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tired-of-you-and-you · 2 days ago

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The Family Curse - Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Warnings: Childbirth, Pregnancy, Complications with Child Birth, Infidelity, Reader is Rhaenyra's Daughter with Harwin, Blood, Reader is Aegon's Wife

Word Count: ~2800 words

Plot: You were always a source of Aemond's deep desire. Unfortunately, you also happened to be his brother's wife.

Master List

You rose early, as you always did, and slowly slid from bed. Your maids quickly dressed you and pulled some of your hair back into loose braids to free your face. You broke your fast alone before slowly making your way down to the gardens.

Running your hands over the petals of the blooming flowers, you smiled at the array of vibrant colors. Although it was difficult for you to bend down and inspect them, you picked one flower from the bunch and lifted it up to your nose. Inhaling the sweet smell, you only tore your eyes from the flower at the subtle sound of footsteps.

Aemond stood with his arms folded behind his back and the sun’s angle hiding most of his face from your vision. And yet the softness in his eye cut through the morning light and tugged at the edges of your lips. He silently drank in the sight of you, swollen with child, and appearing completely ethereal in the early morning light.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, to which Aemond nodded.

“The flowers are blooming beautifully,” Aemond drawled, glanced down at the flowers as he stepped closer. His eye snapped back up to your face as he added, “Not unlike you, Princess.”

You rested your free hand on your bump as you returned Aemond’s stare. You tilted your chin up, as if to challenge his compliment. But the pleased smirk on your lips did little to dissuade him from showering you with more.

“You are simply too kind.” You glanced around the gardens for any wandering eyes before turning back to Aemond. “Would you accompany me?”

Aemond nodded silently and the two of you turned down the path together. You kept a hand on your bump as you waddled down the way. Aemond watched you carefully and held out a hand to assist you down the stairs and onto a bench beside a small fountain. The tall grasses provided some privacy and the drip of the water would dull your whispers from listening ears.

As Aemond took his seat, you gently grabbed his gloved hand by the wrist. He made no comment as you tugged the glove off, one finger at a time, before you placed his bare palm against your bump where the babe had been kicking of late.

“They are getting stronger,” Aemond commented, feeling the babe press against his hand.

You sighed, nodding along. “The maesters believe that I will deliver early.”

Aemond turned to urgently, showing a sliver of fear. “Is something wrong?”

“No, but the babe is eager to leave my womb. Can you not feel it?” you quipped, appearing even more tired than before. You let out a breath, trying to get comfortable. “I sent a raven to my mother this morning, requesting her presence. I expect her arrival shortly.”

Aemond let out a low hum. “Then I expect my mother’s mood to sour accordingly.”

“Yes.” You pursed your lips together, watching the fountain. “Lucky me.”

Aemond turned to you, observing you freely in the light of day. Silently he reached out and gently took the flower from your loose grip. Your eyes studied his face as he carefully wove the flower into your braid. Once he was certain that the flower was secured, Aemond sat back, finally meeting your burning gaze once more.

“Do you wish for me to remain close?” Aemond asked, appealing for your approval.

You looked down at your bump, carefully tracing the pattern of your dress with your finger. “What I wish for and what can be allowed are two different matters.” You let out a breath through your nose, closing your eyes for a moment. “Your mother and grandsire are already plotting against my mother, against me, and against the child that I carry. I do not wish to provide them with more fodder.”

“I can protect you,” Aemond assured you softly. “You and the child.”

“By making that vow, you would put the both of us at even more risk, Aemond.”

“What would you have me do then?” Aemond quietly demanded, earning a sharp stare from you in return. “Watch as you and our child are left unprotected by my fool of a brother and simply do nothing? To just stand there and watch you suffer?” Aemond shifted in his seat to face you further. “I do not possess such restraint.”

“You must. If you act overly protective over me and the babe, it will be used against us by your mother and your grandsire, just as it was used against mine own mother.”

“But this babe will surely be born with silver hair,” Aemond protested, causing you to sigh.

“Do not let your emotions blind you to the reality of the situation,” you replied quietly, resting a protective arm over your bump. “War is coming. Every day, the king grows weaker, and every day your mother and grandsire conspire to put your brother on the throne. This babe will be yet another pawn in their game no matter what color his or her hair is.”

You sat in silence for a few moments and Aemond reluctantly removed his hand from your bump. He slipped his glove back onto his hand and instead simply stared longingly at you. If only you had been betrothed to him instead of his pathetic brother. At the very least, he would have been able to protect you.

After a few more moments of silence, Aemond mentioned quietly, “Phirax misses you. He can sense your restlessness.” You did not reply, but Aemond could see your brow slowly unfurrow at the mention of your dragon. “Would you like to see him?”

“Your mother has forbidden me to ride.”

Aemond allowed a small smirk. “Then I will ensure that you remain on the ground.”

*~*~*~*

Aemond assisted you out of the carriage and the moment that your feet touched the floor, the sound of wings beating filled the air. You smiled brightly, releasing Aemond’s hand to waddle forward as Phirax, a long and beautiful beast with shiny obsidian scales, landed in the grass. He called out a greeting to his rider, lowering his head towards you.

“Easy, Phirax, easy,” you hummed, resting your hand on his head. He released a snort of warm air over you, causing you to laugh. “I missed you too.”

Aemond remained by the carriage with his arms folded behind his back, watching as your silver hair reflected the sun. Your smile was wide and your eyes shone with far more joy than he had seen in weeks. It allowed him some measure of personal relief as well.

You refrained from climbing atop your dragon, not because you truly cared what your mother-in-law believed or even the maesters, but because your swollen belly did not allow you to complete the maneuver. But resting your head against his neck, you swore you could fall asleep in that position.

Phirax lifted his head suddenly and growled. As you lifted your head up, Phirax wrapped his long neck around you, shielding you from view and from harm. He let out a low growl as he narrowed his yellow eyes.

The sound of another carriage reached Aemond’s ears and he turned to watch it approach. Criston Cole was out of the carriage first, casting a disapproving stare in Aemond’s direction before he turned and assisted Alicent from the carriage. The queen’s lips were pursed as she strode towards her second son.

With a huff, Alicent demanded, “Where is the princess?”

“With her dragon, Mother.”

“And you allowed her to come out here?” Alicent glanced warily over at Phirax. Her annoyance retreated for a moment before returning as she found Aemond once more. “She will soon begin her labors.”

“Phirax would not allow anything to happen to her,” Aemond defended. Nor would I, he also thought.

“Call her back. She must return for her safety and that of your brother’s heir.”

Aemond pursed his lips but with another sharp stare from his mother, he slowly made his way over to where Phirax was still cradling you. Phirax growled at him in warning and Aemond stopped walking, not wanting to challenge the beast. Instead, he waited patiently for you to remove yourself from your dragon’s side.

“I will return when I can,” your promised Phirax, brushing his snout with your hand. “And I will introduce you to my hatchling.”

With a reluctant sigh, you walked away from Phirax, who whined, trying to keep you close. And when you looked back at Phirax, Aemond gently nudged your elbow to encourage you along. You turned forward and immediately put up a mask of indifference when you spotted Alicent and Criston Cole awaiting your return.

“Your Grace,” you greeted quietly, pursing your lips together.

“You should not be outside of the Keep’s walls, Princess. You carry my son’s heir in your womb and it is that child’s safety that you must ensure.”

You folded your hands on your pregnant belly. “I would never put mine own child at risk.”

Alicent narrowed her eyes. “Still, you must remain close. Your husband worries for you.”

You let out a quiet scoff. “My husband has not shown me his face in a week, Your Grace.”

“I do hope that you are not speaking ill of the prince,” Criston Cole spoke up, standing beside Alicent. “Prince Aegon was spending last night in deep study.”

“As always, Ser Criston, your insight has been truly illuminating,” you quipped, sarcasm dripping from your lips. You rested a hand on your back and lowered into a mock curtsey. “If you require anything further of me, I shall be in my chambers, Your Grace.”

Without another word, you walked back to the carriage. Aemond watched you go, but remained where he stood when he felt his mother’s disapproving stare creep over him once more.

*~*~*~*

Your water broke overnight, but you did not call for the maesters until your maid found you the next morning, bent over and groaning. You desperately wished for your mother’s presence as you continued with your labors. You did not trust those who held your life and your child’s life in their hands.

Aemond closed his eye as another one of your cries of pain echoed through the Keep. Rubbing his forehead worriedly, he tried to focus on the text in front of him once more. His grandsire was in the other room with his mother, but Aemond did not know if he would be able to stomach their presences right now. Not with you in pain.

Aegon was nowhere to be found. Not that it was expected for him to attend his child’s birth, but he certainly was expected to be close by for when news broke. But Aegon was gone, as he had been since he married you.

Aemond tried to push away the thoughts of maiming his brother as you let out another scream.

In the birthing chambers, you were drenched in sweat and tears streamed down your cheeks. Your entire lower half was numb with pain and you could barely breathe. Panting, you managed to push your torso up once more and with one more guttural scream, you finally felt the pressure release.

The sound of a crying infant filled the room. Picking your head up, you choked out a sob at the sight of your babe, who waived her fists around as she cried. And the stark silver hair atop her head only increased your sobs of relief.

“A healthy daughter, Princess.”

You happily took your child into your arms, pulling your baby to your chest. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you nuzzled your daughter’s soft head, allowing yourself to release the pent-up emotions that you had kept locked inside for months.

Your fear, your shame, your defiance—all simply melting away in the embrace of your newborn.

The door opened and a maid stepped inside, looking nervous. You did not acknowledge her, far too focused on your daughter, but the maid slowly walked over. “Princess, the Queen . . . she wishes for her grandchild to be brought to her. Immediately.”

Your smile broke and you cast a sharp stare at the maid. “Immediately? She must see the babe immediately?”

“It is custom, Princess. I can take the babe—”

“—No,” you immediately protested, tightening your grip on your baby. “I will bring my child.”

Steeling her emotions, you pressed your forehead to your daughter’s own and could only pray that your mother and stepfather were close. Your maid helped you dress quickly before you started the trek up to the queen’s chambers.

“My lady, you are still bleeding,” your maid called, hurrying beside you. “You must rest.”

“Yes, I must, but the queen’s will cannot be ignored!” you snapped sarcastically, cradling your whimpering baby to your chest.

The nobles stared at you, offering congratulations and greetings, though you ignored them. As you reached the stairs, you let out a pained gasp and leaned heavily on the railing. Your limbs trembled as the blood continued to trickle down your legs.

“My lady, please,” your maid, your only true and trusted companion in King’s Landing, begged you. “You must return to your bed.”

You grit your teeth and forced yourself to climb the stairs, leaving behind a pool of blood where you had taken a rest. Your dress was surely stained by now, but you did not even notice. You let out another gasp on pain and tears came to your eyes. If it were not for your maid’s steady hand, your surely would have collapsed.

“My lady, please.”

You opened your eyes and looked up the stairs to find Criston Cole and Otto Hightower staring down at you. Forcing yourself up two more stairs, you nearly tripped, causing your maid to tighten her grip on you. The blood seemed to be trickling harder with every step that you took and you could feel your body start to give out.

Staring down at your daughter, who whimpered against your breast, your vision started to blur. You slipped to sit on the stairs and leaned against the railing, holding your daughter to your chest. You refused to give up your child, to relinquish her into the cruel world.

“Please,” you whispered, as your limbs grew heavy. “Please, do not take her away.”

A familiar voice called your name as a hand rested against your cheek. You opened your eyes lazily. Your gaze remained unfocused, but you could still register the features of Aemond’s face. Your head lolled to the side, too heavy for your neck to hold up any longer. You felt yourself be lifted into the air before the world grew dark.

*~*~*~*

Rhaenyra and Daemon flew side by side from Dragonstone to King’s Landing. The moment that Rhaenyra received the raven from you, explaining that your labors were expected to begin early, she had immediately prepared to leave, not wanting you to go through your labors alone.

Syrax let out a whine, causing Rhaenyra’s lips to purse with worry. King’s Landing could be seen in the distance, but a large black mass moved to intercept them. Recognizing your mount, Rhaenyra felt her chest tighten. She shared a concerned look with Daemon at Phirax’s cry of pain and spurred Syrax to fly faster.

Rhaenyra strode into the Red Keep with sharp eyes. Daemon walked a step behind her with matching fury. Alicent stood at the top of the stairs and Rhaenyra noted the nervous tick of her fingers, which only deepened Rhaenyra’s scowl.

“Where is my daughter?” she demanded, reaching the top of the stairs.

“In her chambers,” Alicent replied quietly.

Rhaenyra cast one last glare in her direction before marching to your quarters. Throwing the doors open, Rhaenyra stumbled when she caught sight of you in bed. You were unnaturally pale as you laid with your eyes closed. A bucket full of bloody bandages sat at the base of the bed.

Rhaenyra rushed to your side. Your pulse was weak and your skin cold to the touch. Rhaenyra covered her mouth with her hand, letting out a quiet whimper before immediately tending to you. Daemon’s eyes were dark as he stepped into the room. His cold stare caused the maids and maesters to scurry about, like ants under an unearthed stone.

“What happened?” he demanded coldly, searching for an answer.

Your trusted maid stepped forward. “The Queen demanded the presence of the new princess, so that she may inspect her. The Princess insisted on bringing her daughter herself. She refused to be parted from her daughter.”

“And why should she have?” Daemon scoffed, shaking his head. “There are few things less cruel than ripping a newborn babe from their mother.”

“Indeed. And when she was forced up the stairs . . . the Princess collapsed.”

Daemon had heard all he needed. And so too, it seemed, had Rhaenyra. She stood up from your side and turned to share a look with Daemon.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x you

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silverspotted · 6 days ago

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༒︎ “ i am both the sacrificial lamb,

and the executioner.

the scapegoat —

and the sword slayer.

the one screaming

— and the angel of death. ” 𖤍

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venusbyline · 2 days ago

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The Blood of the Lamb (1/?)

prologue

— summary: During a few weeks, you thought that the idea of getting in one of your late father's cars and driving without any sensible planning to the distant farm where your uncles lived might be a good idea. You thought that their invitation for you to stay there for a while had been out of pure, genuine kindness. Then you chose to ignore any suspicious situation that could have prevented you from being there, almost on the verge of death and thrown in the middle of the forest.

— pairing: vampire!Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader x vampire!Aegon II Targaryen

— type: dark, smut, 1930s AU

— chapter's warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, human!reader, angst chapter, domestic violence, murder, characters deaths referenced, child death, past child abuse, non-graphic rape/non-con, underage rape/non-con, dysfunctional family, stepdad!Daemon Targaryen, minor Daemon Targaryen/reader, minor stepdad/stepdaughter incest, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/reader, minor older brother/younger sister incest, sexism, dark content, 1930s AU/vampire AU. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— old slangs used: Twit (a fool or idiot), Cooze (pussy), Can the twit (stop that idle talking), What’s the score (what are you talking about).

— author's notes¹: Heyy, finally this is the first chapter 💕💕💕 It's more a introduction chapter, but I loved to write it anyway.

— author's notes²: So that you don't get lost... Jacaerys is 23, Lucerys is 20, the reader is 16, Joffrey is 12, Aegon III is 7 and Viserys II is 6 (obviously I didn't follow the same age difference as in the books). Daemon is their stepfather and Aegon III and Viserys II are his biological sons and reader's half-brothers.

— author's notes³: The Blood of the Lamb is a series involving vampirism, Targcest and sexual master/slave themes.

— author's notes⁴: Each chapter will contain its own trigger warnings.

❥ Aemond masterlist • Aegon II masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

"Bringing a twit man into my house while I'm not here... What the hell was she thinking?"

That yelling was loud. Loud enough to overpower the soft and cozy sounds of cicadas and then abruptly waking up almost everyone present there, including you.

The previously quiet night turned into a strident noise, the closet being opened and then closed caught your attention. Although the cotton material of your nightgown showed your perky nipples beneath it, you did not think twice before getting out of bed and putting on your slippers to avoid the slight cold of the floor.

As soon as the bedroom door opened, you noticed the presences of your younger brother Joffrey and your older brother Lucerys in the hallway, both of the boys frowning at the sudden shouting.

The house become some kind of landmine, ready to explode on anyone.

Ignoring their worried faces, you began to walk closer to the kitchen, stopping when you came across the sight before you. "Uncle Daemon?"

"Oh! Hey, dollface! What a surprise seeing you up so late, mhm?" the man's voice was sarcastic, his large hands holding a bottle of Irish beer that you remembered Lucerys being given as a gift for his twentieth birthday.

Your heart skipped a beat at the venom dripping through the nickname, bile starting to burn in your stomach with each sip he took, the white foam disappearing and reappearing as he set the bottle down on the wooden table, only to pull it back up and bring it to the lips.

Though Daemon's dark eyes never left your face, staring at you like an animal about to attack and rip its prey apart, you did not flinch, instead allowing the question to echo through the room; "Is that the bottle Uncle Aemond sent Luke a few months ago?"

The world almost turned completely silent, and you could hear the sound of the wind hitting the windows and shaking the trees around outside. It was not exactly a very cold night, the weather was good at that time of year, the spring season making the surrounding plantations more colorful with various flowers, besides, of course, the cotton planting season, whose characteristic smell of the natural oil released by the seeds was still emanating through the air.

It was not exactly a cold night, and yet you felt a chill down the spine.

A chill that intensified when Daemon slammed the bottle on the table hard, the loud and shrill sound of the glass shattering making you scream in fright, taking two steps back.

"You fucking whore! Daring to question me about your brother's stupid beer? Daring to question the man of that damn house?"

There was no way you could dodge in time. Before you could even blink, Daemon’s heavy hand had already landed on your face. A brutal slap. Or maybe it had been a punch? You could not be sure, not when you fell pathetically to the ground.

Not when you could not move when Daemon's body felt so heavy on top of you. Not when the floor hardened your nipples as they were pressed against it after Daemon turned you over on your stomach. Not when a shot went off and left your eardrums ringing, more warm blood stained the skin of your cheek.

More blood that was not yours.

Two light slaps on your cheek to keep you from unconsciousness. A newborn's cry echoed in your ears. Another slap. The newborn's cry suddenly stopped. Lucerys screamed in fright, saying that the baby was no longer breathing. A few minutes later, Jacaerys whispered to Lucerys to stop the cardiac massage because it was no use anymore, there was no heartbeat.

No. That was not what happened this time.

Two loud gunshots near where you were regained your consciousness. The cry of your little brother Viserys echoed in your ears. Another shot. The child's cry suddenly stopped. Lucerys screamed in fright, saying that Viserys was no longer breathing. A few minutes later, Jacaerys whispered to Lucerys to stop the cardiac massage because it was no use anymore, there was no heartbeat.

"J-Jace?" you struggled to move from where you were, only to feel a sharp pain in the upper body.

"Stay still," Jacaerys' sharp bite caught you off guard, the words muffled by the thunderous roar of the car's engine.

A car. You were inside a car. And that uproarious engine felt all too familiar for your own liking. No one had been inside there in years.

Rising up and letting out a soft gasp, you glanced confusedly to the left side, noticing the presence of Aegon and Joffrey, your younger brothers in the backseat with you, and the presence of Lucerys in the passenger seat. Almost immediately, you paled and the gaze darted to the rearview mirror. "Where's Viserys?"

Jacaerys' hands tightened on the steering wheel, until his knuckles turned white. Even though Lucerys whispered your name as a warning, you repeated the question, a little louder this time.

The sounds you remembered just before you came back to consciousness were confusing, but horrifying. Your little brother's crying made you dizzy, as did the discomfort in your eardrum and the smell of blood in your hair.

When you repeated the question for the second time in less than two minutes, Jacaerys slammed the steering wheel, catching everyone inside the car by surprise.

"SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up, you stupid fucking little whore! This is all your fault! This is all your fault for not getting your disgusting cooze without a fat cock inside it!"

Lucerys seemed to notice how the yelling was turning you into a blubbering mess. The curses were bringing back more memories than your newly traumatized mind could handle, and as soon as your panicked screams started to get too loud, Jacaerys braked abruptly, stopping at a random corner of the road and getting out of the car, moving to the back door and pulling you out by the hair.

There were no more angry words from your older brother. The dark, empty — and previously silent —road was now consumed by your cries of pain and the your older brothers struggling in vain to pull Jacaerys off of your body, begging him to come to his senses. Begging Jacaerys to stop treating his younger sister like their stepfather had always done, since their childhood.

“He loves you, sister. You know that, don’t you?”

Lucerys’ presence caught your attention while you emerged from the bathroom of the cheap motel Jacaerys had rented for two nights. A small and dirty place in the middle of the road, good enough to fit all of you in just one bed and good enough that the owner, an old man without a few teeth, did not even question the reason for your injured state and torn clothes, not even asking why the hell you had brought a child there — although the semi-abandoned motel was sometimes frequented by worse odd travelers, the arrivals of two adult men, a scared half-naked girl, a young boy and a child were suspicious.

"Can the twit! He doesn't love me. A brother who loves his little sister wouldn't do what he did with me yesterday," Lucerys turned his head away so as not to try to look at your nakedness, or the bruises Jacaerys left on your skin. "A brother doesn't rape his own sister. And it isn't the first time he's done that to me."

His eyes darkened for the first time since Jacaerys had packed all of his siblings into his late father's old car and driven off without a clear direction beyond the small town the four of you lived in. To find a safe place for his family after what he and Lucerys had done.

"What's the score? All the times he did that were because of Uncle Daemon's orders to punish you both. He never liked hurting you!"

You flinched at the tone he used, heart skipping a beat and your eyes filling with tears. What Jacaerys done had been horrible to all of his siblings, and yet Lucerys would not have had the heart to do anything about it.

He would not have had the heart to shoot Jacaerys like his older brother had done to Daemon.

And that was both comforting and tragic at the same.

Long minutes passed since your brother’s words had hit you hard, leaving you with tears in the eyes as you dressed in a black pants and a beige shirt with white buttons, improvised clothes that Jacaerys had taken from the suitcase he had brought with him — as they prepared to flee the house, Joffrey had been ordered to pack a suitcase with some clothes for everyone. For you, however, he had only managed to bring two too-thin nightgowns and a simple moss green dress, in case you managed to find a safe place to settle.

Jacaerys and Joffrey were buying some foods at bakery next to the motel, and Aegon was sleeping in the big bed, which made the tense atmosphere between you and Lucerys seem very melancholic. He noticed your silent crying and got up from the mattress, moving closer, a hand on each of your shoulders and hugging you from behind. “You’ll be fine, sister. We all will.”

“I miss Viserys. And mommy.”

Lucerys sighed at what he heard, nodding with a few tears streaming down his natural rosy cheeks. “I miss Viserys too.”

You did not blame him for not mourning Rhaenyra’s death. You understood why they needed her dead so all of you could escape, and you understood why he had been the one to take the gun from Jacaerys' hand to fire two shots at the woman who gave birth to him.

Three weeks. It took three days for everyone to safely reach the rural and also forgotten part of another small town where they hoped to find a family support, some little help. Jacaerys and Lucerys took turns between who would drive for hours and who would sleep during that time.

Three weeks in total, since all the siblings fled the own home after murdering the stepfather, mother and younger brother. Three weeks fearing being caught and arrested. Five days fearing for the safety of Joffrey and Aegon.

That night, it was you who reminded them about the place where they could try to seek a quick shelter. A place where, perhaps, they could be safe. Far from home, far from the crimes committed and traumas they had faced for so many years.

Jacaerys knew that there was a possibility that his call for help would be ignored, or worse: being stabbed by the police and handed over to the authorities, just like all his younger siblings. Yet, your idea could be the least complicated way to face it.

Then Jacaerys chose you to go through the wire fence, helping you climb up and down without hurting yourself, avoiding looking at the purple mark he had left on your neck. You were certainly not the best person to cross the dark path full of trees, branches and noisy crows, but at least the desperation and need to help your brothers was much more intense than the fear of crows or your lack of ability to find safe parts of the woods to step on without the risk of tripping.

Also, there was no one better than you to knock on the wooden door of the farm's entrance ahead.

You were sure about that when the door opened and your uncles Aegon and Aemond stared at you with wide, shocked eyes, as if they did not recognize who was in front of them at first, their pupils dilating when they noticed the familiar feeling that admiring those tear-filled eyes always brought to them. A dark smile appeared on Aemond's lips after your heartbeat increased.

"We missed you, dear little niece."

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lanadelreylover11 · 11 months ago

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I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like

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glasscandlegrenades · 10 days ago

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Children of the Empire

a/n: finally finished my aemond x strong!reader fic, only took me two years and 350k words so i thought i'd share it here in celebration

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, and twin to her heir, Prince Jacaerys. When your younger brother assails your uncle in a childhood squabble, your grandsire, the King Viserys, offers your hand in marriage as payment for Aemond's lost eye.

Plighted in a match that is beheld by many and desired by none, you find yourself alone in a nest of vipers, forced to watch as your mother and the Queen maneuver and vie for influence within the court and the Realm. Despite your youth, fears, and insecurity, you know you must apply your will and wits to one claim or another, but this choice becomes more and more difficult as you find yourself further entrenched within the family who would see your mother and siblings fed to the flames.

Aemond x Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, non-con, abortion, suicide, depression, grief, unwanted pregnancy, childbirth, motherhood, toxic relationships, dubious consent, traumatic birth, i promise some good things happen too tho

Word count: 350k

Chapter One: Without Love

“I am so frightened.”

You whisper it as your mother leans over your shoulder, fastening a pearl earbob to your lobe.

You whisper it like a prayer for only her ears, for mothers have more sway than all the gods put together, or at least yours does, her noble brow wrinkled in concern all morning as she has pushed through your trousseau and sharply directed the servants who hustle about your chambers with swaths of linen.

You have avoided pleading; your mother and stepfather have both met with the King already, suggesting matches that may strengthen ties to other houses, but the King has been insistent.

He appears to have very little energy for anything anymore, but he has thrown himself into planning your wedding with great vigor, and the feasts and tourneys of the last week have rivaled those that the Queen had held for her two eldest children’s wedding three years past. You suppose it should feel an honor.

It feels like an insult.

Your mother releases the pearl, a great sigh escaping her lips as you feel her hand fall to your shoulder and squeeze gently.

“My darling, would that I could spare you this,” Rhaenyra says, her lips turning down in worry. She steps around to face you, giving your white gown a once over before taking your hands in her own.

“I was loath to marry your father, but my King commanded it.”

Your mother’s voice is deep and quiet. She reaches forward and tucks a loose mahogany curl behind your ear as she gives you a wan smile. “In the end, Laenor and I shared many happy memories. I am sure that you both will find a way to share in your own joys.”

You blanch at the thought of your one-eyed uncle. “He questions our legitimacy, Mother. He hates me.”

Rhaenyra’s smile falters and she releases a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry.”

She looks across the solar, past the balcony and across the city towards the sept. You feel an immense wave of guilt at how quickly she has turned despondent.

Neither Jace nor Luke ever cause her such anguish. You have no wish to, either.

Rhaenyra twists the rings on her left hand. “I feel that I have failed you.”

“No, Mother, I-” but she gives you her look, the one that silences you immediately. You haven’t received one so severe since you and Jacaerys returned from Spicetown, drunk and stumbling, on your fourteenth name day.

Your mother continues, her expression solemn. “How, my darling girl, how can I make this better for you?”

You press both hands to the bodice of your gown, trying to tamp down the queasiness that bubbles in your stomach.

“Do you think it will do any good?” You hate the childish note in your voice, craving her reassurance that your suffering will not be for nothing. “Do you think the rumors about us will stop if I wed one of them?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze chills as she observes you. “We are Targaryens. There will always be whispers, and sometimes our presence alone is enough to fan the flames. It does not matter what anyone thinks but you, my sweet girl.”

She smiles, then. “I hate the thought of leaving you, but perhaps instead of remaining here as his wife, you can think of yourself as my envoy here at King’s Landing. Make sure that the wishes of Dragonstone, and not those of Oldtown, are given their consideration, hm?”

You try to smile, but you can feel it falter on your face. Your mother’s brow creases with worry again, and you feel guilty at upsetting her, especially when being in the capital already causes her strife.

She once more pushes some of your unruly curls behind your ear. “What ails you, my sweet? I know I may have been a - well, an indulgent parent, yet I also know that I never promised that you would be able to marry for love alone,” Rhaenyra sighs again. “Mayhaps you and he might work out some arrangement - one where you are able to do your duty to the Realm, and then-”

“That’s just it,” you groan miserably. “My duty, let us name it for what it is: to be a mother to his children! To grow fat with Targaryens over and over, to give endless heirs to a pompous, proud, arrogant man who has only looked in my direction with scorn.”

Your mother purses her lips. You look over her shoulder, to where one of the maids arranges a bouquet of sugarbushes. The Queen’s favorite flower.

“You thought you deserved more?” Rhaenyra’s voice is quiet.

“I did not think of it at all,” you fiddle with the lace on your sleeve. “I certainly didn’t expect to be offered up in payment for a debt, but even after Grandsire betrothed us... I didn’t realize, not until now, how oppressive it would feel. Like my life is ending; that after this evening I will never have a chance to see the world outside this Keep again.”

Rhaenyra’s mouth turns down, and she reaches up once more to cradle your cheek, pecking it three times.

“I understand,” your mother sighs. “When I was your age, the prospect of marriage, of motherhood, it was stifling, overwhelming. Terrifying, actually, after how I lost mine own mother. I avoided it with every ounce of will I possessed. But…”

She trails off, looking rather misty, and it shocks you, for your mother is in turns proud, stern, warm, jubilant, defiant, but rarely weepy. She turns away from you, her voice low.

“The moment you and Jacaerys were placed in my arms was the greatest of my life. I - I cannot - there are not even words that I can lend to describe it.”

Her emotion discomfits you, and you cast your eyes around her chambers. The old ones from your youth. They have been cleared of all of your old toys, redecorated in various shades of Hightower green.

Your mother follows your gaze before speaking again. “Motherhood - that which I feared the most... my love, you and your brothers are my greatest joys. And you - you have a warm heart. Any child you have - regardless of who sires them - they will make your world far larger, I am sure of it.”

You nod, despite still feeling unsure; though, to be fair, you are always unsure, and it is hard to imagine your mother being afraid of anything.

Your mother rode a dragon for the first time at age seven; you yourself had a dragon hatch in your cradle, and yet you have always preferred your feet planted firmly on the ground, leaving Mhyrax to take riderless to the skies.

“Do you-” your mother interrupts herself, clearing her throat. “Do you know what to expect tonight? I don’t - I wouldn’t wish for you to be surprised, or uncomfortable….”

You blush slightly, looking down. “Gods, Mother, you sound like a septa. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Rhaenyra chuckles lightly, before frowning once more. “I’m sure you will, my girl. It’s only,” she takes a deep breath, and your stomach sinks. “The King has commanded a viewing of your bedding.”

You pinch your neck with how quickly you snap your gaze back to your mother’s.

“A what?”

Rhaenyra blanches. “They were more common in the days of the Conqueror, to ensure consummation, prevent annulments, but I fear my father believes the Queen may also try to undermine your union, as he believes Daemon and I have-”

“How long have you known?” you interrupt, and that she does not immediately reply makes your blood boil. “Mother!”

“I did not wish for you to dwell over that which you had no control - I know how you worry-”

You are shrill. “How long?”

“Since we arrived,” your mother admits.

“Who?”

Once more, Rhaenyra begins fiddling with her rings. “The King, the Queen, the Grand Maester, the High Septon was meant to attend, but he is too frail, so Septon Eustace-”

“You?”

“Would you like that?”

You hesitate, unsure if it would be better or worse.

You think of your twin. Jacaerys would find it uncomfortable, to be sure, but he would likely pinch the bridge of his nose, shrug it off, and give them a show. He certainly wouldn’t make Mother endure his discomfort.

“No,” you say.

“You will have ladies to attend to you,” Rhaenyra says, and her dry tone hardly makes it sound reassuring. “The Queen has apparently hand-selected them.”

You narrow your eyes at her. If Alicent has chosen your ladies, they are certain to be uninspiring. Your mother purses her lips, rolling her eyes. “A great honor,” she finishes.

“Oh, delightful,” you groan. “They can gather around my marriage bed and say prayers for my discarded maidenhead.”

Rhaenyra laughs aloud at this, and you chuckle too, only remembering the pit in your stomach as your mirth subsides.

“It’s only - I am very afraid,” you murmur. “I wish I could be brave like you.”

Your mother purses her lips and angles her chin down, her eyes bright. “I know that you are too wise to mistake bravery for the absence of fear.”

“Very cowardly, then,” you say, your stomach roiling.

Your mother gives you a small smile. “I have yet to know a coward who jests over her fears.”

The door opens, and your aunt’s head peeks around, her brow raising slightly as she takes you in. Her silver hair has been braided away from her face, and she wears a dress of an earthy green.

“Princess Helaena,” your mother sighs.

Helaena is paler than usual. There are whispers that Prince Aegon has put another child in her, but it is as yet confirmed, and there is not enough closeness between your two sides of the family to make delicate inquiries.

You try to inspect her midriff, curious, intrigued. This is your fate, after all.

“It is time,” she says softly, and behind her, you see your cousin, the Lady Rhaena. The closest thing you’ve had to a sister on Dragonstone these last years, she gives you a reassuring smile. Together, they will carry your train.

You feel dizzy. Your mother will ride with the King, the Queen, and the rest of her siblings in one wheelhouse. Daemon, who will be removing your maiden’s cloak, will be accompanying you to the Sept.

You glance to the corner of the room, where the sea green cape rests, the delicate silver embroidered seahorses shimmering in the sunlight that streams in from your solar. Helaena follows your gaze.

“The seahorse trips the light, and the dragon is set aflight,” she murmurs, before glancing back towards you. “You look nice, in your dress.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Warmth is not what you expected.

“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice cuts severs the nice moment like Dark Sister. She yanks the cloak up and drapes it over your shoulders, pulling your curls forward over your shoulders, ensuring all of the front tendrils of your hair remain twisted in your tiara. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you repeat, and then she is embracing you, pressing three small kisses to your brow. You stare at her in agony as she releases you.

Helaena moves from the doorway so that you may pass through, your heart pounding, your head spinning.

You know not where to look as you approach the grand staircase of Maegor’s Holdfast; you are terrified that you will trip, and walk with exceptional slowness. It is quiet in the Keep, and you know that the courtiers must already be at the Sept; your footsteps echo, as do those of your mother, and Rhaena and Helaena’s too, trailing behind you as they silently carry the corners of your cloak.

You fear that you need the privy, and you do your best to allay your own worry without giving voice to it - who has ever heard of a bride announcing she may shit herself on her wedding day?

Once beyond the steps, it is easy enough to reach the main gates where the wheelhouses wait. There: your stepfather, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he speaks idly with the King.

Your grandsire is more emaciated than ever, his flesh disappearing. You hate looking at him; you hate the knowledge that this can happen to a body, that this could happen to your body. Your mind grapples with what he may have possibly done to bring this affliction upon himself.

Still, Viserys smiles as he sees you, even as the queen glances you over, her nostrils flaring slightly as if you have brought a terrible smell from the Holdfast. You drop into a curtsy as you reach them. Aegon, standing as far from his mother as he can while still looking decorous, sways slightly and scowls. Helaena drops your cloak and moves to stand by him, her hand smoothing the front of her gown.

“Granddaughter,” the King says. You stand, looking upon his pockmarked face. “What cause for celebration. To see this rift within our family finally healed.”

Alicent scoffs at this before turning away.

You nod, attempting to look gracious, or at the very least like you’re not about to be sick on your own shoes.

Daemon steps forward, opening the door to the wheelhouse and looking at you expectantly, a small smile playing on his own features. You clamber inside, his hand offered in aid, and then you are seated, your mother and Rhaena folding your cloak gently around you, the latter pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Daemon sits across from you, crossing his legs at the ankle and stretching as the wheelhouse lurches into motion, the smell of the city soon reaching your nose. You grasp for your pomander.

“How did you spend so much time with the City Watch?” You immediately regret breaking the silence.

It is not an uneasy one; you are often in Daemon’s company, and you often speak little. He is not necessarily terrifying, he is too warm to your mother to be so, but it is clear you are dear to him not for yourself, but only as an extension of her. You have never felt like an actual person to Daemon Targaryen, let alone a daughter - not the way you did with your own sire, Ser Laenor.

Not like you did with Ser Harwin Strong, your mind voices treasonously.

Daemon shrugs, chuckles lightly, and then pulls the screen away from the grated window, gazing out to Flea Bottom.

You reach the Sept in little time, and as the wheelhouse door is pulled open and sunlight pours in, you see your new ladies tittering anxiously before the stairs.

Daemon looks at you again, a small grin playing at his countenance, before he steps down from the carriage and offers you his hand.

You climb out with as much dignity as you can muster, releasing Daemon’s grip as soon as you can, and then grasping the cuff of his doublet when he offers it to you. Your handmaidens, still whispering among themselves, form around you, two of the older ones taking over the handling of your cloak.

The sun is reaching the center of the sky behind the Sept, and it is momentarily blinding, but as you blink you see the High Septon, so stooped and frail he looks as though a strong breeze may carry him away, flanked by the Hand of the King.

You feel Otto Hightower and Daemon sizing each other up, and try your best to bear it little mind. You move fluidly up the steps, and realize the finality of this moment; the last threshold you will cross an unwed woman.

You nearly laugh as you walk through the Sept, trying to ignore the courtiers flocking the aisle, and approach Aemond. He stands with his hands crossed behind his back, his stance profoundly, obnoxiously wide.

Who could he be squaring up against at this moment? The world was Aemond’s enemy, and yet here, before the altar in his leather doublet, it looks as though he is willing to fight the very gods.

Daemon is casual, caustic, as he deposits you at the Septon’s feet with little regard for your dignity; you stumble slightly as he tugs the Velaryon cloak from your shoulders.

It is impossible to find an adequate place to divert your attention. Aemond stares at you with freakish regard; you wonder how someone with naught but one eye can go unblinking for so long.

The High Septon is enough infirm that he can barely speak; your hand grows sweaty in your uncle’s as he clasps it tightly. You look over his shoulder.

Viserys is smiling in his familiar, dotard way, though your mother would have your hide for considering it such. Alicent scowls. Daeron has but a mild expression on his face, and Aegon and Helaena look akin in their misery. You wonder what expressions your mother and brothers share behind you.

Jace.

He had been livid at the news of your betrothal. Not willing to blame the King, believing, for his own sake as much as any others, that a King’s word is inherently just, he had fought with Lucerys at first, saying that you would’ve never been traded away had he not been so foolish as to maul Aemond.

Luke had stammered that he was merely defending Jace’s life when he took Aemond’s eye, that, in fact, Jace should be grateful.

No one, neither of your brothers, nor your cousins, had guessed that you would be the price to pay for Luke’s impulsivity.

The boys had mended their bond soon enough, but neither knew what to do with you.

You had hardly known what to do with yourself. You grew up on Dragonstone with the lot of them, on eternally borrowed time.

The Septon finally pauses, and you and Aemond murmur the words to one another; those that you have heard a thousand times, as the ribbon is wound around your wrists, about you being his possession, and bafflingly, him being yours. He sweeps his cloak over you. It itches.

And then his mouth, pursed and muscled and hesitant, is on yours, and bizarrely you find yourself thinking of Queen Alicent, and what guidance she offered to this boyish man, or mannish boy, to reassure him, for he must find himself as unwitting and unwilling as you.

Your heart is filled with anguish and you can only gape at him as he pulls back, his face angular and cruel and determined as he shakes his head slightly and looks away.

The Septon proclaims you man and wife, and the ribbons are unwound, and you wish you could turn, turn to look at anything that isn’t Aemond’s family, all clutching their bodices and picking at their doublets.

You and Aemond leave the dais side-by-side, not touching, not speaking, and make your way to the wheelhouse, where you spend another brutal part of an hour not speaking or touching.

The feast is grand, and Jace and Luke, to their credit, swap chairs and swivel around aunts and uncles to reach you, doing their best to make it better for you. Your mind can hardly think of anything but the bedding.

The mechanics are clear; Aemond will put himself inside of you. Likely, it will hurt. Children will result. They may kill you in their efforts to get out. Luke sniggers at something and you are seized with the urge to slap him.

“Do you think he removes the patch when he’s with a woman?” Jace asks Luke.

“Oh, shut up,” you say, reaching for your goblet for the umpteenth time and taking a hearty swig. You glance to your mother, who has spent most of the evening deep in conversation with Daemon.

“Have you heard what he keeps under there?”

You glance from Rhaenyra to Alicent, who reclines in her chair, scowling eternally, before you process your brother’s question. You bristle. “Shut up, Jace!”

Luke is pale as he glances towards Aemond, who has moved down the table to speak quietly with Helaena. “Mayhaps it’s best we don’t discuss it-”

“Do you think the troubadours will play the Ballad of Simeon Star Eyes if we asked?”

You groan. “Do NOT, Jace!”

“Why not?”

“It’s my nameday,” you grumble, drunk. “You have to do as I say.”

Luke laughs aloud. “What?”

“It’s not your nameday, crazy girl,” Jace is guffawing. “It’s your wedding day.”

“Who cares? I hate that song.”

Your twin brushes against you as he stands and leans forwards, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “What would you prefer? We can dance.”

Before you can think to answer, Jasper Wylde stands, looking right at you as he shouts: “We’ve had the wedding! Now let us see the bedding!”

Jeers break out from across the hall. Noble ladies dressed in the off-shoulder florals of the Reach swarm your husband, while the man they call Ironrod charges the head table.

You look to Jace, startled, but he merely shrugs, and then you scan the room for your mother, whose mouth is open as she regards you being lifted onto the shoulders of the realm's Lords.

“You are in luck, Princess!” Jason Lannister cries. “You need not two eyes to know where to stick your cock!”

You look across your torso at your bobbing slippers, nearly falling off your feet over the shoulders of the lords, just in time to see a ringed hand, one you can tell belongs to a Tully based on the fish embossed upon the signet, rip your bodice from your breast.

You cry out and are met with a burst of laughter; you flail wildly, hoping that mayhaps you might even slip from their arms as they turn a corner. You look back to the hall and are surprised to see Aegon staring at you solemnly as he leans in the doorway.

The apartments you and Aemond have been gifted are humble, standard fare for a second son of the Realm, and therefore on one of the lowest levels of Maegor’s Holdfast. The Lords jape and jest all the way to the bed, tearing at your gown until you are left in the shift that covers barely your breasts and sex, and deposit you as such.

You scramble up to the head of the bed as the men leave, and suddenly you are confronted with an open door from which the Grand Maester, the Hand, and Septon Eustace leer at you.

“What is happening?” you slur, drunk.

The Queen enters the room and sighs as if this is some great struggle for her, before looking at you. “The bedding, dear.”

There is a great clanking and Sers Arryk and Erryk are guiding the King into the chamber now. You are struck with the realization that this bed, the headboard of which you cling to in the filmiest of linens, is where you are meant to sleep every night from here until you pass into the embrace of the stranger. Your stomach roils once more.

You glance around the room. The furnishings are dark, rich, damask. An honor. It has been beautifully kept. There will be a solar adjoining, and rooms for Aemond. A bureau, perhaps. Rooms for children who outgrow the nursery. You glance around wildly as Grand Maester Orwyle approaches you.

“Princess?” he asks.

You turn towards him, your drunken gaze fixed in question. From near the doorway, the Queen clears her throat.

“You must be examined, Princess,” she says, her tone edgy and clipped. “For virtue.”

The wine dulls your reaction to this, thankfully, while also making your head twist unevenly as you try to understand. “By the Maester?”

The Queen nods.

“Oh.”

“It will be brief,” Orwyle explains. “But your…. Princess, your positioning is not conducive. I would see - I would see you supine with your legs spread.”

In the haze of your intoxication, you are forced to look down at your squatted limbs. One of your feet is pressed to a bolster pillow. Your toes look unnatural, like something belonging to another's body. You swear you were wearing slippers in the hall.

You look back to the Maester, huffing so that your hair billows from your face. You debate telling him how frightened you are. The maester on Dragonstone, Gerardys, is a gentle man, always offering sageness and wisdom in your bodily qualms. This Orwyle does not seem as amenable.

You release your grip on the headboard, the carvings imprinted on your palms as you grip at the hem of your shift and pull it down towards your knees. You sidle yourself past the pillows and press your rear into the mattress, sliding your heels down towards the footboard and spreading them slightly. The Grand Maester nods, approaching the bed so that he made sit with his boots planted on the flagstones as he places one hand on your knee and reaches another beneath your skirts.

His touch is cold. You flinch as it seeks, objective and uncaring in its pursuance. You grit your teeth, fingers flexing, air pushing from your nostrils. You glance over his shoulder towards the Queen, unabashedly seeking sympathy.

It is the King’s doleful gaze where you find it.

“I would examine her thoroughly, Grand Maester,” the Queen says, her mouth turned downwards. “She was late to bleed; if she is barren we’d be better to learn of it now; an annulment will be more difficult to procure after the consummation.” Beside her, the Septon nods solemnly.

You grimace. You were, in fact, not late to bleed at all - you bled at three-and-ten like most healthy girls of your station. Your mother managed to hide the fact from the King for several years, until six moons past, when your grandsire threatened to send the Grand Maester to examine you for signs of infertility - word was sent to King’s Landing within the fortnight that you had miraculously flowered.

“Try to relax, Princess,” the Grand Maester says from between your legs, prodding a bit. You clench harder in response, and the man sighs, pulling back.

“I see no reason why the consummation should not take place. The Princess appears intact.”

The King nods, sinking into his chair bedside the Queen, Ser Criston and the Septon lingering behind them. Two servants walk in carrying a screen, and you stay where you are, further reclined on the bed.

Aemond follows them, looking as profoundly abused as you feel. You crane your neck to view him, and then decide it will cause you little comfort and naught but a crick.

You lie back, fists clenched at your sides, as your husband comes to stand at the end of the bed. Someone behind the screen coughs.

You try to look anywhere but at Aemond, who kneels on the bed, crawling the few paces towards you. He moves slowly, and when you glance back to see how much space still stretches between you, you are mortified to see the look of utter revulsion in his eye.

He turns away, his long hair creating a sheet between you both, and spits into his hand, shoving it under his billowing shirt.

You watch in a combination of horror and fascination as his arm moves, his hair shuddering with the motion, and when he turns back you can see his cock jutting towards you from under the hem of his shirt. You swallow audibly as he crawls forward, so that he looms over you, for there is no mistaking that he is huge, and you are not convinced whatsoever that he will fit inside you with no small amount of discomfort.

You slide further onto your back as Aemond places one hand on either side of you, his elbows extended as far as they will go so that it is only his hips brush tentatively against your thighs. His shirt falls over you, and you suck in your stomach in avoidance.

Aemond hovers, his hair creating a shield as he turns to the right and grasps himself once more. You swallow, sweat beading on your forehead as you register little but the brush of his muslin shirt against your arms and chest.

He shudders as he sinks heavily; his chest presses into yours and you are pushed down into the mattress, fixing your gaze on the scar that hovers inches above your face.

His teeth grit as you feel first his clenched fist against you, then the dull, throbbing heat of him as he presses against your entrance.

First it stings, and then it pinches, and then you’re gasping, trying to angle your hips to accommodate something that feels endlessly foreign.

You wish he would stop moving for a moment; give you a chance to adjust to a level of discomfort that you could at least stomach, but he keeps pressing forward, forcing you to screw your eyes closed and breathe out through your nose to avoid crying out.

Everything about his presence feels intrusive; Jace once described this act as natural, and you couldn’t think of a more inaccurate description.

Aemond begins breathing heavily as he draws back, providing you with momentarily relief before he invades again.

You can hear more heavy breathing, not Aemond's, behind the screen and you open your eyes, trying desperately to find anything to focus on beyond the dull weight of your uncle above you or the rattling, wheezing, musty respiration of your grandsire to your right.

The bookshelves to the left of your bed are full; they must be Aemond’s, you think wildly as he presses into you again.

You clench in a horrifying, miserable, unwilling response. His shirt covers your face; you cannot see for a moment, cannot breathe. You groan, not in pleasure, but in anguish, and close your eyes once more.

Someone in the room coughs.

Aemond snaps his hips forward, and the angle he hits within you causes your whole body to spasm in response; the discomfort abates for a moment and you gasp, your hands reaching out and groping blindly at Aemond's shoulders. He flinches, you can feel it beneath your palms and within you, and you move your arms back to your sides.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your eyes still pressed closed.

Aemond releases a sharp breath through his nose, and then picks up his pace, hammering into you relentlessly. It sears horribly.

You try to focus on breathing, but it is hard to muffle the whimpers that slide from your lips as Aemond grunts softly above you.

Finally, after what feels like hours, your husband releases a great huff of air that pushes your hair from your face as he stills above you. This is followed by a groan, not audible, but felt as he trembles slightly, and then the throb of him as you are flooded with warmth. Aemond pulls from you, the sticky gush of his seed following him, and you feel the weight of the bed shift as he steps to the floor.

You open your eyes slowly to see him looming above you, his singular eye fixed on the spot between your legs, an inscrutable expression on his face. You blush, moving to clench your knees together, but before you can Aemond reaches forward and grasps the sheet, tearing it from beneath you with a harsh rip that echoes through the otherwise silent chamber.

He pulls away, and you see the red spots of your blood marring the white linen as it dangles from his grip.

You sit up slightly, trying to ignore the sticky warmth dripping from your sex. You watch Aemond, his legs long and muscular beneath the hem of his shirt as he walks to the screen, pulling it back to reveal the audience behind. You grip the bottom of your shift and drag it down so that it covers you.

“It is done,” he says, holding up the bloodied sheet before tossing it at one of the maidservants lingering near the doorway. She catches it and scampers, the door clanging shut behind her. “You may see yourselves out.”

The Septon clears his throat. “There will need to be another examination of the Prin-”

“It is done,” Aemond interrupts, even as he turns and stalks off towards the doorway in the corner, his voice echoing behind him. “I wish to bathe; you may leave.”

The King sighs before attempting to stand. You are still lying supine as two Kingsguard rush forward, grasping him by his elbows. The Queen rises, throwing you a look made of pity and disdain before sweeping her skirts towards the antechamber into which Aemond disappeared.

The door creaks open, and a small parade of pubescent girls rush forward, eagerly dodging the screen that the pages carry from the rooms that are, from this moment, to be yours.

One of the girls, with ears so large she can be nothing but a Florent, comes to your bedside and takes your hand.

“Oh, Princess,” she sighs daintily as you gape. “The Queen sent for us; your husband has taken your innocence, as the Seven require of him, but we will pray to the Father for his glory, and your continued virtue, and mayhaps the Mother will give you a child.”

Drunk still, you scoff slightly even as the indignity of Aemond’s seed drips from you. The Florent girl gives her companions a look, and they flock to you.

“A child,” one of them smiles at you. “Can you imagine anything more lovely?”

Another one, dull in only the ways that a Tarly can be, places her palms out even as her eyes well tragically with tears. “We have yet to pray to the Maiden for her lost virginity.”

You giggle at that, and even as your new ladies look upon you, scandalized, you think of your mother and laugh abruptly aloud.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Keep Reading on AO3: 2. Farewells 3. Young Blood 4. Visitors 5. Breech 6. Aemos 7. Moderation 8. Sapphire 9. Whispers 10. Blight 11. Stitches 12. The Lord of the Tides 13. Aeyla 14. Shield 15. Interlude - Storm's End 16. Luke 17. Sanguine 18. Ascending 19. Guilt 20. Wrath 21. Rook's Rest 22. Prince Regent 23. Jace 24. Fall 25. The Black Queen 26. Interlude - Alys Rivers 27. Ashes of Roses 28. Heirs 29. Mhyrax 30. God's Eye 31. Interlude - Strong 32. Unconditional 33. Ivy Inn 34. Second of His Name 35. Dragonstone 36. Home 37. Alys 38. The Hour of the Wolf 39. The House of the Dragon 40. Epilogue - The Dragon in Winter

#house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfic

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fish145 · 4 days ago

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dutiful evenings

Aemond Targaryen x Arryn wife!Reader

Summary: after drifting apart suddenly, you started hating your husband. now bound only by duty, he must bed you until you fall pregnant with his child. but feeling are difficult and unpredictable, and all consuming.

Warnings: arguing over nothing, PinV, unprotected sex (this is fiction, use protection), enemies to lovers (?), table sex, bathtub sex, tiddy sucking and pinching, fingering, groping, creampiessssssssss, bit of dirty talk, idk i prob missing some things

4.7K

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You and Aemond’s wedding had been grand. Married to an Arryn, a great ally and an even prettier lady. He did his duty, as expected, but he supposed your loveliness did help.

But just three weeks after the wedding, Aemond started pulling back. He would claim he was too busy for you, that training and studying and matters of state were taking up all of his time. But when you saw him sometimes just walking around the Red Keep, or sitting in the library reading a book you knew he had finished before, things started going downhill.

You had commented on it, which in turn made him defensive.

“Why can’t you just spend one night with me?” you had complained. Aemond just shook his head, sighing as if you had said one of the stupidest things he had ever heard.

“You married a prince of the realm,” he replied coolly, “you must realise that I am a busy man.”

Argument after argument followed, completely tearing you two apart. You moved into separate bedchambers, avoiding him for an entire week when your septa calmly reminded you of your duties.

So you found yourself face to face with your husband again, making up rules so you could become with child. You would try for a babe, in the best case scenario every single evening. During the week both of you could deny the other once, some sort of veto.

It was crude in a way, having to make these rules together just so you could become pregnant, but it was important. He needed--wanted--an heir. And it was your duty to give him one.

At least you didn't need to be near him afterwards.

Dinner that evening was awfully quiet again. You were both seated at the grand table, almost a comical distance between you two. You ate silently, gritting your teeth when you heard his knife scrape obnoxiously loud against his plate. You looked up to stare at him, his lone gaze focused on cutting the meat on his plate.

“Well? You won’t even talk to me this eve?” you said annoyed, finally breaking the heavy silence between you both.

Aemond sighed deeply, glancing up at you from his meal. “What is there to discuss?” he asked drily, setting his cutlery back down. “The weather? The state of the realm? We have already exhausted all of these… pleasant topics already.”

His words were sarcastic, more barbed than he probably intended. He was growing tired of the bickering, of having the same argument every single night. Yet he never backed down.

You scoff, looking into your husband’s eye. “Have we already?” you replied, “Funny, I do not recall you even speaking to me today.”

There was a challenge in your eyes, a clear invitation for him to dare rebuke you. Aemond was quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his wine. He clearly needed it to steady himself.

He finally looked back at you, regarding you with his one eye. “You know my duties keep me busy during the day,” he replied, his finger tracing the rim of his cup.

“What would you have me do? Hover over your shoulder from dawn to dusk? I think you have made your desire for space abundantly clear.”

His voice was steady, confident. Though inwards, he sometimes wondered if distance was truly what you desired. He remembered the honeymoon as if it was yesterday, remembered the way you had smiled at him.

One look at you made reality crash down on him. His marriage was proving more difficult than tactics of war, but his pride would never allow him to show any weakness in front of you. Especially now, when you were acting up again.

Your eyes had narrowed at his words, anger bubbling hot and ugly inside of you.

“Have I really?” you replied to him, your chair scraping loudly when you stood up. You walked over to where he was sitting, his eye following your every move with caution. “Because I remember it very differently,” you spoke as you walked.

“I believe it was you who shrugged me off a mere three weeks after our wedding, avoiding me as if I were a disease.”

You stood in front of him, glaring daggers. “Don't you dare blame me.”

Aemond met your glare boldly, even though he felt a bit of unease at the truth of your words. He had started avoiding you, your touch stirring up things in him he had never felt before, and it had shaken him to the core. He took a deep breath.

“I did what I thought best at the time,” he replied calmly, “married you out of duty instead of desire, as is the lot of our kind-”

“So you do not desire me?” you said, cutting his words off. “Is that what you are saying?”

He stared at you, his frustration mounting. “You know that is not what I meant,” he almost hissed,” I am saying that desire and duty are two different things, as you surely must know.”

His anger was bubbling just beneath the surface, his fiery gaze meeting yours.

“All I wanted to do was fulfill my duties to my house,” he started, working hard to keep his voice measured. “Yet every single word coming from you is picking me apart-- criticising my every move, acting as if everything I do is to wrong you personally.”

He stood up himself, towering over you. “Do you despise me so? Or only wish to?”

You stared up at him, seeing the fire in his one eye. “I have tried my best to be a good husband to you,” he murmured, “to understand you, to listen to you-”

You just laughed drily, shaking your head. “Understand me? You have never tried to understand me.”

You didn’t back away, jotting a finger into the leather of his tunic. “You,” you hissed, “are what ruined this union.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, grabbing your wrist tightly in his hand. His patience was coming to an end.

“Don’t you dare…” he warned you. “From the moment we wed, you have done nothing but scorn me. Nothing is ever good for you, is it? Not even the title of princess.”

“It was never about the title for me-!” you tried to retaliate, but his voice was already raising.

“I should have known a lady like you would never be pleased. I am still your prince, and you will show me respect.”

He tightened his hold on your wrist, his face hovering inches from yours. A heavy silence fell between the both of you, only the crackling of the fire being heard.

You swallowed heavily as you stared up at him. You wanted to stay angry, to shout more at him, but you didn’t.

“So you wish to veto this night?” you said simply, your gaze meeting his. You saw his one eye widen almost imperceptibly, the reminder of your duties almost making the rage draining away, making space for something else.

Beneath the anger and frustration, he still felt a spark of… attraction for his wife in name alone. He stared at you for a moment, noticing your pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of your throat.

He let go of your wrist, instead tilting your face up towards his.

“No,” he said, “I do not. Do you, however, wish to deny me again?”

Your eyes narrow at his fighting words, him clearly trying to get a rise out of you. You almost bite, wanting to say you haven’t denied him in a week’s time. But actions speak louder than words.

You tug him closer by his tunic, smashing your lips against his. Aemond recovered quickly, kissing you back just as fiercely. His hands grab at your waist, pressing you back against the dining table and sending dishes clattering everywhere.

His lips move down to your throat, kissing and licking and biting. He savors your taste, your moans, his hands eagerly tugging up the seemingly hundred layers of your skirts.

His hands found your soft thighs, grazing and squeezing the skin. He paused for a moment, taking in your dilated pupils, the way your lips were parted.

“What?” you hissed out when he stopped for a split second, making him growl in annoyance at your bratty tone.

He moved quicker now, lifting your skirts fully up and pressing you further down onto the table. The moment he started spreading your thighs wide for him and fumbling with his belt, the servants started scattering out of the dining hall. Both of your knights closed the heavy doors of the dining hall to give you both some privacy, looking awkwardly away as they kept hearing moans and more plates falling down.

Aemond kissed you again, silencing any further snide comments you may wished to say. He had no more patience for arguments tonight, not when your thighs were spread for him and he could see how the fabric of your smallclothes were soaked.

Both you and Aemond hadn’t noticed the servants fleeing the scene, both of you too focused on Aemond slipping his fingers down and pushing your underwear to the side.

“You’re awfully wet for an angry woman, princess..” he purred, making you glare at him.

“You talk too much for a man in front of a soaked cunt, my prince-” you retaliated, making him angrily shove his breeches down. He stroked himself twice, then slid inside of your heat.

Your head fell back, the stretch making you moan and gasp. Aemond hissed when he finally bottomed out in your slick heat, his lips and teeth finding the tops of your breasts peeking out from your gown.

He moved slowly at first, pulling out until just his tip was left inside of you, before slamming back in. Every single moan that left your lips inflated his ego, made him feel like the most powerful man in the realm.

He grabbed tighter onto your hips, his pace speeding up until he was hammering into you. The wooden table creaked under you, the spilled wine staining the expensive fabric of your dress, but all you could focus on was him.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down for another deep, sloppy kiss. “More,” you managed to pant out, Aemond’s lone eye boring into yours.

He leaned in for another deep kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth and sliding it against yours. He didn't say anything, just starting to fuck harder into you. He made you suck on two of his fingers, his eye watching eagerly as your cheeks hollowed wantonly around them.

He removed them with a pop, then slid the wet digits between your legs, rubbing harsh circles on your clit. You whined, your thighs started to shake and your hold on him tightening. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the dining room, his wet fingers against your cunt making obscene wet noises. Aemond groaned against your throat, his cock slamming into you.

Your moans grew higher in pitch, until finally, you came with a cry of his name. Aemond groaned deeply, his hips stilling deep inside you as he came.

You pant heavily, your eyes opening after a moment to see him already looking at you. He leaned down for a soft kiss, and you answered it slowly. It was soft, gentle, almost a glimpse into what could be, when you suddenly pulled your head back.

“Get off,” you said, eyes no longer meeting his. Aemond rolled his eyes, pulling his member out of you and straightening out his clothing. He watched you get off the table, a slight limp in your step which filled him with pride. He watched you straighten your dress out, not bothering to help.

“I will see you tomorrow eve,” you said dismissively, “maybe.”

And then you left the dining hall.

Aemond stared at your retreating figure, his earlier irritation flaring up again. Gods, you were insufferable. What man could endure such a wife without seeking pleasures elsewhere? Easy ones, silent ones.

He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as he poured himself a cup of wine. Annoying as you were, you were still his wife. And he was not his brother.

He was loyal. A dragon. And he would keep his vows, difficult as you may be.

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More days passed like this between you. Never talking during the day, and when you did, it was the usual bickering and complaining. In the evenings you would have each other, preferably anywhere but in bed. You couldn't even remember the last time you two had slept together in bed--probably before you started drifting apart.

It was already late, and your husband had missed dinner. You had been irritated, to say the least, but decided not to make a big deal out of it. You had a nice dinner alone, now actually having the time to enjoy the food.

Afterwards, you went to your bedchamber, undressing for the day.

“Where is he?” you asked your maid, the woman looking up.

“In his chambers, I believe, princess,” she replied, helping you undo the tight dress.

You just hummed, undressing completely before covering your now exposed skin with a cloak.

You just nodded once to your maid, before exiting the chamber and walking towards his.

You entered without knocking, walking through his larger chamber to where he was bathing. His eye was closed, his eyepatch removed.

“It is evening,” you said simply, the servant that had been readying his soaps nearly tripping over himself as he ran out.

Aemond’s one eye opened as you dropped your cloak to the floor, his gaze taking in your nudity.

“So it is,” he just murmured, watching as you stepped into the warm water, joining him. Silently he made more room for you, his hands finding your waist when you settled on top of him.

His eye was lidded as he watched you, your skin soft underneath his fingertips. You looked at him, too, noticing the tired look in his eyes.

You wanted to ask him about his day, about the hardships and the struggles that had seemingly made him so tired, but your voice caught in your throat.

So you just leaned in, kissing him deeply.

He met the kiss eagerly, his arms moving to encircle your waist. He pulled you closer, feeling the greediness in your kisses, your touches. The way your hands moved over his chest made him groan, water spilling out of the bathtub with your eager movements.

He easily lifted you up, positioning you above his heavy cock before thrusting up. You moaned at the stretch, both of you sitting still in the warm water.

He looked up at your face, a proud grin spreading on his lips when he saw the sheer bliss on your face. And then he started moving.

He slowly thrust up, reaching all sorts of spots inside of you. You mewled softly, grinding down on his cock with eager movements.

You looked perfect like this.

He leaned his head down, eagerly taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth grazed over one, and he swore he could feel you clench around his cock.

You rested your forehead against his, an electric feeling passing between you.

“Aemond,” you whispered, him just responding with a deep kiss. He held you close, thrusting harder into you, his bath nearly half empty now. He lifted a hand to squeeze your breast, pinching a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

“You get tighter when I do this,” he purred against your lips, and for once, you didn't have a sharp reply. You just moaned eagerly, starting to bounce harder on him.

“Wanna come,” you managed to pant out, and he immediately listened, moving his other hand between your legs.

He looked right into your eyes, not wanting to miss the bliss that would soon contort your face. He loved seeing you come, the sight of your pleasure making you look even more beautiful to him.

“Come,” he commanded against your lips, and his tone made you topple right over the edge.

He groaned deeply when he felt your wet, velvet walls clench around his cock, his own release hitting him like a brick. He thrust a final time into you, before his thick cum coated your insides.

“Fuck-” he gasped, your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He held you close as both of you came down from your high, the sloshing water slowly calming down around you.

And then there was a pleasant silence.

His arms wrapped back around your waist, keeping you close to him. And you rested against him, head buried in the crook of his neck.

His fingers traced random figures on your back, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be with you like this all the time. You fitted so perfectly in his arms, your body molding against his.

There were no cutting words, no barbed insults, just… tranquility.

You lifted your head up, your tired eyes meeting his. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a second too long.

Your eyes closed for a moment, before you gathered yourself. You moved off of him, feeling his soft cock slip out of you. You stood up in the bathtub, wobbling a bit before finding your footing and stepping out of the now cooled down water. You grabbed your cloak, not bothering to dry off.

“I…” you start, trying to read his expression, but unable to. “I must go. Perhaps I will… perhaps I'll see you soon.”

And then you left quickly, a knot in your stomach.

Aemond watched you leave, in no rush himself to exit the bath just yet. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew something in your heart had changed. The slightest crack in your tough exterior, the walls you had put up after his misdoings.

And he smiled.

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The next two days between you had been… odd, to say the least. You didn't argue as often, but that was mostly because you had started avoiding him all together. That last night between you, the soft kiss he had placed on your forehead afterwards, the way he had held you close…

It was confusing. It made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want it to. So the next two days had been vetoed. The first time by him, and the second time by you. And then the third day arrived.

You were still deeply asleep when your bedchamber door slammed open. You sat up groggily, eyes squinting against the morning light when you watched your husband storm in. you had never seen him in your bedchamber before, both of you sleeping in separate beds, but now…

“It is a new day,” he said, and before you could even register his words, he was already kissing you deeply.

All morning Aemond had been restless, the two days of barely seeing each other, him not even touching you once had driven him crazy.

He knew you both usually had your ‘duties’ planned in the evenings, but he couldn't wait. Not a second longer.

He parted from the kiss just long enough to look at you for a moment, noticing the way the slivers of sunlight that peeked behind the curtain played along your skin. The way your cheeks were still flushed and warm from sleep and the way your lips were slightly parted. You had a dazed look in your eyes, and he groaned before kissing you again, and again, and again.

His kisses were filled with passion and need, his tongue sliding against yours and his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. When he finally parted for air, he just stared at you.

“Say it,” he growled softly as his lips moved towards your throat, “say you want me. Say you need me.”

You were only able to moan, your hands sliding over his back, nails slightly digging into his skin.

“Say it,” he repeated as he pulled back to stare down at you, “admit you want this as much as I do, every waking moment. Just us--as the Gods intended.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, his claiming words making you anxious and aroused at the same time.

So you didn't answer.

“Undress,” you replied instead, and luckily he listened. You watched with eager eyes as he started undressing, taking his sweet time in teasing you. Inch by inch his skin was revealed, a smirk playing on his lips at the way you stared at him. When he was finally naked, his arousal already hard and heavy, he stared hungrily at your form dressed in only a thin nightshift.

He helped you out of it, drinking in every inch of skin now revealed.

And you were divine.

He threw the shift somewhere onto the floor, his gaze never leaving your body. He watched the way you were breathing heavily, your breasts rising and falling. He looked at your taut nipples, his hands moving on their own accord as they brushed over them. The softest mewl escaped you, making him pinch them for just a second before moving towards your abdomen.

Your skin was so soft, so warm from sleep, he had to press his lips against it. He pressed kisses around your navel, biting down on the soft flesh for a second.

“Say it,” he moaned again, moving back up your body until he was looking into your eyes. “I am yours, and yours alone.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, one you reciprocated eagerly. Your hands slid into his long hair, making him grind his cock against your thigh.

“Say you are mine, and nothing shall part us again.”

It all felt so different.

Being in an actual bed, the fact that it was morning, it felt so… domestic.

“Aemond-” you were barely able to whisper before his hands were on you again.

He groaned at the way you moaned his name, his control slipping further and further. You would be the death of him, and he would die a happy man.

Your eyes closed as his hand slid in between your thighs, his fingers gathering your slick before pressing deep inside.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. He slid them out to wrap his hand around his own aching cock, stroking himself a few times.

“You are mine now,” he said lowly, his tip teasing your entrance.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours!” you finally whine, your arms wrapping around his neck and your thighs around his waist. “I’m yours, only yours, please-”

Aemond just groaned at your words, sinking deep inside of you in one thrust. When he began to move, he made sure to set a slow, deep pace, wanting to savor every single little moment.

He gazed down at your face, watching the way your eyes were closing in pleasure, your lips glossy and parted from his eager kisses.

“Look at me,” he whispered again, his eye on yours when you opened them again.

He smiled, noticing the way your own lips curved up slightly as well.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, before expertly taking you over the edge with a few quick swipes of his thumb over your pearl. He groaned at the sensation, filling your womb up to the brim.

You were breathing heavily, your eyes lidded with pleasure and the lingering remnants of your sleep. You looked a mess, and he couldn’t get enough.

He slowly pulled out, watching with a sense of pride as his cum dripped out of you.

“Mine,” he whispered, holding you close. You could feel yourself beginning to drift off again, his lips pressing against your cheek, then your forehead.

You had never felt like this. This safe. This… loved. It was frightening.

Sleep finally took you, your body growing heavy in his arms. He looked down fondly at you, the early morning light making you look like an angel. He felt your warmth against him, heard the gentle sound of your breathing. He had never felt the domesticity, the rightness, of having a person he cared for so much safe in his arms.

But with you, it felt natural. It felt right. Like you were meant to be in his arms, now and always. And that thought sent a flicker of unease through him. He wasn't a man filled with tenderness, with gentleness, and yet… when he looked down at your sleeping face…

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You wake up some hours later, alone.

He had probably left to attend to his duties, yet you couldn't control the feeling of sadness overcoming you. You were supposed to be used to his lack of attention, should be thankful for it. But now, after what you had just shared… it felt wrong.

After getting ready for the day with the help of your maids, you go through the same motions of your everyday life, not seeing him anywhere. Until dinner.

He entered the dining hall after you were already seated, his gaze not meeting yours. He sat at his regular seat at the other end of the table, watching impassively as a servant filled up his wine cup.

The memory of you clinging onto him was still fresh on his mind, but he was good at not showing it. He yearned to hold you again, to make love to you until your body grew tired and you fell asleep in his arms again.

But things were still tense. And he didn't miss how you had struggled to say you were his, how he had to ask you time and time again just to say it.

It had been clear, he knew, that you weren’t his. Not really.

No words were spoken during dinner. And when the last course had been eaten, he got up. His eye finally caught yours, and in that split second, he felt everything.

He felt longing, and sadness, and love.

He nodded once, before exiting the dining hall in long strides.

You watched him leave in silence, rooted to the chair you were sitting on. Your hands fidgeted with your cup, your lower lip caught between your teeth, until you finally decided to rush after him.

You lifted your skirts, almost running out of the grand dining hall to try and catch up with him.

Only when you had rushed up the stairs, you saw him again. Aemond had halted when he heard light footsteps rushing towards him, turning to see you.

You were panting, clearly out of breath and something clearly bothering you.

He frowned, wondering if something had happened in the time he had left you alone, watching as you came to a halt in front of him.

Aemond reached out to touch your arm, his touch soft, sweet, gentle.

“What is it, my lady? You seem distraught.” he said gently, his brows furrowed.

“I love you,” you breathed out, your wide eyes staring into his. “I do not want rules and duties and obligations that tie our time together, I want you. I don’t want to argue, I don't want to sleep alone-”

You finally admitted the truth to him, your heart pounding. This was how you felt, the feeling overwhelming and consuming.

“I do not wish to hide it anymore. So if you truly despise me, tell me now and I shall never bother you again-”

You stared at your husband, trying to read his expression. You felt sick to your stomach, the silence stretching on and on.

Until he gently cupped your face in his warm hands, your name leaving his lips in a breathless whisper.

“You are my heart, the very blood in my veins,” he whispered against your lips, “and I could no sooner despise you than stop my own breath.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, his single eye closing. “I am yours,” he said again, “forevermore.”

He leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to your lips. You let out a choked sob, your arms wrapping tightly around him, scared as if he may leave.

He held you even closer, pressing kisses against your temple and cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered again.

“And I you, more.”

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lemonmoonmochi · 3 months ago

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Me and who?!

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connorsui · 10 months ago

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"How beautiful was she?"

"Was? ...please ..she is beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She is beautiful, for the way she thinks, She is beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks about anything she loves. She is beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She is beautiful, deep down to her soul ....

She is the love of my life"

The man: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, John Price, Jason Todd, Sam Winchester, Higuruma Hiromi, Halsin, Astarion Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, Levi Ackerman, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Rafayel, Cooper Howard, Logan Howlett, Aemond, Nikto,

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eraenaa · 4 months ago

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Chosen Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: Whore or more?

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Possessiveness, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, ¿Breeding Kink?, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 4,451

Prequels: Virginal Whore, Prince's Whore

“Will you please stop looking at my breasts?” You requested lowly as you had felt the lone gaze of Prince Aemond on your chest for the past few minutes. You two had been seated across each other in the seating room of his chambers. It was nearing both of your time of retirement, but you two had been preoccupied with the scrolls in your hands. His scrolls were filled with the progress of war and how many men they had left, and yours were filled with orders of the castle and what else was needed by the workers.

Though your entanglement with the prince began with you as his whore, it then progressed with you being an informal lady of the castle you two resided in the midst of war. You had gone from warming his bed, waiting for him at night when he sought release to the one who oversaw the goings-on in Harrenhall. Your duties were the same as your Lady mother's, tending to the keep and its staff, but your title was anything but. You were still the prince’s whore. Tasked to share his bed and be the reason for his pleasure, no matter if the other’s called you ‘lady,’ you believed you were too low and ruined for such a title.

“Have they grown?” The prince questioned as he discarded the letter he was reading. You frowned and lowered your gaze to your chest, which was covered in your shift. You turned to the prince and saw him already making his way to you, taking the empty space on the settee you sat upon. You took in a sharp breath as both of his hands unceremoniously took hold of both of your tits, assesing them. “They feel the same…” He muttered, and you could not help but hear a tone of disapproval. “Why should they change?” You questioned and grew conscious.

You locked eyes with the man who had brought you from the whore house and took you. Moons had passed since he had brought you to the castle in ruins, and it had been moons since you had given up on escaping him. Because whatever you did, you could not be freed of the shackles the prince had placed upon you. Besides, you had nowhere to go. Your father’s home was far from the Riverlands, and even if it were close, the prince had made the letter which stated you rebuked your house’s stance in the war, and you were certain your presence would no longer be welcomed.

You did not like to focus on the past and what had happened. It only placed a painful throb in your chest and tears in your eyes. Instead, you only tried to focus on the day that is to come— hoping that one day, all of this pain and trial would end.

“Nothing… I— I thought something had changed,” The prince muttered and slowly removed his hands from your tits. Leaving his mark as your nipples had pebbled and strained through the fabric of what you had worn. You pursed your lips and gave a small no d, not certain what to say.

“I… uh— the lords had been proposing a feast,” You suddenly say to the prince, trying to bring the subject away from your tits. “What for?” Aemond questioned as he moved his fingers to tuck in a stray lock of your hair. The fire light had illuminated your face so warmly and ethereally that he could not help but stare upon you at the moment instead of returning to his various scrolls. “Well, they wish to celebrate your victory in the god’s eye… they said it shall be good for morale.” You uttered, imparting the wishes of other lords.

“A feast?” The prince questioned, and you nodded. You hear him hum and use his fingers to caress your cheek. “Do you wish for a feast?” He questioned, his fingers tangling your hair, and he took in a lock and brought it to his nose to smell the scent of you further. “It matters not what I wish for,” You say and fiddled with the scroll in your hands. You watch as the prince raises his brow. “Yes or no, my lady. I shall let you decide.” The prince stated, and once again brought his touch to your skin.

“I cannot dictate such a thing… it is your approval or denial they seek, not mine.” You said. You watched as the prince’s face threaded closer, his gaze on your lips. “I know. But it is your opinion I seek, my lady.” Aemond stated as he began to place light feathered kisses upon your cheek and neck. You let out a breath, cursing yourself as desire was starting to bloom within even after all the times the prince had his way with you.

“I… I shall be fine with either, my prince.” You say, out of breath. His lips began to stray closer to yours, but he only placed his kisses on the side of your lips. A hum once again left his lips. “That is still not a definite decision, my lady. Yes or no… the decision is up to you.” Aemond stated and further more placed small kisses on your skin and let his hands roam your frame once more. He did not miss the wya you shuddered at his touch nor the gooseflesh that grew on your skin.

“The lords might take offence if they are denied.” You stated, “Who cares? If they shall give your trouble, you only to say, my lady, and I’ll gift you with their heads.” You took a sharp breath as the prince whispered in your ear and playfully nipped the lobe.

“I suppose it… It shall boost morale. The men seemed to be overtried.” You reasoned, feeling a bit of guilt as you had grown concerned for the opposition, but you thought that even if your views did not fully align, they were still men. They still feel. They were still human. And you could not help but feel pity as you see them struggling day to day. “So, a feast then?” The prince asked as he placed another mark on your neck, the one he placed last night still hadn’t faded and thought it needed a companion. To let everyone know you were his.

“I… I do not know. Could you please just the one to decide?” You asked, the prince’s hands once again on your tits and you pressed your legs togeher to surpress the desire that pooled between them. “No.” The prince said plainly, a smirk on his lips as he saw the blush on your cheeks and the glass in your eyes that often indicated to him that you were filled with desire.

“Decide, my lady. Yes or no?” Aemond pressed and lowered the sleeve of your shift to expose more of your soft skin. The prince watched as you bit your li through darkened eyes. “Yes or no. My lady? Decide.” He said, growing impatient as he wished to be absolved of the matter that plagued you so he could finally bed you. “Fine. Very well. They shall have their feast.” You connected, unable to bear the wanting bubbling inside you. It was shameful but else is to be expected when you were his whore?

“Good. But you shall not plan it alone. They had exhausted and worked you enough… do not try to deny it. I had seen it plainly.” The prince stated, and before you could protest, he placed his lips upon yours, and what you had wanted to say died on your tongue, and it’s grave the prince’s tongue danced with want.

You let out a shaky breath as his hand moved from holding your waist down to the hem of your shift and hiked up the skirt. “Always so ready and eager for me, my lady…” The prince hummed as his fingers traced your cunt. You whimpered as you felt him add pressure as his fingertip came into contact with your nubbin, swollen and calling for his attention.

You could not help but let out a moan, your head tilting back ever so lightly, but the prince was quick to dip forward and kiss your lips, unable to let space grow between the two of you. “You take my finger so well, my lady… I could never understand no matter how many nights I havehad you, your cunt is still so fucking tight.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core as he curled his fingers inside you, seeking out that spot that made your legs tremble and made you moan out his name so sweetly. His lips never strayed far, dragging along your jaw, nipping at your throat as he reveled in your whimpers.

Aemond could no longer restrain himself. You cried out in disappointment as he stole his fingers away and took the digits between his lips to taste you, just as he did every single night. You watched through hazy, lust-filled eyes as the prince took you in his arms and carried you to the bed. His movements were fast, desperate as he took off his clothing and positioned himself between your legs. He had a harsh hold on your thighs as he assesed you dripping cunt.

You took a sharp intake of breath as you feel him run the tip of his cock along your weeping slit, teasing you. “What do you want, my lady? Just say it, and it shall be yours.” Aemond smirked and watched as you once again struggled to admit what you wanted— what you needed. “Come now, just conceed— just as you had the night before… and before… and before.” Aemond taunted and watched as your brows furrow deeply as the tip of his cock continued to brush agaisnt the pearl of your cunt.

You let out a hopeless moan. “You— gods, I want you!” You cried in wanting and shame. And in your cries, the prince felt a surge of further pleasure. "You clench around me so sweetly, my lady,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, his lips hovering just above yours. "Like you never want me to leave.” He smirked as a moan left your lips, and he took that as your agreement. “Perhaps you never do… No matter what act you throw at me, I know perfectly what you want— who you need. And it is me, my lady. It shall always be me.” Aemond gritted as your cunt clenched further, your release coming quickly as he had denied you of pleasure earlier. “You’re never leaving me… you’re mine.”

You try to shake your head, but the sensation of your peak coming over you had muddled your senses, and all you could do was cling to the prince and let him kiss your lips as he spilled his seed deep inside your cunt.

“You’re mine. Say it.” Aemond panted as he collapsed atop your frame. Your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, plump lips parted, and cheeks scarlet. You let out heavy breaths, wanting to deny him with words, but as you stared upon his lilac eyes, you could not help but succumb. “I’m yours.” The prince let out a satisfied hum and kissed your lips once more before reluctantly moving to clean the mess that two of you had made so you could finally acquire much-needed respite.

“My lady… the prince and your meal waits for you in your chambers.” A maid said, as you had been busy overseeing the preparations for the feast. “Could you tell him I shall be there momentarily? He can begin eating; I shall take a moment.” You say, as your attention was caught by the other squires who began to decorate the hall that was still in ruins. You had no idea how a feast could be celebrated here. And you could only pray to each god that it would no longer rain as all the guests would be drenched and your efforts would be wasted.

“He refuses to eat until you come, my lady,” The maid said, and you let out an aggravated sigh. “Very well, see to it that they hand that banner higher… and do not let any wilted flowers be placed on the vases,” You said, and the maid fervently nodded as you hastily ventured towards the prince’s chambers.

“I have told you not to bother yourself with the preparations.” Those were the first words that greeted you as you entered the chambers. The prince sat before the various dishes that were untouched as he had waited for you. “You should have begun eating; your food is growing cold, my prince.” You instead said, as you did not wish to entertain the quarrel that the prince was starting to begin.

“I have called for you, but you had denied me,” Aemond stated, growing angry as you had brushed him off because your concern lay with the preparations. Before, when he asked for your presence, you would be quick to come to his side. “Apologies, my prince. It shall not happen again… it is only that I was assisting them in the pr—“

“I have told you that you need not be the one to prepare the feast! You are exhausting yourself!” The prince seethed, and you clutched on tightly at the back of a chair. “I… I am fine, your highness.” You say, though you knew whatever word you uttered would be moot and would not lessen the fiery anger inside the prince. “No, you are not. You should not be tired— it is not good for your countenance nor the babe’s!”

You sighed and were ready to speak, but as you realized what he said, your lips parted in confusion. “The babe?” You questioned and watched as the prince pursed his lips. “But I am not pregnant, your highness.” You explained and felt your hands grow cold. “Precisely. How could you be pregnant when you constantly exhaust yourself?”

Confusion consumed your system, and you had to take a seat as you tried to figure out what the prince asked of you. “What…. what—“ you try to speak, but your words elude you. “I want an heir.” The prince stated. You looked upon him blankly, not certain if he was intoxicated or if you were deluded with tiredness. “You want an heir…with… me?” You questioned slowly and felt a pool of dread come to your stomach. “Have I not made it quite obvious?” The prince scoffed as he realized that his actions were not taken clearly.

He had been wondering why, after all these moons, his seed was not taking. He had been impatient to see you swollen with his babe, and that was the reason why he fretted you exhausting yourself. Now he realized that you had no plan to give him the heir he wanted and been using measures to make certain you would not grow with child.

“But I am in no station to bear you an heir. I am just your whore.” You say and tear slowly trickled in your system as the prince’s hand clenched around his chalice, and he stood to go over where you sat. You watched through apprehension as the prince knelt before where you sat, and his hand cupped your cheek. “You are a lady. A lady who has the blood of old Valyria in her veins. And you, my lady, shall bear my sons and daughters.” The prince stated, his voice uncharacteristically soft. There was certainty in his lone lilac eye that took you aback, and it took everything in you to not beleive it. “No, I— “

Aemond let out a harsh breath, his hold on your cheek growing slightly harsher but not enough to cause discomfort, more so just to assert his power, control, and wanting. “You will not deny me of this. You shall be the mother of my children, and you shall forever be bound to me.” You looked upon the prince, horrified, and quickly stood to acquire space between you two, but as always, he did not let even a single second pass where he was not close to you. “No! Marry a lady— another lady— I—“ You try to protest, but he is quick to speak and cut you off. There is darkness in his eye that you have come to know, and you feel your knees grow weak as you anticipate what he is going to say.

“I do not think you understand. I have no want for the other ladies. I want you. And you are and will forever be mine. And soon, a child will grow in your belly, and he shall be ours.” He stated, face threading closer to yours. “You will sire a bastard?” You question and hear a sardonic laugh leave his lips, his nose touching your skin, the prince using it to tauntingly trace lines on your cheeks. “No. You shall be the mother of my children… and my lady wife. You have no escape from me now… by the eyes of gods and men, you are completly mine.”

You shake your head, feeling as tears burn your eyes, but you refuse to let them slip. “No.” You croaked out, and Aemond let out another laugh. “No? It was not a question, my darling. You are mine. And you shall be my wife and bear my heirs.” You shook your head once more. “It’s not as if you shall have any other choice. You forget, I have bought you… You have nowhere to go to but me. Not even your traiterous father’s house will accept you now… nor the line of suitors I heard tell you had, for who would want the prince’s whore? Certainly no one… no one but me.” The prince said menacingly. Doing his best to impart to you that there was no one else but him. It shall only be him in your life. And it shall only be him where you can run to.

“Now, do not cry, my lady… You would not wish for our babe to be a sad when he is born.” The prince tried to hush you, cupping your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I— I have told you, I am not pregnant.” You say harshly and watched as a smirk rose on his lips. “You are not pregnant yet. But fret not, that shall change soon.” You gasped as the prince intertwined your lips, and you tried to push him away, but whatever resistance you made was not enough.

“See… you cannot even deny me with your lips— you want this too. Enough with the act. I’m growing overly tired of it. Accept that you are mine.” The prince whispered in your ear as he turned your body so your back faced him. You shut your eyes tightly as you feel his hand cup your tit and the other hike up your skirt.

“You are mine. Say it, my lady. Stop lying to yourself. I know fully well that you are in want of me as well.” The prince whispered as he felt your body respond so eagerly to him. Your skin was riddled with gooseflesh, and the bodice of your gown could not hide the way your nipples strained through the fabric. “Enough with your self-deprecation… you are the only who considers yourself a whore.”

“But it is true. You have made me your whore.” You spat as you tried to appear stoic and seem unaffected by the prince’s touch. But with how warmth pooled between your legs, it was growing harder to conceal it. You hated yourself as your body and mind could never conincide, your bodily whims always made the final decision as it could never resist the prince and the pleasure he offered.

“Aye, I have. You are my whore in my chambers, when it is just the two of us. And you play the part so well… but outside? When we are in the eyes of the smallfolk? You are a lady… my lady. Now, enough of this— succumb to me, as you have done before. Be my whore, my wife, the mother of my children— be mine.”

You let out a yelp as the prince suddenly took hold of your frame and carried you to the bed. Making good on his desires to have you bear his children. “No— Please—“ You cried as he began to rip apart your gown, the prince now far gone as his mind was conquered with the thought of you swollen with his child. His cold, calloused hands roamed your body, mapping every curve, desperate to claim every inch of you.

"You are mine," he rasped, his breath fanning your skin. "And tonight, I will make certain of it.” He promised, but in his mind, you were his the moment he had saw and claimed your maidenhead in the whore house. It was only you that he waited upon to accept the truth that you were his.

Your gown was no match for his impatience—fingers tearing at the laces, fabric parting beneath his rough hands as he stripped you bare before him. Aemond's gaze darkened as he drank in the sight of you, his hunger sharpened to a lethal edge. "You will take me," he said, voice laced with possession. "And you will bear my children, my darling. I will see you round with my seed, swollen with my heir."

His words sent heat through you, a mixture of anticipation and something primal. His lips found yours again, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he stole every sensible thought in your mind. The night stretched long, filled with his whispers, his praises, and his oaths that you were his as he sought to imprint himself upon you, not just in this moment but for both of your futures—one where he would see you full with his heir, bound to him forever. And gods help you, but at this moment, when his cock filled you and his fingers played with taut buds of your tits and your mind was consumed by the image of him pleasuring you, you wanted it just as desperately as he did.

“Why me?” You could not help but ask as you lay on the prince’s chest. His fingers running through your hair, his little ritual to aid you both in sleep. “What?” He asked quietly after a moment. “Why me? Why could you not just claim another? Why could you not set me free?” You asked, voice heavy both with sleep and emotion.

“It is simply because I want you. You need not wonder why or question my decision— I want you, my lady… I have never wanted— needed anything more that I have wanted and needed you.” You stared blankly upon the pale skin of the prince that you lay upon—letting him continiously run his fingers through your hair. Your mind did not wish to believe his words. Regretting asking him the question because it paled with further confusion and strain in your mind.

“I will never be free, will I?” You asked, a tear sliding out of your eye. “Never. You shall forever be by my side, my lady.” Aemond swore, ignoring the tear he felt that left your eye for he believed that in time you shall fully accept him and your station.

You sat quietly in the great hall of Harrenhall. Riverlords gathered and celebrated the victory of the prince and his faction. You sat at the great table, your prayers heard as the unceasing rain finally ceased for the night and not made your efforts moot. You tilted your head upward, the stars shining upon the hall, stars you had not seen for so long finally revealed themselves on the night a where an announcement you still could not comprehend was to be uttered.

You feel the prince take hold of your hand under the table, squeezing the apandage and urging you to look upon him. You did so reluctantly and were quietly shocked to see serenity and perhaps even joy in his usual cold lilac gaze.

“I have just received word,” He whispered, and you stayed silent as you waited for him to impart to you what he had learned. “My brother… he has succumbed to his injuries.” Your eyes widened at the news, but mostly because there was not an ounce of sadness nor concern in him. “I— are you to tell them?” You asked, glancing towards the guests who were none the wiser of the turmoil happening in the capitol.

“No. This is our night. Let them know of it after, but tonight. We, my lady— my future queen shall be all that matters.” He murmured, and you feel your stomach pit with something that was not dread.

Before you could speak once more, the prince stood, and you watched as the hall turned silent as all palced thier attention to the prince who now was to be king. “Welcome all! As many know, we are here to celebrate our victory not only here in the Riverlands but the whole of Westoros.” The prince began, letting a rare smile slip his lips as he had come to realize that all that he wanted since he was a child was finally in his grasp. The crown, adoration of the kingdom, and most importantly, you. Someone that was his. A woman who shall be his queen and the mother of his children.

“But tonight, we shall as well celebrate my marriage with Lady Celtigar!” You feel time freeze as the hall is rendered to stony silence at the prince’s words. When Aemond made you stand, his smile grew as the hall burst into cheers. No matter how much you sold to yourself as a whore— someone who was lowly, you were still well recieved by they noble houses and smallfolk as though you were not completly sold in the green’s faction, you still showed compassion and empathy towards those who faught in the war. Aemond wagdered that they would have no trouble in accepting you as queen.

“To Prince Aemond and Lady Celtigar!” You hear someone shout through the cheers and claps. The prince once again took your hand and moved it to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. You stared into his eye, and for the first time since you had met him in the whore house, you finally started to believe that your place was by his side. For the first time, you felt that you were more than the prince’s whore.

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vampzv · 8 months ago

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"I don't have a type." ... sure

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sins-of-the-dragons · 1 day ago

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Normal Aemond seems like he will be emotionally unavailable for his wife!reader

But dark!Aemond is completely different. He feels everything strongly and he always makes it obvious to you what he is feeling. He can be extremely intense and scary. If he is angry, you will know. Either he will kill the cause of his anger in the most cold brutal way or take it out on you with sex. Imagine dark!Aemond throwing you in bed and just go raw and rough, mild or above mild choking, and it just goes on for hours until his anger is gone. And then imagine his aftercare holding you in his arms, kissing all the marks and bruises, words of comfort and love till you tell him he didn't hurt you, you actually loved it. He won't stop till he hears these words

Imagine you did something wrong and dark!Aemond is pissed. There will definitely be punishments but before that he will be so calm and cold, and you just know there is no escaping his punishments

Imagine dark!Aemond happy. He will take you on a dragon ride, give gifts, or just simply spend the day with you in a very lighthearted way, but it's a delicate balance which everyone is scared to disturb. Imagine happy dark!Aemond cancelling all his duties and meetings for the day and like "I will be with my wife today. Don't disturb me if you want to live."

Dark!Aemond never wears the eye patch or is just without the sapphire eye. Definitely looks scary

If you ever get pregnant you better get comfortable because he is not letting you out of your room or tower for the next nine months. He will be extremely protective, caring, obsessed, but also extremely sweet and he won't hide his excitement for you or others, but you better pray nobody ruins his mood. Imagine if someone managed to ruin his mood during those nine months, there will be blood flowing down the red keep, like how dare someone make him pissed or angry when he is about to be a father

#dark!aemond #aemond #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #game of thrones #hotd fanfic #hotd one shot #house of the dragon headcannon #hotd headcanon #house of the dragon imagine

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multific · 2 months ago

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For Every Word You Give Me

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You’ve always struggled with your stutter, speaking only when you must, trusting only your husband with your voice.

The table stretched long through the hall, glittering with silver and candlelight.

The meat was passed, wine spilt freely, and laughter echoed off stone walls, too loud, too sharp.

You felt small in it all. Always had.

You sat beside Aemond, his hand lightly resting atop yours under the tablecloth.

Your thumb moved slowly across his knuckles, grounding yourself in his calm presence, his heat.

His voice beside you was low and steady, “You look lovely tonight.”

Your lips curled shyly. You whispered back, “Th-thank you.” The words were soft, hesitant.

But he heard you. He always heard you.

Aemond turned his head slightly, a rare softness in his pale eye. “Only I get to hear your voice like that,” he murmured. “I think I’m the luckiest man in all of Westeros.”

You blushed, squeezing his hand beneath the table.

You never spoke much, the stutter made it hard, made you ashamed. You had grown used to silence, to ducking your head.

But with him… you tried. He never looked at you with pity. Only devotion.

Then came Aegon’s voice.

Slurred. Loud. Drunk.

“You know, brother,” he called across the table, “I often wonder if your wife is mute or just terribly slow. The poor girl can barely choke out a sentence without sounding like she’s drowning in her own words.”

Your blood turned to ice.

The table fell quiet. The silence stretched long.

You looked down instantly, cheeks burning, eyes stinging. Your throat ached with humiliation, with all the words you couldn’t say to defend yourself.

Aemond stood up, abruptly. His chair scraped the floor.

“Aegon,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “if you ever speak of her that way again, I will remove your tongue and feed it to Vhagar.”

Aegon scoffed, raising his goblet. “Oh come now, I mean-”

“She is worth a thousand of you,” Aemond snapped. “You are unfit to speak her name.”

You were already moving, tears falling fast as you rushed out of the hall, heart thudding in your ears.

You didn’t want to be seen. Not like this. You hated how weak it made you feel. How small.

You made it to your chambers and closed the door behind you, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. You pressed your back against the wood and covered your mouth to muffle your sobs.

Why did it always hurt like this? Why couldn't you just speak normally?

Minutes passed.

Then the door creaked open.

“Aemond,” you gasped, quickly wiping your face. “Y-you shouldn’t-”

“Stop,” he said gently, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Don’t hide from me.”

You turned your back to him anyway. “I d-don’t… w-want you to see m-me like this.”

His arms wrapped around you from behind, firm and warm. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, his voice low against your skin. “You never have to hide from me.”

You shook your head. “I’m… I’m b-broken.”

“No,” he whispered. “You’re brave. Do you know how much strength it takes to speak when the world gives you reason not to?”

Your voice trembled. “You d-deserve someone b-b-better-”

“I deserve you,” he said, turning you in his arms. His eye searched your face with a mix of fury and reverence. “You, who give me your voice when no one else hears it. You, who I would kill for without hesitation. You are mine. And I am yours.”

Your lip quivered. “You r-really mean that?”

“I swear it on Vhagar’s fire, on my blood, on my love for you,” he whispered, cupping your face. “Speak only to me, if that is what makes you feel safe. I’ll carry your silence for the world, and treasure every word you give me.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks again, not from shame this time, but from relief.

You nodded and leaned into him.

“I l-l-love you,” you whispered, voice fragile as lace.

His breath caught. Then he kissed you, deeply, as if that was the only answer he could ever give.

He pulled you to bed that night and held you until you stopped shaking. You fell asleep in his arms, his hand tangled in yours.

And for the first time in a long time, you dreamed without fear.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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youraverageaemondsimp · 11 months ago

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Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.

7K notes · View notes

dolicekiss · 11 months ago

Text

Apple Of Their Eye

part two here

PAIRING: Dark! Aegon Targaryen X sister!reader X Dark!Aemond Targaryen

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni) incestuous relationship, dark!targaryen brothers, innocent virgin!reader, dubcon, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, handjob, riding, breeding, threesome, kissing, possessive behaviour, nipple play, throat fucking, drunk reader, praise, pretty much the targaryen brothers giving their sister sex lessons and claiming her as theirs.

SYNOPSIS: Being close to both your Targaryen brothers had its own perks. Drinking wine together, going horse riding and reading books. It was all a dream but when Aegon heard the talk of your betrothal, he decided it was finally time to taint you. What you didn’t expect was Aemond walking in on you indulging in your older brother’s sickly pleasures.

Giggles erupted from your lips when your sweet brother, Aegon made a weird face to encourage sweet giggles out of you. His favorite sound in the world, as he liked to address it. Your bond with both your brothers was something never seen before among house Targaryen. Fiercely loyal to each other, defensive and protective. You were the perfect trio of destruction — well, with a honeyed touch of peace.

That was your vital role.

To calm down the blood of the dragons.

You had grown so attached to one another that both your brothers denied the responsibilities of the throne, wishing to spend time with you.

You had to convince Aegon to sit upon the throne and he agreed in one go when his little sister asked for it. How could he not? You were looking up at him with such hopeful, glimmering eyes, those long lashes of yours coating the apple of your cheeks.

He often wondered if his bridled desires would break out of control one moon and find way to you?

Aemond entered the room, hand resting atop his sword as he analyzed the room, which was in shambles. You and Aegon again had enjoyed a pillow fight — pieces of feathers and cotton everywhere in the room. Pale sheets on the floor and wine spilled everywhere.

He was the youngest, yet he felt as though he was the oldest amongst you three. You and Aegon behaved like little children, even when you were younglings. Aegon and you would disturb the council members and pull hilarious pranks on them meanwhile Aemond paid them no mind.

“You two.” His voice put a hold to your giggles, your attention diverting to your brother. Your silky strands — similar to Aemond’s — were a mess. They reached your hips, only at such a young age and Aemond couldn't keep his one eye off the loose strap of your dress over your creamy shoulder.

Aegon smirked to himself, knowing well him and his brother shared their feelings about you.

You smiled at Aemond, a big grin of excitement adorning your soft, delicate features. “Aemond! Come here, have wine with us.”

He shook his head. “I have duties to tend to, sister. You carry on.”

Your lips formed a frown. “But Aemond, I miss you. You rarely ever spend time with Aegon and I. Do we bore you now, do you seek fun in planning war and those boring councils?”

Aegon nodded in agreement and Aemond shook his head, walking closer and taking a seat on the bed with you. Aegon had his head on your lap, staring at you with love sick eyes of a puppy. Your flushed state and rosette cheeks were a vision for Aemond — his callous hands aching to touch you.

“Aemond how can you neglect our beautiful sister here?” Aegon taunted, reaching out to wrap a finger around a strand of your silver hair and curl it. You smiled at him, cheeks round and Aemond swallowed. “I am not neglecting her, I am merely occupied with tending to my duties since no one else will.”

He diverted his one eye to Aegon and the older brother groaned, tugging on the single strand of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, lips puckering into a pout. “Aegon, stop it.”

“You shouldn't trust Aegon so much, sweet sister. He is all but a twat,” Aemond’s words made you turn to him and he looked away from you, not wanting his gaze to linger somewhere below where he was allowed. His own reluctance at being around you proved that he too struggled with the same demons his older brother did.

Aegon sat up now, eyes boring into Aemond’s. “And why shouldn't she? I pay her more mind, more attention than you ever would.”

“I trust him, brother. You should too, he's our king and he cares for me.” You softly spoke.

Your soft soothing voice was like the sun against their cold words. Aemond pondered late at night how their monstrous house got blessed with such a sweet little thing? Repentance was not something that came to house Targaryen — so why were they bestowed with you?

Your kindness, to the maids — the highborn ladies and even the members of the small council made you quite the perfect candidate for queen, especially when the realm loved and adored you. The sweet daughter of Viserys Targaryen, left behind to bring prosperity and love.

“Yeah, she trusts me.” Aegon said, scooting behind you. His chin nestled over the small cup of your shoulder, staring straight ahead with mischief in his gaze. “Don't you, sweet sister?”

You nodded, coyly.

He was almost taunting Aemond, being able to stay this close to you while he was busy with preparing for war. It was not fair, definitely to Aemond it was not. He inhaled a sharp breath as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck, accidentally pressing a kiss to your exposed skin. Your body shuddered and you quickly pulled away from him, staring at him in confusion.

Aemond felt a lump form in his throat.

Fuck, you were so innocent. Oblivious to the sick desires of both your brothers.

“Be careful, sister.” Aemond said to you, gesturing towards the other Targaryen brother. “You're too innocent for your own good.”

Then he got up, parting from your chambers, hoping that the next time he enters, he finds you all alone and not with that foolish brother of his. He did not harbor resentment towards Aegon necessarily, but ever since they were children, they fought. For a dragon, for toys and for your attention. It had been a constant battle of who'd bring you the prettiest flower first, who would be first to dance with you at feasts, who's horse you'd sit on and ride.

For everyone else it was draining but you relished the attention you got from your brothers. Enjoying each and every bit of the fight going on for you — only you didn't knew it went beyond the walls of brotherly love and they were horrifyingly obsessed with you.

Aemond had turned down every marriage alliance, not interested in securing the future of the realm if it came at the expense of being far from you. A woman would only act as a wall between the two of you and Aemond did not want any walls. He would gladly crush them, with or without the help of Vhagar.

You prepared another cup of wine to drink but Aegon was called to the council — arranged by the dowager Queen. Crestfallen, you let your brother go as he fixed his attire and departed from your chambers, after leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead.

As soon as Aegon entered the council room, he's greeted with everyone there. Each member and with a scowl on his face, he takes his seat. Evidently upset by having to leave his sister, even though he could go back to her at anytime.

“Your Grace.” Everyone greeted him, standing up and heads low. Aegon gestured them to sit and they obliged, following into their comfortable seats.

Alicent looked at the council members, knowing that the discussion they had come to would eventually upset the King. Everyone was hesitant and Aegon noticed that. He raised a brow, confused. “Are we here to stare at one another? If we are, do excuse me. I have pressing matters to attend to.”

Everyone knew pressing matters meant giving his undivided attention to his little sister.

“In order to secure house frey and gain access and control to the passage in riverrun, we think it would be best to form a marriage alliance with them.” Alicent’s words didn't actually hit Aegon how they were supposed to, as he grinned. “We cannot offer a dragon, we can offer a dragon.”

Assuming the marriage alliance was for Aemond, his younger brother not his little sister. “Great, it is about time Aemond finds himself a pretty bird too.”

He was cheerful. If Aemond was married, he would have your attention all to himself and he became overjoyed with that, a little too fast. Alicent swallowed, exchanging glances with the master of coin and the maester. Her hesitance was in existence because she did not know how maturely her son would handle to the news of sending his only sister away from him.

“Your Grace, the marriage alliance is for your sister, the Princess. House frey has suitors available and the Princess gets to choose with whom she wishes to ma—”

Aegon’s palms slammed down against the wooden table, rising up from the table. His gaze searing and his lips quivering from the sheer courage of Tyland Lannister’s, to marry his sister off without even inquiring him about it. The fact that they even thought of doing that filled him with a rage so overwhelming, he felt like burning the whole small council to the ground.

“That is my sister you're speaking of.” He reminded them. “I will have your fucking tongue for even suggesting to get her married off in the first place.”

The whole council flinched at the King’s outburst. Alicent had expected it to be a tantrum but this was more than a childish tantrum. The room was elevated with tension as Aegon panted, his body quivering from the rage coursing through his veins.

Alicent took a deep breath. “It is for the best, my King. You need to win this war and the Freys are demanding a dragon which we cannot provide.”

“So you give them my sister, like some fucking piece of coin?” He snapped, turning to her. “She is the princess of house Targaryen, my sister. I will not have you subject her to the same fate as all the other women.”

Aegon dismissed the council, walking out of there. Alicent sighed, holding onto tethered pieces of hope that maybe talking to Aemond about it would be better, since Aegon did consider him his closest blood and best sword. Little did she know she would be riling up another dragon and awakening it.

The next few hours were unbearable for Aegon. He had visited your chambers but you were nowhere to be found and when he asked your maids, he was told you'd gone out to collect flowers for the vase in your room. Countless times both your brothers had told you to either tell them or command the servants to bring you flowers — still you did what you felt.

Upon your return, you found your chambers not deserted. Aegon was there, situated on your bed. Hair a mess, tunic unbuttoned revealing his pale chest. Your brother was disheveled and you couldn't recall the time you two spent together being the cause of this.

So what had happened?

Worried and upset, you dropped the basket filled with flowers by the side of your door and walked over to him. Your purple dress, a match to your purple eyes, flowing behind like the waves of the sea. You sat next to your brother, small hands reaching out to cup his face in them.

“Brother, is everything alright? You seem upset.” You inquired and when Aegon raised his head, you saw just how devasted he appeared.

Devasted and drunk.

Your eyes noticed the cup in his hand, as well as the pitcher on the floor. Something happened at the small council, that much you figured out. But what had happened, now that was for Aegon to tell you.

Though your brother only stared at you, bringing the cup to your lips. “Drink, for me.”

You were in no mood for wine but you still obliged him, parting your lips and consuming the wine. The crimson tainting your lips red as you swallowed it, gulp after gulp. Even for you that was a lot and when you were finished, Aegon refilled the empty cup.

“Drink more.” It was a command.

You frowned. “Did I do something wrong, brother? Is this your way of reprimanding me?”

He stared at you, eyes droopy and full of glimmering lust for you — unbeknownst to you. “I want us to be drunk together, like old times. Please.”

You heard the plea in his voice and nodded, softening at the disheveled state your brother was in. You parted your lips to take sips as Aegon held the cup for you. He pushed it, more and more until the wine had overwhelmed you and drops spilled over your dress, trailing down your chin.

The red had absorbed into the purple but you finished your glass, staring at Aegon after the glass had been tore from your lips.

Aegon moved further into your soft bed, veiled by pellucid pale curtain and you followed, laying next to him. His head found comfort on your chest, a frown so evidently ceasing his features. Confusion had clouded your senses — hoping that your brother might tell you the cause of his distress.

But all he did was lay silently on your chest, feeling the soft plush of your breasts against his cheek.

Aegon swallowed the urge to press his mouth over your pebbles and suck them, burying his face deeper into your breasts. He was a mess and he knew that his mother would go against him, to secure more power and alliances with the other lords.

He could not let it happen.

He mouthed lazily at the chiffon, attempting to take a nipple of yours into his mouth. The purple fabric absorbed the saturation of his saliva, as your brother crossed all the limits between the two of you.

As if there were any to begin with.

“A-Aegon, what are you doing?” You whispered in a breathy gasp when he sucked on your peaked nipple through the cotton, his other hand moving to provide your other breast with attention.

Your back arched slightly and your breath quickened as your brother’s hands moved down to the laces which held your dress together. As drunk as you were, you still knew this was wrong yet had no control whatsoever of the situation. Once your laces were loosened enough, Aegon tugged at the sleeve of your dress and unveiled your breast.

“Brother, this is inappropriate. You're under the influence of wine, we should not—”

Aegon looked up at you with the softest look on his face, akin to a puppy. He switched his attention to the unattended breast of yours which he had uncovered, suckling on the nipple, fingers rolling the soaked one in between them. Your soft lips were parted and made the prettiest little sounds of pleasure foreign to you.

“I'm your brother, sister. If I don't deserve to have you like this when who does? Those fucking house frey suitors?” He snapped, voice fallen to a few octaves. Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, not being able to understand what he was insinuating with his words.

Your brows scrunched and your crinkles formed on your nose. “H-House frey, Aegon?”

He chose silence.

Aegon moved to lean up against the bed, his unbuttoned tunic revealing his bare chest beneath his small clothes. You watched him, your silver hair a mess — cascading beautifully down your shoulders and narrow back. Aegon patted his lap, a silent order for you to sit on it but you could only blink innocently.

Having no regards of such matters.

“Crawl to me, sister.”

You nodded, as puzzled as you were, slithering to settle yourself over your brother's lap. Both hands on his chest as your thighs sat over each side of his waist, looking down at him. This was all new to you but you were not complaining.

His hand extended to grasp your chin, pulling your face closer to him. He could see everything, all the subtle features which made you all the more beautiful. The mole neath your left eye, the way your pupils enlarged whenever you locked eyes with him, how your pretty lips quivered. “Today I will teach you how to make your brothers the happiest. You wish to learn, don't you sister?”

You eagerly nodded.

Aegon grinned. “Kiss me, my little dove.”

You obliged, pressing a kiss to his cheek and Aegon released a chuckle. In complete awe of the naivety you possessed. “Here, sister. This will make me and Aemond the happiest.”

You were hesitant with it but still leaned your head, pressing a subtle, feather light kiss to Aegon’s lips. His hunger was far from satiated as he stared at you with a hooded gaze, his blood heating up at the feel of your lips against his. He was over the moon with only a peck, he could only imagine the power of a proper liplock.

“Did I do good? Was that okay, brother?”

Aegon shook his head. “No, little dove. You have to do more, kiss more of my lips. Try to suck on them, yeah?”

You puffed out your cheeks, irritated at your own incompetence at making your brother happy. Still, you kissed him once more but this time like a baby bird trying to eat it's food with untrained beaks, you tried to suck on Aegon’s lips. Closing them around his upper lip, your saliva glossing his lips. Aegon’s cock stirred awake in his breeches at how inexperienced you truly were. An innocent girl getting ruined by her brother.

You closed your eyes, focusing at the task at hand. Aegon reached for your nape, locking it in place as he finally kissed you back. Soft kiss of yours evolved into something harsher, something more passionate and you whimpered, your endeavor to retreat declined by your brother. Your small hands nestled over his chest — trying to push him but it only strengthened the kiss, Aegon trying to drown in the sweet nectar.

“Open your mouth, little dove.” Your endeavor to speak was mistaken as consent by your brother, his tongue running over the edge of your perfect teeth — making way to your tongue. He wrapped around the wet muscle and began to suck on it, the saliva dripping from your mouth and slipping into his. Light headed you had become due to the vigorous kiss and how your brother dominated your mouth with his tongue.

Aegon soon broke the kiss and allowed you a few moments of air, staring at how swollen your lips had become. He had tasted you and it only fuelled his desire more for you. To claim you and never let anyone else's sight fall upon you. Heart fluttering at being the first man ever to put his cock inside you.

“This is what good sisters do for their brothers.” He said to you, his hands rested on your thighs and thumbs swiping across the pale skin. “You're such a good girl, my Princess. You'd do anything for your King, won't you?”

You nodded your head impatiently, doe eyes looking into your brother's purple ones. Chest falling and rising, sharp intakes of breath breaking through the silence. Aegon smiled and that was the biggest achievement for you, ever. He lifted one hand from your thigh, taking your small hand into his. Aegon loved how your petite hand disappeared into his — a perfect size you were for him.

He wondered in that very moment how you'd look taking Aemond’s cock into your small mouth, considering he was bigger than the both of you. Taller, toned from the constant training of wielding a sword. The thought of both of them taking you at once riled him up like nothing else.

Aegon brought your hand to his crotch, laying it over it. Your coy eyes widened. “B-Brother.”

“Unlace my trousers, sister.” Albeit it was an order, his tone was soft. You had never seen such a dark look in your sweet brother's eyes, violets always glimmering with excitement and happiness.

You were hesitant at first, reluctance dripping from the way your shivering fingers pulled at the soft laces which tightened his trousers. Aegon watched with a curious gaze, knowing very well he was about to defile his little sister and ruin the innocence she so wholeheartedly showcased. It almost made him sad but this was necessary, to wed you to him. Or even Aemond.

He couldn't care less who you married as long as it was one of them.

With bated breath, you loosened his trousers and then looked at him for further instructions.

“Pull out my cock, sister. You should feel something hard, that is my cock.” Your silver lashes fluttered, fingers getting to work. The second you felt something hard, skin but rigid — you grasped it to free it. Aegon hissed upon your cold touch and you retreated, feeling bad.

He was quick to reach for you. “No, no. Do not worry, for I am fine. You shall continue.”

So you did, given the reassurance, your gaze focusing on the unclothed cock of your sweet brother. Aegon reached for your hand and wrapped it around his own cock with your neath it. “I need you to move your hand, sister. Pursue my actions, this will truly please me.”

Aegon began to move his hand in slow, sensual strokes and you followed. The more you touched him, the more he lost his composure. Little sounds falling from his parted lips and his hand fell to the side over his thigh — letting you take the lead. You picked up your pace, hand undulating over his throbbing length.

Palm stained with his precum, you used it to slick his twitching cock and then moved your fingers up. A shuddered gasp of fulfillment slipping from Aegon’s mouth upon that accident. You smiled, in victory and pressed the pad of your thumb deeper into his little hole. Watching as more of the pale liquid spurted out.

The more you stared at it, the prettier you found it — shade darker than the rest of him and cock head the same pink as his agape lips. Varicose veins, a deeper hue of purple than the ones of your irises embedded in neath the flesh.

Eyes sparkling at the thought of touching Aemond in the same way, getting to see such an intimate part of him. You wished he was here, to be able to do this for him would be a great blessing.

Your mouth watered the more you gazed at your brother's glistening cock head. Without paying much mind to it, you leaned lower and closed your lips around it. Aegon’s eyes immediately snapped open when he felt the warmth your mouth provided and stared down at you.

“Oh, Gods.” He groaned, almost a whine. “Who taught you this, my sister? Have you engaged in such acts before?”

You quickly backed away, shaking your head with a guilt ridden face. “No, Aegon. I am so very sorry if this was something I was not supposed to do. I promise I have never done this before, I promise. I swea—”

“Hey,” Aegon whispered, caressing your face with his large hand. “I believe you. You see I do not wish for you to get involved like this with someone else. It is only right if you do it with me, and Aemond.”

You nodded your head understandingly. “I would love for you to continue, my little dove but right now I need something more. Could you give it to me, my sweet girl?”

“Yes, brother. Anything my King wants.” You smiled, lips shimmering with his residual and Aegon’s cock twitched.

He pulled you on his lap once more, hands on your waist. Then the pair dropped lower to your bare thighs and Aegon bunched up your dress, revealing your unclothed, bare pink cunt. You were never too fond of wearing small clothes under your dresses — summer of Westeros unbearable for a delicate thing like you.

He licked his lips deliciously.

“Just as you touched me, I have the full right to touch you too. You understand?” You nodded like an obedient student, stomach churning in anticipation for your brother's next move.

Aegon pulled you closer rather harshly by your thighs and your shoulders went slumped, feeling his head brush against your pearl. Your eyes widening at the electrifying contact. “I need to do this in order to make my cock fit inside you, so be a good girl and let me, okay?”

“Yes, brother.” You whispered, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Aegon’s fingers moved to your cunt, running in the center of your soaked folds. He found it amusing how you had no idea of the pleasures taken between a man and a woman yet your body had reacted like this, cunt drenched and wet. He knew your maidenhead was still intact, after all he rarely ever let you be in the presence of someone else.

If Aegon was occupied, it would be Aemond who would linger around you like a new born shadow.

They knew how innocent you were, how fucking naive and monsters lurked in the red keep. You needed their protection more than the people of the realm. Careless they were about the iron throne, Aegon wished to fuck you on it before properly ascending it.

“Oh.” Your eyes slightly rolled back at the way your brother caressed your folds, pinching your pink pearl. “You've got such a beautiful cunt, my sister. I am sure you will put it to good use to make your brothers happy, won't you, little dove?”

Eager you were to please them.

They had brought you everything, anything your heart had ever desired. Allowed you to ride their dragons with them, brought you the most beautiful gifts from the north and drowned you in lannister gold. Both brothers even went as far as getting you jewelry from Dorne since Aemond caught you complimenting a dornish necklace.

Aemon’s thumb prodded at your bud, swirling it around, watching how your face contorted in pleasure. Lids fluttering shut and head thrown back, fingernails digging into your brother's chest. You were a fucking sight, all disheveled. With his other hand, he entered a finger into you and your pleasure-clad face evolved into one of pain.

“Ow,” you complained at the sting of being stretched out. “Aegon, that hurts.”

“I know, my Princess but you mustn't rush. I will bring you pleasure soon, it is a promise.”

You believed him, waiting out the sting as Aegon fully sunk his finger into you. Driving it in and out of you, all the while rubbing your swollen attention seeking bud. Your expressions were the prettiest, the most breathtaking and he questioned himself why did he not do this earlier?

Just what was stopping him back?

He was the fucking King, goddamnit. He could have you whenever he wanted and you would give yourself up to him, everytime. Just like right now how you were serving yourself up to him on a silver platter like those animals during feasts.

“Brother, oh my god. This feels weird, I feel weird.” You whimpered, hips moving on their own accord over your brother's fingers and Aegon licked his lips, furthermore sinking his canines into his lower lip.

Aegon added another without warning and you whined out, a loud one which made him reach over and press his palm over your lips, sealing them shut. “As much as I absolutely adore your sounds, we should not let anyone find out.”

You nodded, and Aegon removed his hand, letting you breathe. You decided to keep it blow but everytime Aegon would move his finger inside you and you would feel it run at your gummy unclaimed walls, little whimpers would escape you. Feeling his fingers curve up and rotate, hitting into a spongy spot of which’s existence you too were unaware of, you cried out.

Aegon smiled.

That was enough preparing.

Aegon pulled out and you gasped when he brought his lips to his mouth, sucking on your sweet arousal.

He wanted to take you on your back but that was how he took his whores. He would never let them sit on top of his thighs and look at him like this — all dolled up yet disheveled. You were his sister, the apple of his fucking eye and Aegon was not going to take you like some whores.

They existed to keep his sick desires for you at bay, but he knew after this, he would not be needing them anymore.

“This is going to hurt, sister but worry not, I assure you I am right here. It shall feel better soon, just like with my fingers.” His comforting words and soft tone helped with your trepidation — allowing your brother to raise your hips and align his cock with your drenched hole.

Aegon allowed you to sink down on him and when his head breached your entrance, a sting worse than before spread like a virus, consuming your whole being. Your eyes welled up with tears and your lips quivered, a brusque tremor awakening in your petite hands. He was quick to come to your rescue, holding both your hands and leading the pair to his nape, making you latch onto him for support.

“Here, hold me. As tight as you can, my little dove and carefully slide down. Be careful and gentle, alright? No rush here.” He continuously comforted, guiding you and you nodded, inhaling a deep and brief breath.

Then you sunk more, his girth expanding your hole. Little movement and reassuring words from your brother helped you take the entirety of his cock and when your ass finally met his thighs, Aegon groaned. You felt his cock twitch inside you and your hold around his nape tightened. The pain was throbbing and hot — consuming your whole being but the fact you were so full with your brother's cock, contempt, you let out a drunk giggle.

Short on breath but still, you smiled at Aegon.

While you two descended deeper into forbidden pleasures, Aemond had gotten free time to come see you.

After intense sword training and back and forth of sharing strategies of the war with Ser Criston Cole, Aemond had found his feet switching route — bringing you to the hallway where your chambers were located. As he walked, with each step, he felt extreme excitement build up in his stomach. Finally having enough time to spare you a visit and get drunk, bask in your presence.

He hoped that Aegon would not be there as he wanted you all to himself, especially for tonight.

Upon opening the door to your chambers, the view before him left him astonished and there were rarely many things that left Aemond Targaryen astonished. He was quick to close the doors, not wishing for anyone to come across the Princess’ bed chambers and witness such sin.

His hands formed into fists — how you sat on top of Aegon, hips oscillating in a sensual manner. Too sensual for someone as innocent as you and he knew Aegon had managed to ruin and defile the only pure thing about house Targaryen. Yet fucking again. You two were so indulged and far gone in your pleasures that Aemond’s presence was barely noticed.

But then Aegon caught his brother's tall figure by the door.

“Oh brother, welcome.” He called out, although it was more of a moan and you turned to look at Aemond.

Your cunt tightened at Aegon when gaze laid over your brother, the one you missed the most since he barely had time to spare. Aegon let out a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head at his brother. “You will not fucking believe it but our sister's cunt became more tight upon seeing you.”

Aemond’s teeth gritted. “Mittys, that is our sister.” (Fool)

“Do not pretend as if you have not wished to do this more than I have.” He voiced it out, hand pressing into your waist. You whimpered as Aegon made you move on his cock and by now the pain had subsided, pleasure coming in to take control. You began to roll your hips over his thighs, eyes locked with Aemond.

You needed him too, your eyes screamed for him to come closer and as if you had telepathically communicated, Aemond sauntered towards the bed.

You whined when Aegon pushed his hips up, breaching furthermore of your cunt. “Aemond.”

Aegon was inside you but you were moaning for Aemond and the older brother did not even find it upsetting. Rather his cock hardened even more — if possible, hearing you whine and ache for your younger brother with such need. He did not mind sharing you with Aemond, as long as he could have his fill of you too.

“A-Aegon said I could make you both happier like this. I want to, I love you. You're my brothers.” You expressed your profound love for them, nodding your head as Aemond slipped of his leather gloves. He tossed them aside and reached for your hair, taking a strand and curling it around his finger. His nose catching a whiff of the perfumes and oils you were basking in, yet the natural scent of roses was enough to drive him fucking crazy.

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder. Eye following the stretch mark trailing down to your breasts and the stretched flesh made him realize that you had grown. You were not a little girl anymore but you were still their little sister. Your rosy nipples were peaked — demanding attention and Aemond hissed.

His own cock bulging against his leather slacks and Aegon saw it.

Aegon moved inside you, thrusting up and you lost composure. Lips breaking apart to let out the most feminine sounds, silver strands glued on a perspired forehead as Aemond watched you bounce on his brother's cock with vigor. Your fingernails had dug into Aegon’s nape and tears sat beautifully like pearls in your waterline.

It was evident that you were sensitive, nothing like the common whores.

“Does she not look fucking beautiful, bouncing on her big brother's cock like that?”

Aemond wanted to punch Aegon but he was not wrong. You did look celestial, out of this world with how you bounced up and down on his cock, trying to desperately please him.

Aegon rolled his eyes at Aemond. “Are you only going to just watch? I have taught her things, with her hand and mouth. Be a dear and show him, sister.”

Like a trained puppy, you were quick to oblige, hands extended to work gracefully over Aemond’s leather slacks. You undid them, pulling at the leather and he watched how eager and desperate you were. Hands moving with a significant tremor.

“Aemond,” he raised his eye from your hands to your face. “may I please have you in my mouth?”

If the offer had crawled to him on its fucking fours with the most precious doe eyes, who was he to deny? He, too was a man at the end and had perpetually craved you the same as Aegon. Only he was subtle with his desires.

“Yes, my sweet sister.” Aemond whispered, staring at you. His consent made you flourish like the moonlight, bright and glowing right in his face.

Aegon decided it would be better to switch positions and he pulled out, bringing you on all your fours and giving space to Aemond against the bed headboard. He shifted, sprawled out before you, leather slacks and small clothes long gone. In the process, Aegon had stripped himself bare too but the brothers wanted you to not remove the dress.

Just how easily they had access to you despite the dress, it enticed them.

With Aemond’s cock in your hand, you came to a conclusion that his was the prettiest. It was longer than Aegon’s but had almost the same girth. Protruding veins embedded inside the pale skin, his balls hot and throbbing with an ache. You looked up at him and smiled and all Aemond could do was return it and fucking melt.

“Aemond, remove your eye patch. I want to see you whole.” You voiced out your desires and he reached for the eye patch, sliding it off and tossing it aside. The sapphire sparkled like crazy in his eye and you had always found it to be the most coolest and breathtaking thing about Aemond.

Having less of a part than the others did not make him less human too.

Though he appeared more like a god. The fire from the fireplace casting a soft golden glow over both brothers, leaving them heated with pent up desires.

Aegon had already pummeled his cock back into you, not after witnessing the blood staining his length. Testament of your chasity staining him fully and his wanton for you only grew more. You pressed a little kiss to Aemond’s tip — watching him with your deer like purple eyes and he hissed, hand moving to interview with your silver strands.

Eventually you wrapped your lips around his head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth while using your hand to stroke the rest which failed to fit. All while Aegon drove himself deeper inside your sweet, innocent cunt, drawing pathetic little whines out of you.

Aemond groaned, fingers tightening around your roots when the vibrations from your moans sent waves of electricity straight into his loins. You choked when he breached your throat, sputtering around him. Drool and cum glistening around your mouth. Your younger brother sighed pleasure, primary focus of his one eye.

“Messy little girl,” he taunted, the fluids dripping from your chin.

Aegon nestled his cock over and over into your sweet spot, urging you to reach your peak and unravel. “L-Look at her. So fucking obedient and pliant. I want to watch her stomach swell up with my babe. That way mother won't try to marry her off to someone else, some fucking riverrun lord.”

Aemond’s attention snapped to his brother's words, and Aegon only nodded. Letting him know that they were close to losing their sister but not anymore. The sweet dove was tainted, used and claimed. Even if their mother tried to marry her off, she was already tainted by her brothers and no lord would want her. That pleased both Aemond and Aegon.

“Gods, what a blessing you are.” Aemond praised you, highly, palm pressing deeper on your head, encouraging you to take him deeper and you did. His head sliding into the confines of your tight, wet throat. “Perfect little girl, a cocksleeve.”

With each thrust from Aegon, your body moved forward against Aemond’s. A sweaty mess of pleasure and bodied you three were but that did not matter. Aegon felt his peak near, tethering onto it and soon he finished inside you after delivering harsh, potent stutters of hips into you. Your cunt tightened, sucking him in, like a vice.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Like that, little dove, take me in, all of me. Milk me fucking dry, let me breed you so you carry my silver haired children.”

Aemond didn't mind his brother having you first and defiling you, since he pretty sure had your throat first. You were theirs and that's all that mattered. Gagging sounds reverberated in the room along with strong sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your peak danced around too, and when Aemond fucked his cock harshly into your throat, you squeezed around Aegon’s cock and came all over. Tears splurging out, making a mess on your face.

Your whole body twitching from the intense climax. Thighs shaking and sensitivity heightened. Followed by your release, Aemond pursued. Release spurts of white into your mouth, spending fully inside you. Yet he did not unhand you, holding your head in place to fuck his hot load into your mouth.

Once he was done, he pulled out and grasped your chin, peeking inside. “Swallow it whole, Princess.”

And you did. Gulping down the remnants of his spend.

Your head, tired from being in one position, laid right on Aemond’s bare thigh. Aegon was still inside you and when he pulled out, he saw your gaping hole spurt out his white residual. Parts that failed to reach your womb but it did not matter. He would breed you over and over again until you were to end up with his child.

Or Aemond’s.

As long as it was a silver haired babe.

“A-Are you happy now?” You asked, a question for both of your brothers and Aemond nodded his head, running his slim fingers in your hair.

Aegon crawled upto you, laying next to Aemond. A subtle smile playing at his lips, eyes hooded and body weary from all the hard work. “Very happy, little dove. We could not have asked for a better sister.”

Your pale flushed skin reddened as Aemond moved you, bringing you closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. Aegon admired the two of you, pleased with the fucked up dynamics of his family. This was a pleasure he could not have found or ever would find in the bed of a whore. You were the apple of their eye and they could not let you go, even if it meant restoring to such methods.

Your hands cupped your younger brother's face, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

Aemond had expected it to be a gentle peck but it grew needy and hasty, exactly how Aegon had taught you. Your lips suckling on his like a babe, trying to pry his mouth open and meet your tongue with his. You seemed addicted, desperate to kiss your younger brother the same way you had kissed your older. The kiss grew heated as Aemond opened his lips, finally taking control and dominating your mouth.

You whimpered, and Aemond could taste the residual of his orgasm. It did not phase him as he continued relishing in the sweet kiss, feeling your cunt beginning to rut against his already hardening cock.

When you broke the kiss, Aemond admired you before shifting his attention to Aegon who had a nasty grin on his face. “You're responsible for this.”

“Proudly. Only had to teach her once and look at how she's already sucking on your lips like it's a fucking cock.” He cheered, reaching over to pinch your cheeks. You giggled and hugged your younger brother, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

The three of you did not leave your chambers that night while the whole of red keep searched endlessly for the sword, the King and the maiden.

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venmondiese · 11 months ago

Text

LITTLE BOX FULL OF SURPRISES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

based on this request⭑.ᐟ

-ˋˏsummary: The maimed one-eyed prince marries the most beautiful woman on earth. She is dutiful, beautiful and perfect, but Aemond can't stand when someone, specially his uncle, look with desire at what it is his. ✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original Female Character ✧word count: 3.1k ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones, face slapping, spitting on the mouth, degradation kink, possesive Aemond, Aemond is WHIPPED by his wife.

Every time his grandsire and his mother spoke of a Lady of great beauty coming to King’s landing, he rolled his eye.

Even when they present a small portrait, small to fit his palm, he does not seem impressed. Perhaps it is too small, perhaps it is too pretentious. Either the painter exaggerated your features or he couldn’t properly paint a small portrait. But he was curious, after all. Named the most beautiful woman on earth, blessed by the Gods.

He doesn’t doubt that Lady Tully was beautiful. Perhaps she was truly a beautiful woman, with her long red hair, ‘like fire’ said the letter. But being called The Maiden on Earth seems exaggerated to him.

His grandsire had told them about the implications of his betrothal, about how important it was to have secured the Riverlands, since Grover Tully was an old lord, and will not understand reason. To have his most beloved granddaughter as a princess, was the only way to win his approval, and support.

Aemond finally meets her on the little garden near the Weirwood tree. They had been serving little cakes, as some lords and ladies talked nearby, not even half of court was here, and he liked the quietness. That made him less self-conscious.

She was near the table, her hand hovering above all the treats she could get, smiling as she watches them with interest. She is expressive, he realises. He hasn’t seen her face, only her back and the day her hand moves and her head is tilted, curious about the southern gastronomy.

“My lady” Aemond says softly.

She turns so gracefully, and she is surprised to see him. Her hand still extended, and she quickly moves it to grab her skirts, and do a courtesy to him. She has a sweet smile, and she speaks.

“My prince” she says, a bit surprised. “I… I didn’t expect you.”

“I must admit I came a bit earlier than agreed…” he murmurs, looking behind him and then back to her.

The most beautiful maiden on earth fell short to her. She was… something else, in the best way possible. She had that curiosity, that life in her eyes, as she smiles at him, her lips are perfect, and he could see that her maids probably used those Myrish lip taints, for they were a very natural red colour, almost matching with her hair. Her dress was magnificent, wearing the colour of her house, red and blue decorating everything. Even her eyes, blue like the opaque blue rivers in the Riverlands, and her hair, red like flames, matched with her house colours. She wore fish details, her earrings and in her dress pattern. But she was wearing a collar with a seven pointed star in it, and he sighed at her beauty. She was breathtaking.

“Oh, well, so it seems…” she says as she smiles a bit sheepishly, looking at him. “It’s a fine castle, my prince. It does have its own beauty.”

Aemond has never thought of the red Keep as something beautiful, at all. He always wanted to live in Dragonstone, but his wish was not granted. But, if she says so, it must be true, and with good reason.

“You think so?”

She grabs a lemon cake, and eats it carefully as she nods. “Yes! And you also have a Weirwood tree here. When we made our trip here, we passed through Raventree, and their Weirwood was a bit… depressing…” she says, smiling sweetly. “But here it’s very beautiful. More… alive”

As she talks, he watches her closely. Even when his mother, his sickly father and his siblings arrive, when his mother gives him a scolding look for arriving earlier, he sort of watches you in silence, his chest swelling with an air of mystery.

“You are not what I expected” he admits, quietly between the two of them as their parents talked about the betrothal.

“No?” She asks smiling, licking her finger from the cream of the lemon cakes. “You’ll see I’m a little box full of surprises”

That’s the beginning.

A ceremony on the Sept, as she stood next to him, reciting vows and the cloak with dragon sigils is on her shoulders, left behind the fish one. Aemond has never looked so smug and proud. The bedding ceremony was… traditional. Having a crowd was awkward for both, surely, but Aemond made it all more comfortable for her, covering her body with his, and not exposing her, at his own expense.

“Just focus on me” He murmurs closely to her face, as she looks at him with wide eyes. He was between her open legs, and he insisted for her to keep her chemise on, while he had no problem in nudity “Your septa and mother could have told you…”

“Not much” She whispers back.

“Not much” he repeats, moving a strand of hair out other face, tenderly watching her face for discomfort. “But I will be gentle, and… we’ll learn together. Yes?”

“Yes. Thank you…, husband” she says, and he feels a prideful pressure on his chest. He was her husband. The most beautiful woman’s husband.

And she was always thankful for his patience and gentleness towards her, and she stuck to him to all times, even when she was in court, charming everyone around. Her arm was always interlocked with his, and referred to him as ‘her sweet husband’.

Love came quieter than expected, as they laughed on their bed at nights, having picnics in the gardens or going to the Riverlands in Vhagar together, swimming on Riverrun’s rivers, and just… enjoying each other. It was more than love when they had their first son, a lovely and happy baby, mismatched eyes, with both purple and a deep blue. Aemond adored his son, his little Daerion, and he adored you more.

“Black looks well on you” Aemond comments.

Daerion’s blabbing was a way to agree with Aemond’s statement as the maid finished putting on her headband, the same tone of her dress. Her orange hair is in braids, two simple ones with some gold details on them, and some dragon earrings that he gifted her. She was gorgeous, and all his.

“Your wardrobe hasn’t changed” she states looking at him. “Went from velvet black to dark black”

Aemond walks over to his wife, watching her being just so beautiful like that, sitting, waiting peacefully like a porcelain doll.

“Mhm... As if changing colours would make everything amicable…” Aemond murmurs, taking Daerion in his arms, and he allows him to play with his hair. “Does father know it’s useless? Rhaenyra wearing green won’t change anything, nor will my mother wearing black. HIs voice comes as a grunt as he bounces their baby.

“It’s foolish when you put it that way” her voice is tender, sweet, and somewhat like velvet. He is still besotted by her, as maidens do with knights. He watches the shape of her breasts on that dress, how the cleavage is so delightful for his eyes and the roundness of her tits that make the fabric around stretch a bit. As if the tailor always got the measurement of her chest wrong on purpose, which he won’t complain about.

Her bright red hair contrasts with how the black makes her skin look paler, and her eye colour deeper.

“They shouldn’t call you the Maiden herself anymore” Aemond murmurs softly, walking closer to her, still holding Daerion in his arms. “You are like the mother herself. Like the Goddess Syrax of Old Valyria. Beautiful, strong… so alluring…”

“You never seem to run out of compliments” her hands move to grab her rings, and the one he likes the most is the sapphire one, just to symbolise her marriage to him.

“Never, more so if a goddess like you is my wife. All mine…”

“My prince, my lady.” It’s a Kings guard who interrupts. “Supper is ready, and Queen Alicent asks for you both to arrive earlier…”

“Hm” Aemond says, leaving Daerion in the wet nurse’s arms.

“Thank you, ser Willis” the knight smiles at his wife before walking to wait outside the door.

He rolls his eye as he leans to kiss his son’s forehead, caressing his chubby cheek and he smiles fondly at his sight. The little freckles he has that he inherited from his mother, something that Aemond loved. Yet remembering how unnecessary kind his wife is… annoys him.

Kindness and sweetness only helped to enhance her beauty and popularity, and he also loved that. She was beautiful, perfect in any way, tied to a One-Eyed maimed monster, like him. All he could offer to you, that it was worthy, was the luxuries of the royalty, all the kids you want and his unconditional love. He was at your mercy.

He has one eye, but he is not blind. Any man here on the keep, would pull their breeches down if his wife asked so. They would even cut their own throats for her mere delight, and Aemond would be one of them.

“Goodbye, my sweet love” the sweet motherly tone makes little Daerion squeal happily, extending his little arms for his mother. She kisses both his hands, later to wave to him as they leave the room, arms interlocked.

Aemond always bites his tongue when his lady wife is kind to men. He hates it, yet he knows she does it for the kindness of her heart, and not any ulterior motives.

He was smitten for her, moving the chair for her to sit, and helping her, her dress not getting stuck anywhere or her headpiece, and only then, he sat on his own seat at peace.

“I heard they might have some goose” she murmurs to him, as the room fills. Her fingers caress his arm, and he hears her every word. “I’d eat it all if I could, you know” she teases.

“Mhm.” Aemond murmurs. Even if he is besotted, his facade is still the same; stoic, cold, distant. Yet to her, his gaze was always loving.

“I would only share it with you” she states proudly, leaning to give him a peck on the lips, before standing up once the King is brought to the room.

As he stands, he doesn’t miss how his uncle watches her. Aemond might not know the man personally, but he knew the look of desire in a man’s face. Much more when they looked at her

The supper is mostly… tense, and awkward. But Lady Tully is charming to everyone and even toasts as well for Baela and Rhaena in their betrothal, congratulating them and speaking nothing but wonders about her own married life, making Aemond wear the slightest, yet most smug smirk on his face.

“Amazing” she says, with her mouth full as she eats the goose, and Aemond nods, a hand rubbing her back so she doesn’t choke for eating so quickly. “Here, my love” she says, extending the fork with a bit of the goose that she adores so much.

Aemond eats shamelessly, enjoying the taste as he nods softly, approving, which makes her smile. His hand resting on the back of her chair, as he drank his wine quietly, watching his sister and nephew go to dance together. He is highly unaware of the prying eyes that watch them both.

Helaena and Jacaerys’ giggles and the movement of her dress is enough for lady Tully to watch curiously. Her husband was not one for dances, as he had not a good perception of objects with one eye. She never pressured him, and accepted the fact.

She always would say how Daerion once he would be tall enough to walk, she’d dance with her son all the songs and dances, and Aemond approved that idea.

“Lady Tully” It was Daemon Targaryen’s deep voice, and she looks at him a bit surprised, leaving her fork on the table as she covers her mouth, her hand unconsciously fetching wine, which Aemond hands her his.

“Prince Daemon” her melodic voice is a bit confused, and more so when the uncle of her husband extends his hand. The green fabrics from his suit are deep, yet he still wore dragon details on it, and he looked smug about it.

She turns to watch Aemond, his jaw tensing as he looks at Daemon. And he has to physically stop himself from cutting his uncle’s throat when his wife walks with him to join Helaena and the bastard. Aegon and he share a look, both upset and annoyed, as their wives are so freely dancing with other men.

Aemond watches her beautiful face, frowning as Daemon talks about something, whispering it closely so no one else hears it. His grip on the edge of his seat is strong; knuckles’ turning white as his jaw is tense, not looking pleased at all. And then, he hears her warm laugh, giggling at what he said, as her whole face brightened up.

Once they serve the pig in front of him and hear the little bastard giggles, it is enough to send him through a fit of rage.

He literally drags his wife by the arm after everything went downhill, after saying that stupid toast, after the Velaryon’s boys attempt to defend themselves (very badly) and both her husband and her good brother humiliate them.

“Dancing with him” Aemond murmurs, walking to their shared chambers, not minding seeing the servants stop and look at them both. “Accepting it, and giggling to his jokes as he shamelessly flirts with you”

“It was politeness...” her voice is weak when protesting.

“Did he mocked me for having only one eye?” He asks roughly. “Did he told you how beautiful your are and how full your breasts are?”

She opens her mouth a bit taken aback by his lewds remarks. “I am dutiful to what it’s expected of me. I wouldn't have allowed him to mock you”

“You should…”

“My family’s words are Family. Duty. Honour. And you know I care for that very deeply.” she says as she tries to keep up with his long steps “And I did just what was asked…”

“You are mine” he states, walking inside his chambers as his grip does nothing but become stronger. “My wife and you are… putting yourself in display for my uncle, laughing at his flirting. I know your family words are important for you, but this is… beyond that”

Perhaps it was her confused eyes or her angelic face, but he loosened up his grip yet he kept talking.

“He wanted you! To have you below him and fuck you like a… wench or… or some kind of…”

“I know”

Aemond turns drastically, eye twitching at his wife's words.

“You knew?”

“It was being cordial. It was duty. To amend broken ties…”

“I will break and burn and turn into ashes any ties from you to him” he says exasperated, insane with jealousy. His eye is wide, twitching in rage as he cannot believe this. She was his wife.

Seeing Daemon’s hand grip on her hip, almost groping her, made him insane. Because he knew that Lady Tully, beautiful as the Maiden, a beloved goddess amongst the poor and rich, could do so much better than him. Yet, she still chooses him.

��Get naked” he says simply.

“What?”

“You heard me just right. Get. Naked.” He says again, not wanting a negative.

Her whine is endearing, as she starts taking off little by little. Her gown, the diminutive buttons at the back, her collar, and her hellish headpiece.

“Let me” he grumbles as he helps her take off the headpiece, tossing it aside more carefully.

She is possibly the most beautiful when she is naked. Round breasts, even fuller thanks to lactating, and her body was tempting enough to anyone.

“Undress me” he says instead. He took delight when she was the one serving him, in this way. He loved to see her desperation, her eagerness for him. His jerkin is out in no time, and she kneels to undo his breeches.

Because she had an angelic face, but it was only he who knew how obsessed she was with his cock. She could spend hours lying on the bed, sucking his cock as she rested her head on his abdomen as Aemond read. She wouldn’t even suck him off properly, his wife would only suck the tip, give kitten licks, and lazily press some kisses. During hours and hours.

“I forbid you to speak to any one of them. Ever again”

Confused eyes turned up to look at him, as the careful hands undid his breeches, almost a bit eagerly. “Forbid?”

“Hm. It’s what I said, is it not?” He says, narrowing his eye as if asking to be defied.

“But it’s mad” she protests, frowning. “I promised Jace and Baela a tour in the gardens, and it would be impolite if I didn’t spoke-”

“Too bad” his voice cuts the conversation, and he is not leaving it up for conversation.

“You are being irrational...”

“And you are being a fucking brat” he spats, grabbing her chin as he bites his lower lip. “I’ll show you how irrational I can get”

Her eyes watched him, almost too innocent for her own good. It made him hard; he could feel his cock stirring on his untied breeches.

“Fucking slut, giving yourself to other men” his tone is harsh, but by the way her knees move, to accommodate the weight as he grips her chin, he knows that she is aroused. So is he.

Lady Tully was beautiful, and a box of surprises with everything, he realised with time. He had everyone trapped under her charms, and kept her secrets very private. And he loved it.

“Whore.” His hand leaves her chin, only to move it to slap her across the face.

She gasps, her face turned. It wasn’t harsh, yet the sting was burning on her skin, as she placed a hand on her cheek. To foreign eyes, he just slapped his wife. But he has done it before, to her request. Aemond knew that if his wife was enraged by that, he would have been beaten over and over, because she was kind, but didn’t stand for people dishonouring her.

Aemond, more gently places his hand back on her chin, pulling it so she can look at him. “You will learn your place” Aemond says, as she looks up at him, with those meek eyes of hers. He loved her eyes. “Open your mouth”

He leaned down, his mouth opening over hers, so near that she could feel his hot breath. His hand goes to wrap the bright red hair of hers, and his firm grip got her head secured.

Perhaps Aemond would kiss those perfect lips, yet he pulled back and released a strand of saliva directly into her waiting mouth. Aemond’s fingers tightened the grip in her hair, as his other hand came up to wipe away the excess of spit.

“There is my good girl” he murmurs, looking at her. “Mhm. I’m going to teach you a lesson”

Aemond lifts his wife to her feet as if she weighs nothing, his grip on her hair almost dragging her to the bed, forcefully as he heard her little whines. He had a moment or two to decide which position suited best, for then to grab her hips and guide her to be on her hands and knees. He grabs the long red hair once again, angling her head to the side, because Aemond needed to see her face the same way he needed air.

She was soaking wet, and that is a satisfaction for her husband. Aemond accommodated behind her, watching her body as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

“Such a sweet little cunt” he growls, his eye flashing with lust and desire as he thrusts into her from behind, in one swift motion.

Her whimpers and pants are loud, as she grips on the sheets as her back is arched. She was desperate to be filled and fucked, not something unusual. The unusual thing was that… nothing happened.

“Aemond” She whines, moving her head to watch him from above her shoulder. She had that desperate, pitiful appearance that he loved.

“Yes, my love?” He asks almost nonchalantly, watching her ass, and how his cock is fully sank inside her

She can barely think straight as his dick is deep inside her, throbbing in her walls as she just needs him to start fucking her. “Eh… move?”

“I don’t think so” he murmurs, his hand moving to caress her ass to his liking. “You’ll have to fuck yourself on my cock” His wife opens her mouth, confused as her eyebrows frown in hesitation. “Show me how much you need me” he says simply, he was fucking teasing her. “How much you need my cock”

Feeling the thick length of Aemond’s cock inside her, she accommodates on her hands, slowly moving away just to sink down onto his cock again. Her slick walls gripping him tightly as she impales herself on his thick cock.

“Aemond… Fu-uck, you feel… oh, yes…” She whimpers, and her voice is filled with pleasure as her pussy starts getting pounded as she liked so much. If Lady Tully liked something in life, was probably getting fucked until her mind is mush.

Her hips start moving on their own accord, as she grips on the sheets, trying to keep a stable posture to move her hips better, as her moans are obscenely loud, trying to get his cock deeper and deeper. Aemond leaves a groan, watching how she sinks down on his cock, and it is an image that would make any man cum in seconds. He truly was the luckiest man ever.

He feels the fire in his stomach tighten, as her moans grew more and more delighted to the feeling of his cock pounding into her. At first, she had thought of it as promiscuous, and asked the maiden for forgiveness, but gods damn her if it wasn’t the best thing in life to get a good fuck from the love of her life.

“So responsive when getting a cock in your needy pussy” Aemond mutters, as one of his hands raises to spank her ass, the sharp slap only serves for the sounds coming out of her mouth to increase, and he spanks her again, and again, and again, to his own amusement and delight.

“Please, Aemond…”

“You just love misbehaving with me, because you know I will put you in your place” he says, moving forward to her body to grip his hair with his right hand, his left goes right next to her hand gripping the sheets to hold his weight. “Because you are a needy whore” he states, gripping her hair as she nods forcefully.

“Yes” she says, in that whiny tone of hers. He knows her reactions yet every time they aroused him even more. “Yes, please”

The grip on her hair only serves to help him push her back against his cock, his hips now making the effort to start properly pounding into her cunt as she loved; hard, rough and at a deliciously good pace. Her body is practically numb as he starts to use her body for his own pleasure, just as she loved.

Who would have said that the most beautiful woman on earth loved being used by her husband? Definitely not him. She was the most perfect creature, in any way. Smart, funny, pretty, a good wife and mother. And yet she always craved his cock, like the filthiest whores of Flea Bottom.

“Let those bastards hear you, hm?” He asks, as he leans to speak lowly near her ear. “How it’s your husband who pleases you. Perhaps my uncle will get the notion that you are mine. Only mine. Fucking mine. That fucking dodderer will die by my hand if he ever dares to lay his eyes on you”

The mere thought infuriates him, making his hips slam into her harder and more feral. Rutting into her cunt in an animalistic pace as he has to clench his jaw in rage. His hand on her hair and the other on her waist, he groans at the feeling of her soaking cunt.

The sobs he hears as his cock keeps on pounding into her sweet spot, makes him smug enough, and even more aroused. His sweet lady wife, so prone to cry when she had too much pleasure when she got overwhelmed with lust.

“Please, please…” the round of pleas comes up with her tears, and Aemond moans, shamelessly, as he was so close. “I can’t t-take i-it… anymo-ore”

“Oh, you will” he says through gritted teeth as he lets go of her hair, only for his other hand to go to her shoulder to help her get his dick deeper. “I will breed you. Cum so deep that my seed takes root, and everyone will know who you belong to.”

Her nods between sobs, pleas and trembling legs help him pound in feral thrusts into her, feeling her cunt already milking him, inner walls attempting to squeeze his dick inside and never let it go.

“Cum for me, my love” he murmurs, still fucking her deep and nice how she likes it. “My beautiful wife” he murmurs, besotted by her as she cries, her tears rolling down her rosy cheeks with little freckles that he adored.

The little spasms of her body, her wails and the way her cunt squeezes him, it’s enough to drive him to the edge, holding her body down into his cock as he moans loudly, rolling his eye back in pleasure as he cums hard. She whimpers, whining a bit as his seed just keeps on filling her, his balls tensing up as his grip will probably leave her delicate skin with red marks.

He is caring afterwards, as he cleans her with a towel, or when he places her in bed and covers her, lying by her side each time as she snuggles to him.

“You have to know–” she says softly, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “You are hot when jealous”

Aemond huffs, grumbling about it a bit as he seems reluctant. It amuses her.

“You always find me hot, I could be… Killing a chicken and you would be leaking”

“Get on my place for a moment, please, just imagine how your muscles would flex” she says dead serious and he rolls his eye amused, as the corners of his lips gives him away.

The fixation on his hair would be a problem if he didn’t love her so much. Aemond allows his lady Tully to braid it as they talk in bed.

“I didn’t really mean it” he says softly.

“Hm?” She asks curious, her fingers working on a single small braid on his hair.

“You can talk to them” he says through gritted teeth. “Just-... not too much”

Her little laugh warms his heart. “Very well” she says amused. “For each sentence I say to them, I will suck you”

“I retract myself, talk to them very much, all you like” he says, and it has her giggling. “You know I love you…” he says; as it comes into his view her concentrated face, her tongue coming out of her pink lips as she was focused. He could see the freckles that he so adored, and her pretty eyes. How he loved her.

“You know I love you more…” she says fixing his braid to stick to his hair. Her mouth forms a pleased smile as she sits, as she inspects her work. “Yes. Seems pretty nice”

He could feel the hair strand tight, and he moved his hand to touch his head. “What in the Seven Hells you did to my hair, woman?”

She looks very pleased as she giggles, her body accommodating against his chest as she shrugs innocently, as he keeps on playfully trying to decipher what his wife did to his hair.

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