#The Winner Takes It All | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anjelicawrites · 1 year ago

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The winner takes it all

Chapter I

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: inspired by the Æthelflæd and Erik's storyline in The Last Kingdom. Might be spoilerish if you haven't seen it (go watch it!!!), even though I've just stolen the inspiration and went on with the story my way.

Warnings: Canon compliant violence, kidnapping, reference to Aemond’s brothel experience.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns are used (they are called “lady” and “daughter of the North”). The only descriptor is that they have long hair

A/N 1: this is an AU. Look at me taking the canon story of Westeros and yell “Parkhour!” as I jump out of the window clutching it in my hands.

18+ only, tank you!

The story of how you found yourself in your current predicament is quite easy, almost laughable in its simplicity.

When the Valyrian troops had mobilized and marched North, your foolish husband had forced you to accompany him during the war, leaving you an easy prey for the Targaryen brothers, who had invaded the camp, while the men were trying to conquer a city that was left empty on purpose.

You had tried to flee and hide and when that didn't work, you had fought for your freedom, to no avail, Prince Aemond was a far too skilled swordsman, compared to you. Still, you had confronted him: you were a daughter of the North, if your people weren’t giving up, you weren’t, either!

He had stared at you with a surprisingly soft eye in contrast with the definitive, yet gentle, way he had told you that a fight would be of no use, yet you had refused to lower your weapon, your hand trembling around the hilt notwithstanding: you were going to try and conquest your freedom, or die, if necessary.

His men had laughed and he had hushed them with a cold stare

"As you wish" he had said, drawing his sword.

You had known you had not a chance by seeing the fluidity of his movements, but you weren't going to go down without a fight. As you had tried to get the upper hand, you had realized he was humoring you, letting you play, like a cat would with a mouse, until you had fallen on your back, your sword too far away for you to recover. You had lain there, waiting for death to approach and he had surprised you by grabbing your wrist to force you on your feet, his left hand tight around the nape of your neck, you frozen in fear as you had seen the cruel smiles of the men surrounding you

"They are precious - Prince Aemond had said calmly - they are our greatest bounty" and the pieces had fallen in front of your face.

Even though running away was pointless, you had tried to elbow him in the stomach and he had just pulled your trashing body over his shoulder, a firm hand to keep you there, as he had walked towards his brother and their army.

You had heard the dragons before you truly saw them, their powerful breathing and movements rocking the earth.

Prince Aemond had stopped and gracefully removed your body from his shoulder, a firm hand around your arm to keep you from going anywhere, but it was not needed, the vision of the powerful beasts had froze both your mind and body: you couldn't believe the dragoness Vhagar could be so massive. You've heard stories, who hadn't, but the reality was another thing, your eyes couldn’t compute and your brain couldn’t accept that a creature this big was capable of living and breathing in front of you. Why did the Gods old and new allow for such a creature to exist?

Using your shock against you, Prince Aemond had forced you to move, until you were at Vhagar’s side and there you had stayed, rooted, incapable of hearing what the Prince was telling you to do. It was strangers' arms that had forced you up the beast's massive body and it was Prince Aemond who had chained you to the saddle, you were too dumbfounded to do or say anything.

It was when Vhagar had moved to fly, that you had started screaming and thrashing, forcing Aemond to curl one arm around your body; you were going nowhere.

The feeling of Vhagar soaring into the sky had pushed your stomach up to your throat and you had to physically force yourself not to throw up, sitting still, eyes closed in terror as the beast flew vertically upward.

"Don't be afraid - Prince Aemond had told you calmly the moment Vhagar was horizontal again - these chains are Valyrian steel, you will not fall".

You could only answer with a litany of scared noes, shaming yourself and your House, earning a joyless chuckle from your captor.

"You saddled for two" you had said after what felt like hours, eyes still closed in fear, mind calmer

"Of course"

"You planned this, all of this"

"We lost a city but, thanks to you, we will conquer the whole of the North".

You had tried to dislodge his arm from around your waist and he had let you, but where could you go?

You had noticed how gently Vhagar was flying. She, or better her rider, had seemed keen on trying to make the journey less of a trauma as they could, keeping a sure course and going slow, Vhagar using the currents of wind to keep herself afloat, instead of her massive wings. You had dared open your eyes again and had focused on her scales, unexpectedly warm under your fingers, not trusting yourself to stare anywhere else, too afraid of your reaction, preferring to lose yourself in your thoughts.

Aemond's voice in your ear makes you jump out of your jumbled memories

"We are going to land. Vhagar will be as gentle as possible - he stops for a moment and hums softly - don't be afraid".

He follows with something in what you believe is High Valyrian and Vhagar starts flying downwards, slowly getting to the ground, where many people are waiting for your arrival.

It isn't casual that the brothers have you walk through the mob, you know they are parading you around as a trophy, showing their people who they have kidnapped. There are hands everywhere, trying to touch you and pulling at your dress with ferocity, as if they want to tear it from your body, to the point that Prince Aemond has to use his men to shield you from the brunt of it, until you enter a big building and are instructed to go down a flight of stairs.

You face a big wooden door that one of your captors opens before forcing you inside

"You have a cot, a table and a bucket. Someone will bring you food and ale".

You turn around to face Prince Aemond

"Do you expect a heartfelt thank you?"

One of the men, a brute with mismatched eyes walks towards you with a purpose and you stand your ground. You are scared, Gods so scared, but you are not going to show it to these men. You are their captive and it’s going to become everyone’s problem.

"I've heard of the courage of the children of the North. Those of you who don't know how to use a sword know how to die on it. It can't be said of many - Prince Aemond pins you with his lonely eye and you find yourself unable to to look away, mesmerized by the lilac hue - they are precious and not to be hurt" he reminds his men

"They showed you disrespect, Your Grace" the brute says, frozen on the spot by his prince’s words

"And what can the disrespect of a dove do to a dragon?"

With that you are left alone in your cell with your heavy thoughts, your body still high on adrenaline and rage seems incapable of staying still. You pace around your small cell, actually trying to gauge the door for signs of rot or any sort of weakness, finding nothing; checking the thick walls surrounding you proves to be equally useless, none of the bricks moves, there’s no mud nor signs of humidity to show you a way out of here. Desperate you use the bucket to prop yourself up a bit to look out the small, rectangular window, the only source of light. With effort and standing on your toes, you grab the bars and try to look outside, needing to see if there’s still some servant capable of helping you, but your sight is met by an outstanding number of silver-headed people.

Everywhere your eyes land, you see Valyrians and no Northerner, your mind flying to the rumors of Targaryens using blood magic to multiply the numbers of their people, in order to make the conquered Kingdoms their New Valyria.

You land back on the floor and start looking for a way out again, methodically trying every nook and cranny of your prison, searching for a secret passage, with no luck, hoping against all you know about this castle. Even the door is solid and study oak wood, the hinges are new and shiny, freshly made to imprison you.

This is the moment you break down, you huddle yourself into the farthest corner of the room and start crying, your face pressed against your bent legs; you long for your father’s strong embrace and your mother’s soothing words. How you wish you could go back to when you were a young child and the world was full of wonder.

You feel so alone.

A couple of floors above you, Aemond is polishing his armor. He has no taste nor interest for the feast his brother is leading for the army or to rape the women taken captive from the camp; his body shudders with disgust at the idea of violating another human being, knowing too well what it feels like. No, he orders himself, we are not going down that route, the dragon garnishes look filthy with blood and mud. Mother would be ashamed to see me parade around looking like that. His hands grab the chest piece with too much force, he folds his long back to look closely at the etched metal, trying to think of the best way to clean the intricate design and he sees where one of your hits has actually left a dent. His finger touches it absentmindedly while his brain goes back to your fight, rewinding it to analyze it: you are rusty but you have been trained, probably since you were young, given how you had managed to work around your weak spots and how fast you were on your legs, even after being chased in the woods. Given the proper training, maybe under someone like him, you’d go back to your former glory. All right, his hand stops caressing the denting, what is going on here? You are bounty, a means to an end. Yes, you are beautiful, even covered in filth and looking so different from what he’s used to, but you are a prisoner, worth your weight in gold and silver, nothing more. You’ll be used to extort all the money possible and then sent back to your husband. If you’re lucky, after the conquest, you will be married to a nobleman loyal to him and Aegon, to fortify the union between the North and New Valyria; again means to a bigger end and nothing more, still, the fear and courage he saw in your eyes, the way you didn’t back down until you saw Vhagar, intrigues him. Even on Vhagar, after your initial terror, you held yourself with a strength he has rarely seen in non dragonriders. Your husband is a lucky man, he thinks and hopes he cherishes you, because you are worth every praise.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #the winner takes it all

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