#Pleasure of A Dark Prince | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

councilofcastamere · 2 months ago

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WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

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say-al0e · 5 months ago

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Electric Touch

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, Minors DNI!

Summary: Following your marriage to Prince Aemond, you did not imagine there would be a bedding ceremony. Nor did you imagine yourself falling so quickly for the one-eyed prince. But you quickly learned he was more than met the eye. | Ft. Anon request for "“What part of I want you and only you do you not understand?” + “Love makes you weak but, god, I’d rather be weak with you by my side than face a life without you.” Warnings: Bedding ceremony, PinV, guarded Aemond, Aegon is an asshole (briefly, then he's gone), one mention of death in childbirth (not graphic, very brief), allusion to Aemond's brothel trip. Anything I missed, let me know and I'll tag it. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader (wife!Reader) Word Count: 5.1k Requests are Open | HotD Taglist

The fire blazing in Aemond’s eye was not what you expected. It was not fueled by desire, a lust for his new bride or the exciting conquest of claiming your maidenhead as you’d long been warned. It was not bright or joyous, a fire befitting the occasion of your wedding night. Instead, it was dark - angry, a wild blaze threatening to torch everything in its path with little regard for the consequences.

Though your new husband had been nothing but kind to you, polite and even occasionally charming, for the first time since stepping foot into King’s Landing, you finally understood why so many tended to avert their gaze lest they face Aemond’s ire.

Before you stood Aemond One-Eye, a fierce dragon rider whose presence commanded attention, and you struggled to keep from withering beneath his gaze as you held his dark look with an even one of your own.

Around you, his apartments teemed with life. Drunken revelers laughed as they surged into the room and circled the pair of you, some of them shouting tawdry jokes while others lamented the loss of the right to the first night. Regardless of their mood, it seemed as if every man in the realm fought to be at your side in a room that once felt so spacious but now left you struggling to catch your breath as they began tugging at pieces of your clothing.

As many hands clumsily tugged at well-tied laces and the heavy fabric of your gown, a few highborn ladies - friends you’d made in the short time you’d been at Court - dutifully removed Aemond’s clothes with much less vigor than their husbands or brothers or cousins.

Aegon led the charge, grin on his lips and breath reeking of wine as he leaned in close. Aemond’s gaze faltered for only a moment, turning to his brother and flashing a warning even the drunkest of men could read very clearly, before it returned to you as Aegon pointedly ignored him. Your drunken good-brother chose, instead, to tip your chin with fingers sticky with wine and draw your gaze away from your husband.

“Do not worry, good-sister,” he began, voice loud, despite his performative attempt at a whisper. He spared Aemond a look, eyes glinting with a mirth that bordered on malice - before he returned his gaze to you. “I made sure my brother was well-educated in the art of pleasure but should you find yourself wanting, you need only say the word.”

By design, you were not given the chance to respond. The last of your garments was removed from your body and Aegon released his grip on your chin to grab your waist.

The sea of revelers parted. Amidst a cacophony of cheers and jeers, a few murmurs as to how it was a shame your father had agreed to wed you to a man they saw as less than whole, Aegon and one of his friends carried you through the crowd and deposited you into Aemond’s bed.

It was only when you were settled amongst the furs and linens that they were all finally ushered out of the room.

If you were honest, it surprised you that Aemond allowed the bedding ceremony in the first place. The idea was put forth by his brother, a suggestion he’d barely blinked an eye at, but it was plain to see just how adversely the entire spectacle affected him as he approached the bed.

Aemond Targaryen, the very image of his house’s beauty and fire, stood before you with his face a mask of composure you had yet to see fully slip. There were cracks, glimpses into the churning abyss that lingered just beneath the calm surface, and you could see them beginning to spread as a jeer from the crowd echoed just beyond the steel and wood of the door.

There was a flash of hurt, a glimpse so brief you felt certain you’d imagined it, before he swallowed and his jaw tensed. He steeled himself, his resolve, and you could see the mask slip back into place.

“My prince,” you began, voice far quieter than you intended as you sat upright to meet his gaze. “I do not-“

A hum escaped your new husband as he stepped closer, pressing a knee into the soft surface beneath you and shaking his head slightly. “We will speak when there is no crowd standing guard just outside, waiting for evidence our marriage has been consummated. For now, we must fulfill our duty as husband and wife.”

There was an edge of finality in his tone, no room left for argument as he reached for you. Though his touch was not harsh, not as insistent or eager as the men who’d taken great joy in stripping you bare, it was firmer than you’d expected. In the weeks of your courtship, he’d lended an arm as you descended the steps in the garden or offered a hand as you climbed them - each touch soft, almost tentative, and as brief as could be considered proper.

It was wistful, possibly even naive, to believe the softness of his touch was affection or that it would continue as he pressed you back into the pillows. Aemond was not an outwardly affectionate man, that much you knew to be true, nor was he used to being treated so tenderly. His life had been one lived in a gilded cage, acquiescing to everything expected of him with little argument and even less connection. Love would not come easy to him, nor would affection.

Only time would bring him comfort, trust in you and the ability to be vulnerable, so you made no argument as he settled himself over you.

The dim candlelight made it difficult to see much - and you wondered how Aemond might react if you allowed yourself to savor the sight of him - but you took the brief chance you were offered to study him. Tall, lithe, muscular; he looked every bit the fearsome dragon rider and well-trained swordsman. Pale hair cascaded over his shoulders, a curtain that cast shadows over the sharp features of his face, but you could clearly see the intrigue in his eye as you lifted your hand to gently cradle his jaw.

Had you not been studying him so closely, so desperate to see some glimpse of warmth beneath the cool surface of your new husband, you might’ve missed his sharp inhale or the way his eye narrowed. Had you not been so enthralled by his appearance, you might’ve missed the way he swallowed or the split second he allowed himself to lean into your careful touch before the impassive mask returned.

Friends, some long married with babes while others had just wed, whispered and giggled when they shared what you could expect. Most of your friends lamented the act itself, thankful only that it often seemed to be over quickly, as many of their husbands were older lords in need of young wives to produce heirs. It seemed that few cared much at all about their wives’ pleasure and you’d wondered throughout your courtship if Aemond - though young, a man of your own age - might prove similar.

Now that the time had come to find out, you still felt wholly uncertain.

For a long moment, Aemond simply studied you. The deep lilac of his eye traced your face, shadowed by his hair and framed by your own locks - now free from the style your handmaids worked so hard to perfect - and his lips parted. He seemed poised to speak, though before he could, the sound of fists pounding the wood of the door broke whatever spell existed in the solace of the room.

Loud jeers from a drunken crowd reminded you both of your purpose, the reason you had been stripped bare for half the kingdom to see, and Aemond was the first to act.

Though you hoped for little and expected even less, Aemond wanted nothing more than to prove everyone wrong. He wanted to prove that he could be a husband, an adequate lover, a man who had everything and more. You had no way of knowing his motivation, not then, but you could see the flame in his eye as his hand fell to your hip.

With the hand still cradling his jaw, you managed to hold him in place as you leaned up and pressed your mouth to his. Since speaking your vows earlier in the night, you’d managed to steal two chaste kisses from your new husband - one just after the ceremony, in the few seconds you had alone before the feast began; the other, tucked in a corner before you were whisked away for the bedding. He responded well to both, stepping just an inch closer and allowing his lips to linger for a long moment, and you were pleased to find that he responded just as well to this kiss.

The ladies at court often lamented their husbands’ lack of skill or desire to share a kiss. They all sighed and confessed that the men found no use for it, no fun in it. It made you wonder if Aemond was humoring you, allowing you the kiss that seemed almost tender in nature, in return for your maidenhead - for your hand, your house’s newly pledged loyalty - but you knew well enough that your new husband was not one to indulge in anything he did not want to.

Hope bloomed, then, just beneath your ribcage that he might, someday, even grow to enjoy it as much as you suddenly found that you did.

Calloused hands began to explore your skin, touch light for a fleeting moment - almost reverent, almost tentative - before it grew steadier, more certain. The tips of his fingers left a path of fire in their wake, his skin always running hotter than anyone you’d ever met, and you nearly expected to find a visible path seared over the expanse of your torso as his hands dipped to your thighs.

As of yet there had been little outward sign of affection from your husband - everything felt like a courtesy, the actions of a well-educated prince, chivalrous out of duty only - and you knew that it might be wishful thinking to believe the slow drag of your husband’s hand up your inner thigh was anything more than slight trepidation. But you swore you could see the anger that burned so bright only moments ago morph into something closer to lust, desire, need.

Aemond’s fingers pressed firm into the plush of your thighs as he parted them and you bit the inside of your cheek to smother your gasp as his sharp gaze finally raked over your bare skin.

For all the wandering eyes, the lustful gazes that burned into your skin as so many lords of the realm crowded into the small room, it struck you in that moment that Aemond waited until you were alone to truly look. He waited until you were pliant beneath him, until you’d sated your own curiosity about him, to allow himself a glance at anything other than your face.

And despite the insistent jeers of the crowd beyond the door, he seemed determined to take you as he wished.

“They are expecting to hear us,” he reminded you as his fingers drew closer to your center. “Do not deprive us all of your charming voice.”

A handful of compliments had been levied at you from your new husband - more in regard to your intelligence than your most beautiful gowns, though one had ended with him calling you beautiful - but you still felt your cheeks heat as his fingers grazed your slit.

The swipe of his fingers was almost clumsy, less self-assured than he always seemed to be, but the thought gave you some comfort. Neither of you could disappoint the other if you were on somewhat equal footing.

Aemond’s touch grew more insistent, more assured, from the moment his fingers grazed the small bundle of nerves that wrenched a gasp from your throat and had your nails pressing into the muscle of his shoulders. He focused there, thumb circling the now aching pearl, as his fingers gathered the increasing slick. The deep lilac of his eye had almost vanished, replaced nearly entirely by lust-blown black, but it remained on your face - watching intently with every noise that spilled from your lips.

As desperately as you wanted to close your eyes, to hide from the intensity in his gaze, you found yourself unable to look away from his face. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the barely there flush that set high upon his cheeks; he was beautiful, regal, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Gevi,” you breathed, hoping the word sounded as effortless falling from your own lips as it did from his. Your thumb brushed his cheek, just beneath his scar, and you could see the flash of an emotion you could not recognize in his eye.

For a moment, he remained silent, fingers slowing to a barely there press, before he tipped his head. Your hand slipped, fell to his jaw, and you realized it was calculated - purposeful - even as his gaze softened. “My clever wife,” he hummed, matter-of-factly, as the corner of his mouth lifted in something akin to a smile. “Full of surprises.”

A response formed on the tip of your tongue, nowhere near as witty as you hoped for, but the press of Aemond’s fingers into your core stole your breath and all coherent thought. The sensation was odd, unlike any you’d ever experienced, and you could feel your brows furrow as your body attempted to make sense of what was happening. It was not as unpleasant as you expected, nor as pleasurable as you hoped for, but you imagined that both would come in time.

Despite his appearance, his brusque manner, Aemond was not harsh. His touch was no longer soft, no longer tentative, and you could still feel the weight of his hands on your thighs despite his touch having moved, but he seemed to take note of the way you winced when his fingers began to press a little too quickly - a little too hard - and adjusted accordingly.

Soon enough, you found a delicate rhythm - an insistent press of his fingers, an exploration unlike any you’d ever felt, as you used the grip on his jaw to pull him into another kiss.

This kiss was different, heavier. It was hungry, a clash of teeth and tongue and noses that made the backs of your eyes sting. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a bite harsh enough to draw blood, and you inhaled sharply as he lapped at the copper staining your lips.

The copper tang seemed to spur Aemond on, remind him of his duty and the audience waiting for it to be done. He moved with a renewed vigor, with a confidence you’d quickly come to associate with him. His fingers pressed deeper, searching, and he only seemed content when you broke the kiss to fill the room with a breathless moan of his name.

Warmth spread over your skin, a combination of his body heat surrounding you and your own pleasure coursing through your veins. Every swipe of his fingers, every circle of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, made the edges of your vision white and the air harder to obtain.

It was then, as your stomach tied itself into knots and your nails sank into the toned skin of his back - his shoulders, his chest, his arms; wherever you could reach, desperate for some tether to reality - that he replaced his fingers with the filling warmth of his cock.

With every noise that fell from your lips, the noise outside the door grew louder. It felt as if the whole of the realm waited just beyond the wood, ears pressed to the door, and Aemond seemed acutely aware of your audience. Gone were the tentative touches, the firm but still careful brushes of his hands. After a few careful initial presses of his hips to yours, he began to sink into you in earnest.

A cry of his name rang through the room, fanning the flames of the fire outside, and your body seemed trapped in the path of the blaze.

Every word of gossip you’d heard from friends seemed true, impossibly, all at once. There was an ache between your thighs, a stinging pain that replaced the pleasant ache of desire, and a dull pinch at your hip as Aemond’s fingers pressed into your skin. The entire room was too hot, almost stifling, and the noise rang in your ears. The tawdry jokes and laughter in the hall, the rustle of linen, the lewd sound of Aemond’s cock pressing into your center, the keening of your moans, the huff of his breath; it was almost too much.

Each sensation that washed over you was distinct but beginning to muddle together.

Despite yourself, your best efforts to take the affection given to you by your husband and appreciate them, you found yourself hoping for something softer, something easier, something better.

Aemond was lost in that moment, stuck somewhere in the back of his own mind, and you could only whisper his name in hopes that he might allow you a moment to catch your breath.

“Aemond, I - please.” The whispered plea, gasped into the night air and barely audible over the cheers still echoing in the hall, seemed to break his reverie. It returned him to the moment at hand - the pinch of your brows as the ache between your thighs plagued you, the curve of your mouth as you fought to keep your composure, the sting of your nails biting into his shoulder - and gave him pause.

The snap of his hips faltered, slowed from the near manic thrusts to something more even, and you eased the grip on his shoulder as you inhaled eagerly.

That deep purple gaze swept across your face, searching for something you could not readily provide, before he squeezed your hip in what you chose to interpret as an apology. You accepted it, easily, and offered him a tentative smile as he continued pressing forward - still firm, still deep, only slower now.

Giggles from the past, old whispers that there was real pleasure to be found in bed, began to return to the forefront of your mind as Aemond’s new pace began to replace the pinch and ache between your thighs with that devastating warmth you’d only just experienced. Everything felt too hot, too bright, too much, and the thought must have been clearly written across your face as Aemond hummed.

“Take your pleasure,” he encouraged, voice low in your ear as he leaned in close. “Then, I shall have mine.”

Warmth continued to flood your veins. Fire lapped at your skin, consuming you entirely, and you took no notice of the noise that escaped your parted lips as you allowed Aemond to continue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The end was as beautiful as you’d heard, as blissful, and you could feel yourself melting into the plush of the bed as goosebumps erupted across your skin and your heart thundered in your chest. All that mattered in that moment was Aemond; the weight of him atop you, the warmth of his skin as he pressed himself impossibly closer, the low rasp of his voice as he all but whispered expletives.

That pleasure was only heightened by the warmth that flooded you as Aemond stilled atop you, a curse on his lips and head thrown back.

It was a beautiful sight - something worthy of committing to memory, something so beautiful you only hoped to see it again and again. And you only hoped your new husband felt the same as he tipped his head to study you once more.

Aemond lingered only for a moment, his gaze softer than you’d seen directed at you, before he pulled away. Another squeeze to your waist was the only affection he spared before he stood and pulled the white line from his bed. He shifted you carefully - almost tenderly - to remove the fabric then strode across the expanse of the room to the door.

Without ceremony, he wrenched it open and tossed the stained fabric into the crowd.

A loud cheer echoed through the halls, drunken revelers delighting in the evidence of your consummation, but was quickly cut off with the slam of the heavy door.

The crowd grew quieter, noise drifting back in the direction of the hall still filled with older revelers - opting to spend their time discussing matters best saved for an in-person meeting - and you took the brief moment to catch your breath as Aemond did the same.

For just a moment, he lingered near the small table that held a pitcher and glasses, before filling them with wine and bringing them to bed. He handed you one, nodded his acknowledgement to your thanks, and settled back onto the plush fabric at your side.

Silence fell over the room then, a welcome but almost overwhelming lack of sound after hours surrounded by a cacophony of noise. For the first time since you woke that morning, you found that you could hear yourself think.

Every thought centered upon your new husband.

Aemond Targaryen was a mystery. Rumors about him swirled through the realm and whispers abounded at court. None seemed to be in agreement, however.

Some thought him to be fierce, a fearsome warrior who would make a fine knight should he find himself so inclined. Others insisted that Vhagar was his only asset and that he was nothing more than a loyal hound devoted to his family. Others still insisted that the only person Aemond could ever be loyal to was himself and his own interests.

There were whispers that he was cold, unfeeling. There were rumors that he had no interest in anything other than books, that living people meant little to him. But you were beginning to see the truth.

Try as he might to hide it, the nature of his soul that he buried so deeply, you were beginning to see him for who he truly was.

Aemond wanted the things he’d never been given. He sought reassurance, comfort, love. He wanted to be wanted - truly wanted, desired; not needed because he possessed the largest, oldest dragon. And though your match began as a political alliance, you hoped to prove that he was worthy of his desires as you shifted closer and reached for his hand.

“Aemond,” you began, voice quiet as you hoped desperately he would not push you away, even as he tensed. To your relief - and surprise - he did not. Instead, he simply glanced at your linked hands before turning his full attention to your face. “Believe what you wish, but I am glad that it is you I married. I do not want Aegon or any of the other lords lingering about the castle. I did not accept this betrothal without thought and I hope that you will believe me when I say there is no other I could want.”

Though it was slight, you could see the raise of his eyebrow. So, with a sigh, you placed your cup onto the table and grasped his hand with both of your own.

“When my father made it known that he intended to offer you my hand, I was given more attention at court than I ever wanted. I never cared much for it all, but suddenly, it seemed as if everyone wanted me to join them.” With a weary sigh, you began to trace nonsensical patterns over the back of his hand. “Everyone had a tale of Prince Aemond they wished to share. Some heard word from a brother or cousin, others whispered tales from their own trips to the Red Keep. I heard so many whispers about you that I began to lose track of who whispered what. I have always held whispers in little regard but it grew so frequent that I nearly worried I might meet a monster.”

The moment you paused, Aemond hummed thoughtfully. “Targaryen’s are said to be closer to gods than men. Perhaps monsters are included.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed, pausing your tracing to glance up at him from beneath your lashes. The deep lilac of his eye met yours and you felt your cheeks heat. “But you are no monster. You are just a man. I was given the chance to reject our union. One word, and I would’ve been spirited away to some lesser lord. But I chose to stay.”

“Why?”

It was a genuine question, accompanied by a look you recognized as being tinged with skepticism. In response, you smiled at him.

“Despite your flaws, real or imagined or embellished, I find myself drawn to you. You have the beauty and fire of your house. You are proud, but not a braggart, quiet but not without charm. You are a noted swordsman and a dragon rider, yet you take no pleasure in tourneys. You are young and capable, intelligent and thoughtful. Of all the qualities one could want in a husband, you possess most."

This earnest admission was met with yet another hum of acknowledgement from your husband, a thoughtful rumination as he allowed the compliment to linger for a moment. Only then, after seeming to savor your words, did he ask, “Which qualities do I lack, wife?”

Had you not grown so accustomed to studying every twitch of his brows, every curve of his mouth, you might’ve missed the hint of a smile he wore. It was a question asked in jest, teasing, and you allowed yourself a laugh.

“Time shall tell,” you assured him, returning his barely-there smile with a soft one of your own. “Though, I would never dare call you perfect, lest your head swell to the size of Vhagar’s.” Aemond allowed you a glimpse of a true smile then, fleeting, but you savored the sight just the same. It brought a strange warmth to your chest, wound the hope that bloomed beneath your ribcage into a tendril that squeezed your heart, and you offered his hand a gentle squeeze. “I understand why we were wed. But I have hope that even if we do not find love in one another, we shall find friendship at the least.”

“You would not ask for more?”

“Men’s battles are fought in fields, at sea, on dragon back,” you answered, carefully turning his hand in yours to trace his palm. “A woman’s battle is fought abed. If I were to die there, my only hope is that it would be for someone I cared for, someone who cared for me.”

That lilac eye studied your face once more, more intently, and you could see the weight of your words settling on his shoulders as he realized that he was no longer alone, nor did you have any misunderstandings as to what this life meant for you both. Though he was the spare, pushed down in the line of succession by his brother’s children, he was expected to have a family and in return for giving him heirs, all you asked of him was companionship.

“I believe you shall be a fierce warrior,” he declared, gaze dipping to your fingers gently sweeping across his heated skin.

“And I believe you are all I could have hoped for in a husband,” you confessed, hoping he might agree - that he might declare you to be all he could’ve hoped for in a wife.

And though he seemed unopposed to you, he instead asked, “Do you believe that truly?”

“I do,” you confirmed, pausing your tracing to meet his eye. “I’ve long been afraid of marriage, of becoming trapped with someone who cared little for me, but I am more afraid that growing to love you will be easier than I ever imagined.”

“Love makes you weak,” he all but whispered, though the words held little conviction and even less weight. They were the words of someone afraid, someone unused to love and affection, and you met them with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps it is a good thing we are married, then. I believe love makes you stronger. My father loved my mother and he fought like hell to return to her each and every battle he waged. Love provides motivation,” you offered, only to be met with another thoughtful hum. Rather than pressing, you shifted the conversation after a moment of silence. “Why did you allow the bedding ceremony?”

Aemond paused for a moment and seemed to consider his answer. “I had every intention of forgoing it,” he confessed, free hand tracing the lip of his glass. “Then, we met and it was selfish, I suppose. I have something most men in King’s Landing will covet - a comely wife from a noble house who has made me the sole object of her affection. Allowing the ceremony provided an opportunity to boast, to show that while they may look, you are mine. No other will know the pleasure of your company.”

The reasoning behind his allowance was understandable, even more so when you considered that he was the second son of a man who scarcely remembered his sons in the first place. It was not often he was given something others desired, not often he could be envied, and you could not begrudge him the opportunity he’d taken.

“I am yours,” you agreed, lifting his hand to place it over your heart. “While I believe love will make us stronger, I would not mind being seen as weak, just so long as you are by my side. Others may whisper or believe what they wish but know, lord husband, that I want you and you alone. I look forward to the future and hope the gods bless us with a long and happy marriage.”

“I shall leave faith to you,” he declared, though the words were softer than you believed he intended. “But I have little doubt that you will be left wanting.” Aemond turned, then, and removed the eyepatch covering his eye. The sapphire glimmered in the dim candlelight and you squeezed his hand to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

“Gevi,” you repeated, smiling upon the full face of your new husband.

Aemond’s mouth curved once more, a touch more noticeable, before he sighed and shifted to lie amongst the pillows. “Sleep, dear wife,” he encouraged, pulling you into the pillows at his side.

With the morning sun, your new life would begin. As tentative as you’d once been, you no longer felt any fear. There was far to travel, much to be gained in the way of your new husband’s trust, but you imagined he was right; neither of you would be left wanting, so long as you had the other.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: It's my first time writing for Aemond (or anything GoT/HotD related) so I hope it's alright. I didn't want to go too soft but I also didn't want to go too mean/cold? I dunno. Let me know what you think! :)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd smut #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond oneshot #v's fics #hotd imagine

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sapphiresandferrari · 5 months ago

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His sweet girl

Summary: Aemond catches feelings for one of the girls at the brothel and his brother, Aegon, almost ruined everything

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x ocf!reader

Warnings: emotionally constipated Aemond, cunt Aegon, implied smut, lactation kink if you squint, fluff

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm Rosie and this is my first fic ever

Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, feel free to give me advices or suggestion, just be polite

English is NOT my first language, so apologies if there are any mistakes

Gif credits: @aegonx

Enjoy 🫶🏻

Aemond doesn’t know exactly when se became so important to him.

One night he went to the brothel for his usual service, the last weeks has been hectic, everything was overwhelming, his father’s death, Aegon’s coronation and Luke’s death, so he had to find a way to release the stress that it wasn’t training with ser Criston Cole.

So, when he arrived at the pleasure house, he thought that Madame Sylvi was waiting for him like she usually did for the last weeks, instead, one of the servants informed him that Madame was unavailable for that night, but that she had chosen another girl that would satisfy him as much as she did.

Hearing those words, made him want to turn around and leave, not comfortable with the idea of opening himself with a different woman than the one he was used to, yet something inside of him didn’t want to leave, he thought that if Madame Sylvi has personally chosen this girl, then maybe he should’ve give it a shot and try, see how it was.

After all, she knew him and his needs, especially with all the times they laid together, so he decided to trust her judgement, and let the servant guiding him to the secluded area prepared for him.

Once he moved the curtain, he found a girl, no more than few years older than him, laying on the bed, surrounded by pillows and candles: she was wearing a sheer robe, her hair down, thick and long dark locks were covering her, in her eyes an expression he was having a hard time to decipher, a mix of excitement and fear.

She was staring at him, taking her time to admire the beautiful and stoic man in front of her, he was exactly as the girls at the brothel and the small folk described him: his long silver hair, his purple eye, his fierce aura, he was a mesmerising sight.

As he approached her, he thought that he never saw her before at the brothel, he was trying to remember her small face but he simply couldn’t so he figured that she might be a new addiction there, yet if Sylvi chose her specifically, this means she wasn’t someone new.

He started to undress slowly, taking his time to look at the girl in front of him, her appearance was pleasant, she wasn’t exactly what he was searching, but she still had something magnetic in herself, she had a soft body, with plump breasts and wide hips, her body was different from the one of Madame, yet she still had something comforting that made him at ease right away.

She stood up, taking few steps and stopping in front of him, slightly bowing her head “good evening, my prince, Madame Sylvi apologise that she can’t serve you tonight, but she thought I might be a good enough substitute for you tonight”.

She extended a hand for him, which he took after few moments of silent, noticing how small it was compared to his, slowly walking him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“I’ve never saw you before, when did you start working here?”, he asked, curious to see if his assumption was correct

“Oh, I don’t exactly work here, my prince. My father sold me to Madame when I was a child and she thought I was too young to work here, so she kinda raised me like a daughter, usually I stay upstairs or I serve refreshments, I only work when she specifically asks me to”

So, she wasn’t a whore, not entirely at least, and this awakened something inside of him, he started wondering how many men she slept with, how many she pleased, if she was indeed able to please him as she said.

“Did you sleep with many men before? Are you sure you can serve me properly, child?”

“Not many men, but I’m sure you’ll be very satisfied my prince, and if you don’t trust my words, trust Madame’s judgement”

And so he did, and while he was thrusting inside her soft and warm flesh, he thought how different she was than Sylvi, how tight and wet she was, how her whimpers and moans were shy, how full she was making him feel.

He stayed there after he came, his head placed on her soft breasts, her hands caressing his hair and forehead, their breaths steady, her heartbeat calming, he felt well, satisfied with her service, his thoughts and troubles away for the time she was embracing him.

He told her about his worries, about his dreams, and what shocked him the most, was that she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she was thinking: she spoke calmly, without fear, but still in a respectful manner, not wanting to disrespect him nor his family, it was a rare thing, usually people lie to him or tells him half truth in order to not upset him, Sylvi included.

When he came back evenings after, he hoped to find her again, and he was slightly disappointed to see that Sylvi was waiting for him and not her once again.

Madame realised it too, she could feel a shift in his behaviour, at first thinking it was because of everything it was happening with the war and his family, but when he asked her where she was, her doubts became certainty.

“You don’t want my services anymore, my prince?”, she asked as they laid together after their highs, his head on her lap, curled up like a babe.

“Is not that, I like you and you help me a lot, but it was different with her, she understands me, she is not afraid to tell me the truth and actually gives me advises, she listens carefully and tells me what she thinks, it is a rare thing nowadays, everyone too scared to offend me and have me lose my patience

That’s why I want her to serve me from now on, you were good to me, but I think I found a better match”.

Sylvi wasn’t too pleased about this decision, she enjoyed the evenings with the prince, he treated her with respect, making her feel desired and appreciated, but he was still a prince, and if he didn’t want her services anymore, she had to accept it and move on, at the end of the day, he was still a paying costumer like everybody else, and her last goal was to please him, whether it happened personally or not.

Aemond kept going to the brothel almost every night, gently fucking her and then laying on the bed, his head on her chest, talking about his days, about his dysfunctional family, his plans for the war, and she stayed there, listening to him and caressing his head, and when he wasn’t talking, he was listening to her, talking about the books she was reading or about something she did that day, his lips sucking on one of her nipples lazily, eyes closed, eyepatch discharged somewhere on the bed, hand kneading the soft flesh of her hips.

He loved those moments, he felt at peace, somehow invincible, wondering if he will ever feel like this with another woman, but deep down knowing that no noble woman would be so understanding of him, especially not his betrothed.

It was during one of these nights that his brother, Aegon, had found him, ruining the only good thing he had in his life, Vhagar excluded.

They were there, entangled after their highs, the comfort of her arms making him feel so well, when his drunk brother opened the curtain, revealing himself to him and his mates, not wasting a second to humiliate him.

Aemond immediately got up, sitting there, looking somewhere on the floor, trying to steady his breath, listening to his brother rambling about him “fucking her like a hound”, watching her trying to cover herself for the embarrassment, shielding her body from his brother’s eyes.

He decided to leave, being too angry and humiliated, his brother rambling about searching for Madame to “make a man out of one of the white cloaks” but he found a better amusement after he saw his brother there

“You can have her, brother, one whore is as good as another” he said before taking his leave, the look of disappointment and heartbreaking in her face.

He couldn’t sleep that night, he kept seeing her disappointed face over and over again.

He knew he hurt her, that she had no fault for what happened, his brother was a drunken cunt, and she had to suffer the consequences for his stupid actions.

For days he contemplated about going there and apologise, explaining that he was not expecting for his brother be there, that he hasn’t gone to the brothel in years and he thought it was a safe space for him, away from his brother’s mess, yet he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t go there, relieving the memory of that night again.

In the end he decided to go, he was longing her touch, her softness, her sweetness, ha had to admit to himself (with an enormous amount of strength) that he needed her, so he went there one morning, when he knew anyone would’ve gone there and disturb them.

As he walked the street of silk, he kept thinking about what he wanted to tell her, trying to find the words to explain to her that he was sorry, that he understood if she didn’t want to be with him ever, but that he was still hoping for her forgiveness, since she knew how complicated his relationship with his brother was.

He knocked on the door, Sylvi opening it as he thought, looking at him hostilely

“What are you doing here, my prince”

“You know what I’m doing here, I want to speak with her”

“You hurt her, deeply, I don’t know if she wants to see you”

“Just…just ask her, please? I will leave if she does not want to speak with me”

Madame Sylvi looked at him one last time, before moving towards the rooms upstairs, allowing him to enter the brothel.

She came back a while back, telling him that he can go talk to her, but also to be quick, she didn’t want to give him too much time, she was very hurt by his actions.

He went upstairs, anxious and excited, wanting nothing more than explaining to her, his heart beating fast and hard in his chest at the thought of seeing her sweet face again.

His sweet girl, sited on the bed, a book between her hands, looking beautiful with the sun light, certainly different from the candlelight he was used to

“Good morrow, I know my visit is…unexpected, but I had to come, I had to talk to you”

“Good morrow, talk then, but make it quick, I will have to get ready for work soon, I have clients to take care of”

“Clients? I thought you weren’t fully working at the brothel, I don’t understand”

“After what happened that night, your brother’s guard told everyone how good I was, so a lot of men asked for me and Madame couldn’t refuse them, so now I work full time”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I really am, I didn’t want to treat you in such a way” he walked towards her, sitting slowly on the bed besides her, taking her hands on his and leaving some kisses on them “I swear I wish I said something that night, but my pride took the best of me; my brother was there, mocking me like he did when we were children, I couldn’t stay any longer.

Forgive me, sweet girl, you’re the only one I didn’t wish to hurt that night, yet you’re the one who suffered for my lack of temperament”

She stayed there, their hands still entwined, listening to his pleadings, wondering what was the best thing to do, reminding herself that he hurt her deeply, but also that he loved this man so much, that she couldn’t stay away from him any longer.

She kissed him while he was still talking, needing to feel his lips on hers once again, his hands on her once again, his cock deep inside her, feeling her to the brim with his seed, making her his and his only.

As he thrusts inside her, hips snapping, his hands kneading the soft flesh of her hips, they never felt so good in their life, so at peace, so happy.

They kissed and bit and marks each other, and in Aemond’s mind, the only thought was that she was his and he wasn’t going to let any man take her from him, the only good thing in his life.

She was his sweet girl, only his.

#aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond oneshot #sapphiresandferraris

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viscountessevie · 2 years ago

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And then had come her tears, each drop like a slap, waking him from some murky twilight.

I once again stand by my Rapunzel/Tangled connection cos COME ON!

#The parallels ARE THERE #Immortals After Dark #Pleasure of A Dark Prince #Romance Blogging

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scarlet-star-witch · 5 months ago

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The moon and his sun (Part III)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 10.1 K

Warnings: Whole lotta smut in the beginning, secret relationship, Aegon being an ass

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

The two of them quickly became insatiable.

Aemond soon forgot what his life was like before he had tasted her, before he had heard the sweet sounds of her pleasure, before he had felt the velvet perfection of her walls hugging his cock.

He had thought he had bewitched him as children, but now, he knew he was truly under her spell.

He spent every waking moment finding excuses to find her in any dark corner he could, spending every spare moment reveling in the bliss her open arms provided.

Their afternoons together in the library were now spent with her bent over the table, his punishing hips leaving him to cover her mouth with his hand, his head buried in her shoulder to smother his own noises of ecstasy as they succumbed to their pleasure.

Every feast was cut short as they slithered away from the prying eyes of the crowd, ending up in the secret halls to find solitude, her legs wrapped around his lithe waist as he pressed her against the hard stone wall behind her, her moans flowing freely as he fucked her hard.

He was completely uninhibited, his own groans of pleasure filling the space, her name tumbling from his lips, his head spinning as he thrust inside her with an urgency unknown to him. He never thought he’d be this unhinged, this crazed, but it was what she did to him.

He watched eagerly, as her eyes rolled back, her lips parted with each of her beautiful noises of bliss. He couldn’t believe that he was the one to do this to her. He watched, his eye wide with wonder as he brought her to a leg-shaking peak, his name yelled out into the empty halls, like she couldn't get enough.

He couldn't believe he was lucky enough to be with her like this, to hold her and touch her until she cried in the most beautiful way possible.

He never wanted to stop, he never wanted his time with her to end.

He was eager to take whatever time with her he could.

His hours of training were cut short when he spotted her on the balcony, the sight of her playful smirk all he needed to be swayed, practically tossing his sword down as he gave Ser Criston a flimsy excuse before leaving abruptly.

She’d be waiting for him in his chambers, the laces of her corset already undone. It would take little effort to rip the rest away.

He learned to savor her, despite the fire that raged through him every time he touched her soft skin, he learned he loved taking his time with her. He loved to bury his face between her thighs, tasting her sweet nectar, feeling her writhe under him, her lovely cries echoing through his room as he brought her to climax over and over again.

He loved the way her fingers tangled and pulled at his hair, he loved watching her back arch off his sheets, how her breasts heaved with each of her panting breaths and whining cries.

But most of all, he loved when she moaned his name.

Whether it was with his fingers, his tongue, or his hard cock that pounded into her relentlessly, he would do whatever it took to make her scream his name.

But his love was an explorer, it was in her nature.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when she flipped the script on him.

He had just brought her to a third, leg-quivering peak with his tongue, when her moans turned to laughs, the mischief twinkling in her eyes, stirring his desire even further, his cock so hard he was practically throbbing under her gaze.

She flipped him to his back as if he weighed nothing. He had watched, entranced by the goddess in his bed as she climbed atop him. He let out a loud, keening cry as she sank down on him.

She wasted no time, not one to deny her darling Aemond his pleasure, as she grinded against him rhythmically, her head falling back to her shoulders, her panting breaths growing louder as she rode him with fervor.

Though it was no match for the noises coming from her lover below her.

She had never taken control like this and it was driving him insane. His hands clutched to her hips desperately, his eye glassy as he watched her divine body atop him, her hips moving with a fierceness that left him breathless.

Each slam of her hips against his choked a cry out of him, sounding more desperate with each brutal thrust of her punishing yet perfect hips.

He had never experienced anything like it before.

It was easy to lose control with her. Only a few moments later, his body stiffened, his head thrown back onto the pillow below him, a loud cry of ecstasy escaping him as his back arched, his body writhing beneath her.

She laughed in delight, pride coursing through her at the pleasure she was able to pull from a dragon, a god amongst men.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- fuck.” He panted, throwing his arm over his eyes as he fought to catch his breath, his pulse pounding in his ears, stars bursting behind his closed eye.

She giggled and leaned down, beginning to plant kisses across his heaving chest.

“We’re doing that again.” She crooned, making him groan, both in delight and agony.

“I’ll need a minute before I can feel my legs.” He laughed.

Neither one of them could fathom the bliss they found together.

They couldn’t get enough.

A loud rumble of thunder woke her one morning, a soft moan sounding as she stretched, a smile coming to her lips as she felt a blissful ache between her legs. Her face twisted with sleepy confusion as her foot nudged against something solid under her sheets and she soon became aware of the arm that lay over her waist.

She looked over her shoulder, both delight and fear coming to her in an instant.

While she was beyond happy to wake up beside her love, to have been wrapped in his arms the entire night, they were playing a dangerous game and they couldn’t give the maids any reason to spread gossip.

“Aemond.” She groaned tiredly, pushing at his shoulder to wake him.

He let out a low noise of discontent as he was woken from his sleep. His arm tightened around her and he nuzzled in closer to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, placing sweet kisses that made her insides flutter.

“You weren’t supposed to stay the night.”

He would hold her as she fell into her slumber, but was always cautious enough to leave while it was still dark, ending up in his own bed before the sun rose and the members of the Keep woke.

“I couldn’t help it.” He spoke, his voice raspy with sleep, stirring desire within her. “You looked so beautiful while you slept, I couldn’t bear to leave your side.”

She rolled her eyes as a soft laugh escaped her.

“You’re still such a charmer.”

“Only for you, my love.” He crooned and titled her chin towards him so he could kiss her properly.

They both quickly lost themselves to their desires. No care was given to the fact that others would be awakening, that an entire world existed outside the bed, an outside world that could destroy them.

None of it seemed to matter to them.

Aemond had kissed her until they were breathless then turned her onto her stomach and hauled her to her hands and knees. Their shared moans as he sank into her were loud, much louder than he would’ve been comfortable with this time of day if had any sense left to give.

His hips moved with precision, thrusting his cock inside her with growing need, as if it wasn’t enough, as if he needed to be closer to her still. Even inside her, it wasn’t enough.

He gripped her hips tightly, his eyes shut tightly as the pleasure overtook him. His panting breaths grew louder, his desire growing with each passing second, every one of her whining moans and pleas lighting his body with a fire that was becoming all too familiar with her.

He growled as she bounced her hips back onto him, his blunt nails scratching at her skin, his jaw falling slack with a loud moan, their morning love making quickly turning into something much more animalistic and desperate than either had intended.

It was so unlike what their usual early morning rendezvous were. There were no quiet, shared kisses or gentle wandering hands that carressed and worshiped every inch of each other.

“Aemond!” She cried out, her head dropping between her arms, her voice growing raspy as her cries became louder, only encouraging his flaming lust.

He grunted and quickened his pace, the headboard beginning to slam against the wall behind the bed, his moans becoming louder, suddenly thankful for the raging storm outside that provided cover for their noise.

“That’s it, love, just like that.” He growled, his resolve slipping from him faster than he could recognize.

Her moans became louder, sending goosebumps across his skin.

“Come for me, my love.”

His growled words were all she needed to bring her close to her end. With only a few swipes of his fingers against his clit, his expert hands knowing exactly how to play her, like a musician with their treasured instrument, she was helpless against his touch.

She shuddered under him, a cry of his name ripped from her throat as he brought her to her peak. Her sweet sounding whines echoed throughout the room.

Aemond grit his teeth, the tightening around his cock forcing him to lose all sense of control. He pounded into her relentlessly, cursing and grunting as he fucked her like an animal, as if she wasn’t the most precious thing to him.

A string of Valyrian left him, cursing the power her body held over his own and praying to never lose her devotion all at once. A loud shout left him as he came, his body tingling with ecstasy as he practically collapsed against her, his limbs left feeling weak, his entire body spent, his mind spinning.

“Fuck.” He whispered breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “You are perfection, issa prūmia.”

They were both trembling and aching, reeling with bliss, pleasure ringing in their ears.

“You should go before my maids come.” She said, her voice still breathless and raspy from the cries he had pulled from her.

“One more minute.” He mumbled, moving with a groan to lay beside her and quickly gathering her into his arms.

He kissed the top of her head, letting his eye fall closed, taking in the peaceful final moments he would get with her until the cover of night.

They both found it difficult to hide what was between them. The smiles they shared as they passed each other would be subject to scrutiny now that they were no longer children. The time they spent together, while not unusual, was looked at with a cautious lens, the Lords and Ladies of the court whispering about their closeness.

It was hell to pretend they were still nothing more than childhood friends.

The days spent in the garden, surrounded by curious eyes looking for gossip were torture for them both. Aemond longed to reach out to her, to brush the hair from her face the wind would carry. He longed to take her hand in his, he longed to sit closer, to feel her body against his. He longed to kiss her after each sweet nothing she cheekily dared to whisper in the broad daylight.

But they would never risk what they had.

Though there was nothing they could do about the rumors that spread about the way they looked at each other.

There was nothing they could do about the love that lingered in their gazes towards each other.

Whispers of an impending betrothal were all the court could talk about. Even with the fierce scowls Aemond sent to the groups of whispering Ladies, it did little to stop the incessant gossiping.

It soon reached the ears of the Master of Coin. The Lord of Ixtal hadn’t exactly been shocked when he heard the rumors, he was only confused as to why his own daughter hadn’t disclosed anything to him.

He knew about her friendship with Aemond, but she had never told him of any deeper feelings. He sought her out one night after dinner with the King.

He was making his way to his daughter’s chambers when he caught sight of her roaming the halls just a few turns from her room.

“Darling?” He called out to her, causing her to stop in her tracks, a brief look of horrified shock crossing her features before she quickly schooled her expression. “Where are you headed to at this hour?”

She panicked internally for a brief moment, as if her father could know with one mere look at her that she was headed to find her secret lover to do things their Septa’s from years past would have lashed them for.

“I was going to say goodnight to Helaena’s twins. I promised I would read them a bedtime story.” The lie fell from her tongue too easily, her stomach twisting with nerves as her father eyed her carefully, as if catching onto her lie.

He nodded slowly and she had to force herself not to breathe out dramatically in relief that her cover story had been solid enough.

“Why don’t we break our fast together tomorrow? I feel as though I’ve scarcely seen you as of late.”

She nodded eagerly, desperate to be out from under his gaze, no matter how innocent it was. The guilt she felt along with the enormous secret she harbored was enough to drive her to insanity.

“I’ll see tomorrow, Darling.”

“Goodnight.” She spoke swiftly, pressing a quick kiss to her father’s cheek and sidestepping him, continuing on her path down the hall, taking a sharp left towards Helaena’s chambers instead of the right turn that would’ve taken her to the library where Aemond was waiting for her.

She entered the Princess’ chambers, giving her friend a warm smile.

“Hello.” Helaena greeted her happily. “I wasn’t expecting you here tonight.”

She shrugged, attempting to not let her anxieties show.

“I haven’t seen you much today. I thought I should stop in to say goodnight.” She took a seat next to her friend, smiling softly at the children at her feet playing with their toys.

“Was Aemond not available?”

She blanched, Helaena’s blunt words striking fear within her like an arrow. Her wide eyed stare met her friend’s unwaveringly calm smile.

“We- Aemond and I-”

“You make him happy.” Helaena spoke warmly, her attention moving back to the embroidery in her hands, as if she hadn’t just shaken her friend to her core. “I’m glad he found you before it was too late.”

She gaped at the Princess. It wasn’t unusual for Helaena to speak things that made little sense to others or things so mysterious it left a chill down your spine, but this was something else entirely.

She cleared her throat and turned her attention to the twins, asking if they would like to hear a bedtime story. She could at least follow through with her lie to her father. She spent the next twenty minutes corralling the quiet children to their beds, her heart bursting with love as they watched her eagerly, hanging onto her every word as she told them tales of her home, of the beautiful animals that lived in the jungles of Ixtal.

She pictured herself, sometime in the future, telling tales to her own children who had heads of silver hair just as their father did. The thought made her heart leap excitedly.

Once the children were tucked into bed, fully satisfied with her many stories, she felt Helaena’s hand on her shoulder, a touched twinkle in her eyes.

“He’ll be waiting for you.”

The Princess’ whispered words said much more than anyone else could comprehend. Her insinuated approval, that she knew just how much her brother meant to her, had a weight leaving her shoulders she didn’t even know had been holding her down.

No matter what Helaena knew of what she had with Aemond, she approved and that was all that mattered.

With a parting kiss to Helaena’s cheek, she left her chambers, heading back to her own, wondering what she’d tell Aemond of his sister’s strange words.

She stepped into her chambers, her heart jumping at the sight of a figure by her window. She placed a hand over her chest, whispering a quiet curse as she quickly recognized the silver hair that gleamed in the moonlight.

“Gods, don’t do that. You scared me.” She spoke quietly, looking behind her to ensure the door was closed behind her.

Aemond was stepping towards her in an instant, his face hardened slightly.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

She let out a long breath, holding onto his arms that wound around her waist.

“I’m fine.”

“You didn’t show, I thought…” He trailed off, his eye alight with uncertainty that made her chest ache.

She reached out, her hand resting at his cheek, the affectionate gesture making his tense body relax. She didn’t understand how after so many years of friendship and weeks of making love he still could have doubts for what her heart longed for.

“I ran into my father.” She explained to him. “I thought he might be suspicious, so I went to Helaena’s room. I didn’t want him to follow me straight to you. God’s if he had caught us-” She stopped abruptly, shivering at the thought.

Aemond blew out a breath, a guise of laughter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting or to make you worry.”

He just shook his head, looking back at her with reverence, as if he could finally be at ease now he was gazing upon her.

His arms tightened around her, his closeness making her smile, though it was strained. She thought of her father, the awkwardness their interaction held, something that had never existed with him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aemond asked, sensing the turmoil within her, looking at her with concern.

“I hate lying to him.”

Aemond sighed, he didn’t exactly have the same reservations about lying to his family like she had, he certainly didn’t have the love and affection for his father that she had with her own, but he saw how it ate away at her.

“I know, my love.”

They both knew they couldn’t risk what they had getting ripped away from them. On a good day, the only thing the King seemed to remember was his first daughter. They couldn’t take a request to him, not while Otto pulled the strings.

Aemond gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly as they both longed for a day where they didn’t have to hide.

In an effort to keep up appearances, they decided to put some distance between them, at least while in public. At the feast for the Queen’s nameday, she didn’t sit next to him or his family, she didn’t dance with him, though that was not a common event now that they were no longer children.

Aemond sat at the head table, a permanent scowl etched on his face.

He watched with barely contained resentment the crowd that had gathered around her and her father. The Lord of Ixtal was too charismatic for his own good. Any Lord and their son that greeted the revered Master of coin soon turned their attention to his beloved daughter, offering well wishes and not so subtle inquiries into her eligibility for marriage.

Aemond couldn’t stand it.

He was powerless to do anything but watch. He noticed the way she would shift uncomfortably in her seat under the compliments bestowed upon her. He wanted nothing more than to march straight to her, take her hand and whisk her away from it all.

Proprietary be damned, he couldn’t take it anymore.

His leg bounced beneath the table, every inch of him portraying how much he hated every part of the celebration. He took a long swig of his wine, wincing slightly at the taste. He thanked the Gods every day that he never achieved his brother’s proclivities for the drink, but he didn’t think he could endure the rest of the night without something to dull his senses.

His eyes fell to her table once more and suddenly sat up straighter when his gaze locked onto hers. The small smile she sent him, the noticeable annoyance on her face that conveyed she hated this just as much as he did, made his lips twitch upwards.

His entire demeanor changed. With just one look at her, the scowl on his face eased, no longer the look of pure dread and contempt.

Though it did not last long.

He surveyed the crowd of dancing couples, an inkling of shame creeping upon him as he thought of how long it had been since he had danced with his love. It had been years, surely. He had outgrown the childish act, but he couldn’t help but long for those nights of innocent twirling, remembering how he had never laughed as hard as when they were hand in hand, spinning around the room like the two care-free children they had been.

The good feeling in his heart crumbled instantly as he noticed her familiar head of hair among the crowd. A strange, clenching feeling unfurled in his stomach as he leaned forward, internally cursing the other couples that were in his line of sight.

As the couples twirled in their practiced steps, she was revealed, hand in hand with Jasper Wylde’s son, locked in an embrace as they danced.

Something within Aemond sparked, a certain kind of rage he hadn’t felt in a long time. His fists clenched, his jaw tightening as his teeth grinded, growing angrier with each second he watched her dance with that fool.

It didn’t matter that she had no beaming smile to give, that there was no affection within her eyes, that she moved stiffly and mechanically. Aemond didn’t seem to notice any of it, all he could comprehend was that his love was in another man’s arms, dancing with him the way he refused to, the way he couldn’t under the prying eyes of the court.

It was the moment the Wylde son leaned in, whispering something in her ear, his lips so close to hers, that he knew he had reached his limit. He had to leave before he made an enemy of the Master of Law by murdering his son.

He stood from his chair and made his way out of the room with a determination that left many to give the feared Prince a wide berth. It wasn’t uncommon to see the one-eyed Prince stomp away in a fury, but it still struck fear into the hearts of those who were in his path.

He made his way into his chambers, his body thrumming with an energy so volatile, so uncomfortable, he contemplated dragging Ser Criston out to the training yard so he could take a few whacks at him to unleash his anger.

He breathed deeply, his hands clenching onto the back of a chair, his head hanging as the blood in his veins sung with the desire to enact violence, to prove to everyone that they couldn’t take what was his, that they shouldn’t dare to try to take his love away from him.

The sound of his door opening had him flinching, quickly turning on his heel, ready to strike at anyone who would be daft enough to disturb him. His shoulders slumped at the sight of her, the knowing look on her face forcing him to release a long breath, his fury brimming to a petty anger he wouldn’t be quick to part ways with.

“What are you doing here?”

She wanted to roll her eyes at his tone. “I saw you storm out.”

“I’m surprised you noticed. You looked rather busy with that Lord leeching off you.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised her night would turn to this. She knew what she was in for the second the man asked her for a dance.

“He asked me to dance in front of his father and mine. I couldn’t very well say no.”

“No?”

“Aemond.” She admonished impatiently. “The entire reason we stayed apart tonight was to quiet the rumors. You know what would happen if I refused to dance with him, what everyone would say.”

“I think you’re giving the court too much credit.”

The words, one she had said to him all those weeks ago, when he was the one worried about appearances, now thrown back at her made her want to grab his arms and shake him until that complicated brain of his rattled around enough to find some sense.

She breathed deeply, forcing herself to stay calm because it was clear the man before her would not be exercising the same caution.

Stepping towards him, she took her hands in his, speaking his name softly when he refused to look at her.

“After all this time, do you truly still not see it?”

His eyes drifted to hers slowly, the gesture almost meek, so unlike the fierce dragon rider she knew him to be. She reached out, taking his face in her hands and leaned forward, placing a kiss to the patch that covered his sapphire eye.

The gesture disarmed him completely, the anger pulled out of him as swiftly as a sword exits the body in a fateful final move.

He let out a shuddering breath, his hands finding their home on her waist. He looked at her, his gaze now sheepish, embarrassed that he had directed his anger towards her, the only one who never deserved it.

“You are the only man I want.” She assured him. “No matter who I dance with, no matter who engages me with petty conversations, they will never be the one who has my heart. I only think of you.”

“There are others you’ve danced with?”

The smirk on his face, the assurance the comment was made without anger and purely to poke at her in a way only he could, made her laugh, the sound making him smile. She pushed at his chest.

“You are insufferable.”

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, keeping her pressed against him as she weakly struggled against his embrace, her laughter constant. Her giggles soon turned to shrieks of delight as he began to press playful kisses down the length of her neck.

He felt healed by the sound, with the feel of her in his arms, right where she should be. She was the only one he could be this way with, she was the only who accepted him as he was.

He leaned into her, ceasing his teasing kisses, the look in his eye more serious as he gazed at her lovingly.

“I don’t think there are enough words in any language to tell you how much I love you.” He told her.

“I know the feeling.”

The admiration, the pure love in her eyes melted him from the inside out. He couldn’t waste another second and crashed his lips to hers, content to never leave the haven that was her kiss for the rest of the night.

He was still amazed by her ability to calm him, to soothe every negative feeling within him, even after all these years.

His time spent with her was his only reprieve from the things in his life he despised.

He had come to her chambers one afternoon, particularly eager, his emotions running high after a gathering with his family. She wasn’t sure if it had been his mother’s incessant ramblings of Rhaenyra’s negligence, his grandsire’s continued lectures about his duty and his need to marry soon, his father’s dismissiveness, or if it were Aegon’s general presence that put him in such a mood, she didn’t have time to ask before he was ravishing her thoroughly.

It was only until their sweat-slicked bodies cooled, their limbs tangled together beneath her disarrayed sheets, her head rested on his chest as his hand ran gently through her hair, did she finally see him relaxed once more.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” She asked suddenly, prompting Aemond to chuckle.

“Was my performance not satisfactory, love? You wish to exile me?”

She laughed and looked up at him pointedly.

“I think it was quite obvious what I thought of your performance.”

The scratches down his back would certainly be proof of her enjoyment.

“I meant leaving King’s Landing, exploring a new part of the world.”

Aemond remained quiet for a moment, contemplating her words. He didn’t know how to respond so he settled for a half-hearted shrug.

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem restrained here.” She answered quietly, worrying she was tiptoeing into dangerous territory. She didn’t want to push him but it killed her to see his light dim in the presence of his family.

Whenever they would pass each other in the halls of the Keep they had loving smiles to share, delighted by the secret they kept from the rest of the them, but whenever she crossed his path while he was with him mother or his grandsire, he didn’t spare her a look, his face drawn tightly with a coldness that, while characteristic around others, was so unfamiliar to her.

Aemond didn’t like to talk about his family, he seemed to always steer the conversation in a different direction whenever she probed and tensed whenever they were brought up, changing the easy nature between them into something more complicated.

He stayed quiet, taking in her words contemplatively, his mind swirling with waves of thoughts he couldn’t quite make sense of.

His feelings for his family were complicated. He was devoted to them, he would protect them when it came down to it, but he couldn’t exactly say he was happy with them or felt very loved by them.

“We should live in Ixtal.”

She looked up at him curiously, not having expected those words. He looked down at her, a small smile growing, his arm around her tightening.

“Once we’re married, we’ll abandon the delirious politics here and we’ll move to Ixtal where we’ll grow old and raise our children.”

She smiled, the fantasy he had created sounding more like a dream than any sort of reality they could manage for themselves.

She couldn’t think that far ahead, not when they couldn’t even hold hands in front of others.

“That sounds lovely.” She mused quietly, holding tightly to his words, praying they would one day come true.

“Do not be mad.”

Her first words in greeting immediately had him on edge, the soft expression that had appeared at the sight of her twisting into one of derision in a swift moment. The moment she stepped into the library, a place that had now become an excuse for him to take her between the shelves, he perked up, but the hesitancy on her face had him pausing, suddenly fearing the worst.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I have something to tell you and you have to promise me you will not resort to bloodshed.”

His look of confusion only grew, his nerves rising as he stood from his seat, walking towards her cautiously.

“Bloodshed?” He questioned, his voice becoming darker at the mere notion of a threat against her. “Has someone done something to you?”

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his blatant protectiveness and reached out, taking his hand in hers in an effort to calm him.

“You have a tendency to rage before an explanation can be given so you must promise me you won’t draw your sword before I’ve finished my story.”

“My love, you know I can make no promises.”

With a heavy sigh, her hand remaining in his, her fingers gently tracing over his knuckles, as if her soothing touch could sate him while she gave him the news that would undoubtedly spring him into a furious temper.

“Elric Wylde has requested my presence in the gardens. My father told me he wishes to start a courtship.”

The scoff that left his lips made her wince. She had never before heard such derision from a simple sound.

“You are jesting, aren’t you?”

“Aemond-”

“I know there is no possible way you would agree to court someone else.” He continued, his voice laced with jealous disdain.

“Aemond-” She tried again but he continued to rant, pulling his hand from hers, his face now dark with dangerous intent.

“Where is the Wylde Lord? I’ll be sure to set him straight and tear his limbs from his body before he has the chance to put his hands on you again.”

“Stop.” She spoke sternly, grabbing onto his arm before he could leave her side and murder the poor boy who naively thinks he has a chance with her. “I am not going to let him court me.”

“No, you’ll just string him along so he thinks he had a chance.”

“I will meet with him once and then tell my father I don’t wish to continue, putting the matter to rest for good.”

“Tell your father now that you don’t wish to court him.”

“He’ll get suspicious if I keep refusing to meet with eligible Lords. He’ll begin to think I want to become a Septa if I continue to avoid any notion of marriage.”

Aemond’s grave expression didn’t waver. His eyes moved back to the door, as if conjuring ways he could butcher the clueless Wylde son.

“Aemond…” She warned, the look on his face igniting her worry. She knew he would be thinking of anything but helpful suggestions.

“I’ll tell the prick myself. He’ll be sure to understand then.”

She gripped onto his arm tighter, stopping him from taking another step.

“Don’t be daft.” She scolded. “You know the gossip that would ensue if you got involved.”

“You are not meeting with him.” Aemond said sternly to which she just rolled her eyes.

“It will only be for a few minutes. I’ll immediately go to my father to refuse any further advances and we’ll be done with it.”

“Until the next one comes along to vie for your hand.”

“We’ll deal with it when it comes to that, if you haven’t already murdered the entire pool of eligible bachelors.”

Aemond’s brow perked up at the notion. It wasn’t a bad suggestion. She playfully smacked his chest.

“Stop that.”

His jaw clenched, his anger simmering within him. The thought of her arm in arm with another man, the poor fool that would be drooling over her, thinking he had a chance, made him furious.

“When are you meeting with this imbecile?”

She gave him a pointed look at his insult. “In twenty minutes.”

Aemond smirked, the look in his eye darkening, though in a much different way than it had before. The lust that overtook his gaze made her shiver.

“He can wait.”

With that, he crashed his lips to hers and dragged her to the back of the library, their hidden alcove they had desecrated many a time before.

No less than forty minutes later, after Aemond had thoroughly fucked her like an animal and her desperate attempts to straighten her appearance, did she finally meet Lord Elric Wylde in the gardens.

She hoped she wasn’t walking funny as a result of Aemond’s brutal thrusts that had rendered her a moaning, mindless fool.

“My Lady.” He greeted her politely, offering his arm to her, which she accepted, no matter how wrong it felt.

As they began to walk, she steadily ignored the feeling of her lover’s seed that dripped down her thigh.

She forced her mind to move on from the memory of his debauched touches and greedy lips that traveled across every inch of her body and looked to the man beside her, suddenly realizing he was looking at her questioningly.

Her eyes widened as she realized she hadn’t been listening to a word he had said.

“What?”

He laughed slightly. “I asked how your day was.”

“Oh.” She giggled, hoping he couldn’t tell how embarrassed she was. “It’s been fine.”

“I admit, my day is much brighter now that I am in your company.”

She smiled stiffly. She couldn’t find it in herself to force anything more genuine.

They continued to walk throughout the gardens and she was thankfully able to remain half-listening as the eager Lord mostly spoke about himself and didn’t bother to ask her any further questions.

She settled for mindless hums in agreement to whatever he had been spouting on about.

As they turned the corner, she suddenly stopped in her tracks as she met Aemond’s cool eye from across the path.

He smirked at her, the sight causing a blooming heat to burn inside her. She was suddenly more aware of the seed that dripped down her leg.

By the look in his eye and the devilish smirk across his lips it was obvious he was thinking about the same thing.

“Is everything ok?”

She cleared her throat and forced herself to keep walking.

“Yes, everything's fine.” She spoke slightly tersely, completely thrown off by Aemond’s presence. They continued on their way and she silently prayed her lover’s fierce jealousy wouldn’t rear its ugly head.

“My Lord.”

She winced, silently cursing the man she loved and his petty nature.

“Prince Aemond.” Elric greeted, his tone sounding slightly cautious as he came face to face with the feared Prince.

“I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but I heard your father had something urgent to discuss with you.”

“My father?” Elric questioned.

“Yes, he needs to see you in the council room.”

The young Lord looked confused, only inciting Aemond’s frustration further.

“Quickly, my Lord. You mustn't keep your father waiting.” He added forcefully.

The Lord swallowed, his face blanching at the abrupt tone and looked to the Lady beside him, too flustered to notice the scowl she was sending the Prince.

“Of course.” He bowed to both of them respectfully and grabbed her hand, thankfully not noticing how Aemond twitched, having to stop himself from lunging forward and ripping his hand from her.

“I will find you again, my Lady, so we can continue.”

“Of course.” She said stiffly, her smile terse.

As the Lord scurried away, she moved her gaze to Aemond, the smug smirk on his face made her want to rage yet laugh all at once.

“You have some nerve.” She muttered and turned on her heel, though Aemond was quick to follow, falling into step beside her. “You said you would leave it be.”

“I agreed to let you meet with him, I made no such promise about what I would do after.”

“Aemond, people will talk about us and your attempts at derailing a courtship.”

“Let them talk. I’ll gladly have them answer to Vhagar.”

She rolled her eyes and subtly elbowed him in his side, delighting in the breathless wheeze that left his lips.

He reached out, linking his arm through hers before she could leave his side.

“I had to rescue you from such boredom, my love.” He spoke softly.

She looked over at him plainly, knowing he would have found any excuse to ruin her time with any man that dared to think they had a chance with her.

“And what will you do when the poor boy realizes his father did not summon him?”

“If he dares to call me a liar I’ll meet him with my sword.”

She shook her head, though she shouldn’t have been in much disbelief. This was Aemond, he was nothing if not possessive of what he cherished.

Aemond smirked and leaned in closer so his lips brushed against her ear.

“Do you really think I would let another man touch what is mine?” He practically growled. “Tell me, do you think he could tell from your raspy voice that I just had you screaming for my cock?”

She felt a shiver race down her spine, her thighs clenching together at the memory of his devastating touch on her. She pulled her arm from his and turned to face him, delighting in the way his eye darkened with anticipation.

She smirked and took a step backwards, her gaze remaining on him as if keeping him locked into her trance as she walked away.

“Where are you going?” He asked breathlessly.

“To tell my father I don’t wish to court Elric Wylde.”

Aemond grinned triumphantly, his blood thrumming in his veins with blinding desire.

“And then?”

“I think I’ll head back to the library. There’s a particular book I'd like to read again.” She crooned, the sultry smile on her lips stirring his lust, quickly feeling himself hardening at the insinuation of another round with her before the day was done.

“I will see you there.” Aemond called back and tried with all his might not to sprint to the library to wait for her.

Aegon tripped over his own right foot, forcing himself to lean on the stone wall beside him as he drunkenly made his way through the hidden tunnels, hoping he was on the right path to Aemond’s room.

He was in the mood for depravity and he wanted to drag his brother down with him. He just hoped he wasn’t with that Island bitch who was always attached at his hip. She ruined their last visit to the Silk Street.

He smirked to himself triumphantly as he reached the hidden door to Aemond’s chambers. He dropped his wineskin to the ground and pushed it open slowly to avoid making much noise to alert his brother.

He wanted to scare the little twat.

He stepped inside, but froze instantly at the sound of a breathless moan.

Confusion was the first thing he became aware of, but it soon turned to sheer delight as he recognized the sounds of panting and moaning. The sounds were unmistakable.

“Fuck, don’t stop.”

Aegon’s eyes widened at the sound of the breathless voice. He didn’t think his brother had it in him.

He slinked into the room with slow, quiet steps. His eyes widened when he peered around the corner, his jaw falling slack.

He knew that figure anywhere.

He knew his brother was in love with the Ixtal girl, he just didn’t think he’d have the balls to do anything about it. But he was dead wrong. He bit his lip as he watched the beauty atop his brother, mesmerized by the movement of her hips.

He watched, enthralled, feeling his cock twitch to life, as her head fell back, the pleasure on her face stirring something inside him. His eyes fell to her perky breasts that bounced tantalizingly with every one of her movements, forcing himself to bite his lip to stifle his own groan of pleasure.

“Aemond.” She moaned, making Aegon cringe at the reminder of the beauty in front of him was currently fucking his brother and not him.

He watched with jealousy as his brother’s hands roamed that perfect body, from her thighs up to her breasts. The sounds of his brother’s groans and pants of pleasure brought anger to bubble to the surface. Aegon’s eyes fell to his brother and he was startled to see the sparkling sapphire gem in place of his eye.

He had never seen his brother without his eye patch on.

The interest in his brother’s eye left swiftly as Aemond tightened his grip on the woman’s hips and thrust upwards, the loud moan she let out bringing him back to the present enticing sight.

Gods, she sounded like a whore from the Silk Street. He wished he could grab her and take her for his own. His brother didn’t deserve that beauty.

He watched the woman plant her hands on Aemond’s chest, her hips bouncing quicker, making him let out a loud, blissful moan. Her nails dug into his skin and it was the moment Aemond placed his hand atop hers, intertwining their fingers and leaning up to kiss her passionately that took Aegon out of the moment, the romantic gesture turning his delight into disgust.

He audibly scoffed, the noise reaching the couple. The woman looked over her shoulder, her eyes widening in horror as she yelped in fright. The second Aemond noticed his brother he swiftly turned them over, quickly covering her bare body with the sheets of his bed. He quickly stood from the bed, pulling his breeches up hastily, his deadly scowl locked onto his drunken wastrel of a brother.

“I had my suspicions brother, but now I know, you are truly pathetic.” Aegon slurred.

“What are you doing here?” Aemond seethed, his voice low with deadly intention.

“Enjoying the show.” He smiled viciously. His eyes moved past Aemond to the girl on the bed, but Aemond moved, blocking his line of sight from her.

“Don’t look at her.”

Aegon scoffed. “It’s too late. I already saw every inch of that whor-”

Aegon’s sentence abruptly ended as a gasping breath escaped him as his back hit the wall behind him, Aemond’s arm against his throat.

“Aemond!” She called out worriedly, wrapping the sheet around her trembling body as she stood from the bed.

He looked over his shoulder at her, the fury in his eye dimming as he noticed how scared she looked.

He turned back to his brother, his face growing redder the longer he pressed against his throat.

“You will never enter my chambers again. You will never speak of this and you will never look at her that way again.” He warned, his voice low, his intention clear.

He lifted his arm, leaving Aegon to stumble to the ground, gasping coughs escaping him as he took in grateful gulps of air. His heaving breaths soon turned to laughs, the drunken idiot finding the situation hilarious.

He unsteadily got to his feet, his eyes moving past his brother to land on the girl again, causing Aemond’s eye to darken, rage bubbling within him.

“You want my silence? You think it comes for free?”

“What do you want?” Aemond seethed through gritted teeth.

Aegon smirked, the sight making Aemond’s blood boil. He dreaded where this was going. His hand twitched, itching to wipe the smug look off his brother’s face.

“I won’t tell our precious mother what you’ve been doing, I won’t tell the court how you’ve sullied this poor girl and ruin her reputation… if I can have a turn with her.”

Her face fell, the hungry look Aegon sent her making her want to crawl out of her skin.

Aemond acted quickly, delivering a swift punch to his brother’s face. Aegon cursed and groaned, losing his footing, but Aemond was quick and wasn’t about to let him off the hook just yet. He grabbed a fistful of Aegon’s greasy hair and yanked him upwards, throwing him against the wall yet again.

“Love, grab my dagger.”

Aemond looked over his shoulder at the girl who was practically trembling in place, her hands clutched onto the sheet, her eyes watering. She gulped and reached for the dagger at his bedside, stepping forward on shaking legs to hand it over.

Aemond smirked darkly, feeling powerful as Aegon’s eyes widened in fear as he pressed the blade against his cheek.

“If you ever look at her in a way that is anything but polite, if you speak any vile comments in her direction, I’ll know and I won’t be giving you a second chance.”

“Brother-” Aegon choked out, a strangled gasp escaping as Aemond pressed harder against his throat, his dagger making a small cut on his cheek.

“You speak one word about her and I will take your tongue. I will cut off each of your limbs and feed them to Vhagar. You will be nothing but ash by the time I’m done with you.” Aemond spoke darkly, his voice steady and calm, fully honest in his threats.

After a few long, tense seconds, Aegon subtly nodded and Aemond lifted his hand, taking the dagger away from his face, leaving a small, almost imperceptible cut on his cheek, leaving nothing but a drop of blood that beaded to the surface.

“Get out.”

Aegon said nothing as he made his leave, not even sparing a glance back at her.

She let out a heavy exhale, her shaking legs almost giving out beneath her as she slowly sat at the edge of the bed, her hands still clutching fistfulls of the sheet wrapped around her.

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked, startling her slightly when she realized he was kneeled in front of her, his hands cradling her face gently, looking at her worriedly.

“He’s going to tell.” She spoke monotonously, her anxious mind conjuring a thousand scenarios of how the next morning will turn out, all ending with her humiliated, flooded with insults and forced to leave the Capitol as nothing more than a ruined whore.

“He won’t.”

“But if he-”

“He won’t do anything.” Aemond assured her, though he couldn’t deny how his own heart raced with equal parts adrenaline and fear of what Aegon could possibly do to ruin his life.

He eyed her carefully, moving to sit next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her as he hauled her into his lap. He kissed the delicate slope of her neck softly, moving upwards until he captured her lips with his in a kiss so sweet she would have continued where they had left off if she wasn’t so shaken.

“I will make it right.”

“How?”

He smiled slightly, the light in his eye so different to the fury she had seen just a minute ago.

“By doing what I should have done a long time ago.” He answered softly, his eye searing into hers with nothing but devotion.

Her heart that had finally slowed began to race yet again, this time for a much different reason. The resolution on Aemond’s face brought tears to her eyes. His love for her had always been clear, but now, as she spiraled and he remained calm, her everlasting rock, her guidance back to herself, solidified everything she already knew.

“I cannot go another day with you as my secret.”

“Aemond-”

“You will be my wife.” He spoke seriously. “Even if my grandfather disagrees, we will be married. We’ll leave for Ixtal tomorrow if we have to. I care little for what it would take. All I know is that I will take no wife that is not you.”

Her lips curled upwards, her insides twisting delightfully. She leaned into him, letting her forehead rest against his.

“I love you.” She said, her voice no more than a whisper.

Aemond’s hands tightened around her waist, wishing nothing existed outside of his room, outside of this moment.

“I love you.” He whispered, his lips brushing against hers softly. “Issa prūmia.”

My heart.

His name for her that was only whispered in the safety of his chambers, away from listening ears, could soon be said for all to hear.

“I won’t ever let him hurt you.” He promised her, the dark edge of his voice returning at the mention of his debauched brother.

She wound her arms around him and kissed him firmly, her trust completely his. She worried what Aegon could do to them, to her, having some leverage over them. She worried what Aemond’s mother and grandsire would think of their betrothal, if they would allow it.

She worried about what their future would look like in a mere matter of hours. But she could do nothing about it, so she remained in his arms, letting him hold her as he continuously assured her, promised her nothing but a life of happiness between his sweet kisses.

By the next morning, neither one of them having slept a wink, Aemond dressed and before he left he cradled her face in his hands, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll take care of this, I promise you.”

“What if-”

“Nothing is going to take you away from me. I swear it, my love.” He interrupted her tearful fears. He kissed her once more before leaving his chambers.

The gentle and caring expression on his face fell the moment the door closed behind him. His body became rigid, his face dark with determination as he walked purposefully to his mother’s chambers.

He recited the speech in his head yet again, he’d done nothing else all night, trying to find a way to convince his mother of a betrothal.

Suddenly, as he came to his mother’s door, all words were gone from his head, leaving him standing tensely, his face pale and fear seeping through his veins.

He prayed he had gotten to her before Aegon.

With a deep breath, he slammed the door open and stomped inside the room as if it were his own, startling his mother who placed a hand over her racing heart at the sudden intrusion.

“I’d like to propose a marriage.” He spoke frantically and Alicent’s eyes widened in shock.

“Aemond, now isn’t-”

He interrupted quickly, breathing out the name of the love of his life, effectively shutting up his mother.

“I wish to marry her. I know it’s sudden and to be truthful, I don’t care if you do not agree, I’d take her across the sea to marry her if I had to. We are a fruitful match and I do not see any good reason to disagree.”

His mother was left to stare in disbelief.

A chuckle across the room made Aemond stiffen and he looked over to the other person in the room he had failed to notice. He swallowed, his face growing even paler at the sight of the Lord of Ixtal moving to take a seat in the chair across from his mother.

Embarrassment washed over him as he realized he had interrupted a meeting between his mother and the father of the woman he had just confessed his love for.

“Well, I couldn’t agree more.”

Aemond’s eye widened and he stared at the man incredulously, as if he were merely jesting at his expense.

“I think you two are a fine match.” The man continued. “You clearly hold much affection for my daughter, I could not think of a better person to be at her side.”

Alicent floundered, watching the events unfold before her with wide, horrified eyes. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“Aemond, we have invited Floris Baratheon to the Capitol. You two are supposed to begin a courtship.” She stuttered out, grasping at straws to stop this in its tracks.

“There are plenty of suitors to take my place.” Aemond countered quickly. Nothing would derail him, nothing would take him away from his love.

“He has practically been courting my daughter for years.” The Lord of Ixtal chimed in with a chuckle. He stood and reached his hand out for Aemond to shake. “You’re a fine man, Aemond. I would be happy for you to take my daughter’s hand.”

The praise, which was so seldom among his own family, made his throat tighten in a way he hadn’t expected and he swallowed thickly, clearing his throat as he shook the hand of the man who had just given him everything he could have ever wanted.

“But-“

“I think we should take this to the King. He’ll be delighted.” The Lord interrupted Alicent before she could voice her displeasure, as if knowing what she was trying to do, prompting a look of resentment from the Queen.

Aemond smiled, overcome with happiness and relief. It clouded his mind enough to not notice how deeply shaken his mother looked.

He was delirious, this was far from how he expected this morning to go. He always held a soft spot for the Lord of Ixtal, not only for creating the person he loved more than life itself, but for the kindness he always showed him, even as a young, ambitious child.

He often found himself wishing his own father was more like the father of his love.

His mind was spinning, barely able to keep track as his father’s dear friend, his soon to be father by law, spoke to his own delirious and decaying father, proposing a unity between their two houses.

It was the first time in years he saw his father smile.

Viserys reached a decrepit hand towards him, his smile revealing his missing and rotten teeth as he spoke his praises, most likely for the first time in his short life. Aemond didn’t care, the slight he thought would’ve plagued him was far from his brain.

All he cared about, all his mind could comprehend, was the fact that his father agreed, that he would soon marry the woman he loved with all his heart.

Once they left the King’s room, the Lord of Ixtal placed his strong hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not naive enough to believe the future will be easy, but I expect you to remain at her side.” He spoke lowly, Aemond quickly understanding what he was subtly referring to. The state of his family was murky on a good day, he knew as his father decayed further, the state of their family would become more tenuous. “I trust you to protect her, no matter what happens.”

Aemond nodded, his determination hardening his features.

“You have my word.” He promised swiftly, determination in his voice. “I will protect her with my life.”

The man smiled and cupped Aemond’s face affectionately, the gesture that of a father, causing a lump to well in Aemond’s throat, wondering if his father had ever done the same.

“You’re a good man, Aemond. You’re everything I could have hoped for my girl.”

Aemond cleared his throat, determined to not let himself become emotional at the affection he had seldom felt in his life, save for the one girl who remained steadily at his side.

With the heavy lump remaining in his throat, his numb body moved him from his father’s chambers, making his way to Helaena’s room, knowing that was where his love usually spent her mornings.

He let out a deep breath, his stomach swirling with nerves as if he was nothing more than that lovesick boy again as he thought of what he had just done, what he just accomplished.

He got to marry the love of his life. They didn’t need to sneak around any longer, they didn’t have to hide just how much they meant to each other.

He made it to Helaena’s chambers, his eyes immediately falling on her, taking a moment to watch her bright smile, her glorious laugh ringing out in the room, soothing every worry he had felt the night before.

He stepped into the room, catching Helaena’s attention who perked up and smiled at him warmly.

“Good morning, brother.”

The woman at her side tensed slightly and turned her head, her wide, inquisitive eyes locking onto him, the question in her gaze clear, her worry seeping out from every inch of her.

The slight upturn of his lips was all she needed to answer her silent question and no more than a second later did her entire body sag in relief, a breathless exhale leaving her as she grinned, allowing every ounce of worry and doubt to roll off her, leaving nothing but pure delight.

Helaena watched the two, not needing much context to understand what they shared, their happiness enough of an explanation for what she knew was soon to come.

She stayed seated as she watched her dear friend stand and wrap her brother in a tight hug. She noticed how tightly Aemond held her, how his lone eye closed in content as he held the girl, his usually tense body sagging against her, as if he no longer had any reservations while he was in her arms.

She smiled in relief, feeling nothing but happiness that two people she held so dear would soon start their lives together.

“It is done?” She whispered as she held tightly to the man of her affection.

“It is done. My father agreed to a betrothal.”

A breathless laugh escaped her, her grip tightening on Aemond, though she no longer had any reason to fear he would be taken from her.

Behind them, Helaena’s smile slowly fell, her bright eyes becoming glassy as she stared off into space, the embroidery in her hands falling to her lap as her grip became slack.

“The light of the sun dims under clouds of green and black.”

The lovers were too caught up in their embrace, they did not hear her mumbled warning.

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