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aemondapologistfrfr · 3 days ago

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I See You As You Are - Pt5

aemond x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Aemond settle into married life and it’s as if nothing changed besides the fact that you both get to share chambers. Between gifts, conversations, and full moon wishes you both fall more in love.

Warnings: 18+ t e a s i n g, fingering, bondage, p in v, breeding kink confirmed, on a serious note he finally discusses driftmark w reader so mention of mutilation

Authors Note: what the fuck - anon whoever u are let me kiss u just once for planting this into my brain ily ily ily ily ily and thank u for letting me hijack it i love you and aemond so much

Word Count: 8.1k lets pretend this is chill and relaxed 🙂

ᓚᘏᗢ

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The past week has consisted of all of your belongings slowly being moved into Aemonds chambers. You were nervous his softness would disappear now that you are wed but it’s only increased and you realized it was foolish to have that thought in the first place. Your early garden walks are no comparison to walking up to Aemond holding you tightly against him and whispering soft words of adoration.

“Good morning, my beautiful wife.” he hums when he sees your eyes start to open. You yawn and curl into him not ready to begin the day just yet. “What would you like to do today?” he brushes your hair out of your face.

“I believe your dagger is ready.” you mumble pressing your lips to his chest.

“My dagger?” he furrows his brows.

“The one I had commissioned for you.” you look up at him.

“I told you that you needn’t do that.” he sighs, running his fingers down your back.

“I didn’t need to but I wanted to.” you hum. “Will you escort me to the blacksmith?” you start to stretch out.

“I suppose I could do that for something in return.” you squeeze your hand into his side at his words.

“First you don’t want the dagger and now you want it and something more?” you look at him with a raised brow.

“I never said I didn’t want the dagger. I said you shouldn’t trouble yourself with getting me gifts.” he purses his lips before pulling you up to them to kiss you.

“And what is it that you would like?” you throw your legs over his hip to straddle him.

“Mm, I don’t know yet.” his hands rest on your hips. “Might I have the day to come up with something?” you press your lips to his once more before getting off the bed.

“I suppose.” you toss over your shoulder. “Help me dress?” you go to turn to him but his hands are once again placed on your waist.

“I wish to keep you in our chambers naked and filled.” he whispers, pressing his lips to your neck.

“Then who will go to the smithy’s to get your dagger?” you bite your lip, swallowing back your moan.

“I will.” he sucks softly on your neck, relishing in your soft noises.

“What if I want to remain by your side today?” a gasp falls from your lips when his teeth graze your heated skin.

“You won’t even know I’m gone if I fuck you into the mattress hard enough.” he smiles when he hears your soft moan. “You’d be fast asleep with my seed slowly leaking out of you.” you grab onto his arm as he engulfs one of your breasts.

“The way you speak is- Aemond,” you claw into his arm as he brings his other hand between your thighs.

“The way I speak is what?” he chuckles, sliding his fingers down the sides of your slit.

“Filthy,” you pant as he continues to tease you, avoiding where you want him the most. “Just touch me, please,” you whine.

“I am touching you.” he whispers in your ear.

“I want more.” he smiles against your skin at the small whimper.

“Tell me what you want.” he slides his finger through your center. “Why are you so wet?” he continues to slowly slide his finger up your slit.

“Because I want you to touch me more.” you whine.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” he rolls your nipple, feeling your legs start to shake around his hand.

“Like this but more.” your nails dig into his arms.

“I could do this all day.” he nods into your neck as he continues with his teasing touches. “Play with your slick cunny while you shake in my arms. Do you think you’d come if I just kept up like this?” he listens to your soft gasps.

“Yes,” you nod. “Please, just a little faster.” your hips jerk into his hand.

“No, no. Just like this.” he chuckles at your whine.

“But Aem-“ he pinches your nipple pulling a cry from you.

“Shh, just like this.” you lean back against him as your legs continue to shake. “Would you like me to bring you back to bed and fuck you into your pillow?” you let out a soft plea at his words. “Stuff you with my seed again to make sure it takes? Your cunny is begging for it so badly it’s weeping all over my fingers.”

“Please,” you gasp, rocking your hips.

“Please, what?” he sucks softly on your neck.

“Fill me.” his teeth graze against you. “Please. I wish to carry our child. Please, Aemond,” you almost sob when he removes his hands. He’s pulling you over to the bed and soon you’re falling on your pillows. He presses himself against your back and presses his lips to your shoulder.

“Remember you can always tell me if it’s too much.” he whispers, bringing your hands to your pillow and you turn your head to the side.

“Please, I need you,” your voice pleading. Your head rests against the pillow when his fingers dig into your hips and raise them. “Thank you,” he groans at your soft words as he coats his cock with your wetness.

“You are so very welcome.” he presses into you in one motion, watching you dig into the pillow.

“Yes,” you whine and he watches your body tremble before he feels you fall apart around him.

“Mm, you’re sensitive this morning.” he smiles, running a hand up your back. He starts a quick pace and is graced with your small gasps as you hold onto the pillow. You turn your head and bite into the pillow and he chuckles. “No, I want to hear you.” he leans over you and turns your head back. He starts to push into you once more, regaining his fast rhythm.

“Mm, I’m-I, Aemond,” you try to look at him but your eyes keep shutting. “Please,” you feel your pleasure build quickly as you’re surrounded by him. “Yes,” you arch your back more and gasp when his palm lands on your ass. “Again.” you dig your nails into the pillow when he lands his hand on your ass once more.

“Always begging for more.” he chuckles lowly, digging his fingers into your flesh as your continued pleas greet his ears. “Your cunny is begging just as desperately for my seed.” he whispers, starting to snap his hips into you faster.

The only sounds around your shared chambers are your noises and the sound of skin on skin.Your pleas become louder and louder until your pleasure crashes into you. His hips falter feeling you pulse around him before he continues at his pace listening to your soft noises. You mumble slurred pleas beneath him while you continue to flutter around him. With one last thrust he pours his seed into you pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he pants.

“Yes,” the word barely a breath.

“Is there anything you would like?” he presses his lips to your back.

“Tea.” he watches you nod with shut eyes.

“I’ll be back.” you nod once and he sits back to watch as he pulls out. “Perfect.” he watches his seed slowly leak from you.

He makes the tea for you as quickly as he’s able and by the time he’s back to you, you’re asleep. He sets the cup on the side table and pulls the sheets over you. He watches you for a moment soundly asleep in his bed before he begins to dress. He stops at the table to write you a letter and leave it by the tea should you wake before he returns.

ᓚᘏᗢ

When you open your eyes once more you feel the stickiness between your thighs and bury your head deeper into the bed with a small smile. You’ve never felt so improper but so satisfied. You press into the pillow more before shifting your hips, sighing. You look at the side table and find a cup of tea and a rolled parchment. You sit up wondering if he’s truly written you a letter.

Wife,

I had hoped to return before you could find this but I suppose now you can have a letter of your own.

I’m going to the Blacksmith as you requested and I have to stop and pick up one more thing - then I will return.

I wish I could articulate better through letters as you - it’s why I’ve always kept them.

My wish for the moon: I wish to return before you wake so you don’t read this.

You sit in bed with a smile on your face imagining him sitting at the table and writing this. You pull the drawer on the side table to place the letter and a grin spreads across your face. The one place you didn’t think to look. You’ve been searching all over his chambers for your letters and you never expected them to be next to his bed. You pull them out and sift through them feeling a blush creep up your neck. You hear the door open and quickly start putting the letters back as you keep glancing at the steps. Aemond reaches the landing and watches as you try to shove the parchments in the drawer. He sets things on the table before walking over to you.

“Handle those with care.” he chuckles. “They were in there neatly and in sequential order.” he opens the drawer more and starts to organize them.

“I wanted to place the one you gave me in there.” you watch his neck flush.

“I had hoped I would return before you could read it.” he places the neat pile into the drawer and plucks his from your fingers and starts a new pile with it.

“Let me see the dagger. I wish to make sure they did a fine job.” he watches you purse your lips and look across his belt. “Was it not ready? My Gods I’ll go down there myself.” he watches you throw the sheets off and start to rise with a furrowed brow.

“Relax.” he pulls you back to him. “It’s on the table. I haven’t taken it out yet so you might open your gifts at the same time as I.” he chews his lip watching your eyes look up to him.

“My gifts?” you narrow your eyes.

“Let me get you a robe so we can go to the table.” he watches you smile.

“Why do I need a robe? We’re alone.” he lifts you from the bed and starts toward the wardrobe.

“Because if you don’t cover up the only gift you’re getting today is my cock filling your cunny.” he’s satisfied with the flush blossoming across your chest.

“Can I just have that as an extra gift then?” his eye darkens as he sets you down. You blink up at him as he wraps a robe around you. “Please?” you whisper and his lips are on you the next second.

“Let us both open our gifts.” he pulls back. “And I must get you food and a bath at least. Maybe even go to the library or gardens. You’ve been in our chambers for the past week.” he softly chuckles at your pout.

As he leads you to the table he thinks back to when he thought that you would feel like a prisoner, yet here you are willingly hiding in the sheets begging to repeatedly be filled. He watches the robe flow behind you and he can’t help but admire you as you perch on a chair around the table.

“I’m terrified of how much I love you.” he watches a small smile spread across your face.

“Might you teach me the language?” you tilt your head.

“It’ll take time, it’s difficult.” he hums and takes a seat across from you.

“I don’t foresee myself being busy with anything besides loving you and bearing our children.” you nod and his heart skips and he nods at you once.

“Open yours first.” he pushes the wrapped box to you.

You undo the wrapping and steal glances at him when you start to open the lid. A small sound comes from you as you pull the first book out. It’s beautifully bound in a white leather with gold lettering. The second book is as equally as stunning and you begin to flip through the pages looking at the fresh black ink unread by others eyes besides the person who wrote them. He watches you place the books side by side and slowly look up to him with glossy eyes.

“How did you know?” your lip wobbles.

“You’re not the only one who can ask the maesters what someone’s favorite book is. He told me these were the ones you requested when you first got here. I had quite the company working on these just for you.” his words get softer. “I hope they’re to your liking.” he watches your face crumble as tears start to pour over the edge. “I’m sorry. Do you not like them? What can I do?” he’s on his feet and walking over to you in seconds.

“They are so very perfect.” you look up at him. “Just like you.” you rise and pull him into a hug. “You didn’t have to do this.” you squeeze your arms around him tighter.

“You are worth it and you certainly deserve it.” he presses his lips to the top of your head. “And if you’re going to shower me in gifts, know that I will answer that with a storm of gifts for you.”

“You haven't even opened your first gift yet.” you pull back and pout. He chuckles and pulls you back to his chair with him. You stand next to him and push the bag closer to him.

“I still don't think you should have gotten me anything.” he hums, looking at the bag.

“Aemond.” you whine. “Please,” you whisper. You slowly smile as he opens the bag and when he starts to pull it out by the hilt you gasp at how it came out.

Aemond holds the dagger in both of his hands as his eye studies every inch of it. It has the right weight and balance to it and the details you had them put into the leather hilt is.. exquisite.. something he doesn’t deserve. He runs his finger down the length of the blade before flipping it and offering that side the same careful eye. He looks up at you and sees you chewing your lip.

“Is it to your liking? I had told them what I wanted and that it was for you. I don’t know much about blades or how to have them made but I could go to a different blacksmith or..” he watches and listens as you ramble on and he’s at a loss for words. He sets the dagger back on the table and rises to pull you into his embrace.

“I like it very much. It’s beautiful and well made.” he smooths your hair. “I will wear it in place of my other.” you look up at him with furrowed brows.

“You don’t have to replace it. I know you like that one dearly.” he sighs at your soft expression.

“I do like that one dearly, but I love this one. I’ll have you with me everywhere I go now. Thank you.” he pulls you back against him.

“Thank you for my books.” you mumble into his chest.

“Those were only the beginning.” he chuckles, squeezing you tighter.

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The past week and some odd days have been pure bliss. Aemond wakes you in the early morning to ‘help you get more rest’ before he goes to train and leaves you in bed fast asleep. Surprisingly you wake before he returns and you rise and begin to ready for the day. You sit at the table in your shared chambers to quickly write out a letter for Aemond before you make your way to the library.

Husband,

I went to the library to show everyone you don’t keep me tied to the bed - which I don’t think I’d quite mind.

I’ll be in my section on the second floor if you would like to come visit me after your meeting - I’m never opposed to your company.

Also tonight is the full moon - our second together.

My first wish for the moon: I wish for me and Aemond to look upon the moon while the Keep and city sleeps.

My second wish for the moon: I wish for me and Aemond to look upon the moon with Vhagar in hopes that she’ll make a wish of her own - and so that we might have more privacy from curious eyes in the garden.

I love you - I’m counting down the moments until I’m graced with your presence.

You smile at your words and delicately roll up the parchment and display it on the table where he’ll see it. You smooth your skirts and make your way down the steps. You click the doors shut and begin to make your way to the library to hopefully get lost in a book until Aemond comes to you.

ᓚᘏᗢ

Aemond reads over your parchment twice before shaking his head with a smile. Of course only you could ask him to tie you to his bed and then ask to wish upon the full moon with him and think nothing of it. He knows you didn’t mean it but Gods it has his mind racing and pulling open your wardrobe to find miscellaneous ribbon. He walks back to the bed with a piece of green silk and threads it through the center of the headboard.

He shakes his head to clear the thoughts of you tied and squirming in bed. He walks back to the table and reads over your letter once more before walking to the side table to place it on top of the pile. He walks to the other side of your shared chambers and softly pushes open the door to the tunnels and pulls out a box. He’s been waiting to give you this gift and tonight is the perfect opportunity. He sets the box on the table before making his way down the stairs to go find you in the library.

When he walks into the library he lets his eye close, taking in the calming space. He nods at the maester before walking up the stairs and quietly making it to your section. He finds you curled up near the window being bathed in sunlight as you hold your book closely. He takes a seat across from you and he watches you glance up once and look back to your book before your eyes snap back up to his.

“Finish your chapter.” he nods at you and begins to make himself a cup of tea. He glances at you while you chew your lip as you read. He takes his seat once more and watches you shake your head before closing the book. “How is your book?” he watches you purse your lips.

“Frustrating.” you huff. He listens to you talk about your book as he sips his tea and nods. You’re so lively and passionate and he leans back to admire you. “Don’t look at me like that, we’re in the library.” you whisper.

“Like what?” he tilts his head with a smirk.

“You know.” he watches your cheeks flush.

“I have a gift for you in our chambers. Maybe two but I think the other one counts for me but it was in your letter.” he watches you chew your cheek in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you tilt your head.

“You’ll see later.” he hums. “I thought we could read our book while we’re here.” you nod at him and he starts to stand. “Shall I go get it or do you want to come to my section?” he walks over to you and brushes his knuckles on your cheek.

“I’ll come to yours.” you lean into his hand. “I could use a change of scenery.” he helps you stand before escorting you down to his small section.

ᓚᘏᗢ

The entire walk back up to your shared chambers after supper you have been peppering Aemond with questions about what he could have possibly gotten you. He shakes his head and softly hums while keeping you both moving through the halls.

“I’ve actually had these made for you for some time.” he opens the doors as ushers you inside.

“Since before we were wed?” you turn back to him as you start up the stairs.

“Yes.” he whispers and you smile watching his cheeks flush. “Up the stairs.” he turns you around.

You walk straight to the table and take a seat in front of the box. You turn and watch as he walks over to you slowly and you start to pout. You groan holding your hand out for him and he slows his pace even more with a smile on his face.

“Aemond,” you whine, stretching your hand out further. “Thank you,” you smile up at him when he finally reaches you and offers you his hand.

“Go on.” he nods at the box.

When your hand leaves his he brings his hand to the back of your neck to softly rub against the smooth skin. You lean into his touch for a moment before starting to open the box. You pull out a dark pair of trousers and a matching jerkin. You admire the detail and craftsmanship before turning and looking up at Aemond slightly confused.

“Do you not like me in dresses and gowns?” you tilt your head.

“My Gods I love you in dresses and gowns.” his hand trails to your jaw before softly caressing your cheek. “These are for flying. If you wanted to fly with me and Vhagar.” you gasp.

“Can I? She’ll let me? You’ll let me? Oh Gods, Aemond,” you jump up and turn to him with a grin. “Can I really?” he chuckles as you grab onto the front of his jerkin.

“Yes.” he nods with a smile as you wrap your arms around him. “I thought we could fly under the full moon. Vhagar can take us to find true privacy while the three of us wish upon the moon.” he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“Can we go now? Please, please,” you lean back and look up at him. “Please Aemond,” you gasp as his hands start to unlace your dress.

“I’m just helping you dress.” he chuckles when you look up at him with lidded eyes.

“Not even quick? You’ve only filled me once today.” he coughs at your words. “And that was this morning.” you pout as your laces are loosened.

“I don’t like to be quick with you.” he starts to pull your dress down. “I like you trembling and begging before I even think about filling you.” he inhales deeply as you step out of your dress.

“I’m begging for you now.” you push your bottom lip out.

“We have a full moon to wish upon.” he shakes his head softly and grabs your trousers from the table.

He helps you dress despite your pleas. It’s taking all of his restraint as you repeatedly ask to ‘be filled’ followed by your soft little whimpers. He grabs your jerkin and starts to fasten the buttons as you hold onto his arms whispering his name.

“My sweet little wife.” he grabs your chin and tilts it up to him.

“Yes?” you lick your lips.

“Once we return I will do anything you desire.” he nods slowly looking at your eyes.

“Might I just have one kiss to tide me over?” you reach up on your tiptoes. He presses his lips to yours quickly and then he’s pulling you towards the stairs.

ᓚᘏᗢ

Aemond leads you through the gate and you curl into him as you see Vhagar start to stir. You look up at her bathed in the moonlight and shake your head. She’s utterly amazing and massive and honestly, terrifying. You cling onto Aemond as he leads you closer and you look up at him.

“I’m nervous.” you whisper and he looks down at you.

“Why?” he turns to you and brushes your hair back.

“How do you know she wants me to come with?” you chew your lip looking past him at Vhagar slowly blinking and stretching. “What if she doesn’t like me?” you scrunch your brows.

“Vhagar,” Aemond turns and you hide behind his back as her head raises. “Would you allow my wife the opportunity to look upon your face closer? Show her that you’re not as scary as you look.” you hear his tone become playful.

Vhagar chuffs and starts to lower her neck. “Come.” he reaches for your hand and you grip onto his tightly as he leads you closer to her head. “Put your hand out with mine.” you follow his motions and Vhagar drops her head even more.

“Slow and easy.” he feels you press into his side as Vhagar moves her head closer. She stops so the end of her snout is about five feet away from your outstretched hand. You can feel her breath fanning your hair back as Aemond starts to step you both closer.

“Does she like me?” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of Vhagar. “What if she hates me? Oh Gods what if she eats me Aemond?” he turns you to him with a small smile he’s trying so badly to hide. “No you’re laughing.”

“No, no, no,” he cups your face. “It’s just.. I think you should think of Vhagar like me. You know how you were scared of me at first but-

“I wasn’t scared, I was intimidated.” you purse your lips.

“Yes, of course.” he smiles, brushing his thumbs on your cheeks. “Vhagar is just intimidating but I promise she likes you. You know by our readings the riders and dragons bond is very close, similar to them sharing the same feelings and sentiments. I love you very much so in turn..” he watches you nod.

“She loves me very much?” you whisper and he nods. “That does seem fitting. An intimidating dragon with her intimidating rider.” you nod and offer him a smile. “Well if she loves me can you tell her that I love her?” he nods and turns towards Vhagar.

“My wife loves you very much. She wishes for us all to fly under the moon. I think after the first ride she may fall more in love with you than she is with me.” Vhagar blows her warm breath across his face. “Mm, she’s in the business of giving gifts so you may find yourself showered with cattle and goats, maybe even some new things to adorn your saddle.” Vhagar moves her head to look at you.

“That sounds more than just a simple ‘I love you.’ Aemond.” you come up behind him.

“I was telling her that you want her to come with us to wish upon the full moon.” he steps closer and feels you step with him. “And how I think you’ll love her so freely after your first ride.” he keeps stepping closer to Vhagar until his hand brushes against her neck. “And how you’ll shower her with gifts once you warm up to her.” he coaxes you out from behind his back and he watches your eyes widen taking in the close proximity.

“My Gods she’s truly amazing.” he watches with a smile as you reach out and place your hand next to his. “We might not be able to understand each other but I think you’re very beautiful and simply exquisite.” you nod, patting her neck.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” Aemond watches you turn to him and nod quickly. He leads you over to the rope ladder and helps you start your ascent. He helps you settle and takes a seat behind you as you grip onto his hand.

“We’re very high up.” you whisper looking over the side.

“Vhagar and I will die before we ever let you fall. You are safe. I promise.” he presses his lips to the side of your head. “I need you to be very brave and hold onto the saddle because I have to grab the reins.” his voice is soft and reassuring.

“Can I hold onto your arms or wrists or-

“You can grab back onto my hands.” he nods. “You're going to be safe. I promise.” he kisses the side of your head. “Are you ready?” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes.” your grip tightens.

“Fly, Vhagar.” he hears your small gasp and feels your nails dig into him as Vhagar starts to stand.

As Vhagar climbs you both into the skies you cling onto his hands tighter. The wind is blowing into your face so fiercely and you lean down closer to the saddle and Aemond moves with you. Once she begins to even out you slowly pull back from the saddle and your breath catches.

“Are you okay?” he leans more into you.

“I-“ you shake your head. “I’m speechless. This is just..” you’re at a loss.

“I’m going to have us land in the woods. It might feel scary when we’re landing but you’re safe.” he takes one of his hands and wraps it around your front. “You can squeeze my hands as hard as you need to.” you nod your head.

He brings his hand back to the rein and you wrap your fingers around his hand tightly. He watches your knuckles turn white as Vhagar starts towards the ground. When she lands in a clearing he helps you off and you turn to him once you’re on solid ground again. You pull him against you and hug him as tight as you're able.

“Are you okay?” his arms wrap around you.

“You both amaze me.” you mumble into his jerkin.

“Shall we wish upon the moon?” he pulls back to take in your red cheeks.

“I would love nothing more.” you nod. “Oh,” you tug on his jerkin. “Will you tell Vhagar to wish with us?” he smiles at your request.

“Of course.” he kisses your forehead and shares soft words with Vhagar and she looks at the moon before flattening out on the ground and closing her eyes.

“What do you think she wished for?” you whisper.

“Probably a nap or maybe cattle.” he watches you look at his dragon and then back to him.

“Then can we bring her cattle tomorrow?” he chuckles softly and nods to you.

“I suppose we could do that.” you smile up at him.

“Let’s make our wish.” you nod and turn and look up into the sky. For a couple moments there is silence and peace and the only sound is Vhagars breathing. You slowly open your eyes and turn to Aemond who still has his eye shut. You patiently wait and admire him and he slowly blinks his eye open.

“What did you wish for tonight?” he pulls you against him once more.

“There is no pressure, it’s simply just a wish but I would like to see you. But don’t feel inclined.” you shake your head. “I should’ve said something else I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable and-

“My wish for the moon was for you to still love me after I show you.” you search his face.

“Of course I will love you. I will always love you.” you blink up at him.

“Then I shall finish the story I couldn’t before.” he nods and pulls you over to a larger clearing. “Would you like to sit?” you nod and take a seat across from him and hold your hands out for his.

“Whenever you are ready. You can change your mind if you want. It’s never been my desire to make you do something you don’t want.” you nod at him and his thumbs brush against your hands.

“Vhagar’s last rider had recently fallen as I said. She was my cousin. We were at Driftmark for her funeral.” you watch him softly shake his head before he looks back to you. “Aegon was drunk and my mother had gone to bed. I went out and found her. I had truly thought she would swallow me whole.. I would’ve been content with that.” he shrugs, looking at your intertwined hands.

“The first time I sat in that saddle I felt so..” his face scrunches as he looks for the word. “Euphoric, so happy. I felt as if I finally belonged. That maybe they would stop bullying me. I had waited so long to have a dragon of my own and then Vhagar accepted me. She saw me and accepted me..” he shakes his head.

“She took us into the skies and I almost fell off.” his eye meets yours and he has a boyish smile on his face. “My Gods I thought I was truly going to die. I was holding onto her only by the reins.” he chuckles as you look at him with wide eyes. “That might’ve been the first time I felt truly happy.” he chews his cheek.

“We landed back at Driftmark and I was so confident. I had walked into the hall and my cousins and nephews had rounded the corner.” he swallows and shakes his head. “The younger of my two cousins had said Vhagar was hers to claim but..” he flares his nostrils. “Dragons are not property. They’re not something you own. No one has a right to dragons. If Vhagar didn’t want me to be her rider she would’ve burned me. I just..” he clenches his jaw.

“I said some things and called them names and then it turned into this verbal fight and then they had all just..” you scoot closer until your knees are touching. “They had all attacked me, all at once. I was alone, there was no one to help. Everyone was so angry and we were all yelling and then one of my nephews pulled out a knife. I had known there was animosity but.. Anyways I had picked up a rock.” he can’t bring himself to look at you.

“Someone threw sand in my face.” he shakes his head. “I don’t.. I’m sorry.” you watch as he closes his eye. “Luke ran at me with the dagger while I was blinded by the sand, I couldn’t see. The rock was already forgotten and on its way back to the ground but,” he exhales deeply. “He had sliced my face. Straight across my eye. It had all happened so quickly, it hurt so badly. I was just so scared.” he wants to look at you but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“The maesters stitched my face but there was nothing that could be done for my eye. That was the happiest day of my life and it was ruined. Overshadowed. Meaningless. For a fleeting moment, in hopes to console my mother who was in hysterics, I told her it was a fair exchange. An eye for a dragon but..” he shakes his head.

“There was no exchange to be had. Vhagar didn’t belong to anyone.” his eye snaps up to you at your soft words. He reaches up and wipes away your tears from your red cheeks. “You were just a boy.” your lip wobbles. “I’m sorry I’m crying.” you shake your head.

“I’ve shed enough tears over my eye. You needn’t shed more.” he pulls you into his lap and he relaxes as you curl against him and bury your head into his neck.

“I’m sorry.” he feels your tears on his neck.

“Shh,” he smooths your hair and pulls you closer. “I’m fine now, it’s okay.” you curse yourself for crying and having him comfort you.

“Aemond,” you pull back and he takes in your puffy eyes and wet cheeks. “I’m not crying because I pity you. I’m crying because I’m angry and frustrated.” you lay a hand on his chest. “Just a boy. Only ten.” you flare your nostrils and you press your hand against him harder. “Just a little boy who wanted a dragon.” you sniffle.

“Do you,” he swallows and shakes his head. “Do you still wish to see?” he meets your eyes.

“I do but only if you wish to show me.” you nod.

“I do.” he whispers. “I’m nervous.” he looks away from you, scolding himself for saying that.

“Why are you nervous?” his hands squeeze into your sides as he turns back to you.

“I won’t be able to handle it if you can no longer look at me. No longer love me.” he frowns.

“I will always love you.” one of your hands softly cups his cheek. “And I will always find you handsome. I think I look at you and admire you more than you know.” you offer him a soft smile.

“I would know because I’m always looking at you.” you see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“Not when I wake in the middle of the night.” you watch his smile get wider. “You look so peaceful. Your hair is fanned all around your head. Though when I try to move to get a better look you pull me closer.” you nibble your lip.

“It’s okay. I watch you when you sleep too.” he chuckles at your small flush before chewing on his cheek. “If you wish to see me then you can remove my eyepatch.” he hands are firmly settled on your waist.

“You’re sure?” you brush his hair back off his shoulders.

“I am.” he nods once.

He can hear his heart in his ears as you slowly reach for his eyepatch. Your touch is light upon his skin and he watches your face as you start to lift it off his head. He watches your pupils dilate as you take him in and he’s waiting for you to say something but he’s nervous of to what you’ll say. He flexes his fingers on your waist when you bring your hand up to his cheek.

“Please say something.” he hates the way his voice breaks.

“You are very beautiful.” you hum, brushing your thumb along the bottom of his scar. “My well groomed warrior.” you smile and bring some strands of his hair back over his shoulders. “Your sapphire is exquisite.” you shake your head and pull back to cup his other cheek as well. “I think you are very handsome and I still plan on looking at you whenever I can.” you wipe away a stray tear that falls from his eye. “Even when you’re sleeping,” you shake your head. “Especially when you’re sleeping.” his fingers dig into your sides. “I still love you. I will forever.” you nod and press your lips against his. His arms wrap around your back to hold you closer.

“Thank you.” he whispers against your lips. “Thank you.” he repeats, holding you tighter.

“Thank you.” you mumble into his neck.

“Would you like to make another wish with me?” he pulls back and is greeted by your smile.

“I would love that.” you nod. The two of you crane your necks back and look up at the moon. You both send your wishes up amongst the stars before curling back against each other. “What did you wish for this time?” you mumble against his chest.

“For a maester to tell us you’re carrying our child.” he slides one of his hands from your back to your stomach.

“Mm, you should’ve filled me before we left for good measure.” he blinks at you before laughing.

“What was your wish?” he looks at you amused.

“That you would take us back to our chambers and fi-

“Let us wait no longer.” he lifts you both up from the ground and starts back towards Vhagar.

ᓚᘏᗢ

The both of you walk through the dim halls of the Keep enjoying the barrenness save for the handful of guards. His hand is clasped in yours tightly as he starts to lead you up the main stairs. You curl into his side as a draft blows down the stairs and he still can’t wrap his head around how unconditional your love for him is.

“What was my second gift?” you look up at him.

“Hm?” he looks down at your voice.

“You said two gifts earlier.” his eye darkens remembering the silk he tied to the headboard and he lets out a low chuckle.

“It’s in our chambers.” he hears your soft whine. “We’re here.” he chuckles, pushing the door open for you. He’s a step behind you on the steps and you look around the chambers before turning to him with pursed lips.

“Aemond.” you walk over to him and his fingers are unfastening your buttons the second you’re close enough.

“In your letter you wrote me earlier,” he starts to pull your jerkin off. “You said you were going to the library to show them I didn’t keep you tied to the bed.” he pulls your slip out of your trousers before unlacing them and pushing them down. “Which you followed that by saying you wouldn’t mind being tied to the bed.” you step out of the trousers and he starts to lead you toward the bed.

“I did.” you chew on your lip as he starts to lift your slip off.

“So my beautiful wife,” he grabs onto your waist. “Would you like to be tied to the bed while I make you feel good and fill you?” he smiles as your flush deepens.

“Yes.” you nod quickly. “What should we use?” he chuckles as you turn to go find something but he pulls you back.

“I already put a silk ribbon on the headboard before I came to you in the library.” he helps you lay back on the bed. “Arms up.” you watch as he sits on the side of the bed and reaches for your wrists. “Too tight?” he glances down at you as he starts to tie the ribbon.

“You could make it tighter.” his breathing deepens at your soft voice and he tugs them tighter.

“Better?” you nod your head. “I like this very much.” he presses his lips to yours. He presses his lips down your neck and starts to brush his thumb against one of your nipples. He smiles against your neck feeling you pull against the silk. “Mm, is my little wife all tied up?” he presses his lips below your ear and kisses further down to take your other nipple in his mouth.

“Aemond,” you whine when he takes the bud between his teeth. “Please,” you feel him chuckle against your chest before swirling his tongue around your hardened peak.

He lifts off of your nipple and stands up to start to remove his jerkin. He watches you squeeze your thighs together and pout at him.Your soft pleas only make him slow down his movements more making you toss your head back into the pillows. He pulls off his tunic next and you watch him with lidded eyes.

“Please, please Aemond,” you pull on the silk, sighing.

“Hm?” he tilts his head, slowly unlacing his trousers.

“Please touch me.” he abandons taking his trousers off and grabs your leg to open them for him. “Husband,” you softly whisper, spreading your other leg wider.

He trails his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he watches your legs softly shake. His fingers slide beside your slit and continue up to your breasts and to your mouth. He tilts his head and lets his fingers linger on your lips. You part your lips and he presses his pointer and middle fingers in against your tongue. He raises his eyebrow at you and you wrap your lips around his fingers and your tongue softly brushes up against them.

You’re too focused on looking at him that it surprises you when he brings his other hand between your thighs. His thumb barely touches your bud but with every swipe it leaves your hips jerking off the bed. You softly whimper around his fingers before he pulls them out. You look up at him with lidded eyes as his thumb starts to circle your bud with more pressure. He smiles watching your eyes roll back as he pushes the two fingers from your mouth into your cunny.

“Aemond,” you pant, gripping onto the silk. He sits on the bed next to you and starts to move his fingers watching your thighs quake. “Yes, please,” you gasp.

He watches as his fingers get coated in your wetness as he fastens his pace. You arch off the bed and he smiles watching you practically serve your breasts to him. He leans over and captures one of your nipples and he’s graced with cries of his name. He chuckles when your thighs slam around his hands as he continues as he was.

“Aemond,” you gasp as the silk bites into your wrists.

“What do you need?” he flicks his tongue against your nipple. He listens to you try to form a sentence but you go taut beneath him once more. “Was that it?” he lifts up from your chest and sees your face scrunched and flushed with pleasure.

“You,” you pant. “I need you, please,” each word is breathier than the last. “I want to be-

“Filled. Yes, I know.” he chuckles, removing his hands from you and rising from the bed once more. “It’s all day.” he smirks, pushing his trousers down. “It’s always ‘Aemond, please.’ using your sweet voice.” he shakes his head and spreads your legs wider to settle between them. “I’m certain you’re carrying our child. It’s just a matter of when we can tell.” he presses into you and your eyes flutter shut.

“Please,” the plea barely audible.

“What do you want?” he watches your lips part as he snaps his hips into you. “Tell me.” he grunts as he keeps up with his relentless pace.

“More.” you whimper.

He grabs your legs and presses them against your chest as he pounds into you. High pitched cries come from you and he feels you pulse around him. He smiles hearing your wetness seep out of you while he continues at his pace. Your toes curl as your pleasure feels never ending. His pace never falters when you feel his warmth spread throughout you while his fingers dig into your legs. He continues to rock his hips before pulling out and watching your filled cunny leak. He hears you softly whine and he sets your legs down and unties the ribbon.

“Thank you.” you murmur and he watches you stay settled where you are before he lays in the space next to you. “I think you’re right.” you hum, leaning into his hand as he brushes your hair off your neck.

“About what?” he presses his lips to the side of your head and you turn to curl into his chest.

“My moon blood is almost three weeks late now.” his heart skips at your words.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispers and you shrug.

“I didn’t want to get too excited.” you mumble. “But I am.” you peel your eyes open to look up at him. “I wanted to be sure.” he nods, stroking your cheek. “I want to be carrying our child so very badly.” your voice cracks and he holds you closer.

“I know that you are.” he presses his lips to your forehead once more before watching as your eyes shut once more. “Now sleep so you can wake in the middle of the night and stare at me.” he watches a smile form on your face.

“I call it admiring.” you press your lips against his chest.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

surprise shawty next chapter is a pregnancy chapter bc why would i deny us overprotective and obsessed aemond over preg!wife!reader

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething

#i need to be fkn sedated i love him so gd much #im like bereft that we only have two more chaps but they're both planned so yah im hoping we finish this next week #aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #x reader #x reader smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut

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hayleynott · 2 days ago

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Me when yn does something i wouldn’t do…..

#joel miller #daryl dixon #aemond targaryen #theodore nott #rick grimes #marcus acacius #pedro pascal #norman reedus #vander #arcane silco #daemon targaryen #idk what else to tag #logan wolverine #i love pedro pascal #the last of us #oneshot #chapters #imagine

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coffeebooksrain18 · 2 days ago

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Just saw this post and wow I'm disgusted.

So usually I don't do this type of thing as I find it weird but I wasn't gonna reblog this person because I'm someone doesn't want drama. Also for anyone wondering I have blocked them because I don't like their page and mostly because of this post.

So let's start!

Viserys didn't get "bad vibes" he was a neglectful father who forced these children onto his 14 year old wife and then left her. I don't want want here that he was king or that they weren't Aemma’s. Because firstly we know Viserys was there for Rhaenyra so obviously he can find time for his children he just chooses not to do so with the green children. Also the whole they weren't from Aemma argument is funny to me as in the book it is heavily implied Viserys was cheating on Aemma with Alicent (also implied she didn't want it) so obviously it isn't that they aren't from Aemma.

Next this sentence alone shows how TBs can't understand Aegons character. They hate Alicent for hitting him but then want him hit more? Make it make sense. Also yes Alicent hitting Aegon is awful. But you need to keep in mind each time she does she's in high stress situations and we see she wants to hurt Viserys instead. Ie Rhaenyra trying to betroth Helaena to Jace, Aemond losing his eye, Aegon raping a maid. I'm not excusing these actions as they are wrong, I'm only stating you need to see the whole picture before judging the painting.

I truly believe Luc shouldn't have taken Aemonds eye I don't care how scared he was it was cruel and uncalled for. I don't care if he was 6 he had enough time to notice Jace threw sand into Aemonds eye before slicing Aemonds face. Plus he didn't even try and aim for a arm or leg because he could've from where he was on the ground. He chose to stand up and slice Aemonds eye as he already couldn't see to defend himself and I will always say Luc is in the wrong and should have been punished for what he did.

I have made many posts about Helaena, in fact I made one today. But let's go over this again. Helaena had no reason to run to Rhaenyra. She had no reason to trust her nor did Rhaenyra have reason to trust Helaena. Helaena is MARRIED to Aegon, that is her Brother, her Husband, and the Father of her children. I don't care how you all think it was Helaena did the right thing. She chose the people who loved her and cared for her over a woman who in book bad mouthed her and ridiculed her and her siblings in front of all the court.

Now I am done with my rant have a nice day.

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romanteacism · 21 hours ago

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A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary: It's fun to play pretend. Word Count: 5,700 Warnings: Revalations, Lady Elinora and Prince Aemond Growing Closer, Daeron and Edward Protecting Elinora from Aemond, Aemond and Elinora Playing Pretend, Secret Rendezvous

“I heard everything,” Edward stated as he came to Daeron’s door at first light. The prince is still discombobulated from sleep. Silver hair was disheveled, eyes barely opened, and he was only clutching a white sheet to cover himself. “What?” Daeron questioned, overcome by sleep and his tired state did not differentiate if this was real or just a dream.

“Last night, in the halls. I heard you and Prince Aemond.” Edward stated more clearly as he pushed himself inside the chambers of the youngest prince. Daeron sat on the edge of his bed, trying to comprehend the words of his friend, staring blankly at the stone floors whilst Edward waited for his response. “You… you heard everything?” Daeron uttered, piecing together and trying to remember the whole of his and his brother’s conversation. “I have.”

“Then I suppose you now know that we are aware of whom Eli is betrothed,” Daeron said cautiously. “What?! I— What I heard was you playing a failed matchmaker between Prince Aemond and Elinora and how he only lusts after her— you know who my sister is betrothed to?! Even I do not know the man!” Edward exclaimed, and the booming voice of the young lord finally woke the young prince. “Do you really not know? We thought you knew! And you were simply doing your parent’s bidding and not telling Elinora or anyone who he is.” Daeron said as he stood and moved behind a divider to dress himself in a robe. “No! If I had known, I would have told Elinora the moment I knew! I do not agree with our parent’s decision to keep her in the dark when it came to her intended. I, too, wish to know who the man is in order to know if he is deserving of my sister!”

Daeron sighed as he stepped out, “It’s Jacaerys,” He revealed and watched as Edward’s wide, green eyes further widened. “A bastard!? They betrothed my sister to a bastard!?” Edward exclaimed in scandal, and Daeron quickly moved to hush his friend. “Imbecile! If the wrong ears heard you, your tongue could be cut!” Daeron warned and tried to make Edward sit back down, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. “But yes, Elinora is betrothed to a bastard… However, my grandfather reassured us that such a marriage would never take place. He had spoken with your parents, and a quiet agreement has been made that Elinora will not marry Jacaerys— he had gone to great lengths to ensure that whatever agreement or engagements are null and void.” Daeron reassured.

“She can’t marry him… they cannot place her in such a position— Do not twist my words; I am not underestimating my sister, but you and I both know how Elinora is… she can’t even refuse meanless conversation from pitiful lords during balls even though she does not wish for it— what more when it is a band of small folk demanding her?” Edward said in great concern the same concerns that Daeron had when he learned that Elinora was bound to marry Prince Jacaerys.

“I know, I know… I, too, had the same thoughts. But it is no use in fretting over the matter. Rest assured, no marriage shall take place. Jacaerys is already taken by the daughter of Daemon, and Elinora knows not that she is betrothed to him— in time, it was as if no betrothals took place.”

“But what about your brother?” Edward then questioned. “I cannot in good conscience stay under the same roof as him, who had been sniffing around my sister! It is one thing to suspect what men think of Elinora— but to hear him shamelessly utter it is… I cannot stand for it, Daeron!” Edward began to seethe again. “I, too, cannot stand it, but what would you have us do? I have already warned and threatened my brother— and I know your manners nor station cannot warrant it. We cannot bring Uncle into this as it would spiral further out of control, and he will not hesitate to tell your parents, who will then undoubtedly lock Elinora in her cage.” Daeron rambled on.

“Then what?” Edward questioned. “I do not know… but you are set to leave in a moon— we just need to watch over Elinora so that Aemond does not stray closer to her,” Daeron stated, and Edward could only nod with a grievous sigh, leaving his lips. His whole body was tense as he was proven right in all his accusations of the prince. “Go on then,” He stated. And Daeron frowned. “Go, accompany Elinora. I do not blame you fully, but it was your encouragement that managed for the two to grow fonder one another— now you must undo what you have done.”

“Edward! You cannot hold that against me!” Daeron exclaimed. “I can and I will— unless you make certain that your brother shall not come close to my sister. Do you know what he did? He got her a cat! An adorable, fluffy little kitten whom Elinora is already smitten with! He has her in the palm of his hands!” Daeron groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not know fully Elinora’s view on Aemond, but if his brother got her a cat— something she had been longing for since she was a child, it was safe to say that there was already affection blooming in her heart.

“Very well then,” He muttered and disappeared the divider once more to dress. “Make haste; she will wake soon, and she will undoubtedly go to the pond to feed the ducks, and undoubtedly, your brother shall be waiting for her.” Edward sneered as he had grown to expect and know where Aemond waited to have his little rendezvous with his sister.

“Daeron!” Elinora breathed out in shock when she opened her door only to reveal Daeron waiting at the other end of it. “What… why are you awake so early?” She questioned as she looked towards the edge of the hall to see that the sun was barely in its quarter, far too early for Daeron to be awake and ready for the day. “Oh… I just couldn’t sleep— and seeing you always wake so early, I thought I might accompany you today. I feel as if we have not spent much time these days.” Daeron quickly fibbed.

“You slept poorly? Best to try some chamomile and lavender tea— wine cannot always aid you in sleep, Daeron.” Elinora advised as she and Daeron began to walk toward the direction of the pond. Elinora clutched a sleeping Peony in her arms. “I do not like tea! It tastes bitter and as if I’m only drinking the essences of leaves and grass— which I am!” Daeron reasoned as he felt that Elinora was on the verge of chastising him for his habitual glass or two of wine before bed. “But it’s good for you! It calms you down when need be and gives you energy if you wish— you cannot only drink wine, Daeron… I fear you might turn into your eldest brother,” Elinora whispered the final part, conscious of whose ears were eavesdropping upon them.

Daeron paused in his tracks, a dramatic gasp leaving his lips. “You wound me, Eli!” He said theatrically, his hand atop his chest as if he were actually wounded. “You dare compare me to… to Aegon? Of all people?!” Elinora bit her lip to hinder her laugh at Daeron’s antics. “My, my… the capitol has truly changed you— has made you cruel! I think it best we return to the Reach, what has Kingslanding done to our Eli?” Daeron continued, and Elinora could no longer stifle her laughs.

“I am still the same Daeron… I am just worried about you,” She sighed, a small smile still on her lips that seemed to lighten the mood of the rather dreary topic they were partaking in. Elinora had always had that gift about her, a lightness to make any dark or bleak subject find a sense of optimism in it. “I know, and I thank you for your concern,” Daeron smiled and linked their arms.

“So…” Elinora trailed, wanting to hear a certain sentence to leave Daeron’s lips. “Fine, I shall refrain from drinking excessively, lest I become Aegon,” Daeron agreed almost half-heartedly. He had no clue that his accompanying Elinora that morning meant he would give up wine. But he supposed that it was a small price to pay to prevent Aemond from slithering his way to Elinora’s side.

When they arrived at the pond, Elinora saw no other presence present, quietly disappointing her. She had thought that Prince Aemond would be there, waiting for her to feed the ducks and swans just as they did the previous days. Elinora traveled her gaze further around the pond, but the sight of silver hair draped atop black leather was nowhere to be seen, making her sigh and instead forge the thought of Prince Aemond and instead focus on feeding the birds.

She tried to remove her thoughts from Prince Aemond, but as she and Daeron fed the ducks, she could not help but still think of the prince. She had noticed he acted quite differently when others surrounded him. He was more rigid and aloof, just as he was during the previous night’s dinner. There was an edge in his voice and tenseness in his movements, a stark difference from how he was when Elinora would encounter him alone in the gardens and pond.

Aemond gritted his teeth as he predictably saw his brother with Elinora, accompanying her to the pond that Daeron fully knew was where he and Elinora spoke and encountered one another without the disturbance of other interlopers. Aemond breathed heavily as he watched from behind a bush as Elinora arrived by the pond's edge, her eyes shifting, looking as if she was searching for someone— searching for him.

Aemond swallowed thickly at such thoughts and the disappointed look in her jade eyes. Could it be possible? That someone would miss him? Would anyone truly wish to be in his presence and search for his whereabouts, and when not found, would turn disappointed? Aemond turned cold at such realizations. It was a rare sensation and instance, but he would think he should grow to expect it because someone like Elinora was truly rare.

He had the urge to just march towards the pond and announce his presence to her, to wipe away the disappointment in her eyes and let her see that he was there. That he did not forget their custom of feeding the ducks. However, Aemond’s caution ruled his wants. The prince instead left the gardens and pushed away the thought of the girl to the farthest crevices of his mind and hoped by some gracious miracle, his thought would not stray to Elinora.

“What in the name of the gods are you doing here? You should be watching over Elinora!” Edward suddenly exclaimed as Daeron entered his chambers and plopped down on his already-made bed. “Calm down; she is in the chapel with our mothers,” Daeron explained, voic muffled as his head was pressed upon the feathered bed. “By gods, it’s quite exhausting! Elinora does not run around, but we have walked along the whole keep thrice! Thrice, Edward! She had no actual place to go; she just walked around for leisure!” Daeron complained and settled further into the bed.

“She’s not walking for leisure; she’s searching,” Edward explained as he tried to finish writing a scroll that his father ordered him to write. “Searching for what?” Daeron asked, but he quickly came to an answer. “Oh,” was all he could say as he realized Elinora’s sudden fondness for walking was because she was hoping to stumble upon Aemond. “How are you so certain that she was in search of someone?” Daeron asked.

“Because that certain someone was doing the same thing as well. I was breaking my fast in the hall, and I saw Prince Aemond pass by five times, his eye clearly searching for my sister.” Edward explained. “Does she truly like him, or are we simply paranoid? I know he’s my brother and all… however, I quite find it hard to believe that someone would be fond of him in such a way… especially if it be Elinora.” Edward sighed and shook his head. “It’s quite plain… I cannot explain it or fathom it, but I believe all our caution is reasonable. And even if she is not truly fond of the prince, we are both aware of how fond your brother is of her.”

Elinora sat silently and alone in a pew behind her mother and the queen as they listened to a private service since it was proven dangerous for them to venture to the sept. “Seven,” A silky, cold voice suddenly whispered beside her. Elinora was momentarily startled, but as she turned to her side, she suddenly saw Prince Aemond sitting beside her. “What?” She asked, confused by what he had uttered. “I thought you were counting how many times he had said ‘tsk’ during his sermon,” Aemond said but quickly cringed at himself as he had no word of substance to say to Elinora. But he was quick to be absolved from recoiling at himself as a smile came to Elinora’s lips. “No, on the contrary, I was counting how many times he’s been saying ‘hm,’ and I believe it had been five,”

Aemond bit the insides of his cheeks and nodded as Elinora moved to look onward once more as the Maester who was giving the sermon noticed that the two of them were distracted with one another. “Have you fed the ducks today?” Aemond asked quietly as both of them looked before the alter, discreetly having a conversation. “I have… Daeron joined me. Though I must admit, the ducks were skeptical of him,” She answered and ran her fingers through Peony’s fur. Aemond hummed and gave a small nod.

Aemond was to speak again, read to utter another nonsensical thing just to keep his conversation with Elinora. However, they both saw as the Queen glanced toward their direction. “Aemond! I— what are you doing here?” Queen Alicent questioned as his son rarely ventured to the sept or any place of worship uncoerced. “Attending the sermon, Mother,” He answered plainly, glancing towards Elinora, who lowered her gaze and focused it upon her kitten that lay on her lap. Queen Alicent was still quite confused, but she gave a nod and returned to look onward.

“What are you doing here, my prince? If I remember correctly, you mentioned the other day that you have no care for the gods,” Elinora whispered and leaned closer to the prince so that he could hear her. Aemond licked his lips as he followed along with Elinora’s movement and leaned closer to her, her scent invading his senses again. If he were a lesser man, he would give into his urges, bury his nose into her hair, and greedily inhale her scent of lilac and bergamots.

“Such blasphemous words, surely I was not the one to utter it,” Aemond smirked, and once again, Elinora frowned in confusion as he denied an action that he clearly did. “But— do you not remember? We were in the pond and found the duck’s nest and were having a conversation about faith and how you barely have any,” Elinora explained, trying to make the prince remember. “Once again, my lady, I do not know what you speak of,” Aemond said and smirked further as an adorable pout came to Elinora’s lips.

“Why do you do that?” Elinora suddenly questioned as she and Prince Aemond began to walk towards the pond once again. “Do what?” He asked as he inched closer to her side, letting their shoulders brush with each step they took. “Deny things you’ve done— they are not necessarily bad things, which is why it is confusing when you deny it,” Aemond felt a grin itching to come to his lips. “Well, first of all, it’s amusing. Watching you try to figure out if you had false memories or not. And secondly…”

“You’re teasing me,” Elinora said, feeling heat come to her cheeks. “Exactly,” Aemond finally smiled. “That’s mean!” She protested as they descended the stairs, Aemond taking the initiative to hold her arm and assist her as she tripped upon the skirts of her dress. “Not quite… I do not do it out of malice… just amusement.” Aemond explained as they reached the end of the stairs. “So you see me as a jester then?” Elinora questioned, so consumed by how the prince truly viewed her that she did not bother to remove her hold on the prince’s arm, and Aemond did not dare to remove it himself. Letting himself enjoy and indulge in the warmness and touch of Elinora.

“It is just harmless teases, Elinora. Surely your brother and even Daeron do it to you as well,” Aemond remarked as he led them to a path less traveled towards the pond just so they’d be out of the eyes of interlopers. “So if it was all just teases… and you were only pretending… then it was truly you who gave me Peony!” Elinora exclaimed and moved her kitten to be seen better by the prince. Aemond paused for a moment, not thinking that she would mention that subject once more.

“Yes,” He finally admitted and felt his heart stutter as a wide smile overcame Elinora’s face— eyes crinkling in joy and an indent on the right corner of her lips appearing. “I knew it! I— I have not properly thanked you for the past days because I was uncertain, but… thank you, my prince— I never wanted anything more than a cat.” Elinora said gratefully as she clutched Peony closer to her chest, Aemond watching as the kitten snuggled itself further to her owner.

Aemond could only blink as Elinora beamed upon him. The whole of it was overwhelming; with them under the shade of trees, hidden from the eyes of the court, and the image of her with a kitten in her arms and butterflies over her head, Aemond felt a sudden urge to hold her. Not kiss her, but just to simply have her in his arms. Nothing of lust, just something entirely pure.

“You… you need not thank me, Elinora.” Aemond finally spoke. “No, but I do! You’ve given me something I will cherish and love forever! I could only hope I could offer you the same kindness. How could I ever repay you?” She said, feeling rather guilty. She knew there was kindness and warmth in the prince. She now regretted how she had viewed the prince before. She recoiled in her judgment and could only hope the gods would forgive her for her past opinion of Prince Aemond.

Aemond was ready to speak no more of it, to tell her that she had no debt owed, but her words — no, the whole her was too tempting. “Very well then, if you’re this insistent… could you perhaps accompany me to the city tonight?” That made the smile falter on Elinora’s lips. “What?” She asked, a bit shocked by his request.

“The twins’ name day is in two days, and as their uncle, I am expected to bestow them a gift… a gift that I have not yet acquired nor know what it will be. I shall need your help.” Aemond fibbed. He had already gotten the twins their gifts. Saddles for their dragons. But he only wished to be with Elinora, far from the eyes and ears of others in the court, especially her brother and his. Elinora was rendered silent, Aemond clearly seeing apprehension in her eyes. Perhaps he was too forward with his request, but he found little care.

“Never mind, if you do—“ He began to speak, but Elinora quickly shook her head, her guilt already controlling her as well as her wish to please the prince. “No! I… I’ll help you,” she suddenly said. Aemond raised his brow in question, “You’ll come with me to the city?” Aemond questioned once more. “Yes,” Elinora answered, feeling her palms grow cold in nervousness. “I’ll come with you to the city.”

When late-night came, Elinora paced in her chambers. Her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair as she waited for the prince. She turned to the balcony of her chambers, a view of the city and the moon that was nearing its peak. It was far past her usual time of sleep, but even though she wanted to lay her head on the soft feathered pillow, she made a promise to the prince that she must keep.

“Am I doing the right thing, Peony?” Elinora asked quietly as she petted her pet’s fur for comfort. It was daunting to do such a thing. It was filling her with nerves and guilt, but going back to her word would only fill her with more guilt.

Elinora abruptly stood up as three knocks sounded out. She need not question who it was because everyone in her life simply walked into her chambers without announcing their presence. Elinora took in three deep breaths before she approached the door, and when it opened, she saw the dark figure of the prince, his face and hair hidden by a hood. “Are you ready?” Prince Aemond questioned quietly as she was dressed in a gown of light blue, a gown that would easily garner attention.

“I don’t have a hood,” Elinora admitted. “I thought so… here, wear this,” Aemond said and handed her his spare hood, which Elinora quickly took and wore. The girl held her breath as Prince Aemond reached forward and secured the hood to cover her face. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks as the prince’s fingers brushed the side of her neck, but luckily, the shadow of her hood hid the color blooming on her cheeks.

“So… do you have anything in mind to gift the prince and princess?” Elinora asked as Aemond led them through the dark halls of the keep. “What?” Aemond questioned, temporarily forgetting the fib he offered her. “For their name day? I thought that is why we are going to the city,” Elinora stated. “Oh,” Ameond suddenly remembered. “Nothing, I truly have no idea what to give the twins.”

“Where are we going?” Elinora questioned as she thought they would exit through the gates. “Did you truly think that we were going through the gates? Where guards could tattle on us?” Aemond questioned with a smirk as he pushed an inconspicuous wall that led to the secret passages of the keep.

“There are a series of tunnels in this keep that leads to differing rooms, the shore, and the city,” Aemond explained as he took hold of Elinora’s hand in fear she would get lost in the tunnels. “Oh, we also have the same tunnels in Highgarden… but all of them just lead to the kitchen.” She informed, and through the dark, she could sense a question from the prince. “My ancestor was really fond of eating… especially during the middle of the night,” She explained, “Me and Edward often used to play there, but my father had it sealed off when I was eight because I accidentally got lost,”

“Well, best stay by my side then. I’d rather not have you lost here and others discover these secret passageways,” Aemond hummed and smirked further as Elinora did as he said and further clung to his side.

“I’ve never done this before,” Elinora admitted as they finally arrived at the city. Their bodies squished with the crowd, different sights and smells invading and overwhelming her. “Go to the city?” Aemond questioned as he moved his hold to Elinora’s waist to keep her by his side and ensure no danger would come upon her. “Yes, and sneak out without any of my family’s knowledge, leave during the night, and go about unescorted.” She rambled on, her nerves now taking hold of her, and Aemond was quick to sense it. “No one shall ever know,” Aemond reassured.

“What is that?” Elinora questioned as her eyes caught sight of a group of people dressed in quite garish yet luxurious clothing. “Performers,” Aemond answered plainly, his eye keen for any danger that may arise as they were in the crowded street. Elinora chewed on her cheeks, a request wanting to be uttered, but she feared the prince’s response that she might be overindulging with her newfound glimpse of freedom. “What is it, Elinora?” Prince Aemond questioned, already aware that she wanted to speak of something, but she held herself back.

“Could we possibly watch? Just for a moment, then we could return to finding the gifts for the twins.” Elinora asked shyly, already expecting the prince to deny her request. But who could truly deny Elinora? It was most certainly not Prince Aemond.

“Very well, if you wish.” Aemond agreed and felt his heart stutter again as a beaming smile made itself on her lips. It should concern Aemond at how easy she was to please, was she truly that shut off from the world and kept in chains that him just humoring a small request could garner the most breathtaking smile and grateful aura?

For years, he had been surrounded by courtiers who were given all the lavishness that the world could offer, but none seemed enough to quench their desires and wants. with Elinora… he was positive that you could simply bring her a pebble from the gardens, and she’d appreciate it beyond words and keep that rock in her care until the end of her days. Aemond breathed in deeply, and instead of smelling the rancid smell of the city, he could only smell her scent. Elinora was truly a breath of fresh air in the pollution Aemond had been brought up in.

“They're quite amusing… perhaps you could have them perform for the prince and princess,” Elinora suggested, and before Aemond could reply, Elinora’s laugh filled his ears and symbolized him that all he could do was savor the laughs that came from her lips.

When Elinora did not hear the prince’s reply, she ceased her laughs only to see the prince looking upon her intently, making her concious. “Or not— perhaps we should venture to the shops.” She quickly said and tried to be rid of her amusement as it did not coordinate with the deeply serious expression on the prince’s face.

“No… we could stay— I was just thinking over your suggestion,” Aemond quickly said, not wanting to cut short Elinora’s mirth. Elinora was silent for a moment, forgetting their surroundings as she stared deeply into the prince’s lilac eye. She gave a small nod and returned to face the performers and could only hope that the prince was not simply humoring her.

“What of toys?” Elinora suggested as they walked along an alley of differing shops to search for gifts for the twins. After Aemond had spoken with the performers, who were shocked to discover that the most mysterious and undoubtedly one of the more standoffish princes of the realm had watched their performance and now wanted them to entertain the court, he finally led Elinora to the shops. “They already have a myriad of toys— most of them are just gathering dust.”

“Then… clothes? Perhaps a set of them where they could match?” She suggested once more, but the prince only shook his head. “Mother and Helaena had already seen to it that they are clothed in coordinated gowns and tunics.” He responded, and Elinora could only hum, deep in thought.

“Do they have a specific interest?” Elinora questioned as she earnestly tried to think of a gift for the twins that Aemond had already bought gifts for. “I believe Jaehaera is fond of toying around with the abandoned harp in Helaena’s chambers, and I often see Jaehaerys creating doodles when he is set to learn the histories,” Aemond responded and observed as Elinora’s attention was briefly caught by a seller selling sweets.

Aemond was quick to take a few coins from his pocket and handed them to the vendor, took a bag of comfits, and silently handed it to Elinora. “Oh, thank you,” She said in joy as she need not utter anything, but Prince Aemond was quick to notice what she wished for. “Should we then get a small harp for Princess Jaehaera and an easel for Prince Jaehaerys?” She questioned and nibbled on a sugar-coated nut and offered some of the sweets to the prince, who denied her offer.

“Very well then, come, I believe there is a shop that sells music supplies by the end of this street,” Elinora nodded and happily followed the prince as she ate her sweets. “Do you often go here?” Elinora questioned. It was rather a silly question, seeing how well-versed the prince was in the alleys and streets of the city. However, she could not help but ask it because she herself lived in Highgarden but could only account for going to the city five times in her life.

Aemond was silent for a moment, not wanting to reveal to Elinora the true reason why he would often venture to the polluted and crowded place. “Only business demands me to,” He uttered a half-truth. “What type of business?” Elinora continued to question, genuinely interested in the prince. Aemond felt his jaw clench at her questions because he did not wish to lie to her, but he further did not wish to tell her the truth. “You’re quite inquisitive, why this interest in my business?” Aemond then asked to keep Elinora away from the subject of his ventures to the city.

However, his question and his uncontrollable tone of coldness quickly undid the progress they had made that day, as Elinora felt she had grown to be a nuisance to the prince. “I apologize, I did not mean to overstep, Your Highness,” Elinora said in remorse, and Aemond balled his fists as he felt that they were nearing retracing old patterns.

Aemond sighed as they reached the shop. He opened the door for Elinora, who stepped inside and quickly situated herself where they kept the harps, and Aemond could only stand idly by the side as he thought about how to salvage the progress he and Elinora had made. That day was the most natural they had been. Gone was the cold, calloused edge from him, and Elinora no longer shied or cowered away.

“Is the harp for you, miss?” The old shopkeeper questioned Elinora as she observed the harps they had. “Oh, no… it’s for a little girl,” She answered with a polite smile. “For your daughter, miss?” Elinora could only blink at the question. She remembered Prince Aemond’s advice earlier, that they must not be found and that they must be rid of any indications that they were highborn, so Elinora could only smile and nod.

“Oh, what joy! I’m guessing it is for her name day, how old is she?” Aemond watched from the door as Elinora humored the shopkeeper and conversed with him a fake life. He watched her fiddle with her hair as the shopkeeper continued to speak, trying to learn more about the hoax of life she tried to sell, and Aemond could not help but be amused.

There was a clear tell in Elinora when she lied. She could not hold the gaze of anyone, and her fingers would play with the ends of her hair. Twirling and coiling the dark auburn strands repeatedly as if to soothe herself. “So which harp, miss? So I could wrap it up, and you could be on your way,”

“That one,” Aemond finally announced his presence as he stepped forward and pointed upon a small harp with carvings of flowers and serendipitously, ducks that Elinora had been eyeing since they stepped foot into the shop. “Oh, is he your husband, miss?” The shopkeeper questioned, and Elinora was rendered speechless. Cheeks so red that she was certain that she was the color of a poppy. “Yes,” Aemond answered for her, his heart beating erratically in his chest as he said the simple word.

“Oh, very well then, I’ll have it wrapped and ready for you, sir.” The shopkeeper said, but Aemond shook his head. “I shall have it picked up later today, but we pay now,” He said, not wanting to carry around a harp in the city streets and most certainly did not wish to reveal that they resided in the Red Keep. “What name shall I have it saved for, sir?”

“Peony,” Elinora was the one to reply, finally taking hold of herself as she had forced herself to be absolved from the redness on her cheeks. “Peony?” The shopkeeper questioned, and Aemond stilled as he watched the man try to take a good look at his face that he had hidden under the shadow of his hood. “Yes, it’s our family name— here’s the payment. Now, if you would, my wife and I must get back to our daughter. Goodbye,” Aemond hastily said and took hold of Elinora’s hand before rushing out of the shop before their true identities were revealed.

“Oh gods,” Elinora breathed out, heart racing at the sudden thrill of it all. “You’re quite a good liar,” Aemond stated as he saw that there was turmoil running in the girl’s mind. It was as if she was guilty, but at the same time, she was thrilled at the sudden adventure. “I’ve never had to pretend to be another person before!” Elinora said in excitement, and Aemond bit his tongue as he saw a newfound twinkle in her light jade eyes. “Best get used to it, we still have to acquire Jaehaery’s gift,” Aemond said with a small smile as he and Elinora continued to play pretend that evening with just the two of them, hand in hand, in the streets of Kingslanding away from the eyes of the court.

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie @emerald-jade1

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imdrinkingthebloodfromtheseposts · 3 days ago

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ZOOWEEMAMA

#aemond targaryen #hotd #a song of ice and fire #got #house of the dragon #game of thrones

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noctis-tempestus · 1 day ago

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^ this

#aegond #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd memes #hotd shitposting #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen

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daenerys-apolog1st · 24 hours ago

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Something I've seen Team Green bring up is the idea that we should all feel bad for Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena because they weren't "welcomed into the Targaryen family" and were "ostracized from the family" or whatever, but like...the only people holding them apart from "being true Targaryens/being apart of the Targaryen family" are the Hightowers, namely Otto and Alicent.

In Season 1 we saw glimpses of how Alicent's kids and Rhaenyra's kids interacted when left to their own devices: in one episode we see Aegon actually getting along with Jace and Luce and joking with them, in another episode we see Jace dancing with Helaena while his siblings watch and smile, and all the "bullying" TG brings up Aemond facing is just like...standard kid stuff- (and was led by Aegon, I might add) -not really anything particularly bad, and I say this as someone who was bullied---it doesn't make it right, but it's what kids and siblings tend to do. There's even a deleted scene where Rhaenyra dotes on Aegon and bonds with him, and in the books Rhaenyra refers to Helaena as her "sweet sister" and said she'd welcome her brothers with open arms if they bent the knee. Not to mention that Viserys constantly reminds everyone that they're family and they need to stand together.

(Driftmark is an entirely separate thing that I'm not gonna comment on here, I'll make another post about it later, but essentially it was an emotionally charged, high-stress, situation---but clearly an accident and something outside of the norm for EVERYONE)

In short: for the most part, they seem to get along pretty well. Yeah there's disagreements and they sometimes don't like each other, but that's standard family stuff---sometimes you hate your family a little bit, sometimes you feel like they hate you, but it passes and in the end you all love each other. You're still family.

The separation doesn't come from the Targaryens, it comes from the Hightowers.

Alicent, in like one of the first scenes we get with her actually interacting with her children, tells Aegon that he can bully Aemond in private but in public they need to stand together because it's them against everyone else---she tells Aegon that Rhaenyra will kill him to secure her inheritance and doubles down after Aegon says that he doesn't want the throne/won't challenge her. We also see through Aegon and Aemond's conversations with each other that this is sentiment she's expressed before to ALL of her children.

Alicent, when Rhaenyra tries to make peace by betrothing Jace and Helaena together, basically spits in her face and refuses before telling Viserys that it'd happen over her dead body---once again, separating the family. Alicent and Otto were plotting usurpation since Aegon was born and even BEFORE, and that clearly spread into how they raised Alicent's children---hereby separating them further.

Even before Rhaenyra had children of her own, Alicent showed distain for Targaryen culture saying- "you Targaryens do have queer customs" -which separates her, and then her children by proxy, from being Targaryen---and later on we see this taken further when she and Otto remove all the Targaryen cultural items and decor from the Red Keep and replace it with their own religious items. This continues to separate her children from being Targaryens by separating them from their history and culture.

All of this separation doesn't come from Team Black or Rhaenyra or even Viserys---Otto and Alicent are the ones doing everything they can to keep Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena separate from their Targaryen family/heritage, and everyone suffers for it.

If TG wants to feel bad for them for being kept separate from "the Targaryens," have at it, but place blame on the people who actually ostracized them instead of just pretending Viserys/Rhaenyra/whoever were the ones who did it.

#asoiaf #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #jacerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #viserys targaryen #anti team green #team black #alicent hightower critical #anti alicent hightower #anti alicent stans

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ladylokianna · 2 days ago

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Is it possible to cry all your tears for a story? Absolutely yes. 💔

I'm grieving right now, I'm serious. 💔

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep?

Series Summary: Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

This series begins approximately 1 year before the events of Season 1, Episode 8.

Chapter 1: Moonstone

Chapter 2: The Same Agony

Chapter 3: I Have Claimed You

Chapter 4: Under The Heart Tree

Chapter 5: I’m Coming Back

Chapter 6: You Are In Battle

Chapter 7: Final Tribute

Chapter 8: Starfall

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction #hotd #hotd aemond #beautiful beautiful beautiful

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aemsgirl · 2 days ago

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In Spite Of Us.

Modern Aemond x Reader. PT2

Summary: The lines tangle tighter, pulling you and Aemond into something neither of you can fully control—something that could cost you everything. But in the end, none of it matters. Not if the pain fades into something you can stomach. Not if you can tell yourself it’s worth it. Even if he leaves you in ruins, painted in black and blue.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Oral sex, violence, mention of illegal activities, incest, dub-consent, aggression, degradation, mention of blood, childhood trauma, mention of attempted suicide.

The mornings were fucking hell. Shafts of light pierced through every crack, heating up the room that was already suffocating with the windows closed tightly. You'd learned better than to leave them open, or anything else, for that matter. One slip and it was over—whether it was the cops or the worst of the fucking dragnet. Who wanted your head more at this point? Hard to say. Aemond wasn't making it any easier, carving his own path through this mess. The blood was heavy on your side, stained deep under your nails, but his? Worse. At this point, it was hard to tell. The chipped black polish on his nails was the only dead giveaway.

Aemond used to grunt in his sleep, tossing and turning, his restless movements making the bed feel like a battlefield. Meanwhile, you were as still as a statue beside him, and he couldn't help but wonder how the hell you managed it. But today? Today was different. He woke up without the usual weight of a hangover, his eyes snapping open, the light cutting through the room like a blade. His hand instinctively found his face, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to shake off the drowsiness, but it was futile. Some mornings, he just wanted a shock straight to the skull—anything to wake him up fully and get rid of that corpse-like heaviness dragging at his bones.

Rolling over, his gaze landed on you, as always. Lying on your side, eyes closed, still wrapped up in the sleep-induced haze. He knew you wouldn't wake up now, not with the crap you shoved down your throat every night just to knock yourself out. It was the usual routine. Him waking up first, having to shower alone, eating alone—shit, he didn’t even get to share the fucking morning with you. It pissed him off, made him want to pinch you from head to toe just to see if you'd stir, maybe open those damn eyes and remind him that you were still here. Still fucking human. Still present.

But he didn't move, not yet. Instead, he just watched you, lying there so still, almost serene. Usually, you were a pain in the ass—your tongue sharp, always quick with a retort, too fast for your own good. But like this? Like this, you were calm, a whole different side of you that made his gaze linger longer than it should. It was almost unsettling how peaceful you looked, and he couldn't shake the thought of how fucking strange it was to see you this way.

It was like those beaches he’d seen in pictures, the ones with the waters so blue they looked almost unreal, like a fucking dream. On a hot day, you'd dive in without thinking, wanting to swim every inch of that vast, sparkling expand until your body ached and your lungs burned. But there was always a little sign, tucked away just out of sight, warning you: beware sharks. And even if it looked inviting, even if every instinct screamed at you to dive in, you knew better. One wrong move, and those sharks would rip you to shreds before you could even get tired.

Yet, the thought of being devoured, of sinking into that cold embrace, was oddly tempting. The idea of being consumed by you, torn apart and remade—yeah, that sounded fucking good to him. Almost too good.

Aemond's breath escaped him in a heavy sigh, as if exhaling his thoughts right along with the air, the weight of them pressing on him like an invisible burden. He tore his gaze away from you, reluctantly letting the stillness of your form fade from his view. With a sluggish movement, he sat up, his body protesting the action with every subtle shift. His muscles felt like they were made of stone, every tiny movement pulling at something inside him, making him ache. He glanced around the room to make sure everything was where it should be—nothing out of place. The blue light still bathed the walls in its soft glow, although it lacked the same intensity it had at night.

He stretched, hoping to shake off the lingering heaviness of sleep, but it only worked halfway, leaving a faint ache in its place. His eyes found you again, just from the corner.

Fuck this. Fuck you, he thought.

His gaze, whether he intended it or not, traced the contours of your body. The curve of your hips barely concealed by your panties, your torso only covered by a sheer white tank top, your breasts almost visible, your nipples subtly outlined, calling to him, even if unknowingly. Your body always beckons to him, regardless of the situation, the mood, or the moment. Every woman has an itch, and he knows yours is him. There's no other explanation, and he wouldn't accept any alternative.

His body moved as if he was being called by a siren. The not-so-gentle hands turned your body so you were lying on your back and giving him a better view. You groaned softly, but didn't really wake up. Your body, swallowed by heaviness and sleep, too heavy to actually do anything. Vulnerable, open. Everything Aemond likes, everything he wants. Like a fucking leech, or maggots crawling on dead flesh feeding on what's left of a life, he feeds on these moments. Control, pure and raw. Over everything, over you.

His fingers clawed at your legs, dragging himself across the bed like a really silently predator stalking its prey until he was nestled between your spread thighs, squatting on his heels. His fingers, cold and unyielding, scraped down your thighs, seizing your ankles with a tight grip. He dragged them, forcing your feet to frame his body on the bed, keeping your legs wrenched apart, exposing you. You were so fucking malleable under his hands, like he could take you apart and put you back together however the fuck he wanted, twist your body into any perverse shape his dark mind conjured. And he loved it, loved how you were his to corrupt.

"I'm hungry," he murmurs, the words dripping with that familiar, chilling tone. You've heard it before, countless times, in various contexts, knowing damn well what it means when he says it like that. It's not about food.

He fucking knows you remember, too. The times when there was no food, or when dad, that piece of shit, would beat you until you were sick. The leather belt, the shine of the silver buckle in the dim light, always after a meal, when your stomachs were full. And on your knees, he’d beat you until vomit painted the floor, until there was nothing left but the acrid taste of bile. He remembers that bastard's smile, how he'd grab him by the hair, forcing his face into the mess he'd made. He remembers the shaking, the pain, the hunger that followed. He remembers you.

Like a fucking feast, like you are now.

His fingers slithered over your skin, their tips sneaking under your tank top, feeling the fabric’s edge. He watched as goosebumps erupted across your thighs, your body betraying its response to his touch. Like it always fucking does. When his hunger was palpable, it didn't matter if your eyes were wide open or shut tight, if your mind was with him or lost in some dark dreamscape behind those lids. He'd always been this way, and you? You'd always allowed it. Ever since before that son of a bitch's death, when he first felt you wrapped around him, when you heard him jerking off to thoughts of you at night, whimpering into your ear, his hips grinding against you. You'd always let him because you want him; you fucking need him.

And you'll get it. You bet your ass you will.

His fingers ascend, dragging the fabric of your shirt with them, baring your breasts to his ravenous gaze. At the mere sight of your skin, his mouth waters. Your head turns aside on the pillow, a low moan escaping you. You feel the heat spreading through your torso, warm and alive. His fingers then travel down to your panties, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and slowly dragging them down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes lock onto your pussy, so fucking perfect for him. Always so fucking perfect, so good. How in hell could something this delectable even exist?

"I'm hungry," Aemond murmured again, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he visually consumed your intimate space, as if he hadn't already memorized every inch with his own senses.

He lowers himself, almost flattening against the bed, his long fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. He takes a moment to savor the view from this angle, your little cunt in his face, his gaze traveling up past your breasts to your face, turned away, lips parted, teeth just visible. So fucking beautiful, it makes him want to rip your face to shreds with his bare hands, to create chasms with his teeth, to chew on the pieces. He could do it, he wants to do it. But somewhere deep down, he knows that even if your flesh were torn apart, you'd still be this oppressive tightness in his chest. And he fucking hates it.

"And you're going to feed me, aren't you?" he whispers against your skin, his breath hot as it fans over your heat, noticing the slight twitch of your leg beside his head, but nothing more.

His tongue extends from your entrance to your clit, dragging up to your lower stomach, the sensation of his warm tongue unmistakable even through the haze of your disjointed thoughts, the weight of your limbs anchoring you to the bed. His lips return with increased urgency, one hand gripping your thigh, pulling it to his mouth, his teeth sinking into the skin of your inner thigh, while the other hand rises to grab one of your breasts, his fingertips pressing into the flesh. Your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling with mounting intensity.

His tongue traced a path down your inner thigh before making its way back to your core, not wasting time before delving in. It rolled between your folds, coating them with his saliva. As his tongue danced over your entrance again, the taste of your arousal hit him, eliciting a moan from deep within. Your body responded to every touch, tightening, a dim light seeping through your closed eyelids, though the two purple pills you'd ingested the night before made full consciousness elusive, your reactions slowed, your desires muted.

"You're getting all wet for me, little dove," he murmured, his voice low, muffled by your pussy, with no intention of pulling away to speak further. "Dirty girl, I should rip your throat open for this." A growl rumbled from him, his eyes closing as he sank deeper, his entire being focused on the sensations his mouth was exploring, leaving all his senses tethered to the act of licking you everywhere.

Your lips part further, a moan slipping through, your brows knitting together, etching a line of tension on your face. Your hips begin to shift weakly on the bed, up and down, your whimpers soft and muffled by fatigue. Aemond responds with his own sounds against your intimacy, taking full advantage of your semi-conscious state to vocalize his pleasure unrestrainedly. His fingers play with the nipple he's captured, giving it a sharp tug to jolt you further into awareness. Your legs, on either side of his head, fall open wider.

It's too good, too fucking good.

So good that you're unaware when your fingers find their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his black hair, pulling him closer in an instinctive, desperate plea for more.

Aemond freezes.

Your heart pounded like a drum, the shock of wakefulness like a slap across your face. Sweat beaded at your temples, and when you looked down, Aemond's eyes were already locked on you, his mouth still against you. The room seemed to stand still, time itself arrested. The chill that ran through you was like a bolt of ice, your senses suddenly sharp but tainted.

You attempted to rise, but he pounced, his hands reaching for your neck while your legs thrashed to push him off. You knew you were doomed if he pinned you down. Aemond grappled with your flailing arms, your nails raking his skin each time he tried to seize your wrists. But your resistance was faltering, and you knew this could be the end.

His fist slammed into your jaw, snapping your head to the side, blood erupting from your nose onto the pillows. His thighs clamped over yours, holding you down, but you still fought. His hands pressed your shoulders into the mattress, aiming for your neck, when you clawed at his throat, your nails digging in deep. A pained grunt escaped him as he clutched the bleeding marks you left on his neck. You seized the moment to free one leg, using your foot to shove his chest back.

"You fucking bitch!" Aemond's yell reverberated, but there was no time for discussion.

You hit the floor with a thud, a groan of pain escaping you. You saw Aemond beginning to rise from the bed, coming for you, and despite the difficulty, you managed to scramble up, staggering as you bolted. You collided with furniture, each impact a jolt of pain, while behind you, Aemond closed in with purposeful strides, his fists balled, jaw clenched tight. He was boiling over, rage spilling out like steam from an overfilled pot, threatening to scald you.

You made it to the living room, positioning yourself behind the small glass dining table. Aemond appeared in the doorway, his heartbeat almost audibly pounding, the intensity of it pressing against the air in your throat. Your naked body felt too exposed, his gaze raking over you, but not with lust. No, this was the look of someone intent on tearing you apart, letting you bleed out.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" you scream, knowing your words would fall on deaf ears. This wasn't the Aemond you knew; it couldn't be, not in this state.

He moved to the other side of the table, effectively blocking your escape route to the kitchen where you might have grabbed a knife. His eyes, wide and void, met yours, almost lifeless. Your palms were slick with sweat, your feet rooted to the spot despite your mind screaming to move. The mantra echoed in your head, 'he's coming for you.'

"Run," Aemond said, his voice laced with a sinister glee, his smile all teeth, gleaming menacingly.

And you didn't hesitate.

Your feet propelled you forward, his hot on your heels, the air barely making it into your lungs. You clutched the bathroom door frame, ready to dart inside, when his arms encircled your waist, lifting you off the floor. Your legs flailed, your hands clawing at his arms to break free, his grip squeezing your ribs like a vise. He began to retreat, pulling you with him, but you reacted swiftly. Your elbow slammed into his ribs, and when he didn't release you, your head snapped back into his, his sharp cry of pain mingling with the force that sent you sprawling to the ground.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his fingers pressing against his newly bloodied nose, courtesy of your counterattack.

You scrambled across the floor, more like a creature than a human, managing to slip through the bathroom door. You locked it with trembling hands. The door shook under the assault of Aemond's fists, each impact making you jump back, landing on your rear. The wood seemed on the verge of splintering with every hit. Your eyes darted around; there was a small window, but it was too narrow for escape. You'd tried before; it was impossible.

"Open the fucking door!" he yells, his punch so forceful it seems to bruise his knuckles, but the pain is the last thing on his mind now, only you matter. "It's going to be much worse for you, much worse!" His voice drips with venom, and with truth; it would indeed be worse.

But you don't care. Using the sink for support, you stand, and in the mirror, you see the blood trails from your nose to your lips. Your hips will soon bruise from the collisions with furniture and the floor. Desperation grips you as you pull at your own hair, each knock on the door a reminder of your vulnerability. Until his foot slams into the door, and you turn just in time to see it buckle.

You need to do something.

With no time for thought, your fist smashes into the mirror, glass exploding in all directions. The sound halts Aemond's assault briefly, as does your sharp cry of pain, your blood now dripping from your cut knuckles onto the white tiles. You frantically search for the largest, sharpest piece of glass among the debris, feeling the sting of tiny crystals under your nails.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Aemond's voice escalates with new urgency.

With another powerful kick, the door gives way, splinters mixing with your blood on the floor. Aemond's gaze locks on the bloody glass in your hand, his own rage intensifying. Eye to eye, you brace for what's to come.

He's coming for you, so you come for him too.

Aemond steps forward, and so do you; the glass slices the side of his arm, drawing blood. He staggers back, clutching the wound, and you advance, but he quickly seizes your wrist, twisting it viciously. It feels like he might break it, your fingers crushed further into the glass, embedding it into your palm. A scream tears from your lips, tears at the corners of your eyes. You're forced to release the shard, which shatters on the floor. With a knee to your stomach, Aemond sends you crashing down, all air exiting your lungs.

Slowly, he kneels beside you, watching your mouth open in a silent scream, your hand clutching your stomach as if to hold yourself together. Fucking pathetic, he thinks, the urge to spit in your face, to make you swallow every piece of broken glass on the floor overwhelming him.

"I should make you chew this whole fucking glass right off the floor." His threat is punctuated by him grabbing your hair, yanking your face closer to his.

Your pained expression feeds into him. He's aware he's using you as a punching bag, treating you like you're worthless, and he doesn't feel an ounce of remorse. Perhaps he will when the rage subsides, but when does it ever truly subside? Was it ever meant to? He doesn't know. But he's hard, painfully so under his underwear, throbbing with every tear that escapes your eyes, consumed by a frenzy that's pure and intense.

He slams your head back onto the ground with all his might. You squeeze your eyes shut, but there's no escaping the pain. Both his hands encircle your neck, and to prevent any more tricks, he kneels on your thighs, his weight crushing your flesh, drawing a scream that's stifled by the lack of air. There's a high-pitched sound in your ears, reminiscent of chairs scraping or the squeaky springs of that old swing in the dilapidated playground where you once played, where you felt like you could touch the clouds when he pushed you. You almost wish you could now.

"Die! Why wont you die?!" Aemond screams into your face, but you know he's not seeing you; he's not screaming at you.

Your hands claw at him, your nails raking down his bare chest, only adding to your torment. Aemond's eyes close, his body shaking above you. His nails dig deeper into your neck, darkness enveloping your vision. Your back arches in one last attempt to free yourself, and a loud, pained moan escapes Aemond as he climaxes in his underwear, the sensation so intense it could have shattered him instead of you. The pressure becomes unbearable, your lips parting in a futile attempt to breathe. Your eyes close, and you're thrown into a cold, black abyss. Alone.

Nights always carried a kind of mercy. The cold slipped through the cracked window, brushing against the room like a quiet apology for the chaos that had come before. The neon blue light pulsed faintly, painting the walls with something soft, almost alive. You’d always thought the blue was too sad, but Aemond liked it, so it stayed. Yet tonight, when you opened your eyes, it wasn’t blue filtering through your lids. No, it was clear light—sharp and unkind. Strange.

Then the ache hit. It was everywhere, spreading from your fingers to your chest like it had been carved into your very bones. Every muscle in your body screamed, raw and heavy, like you’d become one giant bruise. And maybe you had.

Your eyes moved across the room, desperate to find him. Your chest tightened when you didn’t see him straight away, and panic started to set in. But just as you shifted, ignoring the pain in your ribs, the bedroom door swung open, and there he was.

Aemond stepped inside, his movements deliberate, his frame cutting a sharp silhouette against the light. He was dripping wet, his hair clinging to his shoulders in dark strands, wearing nothing but jeans slung low on his hips. In his hand, he carried a white plastic bag, casual as ever.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice steady and low. The sound of it cut through the stillness, grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

You glanced down at yourself, noticing the oversized shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that didn’t belong to you. His, clearly. You caught sight of your wrist next, carefully wrapped in white splints. The work was precise, too meticulous to have been done by anyone but him.

“Hey,” you croaked back, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt foreign in your throat, raw and strained. The bitterness in your mouth confirmed what you already suspected—he’d forced some medicine into you while you were out. It was just like him.

He moved closer to the bed, his gaze fixed on you as he settled on the edge. The space between you was thin, almost nonexistent, but it still felt like a gulf. You studied him, and he studied you right back. The marks on his skin stood out against the pale light—your nails had left their trails, violent and deliberate, carving down his neck, chest, and arms. There was a deeper wound too, one from the glass, glinting faintly in the morning light.

And he saw it too—the purple bruises on your neck, stark against your skin. His fingerprints. They sat there like inked tattoos. He likes them a lot.

“Do you want a picture?” Your voice cut through the silence, hoarse but steady, your words laced with that sharp edge he knew so well. It didn’t hurt anymore, and that was enough.

“Yeah,” he muttered, almost laughing under his breath. His eye traced your face like he was memorising it, his thoughts catching on the idea. If he had a camera, a good one, and if things were different—better—this house would be covered in you. Your face, your body, your marks. Everywhere. You’d be the only thing worth seeing.

The silence wrapped around you both, not oppressive, but present, like a third figure in the room. His hand, trembling with hesitation, inched towards yours. You caught the flicker of doubt in his movements, and without giving him a chance to second-guess, you reached for him. Your fingers threaded through his, clasping tightly, as if sealing a quiet promise neither of you dared to speak aloud.

The thought settled again at the base of your skull: If it doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s okay. Even if every inch of you was bruised and battered, flesh stained in shades of blue and black, it didn’t matter. It was just a body, after all—just skin and bone. Nothing more, nothing less.

When his gaze finally met yours, it wasn’t with the depth you might have hoped for. His eye held a flatness, void of the kind of emotion he wished he could express—or the kind you sometimes wished you could see. But you’d long since stopped expecting it. He didn’t know how to show it, couldn’t, and that was all right. You had learned to live in the spaces between what he gave and what he withheld. In the end, you told yourself, it would be bearable. Even if the walls of this house crumbled into ash one day, you’d both still be here.

Your eyes searched his, and his mirrored the same dance. Without warning, he pulled hard on your hand, yanking you forward until your chests collided. His arms snaked around your shoulders, locking you into him, as if he were holding on for dear life. Instinctively, your hands found his waist, drawing him closer, your fingers gripping tightly as if the two of you could weld together. Your face nestled perfectly into the curve of his neck—a hollow that seemed carved for you alone. A place to rest, and perhaps even to bite when the need arose.

Holding him like this felt steady. Familiar. Safe. Just as the bruises and scratches had their place, so did the moments like this—the quiet inhalation of his scent, the way your arms clutched at him like he might disappear. It was measured, restrained, the intimacy meted out in doses small enough not to overwhelm. Anything more would be unbearable, tipping into something too raw, too unmanageable.

“I brought you something,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. Slowly, he pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze again.

You said nothing, only watched as his hands left you to reach for the white plastic bag he’d brought in earlier. His fingers dipped inside, searching like a child eager to reveal a secret treasure. When he finally pulled it free, the golden wrapper caught the light, and your eyes locked onto the familiar shape of the chocolate bar.

Of course. It was always this. Sweetness. That was what he saw in you, wasn’t it? Something indulgent. You didn’t mind, not really. Even though you knew it was fleeting—your teeth would rot eventually, fall out maybe. The ants might come, leaving trails of fire across your skin. But none of that mattered, not when the sweetness melted on your tongue. He always brought it to you. Always.

You take the bar from his hand, tearing it open with your teeth like you’ve got no time for subtlety, the wrapper crinkling loud enough to fill the silence. Chocolate smears across your fingers as you peel it back, and you pause for a second, staring him down before sinking your teeth into it. A big bite—half the damn thing gone already. Aemond watches you for a moment, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smirk, but then his gaze drops to his hands resting in his lap.

“You need a shower,” he says finally, voice low but firm, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “The Worm wants to see us at the club tonight.”

Your eyes flick up at that, unimpressed, because of course that bastard does.

“Why?” you ask, exhaling the word more than speaking it, your tone halfway between exhaustion and annoyance. You take another bite of the chocolate, letting it melt lazily on your tongue like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“A little daddy’s boy soirée or something,” Aemond mutters with a shrug. He’s got that look again, the one he always wears when he talks about this shit—a mix of disdain and quiet rebellion. He hates this scene, the pounding music that sounds like it’s on a loop, the suffocating crowds. But then he adds, “There’ll be some good fish,” and his eye meets yours. Just a flicker of understanding passes between you.

The Worm might be a total bastard, but he had a nose for opportunities, especially when it came to sales. The nightclub was his playground, his stage, and let’s not forget his little meth empire ticking along in the background. The man handed you a lifeline—or a leash, depending on how you looked at it—but saying no to him wasn’t exactly an option. He loved to remind you of that whenever he could.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting,” you mutter, a dry laugh escaping as you finish off the last of the bar, the taste bitter-sweet as it disappears.

Aemond reaches over and plucks the wrapper from your hand, his touch light but deliberate, watching you as you stand. Every muscle in your body protests, stiff and aching, but you ignore it, your bare feet hitting the cold floor with a shiver that shoots straight up your spine. You don’t pause, though. You make for the wardrobe, pulling open the smallest drawer to grab a bra and panties from the mess of clothes stuffed inside. Aemond doesn’t move, doesn’t look up. His fingers stay intertwined, his expression distant, like he’s lost somewhere else.

It’s only when your hand reaches for the door that his voice cuts through again, quiet but razor-sharp.

“I’ll be watching you,” he says, his tone warning but calm, his eye finally lifting to meet your retreating form. “So don’t do anything stupid.”

You let a sly grin slip out before moving on. It's not like you meant to fuck up, not tonight. Could be exhaustion or whatever. Your mess wasn't like Aemond's, not some epic cleanup. Well, at least not usually. You know his real fear is that you'll slit your wrists open and finish what you sometimes started after...incidents. That wasn't your intention tonight.

Your feet drag you to the bathroom, now always wide open thanks to that morning's drama. Inside, it's all spick and span, the sharp scent of bleach hitting you hard. He'd cleaned up, but some things just don't wash away. The door with its frame fucked, the mirror with a new hole in it, and that's it. Everything else, gone, like it usually is. Sometimes you wish you two were like this floor - a little soap and water could sort it out. Fix it up.

You try not to overthink, just strip down and jump into the shower. It's like your second home, scrubbing until your skin's raw. Careful not to drench those bandages he wrapped around your wrist. Eyes shut, you let the water wash you off, even if it's just skin deep.

Drying off and slipping into your undies and bra, you pause for a sec. Just taking a breath before heading back to the bedroom. From the doorway, you spot Aemond in front of the mirror, the little pots of black and white paint open, brush at the ready. His hair's less wet, those heavy black boots already on his feet, leather jacket slung over his shoulders, no shirt beneath. He turns, eyes sweeping over you, unabashed. Head cocked to the side for a moment.

"Help me with this." It's not a request, it's a command, part of the routine.

You don't think twice before stepping up, and neither does he. Aemond slides down in the chair, legs spreading wider, an open invite. You take it, hands on his shoulders for balance, swinging a leg over to sit on him. His hands lock onto your waist, holding you steady.

"Want something special tonight?" you ask, leaning down for one of the black eyeliner pencils.

Aemond's gaze travels your body again, you sitting there like he's your personal, ragged throne. His eyes crawl back up to yours, meeting them dead on. Yeah, he wants something special, but it's not about the paint or the lines on his face.

"Just the usual," Aemond says, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours, pupils blown wide.

You nod, leaning in to start sketching the lines on his face with the precision of someone who's done this dance before. When Aemond does it himself, it's all over the place, but you manage to make it look halfway decent. Not that it's supposed to be pretty; it's more about the vibe. With the eyeliner, you draw from his eyebrows down to his nose, stopping at the tip, then circle around his eye, connecting back to the other brow. It's rough, forming something like a triangle - shapes blurred and edgy. Moving to the other side, his eyes track you, locked on as your face scrunches in focus.

"You know I wanted to kill you, don't you?" Aemond mutters, pulling your gaze to him for a split second before you both return to the task at hand.

He did want to, no question about it. There was that moment when he saw your eyes close, your body go limp on the floor, and he thought, "This is it." But then he stopped. He didn't regret it; he was fucking glad he did.

"You didn’t." That's all you manage, a whisper, the only reply you've got.

You've thought he might end you, on some other nights, on those dark moments when the beast in him roared to get out because of some shit you pulled - intentional or not. But intentions? They're meaningless here. Not yours, not his, even if his was to squeeze the life out of you.

Aemond just stared, maybe with a hint of appreciation or some twisted form of affection. He couldn't tell if he'd fucked up your head, if he'd made you blind to his true nature, the chaos he brought into your life. He saw himself as a plague, infecting everything he touched, and he reveled in it, in you.

"I should take you to the beach sometime." Aemond's voice was low, almost a whisper, and you couldn't help but smile a bit. He'd mentioned it before, but it always felt like a fantasy.

He loathes the beach, despises the sun. The sand that grinds into knees, leaving them raw. Mum and dad never took you, and before that, the orphanage was all shades of gray. There was no sun there, and his pale skin seemed to thrive in the absence of it. You didn't miss what you'd never known.

"Yeah? What do you want to do there?" You play along with the dream, knowing it's probably never going to happen.

Your fingers grab a brush, dipping it into the white paint. You start painting his face, careful not to touch the dark lines around his eyes. His breath is heavier now, chest heaving in what seems like a thoughtful sigh.

"I don't know, just watch you swim." His reply is soft, his words hitting you like a gentle wave. "Some Sunday just watch you get pounded by the waves and some purple and blue in the sky. Being the only motherfuckers filling the place with smoke.”

A low chuckle escapes you as you shake your head, your fingers continuing their task with the white paint, transforming his face into something that feels more like a phantom than the man you know. You'd like that, at some point, to see him in such a scene. Perhaps perched on that motorcycle in some secluded spot, hiding from the sun, a cold beer in hand. His blue eyes would mirror the sea, his silver hair the sky, though you know he'd never let them be seen again. It's all just a daydream.

"Would you be there?" he asks, causing your hand to pause, the brush set aside.

The question strikes you as almost absurd. There are so many answers to it. He's pulling himself into the abyss, into a personal hell with all its promised torment, and you'd follow if only to hold his hand. Your answer is always yes, never no. He knows this, and still, he asks.

"I would be wherever you were," you confess in a whisper, meeting his gaze with unfiltered honesty, more than you'd wish to reveal, more than you could ever conceal.

His eyes shift from yours to your lips, perhaps searching for the taste of those words, or seeking some unclaimed piece of your skin to press them against. He doesn't speak, but the silence says he'd be with you too. You're like a persistent bit stuck in his teeth; no amount of licking or prodding or thinking he's had enough or moved you aside would ever truly dislodge you. Ever.

You pause, focusing back on the brush, cleaning off the white paint and dipping into black. The brush follows the eyeliner's path, shaping the design more distinctly. It's not your best work, but it's far from your worst, even if it's not art gallery material. But it'll do.

"It looks good," you murmur, more to yourself than to him, knowing better than to stroke his ego too much.

Aemond's eyes are locked on your lips, reading your words off them rather than through sound. His breath is warm, careful not to move and ruin your work. He's learned from experience you wouldn't like that.

"Yeah, it does." His gaze shifts up, impatience simmering under his skin. Being still isn't his forte.

With the final stroke, you complete the look. The white paint has dried, melding into his skin like a second layer. As you move to get up, his hands reluctantly slide off your waist, resting back in his lap. You take a moment to admire him - the corpse paint fitting him like a second skin, like he was born to wear it. The desire to have him take you, right there over the paints, until your drool becomes part of the artwork, is intense.

"Take a look," you say, motioning towards the mirror, keeping your darker thoughts at bay. If you let them out, there'd be no stopping.

Aemond looks into the mirror, not seeing himself but the mask he's donned. It's good, it's something. Just paint, toxic and transformative, embodying much of him yet not all. It's good, truly good.

You head to the closet, pulling out one of the usual dresses - same color, similar cuts, limited choices. Slipping it on, the fabric clings to your body, barely covering your thighs, the straps mingling with those of your bra. As you adjust it, Aemond turns, catching the motion of you smoothing it over your hips, his teeth catching his lower lip. You're a vision of sin, a gift to behold, stoking the fire in his veins and elsewhere.

You sit at the bed's foot, tugging on your black knee-high boots, similar to his but with higher heels. Aemond approaches just as you zip up, standing close enough that you nearly collide when you rise. His silent steps are always so damn stealthy. Your eyes lock, and without a word, he kneels before you, your gaze tracking him down, lips parting slightly.

Your heart races. He lifts your dress, bunching it at your waist, revealing you in just your panties. You anticipate warmth, but what you feel is cold. Opening your eyes, you see the pocket knife he's just stuck in your panties.

"You know how to use it," he murmurs, his breath teasingly close to where you're most sensitive, a slight dampness forming. "So use it if you need to."

He stands, eyes never leaving yours, fingers sliding the dress back down, covering you once more. It's like a cold splash of reality or a sharp stab of withdrawal; he steps away, and you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, regain some semblance of control. He moves to the table, grabs his keys, cigarettes, and lighter.

"I'm going to get the bike out of the garage. Don't delay." His tone is devoid of warmth as he heads for the door, leaving you in the center of the room.

You adjust your dress, feeling the pulse of anger and desire because that bastard always knows exactly what he's doing. The knife's tip, so provocatively close to your core, feels like a taunt. You hate him, more than when he breaks you apart. With that hatred, you move to where he was sitting and look at your reflection, noting the bruise on your jaw that you'll need to conceal with makeup. Not for the opinions of those at the club, you couldn't care less about them.

But, that's what you do. You cover his marks. And tonight, you'll do it again.

#modern aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond #x reader #ewan mitchell #fanfic #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #martin in the modern world #dead dove fic

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