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jamespotterismydaddy · 7 months

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Seeded and Sore

aemond x niece!reader

A/N: fufilling a request, hope you enjoy love

word count: 1,347 words

TW: smut, DUBCON, spanking, incest, threats of violence (not to reader), breeding kink, slight knife kink, virginity loss, rough smut

“What are you wearing?” Aemond asks as his eyes rake over your figure. Your beloved betrothed often has issues with how you dress, the issues specifically relating to the sparse coverage the fabric provides your body.

“A dress.” You say. “ You know, kepus, with how much people drawl on about how clever you are, I would have expected you’d recognise the garment.”

“I don’t believe most people would consider that even half a dress, riñītsos.” little girl. “Change.”

Ever since you were engaged, Aemond has made a habit of ordering you around. Neither of you enjoy the arrangement but since he is a handful of years older, and a man, your uncle has decided that you must adhere to being the perfect little wife.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember the marriage bells tolling. So why are you commanding me as if I am your wife?” You ask defiantly.

“Because you are a brat who doesn’t know what’s good for you. Princesses don’t go around dressed like common whores. When you become my wife, I will not tolerate such behaviour.” He says to you and you try not to giggle at how he attempts to flaunt his power when you know for a fact that he is pitching a tent in his pants at the same time.

“Of course, uncle.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone before walking off to where the jousts are happening, with no intention of changing your gown on the way.

~~~

Ser Brandon, that’s the name of the cunt you give your favour to. Aemond likes to think that for duty’s sake, you’d give him your favour if he’d competed. But he knows that you give about as many shits about duty as he does tourneys.

You smile at Ser Brandon and giggle at him flirtatiously before you toss him the wreath of flowers. Aemond pays close attention to the way your breasts are pushed up as you bend over the railing and say something only loud enough for the knight to hear. The encounter fills his whole body with lust and rage.

“What did you say to him?” Baela asks you, ever the gossip.

“I told him that if he won, then i’d give him much more than my favour.” You say and Baela gasps at the scandal as you both giggle about it together.

Your uncle’s blood boils. Surely you didn’t intend for him to hear that? But he knows how you are and he knows just how to put you in your place.

~~~

You jump as the door to the library bursts open. “Everyone out!” Aemond shouts and the few occupants leave, quickly obeying the angry prince. Not you though; you know the demand didn’t extend to you.

“My my, uncle. What has irked you so?” You ask him in a condescendingly sweet tone as you rise from your chair.

He strides over to you and grabs you by the chin and you gasp softly. “Do you think that you can make a fool out of me, niece?”

“I must misunderstand you. I would never try to make you look foolish.” You reply calmly.

“Hmm… then why did you offer to fuck another man right in front of me?” He asks, matching your calm tone which makes you nervous enough to drop your eyes. His hand moves to the back of your head and he grips your hair tightly at the roots, pulling your head back so that you have to look up at him. “Look at me when I speak to you.”

“Let me go.” You pout a little and grasp at his arms in an attempt to make him release you. He yanks your hair harder and you aren’t sure if you moan in pain or pleasure.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” He says seriously. “Do you understand? No other man will touch you.”

You stay defiantly silent.

“I will make you understand then.” You don’t have a chance to contemplate what he means before he drags you to the nearest table in the library and bends you over it.

“What in the seven hells are you doing?! Let me up now!”

“Be quiet now, riñītsos. We wouldn’t want to draw anyone in when you’re in such a state, now would we?” He says as he pins your hands behind your back with one hand and unbuckles his belt with the other. “Do you know what i’m going to do to you with this?” He asks as he places the belt on the table and lifts your skirts. “Do you know how common girls are punished when they’re naughty?”

“Aemond don’t!” Your protests are met by a whip across your ass by the belt.

“I told you to be quiet. I have been far too lenient with you and now it’s time for proper punishment.” He spanks you again with the belt and you whimper but don’t say anything this time.

He pulls your smallclothes down so you’re bare from the waist down and you squirm at the embarrassment of your handsome uncle disciplining you in such a way. He admires the way your cunny is glistening with wetness.

“Let me go you bastard!” You say, humiliated by your own arousal.

“Oh do you like this, riñītsos? Do you like it when your uncle gives you what you deserve?” He gives you another swat with the belt and the pain intensifies with the lack of protection your smallclothes provided.

“I’m sorry.” You whine out softly, trying to end the punishment but he continues. “I promise I would’ve never let him touch me.” He scoffs at your words and you feel him roughly bind your wrists together with the belt.

The sound of his dagger being unsheathed rings through the air. “If he ever comes near you again, i’ll slit his fucking throat.” He cuts your dress from halfway up the bodice down to the hem so he doesn’t have to hold it up anymore. You then hear him fiddling with his trousers. “He will know who you belong to soon enough, when your belly swells with my babe inside of it.”

“No you canno-” You begin to struggle and protest when you hear what he says but your words are cut off when his thick cock is thrust into you and he quickly sets a tempestuous rhythm, fucking in and out of you like you are nothing more than a cock sleeve. He grips your hair roughly and yanks your head back so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Do you know what i’m doing to you right now? I’m ruining you. Nobody will have you after this but me.” His hips continue to meet yours and you let out a little moan. “I’m going to fill you with my seed everyday for the rest of your life. Any stranger who comes by will know you’re mine when they see our silver haired children clutching at your skirts. The children I put inside of you.”

His cock continues to slam into you mercilessly and you can do nothing except lie there and take it.

“Kepus…” You breathe out when you feel yourself steadily climbing to your peak.

“Gods, you’re gripping me like a vice. So much big talk for a girl with a virgin cunt.” He laughs at you and gives your ass another slap. “It’s okay, riñītsos. I’m going to fill you now, fill you nice and deep.” He gives a few more slower thrusts before spending himself inside of you, the feeling of his cum filling you causing you to reach your own peak as well.

He lets you rest for a moment as you breathe heavily before he unties you but only so he can put his belt back on and make himself look presentable. He tosses his cloak to you so that you might cover yourself.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, niece. I shall speak to your mother about us marrying on the morrow.” He says as he walks to the door. “Oh and one more thing. Don’t even think about drinking moontea.”

taglist(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd #aemond #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond targryen smut

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myladysapphire · 1 year

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His Sapphire Princess (I)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,866

CW: mummy issues, childish teasing, incest

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire charecters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all charecters are his except for my OC

Visenya

Her mother was once again in labour. Visenya was the eldest of three. With two brothers and two uncles, she often found herself surrounded by boys. Her Aunt Heleana was often her only escape and even then, bugs seemed more interesting to her. She had longed for a baby sister and loved the idea of dressing her up like a doll and teaching her everything she knew. She often felt lonely, her brothers were often off with their eldest Uncle Aegon, trying their hardest to impress him. She missed the days when they longed for her satisfaction or happiness over any task, she asked them to do. And now they focused their attention on tormenting her other Uncle Aemond.

Aemond was her dearest friend, having both had eggs that didn't hatch in the cradle they found a way to bond through that. And later their love for the histories of old Valyria and learning High Valyrian.

One was never without the other, that was until she finally claimed her dragon.

When she was six, she went to Dragonstone for the first time. There she made it her mission to claim a dragon. She did not mind which, but she was determined to do so. Having given up much sooner than Aemond on her egg ever hatching, she concluded that she would claim a dragon, and if Aemond wished, she would happily share a dragon with him.

It was no easy feat, she snuck off in the dead of night and rode on horseback (a horse double her size, barely hanging on for dear life) to the dragon mount. Nine dragons resided on Dragonstone, her mother's; Syrax, her brothers; Vermax and Arrax, her father's; Seasmoke, the three wild dragons; Sheepstealer, Greyghost and the cannibal (though she would never think of attempting to claim them), and then there was Vermithor and Silverwing. She believed her best bets were lied with one of them, wild dragons being far too risky for a mere child. There were also several hatchlings and young dragons, but she wanted a grown one. A dragon to strike fear and build her respect.

She was a princess and the heir to the iron throne, after her mother. And riding a dragon fit for a king or a queen is a sure-fire way to build her some support, if not fear to stop any usurpation.

So, when she came face to face with Vermithor, she knew he would be hers.

She sang him a Valyrian lullaby, A song her mother often sang to one of her brothers. She almost giggled at the motion, the bronze fury, wooed by a lullaby. But she had heard stories of dragons being lulled into submission by a song, she hoped it would attract his attention, and lure him out.

It did.

Though she did not anticipate him letting a monstrous roar into her face, a fire built in his throat.

"Umbagon, gīda"

Wait, calm.

He stopped, his head lowered, sniffing her. She refused to show her fear, refused to cry. "Dohaerās" she stuttered.

Serve

His head lowered further, edging closer to her face. He sniffed her, letting out a grumble. "Dohaerās" she let out again, this time her voice firm.

His body lowered; his face approached hers. She reached her hand out to stroke him, rubbing at his nose.

"kessa ao ivestragī nyke kipagon ao?" she questioned, hand still stroking him.

will you let me ride you?

His eyes homed in on her, taking in her every movement. Assessing her.

He moved his head forward gently, softly nuzzling her, or at least as much as a dragon could. She took that as a yes and moved forward slowly. Her hand not leaving him. whether to reassure her or him, she did not know. She stoked along his side gently. Moving forward to the ladder to his saddle.

"ok" she muttered to herself, reaching forward to grab the ladder "don't fall, don't fall" she moved up slowly, holding her breath. Making it onto the saddle, he let out a slight shake. Not enough to throw her off, but enough to hurry up. It seemed as if Vermithor was eager to let his new mount fly him.

She sat down slowly, grabbing the reins, "sōvegon".

fly

His ascension was fast, somewhat graceful. Unlike her mother's dragon, he did not glide into the air, sweet and graceful. No Vermithor flew. He flapped his wings to their full length, showing off his size and power. Vermithor wanted to dominate the sky and show his power. He was loud, roaring as if to announce his presence. At first, she thought it was to strike fear and warn other dragons off, but by the quick company of Silverwing, she knew it was a call.

The mated dragons roared upon each other's presence. And then they began to sing. They moved around each other, their voices echoing their movements.

They flew and moved around each other.

She realised then that with one came the other. Much like she and Aemond, perhaps he could claim Silverwing. And they could be like their first riders, she hoped.

She wasn't sure how long they flew, by the time she had even claimed Vermithor the sun had begun to rise, and her parents must be starting to worry. But she could not find it in her to care. They landed outside the entrances to the castle and were quickly greeted by her parents.

"Muña, Kepa" she shouted in greeting. "I claimed him, Muña" she let out excitedly.

"I saw, my love." Her mother spoke, her tone wavering between stern and happy. She knew her mother could not stay mad at her for long, especially with how happy she was.

Her father let out a laugh, "We saw, sweetheart, but you can't keep sneaking out" he tried to say sternly, though his pride shone through his eyes.

"I know, it won't happen again" she muttered, lying.

"hmm" her mother spoke, clearly not believing it "you know, when you lie you look at your feet"

"sorry" she squeaked out, before seeing Jace, her younger brother (by ten moons) run out.

"Senya!" he shouted.

"Did you see? Did you see?" she asked excitedly, as Jace ran up to her and hugged her.

"Yes! Can you take me riding?" he questioned excitedly, Vermax being only four was nowhere near large enough to ride.

"of course," she spoke quickly wrapping her arms around him and spinning in a circle.

Her mother cleared her throat "not until you are older" she spoke " and you missy, will have to hold off on the riding until the dragon masters deem you ready".

Shouts of discontent rang between the two children, "but you claimed Syrax was around my age, and you were allowed to ride her!"

"Yes, but Syrax was much smaller, and Vermithor is much bigger" her mother spoke, pride in her tone when speaking of her dragon.

Visenya only hoped for a bond like her mother and her dragon had.

Ever since claiming her dragon Aemond had tried to distance himself from her. His jealousy strong and their relationship. But she refused to put up with Aemonds actions. Dragging him along with her to meet Vermithor, trying to get Silverwing to bond with him. She did not, but the notion alone made all jealousy he felt disappear. She continued in her efforts to find him a dragon to claim, and whenever he wanted, she would take him out on Vermithor.

If the people of KingsLanding thought, they were close before, then this was a whole new thing.

Alicent, her grandmother, had always liked her. Found her sweet and adored how she cared for Aemond.

Everyone in KingsLanding enjoyed the young princess.

They did not however like her brothers.

At first, she didn't understand, still believing that Ser Laenor was their father. That was until she met Ser Harwin strong. Seeing the way her mother looked at him, the way he looked towards Jace and Luke. The way he had taken her under his wing also and treated her as if she were his own. She knew he was her brother's father, not hers. But neither was Laenor. But she still loved him like he was and treated him as if he was. She was his favourite (another reason for the court to believe she was his) and she was always by his side, and always felt such sorrow when he went off to battle in the steppestones.

She did feel some envy of her brothers, though Ser Harwin loved her as much as he did her brothers, even sneaking off to teach her how to defend herself and swordplay, she could not shake the feeling of jealousy.

Her mother, as much as she loved her, always had a look of resentment when she saw her. She assumed it was because she looked like her father. A man she had no idea who he was a man she could only assume her mother loved. Her mother favoured her brothers, she knew it, lived with it, and resented it. All because she looked like a man whom she had never met. Though being named her mother's heir did quench some of the envy she felt, it still wasn't enough.

Her mother may always be there for her, that was no lie. But unlike with her brothers, there was a hesitance to it.

That was another reason why she wanted a sister, perhaps a sister would understand why she felt the way she did and be treated the same as she was.

But she understood she wouldn't be, no her siblings would all come from a man who loved her mother, and her mother loved back. A man who stuck around.

So, when she overheard, she had a brother, no surprise was seen on her face as she understood nothing would change. That she would be fourth on her mother's list of priorities.

Loved just as much as her brothers, but a hesitance to it.

"Muña" she called, walking down the hallway, towards her mother's chambers.

She had promised her mother she would be there for the birth, wanting to act as support and learn one day what would be a part of her own life (a fact her mother never let her forget).

She ran up to her, quick to greet her new baby brother, her brothers will be very pleased. Her father quickly appeared from another entrance, causing her to run straight into him "ugh, Kepa! Watch where you are going" she groaned, rubbing her nose

He chuckled softly "sorry, little love"

"My, my what happened to you!" her mother exclaimed, "if memory, serves you'd said you'd be her for the birth of the babe?"

She offered a sheepish smile, "Sorry mother, Vermithor wanted to go flying, ask him yourself" nodding her head, it was true to some degree, she wanted to go flying and Vermithor was more than eager to comply.

Her mother hummed in response.

"A boy! I've just heard" her father finally spoke, happily.

"Yes," mother said through pained breaths.

"Can I name him, this time mama?" she said begged. She had a very long list of names and was more than prepared to give her brother a fitting name. as much as she loved Jace and Luke, she hated their names.

Her father patted her head and said "it's up to you mother, love" before turning to her "well done, where are you going?"

"She wants to see him." Her mother hissed, walking shakily up the stairs.

She?

Alicent?

She Shook her head, Alicent had four babes of her own, surely she understands how painful birth is. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she was getting too old. She was a grandmother after all!

"Now? I'm coming with you"

"Me too!"

"I should hope so," her mother remarked, bitterly.

"Can I hold him, Muña?" she asked, seeing her mother struggling.

Her mother looked down at her and nodded, grateful for the small rest it gave her "of course, my sweet girl"

Her father quickly offered her his arm, which was taken gratefully.

She looked down at her brother, he had the same nose as Luke, brown hair and what she could make out brown eyes. A shame. She had hoped for at least one silver-haired sibling. She was starting to feel like the odd one out.

"Was it terribly painful"

Both mother and daughter turned to look at the other and rolled their eyes.

"I took a lance through the shoulder once," he remarked, unaware of his wife and daughter's actions.

"My deepest sympathies" her mother hissed.

She was completely enchanted with her newest brother, despite his plain features, and simply choose to ignore her father and his attempts at comforting her mother, giving the babe forehead kisses, and cooing at how cute he was, but stopped upon realising he was covered in blood let out a disgusted snort. Her mother chuckled thinking it was directed at her father.

The halls were crowded with court members. Awaiting to see the newest prince. some to see if her mother had had another child sired by her father or another bastard.

Stopping for several members of the court to offer their congratulations to her mother before reaching the queen's chambers. She handed over her brother before bidding her parents farewell.

Whatever was about to happen, she had no desire to see.

And spotting Aemond walking through the corridors meant she didn't want to stick around for much longer.

"AEMOND!" she shouted, running up to him "I have another brother!"

He rolled his eyes, an action he tried to keep from her "hmmm" he said, not caring too much. She and he were walking down the corridor heading towards her family chambers.

"Congratulations Visenya! Oh, that's great news Visenya!" she mocked, putting on a deeper voice.

"Ha Ha, very funny" he spoke, unamused. Arms crossed.

"What does it even matter? Aren't they just another bas-"

"Do NOT-" she interrupted him; a stern look on her face. "They are my brothers, and that is all that matters" she spoke, tone hard, tired of Aemond's attitude. "If you're going to speak about this is will take my leave" she stared him down. Not at wanting to leave. Aemond always apologised, he hated it when he received the silent treatment from her and was often quick to apologise to prevent it.

"Sorry, Senya" he looked down. "what's his name?"

"I don't know, I have ideas, but mother probably won't listen to them!" she let out frustrated "it'll probably be some stupid name like Rhacearys or something!"

They had come up to her family chambers now, the door opened as Ser Harwin and her brothers walked in placing a dragon egg in a fire hearth inside.

"Brothers!" she exclaimed, walking in. Aemond stood by the doorway hesitant to enter.

"princess" Harwin greeted with a warm smile.

"Hello Harwin" she replied, hugging him.

"Senya" both her brothers exclaimed, before moving their eyes to Aemond "uncle," they said curtly, before looking at each other and giggling. Oh, they were up to something!

"Perhaps I should go" Aemond mumbled, moving to leave.

"I – but" she stuttered out, sad, he wanted to leave "I'll see you later? In our secret spot" she whispered the last part, winking terribly as she did so.

Aemond went to laugh but stopped after seeing something over her shoulder. Her brothers most likely. "of course," he mumbled.

"WAIT!" she ran up to him, giving him a quick hug. "BYE!"

Not long after his exit her mother and father entered the room, stopping her from confronting her brothers about whatever their plans with Aemond were.

"Mother look, we choose an egg for the baby" Jace spoke, as their mother moved to sit.

"That looks like the perfect one" she agreed, finally sitting in the chair to rest, as the cover on the eggs pot was lifted.

"We let Luke choose" Jace admitted, as Luke grew a proud smile and thanked him.

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragon pit, princess. I thought it best to escort the lads" Harwin spoke up, his eyes drawn to the babe in her father's arms.

"Laenor and I thank you, commander".

"Another boy, I heard. What a fine knight you are going to make, yes?" Harwin spoke towards the babe.

She stood by her father, looking down at the babe. He had been cleaned up since she last saw him. Much less blood.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey"

"Joffrey?" she questioned, looking between her mother and father "my list had much better names!"

"shush, now," her father whispered, patting her head and moving the babe into ser Harwin's arms.

"wasn't that your friend's name?" she questioned, looking at her father.

He gulped and nodded "Oh! Ok, it's fine then. I forgive you!" she exclaimed. Though she still hoped for a chance to rename him to something much better.

"Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" Luke spoke, trying to grab Joffrey out of Harwin's arms.

Their father tutted, moving her brothers and herself away, dismissing them to their dragon pit lessons.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Carrion Flowers

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Ceryse Stone) Warnings: Cartomancy/tarot/fortune telling, mentions of death, smut. Word count: ~4k

Summary: Annoyed after offering to help seek out his older brother, Aegon, Aemond wanders into the tent of a fortune teller in Flea Bottom to seek out information. He gets much more than he bargains for. Based on this request.

Artwork by the insanely talented @cyeco13

Ceryse drums her ring covered fingers on the cloth covered table top, her green eyes scanning over the tarot deck spread out in front of her for what feels like the hundredth time that afternoon. It has been a slow day in Flea Bottom. Were it not for the merciful relief from the blazing sun that her tent provides, she'd have packed up and gone home hours ago. The only people that have ducked under the canvas so far have been opportunistic drunks looking for somewhere private to pass water, or lost merchants seeking out directions.

She sighs as an intrusion of sunlight casts her in momentary brightness, before darkening once more. The movement of the opening causes the candlelight to flicker. She doesn't bother to look up, she hasn't had a customer all day.

"I'm looking for a man." A smooth, even voice says.

"Pleasure house is that way." She huffs tiredly, half heartedly casting her forefinger in the general direction of the Street of Silk, the movement causing the bangles that adorn her slender wrist to clatter together, as her gaze remains on her cards.

"It's information I'm after, actually."

She looks up, pushing the waves of her long auburn hair from her face in order to take a better look at her insistent visitor. The tall figure is having to stoop to prevent his head from hitting the peaked roof. He exhales heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring in obvious annoyance.

She'd recognise that face anywhere; the eyepatch, the scar. It is Prince Aemond Targaryen that stands before her. He is trying to disguise his identity, though doing a poor job.

The clasp holding his cloak together costs more than she makes in an entire year. She bites back a laugh thinking about how stiflingly hot he must feel in all those layers.

"Information?" She muses nonchalantly, hiding her recognition. "That will cost you a silver."

He hesitates, narrowing his eye and pursing his lips. "A silver? My lady, you are attempting to extort a Prince!"

"A Prince?" Ceryse rests her chin on her hands, regarding him with amusement. "Well, why didn't you say sooner? In that case, for you, it's two silvers."

“I do not have time for this.” Aemond seethes, turning to leave.

“I’ll throw in a free reading?” She offers, her tone saccharinely sweet.

“No.” He says icily, pulling back the tent flap.

“Suit yourself. Good luck finding your brother!” She retorts cheerfully.

He turns, looking at her incredulously as he’s about to crouch back through the way he came. “How did you-”

“Goodbye, Prince Aemond.” She calls out airily, returning her focus to the fanned out cards on her table.

He leaves with a haughty huff.

Ceryse smiles to herself. Aemond has provided welcome amusement on an otherwise dreary afternoon. She spends the rest of the day half wondering to herself if he’ll send the Gold Cloaks after her for her insolence, though when early evening rolls around and she begins to pack down for the day, she is relieved that he has not.

The sky is awash with purple and orange hues as the sun sets, and she is placing the last of her tent poles into a linen sack when Aemond approaches once more. She straightens, eyeing him with levity as he stalks towards her.

“You know you’re fooling no one with that silly cloak.” She laughs.

He ignores her comment, though she notices the tight line his lips press into. “I would like a reading.” He tells her matter of factly.

“Couldn’t find your brother?”

“No, we found him, but…you knew I was looking for him. Your powers of divination must be strong.”

She gives a wry smile, shaking her head. “‘Tis no divine magic. Prince Aegon frequents this little corner of King’s Landing. I’ve chased him out of my tent more than once for trying to piss in it. It wasn’t hard to guess who you sought.”

Aemond appears to consider this for a moment, his gaze downcast. “I’d still like a reading.” He states, meeting her eye.

“I’ve packed down for the day already.” She gestures towards the bags around her feet.

“I’m willing to pay. Double what you asked; four silvers.”

Ceryse’s eyes go wide. She wouldn’t have to work for an entire week with that sort of coin, she’d be a fool to refuse him. “Very well.” She nods. “You can accompany me home and I’ll do it there. The sun is setting and this isn’t a place it’s wise to be once night falls.”

She picks up the largest of the bags, containing the tent canvas and poles, and thrusts it into Aemond’s arms. “Might as well make yourself useful.” She smirks, collecting up the rest of her things.

Aemond adjusts the bag in his arms, looking affronted at having been asked to carry it. “Who helps you with this usually?"

“Nobody. Us small folk don’t have servants to fetch and carry for us. I load that onto my back and carry the other two in my hands.”

“Hmm.”

They walk through the winding, cobblestoned streets of Flea Bottom for a few moments in silence, until Aemond decides to speak. “I didn’t ask you your name.”

“You didn’t.” Comes Ceryse’s clipped reply.

“You are infuriating.” Aemond mutters.

She giggles, looking sideways at him. “My name is Ceryse.”

“Might I know your last name?”

She hesitates a moment, sighing. “Stone.”

“Hmm. A bastard of the Vale.” He muses.

“Does that offend you?” She eyes him curiously as they continue walking.

“No, it’s just-”

“A bastard put out your eye.”

“That is treason.” He states coolly.

“Do you care?”

“I suppose not.”

She stops once they reach a row of single storey houses all on a slant. They are packed tightly together and look as though the slightest breeze could topple them over. She approaches the one on the end, setting her bags down and unlocking the door.

“Here we are.” She announces, stepping over the threshold and moving to the side to allow Aemond in.

He has to duck to get through the doorway and once inside the sight of this towering hooded man in her humble abode feels like a fever dream. She watches as he takes in his surroundings. She has never felt resentful of the little she has, but now, seeing the face of royalty cast their gaze around the cramped space she inhabits, she can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Her bed is unmade, and her belongings litter every available surface.

“You have a lovely home.” Aemond says stiffly.

“You’re a horrible liar.” Ceryse snaps back.

“Where should I..?” He hefts the tent bag in his arms, looking at her questioningly.

“Oh, just stick that anywhere!” She says with a shrug, masking her shame as she sets her own bags down, and begins rummaging for her deck of cards. “So you wanted a reading?”

Aemond unfastens his cloak, taking it off and folding it carefully. “Yes. Where shall I put this?”

She takes it from him, throwing it onto the bed, then sets the cards down on a small wooden table that sits at the end of it.

He raises his eyebrows in shock. “Do you have wine?”

“No, too expensive. I’ve got ale though.”

She moves towards the little area that serves as her kitchen, snatching up a clay bottle from the side. Pulling the cork out with her teeth, she fills two mugs before handing one to Aemond.

He accepts it with a quiet thanks, sniffing it apprehensively before taking a sip. His nose immediately wrinkles in disgust.

“Not to your liking, my Prince?” Ceryse asks with a grin.

He coughs slightly, shaking his head. “That is vile.”

She chuckles, moving back towards the table. She seats herself on the end of the bed, gesturing a hand towards the sole stool situated at the other side.

Aemond sits, looking comically too large for the rickety wooden furniture. “So, how does this work?”

“Payment first.” She reminds him. “The drink is free, no need to throw in extra for that.”

For the first time that day he smiles, genuine mirth tugging at the corners of his mouth. Fishing four silvers from his coin purse, he deposits them onto the table, then takes another swig from his mug with a grimace.

Ceryse pockets the coins then shuffles the deck of cards. “What is it you wish to know?”

Aemond licks his lips nervously, his voice lowering as though he is afraid he’ll be overheard. “Am I to be King?”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Is your father dead?”

“Yes…I should not be telling you this.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I shan’t tell a soul, but what of his heir, Rhaenyra?”

“My mother has plans to crown Aegon instead. His coronation is tomorrow.”

Ceryse inhales sharply. She is no fool, that is as good as a declaration of war. “So what makes you think you will be King?”

“My brother does not want the crown, furthermore he is not fit to rule.”

“I see.” She spreads the cards out in a fanned formation on the table between them, her jewelry clinking together as she moves her palm over them, waiting to feel the warmth of the one she should pluck out first. As heat tingles her fingers, she snatches it up, laying the card face up in the centre of the wooden surface.

The Tower.

A snap of jaws. Bones crunching. A dragon and its rider falling from the sky.

Ceryse startles from her vision, meeting Aemond’s worried stare. “There will be a terrible accident, it will change the course of everything.”

“Does it involve me?” He asks.

“Truthfully, I do not know. I didn’t see enough.”

Aemond takes a deep breath, nodding for her to continue.

She passes her hand over the cards again, selecting one once she feels a prickle of hotness.

The Magician.

Aemond sits upon the Iron Throne. He wears an iron and ruby crown.

“You will rule as King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Aemond’s eye widens. “What of Aegon?”

“I do not know. There is one more card to draw still.”

“Go on then.”

She picks it up as soon as she feels the subtle warmth.

The Hanged Man.

Aemond plunges into water. He is chained to his dragon. A sword is plunged through his seeing eye.

Ceryse’s gasps, her hand shaking as she lets the card flutter loosely from between her fingers.

“What is it? What did you see?!” Aemond demands.

She hesitates. When she’d learned her craft in Braavos one of the first rules she’d been taught with regards to divination is to never disclose the nature of a person’s death to them, should she happen to see it.

“I saw nothing.” She lies. “The card means sacrifice, release, martyrdom. You will serve Westeros well.”

“I think it is you who is the horrible liar.” He stares pointedly at her. “Tell me what you saw.”

“I saw nothing.” She repeats, her voice raising as her heart hammers in her chest. She puts the silvers back on the tabletop. “I couldn’t complete your reading fully. Take this back and go.”

He leaves the coins where they are, but stands and retrieves his cloak from the bed. “I bid you goodnight, Ceryse.” He nods at her as he moves towards the door. “Perhaps I shall return another time for the rest of my reading.”

“Do not come back here.” She urges, rising from the edge of the mattress and ushering him into the street.

She leans heavily against the door after closing it on him, the image of his lifeless body sinking downwards branded into her mind.

True to Aemond’s word, the next day brings about the coronation of Aegon Targaryen. Watching through her window, as the crowds filter through the streets towards the Sept, fills Ceryse with an eerie feeling. She will not join them. Nothing good will come of this. They are doomed to a terrible fate and she wants no part of it. She thinks back to how she had seen Aemond smile the previous evening and wonders how many more times he will feel such genuine happiness before his life is cruelly snuffed out.

The almighty crash, followed by a dragon’s roar that echoes through the city causes her to jump, and she knows she was right to avoid going to the sept. The distant screams of the smallfolk are a stark reminder of how easily her life could have been taken from her. She wonders if Aemond is okay, whether today will be the day that he meets the fate she foresaw.

It is early evening when she hears a knock at the door. She pulls it open and there he stands, dressed in the same ridiculously obvious disguise from yesterday; Aemond.

“I told you not to come back.” She says flatly.

“I know.” He shifts awkwardly. “I just…I went to look for you after the coronation and I couldn’t see your tent in Flea Bottom. I thought-”

“I didn’t go.” She interrupts.

“I can see that. I’m glad you’re alright.” He replies, relaxing slightly.

She smiles softly. “I’m glad you are too.”

“Does that mean I can visit you?”

She rolls her eyes. “On one condition; you don’t ask for any more readings or for me to elaborate any further on the one you already had.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“And it’s a long walk back to the Red Keep. Off you go.”

He smiles that smile again and she finds herself returning it, a warmth spreading through her chest.

She invites him inside and they while away the evening, drinking more of the ale that makes Aemond wince in distaste as he tells her all that happened at Aegon’s coronation. She hears about the tears he saw on his brother’s cheeks as he walked through the sept, about how Rhaenys had burst through the floor on the back of Meleys and had now surely made her way to Dragonstone to swear allegiance to Rhaenyra.

Ceryse listens in silent horror. She feels anguish for the lives needlessly lost over Rhaenys’ arrogant urge to make a statement, and dread gnaws at her insides over the war she knows will stem from the rivalry for the Iron Throne. She knows if she had any sense she’d push Aemond from her home and make sure he never returns, nothing good can come from inviting this man into her life. She cannot escape the image of his death, and yet she is drawn to him all the same.

He eventually leaves her home under the cover of darkness, with a promise to return soon. It is an unlikely friendship, a fortune teller and a Prince, but she enjoys his company and he seems to like hers too.

He returns two nights later, a bottle of Dornish red in hand.

“I thought we might indulge in something a little more refined than that swill you call ale.” He tells her.

It is viscous and sweet, subtly spiced. The flavours dance on her tongue and she is certain she has never tasted anything more exquisite.

“It’ll do.” She shrugs, and there it is once more; the slight curve of his smile. Her heart flutters, though she is certain it’s the effects of the wine.

They chat idly for a while, until Aemond grows solemn. “This will be my last visit.” He tells her quietly.

“Oh?” She feels her chest tighten. She knows she will have to let him go eventually, but hadn’t anticipated ending their friendship so soon.

“I am to fly to Storm’s End tomorrow. My mother wishes for me to marry one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters, in order to strengthen Aegon’s claim to the Iron Throne.”

She nods, the acrid heat of jealousy blooming down her throat and into her chest. She despises the sensation, swallowing thickly in an attempt to rid herself of it. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, neither one of them knowing quite what to say.

“I suppose I should go.” Aemond finally decides.

Ceryse stands to see him out. He turns to her as opens the door.

“Would you let me kiss you? Just to say goodbye. I-I can’t face never seeing you again and not knowing what it is to taste your lips.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Aemond, I’m sorry.”

He bows his head sadly, glancing up at her one final time before turning and walking away.

She closes the door, knowing in her heart she has made the right choice. She knows that the moment his lips touch hers she will beg him to stay, but he is not hers to keep. Their destinies are not entwined.

Life carries on as normal for Ceryse. Setting up her tent each day in Flea Bottom, before packing it down again and returning home at dusk.

Three days after Aemond leaves her he returns to her. He stands at her door soaking wet, his right eye rimmed red with tears.

“I-I didn’t know where else to go.”

She ushers him inside, stripping him of his wet clothes and hanging them in front of the small fireplace.

“May I stay here?” He sounds fragile, like a frightened child. “I cannot return home. Not yet.”

She nods, passing him a blanket to wrap himself in as he sits in front of the fire in his braies and undershirt. “What happened?”

He simply shakes his head, wet silver hair hanging in his face.

He doesn’t need to say it, but she knows it has happened. The Tower.

They share the space of her tiny bed that night, and Aemond clings to her like she is a lifeline. She isn’t sure if he ever actually falls asleep, his breathing never deepens or relaxes, and he remains rigid against her despite the embrace he holds her in.

As the first soft rays of sunlight begin to stream through the small window, she rolls to face him. His seeing eye is closed, and his patch has slipped away from the one that bears his scar. She studies it intently, she had heard rumours that Prince Aemond wore a sapphire in his empty eye socket, but had never seen it for herself. It catches the light, shimmering brightly. She traces her finger delicately along the ragged line that mars his cheek and he grumbles, rolling to face her and pulling her tightly against him.

“Does it not bother you?” He asks groggily.

“No, you wear it well.” She replies honestly.

They lay together, the steady rhythm of their combined breathing the only sound in the room, until finally she builds up the courage to ask. “Aemond, why are you here?”

He closes his eye, inhaling shakily and it is only then that she notices he is trembling. “Aemond?”

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled. “You saw it, didn’t you? You said there’d be a terrible accident.”

She strokes a hand comfortingly through his hair. “I saw parts. What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to do it.” His voice cracks. “I only meant to scare him.”

A snap of jaws. Bones crunching. A dragon and its rider falling from the sky.

“Oh, Aemond.” She says sadly. “Who was it?”

“My nephew, Lucerys. The one that took my eye.”

There will be a terrible accident, it will change the course of everything.

“You have to go back, you must deal with this.” She tells him.

“I will.” He sniffles. “I will, just…not now. I want to feel anything but this, if only for a moment.”

He presses forward and his lips are upon hers. She kisses him back, his tears wetting her cheeks, wanting to give him a fleeting moment of happiness amidst his turmoil. The moment intensifies as their tongues meet and he pulls her on top of him before sitting up, her legs falling either side of his waist.

She gasps as his mouth moves from hers to trail white hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck, and she wonders where a man of such good breeding learned to commit such sinful acts. Her fingers tangle into his silver locks as he tugs down her shift to reveal her breasts, mouthing at them before sucking a hardened peak into his mouth. Arousal pools between her legs as she feels herself involuntarily grinding against him, his own desire more than evident through the thin cotton of his undergarments.

“Aemond, we shouldn’t…” She says breathlessly, as his hand moves beneath her hem and up her thigh.

“I know.” He responds in a whisper. “But I do not have the willpower to stop.”

Her jaw goes slack as she feels his fingers move through the slick that has collected between her legs. A noise akin to a growl rumbles from the depths of his throat.

He withdraws his hand, freeing his cock and before Ceryse can stop herself she is sinking down onto it, moaning quietly at the gratifying stretch, as Aemond grits his teeth, his grip on her tightening.

He pulls her in for another passionate kiss, as she plants her feet flat on the bed, using the purchase to aid in meeting each of his upward thrusts. She wraps her arms around his neck and his mouth returns to her chest as he fucks up into her. Their pace is hurried and full of desperate need.

Ceryse’s hand drifts between her legs, circling her pearl as her and Aemond’s hips move together. Her other hand returns to his hair, her grip tightening as she feels her impending climax and he lets out a feral groan, releasing her nipple with a wet pop.

“I am not going to last…” He murmurs.

She nods, the familiar tightness coiling itself in her lower belly. “I won’t either.”

Speeding up her ministrations, she pushes herself over the edge, clenching around Aemond as she cries out in ecstasy, feeling light headed as every nerve ending comes alive. He is not far behind, pulling out and spilling ropes of pearly spend across her thighs and lower belly with a relieved grunt.

They collapse next to each other, both panting for breath. As the rush of euphoria wears off, reality sets in and a deep, aching sense of dread overwhelms Ceryse. She is certain Aemond feels it too, as he tenses up beside her.

“Will you really not tell me what you saw in the final card?” He asks solemnly.

She gulps. “It wouldn’t change anything. It’s better that you don’t know.”

He rises from the bed, dressing in silence, and she does the same.

“I won’t forget you.” He whispers, cupping her cheeks and pressing his forehead to hers, once he is ready to leave.

“Nor will I forget you.” She answers softly. “But I mean it this time, you cannot come back.”

“I know.” He says sadly.

He gives her one final soft kiss on the lips, before walking away. Ceryse turns away, unwilling to watch him go.

In the days that follow, Ceryse decides it is best if she leaves King’s Landing behind for good. Lucky for her, she has spent little of Aemond’s four silvers and is able to afford passage on a ship departing to Braavos, the city in which she learned the art of divination. She is eager to be away from Westeros before the war begins in earnest. She does not want to be on the continent as it burns and crumbles, and she cannot bear the thought of being there the moment that Aemond ceases to be.

As she stands on the sole of the ship, the wind whipping her auburn hair around her head, she pulls the Hanged Man from her pocket, watching it flutter in the breeze before she lets go, her final tie to the One Eyed Prince. She watches as it floats on the surface of the water before sinking downward, much as she has watched Aemond do the same.

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