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elaratyrell · 7 months

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Daemon Targaryen x Fem! Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon {Lessons In Lovemaking}

*All images found on Pinterest*

Requested By: @thatsgayyouknow

Warnings: Threesome, double penetration, unprotected sex, piv sex, anal, vaginal and anal fingering, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, language, use of kepa, Jace's monster dick, Daemon is technically cheating on Rhaenyra, drinking... I think that's it... this is pure filth *Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Request/Synopsis: “Hi I was wondering if you could do something where Daemon is helping show Jace how to please his lover. If you could possibly fill it with has much smut as possible and maybe even do it where the reader takes both of them at the same time.”

A/N: Reader is described as having Valyrian ancestors but this won't affect their appearance as it was hundreds of years ago

*Not fully proof read*

You had been feeling eyes on you all evening.

You were slowly growing used to the feeling of being watched during banquets like this, what with being married to Prince Jacaerys for several moons now. Being the Princess of Dragonstone came with its share of benefits and disadvantages, it seemed.

But this time it felt different.

Amongst the stares of the various high lords and nobles of the kingdom trying to get a look at their new princess, there was one that felt like it was burning straight through you. It was a hungry, intense gaze.

One with lustful intentions.

And it wasn’t coming from your husband.

Your gaze travelled to where that piercing look was coming from, your eyes locking with a pair of lilac ones.

Your father in law, Daemon Targaryen, had his eyes locked on you ever since you'd sat down.

Occasionally, his gaze flickered over to his wife, Rhaenyra, murmuring an agreement to whatever she was saying or pressing a kiss to her palm, but otherwise it was entirely focused on you.

You were dressed in a deep red gown with black lace detailing. Half of your hair was twisted into a braid crown and pinned back, a tiara of gold and rubies adorning your head.

You were every bit a Targaryen princess.

The match with Jacaerys arose due to your family, along with having Valyrian ancestry, bending the knee for Rhaenyra and supporting her as heir after the death of her father. Fortunately, her younger half brother Aegon had declined to oppose her, and she was crowned. While your marriage to Jacaerys was indeed an arranged affair, you had managed to find love with the young prince, and he with you.

You were the very image of young love that had only bloomed since your nuptials.

There was only one slight crack in your relationship.

Intimacy.

You and Jacaerys were both young and inexperienced on your wedding night. You were thankful that he declined the bedding ceremony, the both of you basking in the warm glow of your private chambers all night.

But since then, moments such as that had been sparse between the two of you, and while Jace had been an attentive and loving husband, you found yourself yearning for more intimacy between the two of you. Any attempts at initiating such things had resulted in Jace telling you that it was late and you were both too tired, or that he didn't want to hurt you, bringing up memories of your discomfort on your wedding night.

It wasn't your fault he was incredibly well endowed.

You were sure that you could both navigate yourselves through the act of lovemaking without bringing you pain.

You just needed to explore that aspect of your relationship more.

And you had decided that tonight would be that night.

Perhaps it was because of the way you had been alone with your thoughts for most of the evening, perverse desires swimming in your mind, or the fact that Jace's touch, whether it was placing his hand over yours, or on your thigh in an innocent manner, a source of comfort...

Or perhaps it was the way Daemon's stare had made your thighs rub together and your skin flush with heat.

No matter the reason, your lips found Jace's the moment he closed your chamber doors behind him, and while initially taken aback by your rather bold action, he eagerly kissed back, his hands travelling to rest on your back while yours tangled in his hair. You smirked against his lips as you felt the lace of your dress loosen.

Once your dress was undone, pooling around your feet, you attempted to tug off Jace's clothes, but he lightly grabbed your wrists, his forehead resting against yours, your chests heaving and lips swollen.

"I... can't..."

"Why not?" You whispered, eyes locking with his. "Jace... I need you. I want you. I want to feel you. Feel loved by you."

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"You won't."

"How do you know that?"

"There are things that can be done to ensure that the act is not painful, but pleasurable. I have read about it-"

"Y/N!"

"Jace, you left me with no other choice," You suddenly snapped, chest heaving. "We have not been intimate since our wedding."

"I know... and believe me, my love, I have yearned to be close with you as well," Jace sighed, taking your hands in his. "But you know that we are not exactly well educated in the act of love making. Look at who we were surrounded with to teach us. Me, with my alcoholic uncle who viewed women as objects and you, with two married sisters who refused to speak on the subject-"

"It seems you could use some guidance in the matter."

You and Jace both turned to see Daemon leaning in the open doorway, arms folded and a slight smirk on his face. Jace stepped between his stepfather than you, an arm protectively outstretched to protect your dignity.

"You could have granted us the liberty of knocking to prepare us for your arrival," Jace spoke, his voice surprisingly stern, almost authoritative, as he addressed his stepfather. Usually his tone would be more respectful, but when you were involved, he didn't care who he was addressing.

"I was about to, but I found your conversation to be far too interesting," Daemon replied, taking a step forward.

"That's close enough," Jace said, his arm pushing you further behind him. Daemon tilted his head, taking another step towards his stepson.

"I merely wish to offer my... expertise, on your issue."

"We do not require such guidance from you."

Daemon smirked. "This doesn't just concern you, Jacaerys. What about you, byka mēre?" [little one]

The way those Valyrian words dripped from his tongue made a shudder run down your spine, your thighs squeezing together.

"She does not need you or your silver tongued words-" Jace began, but he was silence by Daemon raising a hand.

"I was not addressing you, Jacaerys," He said dismissively, curling a finger towards you to beckon you closer.

Jace's grip on your waist loosened as you pulled away from him, hesitantly stepping towards Daemon.

"There you are, byka mēre," His smirk was like a serpent's as he spoke in that honeyed tone. Gentle, but with an edge. Something lingered behind it, and it just took one look into his eyes, the way his pupils darkened when focused on her, to know why. "Tell me, what do you wish to know?"

"I..." You tried to speak, but your mouth was completely dry. You could practically feel yourself shrink in front of Daemon's imposing stare. His presence filled the room, and you couldn't help but find yourself in awe of him.

"Do not tell me you are suddenly feeling shy, little dove," Daemon murmured, reaching out to run his thumb over your lower lip. "You can tell me."

"I... well... I wish to know how to be... how to feel..."

"How to feel true pleasure?" He asked, eyes glittering like amethysts. She nodded, and he turned to address his stepson.

"Have you not been satisfying your beautiful bride, Jacaerys?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That is none of your concern."

"But your wife wishes it to be. Do you want me to help you, byka jorrāelagon?" [little love]

"Daemon-"

"I do," Your voice was nothing more than a hushed murmur, but both Daemon and Jace heard you, the latter shooting you a look of slight hurt.

"Do you hear that Jacaerys? She wants me to guide her."

"You will not touch her," Jace glared, fists clenched.

"That is not your choice to make," Daemon replied with a smirk. "Do you want me to touch you, little one?" He asked, earning a nod from you in response.

"I will not have this-"

"Do you wish for your wife to be happy, Jacaerys?" Daemon interrupted his stepson, raising an eyebrow.

"Well... well yes..."

"You want her to feel satisfied? To feel pleasure?"

"Of course-"

"And giving her such pleasure would make her happy, yes?"

Jace breathed out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the ground and his jaw clenched. "...Yes..." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Then surely that means that whatever your wife wishes... you should grant her? Or in this instance... allow me to grant her?"

Jace's gaze snapped up to meet Daemon's. "Do you not have any loyalty to my mother? To your wife?"

"Of course I do, Jacaerys," Daemon replied smoothly. "But your pretty little wife here wishes for the guidance I have offered. Do not fret," His lip curled into a smile. "I will make sure it is not a regular occurrence."

Jace looked at you, meeting your gaze as you silently pleaded with him.

"Even if it goes against your wishes," Daemon added. "I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before your wife seeks me out. So, we can do this tonight... or whenever she finds me in private-"

"Fine!" Jace exclaimed, letting out a deep breath. "Very well."

You rushed over to him, cupping his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. "Thank you, my love. Do not fret, I will make this up to you." You whispered, pressing another kiss, this time to his cheek, as he took your hands in his.

"If this is what you truly want, I will not stand in your way of happiness," He murmured, laying a kiss to the back of your hand.

"I love you."

"And I you, dearest." He mustered you a small smile, kissing your other hand before letting you go. You stepped back, giving him one last smile before turning to Daemon, who outstretched a hand towards you.

"Shall we, byka mēre?"

You nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you over to the bed.

"If you feel overwhelmed, little one, you need only tell me. I will stop. I give you my word of that."

"I assure you, your grace, I will not require that."

"You need not call me that, byka jorrāelagon, " Daemon murmured, looking down at you. "You may call me kepa. Understood?"

"Yes," You replied. "Kepa." You quickly added.

"Jacaerys, you may either step outside or take a seat. I do not require you at this moment" Daemon said, glancing over to his nephew. "Actually, I think that you had better watch. You will need to stay to learn how a lady can be pleasured."

Jace slumped down in a chair by the fireplace, glaring at his stepfather's rather smug expression, his jaw clenched, no doubt to hold back any words he may regret. He did not wish to upset you, or deny you your wish, and Daemon had a larger influence, over both the kingdom and Rhaenyra that he could use to his advantage should Jacaerys change his mind.

He didn't want to push you away.

So he would bite his tongue, and hold himself back for tonight.

"Right now, little dove," Daemon's attention was now fully focused on you. "First, let's remove these undergarments. Let me see you."

His touch lit your skin on fire as his hands slid down your arms to settle on your waist before moving to your back. You let out a small gasp at the ripping sound as he tore the garment from you body, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

His lilac gaze darkened as he circled around you, like a predator around its prey.

Because that is what you were.

His prey for tonight.

And he was going to devour you.

"My, my, what a stunning little creature you are. I can see why my stepson is so enamoured with you..." He murmured, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine, sending an involuntary shiver at his touch. "Do not worry, little dove," He added, coming to stand in front of you, his hands moving to cup your face. "Kepa will take good care of you. Lay down on the bed for me, little one."

Complying with his orders, you settled yourself on the bed behind you, the silken sheets smooth against your bare skin.

"Sȳz riña,"[good girl] He praised, ridding himself of his tunic and undershirt to expose his toned torso to you. He was healthy, strong, with a warrior's body.

"You enjoy what you see, jorrāelagon mēre?"[dear one] He smirked slightly at your lustful gaze. Hesitantly, you nodded, making the smirk widen. "You need not shy away from me, dārilaros, my purpose tonight is to help you, to fulfil your wishes, understood?" [princess]

"Yes, kepa," You murmured, gazing up at him with those eyes of yours, wide like a does as he leaned forward to capture you lips in a hungry kiss, one that was full of desire and unbridled lust, one that consumed you. It did not contain the passion and tenderness of Jace's, but sent a jolt of excitement through you nonetheless.

Daemon nipped at your lower lip, a whimper slipping through as you parted your lips to allow his tongue to enter your mouth. He gently pushed you down so you were laying on your back, one hand bracing himself above you while the other moved to your breast, rolling a hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He made sure to settle himself on one side of you so Jacaerys could get a full view of the way your body reacted to his touch, so he could see the way you arched into Daemon as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses in his wake, his hand still fondling your breast.

You tilted your head back against the pillows as his teeth grazed the sweet spot at the base of your throat, your breath hitching slightly. Daemon smirked against your neck, his lips latching onto the spot and sucking into the skin. His hand left your breast, tracing along the curve of your waist, your hips, your stomach, before settling to part your legs. Dipping between them, he glided a finger between your folds, gathering your arousal on his forefinger.

"So wet with desire for me already, byka mēre," He murmured, lifting his head from your neck where the skin had began to bloom with the irritation from his teeth. He lifted the finger to his lips, tasting you. "Heavenly. However did you restrain yourself Jacaerys? If I had your privilege I would feast on you every night, dārilaros."

"H-he said... he said he didn't want to hurt me..." You breathed out, chest heaving already from the attention Daemon had given you.

"That is because he doesn't know how to prepare you, dove," Daemon replied. "But do not worry, kepa will help you."

It didn't hurt when he inserted his first finger inside of you, or even the second, stretching your walls as his thumb lazily circled your clit.

"Be patient, byka mēre," He tutted as you desperately bucked your hips against his fingers, desperate for more friction. "We don't want this to be over quickly, do we? I have you all night, and I tend to take advantage of that."

The way he'd murmur those words only grew your desire for more. You wanted him inside of you, to feel him stretch you out and join you as one. But you also understood he was there to guide and teach you the ways of pleasure.

And you knew he was going to take his sweet time.

Your hands braced on his shoulders, nails digging crescent marks into his skin as he pushed a third finger inside.

"Does it hurt?"

"A... a little..." You whispered. "But please don't stop, kepa. Please... keep going."

"As you wish, dārilaros," He smirked, pumping his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still circling your sensitive bud.

It wasn't long until you came undone for the first time that night. The way Daemon's fingers curled against you and the way he'd press against your clit soon sending you over the edge.

Daemon lifted his fingers to your lips. "Open, little one," He husked, lilac eyes blown with lust as you sucked his fingers clean.

"Sȳz riña." [good girl]

His replaced his fingers with his lips, humming to himself as he tasted you on your lips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, rolling your hips against his.

"Wait did I say about patience?" He whispered against your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. "It isn't me I'm preparing that sweet little cunt for, jorrāelagon mēre..." [dear one]

His whisper sent a shudder straight through you, head tilting to the side to focus on where Jace was sat by the fireplace, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, those usually warming brown eyes now black, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his bulge strained beneath his breeches.

You knew Jace was struggling to maintain his composure, that it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

You kept your gaze locked on him as Daemon kissed your neck, tongue gliding over the bruise he'd left earlier before focusing his attention on your breast, teeth catching your nipple and making your head tilt back in pleasure. Breathy moans filled the room as he paid the same attention to your other breast before leaving a line of kisses down your stomach, your hips, before his head settled between your legs, draping them over his shoulders.

He feasted on you like a man starved, groaning at your sweet taste while your fingers tangled in his silver tresses. Every time his tongue would press against your clit, or flick against your walls made you roll your hips against him, fingers tugging at his hair that only made him growl against your, the vibrations only tightening the coil twisting in the pit of your stomach.

Your thighs squeezing around his head only made him bury his tongue deeper inside of you, rolling onto his back so you were now straddling his head. His hands planted themselves on your waist, guiding your hips to roll down against him, nose brushing against your clit.

Daemon had a reputation for having a skilled silver tongue, and he certainly put it to good use, bringing you to the brink once again, eagerly lapping at your juices like it was the finest feast in the seven kingdoms.

You let out deep gasps of breaths as you moved yourself from Daemon, who sat up beside you, lips glistening with your arousal.

"I think you might be ready, don't you?" He asked, hooking his finger beneath your chin so your eyes locked with his. You nodded, Daemon smirking and brushing your hair from your eyes. "Alright, little one. Jacaerys." He called over to his stepson the way an owner would to a dog, but Jacaerys rose to his feet all the same, his brisk strides bringing himself to your side in an instant, his hand protectively resting on shoulder as he glared at his uncle.

"It seems she's ready for you." Daemon said, pouring himself a goblet of Dornish wine. "Be gentle, let her set the pace. Perhaps you should be on top, byka mēre," He suggested, that glint in his eyes making Jace narrow his in suspicion. "Don't tell me you are going to back away now, Jacaerys," Daemon continued. "It will upset your dear wife so."

"Of course I haven't," Jace replied, his voice stern and clear, but when he looked at you, his glare directed at his stepfather softened. "If she still wants this." He added, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as you insisted your stance had not changed. "As you wish, my love," He murmured, standing from the bed to rid himself of his clothing.

Jacaerys leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you into his arms so he could manoeuvre you both, him laying on his back and you straddling his waist, his hardened cock pressing against you. His hands found your waist as you positioned yourself above him, slowly lowering yourself onto him, your head tilted back and mouth slightly agape at the heavenly feeling of him stretching your walls.

"Does it feel alright?" Jace whispered.

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him again. "I'm fine," You murmured against his lips.

The sound of Daemon's empty goblet being placed back down on the table echoed around the room, making you pull away from Jace, looking behind you to see Daemon removing the rest of his clothes.

"Hold on, you said-"

"I said she was ready for you, I never said that I was finished with her yet," Daemon interrupted his stepson's protests, walked behind you to whisper in your ear.

"Do you think you can take me as well, dārilaros," He whispered, warm breath fanning against the shell of you ear. He let out a small hum of approval at your nod of response, lips pressing against your shoulder as he leaned you forward slightly.

"Relax for me, byka mēre," He cooed in your ear, his finger teasing the entrance to your puckered hole. "Kepa will not hurt you unless you wish for him to."

You clenched around his finger as he slowly pushed it into you, gently moving it in and out. Beneath you, you felt Jace's cock twitch inside of you, as though pleading with you to move. His gaze was focused on you as your expression twisted into one of pleasure, your hands braced against his chest as Daemon continued working on preparing you for him.

When he deemed you were ready, he slowly entered you, hand holding your hip to keep you in place as he sheathed himself inside of you.

The feeling of being filled up by the two of them was almost euphoric, Daemon stretching you out perfectly despite not being as well endowed as Jacaerys (although still impressive).

"Are you ready, dōna mēre?"[sweet one] Daemon asked, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

"Yes... please kepa... please let me move..." You whispered.

"Ssh, little one," He hushed you. "It's alright. You can move when I tell you, understood? When I pull out of you, that's when you can move, yes?"

You nodded. "Yes, I understand, kepa."

"Sȳz riña," Daemon whispered, lips brushing against your temple as he slowly drew out of you, his grip on your hip loosening to allow you to move up and down along Jace's length. When you lifted yourself off of him, Daemon entered you once again, establishing a slow but steady rhythm.

You let out a moan as Jace pressed a thumb against your swollen pearl, the sensitive bud sending another jolt of pleasure through you as Daemon picked up the pace, guiding your hips faster. Jace sat up to capture your lips with his, more passionate than the last.

The kiss broke as Daemon grabbed your hair, tugging your head back to replace Jace's lips with his, exposing your throat for Jace to lay his own claim on you.

After your two previous orgasms, you knew you wouldn't last longer, and when Jace applied more pressure to your clit and Daemon snapped his hips against your ass, you were tipped over the edge, your third orgasm of the evening coming over you like a tidal wave.

Daemon's hips stuttered against you, and stood still for a moment as he reached his release, laying a kiss to the top of your head as he slowly pulled out of you, using his finger to push any of his load back into your hole.

"Finish inside of her Jacaerys," He said, stepping back. "I'm sure she'd look quite heavenly with her stomach swollen with your heir."

You had been waiting all evening for Jace to snap, to take control, and Daemon's comment must have triggered something within him, as the next thing you knew, you're husband had you pinned down beneath him as he rutted into you like a depraved animal, his mouth on yours swallowing the moans and cries that ripped through you at the relentless pace he'd set.

"Do you want that?" He all but growled against her lips. "To be swollen with my heir? My babe?"

"Please Jace..." You breathed. "Ñuha dārilaros, ñuha zaldrīzes, fill me with your seed so that I may grant you an heir." [my prince, my dragon]

And with that, Jace spilled himself inside of you, and like Daemon, he made sure none of his release went to waste, pushing it back inside of you.

"It seems my work here is done," Daemon smirked, redressing himself. "Well done, Jacaerys, I hope you grant your wife her wishes more often now." He walked over to where you were sprawled out on the bed, covered in a sheen of sweat. He crouched down and leaned forward, his lips hovering over your ear as he whispered so only you could hear.

"If you require me again, ñuha dārilaros, you need only ask," You could practically hear the smirk as he purred into your ear. "I'm sure nobody would bat an eye if your babe was born with silver hair. Jacaerys does carry the blood of the dragon in his veins." [my princess]

And with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he rose to his feet, and left, closing the door behind him and leaving you and Jacaerys to catch your breaths, and realise what in seven hells had just happened.

If you wanted to be added to the general HOTD taglist or taglists for specific character/s, just let me know

Masterlist

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x reader #Daemon Targaryen imagine #Jacaerys Velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon imagine #House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon imagine #House of the dragon smut #Daemon Targaryen x reader x Jacaerys Velaryon

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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maybe you think that you can hide (i can smell your scent from miles)

summary: let it be known that accepting defeat is not in aemond targaryen's nature. and with a witch now in his hands, the distance between you and him is only shortening.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. mentions of violence, previous smut, and child loss. male masturbation. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: to quote my mom, megan thee stallion: "pressed, stressed, obsessed, i got 'em."

masterlist | series masterlist

part one | part three | part four | part five

The rain was light. From his chamber’s windows, Aemond One Eye could see the fat raindrops fogging up the glass frames and mudding the open courtyard below, where he usually trained under Ser Criston Cole. The evening weather was peaceful and calm, very soothing, but Aemond’s mind was anything but.

He had been counting the days, as it was all he could do right now.

Three months, perhaps even four, since his own lady wife vanished, leaving no trace of herself behind.

Aemond deeply regretted not having a septon marry the two of them in the eyes of the Seven that very night that he claimed her, or whisking her away to Dragonstone in secret to wed her in the customs of his ancestors. Oh, he knew that his family would object to the marriage, but he did not care. She was his, and they could not, would not, deny that. She and the babe. They both belonged to him.

And now they were gone.

It weighed him down most days- if not all, a sort of feeling so heavy in his chest that sometimes it made it hard to breathe. Were they both alright? Safe and healthy? Had she gone against his wishes and returned to her homeland? Aemond had no way of knowing the answers and that itself was most upsetting, because what if they were dead? Or injured, with the Stranger trailing after them, awaiting the chance to rob them from him?

He shakes his head at that. I will find them, he swears to himself, while a fist clenches into a tight ball, no more of these ill thoughts.

But with no more ill-mannered thoughts come those of vengeance and punishment.

How dare she, this lady wife of his, flee from him!

He promised her everything under the golden sun and more- a plentiful and comfortable life as a princess of the realm and the mother of his heirs, as well as his very own beating heart and soul and seed. What more could the foolish girl long for? Aemond stares out the window, towards the gentle hill slopes of the realm’s countryside. The land was silvery from the rain and blanketed with a thick mist. What could her homeland provide that he could not?

He sighs before turning back to his empty bed, the left side, from where she once laid, now cold and untouched, with her sweet scent slowly fading. He hates it.

Yet some of it was still left, to his many blessings, and he brings the sheets to his nose, taking in a deep whiff.

The smell makes his cock stir and harden in his pants, and he soon grows too weak in the knees and in his resolve. He tears off his trousers and lays on the bed, his cock in one hand, and her side of the sheets in the other, his mind spinning countless images of his young bride. Every thought sent more blood rushing in between his legs, memories of her pretty body and all the marks and bruises her skin wore, her cries and whimpers, and the way her tearful eyes bore into his.

After that night, he took her more and more, in varying positions. Some new, others old. Sometimes he mounted her from behind, shoving her face down into the pillows to muffle her loud moans and screams as her hips slapped against his, and while that was pleasant, he soon realized he did not care for such. Aemond liked seeing her beautiful face twisted in pleasure and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, and how she easily flustered whenever he leant to whisper a string of praises in her ear.

He also liked when she sat on her knees with his cock in her mouth, her tongue working wonders as she stared up at him as if he was a god and she one of those whores that belonged to the Street of Silk. But he never dared mutter those kind of words aloud, fore his lady wife was so much prettier than them damned wenches, too sweet and innocent and pure, and wholly his.

And not long after that, she began to glow, the sort that came only with motherhood.

He loved it and felt nothing but immense pride.

Was she still glowing, and swelling with his child? Aemond was certain she was, and he could only imagine the sight, one most beautiful to man. He remembered his mother’s pregnancy with his younger brother- how her feet constantly ached, and all the times she would ask Ser Cole to fan her, or switch gowns because she grew too uncomfortable and moody.

Was it the same for his wife? Were her little feet hurting as well?

The thought of such makes him bite down hard on his bottom lip, trying his best to swallow his own grunts and moan, and with a whine so unlike him, the head of his cock weeps and spills more of his seed, down his hand and onto his thighs.

What a waste, he thinks emptily, while eyeing the mess he had made, all this belongs to her, yet the foolish girl refused to see it.

Heaving out yet another heavy sigh, he reaches for the rag that sits to his side. What more could be done? Nothing. Foolish, foolish little girl, he clicks his tongue, all this because of you. He then calls for the maid, requesting for her to draw him a bath.

Tonight, he will dream of his lady wife and their little babe and the life they should be sharing at this very moment. He will ponder over names and if the child will favor her looks or his, and how he will need to meet with the royal seamstress for a layette. And as he sinks himself into the scalding hot waters of the bathtub, he smiles in contentment.

One-eyed Aemond Targaryen will have his wife, and his child too, by any means necessary.

It was after he sacked Harrenhal that Aemond finds the opportunity he had been waiting for.

The sixth month was nearing with still no sign of his little wife, though the princeling did not dare to consider admitting defeat. There was much pent-up frustration and fury within him, festering from all the damned months he faced of constant loneliness and dryness, and the riverlands faced the brute of it, most notably House Strong. In the ward of Harrenhal, at the hands and command of Prince Aemond, no Strong was spared- neither trueborn nor bastard, all but Alys Rivers.

He had previously heard that the rivers woman was an alleged woods witch, though she dabbled in other branches of the craft. Blood magic too, several little birds say as well.

It gives him an idea.

So he demands two of his knightsmen to bring to him the wet nurse, dark-haired and twice his age. When she stands in front of him, dressed in a soft emerald gown and with her bodice sullied wet from her breast milk, he does not expect for her to bat her black eyelashes and promise to warm his bed if he grants her protection.

“I can be of great use to you,” she adds, in tones thick with seduction.

But Aemond is quick to unsheathe his sword and hold it at her throat. “It should be known that I carry no love for your kind, witch, and that I dare not touch another woman who is not my wife,” he seethes, pressing the blade harder against her skin, “-either you pledge to help me find her, or I will sever your tongue. Perhaps I’ll send it to the whore of my eldest sister as a gift, seeing how she loved you Strongs so much.”

In the back stands Ser Criston Cole, biting his own tongue from saying anything. He may have been the second son of Viserys Targaryen, but Prince Aemond was the knight’s through and through.

The woman nods, and Aemond pulls back his sword. In his mind, he is giddy with excitement at the thought of finally having his dear wife back in his arms, where she belongs.

And the babe, he can hardly wait to see him too.

Alys wipes away the tiny welts of blood budding along her neckline, grimacing. She recognizes the blade as Valyrian-steel, with an edge that could have cut her head clean off. It is probably spell-forged too, she thinks. “My time and craft come with a price, Prince Aemond,” she says, steeling her voice to hide the fact that she is licking her wounds. “I expect to be paid in return.”

“Yes, I know,” Aemond hums, while sliding his sword back into its sheathe. “You will keep your life, and still have the chance for more babes to feed from your chest.”

He debates whether to bring her back to King’s Landing, in case his own children need a wet nurse, but the thought is off-putting, and he wishes not to offend his wife when she returns. Instead, he turns back to study the rivers woman. “My wife is missing,” he says, “and I wish to find her and bring her home.”

Alys frowns. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Six months ago, in our room. She disappeared the next morning, leaving nothing behind.” Aemond sighs. “She is with child,” he says ruefully, “and I worry every day." He rubs at his temple, shaking his head. "This is her first babe, and mine as well. I have made her into a new mother with the promise to remain by her side, but now she is gone, and I haven’t the slightest clue where she might be.” The pain returns again, followed by anger and frustration, as well as the deep regret for not doing things differently.

His words give Alys a chill. She always had a soft spot for children and the young maidens that found motherhood too soon in their lives. Maybe because that was her once, so many moons ago, losing child after child well before their lives began.

She mourned so many dead babes that the thought of another girl going through the same felt sinful.

Finding sudden courage, Alys takes Aemond’s hand in hers. “Let me help you, Prince Aemond,” she tells him, all with the gentlest smile. “A father should be with his children, and a wife with her husband.”

His violet eye finds her green ones, and she catches the smallest glimmer of hope flickering within. “Thank you.”

“Blood magic would perhaps be the best way to find your wife, my prince.”

Aemond tilts his head at Alys. “How so?” The Faith of the Seven went against magic, and harbors little love or respect towards those who practice it, and he grew up with similar sentiments. But at this point, he is too desperate to care. All he wants is her back.

May the Father and the Crone forgive him in his later years, though he has a feeling that the Mother might be rather sympathetic and understanding towards his situation.

“It is a strong and powerful craft,” Alys explains, “capable of things beyond our own understandings. This sort of magic- it has the power to deliver life and then steal it away. ”

He hums, nodding along. “And how would it work?”

Alys pauses, unsure of how to say her next words. “It would require the blood of your wife, my prince,” she says, carefully, “even just the tiniest droplet would work well. I could call upon my own gods to find her. If she pricked her finger on a needle or scraped her knee, as long as it drew fresh blood, there is no use in her hiding.” But her head then drops, and her shoulders slump too, “Yet seeing how she has been gone for so long, I do not know how it could be done, or what else to do in that matter.”

Aemond remains quiet from where he sits by the room’s hearth. He brushes his knuckles against his lips as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. “Would dry blood work?”

Alys blinks. “Well, maybe?” Her mouths flatten in a line as she ponders over the idea, trying to remember if her old readings ever mentioned anything about dried blood and rituals. “I suppose so, my prince,” she replies with, fiddling with her long and thin fingers, “Blood is blood, regardless of time.”

At that, he leaves the room, only to return several minutes later carrying a single bedsheet, cream in color. Alys watches as he drapes it over the chair he had sat at, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. When he is done, he calls for the witch to join his side, and when she stands next to him, he gestures to a bloodstain at the center, dried and a bit crusty but still obvious.

“My wife’s blood,” he says, smirking, “from the night I took her maidenhood and gave her our son.”

Alys glances at him, and her lips pull back into a smirk too. “Perfect.”

tag list: @minttea07 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @smolnuggie911 @marahisthebest @bibli0thecary @whatsonthemirror @bellaisasleep @witchy-jadda @princeaemond1eye @mefools @xcharlottemikaelsonx @browngirl101

(if I did not tag you, it’s because it did not let me! im sorry, little love, the tumblr gods hate me today.)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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dragonbarbie · 10 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.” he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

“see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

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two-white-butterflies · 10 months

Text

my way, back home | aem. targaryen

Description: Aemond wants to build a big family with you. One that rivals his great-grandfather's. (the dance never happens)

Rating: Teen [fluff]

It was uncommon to see a wedding happen because of love. It was rare to see a wedding happen because of love and political advancement. You were lucky to have the latter.

It was a hot day in Kingslanding - like the many days before. Of course, your sons took it as a reason to go to Dragonstone - where the shores and the heat were more forgiving.

"At this rate we'll need to create a beach just for our children," Aemond mused, allowing the waves to kiss his ankles. "If there is enough coin in our coffers, maybe." you replied as he leaned down to peck your lips. "I always find a way," he hummed, sitting on the sand.

His hands trail down to your swollen belly. A babe of five moons, another price or princess for the realm to adore. "What do you think it'll be?" you inquired - staring deep into his eye. "A loved child," he replied - not caring for the gender. He was a relief to have in this world - a world where girls were viewed as liability.

You turned to the side - eyes narrowing to see the figure of your sons and their handmaidens properly. "Not too far, my darlings." you gently warn, seeing that the water was beginning to reach Rhaenar's shoulders. "Yes, mother." your youngest, Aenar, responded.

Aemond kept his hand on your stomach, rubbing slow circles while he watched his sons play in the waters. A small thought runs through his head - a plan and a vision of his life.

"You have been far too silent, my husband." you pointed out, using the cloth to dry your hair properly. "I have been thinking," he professed - taking a lazy sip of his dornish wine.

"Thinking about what?" you raised an eyebrow.

The sides of his lips turned upwards - slowly leaning towards a smile. He takes another sip of his wine, allowing the silence to permeate throughout the atmosphere. "I want more children with you," he stated and a playful laugh escapes your mouth.

"This one is yet to escape my womb, and you already plan to have a fifth?" your eyebrows bumped into each other. The pain of childbirth was great - but the joy of having a babe in your arms, it was greater. "And a sixth, a seventh and an eighth." he professed - already having a few names in mind for his heirs.

"Is this the wine speaking, or does the plan of replacing King Jaehaerys' records lay rampant in your head?" you accused, taking a step forward and sitting on his lap. His hands inch towards your belly again - seeing that it was it's perfect place. "I always intended it to be that way," he whispered - burying his face on your neck.

"But we won't be like them, you know that - right?" you frown, remembering his children's cruel fates. "We'll be better." you add with certainty. Your daughters will not be subjected to cruel matches - and your sons will be raised with vigor and love. Your daughters will know that their beauty increases their worth - and that it doesn't diminish their intellect. Your sons will know that they are not only meant to be princes and heirs - they can venture far.

"Yes," he answered, removing his hand from your belly - reaching for your jaw and merging your lips together.

@bellstwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @fan-goddess @mizfortuna @watercolorskyy

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meraxesmoon · 6 months

Note

imagine daemon prohibiting bastard!reader from having dragon rides and balerion almost destroying dragonstone because of it

note: TURNING THIS INTO A ONESHOT BC OMG

warnings: yandere content, daemon being petty, rhae trying to mother (name), caraxes slander (I'm so sorry), a dead knight

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Dragonstone was particularly dreary today, or maybe she just saw it that way as she stood before her 'father' and his wife as he explained (or at least tried to) why she was barred from riding Balerion today. It made no sense to (Name). Did her father secretly hate her? Did he want her to suffer? Otherwise, why would he stop her from doing the only thing that made her happy?

It was obvious that Rhaenyra and Jacaerys did not agree with this, but she was Daemon's daughter, and what he said went.

"You are banned from dragon riding until further notice," Daemon says, looking at his little girl as she glares at the floor with her dark eyes. She's misty-eyed and refuses to look at him as she grips at the burgundy dress her stepmother had put her in early this morning. The fabric was being pulled at and wrinkled as she gripped in in her tiny hands, her knuckles paling as she urged her tears not to fall. She hated looking weak in front of him. It made her skin crawl. The only one she allowed herself to be vulnerable with was her dragon, Balerion.

She genuinely hated Daemon Targaryen with a searing passion.

"Come now, Sweetling," Rhaenyra tries to coo at the little girl as dotingly as she could, using the tone of voice she only used with her children. "I'll take you to see Syrax if you'd like." It was a kind gesture, even (Name)'s muddled mind could comprehend that, but she was too distraught to say anything back to her stepmother. Instead, she takes Jace's hand as he leads her back to her room, knowing that all she needs to do is cry and take a long nap.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

(Name) is only ushered out of her room once dusk hits, Luke taking her to Dragonstone's dining hall so she can eat with the family. She sits in between her "brothers," shielding Daemon from her view. She could hardly look at him, her lip wobbling as she sipped at the cider in her cup. Rhaena had gifted her a dragon figure made out of dragon glass, and (Name) grips it tightly in her small hand as she tries to eat.

"..."

The dining hall was usually bustling with conversation, but tonight, it was starkly quiet. Rhaenyra sat and made sure little Joff wouldn't choke on his food, Baela was sharing looks with her sister, and the boys kept sending worried glances to their mother. (Name), once tired of eating her food, just glared at the table. Daemon held his chin in his hand, ignoring the disappointment looks his other two girls were sending him.

"(Name), come with me tomorrow to ride on Caraxes, he's very -" "No." She grunts out her response, poison dripping from her voice as she glares at the table even harder.

She didn't want to fly on his stupid dragon. She wanted to fly on her amazing, graceful, gorgeous dragon. Balerion had a certain ferocity to him, of course, but he was gentle with her and treated her more kindly than most humans. It hadn't even been a full day, and she missed him dearly.

Before any arguments could flare up, a guard comes storming in, panic written all over his face.

"What's happened, Ser?" Rhaenyra questions, thinking that perhaps something had happened to her youngest children. White in the face, the knight clears his throat before answering. "It is the princesses dragon. The Black Dread is attacking Dragonstone!"

Daemon goes slack, his eyes closing in irritation.

He hated that overgrown cat.

"Daemon, take her to him. Now." Rhaenyra warns her husband, her amethyst eyes narrowing at him.

Daemon takes his daughter on Caraxes, and they fly down to the bridge of Dragonstone where Balerion was wreaking havoc. The onyx scales of Balerion shone in the evening sun as he trampled all over the place. In his jaw, the bloody remains of a knight. (Name) grimaced at the sight, because she knew that Balerion wouldn't have done this unless he was bothered enough.

He was angry, she could feel that much.

Noticing them, Balerion drops the corpse, crimson blood dripping from his black teeth as he huffs at the sight of Daemon. Daemon found the entire situation funny, which prompted (Name) to squirm on the dragon saddle. Balerion was never one for jokes, and he didn't like her father in the slightest. Balerion's ginormous frame barely fit on the bridge, and one of his clawed feet were in the water as he shook his scales as a warning to Daemon.

(Name) pops her little body off of Caraxes, running towards Balerion, not caring if her dress got all messy in the process. Noticing his small rider on the ground, Balerion lowers his large head, his nostrils flaring as he lets her stroke her hand over his snoot. Daemon looks at the black dragon with resentment in his eyes, pursing his lips in annoyance, Caraxes lets out a whistle in response to Daemon's emotions.

The Rogue Prince watches as his youngest daughter climbs up her dragons wing, settling herself on the saddle that rested on Balerion's back. The smile on her face was simply too sweet, Daemon couldn't be too angry. He eyes the bloody mess on the ground as Balerion turns back to return to his resting place with (Name) in tow.

"Ugh..."

Daemon really hated that damned dragon.

daemon: you can't ride balerion today

(name): :'(((

balerion: >:O 🔥

@your-favorite-god

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #yandere content #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere balerion #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere #rhxegal #kay writes

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howdoesagrapewrites · 5 months

Text

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died

#dragon jaws #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere targaryens #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen #rhaena of pentos #Rhaena Targaryen x reader #Baela Targaryen x reader #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

semi-human nature {alpha!aemond targaryen x omega!reader x alpha!daemon targaryen}

{summary} a visit to king's landing goes awry when you go into your first heat— unaware not only that you are an omega, but also that your uncle and stepfather are alphas.

{word count} 6.7k

{warnings} smut (a/b/o standards like heat, breeding, knotting, all that good stuff; kinda dubcon because the reader doesn't totally understand what's happening at first), incest and stepcest (the reader is rhaenyra's daughter making her daemon's stepdaughter and aemond's niece), virginity loss, kinda painful sex/pain kink near the end, threesome, oral m receiving, spitroast, discussions of pregnancy, infidelity (daemon is married to rhaenyra), basically no plot just filthiness

Your visits to King's Landing were far too rare for your tastes. You didn't mind that Dragonstone was your home, it was beautiful there and you and your brothers found plenty to do and see— but you missed the old castle at times, missed the adventure and mystery there. Most of all, you missed your extended family. Though, really, you only missed some very specific members of it.

Firstly, you missed your Aunt Helaena, because she'd always been kind to you and taught you some things when you were a girl— like how to braid hair and how to play her flute (but you were never very good at either). Secondly, and much more, you missed your Uncle Aemond. As cunning and cold as he could be to others, he tended to be sweet with you, as long as you could remember. The older you both got, the more you started to feel more than a friendly, or familial, connection with him— your girlish daydreams sometimes drifted to what it would be like if you married him someday, but you figured that would never happen with the growing animosity between your family and his. Still, when he smiled at you, or when he kissed your head the tender way he did, you couldn't help but hope he felt as you did.

But you loved your family here, of course— your mother was sweet to you, as her only daughter, and your stepfather Daemon loved you as his own. (Some cast a suspicious eye at the two of you, thinking maybe he loved you more than his own… but he was just affectionate, that’s all.)

In fact, he was being characteristically tender with you as you approached King’s Landing, rubbing your arm reassuringly until you smiled up at him. “I’m sure you’re the happiest of any of us to be here,” he told you with a smirk.

“You aren’t happy to see your brother?” you pressed, but he never answered. Your conversation was interrupted by the end of the journey being reached; they were waiting in the courtyard for you, and even though there was a tension in the air between everyone, you couldn’t help but smile shyly at Aemond. He looked back at you, the smallest curl growing on his lips, and your heart fluttered.

For now, you had to behave calmly and politely. But as soon as dinner preparations had begun and everyone had separated to manage individual matters, you ran through the castle to find Aemond in his chambers— and flung yourself into his arms with a squeal of delight.

He hugged you in return, though he tried to soothe you as he laughed softly at your excitement. “It hasn’t been so long, has it, niece?” he asked with a smirk— so smug about the way you clearly had missed him.

“You missed me too, didn’t you?” you sighed, pulling back to look up at his face; he wore the softest smile for you— his one eye sparkled brighter than the sapphire when he looked at you, you swore it, and you were glad you caught him without his patch to hide behind.

“Of course, sweet girl,” he promised. “My— you’ve grown, haven’t you? Weren’t you a little girl last you visited? And now I’ve got a woman in my arms.”

You flushed with warmth in your face and chest when he spoke like that— you felt most like a woman in his arms, anyway, even though your stepfather had commented more than once as well on your development as of late. “You act like I’m so much younger than you, Aemond,” you mumbled shyly. Somehow, you felt most like a woman when he held you; and, even more strangely, most like that little girl he remembered when he looked at you like that.

The embrace was cut short when you felt that dizzy feeling again, your eyes blinking quickly and the heat of your flush growing almost unbearable for a moment. “Are you alright?” he asked, seeing your dazed reaction.

“Y-yes, I’m— this happens,” you mumbled, trying to find your balance again as he stepped forward to keep you from falling. “Fainting spells— w-well, except I don’t faint… I just feel strange.”

He narrowed his eye, looking you up and down. “Strange?”

“Hot,” you whispered, throat a little dry— suddenly you could smell him, and he smelled perfect: it reminded you of snow-covered pine, icy and sturdy just like him. Why couldn’t you smell that before?

He pressed his hand to your forehead, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. The heat just seemed to spread all over you, and your head spun as your knees went a little weak. “How long has this been going on? Do your parents know?” he asked quickly.

You struggled to keep your thoughts in order enough to answer, a cramp hitting your gut all of a sudden— that had happened before, too, but the episodes never lasted this long before… which was why you hadn’t told your parents, it didn’t seem notable at the time. Now, of course, as pain twisted inside you, you regretted that. “J-just… just a few…” you tried to respond, but then you couldn’t even remember how many days it had been. All you could remember was this moment, and you reached up to clutch at his shoulders. You swore you heard him growl as he pulled you into him, and the noise made a shiver run through your body.

“I think you may be— fuck,” he interrupted himself, and you felt his nose brush against the side of your face as he breathed in deeply beside your neck. You were so soothed by his touch that you didn’t even really consider how bizarre it was that he buried his face there, smelling and tasting your skin. “You’re presenting— poor thing, it hurts, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t know what that meant, but yes, it hurt; you whined as you nodded, making weak fists that tugged on his leather tunic.

“I can help you,” he promised, “I can take that pain away.”

“Uncle,” you whimpered, “please— help me, please, I don’t understand what’s hap—”

“Shh, sweet girl,” he cooed softly, “you’ll be alright— it’s all well, I’m here now… I’ll help you, omega.”

Your eyebrows knitted— you weren’t sure you heard him right… omega? Maybe it was a Valyrian word you hadn’t heard before? You’d always daydreamed during your lessons as a child, and you certainly were less fluent than your uncle Aemond.

“All you have to do is as you’re told,” he instructed. “Do what I say and I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” you whined again, another cramp in your core hitting— and with it, a heat between your legs that you realised with distant shame was wetness flooding you. He took a deep breath in and groaned, suddenly pulling you with him across the room. You didn’t realise he was taking you to the bed until you felt it under your back.

“I can help you,” he said again, kissing all over your flushed face as you clutched at him desperately. His hands started to slide up under your dress and pet your legs which spread wide for him instinctively, your hips shaking as more slick leaked from your opening. “Your Alpha’s here, my darling…”

Before you could even consider asking what any of this meant— you were so needy, you might just let it all happen regardless— Daemon burst in the room.

“Fuck,” he blurted out when he saw you writhing on the bed while Aemond touched you. “Is she really—? I can smell her from across the courtyard, fuck, so sweet…”

“Leave us, Uncle,” Aemond ordered instantly, “she’s mine.”

“She’s my daughter, I should be the one to help her,” Daemon sneered. He crossed the room and approached the bed as Aemond held you tighter, defensively.

“She’s not your daughter,” Aemond scoffed, “she’s your wife’s bastard— and she’ll be my omega.”

Daemon shoved his nephew off of you with a growl, making you whimper. “Please— please…” was all you could say. You weren’t even sure what that sentence would be if you had the ability to finish: please don’t fight, perhaps, or please touch me.

“I should claim her,” Daemon insisted, descending on you next with a sweet purr. “Don’t you want Papa to help you now?”

You whined in confusion, one hand shakily reaching up to hold onto your stepfather’s shoulder— but the other found Aemond’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Let her decide,” Aemond decided, knowing you were so affectionate for him— Daemon might agree to that measure, thinking you would choose your stepfather first, if he thought you understood what was being asked of you.

“She can’t decide now,” Daemon hissed, “she’s presenting, she’s delirious— and she doesn’t even know what she is!”

“She doesn’t—?!” Aemond repeated, eyes wide as he looked back and forth between you two. “You never taught her? You never told her—!”

“We didn’t know!” Daemon defended. “We thought— everyone thought Rhaenyra would be an omega, as pure as she is, but she never presented… we just assumed—”

“How deprived you were, niece,” Aemond cooed at you, stroking your arm. “Your mother never taught you about us— about how special our family really is, that you might be—”

“What am I?” you whimpered, shaking, looking up at your uncle with teary eyes. He held your face and pet your cheek gently, but there was a rageful hunger in his eye like you’d never seen.

“You’re mine,” he answered.

“Ours,” Daemon corrected. “She’ll belong to both of us.”

Even though you still barely had any idea what was going on, you knew how dangerous of a proposition that was. Neither your uncle nor stepfather were ones for sharing…

Though he snarled in chagrin, Aemond was nodding as he pulled you into him again. “We’ll both help you, all right?” he prompted you quietly. “Your stepfather and I— we can both help you. You just have to do as you’re told…”

“Please,” you repeated weakly; you were carried to the bed and all but thrown onto it, a moment later feeling Daemon’s hands help undress you right away.

“I want her first,” Aemond informed Daemon firmly.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this, boy?” Daemon snapped, making his nephew laugh coldly.

“What a naughty Papa you are,” he smirked. “Will your wife approve of you fucking her daughter?”

“Wh-what?!” you choked. “What… what will you do to me?”

Daemon growled in the back of his throat as your dress was torn away, and you felt two pairs of hands run all over your bare skin as Aemond pulled you to lay on him. “As your uncle told you,” Daemon answered, “we’ll help you.”

Did they have to be so fucking cryptic all the time?!

“I’m having her first,” Aemond insisted again, “I found her first. You’ll have your turn.”

He helped you to straddle his lap, reaching down to quickly free himself from his trousers with a sigh; your legs were shaking already, and you jolted when you felt him press his cock up to your opening.

“U-Uncle,” you whimpered, “are you— will we really—?”

“Haven’t you wanted this, sweet girl?” Aemond whispered in your ear. “Don’t you want me to fill you?”

Though you whined before you let yourself admit it, you nodded. “Yes,” you choked, “yes— I wanted this.”

Aemond gave his uncle a little smirk, admiring the look on Daemon’s face— some impossible, forbidden mix of a jealous lover and a disapproving father. Apparently, he thought his stepdaughter was more loyal, and wouldn’t fall for her uncle sat so firmly on the other side of political lines. But love is funny like that— especially where Targaryens are involved.

“Call me your Alpha,” Aemond instructed in a low groan by your ear, struggling to resist his instinct to simply take you without any more delay— he’d been fighting his desire the second he first smelled you, not wanting to rush it too much, but both men were overcome with the need to be inside you as you shuddered and whimpered.

“Alpha,” you whispered back, feeling a pull to obey much more than usual when he spoke to you this way. “My Alpha…”

He pulled your hips down, sliding his cock inside you all at once. His head fell back as your hips rested on his; you cried loudly, feeling a sharp stretch— but more than pain, much more, there was pleasure, relief, and satisfaction. You went totally limp in his arms and let him guide you to grind your hips just as he liked; “Fuck,” he panted, “you’re even more perfect than I ever— ah— ever imagined, dear niece— sweet omega…”

“Uncle,” you sobbed, clinging onto him tightly. He was right— the pain had gone, for the most part, now all you had was this need for more… for everything. Even though you were so weak and helpless, you found yourself able to move on top of him, bouncing up and down in his lap to find some more of that impossibly-perfect friction; he watched you with pride and lust in his smile. “Aemond, it feels— oh…”

“It feels right,” he finished for you, “doesn’t it?”

You nodded in agreement, shivering when you realised the fingers ghosting up and down your spine were your stepfather’s. “How does she feel?” he asked in a rough voice that would’ve been terrifying if you didn’t trust him completely.

“Hot,” Aemond answered quickly. “So hot inside— she really is a dragon.”

They both laughed a little, though it wasn’t because it was funny— it was a specific emotion you’d never seen on either of them until now. Daemon leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, making you gasp and whine and lean back into his arms as you kept riding Aemond dutifully; Aemond hissed slightly, digging his fingers into your hips.

“She… she tensed up on me when you kissed her there,” Aemond said with a gasp. “Fuck— I didn’t know she could get any tighter…”

“Beautiful,” Daemon praised you in a mumble against your skin, fingers now exploring more as he lightly tickled your sides and teased your breasts. “Are you being good for him, omega? Taking care of your uncle as you should?”

You gasped and nodded, eyes heavy and wet. “Yes— yes, Papa…”

He hummed deeply, properly groping your chest now as he licked your neck, even nipping at it with his teeth to make you tighten inside again and again. “F-fuck,” Aemond choked, “I won’t— I can’t take much more of that, she’s so— she’s perfect, you can’t imagine how perfect—”

“I don’t have to,” Daemon growled, pulling you off of Aemond who whimpered and begged to have you back— but the older man was well past the limit of his patience, snarling as he positioned you onto your hands and knees. He held your shoulder to keep you steady, hard cock flexing at the way you hung your head in submission and turned just enough to look back at him innocently over your shoulder. He smiled as you as he gripped himself inside his trousers, silently praying for the patience not to tear you open as soon as he could. Yes, you were his omega, and his stepdaughter— his property in more ways than one— but he would prefer not to hurt you, and his instincts were fighting against his logical mind in that regard.

When he exposed himself, he saw you trying to look— trying to see if your Papa’s cock would break you, and he just chuckled slightly to himself.

“You’ll be able to take it,” he promised roughly, “you’re made to take it.”

He lined himself up, knocking your knees further apart with his own before plunging inside with a long sigh. You cried again but pushed back against him, too; your hands still clung weakly onto your uncle, who soothed you and kissed your tears away encouragingly.

“You were right,” Daemon sighed, electing to just hold you still and stay buried as deep as he could go for a moment. “She’s— fuck.”

Aemond took one of your hands from his shoulder and guided it down to his cock, still soaked from your slick; he guided you to stroke it with your shaking fingers, whispering filthy praises in your ear while Daemon fucked you slowly (at first). “You have to take care of both of us,” your uncle reminded you. “Gods, you smell so sweet… I could smell you from across the hall, that’s how I found you— I knew you needed me, needed an Alpha to breed you.”

“I… I don’t understand…” you mumbled, gasping as your stepfather picked up his pace and fucked you more roughly.

“We should tell her now,” Daemon decided. “Well, you should— I’m quite busy already— fuck, so tight…”

“Would you like me to tell you everything, sweet girl?” Aemond asked you, tightening your grip on his cock when you nodded. “Just keep— keep stroking me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “anything…”

“Our family is very special,” Aemond explained to you— which you already knew, but clearly there was more to it than you were taught. “There’s a reason we keep to our own, protect our bloodline: some of us are… gifted. Like your stepfather and I.”

“Like you,” Daemon added, though he was struggling to focus on any conversation as he used you.

“I always knew you were meant for more, my lovely niece,” Aemond cooed, though his nostrils flared for a moment as he moved your hand to wank him faster. “And you are— meant to give us a new branch of the family, purer than any that came before…”

Even with your mind still clouded with desperation, you knew how you were expected to do that. “You’ll— you’ll get me pregnant?” you realised with a shaky gasp.

Aemond nodded, smiling as he kissed your face. “Don’t worry— it won’t be as difficult for you as it was for your mother. She’s not like us, she’s… weaker.”

“They all are,” Daemon added, in defence of his wife. “It’s been generations since an omega was born to us.. even in as pure a family as ours, it’s rare— only your uncle and I are Alphas.”

“It makes you much more fertile,” Aemond continued, “it makes us need to care for you— with our bloodline, there’s a small chance any of us could be like this… but our children, with both their parents being this way, they’ll all be gifted in the same way. Think of the generations we’ll sire, and it all starts tonight…”

Clearly, he was excited by the prospect of keeping you bred for years to come, creating a new line of Targaryens guaranteed with these ‘gifts’ of fertility and instinct… well, you weren’t quite as keen. Even as your body longed for the promise of being impregnated, your mind filled with fear. “I— what if I can’t—?” you started to wonder.

“You will,” Aemond promised, without even knowing what concerned you— because he didn’t have to. “You can do anything, omega, you’ll do anything for your Alphas. It’s your nature; you obey.”

Just as he said it, Daemon thrust especially roughly into you and made you quiver. A pleasure began to build in your gut, heavy and hot, while your stepfather let go of all pretence and fucked you with all the passion and possessiveness he’d been holding back for years. He bent down over you and gave open-mouthed kisses to your back, making you feel small in his grasp and feeling the heat of every moan and sigh spread over your skin. “So perfect,” he said again, “it’s better than anything— you really were made for pleasure, weren’t you, omega?”

“Haven’t you had enough?” Aemond sneered at his uncle. “I think it’s time for my turn again.”

“You can have your turn after I’ve knotted her,” Daemon decided.

Aemond grabbed you angrily, pulling you forward and slipping Daemon’s cock out of you— both of you reacting in disappointment.

“Your knot? Please,” Aemond scoffed, “that could take hours— I need her now.”

“So do I,” Daemon insisted, but Aemond was determined to get inside you again. Breathing through his teeth, he pushed his cock back into you roughly, guiding your hips to make sure he filled you to the very brim. Shivering, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him fuck into you, accepting that it was better to let them do whatever they liked with you and just hope you didn’t get ripped to shreds in their fight over you.

“So beautiful,” Aemond sighed just before he kissed you on the lips— you let your mouth go slack right away, offering it for him to claim as well; his kiss was filthy and hungry and desperate, making you moan and whimper his name helplessly as he fucked you harder and harder.

“Don’t make me watch this,” Daemon pleaded with a whine, easily the most pathetic you’d ever heard him sound. “I need— fuck, she smells so good…”

“You can fuck her again,” Aemond promised, only breaking away from the kiss long enough to speak, “when I’m done.”

“When you’re done?” Daemon realised. “You’re going to knot her, aren’t you? Fucking bastard.”

Of course, the only thing that could make Aemond stop kissing you was a chance to argue with your stepfather. “I wouldn’t speak of bastards if I were you, Uncle,” Aemond taunted. “Let her use her hand on you while you wait.”

“Hand? I have much greater ideas than that,” Daemon informed you both proudly. He moved around from his place behind you, kneeling beside where Aemond laid so he could pull you away from the kiss and push his cock up to your face. “Use your mouth, omega— stick your tongue out for me.”

Doing as you were told, you whimpered slightly as he slid the fat head of his cock over your waiting tongue.

“Good,” he praised, staring down at you and petting your hair soothingly. “You do so well for us both, darling— now close your lips on it. Suckle on it, not too hard— fuck, fuck, how perfect you are…”

“I don’t especially care for your bollocks in my face, Uncle,” Aemond frowned.

“Lean away,” Daemon offered, not exactly sympathetic to the issue when he was so focused on the warmth of your mouth on his cock.

“I can’t! Your knee is on my hair!” Aemond snapped, and Daemon finally moved enough for Aemond to yank his head away with a grimace.

“You see why I keep mine shorter now,” Daemon chuckled.

“I doubt that’s exactly why,” Aemond rolled his eyes, but knowing how perverse his uncle could be, he almost worried that he actually had found himself on the other end of the same issue before.

“My apologies,” Daemon offered in a mumble, but Aemond clearly wasn’t going to hold a grudge— he was moaning again already, holding your hips so he could buck up into you, kissing all along your opposite shoulder while your stepfather pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.

In fact, he kept sliding his thick shaft between your swollen lips until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, making you gag. You wanted to apologise, but you didn’t for two reasons: one, your mouth was full; two, Daemon only moaned louder, praising you again. In fact, he kept making you gag over and over until a tear ran down your cheek. “Let her breathe,” Aemond ordered, sounding almost hurt with how worried he was for you.

Daemon pulled out of your mouth to let you gasp and sputter, Aemond holding your face and kissing it repeatedly to try to soothe you. “I-I’m alright,” you promised, “let me try again, please, Papa—”

Daemon grinned darkly as he pushed his cock back up to your lips.

“You’re too sweet, omega— you want so much to please your Alphas, I know.”

“Don’t go so hard on her,” Aemond warned, “you know if you hurt her at all, it will be hard not to kill you.”

Daemon was more amused than concerned by the threat, but he knew his nephew was right— not just about the way Alphas would defend their mates instinctively (Daemon understood that instinct firsthand, it was how poor Vaemond met his end), but about the fact that he should be gentler with you. You weren’t one of his whores, you were his sweet daughter and a new omega— you needed to be treated with care. But it was almost impossible to keep calm in a time like this. “You should know how difficult it is to hold myself back,” Daemon sighed, “having to smell her and see her and listen to her— her mouth isn’t enough, I need her cunt.”

"Well, so do I," Aemond countered.

Unfortunately for Aemond, Daemon was stronger— and terribly impatient. He growled and yanked you off of Aemond, throwing you onto your back and roughly filling you again. You gasped, overwhelmed by being thrown back and forth between them, with never enough time for your body to get properly used to one or the other. It certainly felt different looking up at your stepfather as he fucked you, seeing him groan and bare his neck as he moved his hips quickly. "Papa," you gasped, properly accepting for the first time that it was your stepfather— your mother's husband, your great uncle— fucking you now. He smiled down at you, holding himself up by one hand as he touched your face with the other.

"Darling," he whispered, "you knew, didn't you? That I wanted you in this way?"

Honestly, you weren't sure— it all felt like a lifetime ago now; presenting as an omega was disrupting enough to your worldview, being claimed by your uncle and stepfather made it even more sure that this felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

"Daemon, everyone knew," Aemond assured. "You were never subtle."

You wanted to ask if your mother knew— but the pleasure kept you from speaking anything coherent, and the instincts controlling your body kept you from feeling any guilt. Like Aemond said, it just felt so right, so natural that you knew nothing about this could be wrong.

Aemond pulled you into another kiss, laying beside you and touching you anywhere he could reach— starting first with your breasts, which he broke away from your lips to latch onto next. You moaned loudly, feeling terrible sensitive with Aemond's tongue and lips teasing your hardened nipples. "How full these will be…" Aemond whispered reverently against your skin. "All your milk for our babies… you're incredible— our little omega, you'll carry so many beautiful Targaryens in you…"

You whimpered, reaching down to find Aemond's throbbing cock— he hissed as you gripped it, trying to stroke him the same way he'd guided you before. "I— I want to please you, Alpha…"

He groaned and smiled, coming back up to your lips again but holding your face so he could look at you closely. "I know, sweet girl— it's in your nature. You live to serve, don't you, omega?"

Whining slightly, you nodded, and he captured your mouth in another kiss.

The thrusts into you grew faster and more erratic, rocking your body as you gasped. Aemond's hand slipped down over your mound, finding your swollen bud and rubbing it as Daemon fucked you with ruthless intensity. It was too much: it made your back arch and your throat catch.

"Come, omega," Daemon ordered; helpless to his commands, you sucked in a gasp against Aemond's lips and felt another wave of hot slick leak from between your quivering legs. Both men groaned, and you swore you saw Aemond's eye go black as he took a deep inhale of your heady scent in the air.

"So obedient," Aemond observed, "I hadn't even known that omegas could come on command… what a talent."

There was this embarrassing squelching noise coming from where your stepfather drove his cock into you, your arousal coating his and your thighs as he held the back of your knees.

“Fuck!” Daemon grunted suddenly, and you struggled and whimpered as you felt his cock seem to swell— more and more, well past what you thought was possible, until you cried out from the fullness.

“Alpha!” you sobbed, hearing him snarl as he held your hips to keep you from trying to get away.

“Are you—?” Aemond realised, growling with jealousy. “Fuck, you’re breeding your own stepdaughter, you’re unforgivable…”

“It’s— fuck, just wait, nephew,” Daemon promised, still panting as more of his sticky come flooded inside you.

“I can’t wait,” Aemond whimpered, “I need to breed her, you know I need to—”

“It’ll be worth the wait,” Daemon assured, “it’s unlike anything— gods, she’s—”

He never finished any of those sentences, just moaning and continuing to pump his seed into you as he breathed heavily. “What’s happening?” you asked Aemond with a shaky whimper.

“Your Papa is filling you, omega,” he answered, petting your side as you shivered. “One of the ways we’re different— Alphas, we… we have something called a knot. It keeps us inside so you’ll never waste a drop of seed— but only omegas can fit something so large, we have to… make concessions, with other lovers.”

“We can never be… fully inside, when we finish,” Daemon panted, “or we’ll hurt them— could kill them, really. But you, you… you take it so well, omega, you take it perfectly… fuck!”

“I-it hurts, a little,” you admitted, trying not to move so you wouldn’t disturb the soreness inside you. “It’s— how is it so big?”

Daemon smirked proudly, holding onto you just as tightly though he’d finished spilling his seed already. He tilted his head back slightly first as he took deep and fast breaths, only to drop it forward limply as silver strands hung limply around his face.

"Fuck," Daemon sighed again, "I never could've imagined how it would feel… being so deep within you, that sweet cunt keeping my knot warm inside— darling, it's incredible."

He stroked your face approvingly as you sighed.

"You expect me to wait until it's gone down for my turn to feel that?" Aemond sneered.

"You don't have a choice," Daemon laughed, "you'll hurt her if you try to get her off now. You'll just have to find some patience."

The only instinct stronger than the need to breed was to protect you, and so Aemond snarled as he guided your hand to his aching cock once more as he waited his turn. You felt complete relief, for the first time since the headache began, as you felt Daemon's knot inside you. You didn't feel the same as you had before, though: you felt… better? In a sense. You felt complete. You felt accomplished, useful… needed.

Aemond groaned against your skin as he fucked your fist, kissing along your shoulder and collarbone. "Such a good omega— you'll take me next, won't you? You can satisfy us both, yes?"

"Yes, Alpha— anything, I'll do whatever I can," you promised, addicted already to how rewarding it felt to be good for them. They both smiled proudly.

"You used to be so stubborn," Daemon remembered. "So much changes when you present, doesn't it? Believe it or not, I was rather level-headed before I presented as an Alpha."

"I'll go with 'not'," Aemond decided.

Daemon didn’t notice or mind much what Aemond had said, too focused on looking down at where your leaking cunt managed to fit his knot— he was still amazed by it. He’d spent his whole life pulling out enough to keep the knot outside when he came (that is, when he could manage to finish at all), even though at times it took all his willpower to fight that instinct. It felt perfect to be inside you now— perfect in a way he’d never allowed himself to imagine before.

Aemond’s patience was well past worn; he forced your hand to wrap tightly around his aching cock, fucking your hand as he kissed you hard and whined against your lips. “Omega,” he panted, “even your hand is so divine— but I need to be inside you, I need to breed and fill you, please—”

“Not much longer,” Daemon promised, though he was clearly irritated. “It takes time, nephew.”

You could tell Aemond wanted to say something particularly catty in that moment— probably something about how it was impressive that Daemon could keep his knot at all at his age— but only a groan fell from his mouth as you squeezed his cock a little tighter. He guided your hand lower to rub gently over his balls, and you realised how desperate he really was when you felt how swollen they’d become, how tender they were as you barely touched them and he hissed in a breath. “Fuck,” he panted, “all that come will be inside you soon— I know how badly you need it, omega, to be bred by your uncle.”

You whimpered but nodded in agreement, letting him move your hand just how he liked so you could keep his hunger at bay.

As for you, the knot inside you brought you mostly back to reality— but a needy, desperate Alpha beside you kept your omega instincts in control even as some logical thought returned to your mind. That logic made you want to ask them a thousand questions, about what you were and what this all meant and what this would mean for your family… but you couldn’t, because Aemond never stopped kissing you long enough to let you speak. Not that you were exactly fighting to get a word in: you loved the way he kissed you, so you just melted into it and let him go on tasting your mouth while he stroked himself with your hand.

You couldn’t say how long it was before Daemon broke his silence, but however long it was, it went by quickly— for you. For Aemond, it was like a lifetime. “It’s small enough now,” Daemon decided. “You can finally have your turn, nephew— but I know you’ll miss me, little omega, when this pathetic boy is on top of you.”

“Gods, just hurry up,” Aemond choked, and Daemon sighed as he held your hips and unsheathed himself from you. The knot wasn't completely subsided, but it had shrunk significantly— enough for him to hiss as he carefully slid it out. You whimpered as the bulge of it tugged on your sore walls, and made a stinging pain hit your opening as it passed through. But, finally, you were empty… for a split second. Aemond wasted no time getting on top of you and guiding his leaking cock to your hole; he plunged in all at once, making you wince and yelp as you held onto his shoulders, but he ignored the pain he was inflicting and started to move already— he just couldn’t stop himself.

The sting was worth it, though, to hear his loud, satisfied moans; his voice was rougher and deeper than you’d ever heard it, filled with awe as he watched your body take him fully with every thrust. He wasn’t moving very quickly yet— faster than you were ready for, yes, but still savouring the feeling of you for himself.

“I hope she’s not too stretched out from my knot,” Daemon chuckled, obviously not genuine— he hoped his nephew could feel the difference, so he was silently disappointed when Aemond shook his head.

“She feels just as before,” Aemond breathed, “just as tight and warm— just as perfect, fuck, she really was made for this. I would never have taken another woman if I knew this was waiting for me— if I knew I could have an omega to breed someday.”

“I was under the impression you hadn’t taken other women,” Daemon laughed, “you certainly fuck like a virgin.”

“You ramble like a drunk,” Aemond sneered in reply, losing any interest in verbally sparring with his uncle as he started to move just a bit faster inside you. "Beautiful," he sighed as he leaned down, holding you close, kissing your tears away as he fucked your sore cunt as gently as he could manage. "So beautiful, my omega— you take me so well, even when it hurts you… you take your Alpha so well."

His praise made it all worth it, and soon enough the soreness was forgotten— as was his attempting to be careful with you; within a few minutes he was holding you tight and fucking into you ruthlessly, panting beside your face while he slammed his cock into the very end of your insides. Even still, even after hours of your Alphas taking turns with you, your body never stopped leaking slick for them, until Aemond was soaked in your heat— his cock, balls, thighs, even dripping down to the bed beneath you…

“It won’t be much longer now,” he warned. “You’ll be bred— my child in you, sweet girl, is that what you want? All that ache’s going to go away, once you’re good and pregnant, like you were meant to be.”

It sounded like everything you’d ever wanted; it called to your most primal desires and made pleasure course through your veins until your skin was alight with ecstasy. "Please, Alpha!" you sobbed, holding onto him tightly. "I want your knot! I want your baby…"

"Fuck," Aemond gasped, baring his neck to you as he thrusted faster, faster, faster— you were afraid you would go numb inside from the friction, heat building until it all collapsed; you twitched and jolted from the orgasm overtaking you, just as Aemond’s knot began to swell. You felt it, like you had with Daemon: the warm come flooding inside your spent cunt, and your eyes rolled back as you went limp. It hurt to take another knot, yes, but you were too exhausted to even react. You were too exhausted to even think, even though you had much to think about: like the fact that your uncle and stepfather had just claimed and taken you, bred you, both of them fully intending to have you with child soon. They’d have no way to tell whose child it was, would that even matter? Would your mother stay married to Daemon— would either of them, or both, take you as their wife? What would you say when, inevitably, questions arose?

None of those questions seemed to matter now… all you could think of was the man above you and inside you, the perfect expression of relief on his face as his knot kept growing inside you.

"O-oh," he choked, tightening his fist beside your head, "it feels so…"

"I know," Daemon smirked proudly. "It's unlike anything else, isn't it?"

Aemond nodded weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "Omega… our perfect omega…"

Daemon leaned down to join in on the praise, petting your head as you let your heavy eyes fall shut. "You did so well for us both," he whispered to you. "You may rest now— you did beautifully, now rest…"

You weren’t able to drift to sleep until they were both holding you; Aemond still inside and surrounding you while Daemon gently lifted you to cradle you from behind, with his chest to your back. You should’ve felt confused, maybe guilty, maybe even disgusted as you reckoned with what you had done— what had been done to you. Instead, you only felt at peace, safe and satisfied. You were blessed with a gentle and dreamless sleep as your Alphas held you, still whispering to you sometimes— still discussing softly with each other what they would do next. From now on, you could leave the thinking and worrying to them, and just fulfil your natural purpose. It sounded nice, actually: lots of pure Targaryen babies, yours and Aemond’s and Daemon’s children, a strange but beautiful family.

For something you couldn’t have even imagined this morning, it seemed so obvious to you now… obvious, and sort of inevitable. Not that you minded; you were happy to be theirs.

#daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fic

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elissanatok · 1 year

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-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

part 2

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

You didn't know what you had expected when you imagined looking into his face again. a smile maybe? A hint of the boy he used to be? Well - you surely did not get whatever it was you had expected.

He looked at you with a piercing but very bored look, before he let his eye drift again to your little brother. You nervously looked from your little brother to your older one. Jacerys tried to send you a reassuring look, or maybe it was just one that screamed “I told you so”.

Before leaving Dragonstone he and your mother told you not to expect any kindness from the rest of your family. You were disappointed that they seemed to be right and that the little hope Daemon gave you when he talked about your friendship as children flew away with the wind.

You had missed him dearly. Your Aemond. But maybe this was not him. His hair had grown longer, although not as long as yours, and laid pin straight against his back. The black eyepatch he wore made him look almost forbidden. It made him look dangerous. But your Aemond was not a dangerous boy. But then again - this was not him.

Your Aemond used to read in books, spend his days learning, dreaming and talking about Dragons. Teaching you about them. This Aemond looked like he was ready - had dreamed and talked about feeding you to them.

The Queen's eyes held a little bit more warmth when she met your gaze. Sometimes she thought you looked more like her daughter than Rhaenryas but then again, your eyes held the same fire as your mothers.

The reason for your visit was a sad one, sure, who would be the heir of driftmark was important, not for you, but for your boys. You would be married off, no matter what Daemon claimed, if an alliance with House Winterfell was needed, Cregan would be the first to take your hand. You liked him. He was a kind man. A strong one too, but your relationship held no meaning, no feelings, no friendship.

Standing with your shoulders straight and your chin held high, you listened to Vaemond.”Don´t you dare tell me, who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.” You could see the rage forming in his eyes. “Allow it?”, your sick grandfather questioned. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The first time you flinched, was when he raised his voice, pointing at Lucerys. “That- is no true Velaryon- and certainly no nephew of mine.”

Your mother tried calming the situation, after quickly looking at her only daughter. “Go to your chambers, you have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my trueborn grandson.”

“You may run your house as you see fit. but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the doom.”

You really wished for someone to hold your hand. Stand in front of you, protect you from the eyes in the room that bore into your golden skin, but there was just your family and you in your flame red dress.

“And a thousand trigulatons besides.”. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this -”

You and your little brother were similar in some ways, in ways like anxious behavior. In ways like his hands trembling just as much as yours behind his back. “Say it.”, whispered Daemon, making your knees feel weak for what was about to come. You were no fighter. No ruler. Just a woman. And a brutally soft one too. “Her children are Bastards!!”Vaemond yelled into the room, at the king, making you slightly flinch at the sudden loudness of his voice.

“And she, and her daughter, are whores.”

Your eyes widened, while people let out gasps. Insulting your mother, married and with children was one thing, insulting you, a girl who had not even earned a kiss to her cheek yet, was something entirely else. You were not even promised yet.

Unknown to you, Aemonds eye had locked onto your form the moment Vaemond stepped closer to you. His gasp was a short one, a quiet too, but he could not believe someone dared insulting you. Yes, you may have shared the features of your brothers, even though you were much more beautiful to him, but your eyes were the purest purple he had seen in his house. There was no way someone could doubt where you belonged.

In his opinion, you would always belong right next to him. He wished he could have shielded you from harsh words and glances, but he could not forget who you stood next to, the boy who took his eye and the woman who wanted the throne.

His fists clenched behind his back, he watched his father stand up, heavy breathing. “I- will have your tongue for that.”

You had heard Daemon lifting his sword, and you had seen it from the corner of your eye, but still you did not stop looking at anything but Haelenas dress. His blood flooded in front of your feet. “He can keep his tongue.” Daemon shot you a look. Looking for tears on your face as usual, but no, you seemed to be somewhere else.

Aemond looked at his uncle with appreciation. He wished he would be bold enough, could show his care for you openly enough to chop a head off, but he couldn't have done it yet, not in front of everyone else at least.

Part 3

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floatyflowers · 1 year

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Dark Platonic! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader x Dark Platonic! Alicent Hightower

You are the surviving twin of Baelon Targaryen.

Even though Rhaenyra was devastated by her mother's death, she never blamed you.

Instead, she took care of you, acting as a mother to you, so you don't feel deprived.

She would spend most of her free time with you, making sure that you are always comfortable and happy.

When Daemon stole the dragon egg, Rhaenyra flew over to Dragonstone herself and got it back, before placing it in your cradle.

Rhaenyra was happy to have you all to herself, that was until Alicent got married to Viserys, becoming yours and Rhaenyra's stepmother.

One day, your older sister visited your nursery early in the morning to take you riding with her like she always does, but found Alicent already there, holding you in her arms.

"I believe it is too dangerous for (Y/n) to go riding with you, Rhaenyra, she is still a babe"

"I know what is better for my sister, your highness"

And that's where the real rivalry between the older princess and the queen started.

Alicent made herself a prominent mother figure in your life, believing that she has that right.

Yet, Rhaenyra made sure to move your crib to her quarters, so her ex-friend doesn't get to spend time with you.

But, Alicent always managed to find a way to do so, by simply ordering the servants to bring you to her when Rhaenyra is not around.

Imagine the shock and jealousy Alicent felt when you called your older sister 'mama', and Rhaenyra did not bother to correct you.

Maybe you called your sister that, because how similar in appearance the both of you are.

Little does, Alicent know, that Rhaenyra has been training you to call her that.

When Alicent got pregnant and gave birth to Aegon, Rhaenyra thought that she would stop caring about you.

But, the Queen became more obsessed with you, she even used the excuse for you to share a nursery with her son, so you two could become playmates.

Years pass, and you grow to be a beautiful girl, and start receiving requests for your hand in marriage.

But everyone knows that there are only two candidates to be taken seriously.

Jacaerys and Aegon.

Of course, Rhaenyra managed to win the favor of her father like she has always done and Viserys agreed to betroth you to Jacaerys.

However, Alicent had Larys make his spies spread rumors about you losing your maidenhood to Aegon.

Which made Viserys wed you to Aegon in the end in hopes to quiet down those rumors.

Alicent might have won that battle, but still Rhaenyra will win the many upcoming battles.

#tw: toxic relationships #yandere house of the dragon #platonic yandere #aegon ii targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent x reader #rhaenyra x reader #daughter reader #reader insert

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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months

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Maroon (part four)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

And I lost you The one I was dancin' with In New York, no shoes Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

series list: part one - part two - part three - part four -

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, language, a LOT of tension, very event-heavy

word count: 11.4k

The Dragonstone ball is here. Will the reader and Aemond finally reconcile, or will things stand in the way? Again.

It had been eleven days of bliss.

Eleven days since Aemond visited you in the bookstore, and you found him waiting for you at the corner table, perfectly illuminated like some mythical Valyrian god.

Eleven days since he confessed his feelings for you, asked you to be his partner to the Dragonstone Ball.

Afterward, he had started picking you up from lectures, taking you to places around the city, visiting you more frequently, shadowing you when you spend time with Helaena, to which she would simply roll her eyes and jest about being a “third wheel.”

You found yourselves in their secluded estate an hour away from the city, sitting in the clearing of a beautiful lush field overgrown with blue lupines and marigolds.

By then you still had not gotten accustomed to being with Aemond. Your heart still skipped each time your hands touched, and he gazed at you with longing.

You had come to realize just how good and proper of a lover he can be. He was careful not to overstep any line, not to take things too fast. You know you’re not experienced in this kind of thing, either. A connection so real. Something like that cursed four-letter L word that the both of you had managed to avoid when it comes to crushes, dating, romantic relationships in general.

He sat on the green-and-black gingham blanket that he previously laid down on the grass in a flourish. You had giggled when the wind threatened to whip it over his head.

“Laugh it up, darling.” He playfully glared at you, which didn’t do much to quell your laughter. Aemond watched on, feeling warm at the sight.

You watched him, studying as the outline of the side of his face eclipses the sunlight in the horizon.

He has no idea, does he?

He seemed oblivious to your staring, until he suddenly spoke, still keeping his gaze trained forward to the trees, “I’m glad I have your full attention.”

You were certain all the blood rushed to your cheeks at his remark, but you scoffed, and playfully shoved him. He was caught off guard, and failed to prop himself upright in time.

He shot you a glare as he brushed himself off. Without any warning, he wiggles his fingers against your side, making you audibly yelp in surprise.

The bastard fucking tickled me.

“You did not just…”

“Oh, but I did, darling.” Aemond nodded slowly, taunting you.

You raised your hand to retaliate, but that didn’t work. Because in a flash of movement, Aemond grabbed your forearm and then your waist.

And then, you found yourself underneath him, lying back on the mat. His halo of white-gold hair framing his face as he hovers above you, glowing brighter than the fading sunlight.

When his lips met yours, you realized that there truly were moments in life when time stands still. When everything is reduced to a humming of heartbeats in sync, and of someone else's warmth against you.

When his blue eyes blazed into your own, you thought that maybe… just maybe… that was what it was like to be in love.

-----------------------

Love, love, love. What is it really good for? Aemond has seen people fall apart because of it, suffer in spite of it.

He is quite sure that his mother has grown to love his father, despite theirs being a marriage of convenience. This is why she continues to care for him, and turns her cheek at any wrong done to her.

Aemond has been on the receiving end of his mother's love, more so than his siblings. But sometimes he wonders if this is borne out of obligation and instinct. Would she still love him if he wasn't her only doting son - with Aegon never in the picture, and Daeron having grown indifferent to family affairs?

Does his mother truly see him, for all that he is, or does she see some idealized version of herself? One that she puts on a pedestal? Her golden child who has the chance to attain what she never could.

There are times when Aemond fears that he does feel love himself, or not the truest form of it, at least. Sure, he loves his family. But is it also due to an uncontrollable pull of the heart, or simply out of duty? Does he feel like he needs to love them, being of the same blood? Has he just gotten used to being the binding force among his siblings, shepherding them like he actually is the eldest child? Do they even love him in turn? Certainly not with the same ferocity, Aemond knows, but in their own way? Most times, he finds it hard to tell.

It’s all like a game. They are all pieces on a chess board, playing a match that has no end. Moves and countermoves - isn’t this all that love is? Do something for them, protect them, as they will do for you. It is ultimately the right thing to do.

But with you, Aemond knows it’s different. It has been, since you stumbled into his life. He never felt the need to maintain a sense of devotion. Never really gave it much thought, or any planning. It was just there. Out of the blue. Much to his surprise, and not without hesitation.

He did not understand what it was at first. You certainly did not need him. Did not ask anything of him. He saw how you approached him with no expectation. He was never Aemond Targaryen, Prince of the City, to you.

Only Aemond. Your best friend’s mildly sullen yet cordial brother.

And you, well… you were just a passing fancy. Not bad to look at, pleasant enough to talk to.

Until you weren’t just that.

There were times when Aemond feared that did not feel love himself.

Until you.

And you became everything.

-----------------------

3 hours before the Dragonstone ball

Alicent has been walking in a flurry all over the penthouse, her bluetooth earpiece buzzing constantly. Having final consultations with event coordinators, on-site production staff, caterers, florists, and security staff, among others.

Talia trails her all around the vast living room, prepared to give a helping hand.

“Yes, yes, that was the one that I asked for, I don’t know why I have to clarify this again,” Alicent seethes, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking up at the ceiling in her frustration. The caller’s rushed apologies echo from her earpiece.

Her youngest son walks past her, an ascot tie loosely hanging around his neck.

“Daeron!” Alicent grabs him by the arm. “Are you all settled? Have you finally gone through options with the tailor?”

“Yes, mother,” Daeron cheekily sneers at Alicent’s worried expression. “I’ve just chosen which necktie I’ll be wearing, as you can see here. Just went down to get something to eat. Do try to relax, would you?”

“What about your brother? Please tell me he has had his suit vetted.”

Daeron replies, “I assume you mean Aemond, since Aegon will probably turn up in something ridiculous, like an inflatable dragon costume.”

Alicent scoffs before responding dryly, “If he actually does that, I just might consider sending him to the Silent Sisters institute.”

Daeron shrugs, “Best keep the family doctor close by, then. Oh, and Aemond’s all prepped since last week! You know him. Mr. Stickler-for-rules with a stick right up his a - ”

“Daeron!” Alicent exclaims.

“Alright, alright, I’m kidding!” Daeron puts his hands up, laughing. He turns on his heel and strolls down the hallway.

“My children,” Alicent sighs, sharing a look with Talia, who smiles knowingly in response. “Whatever will I do with them?”

“Oh, what will you do without them, ma’am?” Talia offers.

Alicent hums in acknowledgement. She feels as if the lines on her face have deepened the past few months, though they’ve long made themselves evident, due to all her ceaseless worrying about Aemond's condition and all this commotion about the ball. But what else is there to do?

She removes her earpiece and places it on Talia’s awaiting palm.

“Are you alright, ma’am? Do you need some refreshments, perhaps?” Talia asks.

“I need…” Alicent sighs, preparing herself for the task to come. “I need to go see my son.”

“He isn’t here at the moment, ma’am.” Talia shuffles from one foot to the other, a force of habit when having to share something that may induce more stress to Alicent. “He left for his apartment at Blackwater Residences last night. He has requested that everything he needs for the ball be sent to him there.”

“And I was not informed of this because?” Alicent inquires, her mask of composure remaining. Aemond used to be the one she would run to first, should she need anything. Her confidante. Her dutiful son. And he’s always been comfortable enough to keep her in the loop about his affairs.

But not lately. Not since the accident. Her son has rebuilt the impenetrable wall around him, and she has not been allowed access inside.

“Well, you’ve been very busy, ma’am. And Sir Aemond really didn’t tell anyone, he just informed me so that I may relay the message as I should.”

Alicent sighs in finality, “Fine. That’s fine. Have we made sure that his partner for the ball is in line? That model… uhhm, Alys, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am, she has made all the necessary preparations. And she is already aware of the regulations to follow, as she has attended the ball with Sir Aemond before.”

A question remains in Alicent’s mind. “You alluded once to something going on between Aemond and Helaena’s friend. The one who’s studying at the local university? I had thought that she would be his partner…” She trails off, remembering the one time she crossed paths with you. It was one evening in the penthouse, her kids and a number of their acquaintances sitting around a big round table of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. She only came round for a moment to retrieve something from her office, lingering in the foyer with Talia to get some documents in order.

She noticed you because you were sitting across the table from Aemond, who had been sneaking looks at you the entire night. Aemond clearly thought no one would notice, but if anyone would, it would be Alicent.

Aemond has always been the most stoic of her sons, the least likely to wear his heart on his sleeve. But she saw, plain as day, that he was drawn to you.

Her son fancied you, but has something changed? As for Alys, Alicent has never been her biggest fan when it came to Aemond. Their age gap is not her favourite thing, but how can Alicent claim to be a judge on that matter when the man she married is 11 years older than her? She’s chosen to set that aside, but the Rivers model has struck her as highly self-regarding and standoffish.

Alicent would never admit it to herself, but perhaps the main reason why she dislikes Alys Rivers is that she sees part of herself in her. What she might have devolved into if she hadn’t married for power and privilege at a young age. Alicent, Alys. The latter being a recreational drug-addled, provocative social climber who Alicent doesn't think is good for her son.

Talia dithers on her response. Who can explain what is going on in Aemond’s mind after all? It is clear that the attraction remains, but his actions are all over the place. “As I gathered, ma’am, he did ask her. But… and I am not sure why, he ended up asking Miss Alys instead. Which is a downright shame, if I may add. She is really a sweet young girl. She and Miss Helaena dote on each other.”

“A shame, indeed,” Alicent hums. She begins walking down the hallway, Talia in tow, who then adds, “She will still be at the ball, though, ma’am. As Sir Jacaerys’ partner.”

Alicent’s brows furrow, and a grimace flashed across her face on instinct. “Got a Strong pup, has she?”

“They’re close friends - ”

“So I’m not certain what’s been going about, but my son likes her… or used to like her. But now he’s coming with Alys, and she’s coming with Jace?” Alicent spins on her heel, huffing out her confusion, her fiery auburn hair whipping around her. Regarding Talia whilst shaking her head, she exclaims, “Quite the handful this ball is turning out to be, and isn’t that just exactly what I need?”

-----------------------

Alys Rivers rarely does her own makeup, preferring the ease of having a glam team on call 24/7.

But as she deftly applies medical-grade concealer on Aemond’s scar, her hands pat and press with a practiced ease of someone who had to do her own makeup on public buses at the age of 16, sneaking off to castings without telling her foster parents.

She huffs with impatience from her stool. “Could you keep your expression neutral, dear? I dunno why you look like you’re in pain.”

Aemond responds in a cold voice, “Why, do you find that this is something I should enjoy, dearest? You’re smattering something on my face to make me look presentable. I’m allowed to react in a manner of my choosing. My sincere apologies if it’s not acceptable for you.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Alys drops her hand, frustration clear on her face. “Look, I can see that you don’t want to come to the ball.” She packs on more product on the brush in a rapid motion.

“Oh, is that your input?” Aemond mumbles, disinterested. He simply wishes he had placed his glass of firewine within reach.

“Yes, that is my input,” Alys snaps in return. When her brush meets Aemond’s face again, she does it with less care and more impatience. “If you’re not going to be civil to me, then you should have accepted the help of the makeup artist your mother assigned - ”

“I won’t have some fucking stranger’s hands all over my - ”

“I know!” Alys emphasizes, her exasperation growing evident. “Which is why I’m here. Which is why I agreed to help when you asked. I - ” She stops working, leaning back, her shoulders stooped in her frustration. “I only want to help you, Aemond. I care about you. You know this.”

Aemond finally looks at the woman sitting in front of him. Appraising her irate expression, which he had caused. “I did not want this. This… concealment of my scar was my mother’s idea, to keep up appearances - ”

“Oh, I know - ”

“I don’t know how you expect me to be, Alys, considering - ”

Alys stands abruptly, walking away to look out the window. “Aemond, this has been going on even before that godforsaken accident.”

Aemond sighs deeply, wanting to be anywhere else but in the room. Only that isn’t true, he wouldn’t want to just anywhere else.

He wants to be with you.

Alys continues, “It all started that night when I visited you and you sent me away. Next thing I know there’s been whispers of you going around with some random girl.” She does not mention you by name. It’s better not to give you that power. She doesn’t need Aemond’s attention to drift any further from her than it already has.

She has not been blind to the switch in his demeanour, having been on the brunt end of his anger one too many times. He still maintains his impeccable sense of decorum and tact most of the time, but she can easily tell that it's only for show.

She once felt Aemond’s eyes on her, with some form of desire. Whatever he is capable of mustering, at least, even if it was never enough for Alys. At least she had hope that it could turn into something more. She can change him. Make him fall in love with her. But now, it’s like he sees straight through her. Only calling on her when absolutely necessary. Like this very moment.

“Hmm.” Aemond looks to the side. He feels the weight of the product Alys just applied on his scar and it starts to irritate him. More so than the situation at hand, to his surprise. “What do you want from me?” He lifts his arms up offhandedly.

“I heard… about you and her. I’m not an idiot,” Alys says, trying not to sound desperate.

“No one ever said that you are,” Aemond responds impatiently.

“Did you ask her to come with you to the ball before you asked me? Am I just some last resort…”

“The fuck does it matter? You’re here because I asked you, did I not?” Aemond snaps, whirring around, away from Alys. The reminder of you is throwing him off, threatening to chip away at the mask of composure that he has prepared for this night.

He hasn’t been able to shake off the scent of your skin, how warm you felt against him, that night he last saw you.

And tonight, he will see you again. Aemond never fancied himself a romantic, but he knows that your presence would be the one thing that will make this night worthwhile. This dreaded ball, which he has never looked forward to. Save for a few short weeks when he thought it would be you on his arm.

But he fucked it all up, didn’t he? All because he’s too weak to let you see him as he is. He thinks he’s not good enough for you. But a part of him has always known, because of your goodness, your undeniable warmth, that you would not mind the way he is right now. You would accept the person he has become - that’s just who you are. Good.

And even then, Aemond always comes back around to the same conclusion. You’re too good for him; he’s not good enough for you. Might as well save both of you the pain, and try to stay away.

And maybe, he can use Alys as a distraction. Choosing to bring her to the ball was an act of a coward, Aemond knows. Making you feel unwanted, pushed to the side.

But this is what he deserves. The bruises on his knuckles from that incident in Pentos have only just healed, after all. He is still out of control.

He’s never been a true believer, but the gods only know what he might do when he sees you on his nephew’s arm. Just the image of it causes him to clench his jaw in distaste.

In pure jealousy.

Aemond is blind to the possibility that you and his Jace are only friends, and will stay that way. All he sees in another man, holding you, laughing with you, looking at you like you’re the best thing in this world.

Another man, and not him. Aemond is going to need a lot of ale to get through the night.

And maybe more.

Alys snaps him out of thoughts of you, walking across the room in a flash, until she stands right in front of Aemond. “Do you think you can just use me like this? I’m not second best, Aemond. You asked me to come with you, but you’re acting like you wouldn’t even touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

Aemond remains unmoving, gauging her livid expression. Calculating the next move to make. He’s found himself settling more and more into his old rhythm. Careful, methodical. Almost machiavellian. Never giving away too much. Far from how genuine he allowed himself to be around you. He did not have to pretend or mask anything. But that was then. That was with you.

“Say something, goddamnit,” Alys breathes, her slender fingers wrapping around his forearm.

Aemond’s eyes drift to Alys’ touch, feeling nothing at all. There used to be a time when he would want her company. Crave it even. Although that may have been for the most depraved purposes, one that he allows himself to indulge in now and again, it was still theirs.

Now, Aemond cannot feel right having anything with anyone else. When all he wants is you.

“I asked you to the ball because I wanted to, Alys.” Aemond relents, choosing to take the calmer road. He presses further, knowing that Alys would need more assurance than that. “You should know that I don’t trust many people, and yet here you are. That should count for something.” The sentiment is honest, at least, if not completely heartfelt.

It isn’t as if Aemond grew to have Alys as a confidante by choice. It began as a series of run-ins, then deliberate nighttime invitations.. The trust he formed with her does not mean he values her above anyone else. It was more so that he knew, even early on, that he could never be tethered to her. They had an understanding of the nature of their relationship.

He knew he would not fall in love with her. And he knows because has tried. It spares him from ever truly being vulnerable. It spares them both from any pain.

He takes her hand in his, a final gesture to temper her storm of emotion. And it’s enough. For now.

When Alys leans in to plant her mouth on his, he sees it coming. But he stops himself from taking a step back, or turning his head. He knows that Alys would not dare back out of being his partner for the ball, the publicity and prestige of it all too good to her to pass on. But he does not want to risk having the same useless argument again.

The kiss is cold, fleeting. It leaves a faint hint of maroon by the corner of Aemond’s lips. Like a mark of betrayal.

“Okay, honey.” Alys reaches upward to smooth his hair. “Let’s do some final touches on you, then I’ll go to my suite and get ready.”

Some time later, she finally reaches some satisfaction on her work on Aemond’s scar and departs the room, eager to get started on her lengthier high-profile event glam routine.

Aemond only has one consolation.

He gets to freely indulge on firewine now.

-----------------------

You sit in anticipation at the edge of the bed in your humble apartment.

Helaena had granted your request that you get ready in the confines of your own small but comfortable space, though she preferred that you take her up on her offer of getting ready in their penthouse.

You knew it was best to concede to your friend when she said she would send someone to deliver your dress and to assist you. It couldn’t hurt, you thought, half-expecting that it would only be Talia.

You didn’t expect that sending someone in Helaena’s terms would mean two makeup artists, a hair stylist and his assistant, a nail technician, and Baela Targaryen, who had quickly risen through the ranks of the fashion industry with her clothing brand, Moondancer.

Little did you know that Baela herself would be arriving at your door.

“Hello, sweetheart. I heard from a little birdie that you might need some assistance?” Baela says, stepping into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, confidently occupying any space.

“Baela!” you exclaim. “How are you? Helaena did say she would send someone.” Before you could shut the door, a garment rack comes rolling through, about a dozen designer dresses whipping right past you.

“Where to, ma’am?” A lanky man asks, his mop of ginger hair peering from behind the rack.

“Just there,” Baela gestures to a far wall, before glancing at you, as if remembering that it is in fact your apartment. “Is it fine?”

“Sure,” you smile. As if refusal was an option.

“Our dearest Helaena has informed me of your top choices,” Baela says, as her red-haired assistant began to gingerly pull each dress out from their garment covers. “And I commend your taste, by the way, most of these are my favourite pieces from the collection.”

Soon enough, all of the dresses are revealed to you, each one more beautiful than the next.

“These are all amazing, Baela. Thank you. I owe you.” you say appreciatively, pulling her into a hug.

Baela keeps an arm over your shoulders when you pull apart, leading you to take a closer look. “You don’t owe me anything, sweet. So,” she says, “what are we thinking?”

“This one seems reasonable,” your hand drifts over a plum coloured dress, the material feeling nothing short of luxurious to the touch. It is a lovely A-line maxi dress, with intricate sequin detailing all over.

“Reasonable,” Baela snorts. “It’s lovely and all, but awfully safe, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with being safe?” you raise an eyebrow at her statement. “This is my first and possibly only Dragonstone ball, Baela. I just want to get through it without making a fool out of myself.”

“But you won’t make a fool of yourself,” Baela squeezes your shoulder in encouragement. “You belong there just as much as anyone else. Maybe even more so, because we actually do like you. Jace especially.”

Baela has a reputation for being quite the enterprising young woman, making a name for herself outside of the Targaryen business empire through her brand. She takes no prisoners, they say. If she wants something, she will go and get it herself. Most find her intimidating, and you count yourself lucky to be at the receiving end of her sweeter side.

“Hmm,” you feel a sense of ease wash over you, making you brush through the other dresses on the rack.

“This dress you chose is nice, and if safe is what you want then…” Baela gives you a once-over, her eyes gaining a mischievous spark. “... that’s all well and good. But, sweetheart, don’t you want to leave Aemond a groveling mess by your high-heeled feet?”

Your stunned expression betrays you, hindering any attempt at denial.

“Oh, I know.” Baela smirks. “Let’s just say that Hel may or not have clued me in on how absolutely childish he was to ditch you like that. I’ve always been of the opinion that my dear cousin needs to get his damn head screwed on straight, but hey, I might be biased.” She raises her hands, knowing she already got her point across.

It won’t be long before she wins you over to a not-entirely-safe dress.

The idea of Aemond possibly exhibiting any form of adoration upon seeing you at the ball is one that you have entertained too many times in the months leading up to tonight. To deny that would be foolish.

Some part of you wants to save yourself from what can only be described as the rollercoaster of attempting to maneuver a relationship with Aemond. But an even greater part… just can’t let him go.

You sigh in finality. Baela grins at that. She clearly won this one, but there was never really any doubt.

“I’m glad you agree, because I have something for you.” She nods over to her assistant, who promptly leaves the room and returns with another dress. The dress.

“Baela, what in seven hells.” You appraised the dress with evident stars in your eyes. “This… this was not in the catalogue Hel made me choose from.”

“Of course not, silly,” Baela responds proudly. “Because I designed this just for you.”

You shake your head in amazement, lightly asking, “What if I had stuck to my first choice, huh?” You wouldn’t have, not after seeing the dress, and you know Baela is aware of this.

“Impossible,” Baela reaches for the dress and holds it against you, studying you like a subject. “I had planned to custom make dresses for the ladies in the family anyhow. Well, apart from my beloved aunt - your dearest’s mother - so making one for you too was a no-brainer.”

You thank her profusely, as she and her assistant, whom you discover is named Lancel, check how the dress fits you. Seeing if any last-minute alterations were needed, but there was really nothing else to do with it.

It was perfect.

“Lancel will stay to assist you, and Helaena’s sending a whole team, and they should be here soon.” Baela says, growing busy with her buzzing phone. “I’ll be off to prepare myself.”

“I don’t know what else to say, but thank you again, Baela. Helaena said you would be in charge of our dresses but I certainly did not expect this.” You say sincerely, as you see her to the door.

“It was my pleasure,” Baela responds, and in true fashion, drops her head in a dramatic bow. As she walks down the hall, she does not miss her chance in calling back and adding, “and it will be an even bigger pleasure to witness the absolute anguish in Aemond’s face when he sees you.”

You welcome the shiver that runs up your spine at the thought of that. That’ll show him.

As if on cue, the rest of your designated prep team arrive not long after, and you surrender yourself to the frenzy that followed.

-----------------------

The Dragonstone Ball

The Valyrian Hall is a place of marvel in the city.

Erected nearly a century to the day, it essentially marked the dominance of the Targaryen empire in the country. Designed like an amphitheatre, the looming structure has hosted many history-marking events.

As befits it, it is also the venue for the annual Dragonstone Ball. Revamped for the purposes of each ball, it transforms into a hub of merrymaking and pageantry. Its attendees include no other than the rest of the nobility, dignitaries, notable artists and academics, as well as the nouveau riche.

The country of Westeros is officially an oligarchy, with the heads of the most powerful Houses in power. But the unspoken truth of it is that the Targaryens rule over them all.

And no expense is spared by the ruling family of the country.

The media is flocked outside the hall, a thousand cameras flashing at each arriving guest. Hurling empty exclamations at the impeccably dressed attendees walking down the black carpet. The theme for this year was simple - Firelight - a play on the Targaryen and Hightower slogans, honouring the long-standing alliance between the two families. The dress code warranted only their traditional colours to be worn - red and black, green and silver.

Viserys himself was the mastermind behind the theme, in an effort to make a show of strength in the family, after the horrid incident between Aemond and Lucerys. Alicent was slow to warm to the idea, if she ever did at all.

Tensions are still high, especially between the mothers of two belligerents, with Alicent having shared unsavoury comments about Lucerys’ upbringing.

And of course, it is an open secret in this year’s event that everyone is in anticipation of finally seeing what has become of Aemond Targaryen.

-----------------------

Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and beautiful, standing tall with a quiet confidence you didn’t think you could muster.

Clad in the dazzling red gown Baela crafted specifically for you, and your tresses adorned with an embellished tiara crafted by the silversmiths of Volantis, you surprisingly do not feel like a whole other person. Not exactly.

You feel more yourself than you ever had before.

“I could be a Targaryen,” you jokingly share with Jace as you both study yourselves in the mirror. “If only I had that damned silver hair.”

“Trust me when I say that it’s not as fun as people might think,” he laughs in response, catching your eyes in the reflection. “But you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whirl around, not even bothering to hide the blush on your face. Jace would see right through you, anyway. “And you look handsome as ever.” You take a deep breath, trying to do away with the nerves that are threatening to emerge. Calm down.

You lightly brush your hands across his shoulders. “Well, I cannot believe that I am going to the ball as the famous Jacaerys Velaryon’s date. What an honour, really. You’re practically a prince!”

“Oh, ha-ha,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m just Jace to you, thank you very much.”

“This is going to go great,” you sigh in encouragement, mostly to yourself. I’ll finally see him, won’t I? What could go wrong?

What could go wrong, indeed? How much will it string to see Alys Rivers draped on Aemond’s arm. To see them dancing with each other, barely an inch apart.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jace smooths your perfectly-done hair in reassurance. “You and I are going to enjoy this godsforsaken ball with Hel, Luke, and the rest of our friends.” Don’t even think about him, he wanted to say, but you already knew that.

He holds his arm out for you to take, indicating that it is finally time to head to the ball.

“Shall we?”

You loop your arm around his with a steady smile, bracing yourself for what would turn out to be one of the most memorable nights of your life.

-----------------------

You feel the limousine idly come to a slow stop in the private road leading to the front of the grand Valyrian Hall. All at once, everyone flocks around to catch a glimpse of whom they presume to be members of the Targaryen clan, but the security detail is quick to ensure that none may come too close. Even if it would be impossible to peer through its heavily tinted windows.

“Don’t worry, we won’t come out here.” Jace is quick to note, when he sees the apprehension on your face. “We’ll head inside to the inner courtyard.”

The yelling of photographers outside sounds like a cacophony, an endless buzzing, and you are grateful you don’t have to go right into their throes.

The limousine moves once more, presumably following the one before it, passing the towering gold palisade surrounding the hall.

“Special entrance for special guests, eh?” Jace nudges you, smirking.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You hum in response. You try to fight it, but your mind races. Is he already here? ‘I’ll see you at the ball,’ he said. Sure. What then?

“There are still photographers and members of the media here, but only ones vetted by the family,” Jace explains. “I’ll take the lead, so you don’t have to worry about answering any questions if you don’t want to. Just stick with me.”

Ever the gentleman.

The chauffeur opens the limousine door, and Jace gently tows you along with him. When the blinding camera flashes first hit your eyes, you enter into a sort of haze. Like on autopilot, you don a practiced smile and smoothly walk with Jace down the black carpet.

Jace opts to have only one brief interview, with whom you recognize to be the prolific Mysaria, the head news anchor for the channel owned by the Targaryens.

“And who is your lovely date for this evening?” she beams, and the camera pans over to you.

“This beauty here is y/n, one of my best friends.” Jace drapes an arm around you, then smiles to the camera. You admire how flawless his media training is.

“That’s right,” you hear yourself saying, “someone needs to keep this one in line.”

Mysaria laughs, “Oooh, we love your attitude. Well, you two do make the most gorgeous pairing.”

She asks a few more questions, then the interview quickly wraps, and Mysaria shakes both of your hands in her professional manner.

Event coordinators usher the two of you inside the sprawling foyer, lush with intricate Targaryen red and black tapestry. But right as you start to appreciate the detailed engravings on the bronze panels propped up on the walls, you are directed up a flight of stairs and into a private parlour.

Your shoulders visibly slump in instant relief when you spot some familiar faces.

Helaena stands speaking to Lucerys, who incidentally is her date, as she refused to be paired with anyone unfamiliar. Luke had been gracious enough to volunteer to be her partner.

“Even if her brother and myself fucked each other over a while back, I still love Hel,” you heard him joke once, a pit of dread settling in your stomach. Leave it to Luke to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Look who it is,” Luke greets loudly, “my brother finally looks like an actual human being.”

“Ah, you little shit,” Jace counters, shaking his head fondly. “How’s the limp?”

“Not bad,” Luke props his right leg forward, showing off some progress.”Lucky for me, we’ll be walking at a snail's pace all throughout this bloody thing. You look stunning, by the way.” He winks at you.

“Thanks, Luke.” you smile at him. “So, what a spectacle, huh? It was crazy out there.”

Helaena wraps an arm around your waist, “If you think that was crazy, wait ‘til you enter the main hall.”

“We’ll be announced next. It’s just us left from the family, really. Everyone else has already walked down the proverbial aisle.” Luke comments, straightening his shawl lapels.

The brothers’ choice of attire contrasts yet complements the other’s, with Luke sporting a burgundy three-piece suit and a black tie, whilst Jace dons a simpler black suit and a red tie.

Helaena looks simply otherworldly in her emerald gown, representing the true Hightower heiress that she is.

“Everyone?” you exhale, the words registering. He’s already here.

“You alright? You remember everything from rehearsal?” Jace confirms with you. Yes, I remember rehearsal quite well. The one that Aemond predictably chose not to attend.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod, shaking away any thought of him. We’ll see each other soon enough. “Let’s get this shit done, shall we, partner?”

“You’re up next, Sir Lucerys, Miss Helaena.” The event coordinator summons the pair, directing them to stand in front of the heavy-set ornate doors.

A moment passes, then the doors open with a slow, echoing groan. Helaena shoots you one more smile as she walks through with Lucerys.

You hear the herald’s booming voice announcing their names, just as the doors close once more.

“Two more minutes of this,” Jace remarks. “Or you know, maybe ten, since my brother has to take his sweet time walking down the hall.”

“Hey,” you smack his chest, laughing, “it’s not his fault he still has a limp.”

Taking your hand, Jace leads you in front of the doors. You feel your heart pounding, as the sounds coming from the great hall are amplified.

You turn to Jace, wanting to say something, anything, to calm yourself but your mouth feels dry. “Hey,” he gently croons, coming to your rescue, his hand covering yours as you squeeze his arm, “do you see this?”

Your eyes follow as he points to the figure embossed on the large metal doors.

“It looks like… a dragon?”

“That’s right. I think you know of the myths of Old Valyria, where my family hails from. This dragon is called Balerion, the greatest and largest that my ancestors were said to have claimed.”

“Even in this form, he looks imposing,” you say, gazing at the figure, “and beautiful.”

Jace hums in agreement, adding, “You know, legend has it that Targaryens are of the blood of the dragon. That we, for lack of a better word, are dragons ourselves.”

“Hmm,” you smile at the thought, “and do you believe that?”

Jace shrugs, facing ahead, getting ready. “Why shouldn’t I believe?”

His words inspire a sense of calm, and self-assuredness, quieting your restless mind. I can do this. You hold yourself up, lips curved in a soft smile.

The doors open, revealing the revelry below.

Here we go.

-----------------------

Aemond had been eager to get through with the initial presentation, practically marching through as fast as can be allowed, with Alys clinging on his arm. He did not much care for the dissonant whispering that flooded the hall once the crowd got sight of him. Their missing Prince of the city has returned.

You would think I grew a second fucking head.

It was no use trying to drown them out, even with the orchestra resounding from the balcony.

“What happened to his eye?”

“Is that really him?”

“He looks…”

“In a rush, are we, honey?” Alys asked through gritted teeth, annoyed, but kept her signature sultry expression intact. She pulled him closer to her, “Keep pace with me now.”

When they finally reached the front of the hall, where the rest of his family assembled, he nearly took a swig out of the flask Aegon was subtly trying to hand over to him.

Until Alicent hissed at the both of them. “Not now, boys.”

The crowd continues to sneak glances at him. In awe or pity, Aemond does not care to know. With every new pairing being announced, he is grateful that their attention is momentarily diverted.

He stands tall in his midnight black formal leather overcoat, with a fitted dark green shirt underneath. His hair has grown longer since his last public appearance, and he now wears it in a half-up manner, with his eyepatch neatly in place over it.

He has come to terms with his appearance, and soon enough, he might even grow to accept the moniker Aemond One-Eye as his brother keeps calling him.

“It’s badass, Aem,” Aegon had drawled. “You look like a Valyrian dragonrider from the old stories with that scar.”

The pairings could have blurred in a haze altogether. Lannister, Arryn, Baratheon, Stark, Tully. On and on it went, but none of them left a mark on Aemond.

There is only one person he is so desperate to see.

When Lucerys Velaryon’s name is announced, Aemond can’t help the distaste he feels. He rolls his shoulders, trying to keep composure, Alys’ arm falling from him. She only regards him from the corner of her eye, likely praying that he doesn’t cause a scene and embarrass her.

He keeps his focus on his sister, as she gracefully floats through the crowd in Hightower green. Such a shame it’s that bastard she got paired with.

Helaena and her partner reach the front of the hall, and she throws him a look as if to say, behave. Aemond ducks his head in acknowledgment, lips curling.

I promise I’ll try to be good. For her sake.

To his left, he hears Helaena whisper, “Any moment now.”

Aemond knows exactly what she means, and does not feel the need to muster a response. The anticipation has devolved into some kind of torture, as all he wants to see you again.

To feel you against him, how your skin would glide smoothly against his, how you would fit together.

The effects of firewine are getting stronger, encroaching on his senses. It dawns on him that perhaps he shouldn’t have imbibed in considerable quantities before the ball, but no matter.

The herald begins his next announcement.

“Finally, let us welcome Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Laenor Velaryon…”

“More like Strong,” Aegon mumbles under his breath, but Aemond no longer pays him any mind.

“... and Rhaenyra Targaryen. With his partner…”

The herald says your name, and Aemond can practically feel his heart lodged in his throat. Keeping his arms behind his back, he adjusts his stance, trying to calm himself. He sees you emerge from the top of the steps and watches as your eyes sweep over the entire hall, and eventually, finally, meet his very own.

Aemond can hardly breathe, the blood rushing to his head at the sight of you in that red dress, making him feel all woozy. The firewine surely does not help, either.

She looks like a goddess. You walk down the hall, keeping your eyes trained ahead, hand firmly on Jacaerys’ arm. But Aemond does not spare his nephew any more than a cursory glance, almost entranced by the way your gown enhances your silhouette. By the exposed planes of your skin.

He watches your chest heave against your bodice as you take deep breaths. He knows that you would be nervous, but to your credit, nobody will be able to tell.

That’s my girl. You reach the front of the hall, joining the rest of the family and their respective partners. Your lips part slightly as you get a better look at Aemond, and he wants to know badly what you think. But then your eyes visibly narrow at something, and you turn away, walking with Jace to the other end of the group.

Aemond registers that Alys had looped her arm around his again, and he curses her internally. He can’t help the glare that he throws in her direction, but she must not see the irritation in his eyes or simply ignores it.

Alys mouths, “Have you been drinking?” with a seductive smile that does not fit her query.

Keeping up appearances, as usual.

“Some,” Aemond snaps. “Don’t let it concern you.”

The hall falls into silence as Viserys conducts his opening remarks, followed by a brief speech from his daughter and named successor, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Soon enough, it’s time for the first dance. All of the main pairings make their way to the open floor in the middle of the hall, standing across from each other as they line up in an orderly fashion. It is the only traditional Valyrian dance of the night, for which participants were required to attend a series of rehearsals prior to the event. Aemond opted out of them this year, not that it mattered. He has long since mastered the dance, having attended every Dragonstone ball since his childhood.

He is tempted to look in your direction, but his instinct to follow tradition wins over.

Always keep your eyes trained on your partner, his mother had ingrained in him and his siblings.

That wouldn’t be a problem, if she were mine.

The dancers raise their right arms to the front, and the music starts. For Aemond, every step almost feels robotic, and his body moves on its own volition. He does not even need to think, nor does he appreciate the closeness the routine requires of the pairings.

Fuck it. At that, Aemond lets his eye wander over to you, as you twirl around with Jace a few feet away. You don’t even look at Aemond, and you shouldn’t, but it annoys him anyway.

He spins Alys around, and her back is pressed to his as they saunter from side to side.

Then you lock eyes. He notices the switch in your expression, which you quickly revert back to a fixed soft smile, but he sees it anyway.

You’re irate at me, my love. The pairings spin around again. And for good reason.

“You smell of firewine,” Alys mutters, when she draws closer.

“Well, I needed something to make this night bearable,” Aemonds responds coolly,

“Aemond,” Alys warns.

Aemond could have rolled his eyes at her reaction. Eye, he smirks at himself. “Don’t worry. It’s not you. I just dislike all this.” Surely that will get her to simmer down.

“Do you really ? Aren’t you a stickler for Valyrian tradition?”

“Hmm.” When in seven hells will this dance end?

-----------------------

When the first dance ends, you audibly breathe a sigh of relief.

It is no longer the apprehension about tripping on your feet, or doing something unbecoming of the tradition of the ball, or even forgetting a part of the dance routine that plagues your mind - all of your worries are set aside, overpowered by the rush of emotion from seeing Aemond once again.

The sight of him had been enough to drown out all the noise. Like the focal point of a kaleidoscope, your eyes sought him out when you entered the hall.

Like a moth to a flame. And he found you too.

You don’t know what else to think, apart from - He looks beautiful.

What was he even worried about? He still looks every bit like your Aemond, though you feel sorry at the now apparent loss of his eye. You know he would not desire your pity, that he would hate being on the receiving end of it from anyone. But you can’t help it.

I’m sorry this happened to you, you want to tell him. But would it even matter? Would it make a difference? Or does he already get enough consolation from the company of Alys Rivers?

Jace does not let go of your hand as you walk to the head table with the rest of the family, which is situated like a dais at the front of the hall, so that all the family members would have a full view of everything. Aemond is situated at the other end of the table with Alys, but since they are seated at the other end of the long table, as are you and Jace, they are directly in your line of sight.

The staff had distributed glasses of a deep violet wine which Jace explained is firewine, originally from Valyria. “Are you doing alright so far?” He places his hand atop yours on the table, and you hum positively in response. He does not let go, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You raise your head when Viserys addresses the hall, making the mistake of catching Aemond’s eye. You notice how tense he sits, both hands intertwined on the table, his eye trained on you. Or rather, on Jace’s hand adjoined with yours.

You shake your head slightly. He looks up at you, as if noticing the attention you are giving him. So you look away quickly, listening as Viserys makes his first toast to the hall.

“Now we drink,” Jace signals. You pick up the ornate glass and bring it to your lips, and see Aemond doing the same. He does not drop your gaze as he takes a drawn out sip, and finally lowers the glass. You catch the way his tongue flickers to taste the remnants of firewine on his lips, and you feel your cheeks flare up with warmth.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“We now invite all of you to partake in another bout of dancing, this one less stringent than the first, so there’s no need to worry. No dragon will come to smite you if you step on your partner’s toes, but my dear wife won’t hesitate to throw you out of the hall, I’m sure,” Viserys announces genially, earning some laughter from the attendees. “And shortly after, the feast will begin.”

The crowd sets into commingling. Some pairings remain together, some accept invitations from other guests. The orchestra begins to play a slower, gentler hymn. Something more intimate. Romantic.

“May I have this dance, stranger?” Jace grins at you, offering his hand.

“Well, who am I to refuse a dragon?” you quip in turn. You pass by Helaena and Luke already on the dancefloor, and Aemond and Alys…

“Hey,” Jace keeps you from finding out. He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, and takes your hand in the other. “Is he bothering you?”

“What?”

“Aemond,” Jace says. “I could not help but notice that my dear uncle has been practically drooling at you like some starving dog.”

“He has not,” your eyes widen at his insinuation. But he has, hasn’t he?

“Are you blind?” Jace laughs. “He’s bloody doing it right now.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find him, guiding Alys Rivers in a slow dance. And Jace is right. He may be holding her, but his focus is on you.

“You can tell that he must be so jealous right now,” Jace says. “It’s kind of funny.”

A giggle bubbles up your lips, and Jace joins you. You hold each other closer in an attempt to control your laughter. “Still,” you breathe out, finding the words. “He came here with Alys. Not me.”

Jace simply smirks at your concern. “Oh, doll. Judging by how he looks like he might commit nepoticide at any moment, I’d say you’re doing a fine job of making him pay for it.”

-----------------------

Aemond hears you laugh a few feet away, recognizing his favourite sound. It’s been too long since he last heard it. Too bad you’re sharing the moment with his Strong nephew, of all people.

The song slows to a gradual halt, but the dance is still under way. Aemond takes this as his cue to turn away from Alys, mumbling something about getting a drink.

“Wait until they’re served. You don’t just slink away searching for alcohol to drown in! This is so unlike you.” She seethes, his attitude finally getting to her.

Aemond knows this. He’s well aware that the servers will soon emerge from the corners of the hall with delicate glass flutes balanced on gold trays. He’s seen this ball play out all throughout his life.

But he is not looking for the same sweet, feeble firewine. He’d much prefer the seedier alcohol that Aegon brings around in his flask.

Alys was right. This is truly unlike him. But between the awareness of everyone scrutinizing his new appearance and seeing his nephew’s hand firmly on your waist, his only recourse is to take a book out of Aegon’s page.

And drink like a Braavosi seahorse, as they say.

You begin swaying once more, in the arms of Jace, as the music gradually rises back to a crescendo. New sets of pairings venture onto the dancefloor.

Thankfully, one of them steps in to relieve him.

“Well, if it isn’t Alys Rivers herself,” a man exclaims, then turns to Aemond. “Do you mind, sir?” He holds his hand out to Alys, standing tall like a reed, as if a stiff breeze would blow him away.

“Oh, hi.” Alys says, pleased at the attention. “Aemond, this is Harris, he’s an actor and we worked on…”

But Aemond has already stepped away, disinterested by her explanation. “By all means.”

It is clearly not the reaction Alys wanted from him, and she glares at his retreating figure. Aemond doesn’t notice, approaching his brother on the sidelines.

“Finished dancing with mommy?” Aegon sneers by way of greeting.

“Fuck off, Aegon.”

“Aw, come on.” Aegon slaps his brother on the back. “You know I'm joking. Besides, you’re doing well for your first event in a long time.”

“Well,” Aemond’s lips curl in thought. Is that how things are going? Well? I wouldn’t say so. “Hand me your flask.”

Aegon sniggers, reaching for his pocket. “Hurry while our dear mother’s not looking.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aemond takes a long drag of the liquid, the unforgiving taste biting in his mouth. It burns a little as it goes down his throat, winding up in his core as a pit of warmth.

“Well, well. Did you lose your inhibitions along with your eye, brother?” Aegon snatches the flask back, surprised but not disappointed by this turn of events.

Perhaps.

“Look at them. Smiling at each other like that.” Aemond spits out, venom lacing his tone.

“Wha -” Aegon’s head whips around, searching. Landing on you. “Oh. I see.” His amusement flares even greater. “Someone’s bloody jealous.”

“Hmm.” Why bother denying it?

“Didn’t think you had it in you to be cuckolded by a bastard.” Aegon says, dealing an effective blow.

“Give me that,” Aemond swipes the flask once more, taking a careless swig. Intrigued whispers reach him, somewhere from behind. Or to his side, it doesn’t matter. They can say whatever they want.

He hands the flask back to his snickering brother, then goes on to claim what’s his.

-----------------------

“Nephew.”

You hear his voice, plain as day. One minute he was some distance away, then he materialised right beside you.

“Mind if I step in?” Aemond asks Jace smoothly. Politely. But his eyes betray a hint of malice. You can’t help but stare at him blankly as he offers his hand to you.

Jace doesn’t respond right away, looking to you for approval. Are you fine with this? He seems to ask with furrowed brows.

“It’s okay,” you find your voice, albeit timid and unsure.

“I won’t go too far,” Jace whispers. He lets you go, letting Aemond take over in his stead. You stand in front of each other, but you don’t dare move closer. You feel arrested in his gaze, and he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Until he takes a sure step. Then he is everywhere. His familiar scent envelops you once more. Dizzying, like a long swig of firewine. You even catch a hint of it from him. His lips curl in amusement as he sees you studying him. You take notice of his eyepatch, of the scar lingering beneath.

Aemond. Enticing as ever. Ethereal and princely in his leather garb.

Why did he ever have to hide from me?

He whispers your name, and puts both hands on the small of your back, pulling you right against him. More intimate than the stance you had with Jace.

Aemond always had a pair on him.

He does seem to be unfazed, though he surely regards how flustered you’re becoming. “Hands up on my shoulders, love.” He says, and you comply.

Then he gracefully guides you through the slow dance. How can he act like everything is normal between us? Does he expect me to just -

“You look beautiful.” Aemond says, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen at his sentiment, and your cheeks warm. “Easily the most beautiful woman in this room.”

It’s all too much, and you have to look away. “Nice of you to say that, Aemond.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

You continue with the dance, too aware of your proximity. If you lean in, you’re almost certain he’ll feel your rushing heartbeat. Maybe he already does, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“Are you… are you better now?” You ask, tentatively.

Aemond’s expression hardens, and you struggle to decipher what he could possibly be thinking.

“I wish this never happened to you,” you add, and your hand strays on its own, hovering over the side of his face. But you catch yourself, and let your hand fall just as quick.

“I know,” he says, sincerely. “I do wish I never had to be away from you.”

“But you never had to,” you respond immediately. “This wouldn’t have changed how I see you.”

“It might have,” Aemond looks away this time. “You didn’t see how I was. How I still am.”

“I don’t - ”

Aemond’s head whips back to you, leaning closer. “There’s a reason why my mother made sure I wore these bloody gloves. So we don’t give people a chance to talk about their fucking Prince of the City’s latest exploits.”

You swallow, growing concerned. “I heard about those… fights. I wasn’t sure if they were true. Nobody ever said anything.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, they are. I’m not going to lie, darling. Right now, I’m not averse to slamming Jacaerys right to the ground.”

“Aemond,” you freeze, no longer swaying to the music. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Maybe he has changed. But did I ever truly know him? Did he really let me in?

He notices your expression fall, agonizes at the sight of you moving away from him, dropping your arm to your sides. So he pulls you in once more, holding you right against him. His leather coat is smooth against the featherlike fabric of your gown, cool against your growing warmth.

“Wait,” Aemond pleads. “Stay with me.” His hands slide upward, cradling your face. You have no choice but to look at him. Briefly, you wonder how he would appear without the eyepatch. Not that it matters. Not that he will reveal himself to you.

The song comes to a gradual halt in the background. The crowd begins to shuffle back to their tables. Some of them cast wary glances in your direction. Who is that girl with their beloved Aemond, they must wonder, and you begin to grow self-conscious.

“I want to kiss you right now, darling.” Aemond sighs, fanning your face with an exhale. Proving your assumption that he might be inebriated. Not just with wine, but something stronger.

I wish you would. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” His face scrunches in frustration, and it’s actually adorable.

“Not here. People are staring.” You clear your throat, trying to get a hold of yourself. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him.

“Let them stare.”

His gaze drifts down to your lips. His thumb flutters across, parting them just a little. Just as he had, that one night. Has it been that long?

Like a shock to your senses, you see a lithe figure in a silver slip gown walking in your direction. A vision with her cascading dark hair.

You jump back from Aemond, and he looks almost wounded.

“Enjoy your night, Aemond.” You turn away from him. “Alys.” You muster up a greeting, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a wry smile.

You walk through the crowd, your mind still on Aemond, unaware that he continues to watch you with longing, tuning out the dark-haired vixen holding on to his arm.

“You look flushed,” Aegon greets, standing with Helaena by the dais.

“I suppose it’s your fault Aemond’s drunk,” you respond, raising your eyebrow.

“He’s drunk?” Aegon exclaims, shrugging dramatically. “I swear I had no part in this.”

Helaena shakes her head, watching the exchange. “It’s a relief you didn’t decide to become an actor.”

“Hey,” Aegon grumbles, but he is clearly unaffected. “Aemond wanted to get drunk. I never could make him do anything no matter how hard I try.”

Smirking at you, he presses on. “If anything, sweet, I should be blaming you.”

-----------------------

You are seated back at the high table when Jace finally returns. But he is not alone, grinning conspiratorially with another raven-haired fellow, strapping and dignified in appearance.

You spot the wolf sigil pinned to his black tunic, and you automatically make an assumption.

This must be a Stark.

“I would like to introduce you to an old buddy of mine,” Jace smiles, confirming your thoughts. “This is Cregan Stark.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Cregan reaches you, drawing close. He smoothly takes your hand, and presses a kiss to the back as a gesture of courtesy. “A shame we didn’t meet sooner. I suppose I haven’t left Winterfell in far too long. Haven’t seen this one in a long time too.” He tilts his head in Jace’s direction, smiling. You can’t help but notice the sharpness of his canines, making him appear kind of wolflike, in line with his family symbol. “My sister Sara misses him way too much for my liking.”

At the mention of Sara, Jace’s cheeks visibly redden, and you make a mental note of teasing him about it later.

“What’s not to miss about Jace, really?” you say, taking a liking to the Stark boy’s demeanour. Sure, he holds himself with a steely confidence that befits someone of his status - much like Aemond - but he doesn’t come across as intimidating.

And, more importantly, he’s good friends with Jace, so he must be trustworthy.

“Right, you two, the feast is starting,” Jace playfully pulls Cregan away from you, who winks in your direction before hunkering off to his own table.

Jace sits down next to you, a smile still resting on his lips. When he catches you looking, you take the opportunity and say, “So, Sara Stark, huh?”

He smirks, easily countering with, “So, my uncle, huh?”

Your eyebrows raise, and you pick up the flute of wine set before you.

“Touché.”

-----------------------

Another one. Aemond has half a mind to break something when he spots the fucking Stark boy making advancements on you. Who does he think he is anyway? Does he not know that you are already spoken for?

True to form, his nephew Jacaerys only seems to be encouraging the whole thing. Bringing his two friends together.

Bastard is as bastard does.

Thankfully, there is a sudden trill sound, some chimes swinging, it doesn’t matter. The feast is being signalled to commence.

Everyone makes their way back to their tables, including bloody Cregan Stark.

Aemond is simply determined to go through the motions, and to make it to the remaining two hours of this ball. Two excruciating hours. Then he plans on taking you off somewhere, just you and him, having already considered the different outcomes in his head.

To Blackwater Residences, perhaps? But that would be a bit far away. You would be inclined to go with him, only if there would be an option to return to the ball should the need arise.

So he settles on simply pulling you away from the crowd, somewhere within the Valyrian Hall. He knows the ins and outs of the establishment quite well. So there would be no trouble getting around. To the gardens, to the balcony on the upper floor, to the private parlour?

Anywhere, anything.

“... so of course, I said yes! It’s a really good opportunity for me to finally venture into the film industry, you know. It’s something I've always wanted.” Alys prattles on, and Aemond tunes in, now and then, nodding or shaking his head as warranted. Keep her happy, and the night should flow by easily. If he plays his cards right, he should be with you soon enough.

Viserys commands the attention of the crowd, and hush falls over the feast.

He begins by thanking everyone in attendance, then goes on to make a toast for the entire city, for prosperity. And at the end, he expresses a tribute for perpetual unity among his family, the accident glazed over like a bad headline.

Like it never happened. And that is how people will see it, if that is the will of Viserys.

As per tradition, the rest of the family may take the opportunity to share a toast, should they wish.

Rhaenyra is next, and she expresses gratitude for the health of their sons.

Otto Hightower announces the predicted success of the next business venture between the Targaryen and Hightower empires, shepherded by his tireless consulting and liaising, of course.

Daeron makes a cheerful toast to his many friends, scattered across the hall in attendance.

And then, Lucerys stands, leaning against his good leg, one hand on the table for balance. He raises his hand high, and his usual impish smirk is in place. He looks around the hall, making sure to have everyone’s eyes on him.

“It's been quite the year, as we all know. I, for one, am simply grateful to still be standing here among you.”

Viserys looks to Rhaenrya, as if to question whether Luke will stray too far. The boy’s mother merely smiles stiffly, trusting her son to be prudent in his speech.

Luke does not miss a beat, continuing, “I would like us all to toast to my family, especially to my dear uncle, Aemond. Hopefully he has learned his lesson about challenging me to a race.” He adds the last thing lightly, and the crowd titters as a result.

“Alright, Luke, that’s enough.” Rhaenyra makes a hushed warning.

Luke mouths, wait, and finishes up the rest of his speech. “I would like to make a toast as well, to our dear friends and companions here at our table. To Daeron’s girlfriend, Viola. To Rhaena and her Corwyn. And to my good friend, y/n.”

Aemond’s hand clenches into a fist on the table at his nephew mentioning your name. He sees you regard Luke with surprise, not expecting this at all.

Luke finishes his toast, and in a deliberate move, he says, “Seeing as how my brother is quite taken with you, I won’t be surprised if you will be joining our family soon.”

Aemond suddenly rises from his seat, his weighty chair causing a grating noise to echo across the hall.

Luke sits back down with a triumphant sneer, having accomplished his desired result.

Aemond takes a deep breath, not saying anything for a few seconds. His features are stony and his figure taut, like a serpent ready to strike.

“Aemond,” Alicent says, worried.

Then Aemond raises his glass, a determined look on his face, his one beady eye scanning the hall. Not willing to be defeated.

“A tribute,” he begins, “to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

He catches sight of you, sitting too far away, worriedly looking between himself and Jacaerys, who glares at him appalled. You shake your head at him.

This is all for you, my darling.

“...Strong.” Aemond calls to everyone. “Let us raise our cups, to these three Strong boys.”

The tension takes its toll, and despite Viserys’ best efforts, chaos ensues.

a/n

not Aemond getting wasted just to cope with the high of properly being with the reader after the longest time...

also - someone send Ewan back to Derby please. I'm serious.

Sound off in the comments! I would love to know what you guys think 🖤

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon

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targaryen-dynasty · 7 months

Note

Hello!!! Not sure if I’m doing this right, so please direct me if needed ❤️

I would absolutely love modern Aemond with GIF #9 🥵

Kinks: consensual-non-consent, and overstimulation 😋

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 6 -> GIF.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; NON/DUB CON, CONSENSUAL NON-CON, p in v, creampie, chase play, overstimulation, somewhat dark Aemond, female Reader

WORDS: 2 K (I don't know what came over me)

NOTES: Gods, idk why but this was a challenge! Thank you so much hehe! 🫂 Hope you like it!

With the whole Targtower side of the family in Dragonstone to celebrate the birth of Rhaenyra‘s sixth child and first daughter, Visenya, the townhouse was eerily quiet. A few small table lamps and candles granted just some sense of light, yet it was barely bright enough for your eyes to adjust to it.

Under the premise of having to do something for college – you knew it couldn’t stray any further from the truth – Aemond had been allowed to stay behind, occupying the large house all by himself.

And you two had plenty of ideas to use the time.

Your heartbeat had been pounding in your ears, thrumming against the confines of your ribcage, and you had been more than certain he could hear it from your hiding spot under his older brother’s bed.

His footsteps had been lithe, almost quiet, safe for the occasional squeaking of wood beneath his feet, stalking towards you like a hunter trying to herd its prey. The giggles that slipped past your lips had left them out of sheer excitement or nervousness, you couldn’t quite tell, but once you had spotted the silhouette of his feet standing in the threshold, you became dead silent.

“Where are you, mh?” his deep voice had rasped out suddenly, somehow still catching you by surprise despite knowing he was there. Every breath had caught in your throat, and it had been incredibly difficult for you to keep them shallow enough for him not to notice.

Aemond had prowled around the bed, slowly, carefully, and all you could do was rely on your hearing, since Aegon’s room had been too dark to see anything.

You had heard him stopping, taking in a deep breath. “Maybe I’ll have to start without you then.” His words had tempted you to leave your hiding place, yet you had remembered what you and him had discussed beforehand.

It had seemed as if his footsteps disappeared, getting lighter, and even his presence hadn’t felt so suffocating anymore.

But boy had you been wrong.

A tight grip had seized your ankles, and without a warning, you had been dragged from under the bed, the squeal you released more tinged with fear than amusement. “Got you,” he had rasped, and the smug smirk on his lips perhaps had not been visible, but perfectly audible.

While you had been prepared for him to drag you back to his room, you were utterly confused when he had thrown you on the king size bed you not-so-long-before were hiding under.

“Aem–” you tried to reason, but were quickly silenced when his hands yanked down your leggings in one, swift tug. Out of instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt, but Aemond did not seem to mind, his large hands fisting your tank top before they tore the flimsy fabric apart.

In a matter of seconds, Aemond had flipped you onto your belly and proceeded to straddle your thighs, pressing his full weight down on top of you to pin you to the mattress. It made your body unable to move, tears brimming in your waterline already.

“Shush now, bunny,” he murmured, not so gently massaging your shoulders. Something cold touched your skin where his hands were, but you couldn’t make out what it was. “Found you, and now I’m claiming my prize.”

There was not much left of the usual smoothness in his voice, a rougher edge now more than prominent despite him murmuring and drawling the words. The feigned softness sent a shiver down your spine that settled at the apex between your legs.

“I was so close to doing this without you, to just fuck my hand to the thoughts of your sweet cunt, but your cute, little giggles, fuck,” his words were interrupted by a heavy groan. “I just have to have you, and you will let me, right?”

His hands on your shoulders were not at all as comfortable as the times he had massaged you on one of your movie nights – but comfortable and soft wasn’t what you wanted anyways. Not tonight.

You tried to squirm away from his grasp, which earned you a disappointed scoff from him.

And that was when the cold thing in his hands came to use.

“Really want me to tie you up, sweet thing, mh? So desperate?”

His weight on top of you shifted forwards, and soon enough both your wrists were tied to the edges of the headboard, the cold satin tie not doing much to cool your hot and flushed skin.

With your heartbeat still pounding in your ears, you barely heard him opening the zipper of his jeans, pushing them down enough to free his rock hard cock. As he dragged the tip through your drenched folds, you bit your lip while Aemond released a relieved groan.

“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” he asked, serving a slap to your ass that had you squirming again. “Beg for me to make you feel good, bunny.”

“P-Please,” you sobbed, burying your face in the pillow beneath you.

He seemed desperate, considering that was all the begging it took to get him going.

He thrusted his cock into the crevice of your ass once, before one hand groped your hip roughly enough to raise it and angle it to his liking. As he forced himself into your tight core, your hands balled into fists, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stifle a moan. But to no avail.

With your walls practically choking his throbbing cock, you and Aemond moaned in unison, whereas yours turned into a whine as he immediately set up a pace that knocked the air straight out of your lungs.

It perhaps was the adrenaline and the animalistic manner in which he claimed you, but not long after that, you toppled over your edge. The force of your orgasm left you in a dazed state that robbed you of any coherent thoughts, your body becoming limp. At first, the overstimulation was not too bad – until you noticed that Aemond’s release didn’t follow immediately after yours.

“Feels good, huh?” he groaned, making his intentions clear. The limpness disappeared, tension taking over your body. You tugged on the ties to escape the aching between your legs in vain.

“N-No,” you whined, pathetic tears running down your flushed cheeks while the rest of your body betrayed you. Your walls fluttered and trembled around him, and the overstimulation subsided enough for pleasure to take over again. The urge to pee became prominent in your mind, and you knew that, even if you could trust the urge, he’d gladly let you pee the bed if you wouldn’t resort to saying the safe word.

Each time his throbbing length slid into your cunt, embraced by your tight walls, you grew more and more addicted to the building pressure inside of your body.

“Give me another,” he groaned, “I want it.” For a split second, you weren't sure if it was Aemond or Aegon pounding into you from behind, since he certainly sounded like his older brother – a spoiled man-child that always got what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

You whimpered and whined, hands clawing the cold satin to keep yourself grounded. “N-No,” you panted, “t-too much… too full.”

And while you firmly believed that would be enough to have him stop, even though you didn’t really want him to, Aemond merely snaked a hand under your body to toy with your clit, matching the merciless snaps of his hips.

It was a mix of heat, pain and pleasure surging through your veins like wildfire, turning your vision blurry, and forcing your body to the point it didn’t cooperate anymore. His touch was overwhelming, causing you to gasp into the pillow.

Your back arched, and your blurry vision turned hot-white from how intense that second orgasm was. Even though you were in a haze, torn between pleasure and pain, you noticed the falter in his thrusts and the strained groan he released as he tried to fuck you through your second orgasm. It felt good to know it was just as torturous for him as it was for you.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Aemond to recover and regain his composure, whereas you were rendered a drooling mess. He slammed his hips into yours to bury himself to the hilt, the sounds of skin slapping skin even louder than your whines and his grunts.

Your mouth was agape, the pillow damp with your saliva and tears. Your body was at the point where even the tension in your arms had gone out, resting limply between the struts of the headboard, dragging forward and back with each movement of him.

You thought your body had enough time to get used to his pace and size, but each thrust brought you closer to the certainty that your body might split apart.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Aemond’s hips stilled, pubic bone pressed against your ass. With his breath heavy and erratic, it was clear that he had reached his climax, throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. “Fuck,” he cursed, voice tinged with a hint of relief. While you were expecting this to be the safe call for it all to end, he caught you by surprise when he easily picked up his previous pace again.

The way his grunts and groans sounded more strained than normal made clear that he was fighting the same battle against the overstimulation than you did, but it seemed he just wasn’t satisfied with you coming only twice for him.

“One more for me, bunny,” he rasped. “That’s all I need.”

His seed oozed out of your assaulted hole with his ministrations at this point, coating his cock and dripping down his balls, acting as added lubrication. The sounds were lewd, squelching and slapping filling the room each time he hit the spot inside of you that made stars dance along your vision.

With the heat building inside of you for a third time – you weren’t even sure if it had left after the second orgasm – the awful, aching pleasure crawling to the surface, you wanted to scream, but nothing more than another whimper left your lips.

Aemond fucked you through your third high, the erratic snaps of his hips elongating the pleasure. His hand had long left your clit, only to be replaced by his heavy balls, and each time they slapped against your sensitive clit, your body jerked from the force of the aftershocks and overstimulation.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his thrusts becoming slower and softer until they eventually seized. “So fucking hot.” Both hands groped your ass, squeezing and teasing your flesh while he granted you a few moments to come down, to catch your breath.

If you had to stand up just now, you were certain you’d fall face first, your legs completely limp and not able to cooperate.

Aemond leaned forwards to release your wrists. His cock was still nestled snugly inside of your twitching walls, a white rim surrounding the base, and the aftershocks and overstimulation took a lot longer to subside. His hands wrapped around both your wrists to gently massage and rub the skin, soothing the discomfort the ties probably had brought you.

Your face was buried in the pillows, and you found it hard to focus on anything he said. “You did so, so well for me,” he praised, slowly pulling out. With you still lying on your stomach and the townhouse still being poorly lit, you didn’t see him flinching at the friction he caused himself.

Aemond returned seconds later with a cloth to clean you up, before he scooped you up in his arms. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent. “I’ll get a bath ready for you,” he said, slowly walking towards the bath. “You get to soak while I clean up your mess. And after that, I’ll join you, how does that sound?”

You lazily blinked up at him and nodded, a tired smile on your lips.

While you should be touched by his gentle side, by how well he was providing you with aftercare, all you could focus on was the next time his family would be out of town.

329 notes · View notes

misguidedasgardian · 9 months

Text

Storm's End

HOTD MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, mention's of children maiming, mentions of virginity loss and blood. READER MIGHT BE DEAD, OR MAYBE DEPENDS, COMPLETELY UP TO YOU, dragon's death though :(

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.5 k

Notes: I know this has been done before, but… this is my way to look at it. You are the daughter of Rhaenyra, she sends you to Storm’s End instead of Luke, and this is what ensues

You know you should have turned back the moment your dragon took flight away from Dragonstone.

There was something in the air

Grandmother Rhaenys, and your dear brothers flying by your side soothed you, made you remember you were not alone, but they soon parted way with you, Jace went North, as did Lucerys, Rhaenys went west, and you continued south

Towards Storm’s End

Those stormy clouds in the horizon must have been your first dark omen, but you didn’t pay attention to them, or to anything else really

Your mind was set

You had begged your mother to let you helped her, so she send you to the closest place, a short fly, a message delivered, and then you could return.

But what were you going to say?

you wanted to believe your mother’s words, that Lord Borros was going to be honored to receive you there, you were a young princess, no real threat, only a messenger, he was going to respect you, you were going to say your piece, and then you were going to take his answer back to your mother, as easy as that.

You held tightly onto your dragon’s reins as you flew amidst a cloud with rain within, getting you drenched within second

Karnax, under you, roared softly, feeling your uneasiness, trying to make you feel safer, and you did.

It was not relief what you felt when you saw the tall tower of Storm’s End in the horizon, it actually felt like your stomach had turned on itself, but that is the second sign you decided to ignore

Karnax was small, bigger than Arrax and a bit than Vermax, but he was still small enough to land in the outer courtyard, and you did

Your saddle was wet, and you slid right off of it, landing heavily with your boots in the ground.

You jumped when the light of a thunder brightened the sky for just a second, and then moments later the thunderous sound made the floor shake.

Karnax whined when you touched him, trying to soothe him, he was nervous, and soon you learnt why

Another, even louder, more monstrous sound made you flinch, and when you looked over the huge defensive walls of the castle, there she was. Vhagar raised her head, dwarfing the constructions covering her, growling as a warning.

She was indeed the largest and most dangerous dragon in the world

And she was here

That means that Aemond was also

Probably doing the same thing as you, trying to rally Lord Borros to his cause, to his side

To the Usurpers

The prospect of seeing your uncle made you tremble in fear, you had always been afraid of him, ever since he lost his eye, even more so after the last time you saw him

You have eavesdropped a conversation in which he had asked for your hand in marriage and Rhaenyra had crudely rejected him, he did not reacted well

It did not help that it was the same day of the Driftmark trials

He had frighten you so much your mother send you back the same night, only a few weeks away

“Sobes Karnax, Lykyri”, you whispered soothingly, patting her snout, he whined, worried, but it was too late now, you couldn’t back down, you wondered if you were trying to calm him, or expected that he would sooth you back.

So ignoring your body, mind, heart, soul, dragons, the weather and everything in existence around you, you decided to walk towards the guards guarding the entrance to the Castle

“I have a message for Lord Borros from Queen Rhaenyra”, you said quickly, before you lose your momentum, they barely nodded and started walking, you followed suit, trying to fix your drenched clothes

The Storm had catched up with you.

You could still hear it raging behind you as you entered the main hall of the castle of the Baratheons, you had never been here before, and it amazed you the immensity of it, it was rounded and at least three stories tall, ending in a huge vault over your heads, front here you could see multiple passages leading to the rest of the construction, but you could look no more

“The Princess (Y/N) Velaryon”, presented the guard, “Daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen”

Queen

You thought bitterly, as you found Lord Borros seated on his throne.

But your gaze was immediately taken away

Aemond

He stood at the side of the throne, standing straight by one of Borros’ daughters, as he heard your name he immediately turned

He looked dangerous

Dresses head to toe in black leather, his hair combed perfectly, the eyepatch cutting his face in half

You wondered if he could notice you trembling from that far

You guessed he could since he looked terribly amused at your presence, his naturally curved lips smirked.

But you didn't came here for him, you turned your gaze towards to the Lord of the Stormlands

“Lord Borros, I brought you a message from my mother, the Queen”, you didn’t realize you had a stone inside your throat until now, almost choking in our own words, you were thankful for the acoustic of the place or else nobody could have heard you

“Yet early this day I received an envoy from the king”, he said then, “so which is it? King or Queen? the House of the dragon doesn’t seem to know who rules it”, he was already crossed with someone or something and you cursed yourself for being so weak, sounded so pathetically

And then he laughed at his own joke and you shook, perhaps he was laughing at you

You looked fleetingly at Aemond

Perhaps to make sure he stood where he was

He frightened you

You begged the gods to make him stay there, as he stood, unmovable like the statues of Dragonstone

“What’s your mother’s message?”, the Lord of Storm’s End did not take well to your distraction, so you tried your best to reach with your arm and this one not to shake, to prove to everyone there, to Lord Borro’s daughters, him, your uncle, and the court, how scared you were

A soldier took your message hastily and gave it to the Lord

He sighed, frustrated, and call in the maester

In a silly second you thought fleetingly of your brother’s giggles when you tell them the rumors were true and indeed Lord Borros didn’t know how to read, you remembered fleetingly that you suggested it was because he had hit himself many times on the head while jousting

But you shook those thoughts away, when you felt the small hairs in the back of your hair stand up, as Aemond’s deep gaze was on you

For a second, only the wind making the stones whistle as sing could be heard, and then the ruffling of paper the maester made while reading the letter.

Your uncle’s gaze didn’t leave you for a second, so you tried to look away from him, only stealing glances to make sure he hadn't move

That he was still several feet away from you, with people in between you

You didn't want him near you

He frightened you

He hated you

You knew this

“Remind me of my father’s oaths?”, asked Borros, enraged, you turned to look at him, scared, “King Aegon at least came with an offer, my banners and swords for a marriage pact”

Poor girl, you thought briefly

“If I do what your mother bids, who of my household will you marry, girl? uh?”

“My lord…”, you could turn this around, you could, you needed to try, to explain, to plead to his honor, “I’m not free to marry, I’m already betrothed to Cregan Stark”, you said, and you were not completely lying, your big brother was flying North now with the proposal in his hand

Aemond hummed mockingly at your words, so your gaze landed on him again.

He still was amused, even more so now, you shook in your place, trembling like a leaf in the autumn winds

“So you come with empty hands”, said Borros, more angry than before, “go home pup, and tell your mother the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog she can whistle up in need to set against her enemies”, he said rapidly

You had failed

You tried to swallow your tears as the stone in your throat but you just couldn’t do it

“I shall take your answer to the Queen, My Lord”, you whimpered, and when you looked at the pity in the daughters’ faces you realized your voice did sounded broken and defeated

Weak

You turned to leave, sad because you failed, but relieved that this had come to an end

“Wait��, you trembled in your place, stopping immediately at your uncle’s call.

You turned slowly, fearfully, to look back at him

“My lady Strong”

You whimpered

“Uncle?’, you were acknowledging him, but it sounded more like a question

Weak

“Did you really think you could just fly upon the realms, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

You are the thieves

But the words never reached your lips, instead you wanted to hide your head between your shoulders, almost feeling ashamed

That much power Aemond had over you, the power to make you feel like you were in the wrong, and he was in the right

Ever since that night

When your little brother took his eye

The girl by his side took a step back, like giving him space, and that made you take a step back, less and less things could protect you from your uncle, your hand instinctively went to the pommel of the short sword your stepfather Daemon had begged you to carry, you didn’t know how to use it, but nonetheless… it couldn’t hurt

“I will not fight with you uncle, I came as a messenger”, you said, your voice, again, broken, weak, with fear and sadness

You had failed

“A fight would be little challenge”, he said dismissively

“I’m aware”, you admitted, if it came to blows, you stood no chance against his incredible skill with the sword, even if you meant a fight with words filled with poison

“No…”, his hand went to his eyepatch, and form one single movement he took it out of his face, revealing a sapphire where his eyeball should be

You whimpered, taking a step back

It had taken you by surprise, not that you found him monstrous, or anything, it was just… incredible

“...You brother is indebted to me”

You really wished, in the bottom of your heart, that he would have let this go, if not for your brother, for himself, but he didn’t he hasn't, and that made him so incredible dark, resentful, twisted and mean

And that is what you were most afraid of

“It was an accident…”

“I want you to pay instead”, you whined, taking a step back

“I have nothing…”

“A small payment in blood will suffice…”, you looked at Lord Borros, alarmed, he clearly was not meant for THAT, did he? Did he plan on slaying you there where you stood?, in front of all this people?

“...I will not breed you”, a single tear escaped your eye at his crude words, “I plan on gifting our bloodied sheets to your mother”, you looked back at the Lord of Storm’s End and he looked back at you, concerned

This was the man supposed to wed one of his daughters

“No!”, you cried, in defense of yourself

“So you are a craven as well as a traitor, as your brothers…”

“Not here!”, Borros finally intervened, but still you could not breathe, you were terrified

You never wanted to believe the gazes your uncle gave you were ones of desire, and dark intentions of bedding you, you never thought…

“GIVE YOURSELF TO ME, OR I WILL TAKE YOU BASTARD!”, you shrieked as he advanced on you with certain and long steps, you stumbled backwards trying to prevent him getting near you

“NOT IN MY HALL!”, the thunderous voice of Borros made him stop in his tracks, “the girl came as an envoy, I will not have bloodshed of any kind beneath my roof”

Lord Borros’ words came of little comfort, not when your uncle had taken a dagger of his belt and was threatening you with it, the storm outside, the lightning made his sapphire gleam meanly

“Take the princess back to her dragon, now!”, commanded Lord Borros and you, giving a titanic effort, managed to walk (and not sprint at high speed) out of the hall

Aemond watched you go and smirked, making the dagger dance in his hand

You were his to take

He looked back at the girl he had begun to court to notice she was far away from him now, clearly scared of him

“I will be back shortly to resume negotiations”, he said meanly

“Don’t bother”, said Floris, standing now next to a guard, she would not like to be courted by him now, “I’m not interested in a man that is pure bark and no bite”

When you stepped outside, the storm was raging, you were drenched in second, wet from head to toes, but you couldn’t paid no mind to such things now

Karnax felt your fear, how frightening you were and he advanced towards you whining and growling desperate

“Lykiri Karnax” [calm], “gūrogon īlva hen kesīr” [take us out of here]

Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong, you let your tears fall freely now that nobody could notice nor see you, another Lightning broke the skies from afar and when you turned…

Vhagar was gone

There was no way he could have left before you, it couldn’t, it wasn’t possible

He was in negotiations with the Baratheons, you had to go, so he wouldn’t catch you.

You thought he was going to let you be, because it had been your brother who took his eye, not you

Oh how wrong you were

“Why?”, you cried, trying to make sense of it all as you climbed onto your dragon’s saddle, “Sobes, Karnax”, you called, he growled but obeyed you, he also wanted to get out of here.

You needed to get back to your mother, to Dragonstone, to your brothers and stepfather, they needed you, but you somehow knew that wasn’t going to be possible, a crippling fear took a hold in your body, you felt like you could barely move, your body being so tense.

The rain hit your face with strength, the highers you flied, you only secured your staps tightly and held into your reins hardly

Karnax flapped his wings with difficulty, but he succeeded in keep flying, you wanted to relax, you were flying away from Storm’s End, the Baratheons, your uncle, everyone, but something told you it wasn’t going to be that easy

You wanted Karnax to fly faster, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach

You whimpered in fear

something was wrong, terribly wrong

You felt a low growl coming from above and you cried, lowering your head, not wanting to face it, face him, and what he was going to do to you once he had you within his grasp

He was coming for you

And the moment you took to the skies, you raised the bet, he was not simply going to take you now, he couldn't not flying like this...

He rode the largest dragon in the world and you one of the smallest

You grabbed into your reigns and hoped Karnax would fly faster, but you couldn’t ask more of him of what you were already asking

You gained the courage to look up and you got a glimpse of a large looming shadow over you

Why?, you whimpered, crying harder, and Karnax growled

Why you?, you loved him once, you were friends, you played, and read together as kids, you had promised you could share little Karnax, and he had agreed.

But he got his own dragon, the largest in the world, and from that moment he pushed you aside and called you a bastard despite your Targaryen features and the fact that he had never called you that

He almost killed your brothers and then Luke took his eye.

After what transcurred in Driftmark with the Queen and your mom Aemond had come to your room in the hour of the bat, you woke up with a knife in your cheek and him over you, his hand in your throat

You never knew why he had come to your chambers and not luke’s or jace’s

He always knew you were the weakest one

You were a woman, he was a man

You looked ahead and shrieked once again when you saw Vhagar coming at you amongst the dark stormy clouds, at full speed

“NO!”, she changed her trajectory, going up in the last second, her feet and claws passing right by you, you could even feel them passing right by your head

Please

You were going to die

You could hear Aemond’s laugh, ricocheting amongst the clouds

He was amused by you

He hated you

And now he was going to kill you.

Karnax growled, scared too out of his mind, you could feel him, deep in your gut, the pure and sheer instinct to fight or fly kicking in, and both of you opting for the latter

just when you thought you had lost him, you heard the flap of huge wings behind you, you turned to look, and Vhagar huge open jaws appeared trough the storm, ready to swallow you whole.

But Karnax was fast, and Vhagar liked to play with her food

“I see you!”, you heard from behind, and the sound that Vhagar’s jaws made when they close grabbing into thin air made your skin prickle, “Libōnos”, [bastard]

Your body was tense as a bow, you could barely feel your legs that were tightened around your saddle, the water, despite your leather cape, has got under the clothes, and froze you all over, that you felt like you were made of ice, you could barely move, your fingers were not going to survive this even if you did

Vhagar was still behind you as you commanded your dragon to fly downwards, to gain speed

You made him turn and twist in the air, but to no avail, the monstrous Vhagar had her eyes set on her prey and she was not going to let go, you use your whole body and strength to pull her to make her change her trajectory from one moment to another, she might be bigger, but you were faster

Deep down you knew it was all going to be for nothing

He was coming for you

He hated you

And you could hear his sick laugh as he was laughing in your ear

You soon could make out the sea under you and as you looked to your left there was a cliff splitted in two, a risk in the middle, you had a change, you might be able to flight in between, but Vhagar wouldn’t

Your dragon read your mind and went there, seeking refuge

It has worked, you looked back to see VHagar fighting to make her heavy body fly upwards, your uncle’s grunts cut trough the air reaching you, it was insane

He was insane

He had a grudge for 8 years, boiling and simmering in rage, anger, and sadness, and you were the one that was going to get the worst of it

You felt relieved even, that it was you and not sweet Lucerys

Better you than him

“JĒMELÃ GÊLŸNI ENKÂ!”, he screamed [you owe me a debt], “BYKA!”, little one

Karnax flied diligently through the cliffs and rocks, you looked up and he was still there, chasing you, looming over you

“I lied!”, you heard then, “I will give you my bastard”, a pain spread through your chest, all your sorrow, pain, fear, exploding, taking a hold on your body, preventing you from breathing properly, even with the skies falling upon your head, with your life in your uncle’s hands.

You screamed when Karnax again flew in open skies as the protection of the cliff was taken away. It was a scream of agony, frustration, and fear

Oh so much fear

But the gods, or whomever, granted you a small mercy, the clouds were thick and the sea was a few feet under you, they concealed you from your predator chasing you.

You took a shaky, long breath, despite the lump in your throat present since you left Dragonstone

You needed to get yourself together

Keep flying North, soon the skies will clear, you couldn’t let fear control you….

Fear

The last thing you heard was Vhagar growling, and Karnax high screeched when the biggest dragon in the world sank her teeth in him, catching his legs and tail, completely destroying him.

“AH!”, you barely got a scream yourself, she didn’t catch you, but so did half your dragon, now dead.

“VHAGAR! NO! NO VHAGAR!”, is the last thing you heard

The next?

The white noise of water, all around you, the cold grasping you, hugging you tightly, not letting you move as the water moved around you taking you prisoner

For better or worse, Vhagar’s had completely destroyed the saddle, releasing you, and now you were there, by a gift or a curse from the gods, amongst the dark tides of Shipwreck bay, sinking slowly, finally you didn’t feel more fear, only the instinct to survive.

You were a true Velaryon at last.

#misguidedhouse #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #misguidedhotd #house of the dragon #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #targaryen!reader #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond

1K notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 11 months

Text

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 3 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: The gang comes to Luke's aid when he needs to find a new boat. You and Aemond continue to be at each other's throats.

word count: 4.9k

warnings below the cut!

warnings: sensual themes, language, drinking, smoking the devil's lettuce (general substance use warning)

note: thank you for all the love so far! I appreciate it so very much!

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

The clouds cleared from the stormy previous night, leaving the sky free of clouds and the sun reflecting over the choppy surf of Blackwater Bay. You’d found sleep easily, soothed by the splashing rain against the windows of High Tide.

You’d fallen asleep in Baela’s room after binge-watching Criminal Minds together (something you first bonded over when you became roommates at university together). You don’t open your eyes yet, even though you can feel the warmth of sunlight on your face. You’re content to try to sleep a little longer until the vibrations of Baela’s phone begin next to you.

You open your eyes a smidge, peering through your lashes at the screen. Rhaena’s name and face light up Baela’s phone. A cute picture of her smiling holding a pale snake around her neck, its face pressed against hers with its pink-forked tongue tickling her cheek.

“Bae,” you murmur, nudging your friend. She groans, turning to face you, peering at her phone. Rhaena’s face disappears as the call remains unanswered.

“She probably wants to go on a run or something,” Baela mumbles, “Or try to guilt me into a family beach trip.”

Rhaena calls again and Baela lets out an irritated whine.

She slides a finger over the screen, and Rhaena appears on the screen. Her violet eyes are wide, and it looks like she has just woken up as well; a pink silk bonnet hides her silver locs.

“What d’you want?” Baela mumbles at her sister.

“Get up,” Rhaena says, in a half whisper, “Get up, get up, and get to Dragonstone!”

“Ew. No,” Baela says, scrunching her nose in distaste, “Why?”

“Dudes, you need to get over hear,” Helaena’s voice is heard offscreen. Baela’s head rises from her pillow and she grabs the phone, angling it so you can see.

“Hel there?” Baela asks, as more voices can begin to be heard in the background. You share a confused glance with Baela.

“You want some drama?” Helaena snickers, coming into the frame and squeezing her face next to Rhaena’s. Shouting echoes from the room they’re in. Baela glances at you again, with a ‘what the fuck?’ expression on her face.

“.....your fault you fucking psycho!” Luke’s voice rings, breaking as though he may be crying through his yells.

Baela’s eyes widen and she glances at you, scooting closer so you can both peer over her phone.

“Maybe if you paid better attention you wouldn’t have-” Aemond’s voice carries through the speaker, a taunting, musical quality to the words he speaks.

“What the fuck?” Baela says, muting herself, “What the fuck are they talking about?”

You can hear the arguing in the background, and see Helaena grab the phone from Rhaena, smiling at you and Baela before shoving it in her pocket. You can hear the muffled conversation.

“You’re blaming me? Seriously? You came outta fucking nowhere in that old piece of shi-” Luke chokes on the words, “That ship is fucking huge!”

“You shouldn’t have been out in the stupid little dingy anyway,” Aemond’s voice carries, and you feel your face begin to burn with anger at his condescending tone directed at Luke.

“It’s too fucking late in the season-”

“Use Vermax-

“No way my trip!” Jace’s voice barely carries through, “You’re not TOUCHING my boat-”

“Shut up!”

Baela unmutes herself then.

“Rhae!” she calls, “Hel!”

Helaena’s hand enters her pocket, and she brings the phone to her face. She motions to Rhaena as the yelling continues, moving to a different room.

“What the fuck are they talking about?” you ask when the yelling has quieted down.

“Aemond sank Luke’s boat last night,” Rhaena tells you, “It’s completely destroyed. Unsalvageable.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, lips parting in shock. Baela lets out a laugh in disbelief.

“He sunk Luke’s boat? Why would he do that?” you ask and Baela rolls her eyes.

“Please, we’re lucky he didn’t kill him,” she argues, and Helaena laughs.

“Don’t count your eggs before they’ve hatched cuz,” Hel murmurs, “It’s a bloodbath in there.”

“They’ve got another boat he can sail, don’t they?” Baela asks.

“I don’t think so,” Rhaena says, shaking her head, “Unless you’re talking about..”

“I mean…..that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Baela interrupts. The twins are silent for a moment until Helaena speaks.

“Okay, I'm usually great at reading the room, but even I’m lost,” she says, and you laugh.

“Me too, Hel,” you tell her.

Baela sits up in bed sighing dramatically.

“Bring Jace and Luke, meet us at Hulls in an hour,” she instructs.

Rhaena agrees and you end the call. You watch Baela carefully, her expression is grim.

“What’s at Hull?” you ask curiously.

“My uncle’s boat,” she tells you, “Seasmoke.”

Turns out Hull was referring to a person rather than a place. Well, two people. Addam and Alyn Hull, two brothers who manage a boat rental service on Driftmark. When you and Baela arrive at the docks you’re greeted by a weathered sign that reads Hull Boat Rentals.

Luke, Jace, and Rhaena are there when you arrive. Luke’s eyes are red, along with his nose. He’s clearly been crying for most of the morning. Jace looks furious beside him and Rhaena smiles tentatively as you approach.

Baela pulls Luke into a hug immediately, and the younger boy wraps his arms around her.

“I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m sorry about Arrax,” Baela tells him, squeezing him tightly.

Luke mumbles his thanks and Baela releases him. She glances around the dock, looking at the boats lined up, rocking gently with each passing wave.

“I called Addam,” Rhaena tells her, “He’s still got some options, and Seasmoke too if that’s what we’re thinking.”

“I don’t know…” Luke says, eyes watery, “Maybe we can look around?”

“Of course, we can,” Jace agrees.

You’re greeted by Addam Hull a few minutes later; he’s a strapping young guy in jean cutoffs and a white tank top that’s seen better days. He’s covered in sweat and grease but that doesn’t dull the award-winning smile he’s got on his face.

“We’ve got a lot of options still,” Addam assures Luke, “Mostly our older schooners. Not many people rent for the regatta.”

Luke’s crestfallen expression remains as you view the available boats. You love how each one has its own name, its own personality really. Luke spends extra time on one called Grey Ghost but shakes his head when Addam asks if he likes it.

“I think we should look at…” Jace trails off. Luke frowns deeply, as though he was trying to avoid the situation.

“I’ve been taking good care of it,” Addam says softly to Luke.

“Okay,” Luke decided, “Let’s see it.”

Seasmoke is a massive sailboat, bigger than the ones you’ve seen so far. The hull is painted a pale silver-gray that reflects the light from the top of the water. It’s missing the mainsail, and seems to have been used for storage rather than sailing for the last several years.

Luke walks over to it, placing his hand on the hull. Barnacles have begun to take over and he runs his fingers along the rough surface.

“How long has she been out of commission?” Luke asks, and Addam shrugs.

“A while,” he tells him. Jace shares a concerned glance with Baela. Luke sighs, dropping his hand from the hull. Jace walks up next to him.

“Remember when Dad took us out for the first time? How we ended up in the Stepstones?” Jace says, smiling at his brother. Luke chuckles slightly.

“I remember you peeing your pants because he told us there were pirates that would get us,” Luke says with a smirk.

“It wasn’t funny!” Jace argues and you can’t help but laugh along with them. It's the first time Luke has smiled today. It wavers slightly as he looks at Seasmoke again.

You can’t imagine what’s going on in his head. It sounds like no one has sailed Seasmoke since Laenor left town. Even though you know there’s history there, that Rhaenyra had an affair with Harwin Strong, it sounds like Laenor was truly their dad. Luke’s eyes are melancholic, and he touches the hull again.

“Okay,” he says softly, “We’ll use Seasmoke.”

You slap the mop against the deck of the ship watching the water spread and turn brown almost immediately. Sheesh. This is going to be a lot of work. Luke sits miserably on the edge of the boat, his head hanging. Rhaena sits next to him, bumping her shoulder against his. He had hope in the beginning, but as the hours ticked by he became more frustrated with the large task at hand.

“It’s pointless,” Luke says softly, sniffling and rubbing his nose, “It’s going to take too long… it's not worth it.” He shakes his head, eyes trained on the deck.

“With our help, it’ll get done faster than you think,” Rhaena insists, “And then you can practice and everything will be fine.”

Luke shakes his head, unconvinced. “We need sails. Fuck- I don’t even think they make the kind Dad used…with that stupid…what’s it called? For the jib?” He sighs again. Rhaena glances at you and you begin to chew your lower lip.

“Whatever you need, Luke,” you tell the younger boy, “We’ve got your back.”

Even Helaena had joined to help assist Luke with prepping Seasmoke. She’d come dressed in overalls, hair pulled out of her face ready to get to work.

“I can call Iron Islands,” Jace tells him, “Place an order for the sails, they have all that shit.”

“That’s hours away,” Luke moans, placing his head in his hands, “And who knows if they have any left, it’s prime sailing season-”

“Mr. Negative!” Helaena chastises, “What don’t you understand?” She walks over to squat in front of him, placing a comforting hand on his knee, “We’ve got this Luke. You worry about driving this bad boy, we’ll worry about the rest.”

Jace smiles and then glances past you, a frown appearing on his face.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbles, and you follow his gaze to someone walking down the dock.

Aemond comes into view and a familiar surge of anger rushes through you as you walk down the ramp and off of Seasmoke. Aemond slows his purposeful gait when he sees you, his lip curling upwards as he comes to a halt.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Came to see the damage,” he says.

“Haven’t you done enough?” you snap.

“It was an accident,” Aemond insists, “Not my fault the little twerp can’t sail.”

“You’re such a prick,” you tell him, “I hurt your ego that much, you go for attempted murder?”

“Luke can swim,” Aemond says with a shrug.

“You really don’t fucking feel bad, do you?” you ask in disbelief.

“As I said, an accident,” he says, continuing to walk by you.

“Where are you going?”

“Onto the boat.”

“Well don’t!”

“Like I want to be stuck with you all day,” he retorts, “Not my choice.”

Luke looks up as you come aboard, rolling his eyes.

“The fuck you want?” he snaps.

“Mom insisted,” Aemond says, looking around the deck, “This is the one you chose?”

“It was the best option,” Rhaena says, defending Luke.

Aemond purses his lips together, a smug smile creeping onto his face. “Interesting choice is all.”

“Why’s that?” Jace asks, squeezing his hands into fists by his side. Baela moves toward him, as Aemond shrugs.

“Let’s go start cleaning out the lower deck,” she encourages, pushing him toward the entrance. Jace disappears below deck and Baela grimaces at you.

Helaena walks over to her brother, who tosses her a tube of sunscreen. “Mom told me to bring you that,” he tells her, following her to the other side of the deck.

“Am I totally ruining your summer?” she asks, pouting at you. You can tell this was not what Baela had planned. But you can’t find it in you to feel anything but sympathy for Luke. It wasn’t his fault this happened.

“Not at all,” you assure her, “I want to help!”

Baela smiles, and even Luke looks up, sparing a small, pained smile.

The days tick by and though it doesn’t feel like it, you’re making some progress. Baela and Jace spent the majority of time clearing out below deck and Aemond (to avoid more confrontation) made himself useful focusing on scraping the barnacles off of the sides of Seasmoke.

Scrubbing the starboard bow with Baela, another girl joins you later in the week. She introduces herself as Sara Snow, a childhood friend of Baela and Rhaena’s. She’s also incredibly kind enough to bring you all lunch from the Wolf’s Den, her family’s restaurant a few blocks away. She even brings Aemond something, tossing him a takeaway bag that he stains with his grease-stained hands.

He doesn’t join you on deck to each, choosing to sit by himself on the dock. Jace joined a solemn Luke below deck.

“I cannot believe he fucking did that,” Sara whispers, after hearing the whole story about what happened to Arrax, “The fucking nerve of that guy.”

“That’s Aem,” Helaena says, leaning her back against Sara’s, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She reaches down her shirt revealing a tightly rolled joint, bringing it to her lips as she digs in her pockets looking for a lighter.

Sara opens her purse, finding one easily as Hel struggles, passing it back to her friend. Hel murmurs a thank you around the joint before lighting it.

“Has he always been like this?” you ask, unable to help yourself. Aemond Targaryen gets under your skin.

“Like what?” Hel says, coughing slightly, passing the lit joint to Baela. She takes a long drag, closing her eyes.

“Like an ass,” you clarify and Helaena chuckles.

Sara smirks, something you don’t fail to notice.

“What?” you ask and she shakes her head.

“I don’t know what happened to him, to be honest,” Sara tells you, “Back in high school, Aemond was just like this nerdy guy. Always polite, even on the verge of sweet.”

Baela nods in agreement.

“Then he goes off to college and comes back a total prick,” she says, reaching for a french fry, “I mean, he’s always been a bit of a prick but he switched it up to being a complete douche.”

“And that whole thing with Floris…” Sara says, raising her eyebrows.

“They’re not doing that anymore,” you tell them, and they all stare, “I kind of walked into the middle of their breakup.”

Sara snorts out a laugh.

“Aemond doesn’t date,” Sara clarifies, “He took a page from Aegon’s book.”

“Ew,” Rhaena says, shuddering. She shakes her head as Baela offers her the joint. Sara plucks it from her fingers, taking a drag.

“At least Aegon doesn’t shit where he eats,” Helaena defends, “He keeps his drama away from King’s Landing.”

“Remember when he was with Cece Lannister?” Sara says, still on her Aemond train of thought, “Man, that was dramatic.”

Helaena groans. “Please don’t mention Cece. Mom is still trying to regrow the rose bushes she set on fire,” she says, shaking her head.

Your eyes widen.

“She set your house on fire?”

“Just the rose bushes,” Helaena assures. Unsurprisingly, this fact doesn’t comfort you.

“You wanna know what I heard?” Sara says, handing you the joint.

You’ve smoked before, casually, throughout your time at college. You nod, encouraging Sara to continue, placing the joint between your lips and inhaling the sweet smoke.

“I heard he had an orgy with all the Baratheon girls,” Sara says, lowering her voice considerably.

Helaena slams her hands over her ears and begins screaming, you jump in surprise at the sudden high-pitched sound. You cough, the joint nearly slipping from your fingers as you double over. Rhaena’s jaw is on the floor and Baela is shaking her head violently.

“They’re sisters!” Rhaena hisses, trying to stop Helaena’s screams, “Biologically!”

“I’m just repeating what I heard!” Sara insists, covering her mouth and laughing.

“From who?”

“Qyle Martell.”

“Oh, the most reliable fucking narrator-”

“What’s going on?” Aemond calls from his spot on the dock.

Your laughter and screams stop abruptly as you all call back different versions of “nothing!” “Everything's fine!” and Helaena screaming, “You pervert!”

Aemond holds his hands out in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. He meets your eyes and you blush, hoping he doesn’t notice as you quickly avert your gaze.

After a few more hours and a quick swim to clean the sweat and grease from the work and you slip your extra sundress over your bathing suit, ready to head out for the day.

“Dinner?” Sara asks, “We can go to the Wolf Den.”

“We’ve had that nearly every day this week,” Baela moans.

“It's summer. We eat every meal there,” Sara insists, clasping her hands on Baela’s shoulders, “Besides, Y/N hasn’t been to the Wolf Den yet! She’s got to meet Cregan!”

Sara’s been telling you all about her brother; he seems nice. You’re all tired and too hungry to disagree so you head to the Wolf Den. Aemond narrows his eyes at Helaena, who nudges him with her shoulder.

“You’re as bad as Egg,” she teases, and his eyes narrow.

“Why?” Aemond asks, a frown playing on his lips.

“I’ve heard rumors about you little bro,” she says and shudders dramatically, “Rumors a sister should not be hearing about her little brother. Ew.” Helaena sticks her tongue out, pretending to gag.

Aemond’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What do you mean?” he asks but Helaena shakes her head.

“I’m not repeating what I heard! What, am I, a gossip now?” Helaena says, feigning offense with a hand over her chest. Aemond purses his lips and continues arguing with her as they walk ahead of you.

The Wolf Den is on the mainland, and with Seasmoke in no condition to sail, you pile onto Vermax; though Aemond leaves on another side of the docks. You don’t see where he goes, but when you ask Helaena she merely shrugs.

“He’s not getting on a boat with Luke again,” she tells you, “But he’ll probably come through to the Wolf Den. Dude’s gotta eat.”

After a gentle trip across Blackwater Bay, Helaena offers to drive you all in her light blue convertible. The Wolf’s Den is cute; the outer deck is decorated with twinkling multicolored string lights. It’s right on the water, and the music can be heard from outside. Sara ushers you in and you see the appeal right away.

High ceilings, a generous amount of tables, and a dance floor in the middle of the room. Paper lanterns hang from the ceiling rafters, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. It's warm and cozy and inviting. The bartender, a big beefy guy with a thick beard, waves at Sara. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt decorated with wolves wearing sunglasses, and lounging on the beach.

“Sup sis,” he says as you walk over to the bar with her, “Woah, no kids at the bar please, we’ve been through this.” Luke frowns dramatically at him. So this must be Cregan.

“Even if I’m sad?” he asks, jutting out his lower lip.

“You still 17?” Cregan asks, and Luke opens his mouth to protest, “Yeah, no. Grab that booth over there.”

Luke mumbles something under his breath, but Jace clasps a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the bar. Rhaena goes to join them as they head to claim a booth.

“Sup Jace,” Cregan calls, and Jace glances over his shoulder. His cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink as he says hello. Sara scoots into a chair, motioning for you to sit. You do, Baela sliding next to you.

“What’re you drinking?” Cregan asks, smiling warmly at you, “I’m Cregan, by the way.” He offers his hand you take it, feeling the rough calluses as he engulfs your hand in his.

“Y/N,” you tell him, with a smile, “And umm is there something you recommend?”

Cregan releases your hand, nodding appreciatively. “The Winter Rose, if you trust me. It’s our current special.”

“I’ll do that,” you tell him.

“A risk taker, I like it,” he says, grabbing a shaker, “Ladies?”

“We’ll make it easy for you Stark, we’ll have the same,” Baela answers for herself and Sara. You look around the Wolf Den, just as Aemond walks through the door. You catch his eye briefly, before looking away, exhaling. Helaena notices, slipping off her stool to greet her brother. You can’t help but watch, noticing he’s joined by the same man from last week who he played tennis with.

As Cregan slides your drinks in front of you, Baela notices your distraction. She follows your gaze.

“Criston Cole,” she says, nodding to Aemond’s friend, “A friend of Alicent’s.” Aemond, Criston, and Helaena choose a table to sit at, on the opposite side of the room than Luke’s. It's deliberate, the choosing of sides. Even under the guise of working together on Seasmoke, the tension is palpable in the Wolf Den.

You spend most of the evening chatting and sharing drinks and food with Sara and Baela. They have the funniest stories about growing up together; spending summers between King’s Landing and Driftmark. They met with Sara and Cregan had moved to King’s Landing from Winterfell after the death of their father.

“Baela was my hero,” Sara told you, “I came to school, my first day at a new school, wearing my dire wolf slippers.” She bites her lips, “Kids started teasing me, calling me wolf girl. Baela punched 3 kids in their noses.”

“Friends ever since,” Baela says, smiling widely, before insisting you have to hit the dance floor, at least once this evening. One song turns into five, and soon you’re having the time of your life in the middle of the dance floor.

After a while, you slide up to the bar, ordering water, leaning your palms against the counter. You’re a tad tipsy, that perfect buzz where you feel incredibly warm, and your palms have started to tingle.

Cregan hands you your water, before attending to other patrons. You hold the glass against your bare sternum, relishing the feeling of the cool condensation on your skin. You dip your fingers into the cup, removing an ice cube and sliding it over your collarbone, and around the back of your neck.

“Having fun?” you’d know that snarky voice anywhere. Aemond slides up next to you, leaning against the bar. His eye tracks a drop of water that runs down your chest, before disappearing between your cleavage.

You bring the ice cube to your lips, rubbing them against it.

“Yup,” you murmur around it, not really sure why he’s making small talk with you.

The ice cube has nearly melted, so you hold it against the back of your neck once more.

“Hot?” Aemond murmurs. You glance up at him.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re hot?” he asks again, motioning to the ice cube.

“I was dancing,” you tell him.

“I saw,” he says, lip curling upwards.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you ask, the liquor giving you courage, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you-”

“You ruined a family heirloom the first day I met you,” Aemond interrupts, tapping his long fingers against the bar.

“That was an accident,” you tell him, again, but your cheeks bloom with blush regardless.

Aemond smiles at that, eye flickering over your face.

“Your flower boy ask you out yet?” Aemond asks, quickly changing the subject.

“Flower boy?” you ask, until you realize he’s referring to Will, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, raising a brow, “Just curious. It gets dull around here.”

“The thrill from sinking teenage boys' boats only lasts so long, huh?” you tell him, turning to face him. Shit, he’s tall. You’re forced to look up at him through your lashes. Aemond turns slightly, leaning one hand against the bar as he smirks down at you.

“I’ll have to find something else to entertain me,” he agrees, tilting his head.

“Heard you don’t have a problem with that,” the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. Goddamn, it. Baela once told you your mouth would be the death of you. Sometimes you just can’t seem to stop your thoughts.

“What’s that mean?” Aemond asks with a shimmer of curiosity in his eye.

“Nothing,” you tell him, shaking your head, “Stop talking to me.”

“The mouth on you,” Aemond says, shaking his head, “You’re being rather rude.”

Your jaw slacks, eyes widening. “I’m being rude? You’re the one being rude!” you tell him.

“How so?” he inquires, a puzzled expression crossing his features. You scowl at him.

“You’re just trying to be an ass,” you tell him, shaking your head, “You know, I’m a very nice person. We could have been friends.”

“You and I are not going to be friends,” Aemond says, voice lowering an octave. He looks at you intensely and you feel warmth creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. You break away from his gaze, taking a sip of your water.

“Sara was fucking lying,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

Aemond brings his lower lip between his teeth. You can tell, he’s genuinely curious about what information you have on him.

“About….?” he asks.

Your cheeks are blazing with heat, but you decide to call him out.

“About you and Floris,” you say, placing your glass on the counter, “And her siblings? Sounds a little incestuous to me.”

Aemond’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. You reach for your drink again, needing something to do with your hands.

“Oh?” he says, pursing his lips. He hums slightly, gazing at you.

“I didn’t believe it,” you tell him, sipping your drink, “Four girls is a lot to handle.”

“It’s surprisingly easy when you know what you’re doing,” Aemond answers casually.

You nearly choke, but manage to compose yourself as he watches you carefully. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Your mind drifts to Floris, the conversation you overheard. To Cece Lannister burning rose bushes. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You can’t help your curiosity. Aemond somehow had them wrapped around his finger.

“Yeah right,” you tell him, laughing slightly, “You’re all talk.”

You’re baiting him slightly, but you don’t care.

“You wanna find out?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Your breath catches as he leans forward, bending slightly to your height. Aemond brings his face next to yours, you can feel the tip of his nose drag across your cheek. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut.

“There’s a bathroom right down the hall,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll show you what all that talks about.”

Holy shit.

You were not expecting that reaction.

“I’m not fucking you in the bathroom,” you hiss, pushing your hand against his chest. You can’t think with his breath against your ear.

“Wherever you want,” he tells you, grabbing your wrist. His touch is like fire, as he rubs his thumb along the smooth skin of your inner wrist. Goosebumps form on your arms and you have to suppress a slight whimper.

Girl, get it together. You’re tipsy that’s all. It's just the alcohol and a hot guy, nothing more. It doesn’t help that the last time you got laid was a one-night stand months ago that left you on read when you reached out the next day.

“Wha-what?” you ask him, eyes wide.

“Name the place,” he says, “And time. I’m very punctual.”

You blink, not believing what you’re hearing.

“You’re not serious-”

“I am though,” he says, pursing his lips, “You tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head.

“You don’t even like me-”

“So?”

Anger surges through you, along with a sharp sting of humiliation. Your lips turn down in a frown.

“You’re beautiful,” Aemond says, shocking you like a slap to the face, “Clearly intelligent. I don’t see why we can’t help each other out.”

“What are you even talking about?” you ask in bewilderment.

“A friends-with-benefits situation,” Aemond answers, honestly.

“You’re not even my friend! You said so yourself!” you tell him, a shaky laugh leaving your lips.

“We can change the name of the arrangement if that’s your hesitation,” Aemond assures you.

“If you’re looking for a fuckbuddy, call Floris,” you tell him.

“That door is closed,” he tells you and you blink in disbelief. He’s speaking so clinically, in such a detached manner.

Jesus Christ, who hurt this guy?

“Well then take your pick of the other Baratheon girls!” you encourage, “I’m not interested!”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says, smirking, “You know where to find me.”

You hurry away from the bar, and back onto the dancefloor with Baela, Sara, Helaena, and Rhaena. They greet you with open arms and pull you into a dance. You glance back at the bar where Aemond still stands, watching you as he leans against the bar.

You meet his eye, feeling warmth pool in your lower belly. No fucking way. Not this prick. You’re not that down bad for a summer fling. And plus, you have options! Will Tyrell seems like a nice guy! And Driftmark is a big island. So is King’s Landing. Anyone can be your summer fling.

Anyone but him.

note: is it.....getting warm in here? just me? okay bye hehe

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected

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