aemond's hands would take, caressing and groping until they reached their destination. You would arouse and tease yourself until you reached your peak, a scream of his name dying in your throat.

The wondering does not last to meet a third moon. No, because King Viserys passes away and Prince Aegon is crowned King. The whole Red Keep is in a state of disarray, and you feel oddly fearful, watching the constant movement the family seems to be in.

Even Queen Alicent, usually so kind and calm, is on edge. She seems on the verge of a neurotic episode, pacing frantically around the halls, muttering to herself. You can't help but feel something bad is about to happen.

Your husband is in a terrible mood. He seems to have a constant headache, and so, you have taken to being even more kind to him. Some nights, he will summon you to his chambers. He keeps asking you to read to him, but you can tell his mind is far away.

You try grounding him, placing your hand on his thigh or shoulder every chance you get. If you were more confident, you would try something more bold. Aemond seems to enjoy your touch, but he doesn't encourage you to do it. His face remains unmoved, and he keeps telling you to keep reading.

His only tell is that he always reciprocates. If your hand is on his shoulder, his goes to your hip. If you touch his back, Aemond caresses your hair.

It leaves you feeling a bit out of balance. It's entirely innocent, as if you were two children discovering love. Yet at the same time, you can't help but feel like you are burning up in your need for him.

He starts requesting for you to stay the night with him. Aemond never touches you beyond holding you to him, body pressed close to yours in a long, vertical line. Sometimes, you wake up to his manhood prodding you from behind, but he promptly excuses himself out of the bed you share. It makes your thighs clench up in need.

It's unbearable. You feel like you are going insane, your center pulsating in need each time you are near him. The simplest touches can set you on fire. You decide to be bolder, soon. You can't keep this state of affairs.

Before you can explore this new side of your connection, Aemond is pulled away. A mission for the King, he explains. You stay behind, feeling restless. Not having been told what his mission involved, nor where he was going, you can't help but worry. Aemond had taken Vhagar, and that, at least, gives you a slight sense of safety. You were familiar enough with his mount to know she could be his fiercest protector if she felt someone was threatening.

You spend your hours praying for his safe return, along with the Queen. While not part of the Small Council formed around Aegon, but you imagine quite well what they discussed. Alicent is as scared as you are.

You go to bed late that night. With Aemond away, you can't sleep, already used to his body pressing against yours. You had hoped exhaustion would help you overcome that problem.

It's even later when heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door rise you. In the dark, you can barely make out a silhouette. A tall man, holding a dagger.

You scream. The man grabs you roughly by the shoulders and pushes you to lay down on the bed. This close, you can feel that his clothes are strangely humid, as if dried in a rush. You had not considered it before, but the letters and violets do not seem so romantic anymore. Instead, they scare you. You find yourself faced with the possibility that this man might this be your secret admirer. Has he felt encouraged by your happiness? Is he dangerous?

There is a heavy candleholder on your nightstand. You reach for it in the dark, and swing at his head. The man yelps. You start to struggle against him. His tone is familiar to you.

“Seven Hells.” He curses. It's then that it hits you. This is Aemond. Aemond is back. You don't get to rejoice on it, or pull him to you, though. He keeps speaking, in a confused tone. “You… I… I made a mistake.”

Aemond gets up and away from you. His clothes still reek of humidity and sadness. You remain there, laying on your stomach, as you feel an uncontrollable urge to cry. There is something inside you that has been rattled until it broke, something that tells you that this Aemond is not your Aemond.

The next morning, you find out he has killed Lucerys Velaryon. Instead of going to his mother or grandsire, he had come straight for you. Aemond had been trying to forget on your skin, lose himself in you.

When you see the violets covering every inch of your room, bouquets over your bed, on your vanity and even the windowsill, your eyes sting. It's bittersweet to realize that, now that you look at them, their color is surprisingly close to a sapphire.

Dividers by yours truly. Por supuesto que la canción era Ramito de Violetas. Grande Zalo Reyes.

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squishycheekanon · 2 months

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‘If I had only seen how you smile when you blush’

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mllemarianne · 1 year

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Striving

Aemond Targaryen x F!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are summoned to King’s Landing to discuss the future of the Kingdom, Aemond is confronted by the ghosts of his past. Unfortunately, with grudges like these, it only takes a moment for one’s life to be turned upside down. It is why, on that frightful night, the people of the court gather in the throne room to hear the sad news. After all, any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day… but whose life is it?

Word count: 18k

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut (5k words of it!) Emotional hurt/comfort. Mentions of grief, neglect, absent parent. English is my second language.

N/A: Buckle up guys, you are in for a ride. This is the third and last part of their story. This part is a little different. A lot of Aemond POV (including the smut!) Aemond has come a long way, yet he still holds grudges... This time, it really feels like the ending Aemond deserves.

AO3 | Masterlist

AEMOND

Aemond stood on top of the castle walls, trembling in his icy drenched clothes. His wavy silvery hair flew in the faint wind, a sharp contrast with the storm that broke over the whole east coast of Westeros in the past few hours. The sun pierced the clouds and engulfed the region in a warm orange light, another sharp contrast with the dire predicament Aemond found himself in.

For a second time, he had to fly through atrocious weather on Vaghar above the Stormlands. The first time was indisputably unpleasant. It happened a few moons back. Seven to be precise. The pouring rain forced him to take shelter for a night in a grubbly inn. A night where he shared a bed with you. A night that changed everything.

This time, however… it had been truly horrific. For various and obvious reasons.

A few hours had gone by since he came back to the Red Keep. He could not spare a single minute to change, but at that point, he did not care. Too much had happened in such a short period of time and damp clothes were the least of his concerns.

Quietly crying, he glanced down at the people of the court walking through the yard to enter the castle. He observed your brother, followed by other knights, rushing to the entrance, shoving men and women aside. Mayhaps it was time for Aemond to get back inside too. Afterall, the announcement would be made in the throne room any minute.

Walking slowly, Aemond joined his brothers and sister on the dais where stood the Iron Throne. He instinctively wedged himself between the Queen and Helaena, seeking comfort. Dangling somewhere between numbness and sorrow, he dropped his head so no one could see his eye glisten in the dim lighting.

He did not have his eyepatch on and could not bear the stares. Not this time.

Helaena hooked her arm through his. He appreciated the gesture since he knew of her disinclination towards physical contact. She had tears in her eyes too, her lips pressed in a thin line. He sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the Throne. Jacaerys stood with his younger brother Joffrey, Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena and Prince Daemon. While some quietly exchanged words with each other, they all had something in common.

They had their eyes locked on Aemond.

They knew.

Aemond glanced down at his feet again, his expression tortured, avoiding any and all of their stares. Prince Daemon, especially, appeared on the verge of slaughtering half the people in the room until Aemond’s older sister, Rhaenyra, came to stand before him and took his hand in hers. She did not look at Aemond for one second.

Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room, all impatiently waiting to hear the news that had them cutting short their dinner. They knew one thing for sure. Three people were missing from the royal dais.

Maester Mellos asked both sides of the family for permission to proceed, then walked to the front and cleared his throat. “Even though it is almost the hour of the bat, we are gathered here in great sadness, for any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day.”

Aemond was half listening. The old maester’s words almost felt like distant noises. He looked around the room now dark and gloomy since the sun had set. He noted your father and brother’s absence. They probably rushed to your chambers, to see for themselves…

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few hours was certainly… an understatement.

5 days before

AEMOND

"My lady, my lord. A raven from King’s Landing," a voice resounded through your chamber’s door.

You sighed, shoving your face in your pillow. Aemond groaned, his nose still buried in your sweaty neck. His front was pressed to your back, the pad of his fingers softly grazed the silky skin of your thighs, soothing the flesh he held onto so tightly until then.

It was definitely too early for ravens.

“No, stay,” he murmured in your ear when he felt you moved slightly. He wrapped his arms around your bust and belly, one of his hands cupping your tender breast. You mewled when he left a trail of kisses on your neck, setting your nerves ablaze again. You were basking in the afterglow of your joining still. He literally spent the last hour worshiping you thoroughly.

He only wished to breathe in your blissful scent, to savor your heavenly taste and to revel in the singular feeling of your warm velvety walls pulsing around his cock for a few moments more. You had yet to catch your breath, shivering all over whenever he dared move an inch.

Nuzzling the soft skin behind your ear, the corners of his mouth curled in a blissful smile. He liked the scent of you in the morning. Your very skin and hair smelled of honeysuckle and lush gardens— oils and flowers you bathed in every night to soothe the pains of carrying his heir these past seven moons. However, in the morning, usually after you shared your body with him, you smelled of love too. It was the only way Aemond could describe it.

When sweat veiled your skin after he had your heart beating fast. When you soaked his thighs, riding him into oblivion. When your hair stuck to your forehead while he trapped you under him and pounded into you mercilessly. When tears dried on your cheeks after he went on and on, faster and deeper, without relenting.

Aemond could not get enough. You were glowing with love and life. Mayhaps it was because of the little dragon growing in your womb, but it appeared you could not get enough of him as well. So he obliged you. Vigorously. Granted he did not need much convincing, even when the occasion did not call for it.

He smirked as he recalled you dismissing the lords during a council meeting just so he could fuck you senseless on the large wooden table. It was the least he could do since you were the one carrying his child.

That morning was no exception. The sun was high in the sky, which meant you were still sharing a bed when you should have been sharing duties of Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. That being said, leaving your side was not amongst Aemond’s utmost priorities. He grumbled his displeasure loudly as Maester Sylvan knocked once more.

"It is an urgent matter, I’m afraid," he stated, the chains he wore clanking against the wooden door of your chambers.

READER

You chuckled, while Aemond fumed. Since you were lady and lord of Harrenhal, you noticed how every raven was "a matter of most urgency". Although, you could understand why the poor Maester insisted.

You recalled how one day, Aemond had enough of the trivial messages delivered at dawn.

The news came that Lord Luthor Tyrell— your “betrothed for a day”— got engaged to a daughter of House Baratheon of Storm’s End. Aemond all but crumpled the message and threw it in the fire angrily, asking the Maester why the news was deemed urgent.

You had shared with Aemond the last words you exchanged with Luthor, at your engagement feast of all places. Except you did not mention the “Enjoy being a cripple’s whore” comment, fearing Aemond would have left to go burn the entirety of Highgarden with Vaghar and possibly start a war with The Reach. Fearing for his life as well, the Maester excused himself and ran before you could say anything.

Aemond rubbed his marred cheek, looking desperate.

“Maester Sylvan insists on relaying any message immediately because the last time he didn’t, my mother gave birth to me and died before my father could reach her,” you revealed with a gentle tone.

A pink hue tinted Aemond’s cheeks. His shoulder sagged briefly before he straightened, crossed his arms behind his back and looked at you with contrition. He apologized sincerely.

“It’s alright, you did not know. Maester Sylvan all but raised me alongside my father until I was ten of age and moved to King’s Landing,” you explained, remembering how he used to secretly nick raspberry tarts from the kitchens to goad you into learning more houses of the realm as well as their sigils. “Besides, you don’t see me losing my mind at the mere mention of Lord Boros’ daughters. Weren’t you supposed to marry Ellyn?”

You heard a faint “hm” as an answer.

After that, Aemond never complained about the early morning ravens again. You were used to his temper anyway. It was improving, at least.

Lost in your thoughts of urgent messages and raspberry tarts, you startled as Aemond kissed your shoulder and detangled himself from you. You winced as he left both your body and your bed, a cold draft hitting your behind as he lifted the sheets. He dressed quickly, opened the door and thanked the Maester for his diligence. He ordered the maids to draw you a bath and came back to you, half sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What does it say?” you asked his face all but drained of its colors.

“To Lady Y/n Strong and her husband Prince Aemond Targaryen, Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. You are hereby summoned to King’s Landing in order to celebrate the union of two great houses. Lady Helaena Targaryen, second daughter of King Viserys I, and Jacaerys Targaryen, crowned Prince and first born son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and the late Lord Lenor Velaryon, are to be wed. The King wishes for both families to meet in three days time to discuss the future of the Kingdom,” read aloud Aemond. “It is signed with your father the Hand’s seal.”

“Well… this is indeed an urgent matter. We have to make plans now,” you noted, already thinking of the burden of flying in your condition. Then you noticed Aemond was silent, reading the message over and over again. “Speak, but I know what you are thinking.”

“My father wants my sister to wed Jacaerys,” he groused, frowning horribly.

You took his hand and traced figures on his calloused palm. “…It was a matter of time. You saw them dance together at our wedding… You have to admit they are well matched… mayhaps it is a first step towards reconciliation.”

“We are past reconciliation,” he snarled, standing again to throw the message in the fire. “Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys made my life a living hell. For years. And my father never said a thing. Aegon is the only one who apologized since. Vaghar scares him to death,” he specified, looking at the scroll slowly turning into ashes. “But my nephews never showed a single glimpse of remorse. Not for the laughs, not for the fucking pig with wings and certainly not for ganging up on me and taking my eye. They probably still think it was justice well served for ‘stealing’ Vaghar.”

You did not push him any further. Even though almost ten years had passed, it still pained him. However nice it had been at Harrenhal, you knew resentment lurked under his skin irregardless. You felt it every time the crowned Princes or his father were mentioned. Aemond was all about strength, will and power. On the outside, at least. You knew him as a passionate and caring man too. He was complex, hiding a very vulnerable side still hurting from years of mistreatment and neglect.

In spite of it all, not once have you seen him actually cry. Even when you confessed your love in each other's arms during your adventures in the Stormlands. Even when he realized you had dragged him to a Valyrian wedding. His eye was bright with unshed tears but his determination to look strong always won in the end. When you were younger, whenever he spent time with his nephews, he always came back to you looking pitiful but never tearful. That is when you began going to the library every night with him. You wanted Aemond to know that he had a friend in the Red Keep. The rest was history.

Aemond buttoned his tunic, put on his boots and hung his sword to his leather belt before he left to sort out your departure. The guards had to leave on foot now while you would join them in two days time on dragonback. You got up as well, both hands on your round belly, and went to bathe in floral oils and herbs like Maester Sylvan recommended. It did soothe the pain in your lower back and the nausea that burdened you lately. Sitting in your bath and closing your eyes, you realized how things changed during the last seven moons since you wed and moved to Harrenhal.

These days, you took baths and enjoyed leisurely walks in the meadows— that is, when your lower back allowed you— instead of training in the morning. When Maester Sylvan confirmed you were with child, Aemond all but denied you entry to your training yard. You were outraged.

He was anything but a fool. He waited for you at the entrance the next morning to make sure you turned right back around. He outright refused to even unsheathe his sword in your presence. Unsurprisingly, not a single knight dared offer sparring with their expecting lady either. Especially when your Prince was there to stare them down. You ultimately yielded, agreeing to simply observe— ogle really— Aemond in his training gear.

Your husband started to embrace his appearance too. For so long it hurt to see the frightened look on people’s faces… even if he drew satisfaction from scaring away the knights who got too friendly with you or the lords who wanted a dance during feasts.

Yet after a while, he started showing up to the training yard without his eyepatch. Then at the council meetings. In the end, he even attended dinners and feasts without it. The people grew accustomed to his beautiful glowing sapphire eye. He even seemed to forget about the gem, only to be reminded of it when he spied blue specks of lights dancing on someone’s face when the sun was out.

His appetite also changed. You thought he was insatiable before, but it was nothing compared to the beast he had become since you had your own little kingdom. Once upon a time, you had a little game where he kissed you when no one was looking. The game somehow changed a little since. Harrenhal was full of dark corners and secret passages. Lately, you found yourself, more often than not, pressed up against a stone wall or lying down on a window seat with your Prince driving in and out of you, swallowing your cries with a kiss.

“I enjoy the sight of you walking around with me dripping down your thighs,” he shamelessly confided in you once, letting down the hem of your dress after he ruined you in an alcove before a council meeting. His filthy words got to you every time.

It was no secret that he thrived now that he got out of King’s Landing. At Harrenhal, he took part in the running of the Riverlands as head of the council, by your side. He oversaw the army training and battle strategy. He taught swordplay and hand-to-hand combat to new recruits. He had access to a thousand new books thanks to your ancestors' love for academics. And since you were eager to learn, Aemond taught you High Valyrian too.

It was like after years of aimlessly roaming the halls of the Red Keep, he found a purpose. Seeing him like that, content and untroubled, filled you with so much joy you thought you would burst.

That is why going back to King’s Landing made you so nervous.

2 days before

READER

Aemond had a special saddle made for Vaghar so you could ride comfortably in front of him without squashing the child. It had so many ropes and chains that you scoffed as he gently tied you to it.

“There may be bad weather. I’m not watching you fall off this dragon,” he justified patiently.

Unfortunately, the flight gave you a crippling nausea. When you landed on the beach of King’s Landing two hours later, you were white as a sheet and wished for nothing but rest. He fussed when you climbed down the net on Vaghar’s side as well.

Aemond took great care of you, and you were grateful by all means, but sometimes you liked to remind him you were not a delicate flower and if not for your belly, you could knock him to the ground in a training yard. Each time he smirked and kissed your cheek as an apology. He knew you had a temper too.

You climbed all the steps to the Red Keep and met Queen Alicent and Princess Halaena at the top. The Queen went to her son immediately, wrapping her arms around him in a warm loving hug. She embraced you as well, overjoyed. “Blessed be The Mother, a child so soon,” she teared up, pressing a hand on the side of your belly. “Come. The King will join us shortly. The rest of the family is in the great hall.”

Aemond stayed with his mother, but it was not by choice. She held onto him so tight he glanced at you for help at one point. But who were you to deny a Queen the presence of her own beloved son?

You walked alongside Halaena who seemed positively radiant. You knew she was happy about her betrothal. You saw how Jacaerys asked her for a dance at your wedding and how they treasured each other’s company for the rest of the night.

You kept that information to yourself, but a part of you felt like you should reach out to Aemond’s nephews… well, your nephews too it seemed. You hoped it was finally the beginning of a new era, where both families put their differences aside and started working together toward a better future for the Kingdom. Except you knew without a doubt that the heart of the problem resided in one dreadful night in Driftmark when a child was armed and no justice was served.

The whole royal family was indeed in the great hall, discussing with the people of the court. You stared back at your Prince immediately.

He tensed before the crowd. He reached into his pocket and fished out his eyepatch. You did not even know he took it with him. It saddened you when he put it on quickly before he joined his brothers, Prince Aegon and Prince Daeron.

You did not see any familiar faces yet. Your father was with the King of course, and your brother would not mingle with the royal family in these circumstances anyway. So you followed Princess Helaena who joined Prince Jacaerys, and his siblings.

“Your graces, ladies.” You bowed to the Princes and greeted Lady Baela and Rhaena. They greeted you back, but it was Prince Lucerys who stepped forward and spoke directly to you.

“We know you know. Sir Harwin told us,” he hushed.

On the day of your wedding, you questioned your brother once and for all and demanded the truth. He confirmed he was indeed the father of the three crowned Princes. He apparently had an arrangement with Prince Daemon who did not resent him nor Princess Rhaenera, but wished to keep Harwin at Dragonstone. For the Princes’ sakes.

That is when Harwin abdicated his title of heir of Harrenhal. It was his wedding present to you and Aemond, in a way. The biggest castle in Westeros— even if some of it melted a bit long ago—, vast green lands with rivers and lakes, a large army… It still felt surreal to have all that to yourself. You were a second born as well, and second born usually get nothing. Also, you were a woman. Your father never treated you any differently for it, but he warned you that it would not be the case with every other lord you would cross paths with.

“Oh, I see. Of course he would,” you answered hesitantly. “As a matter of fact… I wish we could know each other better, your grace.”

“You are part of the family now. In more than one way,” he said in hushed tones, referring to you technically being their aunt. “You can drop the formal titles.”

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones you dared address without a title. Never had you dreamed of doing the same with the crowned Princes. “Old habits die hard” but you would try.

“I’m obviously in no condition to train with you in the morning, but perhaps you would join me for a tea later today? All of you. Baela and Rhaena too.”

“Will he be there?” bluntly inquired Baela before her sister Rhaena subtly elbowed her in the ribs. Knowing who “he” was, you glanced at the other side of the hall to find Aemond already looking at you with fire in his eye. You realized you were still standing quite close to Princ— to Lucerys. You took two steps back hastily and addressed Baela’s question with the truth.

“I don’t believe he would join us, no. I wish we could discuss this as well. It is my desire that we find a way to… ease tensions at the very least.”

“Say that to him. We never had a problem with you. He is the one staring like he is about to murder us,” muttered Baela. You did not need to turn your head around to know exactly what Aemond looked like that very moment. Surprisingly, it was Rhaena who stepped forward and spoke to you.

“I’ve come to peace with my mother’s dragon being claimed by Aemond a long time ago. I have Morning now and I love her so very dearly. We could indeed put all this behind us,” she spoke serenely. “I’m ready… but is he?”

“It’s me he resents, not you,” Lucerys intervened. “I’m not ashamed I defended my brother during the brawl, but I regret hurting Aemond. Truly.”

You knew it would not be that simple. Not when Aemond just came back to this wretched place, as he often called it. Not as he was forced to put his eyepatch back on. And obviously not while he shared that space with the very people who changed his life in one night with one knife.

Aemond’s whole being was tainted by the events occurring on that dreadful night he claimed Vaghar. Even if Lucerys came forward and begged for forgiveness, you were not sure Aemond would ever feel inclined to offer it to him.

You discussed some more, mainly about how life was respectively at Harrenhal, Dragonstone and Driftmark. When it was announced that the King would join you in the Throne room, you went back to Aemond who wasted no time asking what in the seven hells you were doing. He asked calmly but firmly, reaching for your hand.

“I’m establishing a peaceful relationship with the crowned Princes now that I am part of this family and Lady of Harrenhal,” you affirmed, lacing your fingers to his.

“They don’t deserve this kindness,” he stated, glaring at them on the other side of the hall.

“They are my family as well,” you replied, lowering your voice. “I’m not doing this to vex you, Aemond. And for all we know, mayhaps our child will marry one of theirs one day. I’m merely saying that… We want to build a better future. If not for us then for our child. It does not mean I forget.”

Aemond frowned at your answer as his father walked through the doors. King Viserys seemed overwhelmed as he welcomed each member of his family. Clutching at his chest, he gazed upon all the familiar faces reunited in one room for the first time in a long time. When he got to you, he rejoiced as he saw your round belly. “Lady Strong, what a wonderful sight!”

“Your grace,” you bowed slightly, as gracefully as your lower back pain allowed you. Aemond instantly circled an arm around your waist to support you.

“Father.” Aemond respectfully bowed his head as well.

“My son, I’m so very glad to see you,” beamed the King, a sincere smile on his lips. A smile that Aemond, unfortunately, did not return. The King went on to greet his youngest son Daeron.

You felt bad for your Prince. You knew what he thought of his father. Neglectful. Absent. Unjust. Aemond rarely spoke of his childhood for many reasons. The King being one. You met him when you were both ten of age, and for the ten years that had gone by, you barely recalled a handful of times you saw them interacting. They did not have the kind of warm relationship you had with your father, the Hand.

In all sincerity, you felt bad for the King as well. He seemed genuinely happy to see Aemond again. The Queen followed him around closely, holding his arm throughout the very short moment he was actually in the hall.

Aemond long debated whether to accompany you to tea with his nephews and nieces or not. He did not want to attend but leaving your side bothered him as well. In the end, he joined his mother and siblings instead.

Although, Vaghar flew above your heads at one point during your meal in the gardens. Her roar had your table and teacups shake, spilling tea in the saucers. Servants grabbed plates of pastries so they would not fall on the ground. You were not impressed Aemond wanted to taunt them while you actively fought for peace.

“I thought he was handsome,” Rhaena admitted, slightly blushing.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucerys half spit his tea all over his lemon cakes, surprised at his bethroted’s words.

“Luthor Tyrell is a pompous arsehole of inordinate proportions,” you asserted unashamedly.

“I like her,” Baela smirked, turning to her sister Rhaena.

Jacaerys then cleared his throat and addressed the most delicate and obvious of all subjects. “How is Prince Aemond? Obviously, he did not want to join us. We understand why, but—”

“I’m surprised he even let you come here alone,” cut Baela under her breath.

“Baela!” admonished Rhaena. “It is unbecoming.”

“Don’t fret,” you reassured, raising a hand in reassurance. “You are right, Jacaerys. Aemond did not want to have tea with us today, especially since he did not know that I was planning on it for a while. Of course I wish for both families to mend their bridges. I will not speak for him however. He can do it in his own time.” You turned to Baela. “Lastly, if you are under the impression that Aemond Targaryen controls my every move, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Hm.”

You froze in place as you recognized the sound all too well. No one looked at you anymore. “He is right behind me, isn’t he?” you asked in a low voice. Jacaerys nodded as you felt Aemond’s hand on your shoulder. His long fingers brushed against your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear. “I was fetching you for a walk, my love.”

“Oh,” you managed to articulate, your whole being distracted by his hand skimming the nape of your neck and plunging down the back in your dress. “Yes, of course.”

“Nephews. Nieces,” he added, acknowledging their presence at last. They nodded politely in return. You thanked them for their company and asserted your wish to do it again soon.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Aemond inquired politely when you were at a safe distance, extending his arm so you could grab it.

You chose your words carefully since he was visibly grumpy.

“Well, if you wish to remain in my good graces, you will stop flying Vaghar above our heads when we’re having tea in the garden. You almost had our entire tray of apricot tarts fall in the dirt. Wars have been waged for less.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. He was proud of his little stunt. You were not surprised. Unimpressed, but not surprised.

He stayed silent, so you continued tentatively. “They changed, Aemond. And for what it’s worth, Lucerys regrets what he did and I truly believe he would like to formally apologize. Baela is feisty and protective of her sister, but Rhaena is at peace with what happened.”

“Apologies do not magically absolve you of anything,” he retorted, pulling on your arm so you left the marked path and went through a line of shrubs. “The other person may never forgive you and you have to live with that possibility. I will never forgive them, and they have to accept that.”

Your walk was short since you experienced small contractions. Maester Sylvan told you it was normal to have some from time to time during the three last moons. The womb was preparing itself for the birth.

You went to your favorite secret spot far away in the gardens to lay down in the tall grass under your favorite willow tree. You reached for his eyepatch and took it off.

“Sȳrkta,” you whispered. Better.

You kissed his marred cheek and he smiled. Your High Valyrian was improving, but you understood it more than you spoke it. You held him tight in your arms and watched the clouds as he mindlessly brushed your long hair with his fingers. When your belly moved on his own, he pressed his hand to it to feel the little dragon inside.

Thoroughly exhausted, you slowly drifted off, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby coast…

“Nyke jaelagon īlin rȳ lenton,” you heard before you fell asleep in his arms. I wish we were at home.

AEMOND

Came the moment you left Harrenhal for. Aemond wished you could attend the council meeting but you were indisposed. When you woke up from your nap in the gardens, you were a little cranky. The pain in your back was killing you and the nausea was horrible since you got to King’s Landing.

The city stank, you were too hot, your dresses were too tight and just looking at the multiple flights of stairs gave you hives. He knew everything bothered you ten times more because of your condition, so your maid Maeva escorted you back to your chambers to bathe while Aemond went alone to the council chamber.

He dreaded that moment ever since he got the raven two days before. You were not fit to travel for extended periods of time on dragonback. You had much to do at Harrenhal like supervising the rebuild of the east tower for your new chambers and nursery. He had new recruits to train too.

As he sat at the large table, Aemond could not imagine why the entire family had to gather in King’s Landing for. He looked at his father who seemed happy to be in the presence of his entire family, for once. Strangely, there was something he could not decipher in his eyes. Then again, Aemond did not know him enough to guess what it could possibly be.

“Shouldn’t we be addressing the Baratheons of Storm’s End and the Tyrells of Highgarden forming an alliance through marriage behind our backs?” suggested Daemon who sat nonchalantly at the other end of the table.

“Yes, brother. But for now, I wish to speak of the line of succession,” dismissed the King in one breath.

“What about it?” queried Daemon suspiciously, a warning somewhere in his tone. He exchanged a quick glance with Rheanyra.

It did seem positively pointless. Jacaerys was to marry Helaena and he would sit on the Iron Throne eventually, end of the story. Nothing more could be said on the subject.

“Rhaenyra, you are heir to the iron throne, with Daemon at your side. Nothing will ever change that. I purely wish to make sure no one is overlooked,” reassured the King, clearing his throat.

Well. That was unexpected.

“Before the moon turns, Jacaerys and Haelena will be man and wife. They will be heir to the iron throne after you, Rhaenyra. Which means Dragonstone will be vacant. Joffrey, and his betrothed Baela, shall be heir to Dragonstone. Lucerys, as the second oldest son of the late Leanor Valaryon, will be heir to Driftmark with his betrothed, Lady Rhaena.”

His nephews and nieces looked ecstatic, understandably. Aemond fought not to roll his eye.

“My firstborn son, Aegon, shall inherit the Hightower family seat in Oldtown with its lands, army and fleet,” the King announced before he turned to Aemond. “My second born son Aemond is settled at Harrenhal already, thanks to his union with Lady Y/n Strong, heir to its castle, lands and army. Then comes young Daeron who is betrothed to Lady Amyra of Winterfell…”

Aemond’s eye narrowed in confusion. The King went on speaking of the lands he gifted to his grandchildren Viserys, Aegon and even the unborn child in Rhaenyra’s womb… until Aemond was not listening anymore.

Nothing?

His father bestowed islands, gold, castles and lands on every child and grandchild… except him?

Anger simmered under his skin. He tried to keep his temper under control but he snapped when members of the council applauded at the end of his father’s speech.

“What happened to you making sure nobody was overlooked?” he spoke fiercely. “Forgive me father, but I find it hard to sit back and applaud when even unborn children get lands when I get absolutely nothing.”

“You are Lord of Harrenhal, nephew,” drawled Daemon. “Men would kill to get this small kingdom, sit down.”

“Daemon, please.” Viserys lifted a hand to silence his brother. “Now is not the time to bicker.”

Aemond knew he was most fortunate, having Harrenhal and the whole of the Riverlands in his grasp. Ever since he was born, he was destined to be a war commander at most, but got lucky when his wife became heir. Hells, he did not give a single fuck about Dragonstone or the Hightower family seat. He did not wish for a second castle. He just wanted… something. Was he not worthy of anything? His father showered everyone else in gifts and gold while he was ignored. Again.

He was always the overlooked son. The second son. The crippled second son. Suddenly his scar itched awfully. His hands stimmed on the handle of his knife as he fought the urge to rip his eyepatch off.

The King stood up slowly and a heavy silence fell upon the room. Aemond saw his mother’s nervous stare in the corner of his eye as he did not sit back down while his father spoke.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around this table. The faces most dear to me in all the world. You’ve grown so distant from each other in years past. The crown cannot stand strong while the House of the Dragon remains divided,” condemned the King in a ragged breath. “I merely gave to those who needed receiving… So tonight, I ask for one thing… as your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire… I asked that you set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.”

Still standing, Aemond looked his father in the eyes and said the words he waited all his life to say out loud.

“You never were a father to me.”

The silence was even louder. You could hear the fire crackling in the hearth, but it was nothing on the fire that burned in Aemond’s chest— the fire of a thousand dragons. His father looked down, his hand trembling on the pommel of his sword.

“I taught myself High Valyrian,” Aemond continued, his stare hard and unfaltering. “I learned how to ride a dragon alone. I trained, studied and explored the realm all on my own. I lost an eye and not even then did you carry some sort of justice. Your own son was attacked and you did not care in the least. My wife was more of a family member than you ever were. So forgive me if I don’t stand back and watch when, again, I’m reminded that I’m nothing to you.”

“Aemond!” he heard his mother cry out as he stormed off. “Aemond, come back!”

He briefly glanced back when he turned left in the hallway. He saw his father crashing in his seat, shattered at his son’s words, a hand over his heart, his mother rushing to his side.

Walking fast, Aemond first wanted to get back to you and to lose himself in your embrace until you made him see stars…

But you were probably still bathing. Besides, he could not bear to see the worry in your eyes as you learned that he, once again, lost his temper. In front of the whole family this time.

He grabbed a hood in his old chambers, went straight to the beach and flew on Vaghar in the night sky like he did that first time he claimed the beast. He wanted to leave the castle. He needed to think. He needed clarity.

READER

When you thought Aemond came back to your chambers that evening, you were surprised to see your father slipping through your door instead. He explained what happened at the council meeting and how Aemond just… left.

He climbed on Vaghar and left.

You knew he would never abandon you. He was probably blowing off some steam and, of course, he did not want to burden you. It saddened you to see Aemond losing all the assurance and serenity he found at Harrenhal these past few months. Now resentment and frustration consumed him again. You felt the heartbreak even down in your belly and pressed your hands on either side.

Your father’s company soothed you for a while. With Aemond’s absence, you came to realize that… you have no one except for him. Even your brother was busy with his duties. You tried to ease tensions with the Princes, but they were never close to you— namely because of how close to Aemond you always were.

Helaena came later to comfort you. She brought with her a large book depicting the many insects of Westeros and one of the castle’s cats. “They both bring me comfort when I’m alone,” she prompted as you petted the little purring creature.

Hours passed. The room was dark and the fire had died long before when the sound of your door jolted you awake. You saw a glimpse of long silvery white hair and immediately tried to stand up.

"No, don’t get up. Don’t move," Aemond whispered hurriedly.

He only had his white shift and leather trousers on. He carried the rest in his arm and threw it all on the ground beside your bed. His hair was damp and wavy.

"Are you alright?" you asked in a husky voice.

"Yes,” he answered, taking off the rest of his clothing. He flipped his hair and his delicious sandalwood and amber scent hit you at once. He bathed before he came to your chambers. And now he was gloriously naked before you, one of his hands reaching for your hip. “I just need you right now… Is that alright?"

“Always. Come here.” You lifted the sheets behind you. He climbed in your bed and he wrapped his arms around your body, one circling your neck, immediately plunging his hand in your collar to grab your plump breasts. The other rumpled the hem of your nightgown until he bared your bottom half to him. He caressed your swollen belly while he peppered your neck with kisses. His breath was ragged. As if he was desperate.

“You are so good to me, Y/n…” he purred in your ear, making your whole body shiver.

AEMOND

For a second, Aemond forgot everything. He forgot about his father who all but confirmed he could not care less about him. He forgot about the snarks and gossip following him literally anywhere in the Red Keep. He forgot about the damn eyepatch itching his skin again, having him on edge all day. And he forgot about his nephews and nieces who were rewarded and all looked at him like he was the problem.

At least he had you.

He had you and he did not need anybody else. Having you in his arms was worth a thousand castles, gold coins and books combined. After the evening he had, he only wished to be with the only person who treated him right, who looked at him without flinching, who loved him for all that he was.

You arched your back against him when he eagerly caressed every inch of your soft skin. Especially your swollen belly.

Only three moons after your wedding did he notice a small bump appearing. If Maester Sylvan was right, it was entirely possible that the child was conceived before the wedding. Your father had moon tea delivered nightly to your chambers but you never cared to take it. Aemond never would have pressured you, but you were eager to start a family.

You moaned softly when his fingers delicately parted your legs and cupped your cunt, looking for that sensitive little bud. He hovered, skimmed and teased without putting any real pressure with the hands you loved so much. He knew exactly how to unravel you, even when you were half awake. He grinded his hard cock against you, the head brushing the wetness between your thighs.

“You can talk to me, my love,” you breathed, but Aemond did not feel like it.

“For now, I just want to feel you…” he confessed, biting your ear.

You yelped.

“…I want to fuck you until you are clenching down on my cock so hard that I can’t remember my name,” he growled, the tip of his manhood slowly brushing against your center. "Can you do that for me, love?”

“Ye- yes,” you stuttered. He smirked, liking the power his filthy words had on you.

Eyes closed, still sleepy, you lazily moved your hips as his fingers dipped in and out of you now. You sighed and he kissed the crook of your neck. He kept the pace until your breaths were short and you writhed against him. You quickly soaked his hand and mewled in your pillow as he kept circling your clit with his thumb.

You filled his hands so deliciously lately. Not only had your belly swollen, your breasts were definitely more full, nearly spilling from your dresses every time you took a breath. He found himself side-eyeing them constantly, trying to be subtle about it. Your behind felt more round too, your thighs soft and squishy. Aemond could barely keep his hands to himself, even now, one of them caressed your full breasts while the other expertly rubbed the most intimate part of you.

You were glowing, brimming with life, even in that stinking nightmare of a city. He could always count on you to turn on the light even in the darkest of places. You were a beacon calling to him, his port in a storm, his moon in a starless sky.

He pressed his front to your back even more, pulled one of your legs up and pressed his cock to your core. Your hand reached back for his neck, desperate to touch him.

Usually, he would have you come on his hand at least once before he buried himself into you, but not tonight. He needed you. And he knew you could take it.

Inch by inch, he entered you and you exhaled loudly. With a few strong thrust, he seated himself fully and grunted in your neck, inhaling your sweet honeysuckle and flowers scent.

Warm. So warm. And tight.

His strong hand held you in place by your hip while you whined at the stretch, your walls strangling his cock as you struggled to take all of him. His fingers digging in your smooth skin, he gently rolled his hips to bury himself all the way. The exquisite feeling had him lose himself almost instantly. Then he really moved.

He filled you again. And again. And again. Harder. Deeper. Faster.

De drew all sorts of sounds out of you and loved every second of it. Nothing brought him more satisfaction than hearing you panting— or better still, screaming— his name when you fell apart under his ministrations. That at least, he knew he was doing right. Oh how he liked to see you lose your mind. All because of him. All because of how good he was to you.

He knew you by heart, so when you rewarded him with a few yelps, he picked up the pace until the obscene sound of your joining echoed on the stone walls of your chambers.

He angled your hips and reached deeper even, pleasure building quickly and almost painfully at the base of his spine. You felt so good around his cock, he feared he might find his pleasure before you found yours.

And that, he could not allow.

Not once had you left his bed unsatisfied, and that day was no exception. He needed you to come. Now.

He let down your leg and you both groaned at the tightness. You cursed when his finger teased your clit. The hand holding your belly went to your neck instead and he squeezed gently. You gasped, your legs beginning to shake.

“You like when I hold you tight, hm?” he asked in a ragged breath. You nodded.

When he had you silent, he knew he was doing good.

“You like it when I do all these things to you? When you have no choice but to take it?”

“Uhum” you nodded.

“Uhum?” he smugly echoed you, and you cried out, trashing against him.

He knew you liked to believe you were a lady in charge. It amused him when he heard you tell his nephews and nieces that you were the one holding the reins.

“I may not control you outside these walls… you may be Lady of Harrenhal… but in our bed, I’m your King,” he sneered in your ear, emphasizing the last word with a sharp thrust. You shuddered and clenched down on his cock so tight he groaned against your ear.

Pleasure wracked through you instantly. Aemond held you while your whole body shivered against his. Your walls strangled him so tight, it felt like a vice. Your head fell back against his shoulder, your jaw hanging open, forming a perfect O shape.

“You look exquisite when you fall apart, my love,” he breathed against your cheek, nearing his peak as well. “You are so good to me.” You whimpered helplessly, your nails digging in his forearms. “Only me.” For a moment, he believed he had you forget about the pain in your back. No discomfort, nothing. Just pleasure. Overwhelming, mind numbing, soul shattering pleasure. “Mine.”

And he fucked you through your orgasm. Your whimpers turned to wails as he went in and out, keeping his torturous pace. You groaned his name, your hands frantically reaching back for him, but he held you tight. You cursed profusely yet praised how good he made you feel. He snapped his hips a few more times, until you reached yet another release.

“Aemond!” you screamed and just like that, he was gone, hit by a shattering climax. For a moment, he lost his vision. His mind went absolutely blank and air left his lungs. His whole body spasmed, head buried in your long hair, roaring his pleasure and spilling himself deep within you.

He shivered, feeling your walls rippling around his sensitive cock.

He panted in your neck, nuzzling your sweaty flesh.

He inhaled deeply, close to being drunk on your scent.

He loved the smell of you in the morning. You smelled of love.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your hair.

He felt you trembling in his arms, squirming to detangle yourself from him.

He tightened his embrace.

“I’m not done,” he growled in your ear.

You cried out as an answer, writhing against him as if you were trying to get away but he held you firmly. He knew you liked it.

He caught his breath for a moment, kissing your temple as you moaned in anticipation. He knew he could carry on. He wanted to carry on. He did not want it to be over yet.

Throbbing against your pulsing walls, he resumed his pounding while you desperately clawed at his arms. It only made him hold you tighter, his fingers circling your swollen clit as well.

He coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were an absolute mess. Even when he feared he was too intense, you surprised him by begging for more.

You were truly perfect.

The high pitch sounds you made were a symphony to his ears, like a reward for going through such a wretched day.

When your cries turned into sobs, he knew you had enough. He buried himself to the hilt and exploded, filling you again with his seed, sinking his teeth in your neck to muffle his own cry of pleasure.

You both needed a moment to recover. You startled when he wiped away the tears that fell on your cheeks. Even the slightest touch had you flinching. You liked it when he unleashed himself fully but seeing you almost broken afterwards worried him sometimes. You were quick to reassure him as your trembling hands reached for his and you kissed his fingers one by one.

Then his hand found its way back to your belly. He shifted but kept you impaled on his manhood, still not ready to lose the intimacy, unable to let go of you yet.

“Please, you have to let me rest, my love” you begged, shivers going down your spine as he twitched inside you.

"But you are so warm," he pleaded sleepily in your ear.

"You want to sleep like this!?” you yelped, mildly shocked. He felt your slight panic as you tried to stay still, unequivocally overstimulated.

"I’d spend my life buried in that cunt," he answered truthfully, leaving open mouth kisses on your jaw. His fingers grazed your sensitive skin and you shivered terribly.

"Sounds exhausting," you jested.

"Sounds like the last seven months,” he quipped. You laughed and he gripped your waist harshly, groaning at the sudden tightness when your muscles clenched on his softening cock. "Shhh sleep. ‘Tis almost morning anyway.”

Neither of you did, in fact, sleep.

Not even ten minutes had gone by that you lost every bit of the sanity left in you. Your walls pulsed at the cruel pressure and you started grinding on him shamelessly. So he resumed his sweet torture until the sun was up.

Until you were soaked with both your cum.

Until the feathered bed was definitely ruined.

Until you almost lost consciousness.

Until he truly lost himself in you.

1 day before

READER

At midday, the Queen fetched you. You did not show up to break fast with the rest of the family, nor did you join her for tea later on. You stayed in late, making up for the hours of sleep and energy Aemond robbed from you when he came back at dusk.

Queen Alicent implored her son to get up at once and go to his father to apologize for his behavior. Aemond downright refused. She acknowledged his struggle, but assured him that his father meant well. It was years late, but the King wanted to make amends now.

“Then why are you here instead of him?” Aemond asked, putting on his tunic carelessly.

“He… he is not as young as he used to be. Please, go to him. He loves you, Aemond. He loves you and he is proud of you. Just apologize for your outburst.”

“No.”

Then he stormed off and ordered the maids to draw you a bath. Even when his patience was tested, he thought of you. You saw sorrow in The Queen’s eyes and you promised you would try to speak to him about it, but that you would not insist if he refused again.

“You are the only person he listens to,” she said with a faint smile before she left.

If only that were true. Aemond was awfully headstrong, and visibly struggled to be back in the capital. You let him fuck you senseless until the sun was up because you wanted to, yes, but also because you felt like he needed it. He needed you. He loved to give you pleasure and get praised in return. That you noticed early on when you got intimate.

Your bodies joined for what felt like hours, leaving you the good kind of sore. However, when pleasure completely ebbed out from your every limb, you were immediately reminded of the downsides of carrying his heir. You should be grateful to the Mother for such a precious gift, but could not fathom doing it for two moons more.

Aemond called from the water chamber. He sat beside the tub and rubbed your neck while the oils and flowers worked their magic. He whispered sweet nothings in High Valyrian, his hands soothing your tensed back as you spoke back in the best of your capabilities.

He wanted to be with you. Alone with you. He wanted comfort and for years, you were the only one who provided him with it.

In the afternoon, Aemond spent time with his siblings as you sat in the gardens with your family. Your father and brother wished to speak of how you ran Harrenhal.

You learned that Master Sylvan sent reports by ravens every week. Turns out you did an outstanding job at training new boys and girls from the court. Well, not you. Aemond did. He reinforced the military strategy as well. As for you, you established great relations with the houses of the Riverlands and the people. You eased decades old tensions between some families and helped build a lasting peace in the land. You both ruled fairly, wisely and you inspired respect. Everything your father knew you would achieve.

Your heart burst with pride… yet something lingered in your mind. As good as you were at resolving conflicts between the people at Harrenhal, you wished you could do something about the strife at the very heart of this castle.

When it was time to attend Jacaerys and Helena’s engagement feast, you did not know how to brush the subject with Aemond. You waited all night, sitting by his side, thinking how you could sneak the subject in your conversations. Aemond never liked feasts to begin with. In King’s Landing, at least. But he had a good day so far… It was worth a try. Yet when you finally found the courage to talk to him, you saw the King leave the hall with your father and some knights in tow.

Then you swore you saw the King leaned on your father for support as the door closed behind them. “My love… I think you need to speak with your father,” you spoke privately in his ear. “Now.”

He kissed your hand, but calmly replied: “I won’t. I only wished for one peaceful evening before we leave for Harrenhal in the morrow.” You nodded, but worried nonetheless when the Queen left as well.

At least, the feast was a success. Halaena was elated to dance with Jacaerys all night. Aegon was a little tipsy but pleased to have his brother by his side again. Daeron was relatively quiet but invited a dozen young ladies to dance with him. Very daring, you thought.

You dared to dance too. Harwin fetched you and you leaned on him while he unhurriedly swayed you around. Aemond even stayed for a few more cups of wine, strangely enjoying himself for once.

He persuaded Aegon to stop pursuing a married lady of the court when his gaze fell upon you… You were dancing with his nephew. Well, your nephew as well. Lucerys asked for a dance and you agreed.

“The King wants for us to make peace,” you reminded him kindly.

“Yes. It is easier said than done… Is this whole situation salvageable to begin with? Even if I formally apologize to Aemond, he will never recognize he has to apologize as well,” explained Lucerys who danced slowly to accommodate you.

“Lucerys… A dragon cannot be claimed out of legacy. You know that. Rhaena knows. Baela knows. Jacaerys knows. Dragons are not slaves. They choose their rider. Vaghar chose him. He didn’t do anything wrong,” you stressed, hoping he would understand.

“Rhaena never had the time to try!”

“She had ample time, nephew,” rebuked Aemond, appearing behind you and grabbing your hand resting on Lucery’s shoulder. “I won’t apologize for claiming a riderless dragon. Now please, leave my wife alone before you decide to carve one of her eyes out as well.”

“Uncle Aemond—” began Lucerys, but Aemond stole you away already.

“Please don’t provoke them, nothing good will come of it,” you cautioned. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m merely wishing for you to live without grudges eating away at you.”

“I know you feel the need to resolve this particular conflict because of your devotion to me, but do you hear yourself?” he spitted back startling you. “You are taking their side!”

“I’m on your side, Aemond. Always. You know that”, you huffed, pained he would ever think otherwise. “Now please excuse me, I’ll retire for the evening, I ache all over.”

AEMOND

Aemond stayed for one more cup of wine, silently seething in a corner. He knew you meant well, but years of resentment will do that to a man. When he cooled down an hour later, he went back to your chambers.

When he did not find you in your bed, he feared he angered you more than he thought. Then he heard noises coming from the adjacent water chamber. If she is still bathing at this hour, her back must be killing her, he thought.

Eye wide, he walked in on you shuddering, head thrown back against the edge of the tub, back arched with a hand between your legs, water threatening to spill everywhere.

It was a sight.

He instantly felt strained in his trousers, looking at you positively flushed and wanton.

Knowing he had nothing to do with your state of dishevelment, he made his displeasure known.

READER

“My love.”

“Seven hells!” you jumped. Water splashed everywhere on the floor and you stopped your movements at once.

"If I’m somehow lacking in this aspect of our marriage— which I know I’m not because you are obviously carrying my heir so soon after our union— I would very much like you to tell me," he teased, removing his tunic and the cotton shift he wore underneath.

"Pleasure eases the pain. You stayed late at dinner. A wife has to make do," you justified, making it sound like a reproach, but with a faint smile on your lips.

"You vowed to the old gods and the new that you are mine. That includes your pleasure," he clarified, kneeling beside the bath and plunging a hand underwater. His hand skimmed your leg, going higher and higher until he reached your cunt and picked up where you left off.

"You mean to tell me—” you gasped mid-sentence when his fingers parted your lips and found your clit. “—that not once you have pleasured yourself with your hand since you claimed me?"

"I have not,” he said, his fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb expertly teasing you. His lips grazed your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face. Your lips parted and you fought to keep your eyes open.

“...I’m impressed, actually,” you quipped, between pants. “From what I’ve read, men usually d…” you did not finish your sentence. Aemond even stopped his ministrations, leaving you free falling as you were so close to the edge.

“...What on earth have you been reading?” he pressed curiously, resuming his movements in an agonizingly slow pace that had you lose your mind.

“Nothing,” you replied a little too quickly, now panting desperately. He looked at you incredulously. “...Well I may have stumbled upon Maester Merandys’ book on pleasure and martial duty once…”

"Have you, now?” he queried, curling his finger so he rubbed that spot deeper inside you, harder and faster. “I have also read it, as a matter of fact.”

Of course he did. You knew it the moment you read the words on the page. You thanked the gods that Aemond was an exemplary scholar and husband. Every book he read he mastered the subject. So when a Maester wrote a whole chapter on how pleasuring women effectively lead to a happier marriage, he read avidly… and never left your bed without making absolutely sure you reached your peak three times. At the very least.

He bent down until his hair dipped in the water. He swallowed your cries as your release barreled through you with ferocity, hitting you like lightning yet lingering long after, enough to have you shamefully moaning. Your cries echoed on the stone walls. Water splashed on the floor as you writhed horribly, gripping his arm as he fucked you through it with his fingers still.

Aemond was very thorough and it was a curse as well as a blessing.

After a moment, he delicately pulled his hand, caressed your belly and kissed your forehead. “Come.” He helped you stand, gripping you firmly as you got out of the tub, knowing he had your legs feel like jelly.

He dried your hair with a cloth, your curls already forming. When you reached the bed, he kissed you tenderly. “I apologize for earlier. I know you mean well,” he spoke in a mumble.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you answered while he walked you backwards until the back of your legs bumped on the bed.

“Do you want my fingers again?” he murmured, brushing your inner thigh with his hand. “My mouth, mayhaps?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Or my cock?” He pressed his body to yours and you felt his manhood, hard and ready in the confines of his trousers.

You were on fire, your body humming with need.

“You know what I want,” you crooned, laying down on the edge of the bed, your legs parted and hanging down the side. As much as you loved the child in your womb, some positions became quite tedious as your belly grew. You wished you could feel all of him on top of you but that would be for another time.

He propped your hips up with a cushion and gave you exactly what you wanted. Your breasts bounced with each thrust and his gaze kept darting from them to your face. His hands held your thighs, your hips, your breasts, your belly, any part of your body he could reach. You stiffen, your toes curling, your hands fisting the sheets and your head so far back he could only see the column of your neck.

Aemond fucked like he fought. With fiery passion, taking no prisoners.

He had you come multiple times. Again.

Enough to scramble your brain. Again.

He almost made you forget you were cross with him. Almost.

Your head rested on his arm. He traced figures on your shoulder, the pads of his fingers always lingering on the small scars scattered here and there from years of sword training with him. Oh how you missed your morning routine.

He talked of his mother. He spoke of how she tried to reason with him over tea during the afternoon, saying that even she made peace with the King's decisions. The crowned Princes are Targaryens, their dragon eggs hatched, and this and that.

After a moment, he fell silent. You chose your words carefully.

“People wouldn’t say a word if your sister were a man. Her children have as much Targaryen blood as you, Aemond… I don’t think this is about the line of succession… You are still angry about your eye. Punishing your father or Lucerys will never bring it back… it only brings you anger and frustrations. I love you, but I beseech you… Stop fighting, my love.”

“Seeing you defend them so vehemently makes me want to burn this castle. You are supposed to be on my side. You are my wife,” he protested again, stopping his caresses. You felt his temper rising, but could not bring yourself to calm him down as you usually did.

“I am your wife. I am on your side. But there cannot be sides for this. Your father wants the family to put their differences aside. You are my husband, but he is my King. I have to do as he commands,” you explained. “Do you see the position you put me in?”

He sighed, rubbing his scarred cheek with desperate hands. “Your King was more of a father to them than he ever was to me. They get away with everything. And now? They have the crown! The Throne, Dragonstone, Driftmark… They are glorified, praised even, everything is handed to them on a silver platter while I have nothing.”

It felt like plunging in an icy lake.

Your breath shallowed as his words sinked in. For a moment a vice squeezed your heart in your chest. You felt the ache all the way to your belly, as if the child felt it too.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Tears pricked your eyes, your stomach turned and you tasted acid in your mouth. You tried to keep your calm but your nerves got the better of you.

“You have the Riverlands,” you retorted in a surprisingly calm voice as resentment simmered in your veins. “…You have Harrenhal… a court that respects you, vast green lands to roam as you please… You have an army and knights who look up to you… You have a dragon, ‘the largest in the world’ as you remind us all so often…” Your voice started shaking and his expression changed. Color drained from his face as he realized what you meant. “You have me,” you bemoaned, a sob catching in your throat. “So what you are saying is that… all this means nothing to you?”

Choking back tears, you stood up and went to sit in front of your looking glass.

“That is not what I meant—”

“I would like to sleep alone tonight,” you said in a cold voice. You avoided his stare, brushing carelessly the ends of your tangled curly hair. He stood behind you for a few seconds. You waited for his excuses. You were expecting explanations, reassurance, something, anything.

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain you felt when he kept silent and left. Your heart broke in a million pieces as the wooden door closed behind him with a bang.

For the first time since your adventures in the Stormlands, Aemond did not share your bed.

10 hours before

READER

Your maid woke you up early. You were exhausted and your heart ached as much as your back. You spent the night tossing and turning, no longer used to sleeping alone. You did not have time to bathe either for the whole family was called to the throne room. Now you were cranky, stressed and frustrated as well.

“An urgent meeting, my lady,” clarified Maeva, emerging from your dressing room holding your favorite blue silk gown with elaborate silver embroideries on the skirt and clasps shaped like flowers. Her eyes darted around the room, surprised to find you alone. You sighed.

Not long after, you stood beside Helaena as the lords and ladies of the court gathered around the throne. You felt Aemond approaching, his amber and sandalwood scent always giving him away. He was by your side but refrained from holding your hand as he usually did. You were no longer cross, but appreciated he respected your boundaries after the words you spoke.

“We received a raven from Storm’s End,” announced the King. “Lord Boros of House Baratheon heard of Jacaerys and Helaena’s betrothal and feels it is a betrayal, citing past unfruitful negotiations with him. It was once understood that our houses were to join with Prince Aemond marrying one of his daughters.” The whole family turned around to look at your Prince. You grabbed his hand instantly, knowing he hated when that many people stared. “Furthermore, Lord Boros now has an alliance with the Reach since his daughter Maris married Luthor Tyrell of Highgarden.” At the mention of your former betrothed, Aemond laced his fingers to yours, soothingly stroking your skin with his thumb.

“There is more,” declared your father the Hand, “Lord Boros claims he could stop merchant boats from sailing to King’s Landing if the crown does not offer him some sort of compensation. He seems to believe he could convince the Reach to stop supplying King’s Landing with their grain, meat and fresh food as well.”

“This is preposterous,” thundered Lord Corlys. A brouhaha erupted over your father’s word. People afraid of a siege, knights speaking of doubling the guards at every gates and Prince Daemon snarling he could take down the lord before dinner if he left now with Caraxes and a few gold cloaks.

“Your grace, I propose we send a son from each house to speak to Lord Boros at once. We need to present a united front,” your father suggested wisely.

“I’ll go,” declared Jacaerys in a solemn tone.

“You can’t,” replied Princess Rhaenyra. “You are heir to the Iron Throne after me. We can’t risk it.”

“Prince Lucerys will go,” suggested Prince Daemon. “He is a crowned Prince too, and heir to the Driftwood throne. We need to remind Lord Boros that if he ever plans to rise against the King, he is also rising against Old Town, Harrenhal, Dragonstone, Driftmark and the North as well.”

They all turned to Aegon who stumbled upon his own feet, eyes wide. He was apparently fetched from an obscure establishment on the street of silk at dawn.

“I drank too much, I can’t go. I’ll fall off Sunfyre.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond volunteered. He looked passive, but you had a bad feeling. He avoided your intense stare as the brouhaha resumed. He kissed your hand and went to his brother before you could say a single word.

AEMOND

Aegon looked at Aemond, both sporting a grave face. “I believe it’s time…” Aemond uttered, resolute but somehow still wishing for his older brother’s approval. “I might…”

“Yes,” Aegon acquiesced, sobering up almost instantly. “Do it. Don’t hesitate.”

Aemond nodded then went back to you. He spent the previous night wallowing in despair, alone, in his old chambers. His father’s carelessness and his nephew's arrogance clouded his judgment. That and the damn eyepatch had him in a tizzy. He used words that were too strong, he expressed himself badly and he hurt you. Again. Sometimes, he wondered if he was better off when he kept silent more.

He reached for your hand once more and apologized sincerely.

“I did not mean you were nothing,” he explained. “You are, in fact, everything.”

Your traits soften as he spoke. A colossal weight lifted from his shoulder when you forgave him and said that you knew he did not mean it. You apologized too and blamed the little dragon growing in you for giving you the temper of one. Even now, your fingers tightened on your belly while the child kept kicking you, testing your limits.

READER

You lined up on the beach, bidding the Princes a safe journey. They could very well prevent a war today. You tried to smile as you gave your husband a few words of encouragement and requested he be careful since the weather is always unpredictable in the Stormlands.

“Don’t I know it,” he answered, a hand on your cheek. He kissed you passionately and you fought to keep a straight face.

“Just… please, don’t do anything rash,” you implored.

They took flight together and you prayed for an uneventful encounter with Lord Boros. When they were far enough, you finally let your mask fall and clanged to your maid as if she was a crutch.

“Maeva…would you escort me to my room and fetch the maester?” you groaned, the pains getting stronger.

It was two moons too early, but your child was definitely coming.

As you got away, you heard the commotion behind you. You first heard a loud thud. Then Queen Alicent screamed for help. Prince Daemon shoved guards aside to get through. Princess Rhaenyra followed closely behind. You heard the distinct clanking of the gold armor of every guard as they rushed to their King…

6 hours before

AEMOND

Did the weather ever relent in the Stormlands, Aemond wondered as he once again flew in atrocious conditions, rain battering at his face. After a few hours of flight, he found himself in Lord Boros’s gloomy throne room with Lucerys at his side. He put his personal feelings aside as they both tried to reason with the stubborn Lord.

“You were supposed to marry my Ellyn,” Lord Boros barked at Aemond, pointing at one of his frightened daughters standing beside him. He sat on his throne like he was a King.

Ludicrous.

“I simply found alliances elsewhere,” added Boros.

“Threatening the crown with rebellion is not wise, my lord,” threatened Lucerys.

Aemond looked at his nephew, unreservedly horrified. Threats? Seriously? Menacing Lord Boros was not very wise as well. What was he thinking? Had he not studied basic conversational skills?

Pathetic.

“We solely ask for a temporary truce between…”

And there was the heir to Driftmark. Threatening Boros, then almost begging him to stop his impending siege on King’s Landing.

Ridiculous.

Aemond was the eloquent one. It was he who studied philosophy, history, warfare and politics. He was Lord of Harrenhal and he was good at it.

“So what do you have to offer? You will marry one of my daughters, boy?” asked Boros, laughing outrageously. “You are so young, you probably still suck at your mother’s tit—”

“If I may, my Lord,” interjected Aemond. Lord Boros' eyes went from Lucerys to Aemond, disdain clear on his face. Even if Aemond did not bear any sentiment toward his sister Rhaenyra, he would not have a lesser lord speak of a Targaryen in that manner. Not to mention that Lucerys’s ineptitude was about to start a damn war. “My brother Aegon, the King’s first born son is looking for a bride. If you were to agree to this union with one of your daughters, they would be heir to the Hightower family seat in Oldtown. They would have vast fertile lands, an army, a fleet, a dragon and dragon eggs for all children that the union may produce. They would also have the King’s ear.”

Lord Boros seemed reluctant, but keened at the mention of dragon eggs and proximity to the King. Aemond spoke and Lord Boros listened. Lucerys stayed silent for the rest of the negotiations. He even looked at Aemond with… was it admiration? Aemond was not sure.

5 hours before

AEMOND

They both exited the castle in silence. Aemond, however, was burning inside. He was outraged that Lucerys almost threw them into a war for his lack of political skills. He suddenly imagined you giving birth while fire rained on the castle during a siege and fury coursed through his veins. Lucerys was the future heir of Driftmark and could not simply hold a conversation with a lord.

Disgraceful.

“All hail the lord of Driftmark. Trying to have us killed when we were supposed to be negotiating for peace,” drawled Aemond loudly as they reached Vaghar and Arrax on the other side of the castle.

“I’m not as experienced as you, uncle. I feel no shame in admitting it,” answered his nephew who adjusted his hood in the pouring rain.

“You almost started a war, you inarticulate idiot!” Aemond shouted, fiddling with the pommel of his sword. “I should have known, you are usually the one stupidly starting conflicts.” The eyepatch dug in the ridges of his scar and it put him even more on edge.

“I’m not fighting with you, uncle,” argued Lucerys. “I promised my mother I wouldn’t do anything foolish.”

“You already took my eye. I would call that foolish enough,” scowled Aemond, giving into his anger.

Lucerys turned to go to Arrax but stopped when he heard a loud clang of metal on the rocks behind him. Aemond had thrown a knife at his feet.

“One on one,” Aemond dared him, taking out another knife. “Much more even than four against one, don’t you agree?”

“I’m not fighting with you,” repeated Lucerys, suddenly frightened. He climbed on his dragon and flew away in the blink of an eye.

Aemond scrambled for his knife and mounted Vaghar as fast as he could. “Jikagon tolī zirȳla”. Chase him.

He flew high, knowing Lucerys was close beneath. He hid in the dark clouds and got closer, rain soaking him to the bones. Out of thin air, Vaghar soared and almost devoured Arrax, sending both the small dragon and its rider in a panic. The little dragon plunged down with its rider and flew through cliffs and ravines bordering the coast of the Stormlands in order to hide from the monstrous beast that was Vaghar.

Aemond had to admit it… It felt good. He laughed almost maniacally, closing his eye and letting the rain fall on his face as Vaghar observed the coast. “Jemēla gēlȳni enkā, Taobus!” You owe a dept, boy!

He could barely see anything in the downpour. He surveyed the beach but there was no sign of them whatsoever. Suddenly, Arrax came from above and spewed fire on Vaghar, missing Aemond by a thread.

“Daor, Arrax! Yne dohaerās!” No, Arrax! Serve me!

But it was too late. Defending her rider, Vaghar roared loud enough to crumble the nearby cliffs and started chasing the smaller dragon. She did not listen to Aemond either when he panicked, pulled on the reins and shouted at her to stop the chase at once.

Vaghar speeded and snapped her mighty jaw so close to Arrax’s tail that the little dragon jerked and threw his rider off his saddle.

Arrax flew away while Lucerys fell in the raging sea.

Eye wide, Aemond frantically scoured the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. The rain was heavy and made it almost impossible to locate the Prince… if there was something left to locate. Now that Vaghar had calmed down, he circled the area. Utterly mortified.

He realized he was presented with a choice. Revenge was technically in his grasp. Help the crowned Prince or… let him drown. He could even blame it on the weather.

Years of anger coursing through his veins.

Years of living in the shadow of his older sister with no justice served for his eye.

Years of enduring the snarks, the laughter and the wary looks.

Years of pining for the woman he loved when he could have had her all along.

Years of telling everyone his scar just felt numb when sometimes he woke in the middle of the night with lancing pain so strong it made him want to die…

The pain made him say things… do things… It was better now that he rarely wore his eyepatch. They all thought he naturally had a nasty temper, and he played along. It was better than having everyone’s pity on top of their disgust when they looked at him.

Then he thought of you and how terribly empathetic you were. If you knew about the pain… it would kill you. He decided a long time ago that he would spare you that.

Then Aemond spotted Lucerys.

His nephew was alive, not far from the coast, desperately trying to swim through the crashing waves.

It felt like an eternity when in truth, Aemond’s pondering lasted a few seconds. Deep down, Aemond was not the scary monster the court made him out to be. He was not a cold blooded killer. He remembered who he was with you. He remembered his life at Harrenhal. He remembered how happy he was these past moons… He was a scholar. He was a soldier. He was a lover. He was a lemon cake stealer, even. He was going to be a father…

But he was not a murderer.

If the Prince died in these waters today, there would be war. No doubt that Rhaenyra and Daemon would swoop down Harrenhal and melt what was left of the castle with their dragons.

Aemond ordered Vaghar to land in the water. He instructed her to extend a wing so Lucerys could cling onto it until they reached the coast.

The crowned Prince kneeled in the sand, retching and catching his breath. Aemond climbed down the net on the side of Vaghar and slowly walked to him. Lucerys looked up, unsure of his faith but he spoke anyway.

“You had no… no reason to save me… but I’m grateful that you did,” he managed to say.

“Hm…” simply replied Aemond, looking at the horizon. The sun started to pierce the heavy clouds. Lucerys sought to stand but was exhausted. Aemond observed him as he abdicated and sat in the sand.

“…I’m sorry for your eye, Aemond,” Lucerys admitted sincerely. “If I could give it back to you, I would. With time, it became more and more difficult to mend our differences. I cannot imagine what life has been like for you, but know that I think about what I did everyday and how I caused our two families to split. You are right, we are strong boys. But we are Rhaenyra Targaryen’s boys as well. We are your wife’s nephews too.”

Aemond remembered your words. How women were held by questionable standards when men could sire tens of bastards without anyone batting an eyelash. How the knights always underestimated you when you came to train with the sword. How Luthor Tyrell all but treated you like a prized broodmare when you were destined to be one of the grandest ladies of the realm.

Aemond did not even hate his sister Rhaenyra… but he hated how his father only seemed to care about her and excused all her mistakes. The crowned Princes were indeed Targaryens. That, Aemond accepted by now. But no justice after he was unfairly attacked? No consequences whatsoever for his assailant? That was what hurt Aemond the most.

“I defended my brother, that I will never grieve over. I thought you would kill him. But we were children. Stupid children, might I even say. I wished we could leave the past in the past and work on the future instead. You at Harrenhal. Aeg—”

“Y/n at Harrenhal,” immediately corrected Aemond. “I’m her lord consort.”

“You rule as equal, though,” Lucerys pointed out. “Y/n and you at Harrenhal. Aegon at Oldtown. Me at Driftmark. Joffrey at Dragonstone. Daeron at Winterfell, and Jacaerys and Halaena in King’s Landing. …Think of what we could achieve together.”

True to himself, Aemond was silent.

“Do you forgive me?” Lucerys ultimately asked.

The raging storm started to clear and the noise from the rain eased. Arrax appeared and landed at the other end of the beach, as far as possible from Vaghar. Aemond exhaled… and extended his hand to help Lucerys get up on his feet.

“…I’m tired of being angry all the time,” Aemond answered, taking off his damn itching eyepatch and throwing it as far as he could in Shipbreaker Bay.

Surprisingly, Lucerys looked at his eye instead of the sapphire when he spoke once more.

“…but do you forgive me?”

“I’m not ready to say the words, but I’m done fighting,” Aemond sighed.

2 hours before

AEMOND

Aemond got back to King’s landing first, Lucerys not far behind. Arrax was a small dragon, and not as fast and powerful as Vaghar afterall. His own guards from Harrenhal waited for him at the gates. One of the knights he trained with daily stepped forward.

“My lord, please go to Lady Strong at once. The child is coming.”

Aemond cursed every single step and hallway that separated him from you. Your chambers were so far from the mud gate, it gave him enough time to start panicking again.

It was too soon.

You had two moons left before the child was supposed to be born. He had read everything he could get his hands on about birth. You thought he was overly fussing with you, but he read absolute horrors in those books. Women disregarded and butchered to save the child’s life; labor lasting days with them wailing in agony; mothers appearing absolutely fine then having convulsions and excruciating headaches before they stopped breathing altogether. You even confided in him how your own mother died giving birth alone.

He tried to calm himself down but the day took its toll on him. He nearly killed Lucerys in his wrath. He accused his nephew of almost starting a war then went on to do the same by chasing him with Vaghar. He went close to proving to the realm that he was indeed the monster they thought he was. And now you were giving birth alone while he acted like a complete fool.

Never again.

Aemond nearly broke down the door to your chambers. When his eye fell on your bed, what he found truly horrified him. Blood. Blood everywhere. On your bed. On your nightgown. On your legs. Smothered on your arms as well. Your arms that… held onto a small bundle of cloth, rocking slightly from side to side as you hummed tenderly.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” he bellowed, eye shining with unshed tears.

“Shhh Aemond, seven hells. She just fell asleep!” you chided him in a low voice.

Aemond let out a gasp of relief. He looked down for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened to fall on his cheeks, then rushed to your side. Usually, when you swore like a bravosi sealord, you were all right. “She?”

“She, yes. She is small but healthy,” you murmured, looking at him with loving eyes.

“How long ago?” he asked, as if it mattered now that everything was over.

“Two hours maybe. It went very fast. She just stopped screaming,” you turned to the little bundle of joy in your arms. “You have your father’s temper, don’t you?”

Aemond winced at your playful jab at his temper. He looked at his beautiful baby girl, chasing away any thoughts of what happened in the Stormlands.

Lucerys was unarmed. No war was on the way. You were alive and so was his little girl.

He could not possibly be raising her like this, with fire burning inside. He wanted to teach her High Valyrian. He wanted to fly around the realm on dragonback with her. He wanted her to learn swordplay and combat strategy.

He stripped from his knife, sword and boots. He climbed in the bed beside you and sat against the headboard, knees propped up to cradle the baby on his legs. He took one small hand in his, looking for missing fingernails or something. But the child was perfect. He brushed the hair on her head. A head of silvery white locks. “She has your curls.”

You chuckled. “Yours as well,” you quipped, your hand pulling on a strand of his hair wavy from the rain. You loved his wavy hair.

He turned his face to you. “Were you alone? Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. I had the maids and Maester Orwyle with me. I was okay,” you swore.

Where was Maester Mellos? Orwyle was only an Archmaester. He was only in the capital if something happened to old Mellos. Where was your father? You brother? Hells, even Helaena would have come to your bedside too.

“Do you need anything?” he wondered. “I’m fairly good at nicking lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

“I want to bathe and sleep, to be honest,” you confessed with half-lidded eyes. Your maid Maeva approached you, but Aemond insisted on doing it himself. She changed the sheets instead.

Aemond handed your sleeping daughter to your wet nurse and walked you to the bath. He washed your hair, massaged your back and kissed the top of your head. You enjoyed his loving touch as he helped you to your nightgown, brushed your hair and tucked you into bed. He did it all in silence, but he knew you felt the love and devotion emanating from his every pore.

“How did it go with Lord Boros?” you promptly asked, reminding him of his eventful day.

“It went… Well there will be no war,” he confirmed, but he saw the curiosity in your eyes. “I’ll tell you in the morning. Now rest. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Ēdrugon isse īlva bed bisa bantis,” you said sleepily, grabbing his hand. Sleep in our bed tonight.

“Yes, my love. Emā ñuha bantior, daor nārhēdegon.” You claimed my nights, remember.

1 hour before

AEMOND

Now that he knew you were well, Aemond had only one thing in mind: getting rid of his wet clothes. He had to be presentable before he spoke to his father, the hand and Aegon at the very least… and to brave whatever may come to him when Lucerys would tell Rhaenyra and Daemon what transpired in the Stormlands. He should be back by now.

Although, when he got out of your chambers, Aegon waited for him in the corridor. Strangely sober. Before Aemond could ask what he was doing there, Aegon waved a hand, an invitation to follow him.

“Come. It’s father.”

When they entered the royal chambers, Aemond found his mother praying in front of the giant seven pointed star she had installed near the bed. As soon as she saw him, she hugged him with a strength he did not know her. “It’s his heart,” she cried. “It beats too faintly. It’s been like that for a week now, we had to move fast to discuss the line of succession and… oh please go to him, Aemond. Speak with him before it’s too late, I beg you.”

Unsure, Aemond joined the others. His siblings were all sitting around the bed, including Rhaenyra. Daemon was there, Aemond’s nephews and nieces as well. Lucerys stood beside his brothers, completely drenched too. Aemond stared at him briefly, assessing the situation. Lucerys shook his head.

They don’t know yet.

When he met Aegon’s stare again, Aemond nodded slightly. Aegon nodded back, confirming he understood his fate was sealed in Storm’s End.

Aemond came to his father’s side, still shook at the news that he was dying and kept it a secret. He was conscious, but his ragged breath was alarming.

“Aemond, my son,” he wheezed. Aemond spoke as an emissary would.

“Father, we negotiated an allianc—”

“He,” corrected Lucerys. “He negotiated an alliance.”

Aemond looked at him attentively. Lucerys nodded, urging him to continue. “…I negotiated an alliance with Lord Boros to make the kingdom stronger. Aegon’s future is secured in Old Town with Ellyn Baratheon at his side. There will be no war, no siege on King’s Landing and no blockade in the Narrow Sea.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. “That is… w…wonderful news, Aemond,” the King whispered. “I knew you were… the best man for the job. You’ve become… a … fine young lord.”

Aemond was silent, eye wide, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Out of all my children… you were the diligent one. Always studying… always learning… eager to prove himself a true Targaryen… And now, you saved us from a war… I’m so proud of what you have become.”

Aemond looked at his mother in disbelief, shocked at the words he heard. She had a faint smile.

“You were right… I have been a poor father to you… I only wished I had more time to… make things right… To apologize properly… meanwhile, I… I have something for you.”

The King gestured to his bedside table. Aemond gazed around but did not see what he could possibly be looking for. Daemon approached and grabbed the long sword leaning on the wall.

He unsheathed it and the Valyrian steel glimmered in the faint light from the sunset. Aemond took the precious sword in his hand and admired the handiwork.

“I give you Blackfyre, Aemond… a fine sword for a fine lord and warrior… you are definitely worthy of this sword… know that I never wanted you… to feel like you did not matter…”

Aemond’s vision started to blur. He blinked quickly, trying to gain some composure while listening to his father’s harsh breath.

He was a father too now. He read countless books on the subject. He was bound to make mistakes as well. He will probably lose his mind when little lords will try to woo his daughter with lemon cakes, mainly because that was what he did. He knew he could not go forth if he still clung on grudges like these. Then and there, Aemond made the silent promise of being everything his little girl needed him to be.

And it began with forgiveness.

“I accept your apology, father,” Aemond breathed faintly. He heard his mother sob somewhere behind him. “I forgive you… and you are the first to know that my wife just gave birth to a healthy baby girl.”

“Oh… a granddaughter… I am… delighted…”

And with these few words, a faint smile curling his lips, the King drew his last breath. On the third day of the third moon of 129 AC, King Viserys, first of his name, died in his bed. His heart stopped beating, leaving his entire family, and the realm, in grief.

And here he was...

Standing between his mother and sister beside an empty Throne as Grand Maester Mellos announced the death of his father to the people of the court. For a second, he envied you. He instructed the guards to let you sleep. You needed rest, not to climb up so many stairs.

Lucerys joined his brothers amidst the announcement. He hurried to his chambers to change from his wet clothes. Wise.

Aemond’s mother went to the other side of the throne, to Rhaenyra. They both embraced and cried in each other’s arms. Jacaerys also changed sides to go to Helaena. He offered her his hand. She took it and let him kiss her cheek.

Suddenly, both sides of the family blurred into one. Aegon and Jacaerys shook hands. Daeron went to Joffrey and Baela. Rhaena came to Aemond, bowed her head and extended her hand to him. He took it and they silently ended their quarrel.

In a way, it was sad that it took the death of the King to unite both sides of the family at last. They all comforted each other until Daemon approached Rhaenyra, holding in his hand his brother’s golden crown.

Aemond’s sister went to sit on the Iron Throne and Daemon crowned her Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Daemon kneeled first, and the people of the court bent the knee subsequently, pledging fealty and allegiance to their new Queen.

While the people celebrated, the tall doors opened once more.

READER

Holding your baby girl in your arms, your brother helped you walk up to the royal family.

“Aemond,” you breathed as you reached him and hugged him with one arm, your daughter peacefully cooing in the other. “Seriously, my love? ‘Let her sleep’?”

“You need rest,” he explained, eye glistening.

“Your father and my King died. I’ll rest after. I’m a strong lady, you know that.”

“All too well, I’m afraid,” he abdicated, stroking the white locks on his little girl’s head.

“Well, we are strong as well, but not as strong as you y/n. You should indeed rest,” jested Jacaerys, impressed that you would climb all those steps to join them.

Aemond’s mother found the energy to come and congratulate you. She wanted to hold her first grandchild and you let her. She went to Prin— Queen Rhaenyra and they both admired the deep purple of her eyes. With your arms free, you hugged Aemond properly. He inhaled the scent of your hair and tightened his embrace around your tender waist. You were uncomfortable, but holding him was more important to you. Especially when you felt his tears dampening your silk shift.

He only let you go only when Lucerys approached to have a word. For a minute, you thought you were dreaming when Aemond thanked him for not telling Rhaenyra and Daemon about the chase in the stormlands.

A chase? What chase?

“I told them you went ahead while Arrax struggled in the weather. They are angry because you came back without me and they imagined all sorts of things… I told them that you would never harm me.”

“When it came to it… I couldn’t.”

What?!, you thought, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I apologize. For everything,” reiterated the crowned Prince.

“...I accept your apology, nephew,” absolved Aemond.

You had never been so confused in your entire life.

AEMOND

Aemond was unsure how he felt about losing his father, especially after the kind words he spoke in the end, but he knew that the time came to leave the past behind. He needed to make the future a better place. For everyone.

Lucerys bowed his head and took his leave.

“What happened in the Stormlands?” you inquired, worrying.

“I’ll tell you later, let’s get back to your chambers,” replied Aemond, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No, I want to know now,” you insisted.

“There was a storm, you see. We had to take shelter at an inn, with only one bed—”

“Aemond!” you chastised, refusing to move until he answered.

“What a temper, you have, my lady Strong. I’m afraid I’m a terrible influence,” he teased, kissing you before you could curse at him.

When you went to fetch your daughter, the rest of the royal family offered their congratulations. You went to bend the knee to your Queen but she immediately grabbed you, saying you did not need to in your condition. You always liked Queen Rhaenyra, even if you never spent much time with her when you were younger.

As you looked at the entire family, you smiled knowing the bridges had been mended.

12 moons later

READER

You stood on top of the castle walls, shivering… but not because of the cold. In fact, a warm wind blew in your curly hair as you glanced down at the people of the court walking in the inner yard and entering Harrenhal. While they could only see their Lady surveying the castle grounds from that angle, no one could in fact imagine that your Prince was on his knees, wedged between the wall and you.

“Aemond, please,” you pleaded, closing your eyes as if it would give you strength, one of your hands messing his not-so-perfect hair now.

“Hm?” you heard, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, making you gasp out loud.

Of course he chose this moment to keep silent. You could only pray you were perched high enough so the lord and ladies could not see the faces you made as Aemond thoroughly ravaged you with his tongue and fingers.

“We have to join the p—people,” you shuddered, the pace of his fingers quickening. “...they are wa— wa—waitin—oh gods!” you stammered, out of breath as immense pleasure hit you all at once. You collapsed on the low wall, muffling your cries in the sleeve of your dress as your orgasm ripped through you, destroying in its wake every last ounce of control you futilely clinged onto.

Aemond could not care less that you crushed him against the stone wall. He held you tight and kept stroking you with his fingers at an excruciating pace, making sure you lost every bit of your sanity as well. Your whole body shivering, your first orgasm quickly blended into a second one.

A bigger one, looming in like a tidal wave. One you could feel coming, long and slow, thoroughly engulfing you until you had no choice but to weigh it out. It crashed into you hard. It was devastating. Your jaw hanging, you could no longer produce any sound. You felt it in your whole body this time… and it kept going, and going, and going. It was like you were stuck in an unending cycle of pleasure.

If it were not for his strong embrace, you would have collapsed on the rampart. You felt light headed and started to lose consciousness. Only then did Aemond slowed down his assault on your cunt and peppered your thighs with kisses and small bites.

“If you ever do this again… no, when, when you do this again… please do it in our bed. I can’t be fainting in front of our people,” you whimpered.

He did not answer but he pulled on your hands to have you sit on his lap instead, your dress pooling around the both of you.

“Please, my love, we have to go inside, they will look for us!”

“One more. Give me one more,” he insisted, sitting against the wall, rummaging through the many layers of your skirt to free his manhood from his trousers. “I want to see your face.” He notched his cock between your legs and pushed your thighs down until you swallowed him whole, hard and fast.

He groaned as you cried out. He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you arched and flush against his chest. He pumped up into your core and you luxuriated in every second of it.

“Aemond!”, a strangled cry.

“Take it,” he growled.

Fully impaled on him, you felt your orgasm build deep and fast. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and your head tipped back on a low moan. His lips brushed your shoulder and kissed the little scars you had here and there. In return, you kissed his scarred cheek like your life depended on it. Your arms went around his shoulder as you sinked into each other, both chasing your releases.

You tightened around his cock and he whimpered.

“Come.” His thrusting got faster and you wailed in his ear.

“Come, my love.” Your vision blurred, tears springing to your eyes.

“Come now.” He forced you to look at him as you screamed.

The coil in your stomach snapped abruptly, your orgasm having you practically convulsing. You collapsed against him. He let go of your head and you shoved your face in his long silvery hair, sobbing against his shoulder. He slammed up with his hips, fucking you mercilessly through it, your face twisted in pleasurable agony gave him the final push he needed. He buried himself to the hilt and cried out his own release. His warm cum filled you, dripping out and down on his thighs.

Your knees were ruined. You felt the pain more and more as pleasure left your trembling core. You whined in his arms when he slipped out of you. He cupped your face with both hands to keep you on his lap a little longer. “Look at me again.”

So you did. The midday sun hit his sapphire and hundreds of little blue lights danced around you. He had so much love in his eye it made you smile.

He pressed his lips to yours one last time. Afterall, Aemond and you had to get back inside the castle. The festivities would begin shortly.

Aemond helped you stand up and you walked to the great hall. You avoided certain hallways for you feared he would drag you into one of his favorite dark alcoves to make an even bigger mess out of you. After nearly two years of marriage, he was as insatiable as the first day he had you.

A few hours had gone by since you summoned the lords and ladies to the great hall. Your brother and other knights arrived, followed by the entirety of the royal family. Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon lead the way.

Aemond joined his brothers and sister. Aegon smirked at the state of Aemond’s hair but did not comment on it. The Queen Mother, however, came quickly to brush it with her fingers, scolding her son for his impropriety.

Now that was your fault. You have been a terrible influence for years now.

Dangling somewhere between pride and elation, Aemond held his head high. Without his eyepatch on, he did not hear laughs and jeers for once. Even if he did, nothing could put a damper on this day.

In the end, he did confide in you that his scar hurt sometimes. You were pained at the revelation but urged him to try the same oils and flowers you used when you carried your first child.

So he did. And it worked.

He was a changed man. What you thought was a bad temper was him being on edge every time his scar hurt. Now that he discarded his eyepatch once and for all, he found himself nearly free of pain and able to enjoy life as he should.

You hooked an arm through his and sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the room. Queen Rhaenyra stood beside Prince Daemon who held in his arms their latest daughter Princess Visenya. The Dowager Queen Alicent had your daughter perched on her hip, wishing to introduce her to her baby cousin.

To your surprise, Prince Aegon and Ellyn Baratheon fell in love. Just like Aemond, Aegon’s life changed for the better when he left King’s Landing to live in Old Town with his wife. He sobered up and Ellyn gave birth not three moons before to twin sons.

Prince Jacaerys laughed with his wife, Princess Helaena, who was expecting their first child in less than a moon. His younger brothers, Prince Lucerys and Joffrey, stood beside their betrothed Lady Baela and Rhaena. They will marry in the upcoming year. While some quietly exchanged some words with each other, they all had something in common…

…they had their eyes set on Aemond and you.

Though, it was no surprise why. Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room. You invited them all to celebrate your daughter’s first name day. But that was not all…

Maester Sylvan walked to the front of the dais and cleared his throat. “Even though it is Lady Alaena Targaryen’s first name day, we are gathered here today in great delight, for any day the Mother is blessing us with a life is a joyful day.” Aemond’s mother rushed to your side, firmly holding your laughing daughter in her arms. She stared at you both with anticipation. “Lady Y/n Strong and Prince Aemond are expecting their second child and heir in six moons from this day!” the Maester announced and the hall erupted in cheers.

Still, you were half listening. Maester Sylvan’s words almost felt like distant noises. You had one of those moments where you realized how far you had come and how wonderfully happy you were.

After the birth of your daughter— and as a sign of good will— Princess Rhaenyra gifted you a dragon egg. It hatched three months after it was placed in the cradle. Since then, Vaghar presented you with a fresh clutch of eggs too. Enough for your second child and Aegon’s twins.

Aemond had another special saddle made for Vaghar so he could securely take you and your daughter on adventures in the neighboring lands. He took Lady Rhaena for a flight too, wishing for her to fly one last time on her late mother’s dragon.

He trained with his nephews again when they visited Harrenhal or when they invited you to Dragonstone and Driftmark. They were eager to spend time with you as well.

The Dowager Queen Alicent stayed in King’s Landing and found comfort in scriptures, her children, grandchildren and her friendship with Queen Rhaenyra.

Lastly, when Luthor Tyrell held a tournament in the honor of his firstborn son, Aemond insisted you go. This time, he took part in the tournament. You cheered when he won both the sword fight— cutting poor Luthor’s sword in half with Blackfyre— and the joust— knocking him off his horse, his armor getting caught in the horse’s reins, dragging his insufferable arse back to the stables where it belonged. That night, you made love to Aemond not once, not twice, but thrice, knowing you made the right choice when you fought for him.

Needless to say, when you approached this sad little dragon-less boy who read alone in the library 11 years before… you did not imagine he would be the one bringing you so much joy today. And knowing you were the one brightening his days always had you emotional. Because he was everything to you.

Your friend. Your Prince. Your husband. Your love.

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few moons was certainly an understatement. He now had everything he had ever wished for and more.

At long last, Aemond Targaryen found peace. All thanks to you.

Thank you for reading!

I wanted to give Aemond a happy ending. I also realized I could in fact give a happy ending to everybody and a relatively nice death to Viserys. I don’t know about you, but I read the book and it felt really good to write this fix-it. Sorry if I toyed with your emotions throughout the story. I couldn't possibly unalive the reader during childbirth, come on. I promised you a HEA.

I was in a 12 year writing slump before I wrote Deserving, Indulging and Striving. I will write more about Aemond. Probably some smutty drabbles, imagines and one shots. This fictional man has me in a chokehold.

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