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e1e4n0r5 · 4 months

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Twisted Love: Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You always expected to marry your twin brother, Daeron. However, when this does not come to be, you find comfort with your siblings. As only Targaryens could.

A/N: Okay, this chapter is a little angsty! Aemond is having some big feelings and he doesn’t know how to express those feelings with words because of his emotionally stunted upbringing. But you can bet his wife is gonna knock that out of him pretty quickly.

Warnings: canon-typical incest, figging (insertion of ginger root into the anus), coercion/dub-con if you squint, mention of past fire-play, jealous husband, relationship insecurity, ANGST

You bounced on the balls of your feet, wringing your hands in front of you as you watched the skies for any sign of Daeron and his dragon. It was time; your twin was finally returning home. After ten long years apart, you would finally be together. The two of you; all five siblings.

Aemond watched you out of the corner of his eye as he stood up straight next to you; his place as your husband and as Daeron’s brother, loathe as he was to admit the latter. He couldn’t deny that he wasn’t exactly happy with this development, of the youngest Targaryen-Hightower sibling returning to Kings Landing, most likely for good. He detested change, and he had grown accustomed to the routines and structure the four of you had established for yourselves. Not to mention the dynamic; Aegon might have been the eldest, but he was hardly the one in charge. Aemond enjoyed being the head of the group, the feelings of security, power, and dominance it gave him on a daily basis. He wasn’t looking forward to bringing in an unknown fifth element into the arrangement you all had together. Even if that fifth person was his own sibling.

He enjoyed being your husband, and having you as his wife. He felt he had won that day, the day you asked him to marry you. The day you promised yourself to him, and he to you. The day you consummated your love for each other, officially. He was dreading the fact that the man you had spent your entire childhood fantasising about marrying would now be present in your lives every single day. Daeron hadn’t set foot in Kings Landing in ten years, and you had never been allowed to travel to Oldtown. Aemond had had you all to himself (not including your other siblings and children) for a decade, and now he just knew Daeron was about to steal you away. He’d lost an eye to Lucerys, and he would soon lose his wife to his own brother.

He leant forward and whispered in your ear. “Settle down, my love,” he enjoyed watching you shiver at his soft Valyrian. “People might think you have a ginger root up your ass.”

You blushed bright red, your back passage tingling with the memories of that day.

Aemond had been awake before you, as he always rose with the sun, whereas you liked to sleep until mid-morning. It wasn’t your fault; your husband was insatiable. There was a freezing Winter snow falling across the city, forcing Aemond to cancel his training with Cole that morning. So instead, he’d had a devilish idea.

You had spied him sitting in his chair by the fire, his hands working something with a small knife.

“Good morning, husband,” you greeted him as you slid your feet into your fur-lined slippers and pulled on your thick dressing gown, crossing the room.

“Good morning, wife,” he replied back, not taking his eye off the thing in his hands. Was he whittling?

When you got closer, you saw that it wasn’t wood. It was softer than that. A fruit?

“What are you doing?”

He smirked up at you. “I think I might just have found an ingenious way to keep you warm today, my love.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Have you commissioned me some clothing I don’t know about?”

He laughed, a rare but beautiful sound. “No. No, wife, not clothes.” He held up the thing in his hands. A ginger root.

“Ginger?” you asked with a small smile. “Are you going to put it in my tea? You know I can’t stand the taste.”

“No, my love; your ass.”

He said it so casually that you didn’t pick up on it at first. It took you a few seconds, then you gawked at him.

“What?” you demanded.

He carved the root a little more, examining it from different angles. He seemed satisfied. “Aegon told me of a little trick he’d heard about. Assured me it’s well worth a try.”

Before you could respond, the passage between your room and your siblings’ opened up, your brother and sister stepping through.

“Morning to you both,” Aegon greeted cheerfully. Helaena had clearly already satisfied him. “What have you both got planned for the day? Helaena was thinking of taking the children down to the Dragonpit.”

“Aemond wants to put ginger up my ass!” you declared hysterically.

The two of them didn’t even blink.

“Oh, figging,” Helaena explained, walking over to Aemond and examining the root he had carved. “Yes, it’s a very interesting experience. Aegon and I have both done it a few times now.”

“Always a fun time,” he winked at you, helping himself to a few grapes from your breakfast platter.

“Very well carved, Aemond. Good thinking with the flared base.”

“And a good size too,” Aegon added. “Our little sister will definitely be titillated today.”

You stared at your siblings, abashed. Out of all the things the four of you had done together, for some reason this was the thing that baffled you the most. Why, in the name of the Seven, would anyone want to insert ginger into ones back passage?

The three of them chuckled at how you were staring back at them all. Aemond stood up.

“Y/N, dear wife, be a good girl and bend over the bed. Now.”

You instinctually covered your rear with your hands, shaking your head nervously. “It’ll hurt, won’t it?”

“Not hurt,” Aegon shrugged.

“But it’s definitely a memorable experience,” Helaena smiled dreamily. “Aemond, do you have another piece you could carve for me? I think I’d like to partake.”

Aemond nodded. “I do, dear sister.”

“As big and thick as you can, please,” she hummed happily, picking up her skirts as she walked over to your bed. She bent herself over, exposing her ass completely.

“I only have a smaller piece. Helaena, why don’t you take this one I’ve already done, and I’ll carve a smaller one for Y/N? She seems hesitant about this whole experience.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you, brother.”

Aemond looked to you. “Abrazȳrys (wife),” he commanded, “come here. Now. Watch how Helaena takes this, and you’ll see it’s not as bad as you are imagining.”

You headed over to the bed, Aegon holding you against his body as both of you watched Aemond dip the root in some oil and then slowly press it into Helaena’s ass. Her hole accepted the small intrusion with no effort, but she began mewling regardless. Aemond pressed his thumb to the flared base of the root, keeping it in place in her ass as her hips lifted up and down, grinding against the bed sheets.

“Does it hurt, sister?” Aemond asked. “Be honest; our little Y/N doesn’t want any lies.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. But it burns a little. It’s wonderful.”

“Burns?” you gasped.

“Nothing too bad,” Aegon reassured you, kissing the side of your head. “It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”

You frowned at Aemond as he began peeling and carving the other root. The one he intended to put inside you. “Husband, I’m not sure about this…?”

“You don’t need to be sure, wife,” he said simply. He looked at you, his eye softening a little. “Do you trust me? Do you trust that I would never harm you, or wish ill upon you?”

Your frown softened in return. “Yes. Of course, I do.”

“Then trust me now. This will be an interesting experience for you. It won’t harm you at all. I want you to try it. For me. And if you truly do hate it, you don’t have to do it again.”

“Except as punishments,” Aegon added cheekily, playfully squeezing you a little.

You smiled at him and Aemond, your will bent to theirs. “Alright.”

“Good, now bend over the bed, next to Helaena.” He paused. “Who seems to have climaxed all over our sheets.”

Helaena had indeed orgasmed, seemingly just from grinding herself against the edge of the bed, with the root in her ass. “It just feels so good,” she explained lightly, no shame at all in her voice.

Aemond smirked back at you, his argument won. “See? How awful can it be when Helaena climaxes in just one minute?”

You choose not to say that some of Helaena’s desires can be a little sadomasochistic, often deriving pleasure from giving and receiving various forms of pain. She had once orgasmed when Aemond and Aegon held lit candles to her inner thighs. Not close enough to burn her skin, yet close enough to hurt. It was peculiar, even for Targaryens.

Aegon nudged you forward, bending you over and pulling up your nightgown and robe. Helaena gripped your hand, still grinding and moaning on the bed. Aemond stepped up behind you, squeezing your buttocks and giving you a few spanks.

“Are you ready, wife?” he asked you, spreading your cheeks with the fingers of one hand.

You nodded. “Yes, husband.”

You snapped back to the present even as your mind ran through the sensations of having that ginger inserted into your back passage. How it had stretched you and begun to burn. As Helaena had described, it hadn’t been horrific, but it had kept you on your toes all day, until Aemond had removed the root after fucking you senseless in the evening.

Daeron’s dragon Tessarion’s cry filled the air. Not too far away, you could see her outline in the clouds above. He was here. Your brother was finally here.

Tessarion landed a hundred yards or so away, just enough for you to turn your head slightly to avoid the dust her wings kicked up. You almost didn’t recognise the man in the saddle. It was a man, not your twelve-year-old twin brother. You couldn’t make out his features, but you could see the Targaryen white hair. The man dismounted, rubbing Tessarion’s neck affectionately before sending her to fly to the Dragon Pit.

He started walking towards you all.

Your heart raced.

You moved to step forward, but Aemond and Aegon discreetly held you back. The Queen had to greet him, as was protocol. They could feel your need, but you only had to wait a little longer.

“Prince Daeron. My darling boy,” your mother greeted.

It was him. It was Daeron. He was older, a man grown. But he was your brother. His cheeks have slimmed, his nose a little longer, his jawline stronger. But he was here.

“Your Grace. Mother.”

They embraced, only for a second, before pulling apart. It was warm, by your mother’s standards.

She turned. “Your father, the King, is abed at the moment. The years have taken their toll, but I shall take you to see him later. You remember your siblings. Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Princess Y/N. You know Aegon and Helaena married, we’ll have tea with their children soon. And Aemond and Y/N-”

Daeron rushed forward and pulled you into his arms, uncaring at your mother’s indignation and scolding. You clung to each other, and the world stopped. He smelled the same, whereas he lamented that you had changed your perfume, or perhaps you now add oil to your hair?

“Sister,” Daeron breathed in your ear, holding you tightly, his eyes closing in bliss as your perfume filled his senses. Oh, how he had missed you. It had been agony for him, every day he thought of you, longed for you. He’d never wanted to leave in the first place, it was his mother’s and grandsire’s idea. His heart had been crushed when he had read mother’s letter four years earlier informing him of your marriage. He had been filled with anger; how dare Aemond steal his wife from him, just because he was away studying. It was an outrage; he had been tempted to fly back to Kings Landing on Tessarion and dispute the whole matter, to take you away and live as husband and wife together. But he had known that he would never have stood a chance against Aemond, nor Tessarion against Vhagar.

His eyes opened and he caught Aemond’s. The taller brother stared down the younger, his one-eye unblinking. Daeron swallowed thickly, keeping hold of you for support. “Brother Aemond,” he greeted in a somewhat shaky voice.

“Valonqar (little brother),” Aemond greeted with a smirk, enjoying his brother’s obvious discomfort at his presence. He didn’t like the way Daeron was holding you so tightly, it irked him, but he could disquiet his brother in other ways. “I hope you’ve kept up with your Valyrian; the four of us speak it often, and the children are learning too.”

Daeron flinched. “Forgive me, brother, there was no-one to help me maintain our ancestral language in Oldtown. I only speak Common Tongue now.”

Aemond nodded his head and smirked; another piece of leverage to use against this intruder.

You didn’t notice your brothers’ tension, pulling out of Daeron’s arms. You cupped his face in both your hands, staring closely at his face. He had grown so much. He wasn’t as tall as Aemond, nor as strong, but he was here. He was home. You longed to kiss his lips, but settled for both his cheeks, your lips lingering on his skin. “Finally,” you whispered, like a prayer, “Finally, you’re home.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m home. And I’m not leaving.” He looked up at Aemond at the end.

Aemond just smirked. ‘We’ll see about that, brother’, he thought.

The eldest sibling stepped forward to break the tension, even as he had to hold in his laughter. “Daeron, it’s been so long,” Aegon greeted, pulling Daeron in for a hug.

The two brothers embraced for a few seconds before separating. “Hello, Aegon. I missed you. Helaena,” he smiled at his other sister, kissing her cheek before embracing her.

“Y/N missed you greatly,” Helaena said in her soft voice. “She’s happy now you’re home.” Daeron tried not to interpret that as you being the only sibling who had missed him and glad to have him back.

Aemond spoke up. “Why don’t we take him to meet our children?” he asked, smiling down at you with his hand on the small of your back.

You completely missed how Aemond stressed ‘our’. Daeron did not, frowning at the taller, older brother.

Your face lit up. “Oh yes! They’d love to meet you!” you grasped his hand, pulling him towards the castle. “Come on, Daeron, come meet them.”

Aemond added, his smile widening wickedly as he clasped his hand on Daeron’s shoulder, “Yes, your niece and nephew would love to meet their uncle. Our son Maenor and our daughter Aena, though little Aena is not yet one so she won't have much to say.”

Daeron had to keep his mind on you and your happiness, as not to punch Aemond on the jaw. Aemond was playing with him, it was clear and painful. They both knew Daeron had been hoping and expecting to sire children with you himself, so to hear the words ‘uncle’, ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’… It was all just a game to Aemond.

One he had won.

The five of you, your mother, your grandsire Otto, and the five children filled Aegon and Helaena’s sitting room with a tea service. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, sat politely with the grown-ups and had a piece of cake before playing on the floor. Maelor and Maenor ate some cake on the floor, closely monitored by Aemond and a nanny. And you sat little Aena on Daeron’s lap, chuckling softly when you had to show your twin how to support her properly as she liked to bounce on her feet now she was close to walking.

Alicent and Otto were called out to a Small Council meeting after an hour or so, leaving you all together.

“You know Maelor and Maenor were born within the same week,” you smiled, watching with a proud smile as your son showed your twin his newest bracelet made for him by Helaena. Daeron still held little Aena somewhat awkwardly on his lap, but your little girl didn’t seem fussed, only cooing happily as she gummed on a wooden spoon. It made your heart swell, and almost brought tears to your eyes. In another life, they could have been his children. But then they wouldn’t be Aemond’s, which would mean they would be different. And you wouldn’t change your life or children for anything. You’d give Daeron a child someday, you knew it.

“It’s why we named them so similar,” Helaena agreed. “I actually delayed naming Maelor when he was born until Y/N had Maenor and had named him. They were conceived on the same night, after all.”

You choked on your tea and Daeron almost dropped Aena. Aemond quickly scooped your daughter out of her uncle’s arms, having been hovering at the side. He was very protective of both your children, but especially Aena. She had him wrapped around her tiny fingers, even though Aemond would never admit that. He bounced her up and down and cooed at her to distract her from crying. She was smitten with her father so it was always an effective tactic.

“Helaena…” you whispered. Daeron didn’t know any of that yet!

She seemed to realise her error. “Oh. I’m sorry, Daeron. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only meant that Y/N and I had fertile days around the same time.”

That didn’t help.

“Do you think either of you will have more children?” he asked quietly, looking awkwardly down at the floor. He prayed you’d say no.

Alas, Helaena continued. “I’m actually trying to conceive at the moment, so it’s fortunate you-”

You interrupted. “I’m sure I’ll have more children in the future. Aena isn’t quite one yet, so in a few months, mayhaps. Does that sound alright, Aemond?”

Your husband looked at you from kissing your daughter’s chubby cheeks. “I’m always happy to have children with you, my love. We practice often enough,” he winked at you, basking in how much Daeron physically cringed.

You blushed and dipped your head. What was happening with everyone today?

That night was the first complete family dinner in over ten years, the King included. It was a lovely meal, it had filled your heart to finally be seated next to Daeron after so long apart, but there had been an undeniable tension in the room, coming off both Aemond and Daeron. Aemond had kept his hand firmly on your thigh the whole evening, not even moving it when food was served. He used his left hand to make your plate up, then his own, eating slowly with just his one hand. He barely said a word beside you as you caught up with your beloved twin.

After everyone was finished and conversation had lasted well into the evening, you all dispersed back to your rooms. Aegon and Helaena came in to yours and Aemond’s rooms via their usual passage, and you poured the three of them some wine. You had drunk enough for the day, feeling tired and a little emotional after the long day. Aegon and Helaena sat on a sofa by the main fireplace, reclining back comfortably. Aemond stood by the fire, contemplative as he stared into the flames and took the occasional sip of his drink. You felt restless from the energy he was exuding, sitting delicately on the arm of an armchair.

“It’s nice to have Daeron home,” you offered to the room.

Helaena nodded. “It will be, when we all know each other again.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aegon pitched in. “You have to admit, sister; Daeron’s been gone so long, he’s basically a stranger to us now.”

“No, he’s not!” you protested. “Don't say that, he’s our brother! He’s always been our brother. It wasn’t his fault he was sent away.”

He jokingly held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying it is. But we haven’t seen each other in a decade, and there’s only so much letter-writing can do. If I hadn’t known who he was when he arrived, I wouldn’t have recognised him.”

“Aegon is right,” Helaena concurred. “He’s a stranger now, but he won’t be soon. The dragon lost will be found again.”

Before you could get upset about your brother's and sister’s attitude towards your twin, Aegon spoke up again.

“Well, how funny is it that you want your little brother’s babies?” Aegon laughed good-naturedly to his wife. “I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

Helaena just shrugged. “Well, you have three children already. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge Daeron a child with his sister?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” he smirked, looking at Aemond.

The three of you looked at Aemond, observing him as he just stood by the fire, wine cup in hand. “Fuck off, Aegon,” he grumbled.

Helaena paid no attention to his mood. “I think it would be nice if Y/N and I were both pregnant at the same time again, and especially if both babes were Daeron’s.” You looked at her beseechingly, silently begging her to stop talking. You could feel Aemond’s ire rising. He has never and would never hurt any of you, but his temper was infamous within the Keep. “Aegon has three children and, Aemond, you have two. Daeron doesn’t have any-”

“Because he’s been pissing away his years in Oldtown,” he snapped. He moved from the fire and practically threw himself into the armchair where you sat on the arm. He fisted the loose material at the back of your robe. He needed to be close to you and to squeeze something, but would never hurt you for it. “It’s not my fault he never came back to be with us. He has a dragon more than capable of flying from Oldtown to Kings Landing; he could have told Grandsire to get fucked and returned at any time. He chose not to; he chose to stay in Oldtown with those prissy Maesters and dusty books. It certainly doesn’t mean my wife owes him a child. You give him one if you want, sister, if you think it would be nice.”

“Let’s all change the subject,” you said softly, rubbing Aemond’s knee.

Aegon, rather drunk, had other ideas. “So how will we get him to join us? He’s been cooped up for years, after all. Doubt he’s ever seen a tit, let alone a cunt.”

You groaned, standing up. You took Aemond’s cup from his hand and drained it in one gulp. He didn’t even look bothered. You refilled it from the jug and handed it back to your husband. He lifted it slightly in thanks, drinking deeply. You had known Daeron’s return would disturb him, but you hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

“I think that can wait,” you said diplomatically. You couldn’t and wouldn’t hide your desire to have your twin join the four of you, but it wasn’t an urgent matter, and your husband was perturbed enough as it was. “Let’s all just get to know him again.”

Helaena frowned at you quizzically. “Have you not been desiring this for a long time, sister? You planned to be his wife growing up, not Aemond’s.”

That was Aemond’s final straw. He stood up abruptly, stormed over to his side of the bed and began angrily disrobing for bed.

Aegon and Helaena misinterpreted the action as an invitation, standing up and heading towards the bed.

You stood in front of them with a shake of your head. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Aegon shrugged. “Alright. Come on, dear wife. Away to bed for us.”

“Do you want to fuck my ass?” Helaena offered neutrally.

You heard Aegon reply as they headed back down the passageway to their own rooms. “You know I’ll never say no to that offer.”

You turned back to the bed, seeing Aemond already under the sheets, facing away from the room. You walked over to the bed, climbing on it from your side.

“Aemond?” you asked, kneeling behind him. He gave no response. You looked at his nightstand. His eyepatch lay on the dresser, but the dish where he stored his sapphire was empty. He hadn’t taken it out. “Aemond, sweetheart, you need to take out your eye,” you leant down and kissed his bicep. “You know it will hurt in the morning if you leave it in.”

Still silent, he removed his sapphire, placing it in the bowl.

Glad he had at least listened to you, you lay down behind him. You tucked yourself in as close as you could to him, wrapping your arm tightly around his waist from behind. “Aemond, I love you. You know that, don't you?”

Seconds ticked by and your heart pounded in your ears.

After what felt like an eternity, he took your hand and pulled it up, kissing the back. “I love you too.”

You considered it a success. “I'm so happy to be your wife.”

Aemond had to hold back tears. “I'm happy to be your husband.” Until you leave me.

@watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @aemondsdelight @thelittleswanao3 @misspascalpunk @heavenly1927 @probablybraindamage @theoneepileptic

#twisted love #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader

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lanternlightersblog · 2 years

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#Repost @sorina_teiusanu • • • • • • Madrid, Spain Keyword: do what you love and only what you love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #ig_travel #ontheroad #ig_europe #spain #españa #cityscape #oldtown #instagood #instadaily #instamood #beautifuldestinations #citygrammers #cityphotography #traveling #tourist #sunnyday #sun #Ukrainewillwin https://www.instagram.com/p/CicHm8Aoh_t/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#repost #ig_travel #ontheroad #ig_europe #spain #españa #cityscape #oldtown #instagood #instadaily #instamood #beautifuldestinations #citygrammers #cityphotography #traveling #tourist #sunnyday #sun #ukrainewillwin

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sare11aa11eras · 16 days

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Heyy! if you’re still taking art requests and if you have the time, can you draw Arya killing Dareon?

“Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.”

“We all were. Lord Snow’s command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.” The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. “Well, it’s too late now.”

“Just so,” said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley.

-Cat of the Canals, A Feast for Crows

Hi nonny!! Sorry this took like. A month for me to actually sit down and start working on. Hope you like it!

Few notes under the cut!

When I sat down to re-read the scene, I was struck by how Martin’s narration skips over the actual killing, jumping ahead to Arya returning home that night. This is of course a dramatic tool, obscuring the murder from first time readers so that Arya revealing it at the end of the chapter is that much more striking, but I think it’s interesting from a writing standpoint that we don’t get to see Dareon die from her point of view here. We get none of her internal monologue, her rationale for the killing, just the conversation leading up to it and the consequences later. I really like this as a writing choice, as it leaves so much up to the reader’s observation and understanding of her character.

Visually it was very important to me to show the vair lining the inside of the cloak, a visual/color reminder that Arya makes this execution as an exercise of her Stark identity— he is a night’s watch deserter and furthermore he just make a remark about Jon. As a Stark, it is her duty to kill Night’s Watch deserters, and she likely feels a double duty as Jon’s sister. Vair is not consistently used to signify the Starks in the text— only 4/10 total instances of it, including this one, in the text are in reference to the Starks, two more are for the Freys, and one is for Cersei, so clearly it’s not a Stark-exclusive. Still, the grey and white vair on the inside of the cloak instantly struck me as a symbol of how Arya views Dareon in this moment as a Stark man who has betrayed her family.

I realize you might have hoped for a clearer depiction of Arya, but I had a few reasons for this layout. First, I wanted to obscure her face— obscure her emotions and motivations, just as the text does, leaving them to the audience’s deductive skills. Secondly, this was a pretty easy pose and it got me that visual piece with the cloak. And thirdly, the description of the scene emphasizes Arya stepping into the shadows, and I wanted to capture that ninja assassin mystique to the scene as it would have been from a personal point of view.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my art #art requests #arya stark #dareon the singer #affc #anonymous #hi nonny!#Asks #asoiaf fashion hour #cat of the canals #dareon

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bri-sonat · 11 months

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Captain and the Mate - Part One

Pairing: Pirate!Captain!Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol & blood, brief death mention, sapphic yearning, the usual warnings when writing in the GoT universe.

Synopsis: When the infamous Captain Bri makes port to recruit members to her crew, you don't waste the opportunity. To your relief and pleasure, she accepts you, and the time spent aboard her ship and among her crew leads to many things. One of them being a relationship developing between you and the Captain herself.

A/N: Happy Pride Month!! This has been sitting uncompleted in my word since like, February? March? I am not sure. Either way, a very long time. The fact that I finished this during Pride Month was only coincidental, though I am glad it ended like this because Pirate Captain Brienne is the hottest thing I have ever seen in a long time and I hope you all think the same! The sea shanty referenced is this one, but I have modified it a little bit, of course. Either way, it's good. Listen to it if you wish. :) English is not my first language and so on. Enjoy!

Thank you to bae, wifey, co-brainrotter, sharer of brain cells, and co-writer, @daydream-cement for unknowingly giving me this idea by sending a picture to the GC all those months ago.

The summer evening sun set over Oldtown as you followed the Honeywine down to the nearby inn and tavern. The Hightower's fading shadow informs you of the late hours - confirming that you were right on time for your destination and its event.

Word had spread fast when she had arrived. Whispers enthusiastically gossiped about why she was here, and what her business was. Eventually, the information reached your spiked ears: she was recruiting members for her crew.

This was something you had dreamt of ever since you heard about her: sailing with her. Someone who struck fear in people with the same name she was praised with, her actions earning her a nickname traders rued to hear. Her sails and flag striking terror and fright across all nine seas whenever spotted, and rightfully so.

She had quite a reputation. The pirate Captain who only raided, robbed, pillaged, boarded, and stole from the large, and wealthy trading companies. No one knew why she does what she does, why she only attacks the ships she does, only she knew. It was one of the largest mysteries surrounding her, she was an enigma, and she intrigued, and fascinated you at the same time.

The glowing braze of the Hightower danced in the Honeywine along with the nearby torches of the various stone houses that stood along the river. Every step you took brought you closer to the tavern, and effectively closer to her, and it was only when the tall and wooden Quill and Tankard Inn came into vision that you realized just how stupid this was.

What did you think was going to happen? That you’d just be able to waltz straight in, and that she’d accept you to her crew? No, that was wishful thinking. She would have many men on their knees in front of her, begging to sail with her, if they knew what was good for them. To even have an audience with someone with her renown was a privilege, and you were just satisfied with being in her presence.

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be looking for more than just work power. You had heard whispers that she had lost her Quartermaster and that she was in need of a new one, but this was just hearsay, and gossip, and you decided not to trust any of the two.

Opening the door to the wooden tavern, you quickly laid notice of the fact that it was quieter than you were used to, surely had to do with the looming presence in the room.

In the back of it - in front of the hearth and under the slanted roof - an intimidating, short-haired blonde woman sat by a table. A goblet in one hand, the other fiddling with a dagger. Her booted feet were slung up on the wooden surface as she gently rocked on her chair.

She looked bored, apathetic. The dimly light tavern only cast a shadow over her face, meaning you couldn’t quite see what she looked like from where you stood.

The tavern was empty, well, emptier than you had expected and you wondered if she had turned any men away because they failed to live up to her standards, or if you were the first one to arrive. Judging from the fuming men who sat in a corner you could see as you approached the bar, you guessed the former.

“Good evening. Do you want your usual?” The barkeep approached you as you stopped at the bar, her hands wiping themselves on the apron around her waist before they came up to help her lean against the bar top. You and she had formed an interesting friendship after your regular visits, and you had spent many evenings ranting to her about your long-time wish to sail with Captain Bri.

Unbeknownst to you, the uninterested blonde’s eyes had found you the second your back was turned. She raised her goblet to her lips, taking a sip of the strong cider the tavern was known for. The movement in her other hand never stilled, the dagger constantly moving in her scarred hand.

The reason for her eyes finding you was unknown to her, maybe it was because you had been the only non-man to come into the tavern that evening, the bartender excluded. Or maybe it was because she found you, a complete stranger to her, intriguing and magnetic, even if it was subconsciously.

Either way, her gaze was fixed on your back for a few seconds as you interacted with the barkeep, only redirecting her attention somewhere else once one of the men from her crew exclaimed how ‘slim the pickings’ were from beside her.

“No. I am here to meet the captain. However, now that I am here, it all seems like a most terrible idea.” You gave your answer to the barkeep, voicing your concerns. You were sure the nervosity was easy to hear in your voice when you spoke. The excitement of meeting Captain Bri had completely overshadowed the reality of the situation, but you couldn’t just turn around and leave. You had to at least try.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” the barkeep chuckled slightly. “She has yet to accept a single bloke. I’d say your chances are high.”

“Well... I am here. I might as well go try.” You released a shaky sigh. Realizing you had to at least act somewhat confidently so that Bri would consider recruiting you, you pushed down your anxiousness to the best of your abilities. “She’s the woman at the table. Right?”

“Mhmm,” the bartender hummed in confirmation. “Go wow her.” She gave you a thumbs up and a smile before she departed to help a customer who was waiting further down the bar. You turned around and approached the intimidating presence by the table with determined steps.

When you stopped in front of the table, you could, by the help of the glow of the fire behind her, finally see her face. Her face. Many things were told about Bri the Righteous Beast, but none of the stories mentioned her immense beauty.

She was incredibly handsome, her disheveled blonde hair framing her intense blue eyes as they raked you up and down. And her lips. Good Gods, her lips. The small, accented scar on her upper lip scrunched as she smirked, and you wondered how she had been bestowed such a stunning ‘flaw.’

She was a vision, there was no other way to put it and you could spend so many hours just staring at her. There would not be enough time to take in her entirety, but your life would have to suffice.

Eventually, your gaze wandered to her hands. Her hands. They looked so strong, and her fingers were so long. Small, long, and deep, scars were visible on most of her fingers, her palms, and the backs of her hands, surely from learning to master dagger fidgeting and sword fighting.

The hand that had previously been playing with a dagger had stopped, and the noise of sharp metal being stabbed into wood ripped you out of your observation.

“Well. Look here. The Lady here wants to join our crew.” If Bri’s face was attractive, her voice only matched it. It was velvety smooth, so deep and so extremely intruding. Her accent only made it even more delicious, and you were sure you would never get used to it. Even if the captain’s voice and words sounded cocky, there was a mighty insecurity swimming in her eyes and her soul that did not match her outwardly persona. “I’m no knight, but I’m sure pretty ladies such as yourself should be in their castle... not down here with us peasants.”

The smirk plastered on her face was infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that it was thought-provoking and so, so attractive. Her words didn’t have the effect on you that she might’ve liked them to have, not even the comment on your appearance, as the constant eye contact only reminded you of the self-consciousness inside of her. At the same time as you wanted to tuck your tail and run, you wanted to stand your ground. Show your grit. So, you did. “I’m no Lady. But I’m sure you knew that. You were right about one thing, however. I want to join your crew, Captain. I want to sail under your command.”

The blonde raised a brow and her smirk fell. She threw her feet off the table to place them on the ground so she could lean forward in her chair. She placed her goblet on the table next to the wood-impaling dagger, her eyes scanning your face imperceptibly. “...Very well. Have you sailed before?”

“Yes, Captain.” The intense eye contact was burning you up from the inside and you wanted nothing more than to break it - if only just to breathe, but you knew you couldn’t do that if you wanted Bri to believe your words. Because of this, you remained strong. “I was Quartermaster on my last ship before the captain got drunk and sunk it during a supposed boast. I wasn’t present.”

The captain cocked her head to the side as she watched you, trying to assess whether you were telling the truth. In the years of being a pirate captain, Bri had learnt quite fast how to tell if a person was lying. From what she could tell, you weren’t.

She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. “Well, as luck would have it, I need a new Quartermaster. My last one had to be... let go. But I say that we should get you started as a crew member first. Just to see how you work. And to build trust. And gain respect from the rest of the crew. We just met, after all.” Suddenly, the blonde woman stood up from her chair to reach out a hand to shake, and oh, was she tall. At least six feet, you guessed. There was seemingly nothing about this woman that was unattractive.

Her intimidating height and appearance made it hard to resist staring at her open-mouthed but that would be considered rude, and frankly unprofessional, so you abstained. Even if it was tempting. Instead, you grabbed hold of her incredibly soft, outreached hand and shook it, your eyes never leaving hers, even when you had to change from gazing down at her to up at her.

The smile she offered was much softer than her previous demeanor had been, and it caught you off-guard. It matched her more than her earlier expression. Matched the emotions that you could see deep in her eyes and soul.

You could only hope to get to know her on a level that would allow you the pleasure of seeing and meeting the real her. Until then, you’d be the best crewmate she had ever seen.

“Welcome to the crew.” And just like it never left, the captain’s overconfident behavior had made its return. She let go of your hand and motioned with her head towards the men sitting in a booth diagonally behind her before sitting down in her chair. “Go socialize with the rest of the crew. Get to know them well. You will be spending a lot of time together. Don’t be scared... they don’t bite. But I might.” That cursed smirk again. Why did it have to look so good on her luscious lips? It was plain torture, that much was clear.

The only thing you could do was nod and go sit down with the crew, the rejected men in the other booth groaning in anger as you did. When it reached your ears, you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit smug that you had been chosen and they hadn’t. Maybe this wasn’t the most terrible idea you had built it up to be when you entered the tavern. This had been the best idea it had originally posed itself to be in your mind.

The men conversed around you, and even if you were sitting amongst them, you wouldn’t say that you were paying attention to anything they were saying. You were more focused on the woman who sat mere meters away from you with her back toward you. With the new point of view, you could observe her without her knowing it.

Her booted feet had found their way up onto the table again and the dagger was back in her hands. Her trousers were dark, in this light you couldn’t be sure but either a dark grey or dark blue. The shirt she wore was loose on her upper body, it was off-white due to years of wear and slightly unbuttoned at the top which you had registered when you gazed down at her.

There was a piece of cloth tied around her waist to ensure that her shirt didn’t blow up in the intense ocean winds. It was blue, close to the color of sapphire, but considering the sun was ruthless and had bleached it significantly, it was hard to tell.

The sword that hung by her hip was broad but seemed light enough to offer one-handed handling. A broadsword if you had to take a guess.

The rest of the evening was not as eventful as you had hoped. Bri turned away every single person that approached her except for one man.

When the tavern began closing for the night, the captain approached the table you and the rest of the crew were sitting at.

As the hours had gone on, you had grown more comfortable than you thought you would and had even had a cider or two.

The rugged exteriors of the men did not match their insides and you found them to be quite charming and funny, which was rare for most men in Westeros, but especially for pirates. You could see why Bri had recruited them to her crew.

Your chatter was cut short when Bri stopped by the table, her eyes roving over all the people who were sitting by it. When her eyes got to you, they lingered for a few seconds longer before they resumed their journey. You noticed this and you wondered if it was intentional or not. When she finished her scan, she spoke with that deep voice that made a shiver run down your spine. “The haul was scarcer than I had expected...” After she had uttered her first few words, she made direct eye contact with you and smirked, again. “But it will have to do. I’m sure our two new recruits will pull their weight.” It seemed like forever before she broke the contact, moving her gaze to the only other recruit.

The sound of a voice coming from behind Bri made her turn around and the rest of you direct your attention to the person behind the captain. “If you don’t have a room rented, it’s time to leave. We close in five minutes.” The voice came from the barkeep who was holding back the largest smile when she saw you sitting amongst the men. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she addressed Bri and the rest of her crew.

The captain nodded toward the bartender before turning to face you and the men once again. “It seems like we have reached the end of the line, gentlemen... and gentlewomen. Let us trot back to the ship and our respective beds, shall we?” Bri turned back to the bartender once again to offer words of gratitude. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The barkeep in turn responded with a curt nod and a ‘anytime.’ She then stood to the side so Bri and her crew could leave, only giving you the largest grin when you passed her by to leave the tavern. She whispered some encouraging words, well, they were short considering you had to keep moving to not fall behind.

Bri led you and the crew out into the chill night air, and it was needed because the second you had stood up you had felt the tipsiness from the strong cider. The cool air would help in sobering you up, and if it didn’t, you were sure the salty ocean air would when you departed out to sea the next day.

The walk along the docked boats in the Honeywine was longer than you had expected it to be, but when you finally reached the ship at the far end, you were more than ready to call it a day.

The captain stopped right before the docked ship and let the rest of the crew board but stopped you and the other recruit. “This is The Bloody Sapphire. She will be your home for the rest of your life until you die or desert. You better not because if you do desert, I will hunt you down and kill you. If you treat her well and with respect, she will return the favor. Your beds are below deck, make yourselves comfortable. Tomorrow, we make way to Lannisport to resupply. They are not very friendly so put your best innocent face on for our visit. If you need me, my cabin is underneath the quarterdeck, but do not wake me unless there is a fire, we are sinking, someone is attacking us, or if someone is dying. Savvy?”

You and the man looked at each other before you looked at Bri again and nodded. Both of you responded in unison, making the captain laugh slightly. “Savvy.”

“Good. Then you may board.” The captain stepped aside to allow you both to step aboard, but before you could step a single foot on the wooden deck, Bri stopped you with a hand hovering in front of your sternum whilst she allowed the other recruit to step aboard and you watched him disappear below deck.

You looked at her with a puzzled expression as your mind ran through the possible reasons for her stopping you. What could she possibly say that the other guy couldn’t hear? Then again, she had her reasons, and you shouldn’t question her. So, instead of voicing your confusion, you remained silent as you waited for her to speak.

“I never caught your name. I suppose my mind was distracted and I completely forgot to ask.” Bri dropped the hand that had been hovering in front of your sternum and it came to rest on the pommel of her sword. Her voice was much softer than it had previously been when she had addressed you and your fellow recruit, and you wondered why that was.

What you didn’t know was that against her better judgement, the captain’s brain had somehow convinced itself that you were a safe space. Even if she had only met you a handful of hours ago. She was drawn towards you.

When you told her your name, she repeated it and the way it sounded rolling of her tongue with her accent was orgasmic. Never had it sounded so beautiful as it did when spoken by her. In return, she introduced herself to you, not that she needed to, you already knew her name. But you guessed that it was an act of honor. “Bri of Tarth.”

“The Sapphire Isle? Is that where the name for your ship comes from... and your waist fabric?” Learning where she came from spiked your curiosity, and you asked more questions than you probably should have, considering she enjoyed her privacy. What you weren’t expecting, and that was a pleasant surprise, was that she answered.

“Indeed. The ship's name is... a long story.” Bri looked down at the fabric around her waist and smiled before she looked back up at you again. “Well spotted. It is indeed sapphire blue... or it used to be, at least. It is from Tarth, I wanted to have something on me that would remind me of my old home. This piece of fabric has been with me since the beginning of my seafarer career. I’m surprised it hasn’t ripped yet.”

You observed the fabric tied around her waist, excluding dirt stains from years of usage, the occasional blood spatter from seeing many battles, and the bleach from the sun, it looked strong. “I’d say it won’t rip for a while... looks like good material was used. Whatever it was intended for must’ve been important, the fabric looks expensive.” You looked up at Bri again and met her eyes. A flash of what looked like sorrow was briefly displayed in her eyes and you realized that your nice, late-night, alone chat was over.

Her demeanor changed in the blink of an eye - as if she had mastered switching her expression and behavior. Her tone switched from gentle and tender to overweening, but her eyes never left the previous persona. “Sorry for holding you up. Off you go.”

You wanted nothing more than to stay, to protest, to say that you wanted nothing more than to stay here all night and converse with her, but your feet worked against the will of your brain and before you knew it you had stepped aboard the ship and was climbing down the stairs that led below deck, leaving Bri standing behind.

She boarded the ship after a few seconds and retired back to her quarters where she proceeded to think of you until she fell asleep. You fell asleep thinking about her, her intense blue eyes and her blonde hair stayed on your mind until you fell into slumber next to the rest of the crew.

------

The weeks that passed after you were integrated into Captain Bri’s crew went by lightning fast. You and the recruit, who you had learnt was named Will, had worked hard and had earned both the respect of the rest of the crew and your captain.

After your conversation on the dock, you had managed to get a private chat with the tall blonde five times. The interactions were cut short by various interruptions or her withdrawing from the discussion.

It was like there was some sort of conflict inside of her and she couldn’t decide which side to listen to. It was heartbreaking to watch.

After a month of sailing with Bri and her crew, you began climbing the ranks. It started with a simple suggestion that ended up working well in everyone’s favor and before you knew it, you had been voted for and promoted to first mate. The new title didn’t do much in terms of giving you more one on one time with the captain, but it was a step towards it.

After three months of being aboard The Bloody Sapphire, a chaotic boarding made it clear that the ship clearly needed a Quartermaster and the crew voted for you, considering your experience. Bri could not complain because it meant she would be able to see you more often. You were always standing by her side when she was standing by the wheel, after all.

This new rank did earn you the privilege of having many alone talks with Bri as she steered the ship. Until she, of course, left for her chambers and left you to take over for her. The shortness of the interactions meant you didn’t learn that much about her that you didn’t already know, and it was starting to gnaw.

That was until you were standing by her side by the wheel on a very sunny fall afternoon and the men started singing. The song was about some scorned woman killing a man who betrayed her and the woman by his side.

It took you until the middle of the shanty to realize that it matched some of the things you knew about Bri. You turned your head to look at her where she stood, her gaze fixed dead ahead. “Is this shanty about you?”

The captain sighed and the noise of it disappeared into the chilly early Autumn air. She was silent for a few moments until she nodded. “It is. The story went down quite differently, however.” Bri’s gaze never wavered, her eyes never leaving the blue water. “I didn’t sneak aboard a ship for revenge. I snuck aboard a ship because I wanted to get away. The fact that the person who betrayed me was on the ship as well was only a bonus. She just disappeared, and I found out why when I saw her walk with her new lover. I didn’t kill them. Just to make that clear.”

You listened to Bri’s story but completely stopped breathing once she so casually mentioned that the woman was her former somewhat lover. Even if it caught you completely off-guard, you were able to listen to the rest of her retelling.

This was the most you had learnt about her in one single conversation, and it made you mightily happy. You so desperately wanted to ask more questions, about why she wanted to get away, who did kill the two lovebirds, but you didn’t want her to escape back to her quarters again.

Even if you wanted to get to know her even more when the opportunity had presented itself and she seemed to be open to sharing, you would rather enjoy her presence in silence over not being in her proximity at all. Meaning you only said something to let her know that you had listened and acknowledged her sharing but kept your mouth shut to not let anything slip out. “I see.”

You stood in silence for a while until Bri opened her mouth to say something but was inevitably disrupted by Will who had shown up at the captain’s side in the blink of an eye to explain that they needed to dock somewhere to resupply.

After the blonde woman had dismissed him, she looked over to you and within seconds you had moved to the sea map to lay a new course towards a pirate-friendly port.

When you returned to the helm, Bri left for her quarters again. Your absence had surely led to her conflicting with herself again and had probably concluded that she had shared too much with you. You had no idea what she did in her quarters all those hours, but you didn’t want to ask because you wanted to offer her privacy. At least there was some progress.

------

Six months after learning that Bri had a shanty written about her, you had been able to snag her for many more chats and each one lasted longer than the one before.

You learnt more and more about her in every day that passed and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were so in love with her. You had known it about one month after sailing with her, but now, you were sure. Her looks combined with her gentle and loving personality made it so easy to fall for her. You just had to make sure that you did not hurt yourself on the way down, but it was a bit too late for that.

You were more than certain that she didn’t feel the same way, even if she behaved so differently around you than she did around the rest of the crew. However, what you didn’t know, was that Bri was very much attracted to and interested in you and all that you were. Having you next to her every day was one of her greatest privileges and she reveled in your proximity.

Seeing your face every single morning made her happier than any loot ever could, and she quickly found herself stumbling before she eventually fell for you. Yet, she couldn’t see how anyone could ever find her attractive, less love her. So, she didn’t allow herself to hope that you would feel the same about her and subjected herself to a life of yearning.

It would have remained hidden until the day you both died - if it weren’t for a cold winter evening.

The Bloody Sapphire had dropped anchor not that far away from Tarth, and the Sapphire Isle was visible from the deck. The ship was cleverly hidden with its sails and flag lowered to avoid a surprise attack should it be stumbled upon.

You were just about to retire to bed when you spotted Bri standing by the railing, looking out over the ocean in the direction of Tarth.

Slowly, you approached her and stopped next to her, looking out over the Sapphire Isle yourself. After so many of your conversations and her sharing so much, you felt confident enough to pose a query after you had stood in stillness for a few minutes. “Do you miss it? Tarth, I mean.”

Bri leaned against the railing of the ship as she stared at the silhouette of Tarth. Her silences before her answers had become commonplace and you had gotten used to them at this point.

As you patiently awaited her response, you shifted your gaze from the darkened Sapphire Isle to the woman standing next to you. You really couldn’t help yourself when she looked so pretty in the glow of the torch.

The fire cast a shadow over her face - her side profile looked even more angelic in this light, and you could only wish that you would be able to see her this close and like this so many more times in your life.

When she finally replied, she ripped you out of your appreciation for her features and you began focusing your attention on her voice as well. “Sometimes. Though it’s very rare. The people I have met on my journey and my crew have treated me so much better than anyone on that island ever did. They have never insulted me. Not once. Not even when they learnt that I was a woman. I never wish to go back there. This is my new family.”

She was so... vulnerable and it made you shocked. Sure, she had shared small things about herself in your talks but never something this deep. You couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste again. “When they learnt you were a woman? May I inquire in what it is that you mean, Captain?”

Bri gazed at the Isle where she had grown up and eventually left as she told her story. It almost felt ironic in a way. Like it was coming full circle. Speaking about something she had never uttered out loud as she was close to and looking at Tarth. The island where the anecdote began.

“When I first snuck aboard a ship that docked by Tarth, I told everyone that my name was Bri, and I even darkened my voice so they would believe that I was a man. When they eventually learnt I was a woman, they welcomed me with open arms instead of shunning me and calling me names. It was such a new approach and reaction. I’ve never been so happy.” Towards the end of her story, the blonde was smiling fondly as she thought back to how welcomed she had felt by a band of outlaws when she couldn’t even get the smallest amount of kindness on Tarth.

Your gaze never left the captain’s pretty face. You could never get used to how beautiful she looked, and you simply could not believe how other people could not find her as attractive as you did. She was the most gorgeous person you had ever laid your eyes on in your entire life.

Despite your mind coming up with all sorts of scenarios that would surely be deemed inappropriate should someone hear them, you still managed to ask a follow-up question to Bri’s tale without slipping anything that would let the blonde woman know that something completely different was going on in your head. “So... Bri is not your real name?”

The captain shook her head before she responded. “No. No one knows my real name. The old band I joined and my current crew stated that to them, my old name does not matter. To them, my name is Bri. Though, I have nothing against my real name. I just prefer to have the rest of the world know me as it, so they get confused when they see that I am a woman.” Bri let out a small chuckle at the end of her explanation. Almost like she was thinking back to the different reactions she had gotten from various captain’s ships that she had boarded. “Except you seem to have known that I was not a man from the beginning based on your reaction when you first saw me...”

“You are a legend... I had to know more about you. There was not a lot to learn about you from the people I managed to find. I only found out about your womanhood through a friend who works somewhere where tight lips go to blab. She also sees many things. Though, finding out that you were a woman only made me want to sail with you even more... I... May I pry?” Even if Bri seemed to be more comfortable with sharing and answering your queries, you knew that she had a habit of removing herself from the discussion when it was too much, and you did not wish to take her openness for granted. She had done nothing but treat you with respect, so you did the obvious thing and returned the favor. You had no interest in upsetting her when she was so exposed.

“I see... Yes.” Her answer to your question was fast and equally as quick as she had responded, she turned her head to look at you who was intently admiring her. With her now facing you, you could see her breathtaking blue eyes that sparkled so bewitchingly in the light from the torch just meters away from you both.

“What is your real name?” The inquiry was a whisper as your eyes scanned her face for any sign of the overweening personality you had gotten used to usually signaling the end of your conversations. It never came. The gentle and careful personality remained. The personality you assumed was the real her.

Bri opened her mouth to answer your query but stopped when a noise sounded from below deck signaling that one of the crewmates was still awake. The captain turned her head to look at the hatch leading down and waited for someone to pop their head up, but that never happened.

Even if it was still quiet below deck, she couldn’t risk someone eavesdropping on the conversation considering her behavior was completely opposite from how she usually acted. Before she spoke, she turned her head back to look at you. “We shouldn’t do this here. Join me in my quarters?”

The question caught you by surprise. Never had you been inside of her quarters before and it was something you could never have dreamt of and now she was extending an invitation. At first, you were unsure if you had heard her correctly but as she looked at you expectantly, you knew you had heard her right.

You almost screamed your answer, ‘Gods, yes please!’ but that might be seen as a little bit too enthusiastic and would surely weird Bri out. What came out was more composed and calmer - not a single trace of the previous excitement. You were surprised that your voice came out without a single shake, tremor, or stutter considering the storm that was going on inside of your head. “Sure, Captain. If you’d have me.”

Your answer made Bri smile the smallest bit. She found it endearing. She found you endearing. She spun on her heels and started for the door that led to her cabin, and you followed close behind.

------

Part two can be found here!

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth x reader

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humanpurposes · 11 months

Text

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part v, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // She's the first one that I see

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, questionable relationships, you know the drill, also mentions of terminal illness.

Words: 9300

A/n: Aemond's pov here we gooo. This part gets its own header coz vibes. Also available to read on AO3.

Another summer brought another two months at Dragonstone.

The relief Aemond felt clambering out of his mother’s Volvo and into the coastal breeze was immeasurable. Helaena got the front seat, as always, which left the three boys to be packed into the backseat for two hours, in the middle of a June heatwave.

He somewhat resented Daemon and Laena’s absence this year. Generally they alternated summers between Dragonstone and Pentos with the Velaryons. It was a shame, his uncle often brought some much needed tension to family holidays, the entertaining kind as opposed to the depressing kind, and Baela and Rhaena were by far the most tolerable of the younger family members.

Viserys hadn’t arrived yet. He had some work things to catch up on and would drive down later, which just left the Strongs. Alicent had received a call from Rhaenyra while they were in the car to say they’d be a few hours behind them. Thank the Gods. At least it gave them a few hours of peace.

Dragonstone had originally been built as a castle, preserved over the centuries as a place for pleasure rather than a defensive keep. It had a gatehouse, turrets, arrowslits, parapets and ivy sprawling over the outer walls that turned red in the autumn. It looked idyllic, like a castle out of a fairytale.

After bringing his bag up to his room there was only one place Aemond wanted to be.

His favourite part of coming back to Dragonstone were the gardens, sprawling walks of greenery, sweet-smelling rose bushes and sandstone archways. If the weather was right, he could convince himself he was in some remote corner of an Italian manor house.

One of the gravel paths led down to the pool, overlooked by a patio from the back of the main house. It was a blissful little oasis, when he could have it to himself, of crystal clear water, tall hedges and blue and orange tiles laid out in intricate patterns.

He had his trunks on already and left his t-shirt and shorts on a sun lounger before he slipped into the water. The cold was a welcome reprieve, especially when he dunked his head under and pushed off from the side, cutting through the water with powerful strokes.

It had been a while since he’d had time for swimming and he felt slightly irritated at the ache in his arms from the unfamiliar movements. To be fair to himself, he hadn’t made time for any hobbies over the last few weeks on account of his exams, and it had paid off at least. He still had a few weeks until he would get his results but he knew he would do well.

As far as he was concerned, his future was set. He would get four A*s, then in September he’d be off to Oldtown to start university. In three years, he would graduate with a first and come back to King’s Landing to start at Targ Corp, despite his grandfather’s attempts to convince him to consider a career at Beacon, the Hightower family business. Otto had a vision that one day, his grandsons would run two of the largest companies in Westeros, Aegon at Targ Corp and Aemond at Beacon.

Although the offer of a generous salary and an internship during his studies had sounded tempting, it was a question of pride more than anything. The silver hair should have been evidence enough; Aemond was a Targaryen before he was a Hightower.

Despite his determination to live up to the family name, he had come to resent these summers at their ancestral home. The house and the gardens were beautiful, and he loved being so close to the isolated beach below the hill the house was set on, but he could think of no worse fate than having to spend ten weeks with his insufferable sister, their father’s pride and joy, her idiotic husband and their three sons.

He ran his hands over his face as he emerged on the other side of the pool, his left palm skimming over the scar on the side of his face. It was easy to forget it was there sometimes, until he’d catch someone frowning at it.

Rhaenyra was lucky his mother hadn’t pressed charges and publically issued a statement that the whole thing had been a “tragic accident”. Later he learnt Alicent had been holding it over Rhaenyra’s head ever since, waiting for a time when she’d need the leverage.

Ten weeks with the Strongs was all that stood between him and the rest of his life, some sick test of patience.

He wasn’t alone for long before he spotted Aegon and Daeron at the outlook up at the house. They sprinted out of view and soon came hurtling down the steps to the pool in their trunks. They leapt in, disturbing Aemond’s laps but he reluctantly let himself be happy that the three of them were in the same place for once.

Aegon had just finished a degree in criminal psychology. Alicent and Otto had had to practically buy him a place at KLU. How he had managed to pass was a mystery to everyone, Aemond wondered if he had pulled it together at the last minute purely out of spite. He had already been living in a flat in central with a few of his friends for the last two years. Helaena said he rarely visited the house.

Aemond and Daeron had barely been back from Duskendale before they were all in the car to Dragonstone. He hadn’t minded boarding school, in some ways it made him appreciate the times he got to be at home, and it meant he didn’t have to see his father on a daily basis or watch his mother drive herself insane with her self-imposed workload. Again, Helaena gave him updates on that. He supposed it would make the move to Oldtown less jarring.

For now he laughed as Aegon challenged them to swimming races and tackled Daeron when he lost. The oldest Targaryen brother was surprisingly strong for his shorter stature. Daeron towered over him but he was wiry, easy for Aegon to sling him over his shoulder.

They were making such a scene in the water that Aemond didn’t notice his mother until she shouted Aegon’s name from the bottom of the steps. “Put your brother down and get changed, seven hells!”

Aegon tossed Daeron’s legs over his head, sending him flopping unceremoniously into the pool. “What’s the rush?”

“Rhaenyra and Harwin are only half an hour away!” Alicent shrieked, as if this was something they should have cared about. “And they’re bringing a guest, so I want you all presentable and ready for dinner before they arrive.”

Daeron was starting to climb up the ladder, so Aemond pressed his palms to the edge of the pool and pushed himself out.

“What guest?” he asked, reaching for his towel from one of the sun loungers.

Harwin’s niece.

She’d been a flower girl at Harwin and Rhaenyra’s wedding, but he only knew that from the photographs. He didn’t remember the last time he must have seen her, probably some family gathering with the Strongs, before Luke slashed a knife in his face and they stopped seeing them as often.

Aegon seemed eager for “fresh meat” as they marched back up to the house.

Daeron was more sceptical and shot Aemond a concerned frown. “Just what we need, another Strong kid.”

After a quick shower, Aemond changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of dark green cargo trousers, and made his way through the maze of hallways and ornate staircases. He found his parents in the reception hall, a spacious room located at the front of the house, leading off from the entrance hall, going through to the dining room on one side and the drawing room from the other. It was where they usually lingered when the arrival of a guest was imminent.

Most of the visitors to Dragonstone considered this to be the most impressive room in the house, with its tall stained glass windows, silver chandelier, walnut panelling and carved columns supporting a gallery on the first floor.

The smell of smoke and charred wood drifted from the fireplace, mingling with the musk of antique velvet sofas. Alicent was torn between typing something on her phone and discussing some arrangement with their head of security, a deceptively young looking man with black hair named Criston Cole.

Evidently Viserys had arrived. He was sitting in a red armchair, taking small sips of a glass of whisky. He looked up when he heard footsteps against the floor, and offered his son a vague nod.

Helaena and Daeron weren’t far behind Aemond, and Aegon was of course the last to make it down. He insisted it was “perfect timing,” because the moment he walked into the room, Cole received a call from the front gate.

Daeron perched on the windowsill and jittering like a puppy as a black escalade pulled up before the gatehouse.

Within minutes Viserys was throwing his arms around his favourite child. Aemond cast a cold glare over Harwin, Jace, Luke and little Joffrey, clinging to his father’s hand with his thumb in his mouth. The sixth guest followed behind them.

Her hair was pulled away from her face, wide eyes sweeping curiously over the people, the paintings on the walls and the antiques in glass cabinets. The beginning of a smile spread across her lips, but her face fell when her eyes met his.

Aemond sucked his teeth into his lips. He was used to people looking at him like that, or averting their gaze altogether. He could only imagine what Jace and Luke might have told her about their cruel uncle and his horrible scar.

At dinner she sat on the other end of the table from him, between Harwin and Jace. She was a few years older than her cousins but they all seemed to get on well, joking and smiling at each other. It made Aemond’s blood boil.

Daeron made a point of introducing himself to her but he suspected this show of hospitality was mostly because she was pretty.

She really was pretty though, and quiet, but not necessarily in a nervous way. She seemed content to listen, smiling vaguely at the things people said, feeling no need to fill the silences. When she did smile– properly smile– it was wide, bright and unashamed.

He overheard her mention an interest in history as dessert was brought out, asking Rhaenyra and Viserys all sorts of questions about Dragonstone’s origins and architecture. He thought of a few books in the library he could recommend but dismissed the idea. When Aegon suggested giving her a tour of the house he felt his grip on his fork tighten.

Dragonstone was large enough that even with most of the family there it was easy to feel alone, and Aemond spent the first few days of their stay doing exactly that. In the mornings he’d go for a run, then head down to either the pool or the beach for a quick swim. He had his reading list for uni already and was making his way through a textbook on political philosophy, which he read either in the library or a quiet corner of the garden.

Daeron and Aegon were far better at being civil with Jace and Luke than he was, and she seemed happy to tag along with their antics. Aemond avoided them where he could.

One afternoon he decided to take his textbook to the patio at the back of the house, and winced at the shrieks of laughter coming from the pool. He was going to head back inside but found himself stepping towards the balustrade, looking over the greenery to the unnaturally blue water.

She was sitting on the edge of the pool in a red swimsuit, with her legs in the water. Even from so far away he could make out the details of her smile, her teeth, the roundness of her cheeks and the way she squinted her eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, until a gentle voice pulled him from his trance.

“Aemond?”

His heart almost stopped and he spun around immediately. An awful feeling sank into his chest, like he’d done something wrong.

Helaena was standing in the doorway, in a pale blue sundress and purple sandals. “Me and mum were going to drive into the village, if you’d like to come?”

Maybe some time away from the house would do him good. He nodded and uttered a quiet “yes.”

She came onto her tiptoes, trying to peer past his shoulder, but from where she was standing she wouldn’t have been able to see what he was looking at. Maybe she didn’t need to see. Another few howls of laughter drifted up to the patio, and a cry of “Aegon, you bastard!”

Helaena sighed and smiled. He left his book on a table in the entrance hall and followed his sister out to the gatehouse where Alicent was already waiting in the Volvo.

The village was just over a ten minute drive away from the house. Aemond leaned his head against the window in the backseat, feeling content in the blur of vibrant greens and blues. He could have fallen asleep to the hum of the air con and the voices of his mother and sister.

Until he heard her name.

“What?” he mumbled, absentmindedly, shifting himself in the seat and catching Helaena’s eye through her overhead mirror.

“She’s starting her A Levels in September,” Alicent said. “Politics, philosophy and history, same as you.”

He had also taken an extra class in High Valyrian, but he wasn’t going to hold it against her.

“You’d get on I think,” Helaena added, pushing her John Lennon-esque sunglasses on top of her head. He could see she was smirking.

Aemond huffed and went back to staring out the window at the fields, the sky, the sea and the wildflowers growing at the side of the road. He could say he didn’t care about their guest but it would have been a lie. He couldn’t get that red swimsuit out of his head.

Eventually he started agreeing to the occasional beach trip or tennis match. Turns out he quite enjoyed spending time with his nephews when he could beat them at something. And it meant he could see her more often.

There were these odd moments, when he’d catch her staring at him over breakfast or by the pool, that got his hopes up a little, only for her to quickly look away and find someone to fawn over, usually Aegon or one of her cousins. But then she’d find him in the garden and ask about the book he was reading, or sit next to him when they lit a campfire on the beach, just brushing her leg against his.

They could be confusing but he liked those moments. Every day he woke up ectatic that he would get to see her, and that they might talk about politics or philosophy or a shared love for Daphne du Maurier or the Great Gatsby.

He needed her alone, just once.

He got the chance on the last weekend of July. Alicent, Rhaenyra and Helaena had gone to Rosby for the day, while Harwin had been talking about a trip to Dragonstone harbour to go fishing, something Daeron sounded rather enthusiastic about. Leaving him, Aegon and Viserys at the house.

After a late breakfast, Aemond went up to the library with the next book on his reading list, An Introduction to Essosi Regionalism. He was rather taken aback to see her sitting at the writing desk by the window. He had assumed she had gone to the harbour with the others.

In a sudden and awkward motion she stood and turned to face him, with wide eyes and a small smile.

“Sorry,” she said, pointing at the desk, “did you want to–”

“No.” He instantly regretted how short and final he sounded.

Her eyes dipped and he realised he was clutching his book far too tightly.

“I was only looking really,” she said, reaching back for her book, a biography of Queen Alysanne.

“You like history,” he said, intending it to be a question but it sounded more like a statement.

She smiled again, at his mistake, he guessed. “Yeah, it’s incredible getting to spend so much time here, it’s a beautiful house.”

He stepped forward to place his book on the desk behind her, noticing the sweet citrusy scent of her perfume and the way she tensed up when he came too close.

“I could show you around, if you’d like? I mean, you’ve already been here long enough and you’ve probably seen most of it by now–”

It was only when she put a hand on his shoulder did he realise his head had dropped down to the floor.

“I’d love to,” she said.

Suddenly his chest felt a little lighter.

He showed her his favourite parts of the house, except the library which she had already seen, obviously. She had so many questions, noticed every detail and traced her fingertips along the ancient stone walls with a look of wonder that made his heart flutter.

Then they came to the long gallery overlooking the reception hall. He pointed out the fan vaulted ceiling detailed with gold and the line of portraits of hundreds of years of Targaryen history, monarchs and more recent family members. She was especially fascinated with a portrait of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne with children. She could put a name and a story to every face.

She turned her head towards him and her breath hitched when she realised he was looking at her. His first instinct was to back away and apologise, but she didn’t move or say anything, just looked up at him with those pretty eyes.

He wondered if he should kiss her. He’d never tried to kiss someone before. It should have been simple enough but it felt so daunting. What if he did it wrong? What if she didn’t want him to?

He saw her eyes flicker to his scar, and felt like he understood.

“Do you want to look at the old solar?” he asked, already walking towards the north door at the end of the gallery.

Behind him he heard her mutter a quiet “yeah.”

He rushed through the last few rooms. He could hardly catch his breath or think beyond the choking feeling in his throat or how hot the house seemed all of a sudden.

“Do you want to go outside?” she asked when he suggested going to the Maegor suite.

He nodded, and followed her down to the entrance hall, where they ran into Aegon. He was in trunks and an unbuttoned shirt to show off the tan on his abs.

He glanced between them with a strange look in his eye. “Beach?”

“Sounds good!” she said with a bright smile. “I just need to get some stuff from my room.”

Aegon grinned at her, then at his brother.

“I’m good, thanks,” Aemond grumbled, and went to spend the rest of the day sulking in his room.

Something was different about her after that. She stopped asking so many questions and rather than smile at him when they passed each other in the hallways she sighed and put her head down.

He really didn’t have much experience with these kinds of things, and he sure in seven hells wasn’t going to ask Aegon for advice.

He wished there was something he could do, but every time he thought about trying to talk to her he pictured her eyes on his scar and decided he’d rather spare her the trouble.

August went by far too quickly and then she was gone.

His time at the University of Oldtown brought some interesting experiences.

People seemed to respect him in a way he wasn’t used to. His lecturers complimented his work and his commitment to his studies. His classmates listened to him when he spoke in seminars, asked for his opinions on current affairs and invited him to lunches and parties.

He felt like a novelty in Oldtown, people wanted to befriend him, be seen with him, earn his approval. He felt shallow for admitting it, but the newfound attention felt good.

When he went back to King’s Landing that first summer, everyone said he was different. He’d always been interested in sports but he’d committed to a gym routine, shed some of the baby fat and toned out nicely. He traded the trackies and sports trainers for black shirts and leather jackets, got his ears pierced, drank whisky and smoked cigarettes on nights out.

And it turned out he wasn’t as hideous as he thought he was, in fact more often than not, the scar worked in his favour when it came to flirting.

After graduating he spent the summer in Oldtown, on an internship at Beacon, until Alicent told him she needed him in King’s Landing. She needed a contender of her own to pose as Viserys’ successor against Rhaenyra, and it was obvious neither Aegon or Helaena were going to live up to her expectations. So he did as he was told and moved back home, just in time for everything to start going wrong.

Viserys made his will. Rhaenyra was set to inherit Targ Corp and just about everything else he owned, including Dragonstone. Fucking typical. She had always been his golden child, all that was left of his beloved first wife. His mother always said he never got over Aemma. Singling out Rhaenyra was his way of making it up to her.

But Alicent had been the one helping Viserys run Targ Corp for twenty years, while Rhaenyra’s only real talent was her ability to get whatever she wanted out of their father.

If Rhaenyra were to succeed Viserys, everything his mother had worked for would be for nothing, but Aemond could be the one to change that. He could bring Targ Corp to new heights and live up to the legacy of the Targaryen name. All he needed was for Viserys to give him that chance.

Alicent had been in talks with Borros Baratheon of Storm’s End, an energy company based in the Stormlands. A deal with them would open Targ Corp to a whole new industry, and maybe then Viserys would recognise the lapse in judgement.

The Storm’s End contract was everything and Alicent had trusted Aemond to see it through. Only it fell apart in his hands. One seemingly minor mistake and Baratheon was out.

Alicent was devastated and it killed him. The late nights and weekends working in the office when she should have been with her children, the constant spite and security from the corporate world, the tabloid news stories that called her a “gold digger,” and the years she spent chasing her husband’s approval had all been for nothing.

She never said it, but Aemond knew she blamed him.

It had been a shitty three months and by December he was exhausted. Daeron was back from Duskendale, Aegon was staying for a few weeks, and Helaena was adamant that they were going to have an enjoyable Christmas. She covered the house in fairy lights and put up a tree in the living room, decorated with colourful baubles that really had nothing to do with Christmas; rainbows, butterflies and bees.

The other three agreed to indulge her. Aegon suddenly became an expert at Christmas cocktails, Daeron was in a baking frenzy and Aemond put his old piano lessons to good use. He sat at the baby grand in the hallway for the first time in forever and played some old hymns mum used to make them sing. Until Aegon put the chords for Fairytale of New York in front of him, which he agreed was a much better song.

Alicent came in from the office on the 24th, rain soaked through her coat and her eyes red. She’d had a call from Lyonel Strong.

Harwin was in the hospital. Pancreatic cancer. He’d been ignoring the symptoms for years apparently, and by the time Rhaneyra made him get a diagnosis it was too late.

Nothing was an isolated issue. Mum, dad, Rhaenyra, work… everything fed off each other in a single spiral of chaos and grief.

He needed the space, he decided at a fundraiser on New Years Eve. He and Viserys had arrived together but they didn’t so much as make eye contact the entire night. Rhaenyra was understandably inconsolable, mum had refused to go, Helaena wasn’t cut out for these kinds of events and Daeron was studying for mock exams. He at least found solace in the knowledge that he was preferable to Aegon.

A woman with black hair caught his attention. She moved effortlessly throughout the room, martini in hand, which she sipped through dark red lips as she struck up conversations with the other attendees. Did she realise she was targeting the richest people in the room? Probably. She blended in well, in a black slip dress and a pearl necklace, but there was something else, glaring him right in the face.

She was familiar, but he couldn’t place where he might have seen her before.

She smirked when she realised he was staring at her. After ordering herself another drink she waltzed over to him and introduced herself as “Alys Rivers.”

He must have let a little of his shock show on his face, because she smirked again.

Alys Rivers. Harwin’s cousin. The woman with the pretty daughter who’d spent a summer at Dragonstone.

They chatted for hours, she was very curious to hear about the company politics at Targ Corp, the few months he’d been working there and the whole debacle with the Storm’s End contract. She told him about herself too. She worked for Harrenhal PR, alongside her brothers, but was looking to start her own company.

He asked about Harwin.

That was the only time her perfect persona faltered, just for a moment, but then she took a sip of her drink and she was back to business. She said she was doing alright. It was a shock, he was like a brother to her, and she was trying to make the most of the moments she had left with him.

“It makes you appreciate what you have,” she said. They had found a table in a corner of the bar, ordering too many cocktails. She sighed heavily and put her hand on her chest, over her heart, “I’m so lucky I’ve got my darling girl.”

He didn’t even need to ask before she started telling him more. She was in her second year of studying history at KLU, a bright student, a sweet and serious girl.

She said Harwin adored her, always had, even once things got serious with Rhaenyra and he started having kids of his own.

“Poor thing,” he said, “this must all be so hard on her.”

“She’s like me,” Alys insisted, finishing off another martini. Her words were starting to slur, but even when she was drunk she did it gracefully. “Nothing phases her.”

He could still remember the smell of her perfume, sweet and citrusy.

Alys’s perfume was dark, bitter and boozy. When he kissed her the taste of her martinis burned on his tongue. Vodka. He was more of a gin man.

Generally he tried to avoid one night stands, but it didn’t take much convincing before he found himself in her hotel room.

He spent the entire night on his back while she edged him relentlessly, with her hands and her mouth, before she finally rode him, whispering praises in his ear as she did it.

He decided it would be bad manners not to text her, so the following Friday night, they went to a steakhouse on Conquest street. It felt more like a business meeting than a date, they talked more about Targ Corp and her plans for her own PR firm. She had the ambition and industry knowledge, but needed the strategy and the connections to make it work.

“You and I could be a match made in heaven,” he said.

She paused midway through a sip of red wine, and raised her eyebrow ever so slightly. “I don’t usually go for younger men,” she said, “but you’re smart and uncomplicated. I think we could work something out.”

The line between business and pleasure was non-existent. They looked over contracts and business plans over coffee, accompanied each other to conferences and fucked in hotel rooms. She was straightforward, blunt at times but he found it impressive and refreshing. He never had to guess what she was thinking because she didn’t see the point in trying to hide behind niceties. Every time he complimented her confidence she said it was “a consequence of age.”

Things moved faster than he realised. Suddenly winter was turning into spring and Alys asked him to work for Rivers PR full time.

He found the wherewithal to tell Alicent and Viserys on a rare occasion that his father actually bothered to eat with them. He tried to be as casual as he could about his sabbatical from Targ Corp. It ended with an explosive row over the dinner table, leaving both Helaena and his mother in tears. Viserys was still shouting from the hallway as he packed an overnight bag and stormed out to his car.

He had to call three times before Aegon finally picked up. “Good for you!” his brother cheered down the end of the phone. “Who would have thought you’d end up like this though? Six months ago you were mum’s favourite son.”

“She just kept telling me I was selfish,” Aemond said, first the Storm’s End contract and now this. “And apparently Rhaenyra’s been up in arms about Alys branching off from Harrenhal, especially with everything that’s going on with Harwin.”

“Will you go to hers then?”

He was already heading towards central. “That’s why I called, I need somewhere to stay, I thought you could put me up for a bit.”

Aegon drew out an exaggerated “uhh,” and Aemond hung up, not in the mood to listen to some long winded excuse.

He gripped the steering wheel as he came to a junction and a sign for Queen’s Park. So much for being “uncomplicated.”

Alys was in a silk robe when she opened the door. “Mummy and daddy kicked you out?” she asked with a pouty frown.

He insisted he had left of his own accord.

It was a beautiful terraced house, plaster fronted, overlooking the park. The interior was understated and elegant, dark wood floors, white walls and bursts of muted greens.

It was quiet too, and the only light came from the kitchen.

“Where’s–”

“She’s out with a few friends,” Alys said.

He followed her through to the kitchen, where she poured out two glasses of wine and he told her everything.

By the time he was done she had finished her glass. She looked into it, like she was surprised to see that it was empty. He hadn’t touched his.

“Are you planning on staying for long?” she asked.

For a moment he felt stupid for coming to her at all. He couldn’t quite figure out what they were to each other, and suddenly he was showing up on her doorstep and using her like a therapist.

“I called Aegon first but I think he’s busy. I can be gone in the morning if you want.”

She took hold of his shoulder, stroking her thumb over the fabric of his shirt. “You can stay as long as you need to.”

He looked at her. He was used to her expression being so smug and severe, but she looked gentle now, her eyes wide and full of pity. When he took a shallow breath he realised she was wearing the same, dark perfume from New Years.

He kissed her slowly, nudging his nose against hers and slipping a hand around her waist to pull her in closer.

She chuckled softly as she pulled away. “I’ll be off early in the morning. Take some time if you need to, sort something out with Aegon or…”

“Right,” he said, swallowing down the lingering taste of red wine from her lips.

They slept in her bed, with their backs to each other.

When he woke in the morning Alys was gone. He checked the time on his phone, 8am, and he had a text from her: Help yourself to coffee. Let me know what your plan is.

He threw on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before he headed downstairs. He quickly figured out his way around the expensive coffee machine and settled on a stool at the island with a cup of black coffee.

His hands were restless, tapping against the coffee cup and the counter top.

She was in the same house as him, probably sound asleep upstairs, though he hadn’t heard anyone come in during the night. Did she know he was here? She must have seen the car outside, but she wouldn’t know it was his.

He’d hardly even considered the possibility of seeing her again until now, but he hadn’t expected things with to Alys to go this far.

He looked down at his phone. Maybe staying with Alys wasn’t such a good idea. He started typing out a text to Aegon when he heard the door to the kitchen open.

“Hello again.”

She stood in the doorway, squinting her eyes at him, hair loose and tousled, in nothing but an overused Black Sabbath t-shirt that covered the tops of her thighs. She looked a little dishevelled and utterly perfect.

“Hi,” Aemond said, putting his phone down and reaching for his cup. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I got a text from mum. She said she had a guest and I was free to ignore him or kick him out.”

“Have you decided which?”

She huffed a laugh and there was that smile again, though not as wide as it had been that summer. “I felt like being nosy,” she said.

She moved towards the sink and filled a glass of water, which she finished in one go, with a sound of satisfaction. She drew the tip of her tongue between her lips and set the glass on the counter before she turned to look at him again. “So you’re mum’s new boytoy?”

“Is that what she calls me?” he said, trying to play off the tight feeling in his chest with a small smirk.

“She doesn’t call you anything, actually. She’s been going on these little dates, calling them ‘work calls’ and hoping I won’t notice.”

“How do you know they’re not work calls?”

“I wouldn’t have until she brought you home with her.”

“That was my fault…” he looked down at his coffee. He was convinced he could already feel the caffeine buzzing in his fingertips.

“You look different,” she said.

His eyes shot back to her. “How so?”

“Your hair’s longer. It makes you look older.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled at the way she recoiled into herself.

“I meant it as a compliment, honest.”

She looked different too. Her face hadn’t changed much from what he could remember, but mostly he noticed that she seemed more subdued. Her eyes were set in dark circles and they weren’t as wide, and when she wasn’t speaking her lips fell slightly. She looked older, but then how long had it been since Dragonstone? More than three years, less than four.

She told him where everything was in the kitchen, which he could have figured out himself but he didn’t want to interrupt her. She asked how long he was going to stay and he said until he heard back from Aegon.

That turned out to be a week later, and by then Alys insisted she liked having him around.

Initially he looked at a few rentals, which Alys discouraged and insisted he should buy his own place. Between work and the daily mass of texts he was getting from his siblings about Targ Corp and their parents, he couldn’t find the time to truly consider it.

It was easy to fall into a routine with Alys. She left for work earlier than him so he took his own car every morning. Everyone at the office guessed they were ‘together’ but they kept things professional. If he so much as put a hand on her shoulder she scared him off with a warning look. She always stayed later than him so he’d go back to the house, sort out dinner and have it waiting for when the girls got home.

The girls. He was going domestic.

She only had lectures a few times a week and when she was at home she stayed in her bedroom, only occasionally bringing a book down to the garden or the lounge while he worked in the kitchen. He wondered if she was avoiding him. Considering the awful impression he made at Dragonstone, he didn’t blame her.

But eventually she started to warm up to him. They found some common interests and small talk turned into in-depth discussions of history and politics and their favourite films and albums. She loved Mazzy Star especially. Sometimes, when he had the house to himself, he’d listen through their albums and imagine her listening to the same songs.

He soon learned just how elusive Alys could be. She always had something going on, a work event, a conference or even trips to Pentos with her old uni friends. When she was at home she was usually in the study on the top floor of the house, on a call, looking over contracts or managing some kind of crisis that only she could solve. If he joined her on work trips it was by her invitation.

So he often found himself alone with her. Movie nights became a weekly ritual, usually late in the week, and every week they seemed to sit a little closer to each other than before.

One night she fell asleep against him. His arm was around the back of the sofa and her head gently fell against his chest.

He wasn’t sure what to do, if he should wake her, but she looked so peaceful with her eyes closed, lips parted and breath fluttering down the collar of his t-shirt. Her body was warm and she was wearing that same citrusy perfume.

He wanted to keep her there. He could lie down, hold her in his arms and fall asleep pressed into her back.

Guilt told him otherwise. So he moved away from her, as carefully as he could, and guided her to lie fully on the sofa with a pillow under her head and a blanket draped over her body.

Alys came in from a dinner sometime after 1am and slipped wordlessly into her side of the bed. Within minutes he could hear her gentle snores.

He closed his eyes but he didn’t sleep. All he could think about was her breath on his chest, the way her shorts had ridden up her thighs, and that fucking perfume.

He was probably just tired, getting excited by some old crush which he was way past by now. He was sure he would forget about it by the morning.

If only it had ended there.

By the time spring came around she had warmed up to him. They spent Sunday mornings drinking coffee together in the garden and went for drives out to Blackwater Bay. They had inside jokes and talked about their families. Some nights she’d come crying to him over uni, arguments with her mother and a stupid boy who broke her heart. She was so pretty when she cried.

When she asked him to help her with a particular exam he couldn’t help himself. He noticed everything about their study sessions together, the way she shuddered when he put a hand on her shoulder, the way her breath hitched when he praised her.

His heart swelled when she came home from that exam with a wide smile, throwing herself into his arms and telling him all the details she could remember. Her eyes were so bright and gazing up at him almost adoringly.

He was so happy for her, and so proud.

She didn’t pull away when he kissed her. She met him with soft touches to his neck and a hummed whimper that threatened to spark something primal in him.

They smiled at each other when it was over, until the haze started to wear off. He cleared his throat, and muttered that he still had work to do. She nodded but they kept staring at each other, his hands on her waist and hers drifting down from his neck to his chest.

She was the first to step away. He watched her disappear through the door and wondered how he had managed to make such a mess of his life.

For the entirety of the next week he couldn’t get that muffled whimper out of his head.

Every time he saw her he wanted to drag her into him and kiss her again, harsher, hungrier, with his hands tracing over every inch of her body.

He told himself he was being stupid and he just needed an outlet. For the most part, he and Alys doing well together, but on the few occasions they actually fucked he found the novelty of being beneath her was starting to wear off.

Frustratingly, everything else seemed to be working well for him. He was good at his job; working for Rivers PR was certainly helping to distract him from his family and the company was thriving. He didn’t have to put up with his parents and the Rivers girls seemed happy enough to have him around. The only problem left was him.

In June Alys was accompanying a client on a trip to Dorne, a few days in Salt Shore, Lemonwood and then a week in Sunspear. Aemond wasn’t sure if he was elated or dreading her absence. Every time he’d been around her lately he held his breath, waiting for her to realise something was wrong.

She remained perfectly normal though. Her exams were finished and she had an internship at Lion Publishing lined up for the month of August. In the meantime she was living life as she pleased, lunch dates and picnics in the park with her friends, but she spent a lot of time at home too, mostly reading or writing in a leatherbound notebook.

The kiss was a mistake. A stupid mistake. He kept looking for a chance to talk to her, but decided it might be best until Alys was away.

Alys’ flight was due on a Friday evening and he dropped her off in the afternoon. They sat in silence for most of the journey but silence wasn’t a rarity for them.

When they reached the airport they both went to take the bags out the boot.

“I’m a big girl, I can manage,” she said dryly, but that was just her sense of humour.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said.

She set her suitcase by her side and slipped her arm through her Prada tote bag. “The two of you can look after yourselves well enough,” she said, fussing with the collar of her blouse. “I don’t need to tell you not to answer the door to strangers or anything?”

He smiled unenthusiastically. “No.”

With her eyes one the pavement, she brought her fingers to the styled waves of her hair, bringing a few tresses over her shoulder.

“She’s fond of you,” she said. “I know I can’t always be there for her when she needs me, but I know you helped her with that exam and I appreciate it.” There was no sign of shortness or irritation like there usually was when she spoke about anything remotely personal. She was being sincere and it just made him feel worse.

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders and the businesswoman was back. “Right then. I’d give you a kiss goodbye but I have lipstick on.”

How devastatingly practical, as always. She threw an arm around his shoulder and he pecked her cheek before she headed for the terminal, quickly and gracefully, heels clicking against the ground.

He had plans to meet Helaena for dinner at a restaurant in central. With her mother out the way, she had invited a few friends to celebrate the end of exams and he figured she’d appreciate the space.

He didn’t realise how much he missed not living with his sister until he saw her. That was the downside of the new circumstances, he never got to see his siblings as much as he wanted to.

Helaena asked him about Alys and her, how they were dealing with Harwin still in the hospital. He told her the truth, they didn’t really talk about it much, but by that point it was a matter of waiting for the inevitable.

Apparently Rhaenyra was a mess. She would be. Her husband was dying, she had three kids to look after and Harrenhal PR was falling to pieces now that Larys was in charge and Alys had poached half of their best clients.

Helaena was exhausted. She was getting ready to start a PhD in Highgarden and she should have been excited, but she hardly had the wherewithal to think about it with Alicent and Viserys’ constant rowing. At least Daeron would be back in a few more days so she wouldn’t be the only child at the house.

“Are you coming to Dragonstone this year?” she asked.

He took a telling breath through his nose and finished off his glass of wine.

“Aemond, please, it won’t be the same without you.”

He scoffed. “No one wants me there.”

She frowned at him with those sad blue eyes of hers. “Don’t say that.”

“Did you know mum hasn’t called me once since I left? It’s been five months. Do you really think I can just show up and we’ll play happy families then go back to hating each other when we get home?”

Her face twisted like she might start crying.

“Sorry I just–” he held his forehead in his hands and dragged them back over his hair. He didn’t want to think about Dragonstone, it just made him think of her.

He felt her hand gently take his wrist and guide it down to the table so she could see his face.

“What’s up with you?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

She raised her eyebrows and hummed like she didn’t believe him.

It wasn’t long after 10pm when he got back to the house. He heard voices and giggles in the front lounge. He walked softly through the hallway and slowed when he came to the door.

“... that’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Jo, you’re sick.”

“Oh step-daddy!”

Laughter followed, with a few disbelieving sighs. He recognised her laugh, and made out two other distinct voices. He guessed they hadn’t heard him come in.

“Is he hot though?”

He listened for a reply but she stayed quiet.

“Oh come on! I bet you’ve thought about it.”

“No.” She said it so simply he almost believed her.

He moved through to the kitchen intending to get some water. There were two empty pizza boxes and an assortment of empty wine bottles on the kitchen island. He went to clean them up when the door opened.

“Hi,” she said softly. Her face was dewy and a little flushed. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“I only just got in,” he said, “don’t worry I didn’t hear anything incriminating.”

She tilted her head at him with a slightly dazed smile. She looked gorgeous and the pair of jeans she wore fit her perfectly.

She refilled the glasses from a new bottle and nodded to an empty glass on the counter. “Do you want to join us?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” she said.

He followed her through to the lounge, bringing the glass and the bottle with him.

Before he opened the door she leaned into him and whispered, “don’t worry, Margarey has work tomorrow and Jo’s waiting for her boyfriend so they won’t stay long.”

Margaery and Joanna were effortlessly charming but he distrusted them for being law students. They both grinned when he sat on the sofa by the window and were eager to ask him about his time in Oldtown and his job.

Joanna kept glancing over to her, but she remained unphased until Margarey mentioned Targ Corp. Her face slowly fell in irritation. He found it quite endearing.

“So why did you leave?” Joanna asked, “it was something to do with Viserys’ will, right?”

“It’s none of your business, is it?” she said shortly.

Aemond gave her a quick smile to let her know it was alright and she settled back to contentment.

Just as she said, they were both gone before midnight. She saw them to the door and when she came back to the lounge she fell beside him with her legs against his and her head on his shoulder.

“Did you have a nice evening?” he asked. If he turned his head just a little further his lips would brush against her temple.

“Really lovely,” she sighed.

He considered asking about the kiss, but she was definitely tipsy and just sitting with her was too peaceful. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb the moment and the sound of her breathing.

Her fingers began to trace up over the fabric of his shirt, up and down over his stomach and the lines of his abs underneath.

He put his hand over hers to stop her, but somehow it only seemed to spur his own want. He closed his hand around her, tracing his thumb over her knuckles.

She shifted her head so she was looking at him and her breath echoed over his neck.

She leaned in first. Their lips met with gentle grazes, just feeling each other and breathing the same air.

Gradually they deepened their movements. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he melted at her softness and her warmth. He cupped her jaw to pull her into him despite the gnawing feeling in his chest, like he was getting too close, like he could never get close enough.

She started to move and he tried to keep hold of her, expecting her to slip from his grasp, until he felt her weight on his lap. She straddled him, wrapping her hands around the sides of his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. She gave him another dazed little smile before she continued to kiss him fiercely, desperately.

It was a bad idea. It was such a bad idea, but for now he would take the guilt if he got to feel her like this, her lips trailing along his jaw and down his neck, her heavy breaths and whimpers as she started to rock her hips against him.

He reached to take hold of her hips, moving with her at first before he set a new, steadier pace, dragging her against the tightening bulge in his jeans. “You alright there, pet?” he hummed.

She nudged her forehead against his. “Please can you just…” her eyes followed her hands as she propped herself against his chest.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered.

She let out a whine that went straight to his cock.

“Come on,” he hissed, “talk to me.”

She clenched her fists to tug at his shirt. “I want you,” she breathed.

He strained an exhale as he tried to stop his hips from bucking into her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said with a groan, but he was already trying to rationalise it.

She could be the outlet, just once, just to get it out of his system.

“No it’s not, but I still want you,” she said.

Or maybe it didn’t have to be about him. He could just give her what she needed.

“Please,” she whined trying to fight against his hold on her hips, “I want you so bad, it fucking hurts.”

“Oh you poor thing,” he cooed, moving his face down to tease the skin of her throat with his lips and tongue.

He knew they were on the cusp of something dangerous and damning, but it was her, the girl from that summer, the girl with the pretty smile and the curious look in her eyes, Alys’ daughter.

When he looked up to her face her eyes were wide and pleading.

Maybe he felt he owed it to a younger version of himself, or maybe it was the wine he’d had at the restaurant but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the consequences.

He pressed his palm against her stomach, feeling her body tremble and her quick, shallow breaths. He trailed lower to undo the buttons on her jeans. “Take these off for me,” he muttered.

She didn’t hesitate to follow his instruction. She drew the jeans down her legs, leaving her in her top and a black thong. He told her to straddle him again, which she did.

With firm but gentle hands he felt along the bare flesh of her thighs and her ass, positioning her over his thigh. He pulled the thong against her until she was squirming and trying to rut against his jeans.

He chuckled softly to himself and held her waist tightly to keep her still, and she followed the silent instruction so well. She was panting, leaning in closer to him, but waiting for his lead. He was slightly scared of how much he loved it.

He brought his hand to her cheek, stroking and toying with her bottom lip. “Do you want to be good for me?” he whispered.

She hummed her agreement.

“Fuck yourself against my thigh, pretty girl, show me how desperate you are.”

With a small nod she started to move, letting out little moans when her clothed clit rolled against his leg.

He kept her movements slow, even when she tried to fight against him and go faster.

“No,” he said, “be a good girl for me, do as you’re told.”

The pace was agonising for her, eyes screwed shut and jaw hung open as her hands got restless, running over his jaw, his neck and into his hair.

He kept her steady and pressed her down against his jeans with each drag of her hips, playing with the change in pressure and smiling at the way it made her whine and her eyes water.

“Aemond… I need more…”

He still kept the movements nice and slow. “Just let it happen– there you go, good fucking girl.”

She didn’t hold back her moans as her climax hit her, tensing hard and falling into him. He kept her moving through it, until her thighs were shaking and she begged him to stop.

He was sure he’d never been so hard in his life, but he held her there, breathing in the smell of her hair and her perfume.

Then he brought her away from him so he could see her face, beautifully blissed out. There was that light, hopeful feeling in his chest, but it was starting to crumble under the realisation of what they’d done.

“Is that actually a thing, the step-daddy thing?” he asked.

She huffed a breathy laugh. “According to Jo it is. Why, do you want me to call you daddy?”

He wouldn’t admit it then, but he liked the way it sounded coming from her.

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick

#my fics #aemond targaryen #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #modern!aemond #modern au #house of the dragon fanfiction #stepdad!aemond #my heart belongs to daddy

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