#aemond one eye targraryen x reader

[greenlyren2]

Heavy Rains

Aemond Targraryen x Reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Prince Aemond Targaryen had always preferred the dark veil the night offered. When somber hours hide one from prying eyes and boastful mouths. The only one who holds you accountable - the pale moon, rolling lazily in the mirky sky above the blackwater.

It did not start out as a preference for the little prince. When he was young, sleep seemed to be a doleful lady, ready to escape him at every cost. Aemond foolishly tried to catch her every night, but she was skilled in the mazes of the dark hours. When the prince realized rolling around in his silk sheets was futile, he started visiting the library, the gardens, later in his life – Vhagar.

He found serenity in it, the quietness of the night seemed to have a presence of its own which followed him everywhere. A hazy figure that tugs at one’s heartstrings and renders the mind wistful.

However, Aemond’s fondness of the witch’s hours had started to dissipate. He was a husband now, of a few moons admittedly, but he was a dutiful spouse. The Mother had blessed him with a beautiful wife, one which he felt he did not deserve. The prince had accepted his faith as a second son, ready to be betrothed to some disagreeable woman.

But that was not the case, the gods bestowed him with a beauty so great, he could hardly believe. She was strong-willed, intelligent and honorable. The lady granted him a kindness the prince had never felt before. She had no expectations of him, no malignant gossip had poisoned her mind, she wanted to get to know him for herself, her heart on her sleeve.

It was an arduous process for the prince, to show the true colors of his soul, but he persisted. The hours after sunset became a respite for the couple. A sanctuary for their blooming love, a place where to roam the depths of the other person. Aemond found himself anticipating their time together more every day. Where he would drown himself in his books and his lady wife would embroider or paint.

He would often marvel at her poise, follow her skillful fingers as they thread along with his good eye. Remember the patterns of her breathing, watch as her face would scrunch up ever so slightly in concentration. Where her eyebrows would meet in confusion when she wouldn’t get something right from the first time.

It was a haven, in which where few words were spoken at first. But as the moons grew warmer, their talks blossomed. It started with formalities, the continuation of the courting process. Family histories turned into objects of ire and desire. As Aemond would remember all the things his lady favorited – the blue hue of the Forget-me-nots in the Keep’s gardens, the melody of her favorite tune, the end of her favorite story.

As his lady started including dragons in her embroidery pieces, and listening to the afflictions of her husband. He was hard to open up at first, she admits. But with time, with gentle care, steadily the prince would tell her of his ancestors, of his colossal dragon, of his mother and sister.

Though, there was one thing he seemed unbent on, the gnawing insecurity which ruined his countenance, at least that’s how the prince thought of it. In his lady’s opinion it was a striking mystery which allured her to the depths of her being.

The center of many a story, where most of the time the prince is a cruel perpetrator of awful violence, the jewel set behind a wall of leather, the patch and the scar that painted the fair face of Aemond Targaryen. It was a forbidden subject, one guarded so well its mere existence seemed unreal at times. His lady wife understood, with time, he’d tell, she would often think.

It was now that Aemond would start to hate the fast feet of the dark lady of the night. How swiftly she would pull the strings of late hours, and steal his precious time with his lady. Buried in obligations and documents, the prince would wane away in his chancery. Locked away from the joy of being with his wife.

Unfortunately, now was one of those nights. Aemonds’s hopes of being with his lady faded away as he traversed the dark corridors of the Red Keep. The prince realized he was right as he opened the dark mahogany doors of their chamber. All candles put out, a soft blue hue painting the room. The white linen curtains dancing with the gentle summer breeze as their partner, the faint smell of lavender lingering in the air.

His heart sang and twisted as he saw her, sprawled out gently on the bed. Hair laid out as a maze of tree roots on the satin pillow, light sleeping gown alluding to the beauty of her body. An opened book next to her – a futile attempt to pass the time until Aemond would come back. She was the picture of sublimity in his eyes, the Maiden could only envy her. She made his blood run hot and mind turn blank.

The prince’s thoughts were harshly interrupted by a rumble of thunder from outside. Realizing he was still at the front door, he gently closed it and went to the terrace. A light rain had started washing away the stuffy summer air. The prince’s hands found purchase on the delicate marble parapet. Aemond’s eye scorched the planes of King’s Landing, seeming to be lost in thought. If it was day time, he could see Vhagar from here in the outskirts of the city.

Aemond disliked weather like this, and in the deep belly of this point at night. It was bound to conjure up vexatious thoughts. As his good eye found the top of a building to lose his gaze in, his mind roared. In times like this, confusing the sound of rain droplets with the ones of blood was easy. He felt a mere boy of thirteen once again, grotesquely crouched down on the floor at Driftmark, clutching at his lost eye, eardrums burning with screams. Hearing the delicate drops of his blood hit the floor.

Thunder soared as Aemond gripped the parapet harder, hair slick with rain water and jerkin wet. His eye fell heavy as his scar felt it might open raw every moment. White hot rage ran through his veins as a furious thunderbolt. Vhagar’s infernal roar could be heard echoing in the mirky sky. This state of borderline frenzy was an endless loop of fury which he often found himself in.

Suddenly a pair of delicate arms disturbed the prince’s trance as they rested around his waist.

“It is only me, my prince.” A melodious voice echoed in his ears.

Aemond fought with everything not to tremble in his wife’s grasp, ferociously shutting his eye, not having the courage to face her.

“You will get cold out here, my lady. I couldn’t bear it If you were to fall sick on my behalf.” The prince tried to persuade her, not wanting to drag her into the depths of his ruinous mind.

Her grasp on him became harder, as the lady rest her forehead on the wet leather on Aemond’s back. A direct act of her strong volition, she knew the battles her husband fought alone – out in the open and in his head. She could be by his side in this one, she would never abandon him.

“As will you, Aemond.” She felt him tremble in her grip.

“I never liked storms as well, especially as a child. I would hide under my mother’s covers as the thunder would rage outside.” She gave out a slight huff, trying to put him at ease.

At moments like this he would always shut her off. Though she never persisted, it never irked her. His lady was more than content to sit in silence, be there for him as much as he allowed her.

Both stood as the wind blew and the sky wept over them for some time. Aemond carefully turned around as he gently grasped the forearms of his lady wife and witnessed her dejected countenance. The prince despised himself for making her feel this way. Her wet hair sticking to her forehead as her lashes glistened with rain drops.

“How do you think I lost my eye?” Aemond suddenly yelped out, her name falling with the preciseness of a prayer from his lips. It was time he thought, to be done with this nightmare and ask her. He knew how the commonfolk viewed him – a twisted monster from tales which mothers used to scare their children. He knew the ladies in the court were terrified of him. Most importantly, he knew all too well what he thought of himself.

“What me and the others think of you is of no substance, Aemond. What matters is what happened, and only you can tell me that.” She said sorrowfully, beyond pained to see her husband this way.  

She reached a delicate hand to caress his face, thumb following the path of the darkened scar. Her gaze falling from his eye, to his nose and finally his lips.

“What I think is that you’re beautiful, and I pay no attention to children’s tales. I know you for who you are. You are my valiant husband, with piercing evidence for the greatness of his dragon.”

Aemond trembled beneath the vigour of his wife’s words. His face calmed, as he went to remove his eye patch. Her lips fell with admiration as he revealed himself to her.

In the socket of his right eye lay a magnificent sapphire, worthy of a prince. The blue of the stone shines as a pearl would at the bottom of the blackwater. A star in the sky.

Her other hand clasped around his face and she utters as she holds him lovingly “You are as if carved from the Gods of Old Valyria, my love. You are astonishing.”

Aemond’s heart soared as he fully opened himself to her, every crevice and every part of his persona was bared out for her to witness.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The prince moved to kiss his wife passionately, enveloping her in all his care. His lips met her with a feverishness that made the cold night light with warmth. Her hand moved to his silky moonlit locks and tugged there, as she gave all of herself to him. Aemond caressed her soft cheek as he poured all the love he held for her.

Breaking their embrace in a breathless mess, the prince rested his forehead on hers.

“I love you, my lady.” The prince whispered only for his wife and the rain to hear.

She gave him a chaste kiss in response.

“We could make you new memories. Fond ones.” The prince said hastily to his wife, eager to please her.

The rest of the night was spent on the back of Vhagar, traversing the night skies and the summer rain soaked their clothes, laughs echoing in the water beneath.