#aemond needs a vacation rip

[just-some-random-blogger]

may i request for somewhat of a aemond x wife!reader crackfic? i just cant get the thought of aemond's wife suddenly going "if you really love me, catch me" and she just randomly jumps off a window or cliff or smth, knowing fairly well how sturdy she is and that she'll survive with a few broken bones max. but aemond doesn't know that and so he prince-charming-style-on-a-dragon saves the stupid lump that is the love of his life and goes "i do not appreciate these tests to measure my loyalty and love for you. first the question of whether or not i would love you as a worm. and now this stunt? what's next? make me choose between you or something very absurd?" "now that's an idea."

The Test Of Love

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: There is a saying that people do crazy things for those they love... Aemond has come to terms with the fact you're simply crazy.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, mom!reader, exasperated!aemond, 'dear gods its genetic' -aemond, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc."

A/N: THIS IS SO SPECIAL BECAUSE THIS IS MY FIRST AEMOND REQ HIHIHHHIHIHI HI NONNIE TYSM FOR THIS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT NONNIE MERRY CHRISTMAS ps i didnt name the child cos it seemed like too much responsibility nvm i felt bad for keeping him nameless also i used a translator for the high valyrian dont come for me if its wrong i like to imagine this gif is the moment aemond realized his wife is crazy and he's like 'aw shit' HAHAHHA Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

"Kepa, kepa!" a small voice calls, alerting Aemond, who had been in his study, going through some papers.

Aemond turns to the little boy, eye roving over his wide violet eyes and short, stubby legs, deciding in that moment, he was not injured or harmed.

"What is it, my love?" Aemond asks in High Valyrian. He straightens from his seat, lips curving into a soft smile as his son makes it to his side.

Aemond brings him to his lap. He brushes Aurion's hair back with one hand while the other is secured around the side of his soft belly.

"Mother is-"

The sound of his father humming cuts Aurion off. Aemond's brow quirks as he looks at his child.

Aurion sighs, placing his tiny hand on his tiny face, correcting himself, "muña."

"Kessa, muña," Aemond nods in confirmation, continuing in High Valyrian, "very good, my boy. What about mother? Is she calling for me?"

"Muña ivestretan nyke..." the boy starts as he racks his head, thinking of the next words to say.

Aemond hums, translating his Aurion's words, word per word, "mother told you..."

"Naejot ivestragon ao..."

"To tell you," Aemond trails off.

"...bona ziry's jumping hen se jimy."

"..."

Aurion turns to his father, watching his kepa's eye widen at the information he relayed. Aurion blows air out of his lips, making buzzing sounds as he shifts in his father's lap.

Aemond is tense as his Aurion places his clammy hands on his father's cheeks.

"Say that again, boy," Aemond knits his brows.

"Muña--"

"In common tongue."

Aurion stands on his father's lap, stroking his kepa's long hair as he mumbled, "she said she was going to jump out the window, papa."

Aemond grabs his son's hand, making the child draw his eyes upon his father's worried one.

Aurion is indifferent as he continues, "she told me you were going to catch her before she f-"

A loud fit of laughs rip through the room when Aemond grabs Aurion and practically teleports outside, exactly where their bedroom window would be.

He didn't need to see to know you were there, as there were a bunch of worried servants outside, looking up with worried faced, making him worry ever more.

Aemond does not miss how one of them says, 'thank the gods the prince is here.'

Aemond drops his giggling son as he cranes his neck up.

I break into a wide smile and look over my shoulder when I hear my name being barked out, "hello, my love!"

Aemond's breath is extremely taxed as he walks beneath the ledge I was standing on, "GET INSIDE RIGHT NOW!"

I roll my eyes, not even turning to the open window as I opted to hammer on the stone wall before me. It was a bit difficult, seeing as my breast was pressed against the surface, as I did not have much room to walk on. Still, I pressed on so I could hang the twig figure my son made in a place it would get the attention it deserved, "I'm busy."

Aemond clenches his jaw, arms going out to the side in fear, ready to catch, if ever his extremely poor in decision making wife falls.

Aemond calls my name out again, more worried, less threatening.

I release a sigh and hang my child's creation on the nail, "Aurion, what did you tell your father? He's worried sick."

"That you were going to jump," the princeling plainly, making the servants around him exclaim in worry and horror.

I furrow my brows and snap my head Aurion, "that's not what-"

Alas, I do not get to finish, as my quick movements make my feet slip. I helplessly descend from the height. I grip the hammer tightly, not wanting it to crash on my husband's head.

With a huff and a heave, I find myself in Aemond's arms, Aemond, who is incredibly relieved and livid all at once.

"Hello, my lo-"

"You told him you were going to jump?!" Aemond quips, eye narrowing.

I raise a brow, throwing my arm around his shoulders, discarding the hammer off to the side with a loud thud, "I did not. I told him that if I fell, you would catch me."

Aemond's nostrils flair as he turns to look at his son, barking out his name impatiently, "what is the meaning of this?!"

Aurion shrugs, "I wanted to see mama jump."

Aemond eye twitches.

I scold him for this, but Aurion is all but affected by it. I turn to my husband and snort, kissing him quickly on the lips before jumping out of his arm. Aemond is frozen in his spot.

I beckon my son over. When he does, I point a finger at him, "what did I tell you about distorting the truth?"

Aurion sucks in his lips as he rolls back and forth on his heels. He avoids the question by saying, "you jumped anyway!"

"She did not jump, she fell," Aemond quips, stern expression moving from Aurion to me.

I knit my brows at him, "I chose to fall, because I knew you would catch me."

Aemond feels his false eye rattle in skull as he words darkly, "chose?"

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes, "I used to jump down from trees much higher than this as a child, Aemond."

"Mmm, right!" Aemond says tightly, "and you landed on a field of grass, not cold, hard, concrete!"

I shake my head at his words, "what does it matter? All this proves is that I was right."

"Right with madness?!" Aemond raises a hand, "right with what?!"

"That you would save me no matter what." I raise my chin when I say this.

Aemond is practically vibrating in anger, his stomach wound tightly with worry. It all evaporates when a hand goes to his face.

I smile at Aemond, rubbing the scar on his cheek.

He sighs, utterly defeated. He opts to lean into the affectionate touch.

I utter causally, "this reminds me of the time I jumped off Vhagar."

"YOU JUMPED OFF VHAGAR," Aurion exclaims with excitement and wonder

Aemond grabs my wrist as he pulls away, "I still have nightmares of it."

"Oh, please, you told me it was okay for me to do it."

"I DIDN'T ACTUALLY THINK YOU'D DO IT!"

I huff, pulling my hand away, "that was your mistake."

"I WANT TO JUMP OFF VHAGAR!" Aurion calls, jumping up and down.

"NO!" Aemond barks, pointing a finger between the two of us, "no one will ever jump off anything ever again!"

Aemond grunts where I laugh when Aurion dashes over to him. The boy crashes against his leg; the man reels back slightly. I snort when my husband looks away, knowing he was not strong enough to behold the puppy dog eyes that was surely being thrown at him.

"Pleaaaassseeee, kepa!" Aurion whines, "I'll promise I'll study High Valyrian even harder!"

Aemond scoffs, then peers down, eye narrowed, "say that in High Valyrian then."

Aurion scrunches his face in thought. He begins to turn a shade of scarlet. He slams his head onto his papa's thigh, "no fair..."

Aemond huffs, crouching down, gathering the boy into his arms, "I will not hear of this nonsense again, child."

"Kepaaaaaaa!"

"Enough," Aemond dismisses, turning to me. He reaches his hand out and I gladly take it. He sighs as he pulls me close, placing a kiss on my temple. When I lean into him, he shuts his eye and mutters, "kepa will not know what to do if anything ever happens to you and muña."

Our son makes a sound in protest, "but you will catch me if I fall, just like mama!"

I smile at the sentiment, reaching out to my child's cheek.

Aemond turns to his son, leaning his forehead onto his, "do me a favor and not follow into your mama's footsteps."

I snort, pulling away from Aemond.

"But mama's fun!" the boy pouts, "you're not."

Aemond presses his lips into a line.

I break into a fit of giggles, stopping in my tracks to bend over in amusement. Aemond is snorts and swiftly grabs me, cutting my laughter off. I am, without warning, manhandled over his shoulder. I shriek when my stomach is folds over him. I grab onto his back without much else left to do.

Hearing my sons giggles makes chuckles find their way out of my lips again.

"Spank your muña's bottom," Aemond commands. My son does not hesitate.

"Aemond!"

"You have been naughty," he quips, beginning to walk off, "and deserve every bit of punishment I will inflict on you tonight."

I am silenced by his words.

"Papa no!" Aurion exclaims, "mama's a good girl."

I bite my lips at the defense of my child.

"Mmm," Aemond hums, "we'll see about that."

[sapphire-writes]

Brother I’m on vacation in the mountains in the middle of fuckall nowhere so my service is spotty and I’m not using my phone much

And I open tumblr to confirmed misogynist Aemond (duh) and Rhaenyra being in lesbians with SOMEONE OTHER THAN ALICENT

I need my usual rundown. Is patriarchal pookie in more than 2 minutes of the episode?

-YFNW

bestie you know I got you!!

here are Jo’s Main Takeaways:

Aemond is IN it and he’s evil and a meanie pie to both mommy and Egg

Daemon is being daemon and I hate that man

Rhaenyra is KISSING MYSARIA

Seasmoke claimed Addam YALLLL

Rhaena is totally gonna claim sheepsteeler (rip nettles)

Small folk threw fish at alicent and she got a matching wound for her former lesbian lover

that’s all I remember tbh!

oh and Daeron mention again and Otto is on his way BACK

[horizon-verizon]

Aemond who was described as "fierce from birth" , who also called his sister a whore in the day his father died , shown sociopathic tendencies from his childhood , these sociopathic tendencies have developed much worse in his adulthood to the point he was able to commit heinous crimes like genocide without a single fuck in the world. And all the sources in the book have similar characterization of Aemond , so that's means that his personality and his actions were all on display for everyone to witness it . But according to Ryan the historians are too biased and they've properly misunderstood everything.

So Aemond was turned into a poor mew mew in the show that didn't mean it , that's makes me wonder actually if Ryan will ever adopted Maegor's reign, would he make Maegor this big softie that everyone in westros misunderstood? All of Maegor's cruel actions are nothing but propaganda from Jaehaerys to destroy the reputation of Maegor the softie ?

No anon, Ryan would have Visenya and Maegor have a really close relationship where Visenya is jealous of her sister Rhaenys for having all of Aegon’s love and affection.

Visenya plots against Aenys I from the beginning because of that vendetta against Rhaenys, and people love Visenya because she is the “official” wife, or the “first”/”prime” wife in Aegon’s “harem”. 

Because Valyrians had full, stratified harems like you’d imagine from the Ottoman empire, you see. The canon historians don’t have enough information to tell us about Valyrian culture, but this is definitely what existed in Valyria.

But she’s actually being honorable; she only usurped Aenys (because it’s not Aegon, Aenys I’s son, who gets usurped, it’s Aenys himself this time, this is in canon you see) and we find out her “true” intentions in episode 4 (while in episode 2 we saw her looking like she wanted to stab Rhaenys and never mentions the succession and the realm’s “well being” at all).

So she forces/manipulates Maegor into marrying all the women he marries, even the Black Brides of Jeyne Westerling, Elinor Costayne, and his niece Rhaena Targaryen. She despises Tyanna, but finds her magic useful and tries to confiscate her potions, etc. for herself on some pretext.

Except Tyanna of the Tower is the only woman he ever loved, you see, because she was his only real choice. Ryan calls Tyanna Maegor’s “mail-order-bride” and “only true lover” in one interview and another. Her Lyseni pussy puts Maegor into a tizzy, from all her “training”. People online also call her a mail order bride and says this proves how evil the Targs are for being white people taking advantage of poor Essosi (Essos is a place of only vacation-locations) peoples for self gratification.

Tyanna, in order to gain back power and make sure his attention is always on her, poisons all of Maegor’s other wives and botches their pregnancies. Maegor, in order to eliminate this threat to his family, orders her execution, and he tears up or cries as he turns away from her for the last time. (The “rumor” of her heart being ripped out is just her personal writings that some maester re-recorded inaccurately, and then another maester [because some parts were too deteriorated to read] wrote down as if her writing Maegor “ripped her heart out” was literal instead of her complaining about him having sex with other women.)

Alyssa Velayron cheats on Aenys with Rogar specifically because Aenys is a little baby bitch boy and Rogar was a man who “did what needed to be done”, even when he tried to usurp Jahaerys for Aerea (Rhaena’s daughter by Aegon “the Uncrowned”). She enlists his help to overtake Maegor (pussy power enslaves men), and Visenya (who apparently survives her canon death and stays the puppet of her son). In all this while, Rhaena lives in the Keep with the other poor brides and abuses Tyanna or dismisses Tyanna’s low birth. Her nose is always up, you see.

Maegor dies when Elinor Costayne pushes him into the Iron Throne, finally drudging up the muster to address him killing her husband while he burned down the holy Sept. Because, you know, he did that and her husband was one of those that were burned alive while praying. *Tear.

[persephonerinyes]

The ending 🥵🥵🥵

If Aemond hadn't run away when he visited her he would have known that she never intended to mock him 😤

However, it seemed like he needed a vacation no matter what and he got some bro time in.

RIP Lucerys. Karma is a novice.

I just know that after he got back from Storm's End he immediately went to her and started railing her while she absolved him of his sin 😈❤️

Rev. 22:20 - Chapter Five: Eat You Alive

Warnings: Mentions of death, male masturbation, canon typical violence, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Aemond runs away from his problems, only to find they're right where he left them when he returns.

Main series masterlist.

Author's note: I do not have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications to be updated when I post a fic. Community labels are for cops.

Aemond strides through the winding streets of King’s Landing, hood pulled firmly over his head, back towards the Red Keep. Despite the chill that lingers in the night air, his blood runs hotly through his veins, making his skin feel flushed.

He can still feel the press of her lips against his, his skin tingles with the memory of it. He is certain he can see the rumpling of the material of his cloak where she’d clutched desperately at the front of it, but it is likely no more than his imagination, clinging to the feeling in the same way he convinces himself the softness of her face is still beneath his fingers. He rubs his fingertips together, his pulse racing at the fact he’d caressed her jaw with those same digits just moments ago.

Shaking his head in an attempt to erase the thought, he shuts himself in his chambers. It is no use fantasising any more. She is no better than a common harlot, given over to the Faith because she is no longer worth anything to her family. Worse still, she wishes to use her vantage point as Septa of his sister’s children to torment him for his lustful indiscretions.

Silently, he curses his treacherous heart and mind. Despite all of this, he still yearns for her. He has been painfully hard from the moment he saw her undressing for bed. He hopes relieving the tension will bring him peace.

The maidservant he summons to his bedchamber is a slight, pretty little thing. He has made use of her before. She is always discrete, and diligent in ensuring she drinks moon tea afterwards. However, this time as he thrusts inside of her, her tight wetness provides little comfort. Where he seeks the novice’s scent of camphor and cloves, he is met with the faint scent of ash - likely from her having swept his fireplace earlier. Her breathy moans do not match the cadence of the way the novice had sighed softly into his mouth as her tongue had moved against his own.

It’s unsatisfying. Even when he reaches his peak, spilling himself across the maidservant’s thighs, the relief he feels is miniscule, as though he has half heartedly scratched an itch. Nothing will compare now.

He groans in frustration, climbing off of the bed and throwing her dress back towards her.

“Get out,” he hisses, not bothering to turn and look as she hurriedly dresses and rushes from the room.

He ought to have strangled that pretty little novice when he had the chance. Instead, she will reside beneath the same roof as him, making a mockery of him, forcing him to remember the humiliating swiftness with which he had allowed himself to be enamoured by her - to still be enamoured by her.

Aemond cannot bear it. He decides he won’t ask his grandfather for permission to go to Oldtown to be with his younger brother, he will simply tell him. If putting distance between himself and the object of his obsession is what he needs to do in order to snuff out the flames she ignites within him then nothing will stand in his way.

He sends a raven to Daeron, informing him of his imminent arrival, before turning in for the night.

His sleep is restless, plagued by dreams of his lips against hers, but when he pulls away he is greeted by a mirror and it is only himself he sees, the marred flesh of his scarred left eye socket reflected back at him, ruined and empty.

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

Awakening early, Aemond dresses swiftly, instructing his chambermaids to pack his belongings and have them sent on to Oldtown. He packs lightly himself for what he will need in the meantime and what he can manage to carry on Vhagar’s back, before donning his riding coat. He has no intention of coming back once he has sought out his grandfather.

Also an early riser, he finds Otto already in his study, quill in hand as he scribbles across a length of parchment.

The older man looks up as Aemond enters, raising his eyebrows slightly in question at his grandson’s appearance.

Before he has a chance to query it, Aemond speaks. “I am going to Oldtown to be with Daeron. I do not know when I will return.”

Otto draws in a breath, placing his quill down upon the parchment before leaning back in his chair. “Do you think that is wise?”

“I am not needed here,” Aemond says cooly. “I wish to see my younger brother.”

“Your father’s health worsens by the day. Your mother needs you.”

Aemond quirks his lips, huffing through his nose. “I am well aware of who you and Mother intend to crown once Viserys is dead,” he snaps, “I do not need to be here for that.”

He notices his grandfather bristle. Without giving him time to say anything further, he walks quickly towards the door, but a sudden pang of guilt squeezes tightly at his heart, causing him to look back once more. “Look after them both, please,” he says softly, referring to Alicent and Helaena.

Otto simply nods, lifting his quill and dipping it into the ink pot, beginning to write again.

On dragonback is the only place where Aemond’s mind ever feels truly clear. It is a full day’s flight on Vhagar from King’s Landing to Oldtown, and the meditative peace is blissful for Aemond, focusing only on the whip of the wind around him, and directing his dragon’s movements with slight tugs of her reins.

It is nightfall by the time Aemond finds somewhere suitable to leave Vhagar and makes his way to where Daeron currently resides.

He receives a warm welcome, despite the short notice of his arrival and the brothers settle down to share roasted venison and fine red wine from Arbor.

The conversation is kept light, the two exchanging pleasantries, as Daeron enquires about the wellbeing of their mother and siblings, and Aemond tells him about how quickly Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are growing up, as well as the rapidity with which their father is deteriorating.

“So, how are your studies going?” Aemond asks, fingers plucking absentmindedly at the stem of his wine goblet.

“I think we have exhausted the farcical pleasantries, brother,” Daeron says with a wry smile, placing his fork upon his plate. “Tell me why you are really here.”

Aemond scoffs derisively. “To see you, of course. Why would I have an ulterior motive?”

“Because you are running away from something,” he replies with a raise of his eyebrow, “tell me I am wrong.”

“I do not run away from anything,” Aemond mutters darkly, his grip tightening around his goblet as he feels himself growing hot with anger. “I claimed the largest dragon in the world when I was a child. I am not a coward.”

“And yet here you are,” Daeron quips with a light shrug.

“You came here to study, did you not?” Aemond asks defensively. “Why can I not do the same? I have exhausted the Red Keep’s library.”

“I could send you books,” his younger brother muses, narrowing his eyes. “You are not here because you have run out of things to read. So tell me. Is it a woman?”

“Stop it,” Aemond glowers.

Daeron simply sits back, sipping his wine, lips turned upwards in a smug smile.

His brother is right and he hates him for it. He is running away from her, but he sees no other option.

They retire for the evening, and Aemond is grateful that Daeron does not pry further into the matter.

Life in Oldtown is peaceful. Daeron makes for a more interesting conversationalist than either Aegon or Helaena, and he feels spoiled for choice with the selection of reading material that the Citadel boasts.

The days he does not spend poring over books and scrolls, he flies on dragonback. The great, elderly bulk of Vhagar moves at a glacial pace through the skies, while Daeron speeds ahead, propelled by the sprightly wings of Tessarion.

It would be idyllic were it not for the fact that he cannot seem to stop thinking of his novice. A month slips by and he can still remember the slope of her delicate neck, the way the sunlight shone upon her hair, the curve of her hips and legs as she’d undressed, how warm her breath had been against his skin, the softness of her lips against his own.

He is frustrated that even hundreds of miles away he cannot seem to escape her. Hard as he resists it, he still finds himself fucking his fist to the thought of her each night, thinking about what could have happened if he had not have fled from her.

Would she moan wantonly as his flesh slaps hotly against hers, or whimper quietly into the crook of his as she tightens around him, his fingertips pressing bruises into the soft flesh of her thighs?

Repeatedly he has to remind himself that she is just toying with him, bored with her own forced servitude she is preying upon his lust for her, using it for her own advantage. To return home would be his ruin. He is certain she must reside within the Keep now, caring for Aegon and Helaena’s twins. If he goes back she will only seek to make his life miserable, and when he eventually crumbles and gives into her, she will humiliate him. He will not allow it.

Each week two ravens arrive, carrying letters for Daeron and Aemond from their mother, sending news of Helaena and the twins, and asking after their own wellbeing. Each week they diligently reply. As much as Aemond loathes to admit it, he misses King’s Landing, he misses his mother and sister. It is a sentiment that is apparently unshared by his younger brother. He is suited to life in Oldtown, he seems settled and happy here, far more relaxed than he ever was in the capital.

It is three days before they are due to receive their weekly letters when a singular raven arrives, carrying a small roll of parchment addressed to Aemond.

He sits at the dining hall table, breaking his fast with Daeron when the maester deposits the message on the table next to him, before bowing his head and taking his leave.

Aemond picks it up and unfurls it between his thumbs, his breath catching in his throat and his eye widening slightly as a cold wave of dread washes over him.

Where his mother’s handwriting is usually careful, neat, precise, it appears rushed, the two words scrawled in a state of anxiety.

Come home.

“What is it?” Daeron asks, pushing his plate away and eyeing Aemond with concern.

“Our father is dead,” Aemond says in a hushed tone, sliding the parchment across the table for his brother to look at it.

Daeron swallows thickly, nodding as he reads the message before hastily screwing it up and hiding it within his sleeve. “You need to leave today.”

“Will you come with me?” Aemond asks, anxiously rubbing his index fingers against his thumbs.

He shakes his head. “It would look too suspicious if I were to disappear suddenly. You know why mother wrote only to you. You know what she means to do.”

“Yes,” Aemond sighs, “and it is not me she means to crown.”

“I know, Aemond,” Daeron says sympathetically, leaning forward across the table. “Believe me, there is no one that understands your frustration better than I. But mother needs you. You know he will not make it easy for her.”

He has the right of it. He always has the right of it. It would anger Aemond if he did not admire Daeron’s wisdom so much.

“Then I suppose this is farewell.”

“Until we meet again, brother.”

It is nightfall when Aemond returns reluctantly to the Red Keep. The entirety of the castle has been locked down, with no one allowed in or out, and the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast are eerily quiet as he passes through them, his boots echoing loudly upon the flagstones with every step.

He can see light shining through the crack in the doors to Helaena’s apartments, and hushed voices inside. He pushes the doors open, met by the sight of Alicent and Helaena sat upon a settee, both of them turn to look at him with wide, grief stricken eyes.

Yet it is not them that hold his attention, it is her.

Every bit as beautiful as he’d remembered, only now she wears the seven colour corded belt around her waist, and a crystal pendant. She has become a septa, no longer his little novice, but still every bit the temptress he’d left behind months ago. Looking at her makes his pulse race. In the rush to get back in the wake of the news of Viserys’ passing, he had quite forgotten she would be here.

She kneels upon the floor, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera sit either side of her, babbling and playing with toys. They had gotten so big; they look like real, tiny, little people now.

His throat runs dry when he sees the familiar look in her eye as she gazes at him, it holds the same heat and intensity he recognises from the night they had kissed. He has to force himself to look away.

He is met by the soft, sad eyes of his mother, surging forward to tenderly cradle his forearms. “I am so glad to see you,” she says gently.

“And I you,” he responds tenderly, eye narrowing affectionately as his own fingers return the gesture, squeezing softly. “But I am tired from the journey, can plans wait until the morning?”

“Of course,” Alicent nods, stepping away. “Rest. We have locked Aegon in his chambers to prevent him from drowning any further in his cups, so there is nothing that can be done until tomorrow.”

Aemond bows his head solemnly in understanding, before backing away. “Goodnight, mother.”

He gives a nod towards Helaena, purposely avoiding looking in the direction of the twins, not wanting to see her, before walking back towards his own quarters.

From the moment he saw her he has been painfully hard, and he loathes himself for it. Tossing and turning in the sheets, he will not allow her the satisfaction of him pleasuring himself to the thought of her. Not that she would know, but he refuses to do it with her beneath the same roof as him.

He wishes he had ignored his mother’s letter and stayed in Oldtown with Daeron. Not only does he have to navigate the coronation of his wastrel of an older brother, he now has to cope with living alongside the septa he has spent the last half a year lusting after.

Realising sleep will not find him, he throws the covers back, getting out of bed and putting his eyepatch, undershirt and trousers back on before leaving his chambers, intending to go to the library. It has always been a source of comfort to him when his mind is troubled.

Immediately he spots her, padding barefoot along the corridor, dressed in only a cotton shift, her hair loose. Even in darkness she takes his breath away and he hesitates a moment, gathering himself, before allowing his anger to guide his actions.

He lurches after her, gripping her arm and pulling her to him. “What are you doing skulking about the Keep at this hour?” He whispers furiously.

She regards him impassively, surprising him when she does not try to wrench free of his grasp. “I was attending to my duties, checking on the children.”

Her voice causes his stones to tighten. It has been so long since he has heard her speak. Aemond releases her, as though her skin has scalded him and turns to walk away. He cannot be this close to her.

“Why do you shun me?” She asks, causing him to pause. “We both have had things taken from us.”

“We share nothing in common,” Aemond says irritably. “I lost my eye because I dared to claim the largest dragon in the world. You lost your freedom because of your own depravity.”

“I dared to pursue what made me happy, just as you did,” she replies defiantly.

“You are a whore,” he spits, rounding on her.

“And you are a craven,” she juts out her chin with a smirk. “Running away because you–”

She gasps, her words cut off, as Aemond lunges towards her, gripping her throat forcefully, using the leverage to back her into his chambers, before kicking the door closed. Fury guides his movements, he wants to hurt her, make her realise she must never disrespect a Targaryen Prince so brazenly.

“How dare you speak to me like that, you insolent little bitch,” he snarls, shaking her slightly, “I have half a mind to strangle the life from you.”

Her gaze is unflinching as she stares up at him, there is no fear in her eyes. He sees desire dancing within their depths.

His eye softens, his grip on her throat loosening as he feels his resolve crumble, and then his mouth is upon hers, lips moving with greedy haste.

He groans appreciatively as he feels her hands tighten on the front of his shirt, much like they had on his cloak all those months ago. The hand not around her neck moves into her hair, gripping it tightly, directing her movements as their tongues writhe together.

Her hair is every bit as soft as he had imagined it would be, though she smells different. Long gone is the scent of the incense burned in the Sept. Now her aroma is laced faintly with lavender oil, though it clings to her flesh in a way that is unmistakably her. Aemond feels as though he is finally slaking his thirst after months without water.

Pushing her backwards, she falls softly onto the mattress, and he climbs over her, caging her in with his body. Her heavy breaths against his neck cause him to shudder, and he wastes no time in pushing her shift above her hips and freeing his cock.

This isn’t how he imagined their first time would be. He wanted to take his time with her, to drink in the sight of her naked flesh, savour each feeling. Yet when he imagined his first time with her, his father was not dead, it was not the eve of his brother’s coronation and he had not just throttled her.

In this moment he is driven purely by animalistic need, and to his delight she does not seem to mind.

Aemond spits into his palm, smearing the moisture through her folds, his cock aching as it twitches when he feels how wet with arousal she already is. He strokes the combined fluids over the length of himself, before driving forwards forcefully into her.

He is met with resistance, and the squeeze of her around him causes him to screw his eye shut, his jaw going slack at the feel of her tight, wet heat. She moans with unrestrained lewdness as he bottoms out inside of her, and he takes a moment to look at her, spread out beneath him, hair in disarray around her head, lips glossy and slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust.

Snarling, losing all semblance of control, he snaps his hips against hers, setting an unforgiving pace.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you fucking wanted?” He grits out, one hand grabbing her hip, the other gripping her chin to keep her focus on him. “Answer me!”

“Y-yes!” She cries out, legs wrapping around his waist, drawing him in deeper, making him feel light headed.

In all of his wildest fantasies she has never felt this good. It is not possible to imagine a sensation that is such exquisite torture. He would have willingly crawled back from Oldtown if only to experience this.

His skin is damp with perspiration, his brow furrowed with exertion as the bed creaks with the intensity of his movements. A lick of white hot heat tickles at his lower spine as he feels her hips bucking in time with his, chasing her own pleasure.

“Whore,” he murmurs hatefully, his hand from her chin back to her throat, squeezing the sides.

Her inner walls flutter around him, her moans and whimpers increasing in both pitch and frequency until he feels her tense up suddenly before tightening around him with a cry, her back arching with the force of it.

His own thrusts become sloppy, the ache inside him intensifying until the world goes black and he pushes hard inside of her one final time, spilling himself with a strangled grunt.

Collapsing beside her, he lays there for a moment in silence, the only sounds in the room are their combined heavy breathing.

A heaviness settles in Aemond’s chest, sullen regret weighing upon him. “So, who will you tell about this?”

“What do you mean?” She asks, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him.

“You have had this planned all along, to settle yourself as my sister’s children’s septa and make a mockery of me for your own amusement, and I have given in to you,” he says quietly, fingers rubbing together anxiously.

“Aemond, I did not know I was to be placed here,” she tells him with sincerity.

His expression softens, eye widening slightly as he turns to look at her. “You did not?”

“No. Novices are not told of their placement until their training is finished. It is to prevent us from being distracted away from our studies by thoughts of where we will end up. By the time I found out you had already left King’s Landing.”

Aemond furrows his brow in confusion. “Then why? Why did you do this?”

She huffs a soft laugh. “Because I wanted to. Do you not think it is exciting? Perhaps one day I will be the septa for your own children when you are married for political gain, and you can seek me out away from prying eyes and continue to have your way with me.”

His heart begins to race again, despite the fact it had only just begun to slow from having rutted mercilessly into her. The thought does excite him, depraved as it is. He has spent months lusting after her, to finally be able to have her whenever he wants her is enormously gratifying.

“You will be my ruin,” he says, voice filled with a playful, affectionate warmth.

“And your salvation,” she purrs with a mischievous smile. “I mean it, Aemond, you and I are alike. The only difference is I do not have the opportunity for revenge, but you do.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, rolling to face her.

Her fingers trace lightly over the scar on his left cheek and the leather of his eyepatch. “You are a Targaryen Prince,” she tells him, “you have the means to seek atonement for what you have lost, and I shall ensure that you do.”

It is then that he sees her fully for the first time. A reflection of his own darkest thoughts and desires. It both excites and terrifies him. His salvation and his damnation.

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.