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two-white-butterflies · 2 years ago

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a man who knows | aem. targaryen

Description: Aemond falls in love with a commoner.

Rating: Mature 18+ [angst]

Author's Note: finished watching Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral, so this is defo inspired by Remedios x Gregorio.

(THE HOUSE WITH THE RED DOOR, ESSOS)

He woke up in the middle of a humid room. A woman was staring at him - with widened eyes that were surprised to see him alive. She was wearing a cotton dress, a cheap fabric that was easily available to the lower classes - he could make out the gentle slope of her curves. If she was whore, then she was in the wrong bed.

"Water," he managed to choke out.

"Here," you replied - handing him a goblet of water. It came as a surprise when you saw this man lying in the middle of the fields - he smelled like smoke, ash and pig - but he was breathing. You couldn't bare leaving him alone to die. "Where am I?" he inquired, eyes searching the room for any signs of danger.

"E-Essos," you stuttered seeing that he was clueless.

His accent sounded Westrosi - his attire was for royals, and he didn't know where he was?

"Fuck, Vhagar." he cursed, attempting to stand up - the pain on his shoulder causes him to fall back on the bed. "I'm sorry is there someone waiting for you?" you ask and he shakes his head. His family didn't even know that he left. "I must return to Westeros, I offer my thanks for keeping me here - my lady. But I must leave." he thanked, searching his pockets for the gold that he kept.

His jaw clenches feeling that it wasn't there.

He removes the dagger from the scabbard, pointing it at your jugular. "Thief," he accused with venom - seeing the life drain out of your face. You suddenly turn pale - not the kind that looks like paper, but the kind that warrants fear.

"Release her," your father commanded in a cold tone, his eye trails towards your father - still dressed in his commander's attire. "Your servant has stolen from me," he accused - still not wanting to take the dagger away form your neck. "She is my daughter, and she is in no need of your gold." your father corrected.

Aemond slowly lets you go.

"I apologize," he says rigidly - unamused to see you sprint away.

Aemond cursed himself. His first mistake was calling the commander's daughter a 'servant', his second mistake was placing a dagger on her neck. Oh, he was fucked - he wouldn't make it back alive. His older sister will win the war without him. Damn all.

"I understand that you are from the west, Prince Aemond. How is life there?" the man asked, taking a bite of his meat. The entire halls were decorated with gold and silver - the magnitude of its splendor rivaled his own home. "It is as the same as it is here, my lord." he replied cautiously - thinking of ways to seek the man's sponsor.

His eye trails towards the occupants of the table. One was an older woman with red hair and pale green eyes, she wore jewels - one that shone like moonlight. One was a maiden with a ring om her finger - but she was wearing back ('A widow' he thought) and beside her was you.

"Well, have a pick of my daughters - they are young and intelligent. Although I must admit, you scared my youngest with your little show." he chuckled, pointing at his five daughters. They were all beautiful - of different kinds, but he was drawn to you. "Go ahead, apologize to her." the man pushed - excited to see a prince bow his head at his daughters.

"The daughters of this house are not frightened with a simple attack, father - and worry not my prince, it wasn't your fault." you open your mouth before he could open his. A smile is etched on his face. "I agree with you, my lady - which is why I must apologize." he lowered his head - seeing that your face was illuminated by the candle's rays.

"If you agree with me, then you do not need to apologize." you smiled bitterly, satisfied with his displacement. He clenches his fists, but continues eating with joy. Your father laughs, proud of you.

"Of course, it matters not - one should always apologize for an accident caused by one." Aemond argued, not wanting to lose. "Then apologize," you moved an eyebrow, changing the tides upon him. You wanted to know if he was truly sorry - or if he wanted to fight with you. "I'm sorry, fair lady." he smiled playfully, ending the banter.

"I don't accept your apology," you crossed your arms - earning shy giggles from your sisters. "What can I do to earn your approval?" he flirted - amused by your spitfire nature. You didn't respond to him after that - you were never the one to flirt with another man. You weren't one of those cheap fucks - you were the youngest daughter of the greatest general in the free cities - he had to earn you.

"The most intelligent girl in town - not one suitor dares to fight for her hand." a servant mumbles while following Aemond and Alvira down the small market. "I apologize for my sister yesterday, she's always been the most rebellious - but we all adore her." she smiled, adjusting her youngest son to be settling on her hips.

Alvira was a petite girl - she barely reached Aemond's shoulders. She was the oldest of all five siblings - the wife of a slave master. She handled her father's household while her husband managed warfare. "She is interesting," he responded for lack of a better word.

"Papa has been trying hard to find someone who would marry her - but such is the nature of the youngest child. She's the last to leave the nest - if she ever does." she chuckled, eyes filled with love. "Do you have siblings, my prince?" the woman asked and his eye shrinks.

Does he have siblings?

He has an older brother who doesn't deserve his post. An older brother who is the reason for his sleepless nights. An older brother that he'd die for - but would never support.

He has an older sister with white hair and milky skin. Her stories were like lullabies and he'd burn the world if it meant keeping her safe. He has a younger brother. He'd burn the world for him too.

"Yes," he responded plainly - passing the stall filled with fresh oranges. He sees you there again - inspecting the fruits for the right tenderness. "(Your Name)" your sister calls, placing a hand to your shoulder. "Have you chosen the oranges for father's cake?" she asked and you shake your head.

"All of them are too tender, some are too hard." you complained with annoyance. "Let me help you," Aemond took a step forward - unaware that your shoulders bumped with each other. He reaches for a fruit, bringing it to his nose. "This one," he announces - placing it inside your basket.

Your eyebrows merge into each other - reaching for the fruit and touching it.

He was right, it was perfect.

"I'll leave the both of you, Saif is about to cry." Alvira stated while looking at her son's face. Red and annoyed, it was.

"Alright, please stay safe." you remind, smiling at the band of servants that were walking after her. "Aren't you going to leave with her? I'm not here to entertain you, princeling." you rolled your eyes, quickly walking towards the other side of the market.

Aemond couldn't help but smile at your dismissal of him. He keeps following you - waiting until you send him away. "Will you stop following me?" you groan, holding the basket close to your body while one of the guards paid for you. "No," he answered - and for a second, he forgets about the conflict in his home. He forgets about war.

"Childish," you mumbled - aware of the eyes on you. The rumors will spead tomorrow, but today - he was your only problem.

He could hear music from the other side of the island - locals were dancing and playing their instruments. "Would you like to join them?" he asked, trailing behind you with his hands inside his pockets. "I don't dance, princeling." you hum - already used to his company. "There's always a first time for everything," he shrugged. "I'd rather not," you roll your eyes - feeling the music invade your eardrums. "Would you rather speak of business? I heard that it bores you," he warned.

He needed gold to travel back to his home - seeing that Vhagar had no plans in returning. Your father was the only one who could provide him with that. He needed your help.

"Anything that comes out of your mouth bores me," you insult.

"Watch me dance, it'll entertain you." he dared, taking the hat off your head and placing it upon his own. "Give it back," you internally groan but he keeps dancing, leading you towards the center of the crowd.

"Not if you dance first, my lady."

The both of you only grew closer with every passing day.

"Dragons, you're fascinated with them?" Aemond takes a step inside your room, gazing upon the tapestries that decorated it. He recognized a few dragons, namely Balerion and Vhagar. "My mother was a whore from Lys - she came from the blood of Valyria." you informed, placing three books on your bedside.

"I wouldn't be shocked to see you capable of riding a dragon," he chuckled - in bitter remembrance of his own. "How about you, my prince? When will your dragon return?" you asked - excited to see her.

He sat upon one of the day-beds, popping a grape inside his mouth. "Only Vhagar knows when she'll return. If she ever does, which is why I need your help - and you're gold to sequester a ship to Westeros." he replied with a sigh. He almost forgot about the war - he almost forgot about his duties.

"I'm afraid I am as goldless as you." you admit.

All of the gold you partially owned - belonged to your father.

"Your father then, you must help me convince him." he pleaded, and you take a step forward - sitting beside him. "My father will only do it if you give him something in return." you informed.

Your father was kind - but he was cunning. Aemond was aware of your insinuation - your father wanted marriage.

The gods were on his side - because the following day, his dragon landed upon your family's courtyard. Screaming for her rider. "Tis' not everyday that one sees a dragon," Meena smiles - leaning on the pillars for support. She was a warrior - like your father and she garnered the same fascination with dragons as you.

"Commander (Your Last Name), I thank you for the hospitality that you've shown me. I'm afraid that I have to cut my visit short, as duty calls for me in the other side of the sea." he smiled at your father, holding a dragon saddle in his right hand.

"Anything you ask of, my lord - I will give it to you." he thanked but your father waves him away. It was an interesting premise but the commander had no interest in dipping into the politics of a kingdom far beyond his reach. "All we ask of, is for you to remain safe." Irri bowed her head.

You were the last person that he wanted to offer his goodbyes. "I had fun," he smiled in a strangely stoic posture. He'd never forget your family - he'd never forget the red door that had lemon trees in the garden. "Vhagar has been kind to me," you answer - touching the dragon's snout with care. "Dragons fascinate you, there are dozens more back home. You can leave with me, nothing ties you here." he offered - holding hope that a romance could blossom.

"A man does not offer escape with a woman - if he does not hold a little love for her." you smiled teasingly. He was a prince, yet he was cut from the same cloth as the rest. You could read him like an open book. "He does." he admits, placing a hand on Vhagar's back. "I like you, and I want to love you. I find you interesting." he professed.

His eye twinkles in the sunlight.

"I like you too." you respond with a blush. "I packed a few letters in your saddle pocket, I hope that you'll read them." you touch his shoulder - pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"This is the end, then? I'll never see you again." he says for certain.

"Then, I've had the honor of knowing you - at least once in my lifetime."

(HARENHALL, WESTEROS)

Aemond sat by the fire, finally finding the courage to open the letter from you. He hasn't stopped thinking about you - regretting to ever step foot back inside his home. Helaena was dead now - his nephews and nieces were cold in the ground. There was no family to protect.

My prince,

I've only begun to realize that I don't know your name. I don't know your name yet I've fallen deeply and madly inclined with you. I adore you, but I cannot say that I love you. I cannot love a man who is not truly mine. You tell me that you are a warrior - and that I have no doubts. You are the strongest of the strong - the loveliest of the lovely, but I cannot reach you. I cannot reach a hero.

I can only love you when I know for certain that you are mine. I can only love you when you know that your duty in the battlefield is over, and that you have reached your limit. But you are not that - not yet.

And so, I will adore and like you from afar. Adoring and liking a man in the clouds that I will never reach.

Yours, (Your Name).

He finishes reading the letter - he looks outside the window to see his uncle camped outside the castle. My name is Aemond. He says to himself, saddened at the thought of you never knowing him by name. And I'll come back to you.

@bellstwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @fan-goddess @mizfortuna

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