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yesimwriting · 4 months

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Noble Only in Blood

A/n house of the dragon rewatch era <3

Summary: There are very few things you wouldn't do in order to save your brother.

Warnings: me writing for a character for the first time, targaryen incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter), reader is described as not looking like her brothers and having valyrian features, forced marriage, slight miscommunication trope (i know,, bare with me😭)

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In times of crisis, it is instinctual to hold onto what is dear. If one has reason to believe that a thief has crossed their path, it is logical for them to reach into their purses and pockets, to make sure that what they care for most is still safe. That same impulse is what guides your hand forward, your fingers curling around Lucerys's shoulder.

After a breath, you realize that Luke has allowed himself to shuffle back, a subtle acceptance of your attempt to comfort him. That startles you more than the sudden appearance of a familiar face. Luke's distaste for what he considers 'sisterly coddling' has grown steadily over these last few years, the threat of war only amplifying his desire to shed the last few layers of protection you're able to offer him.

"It's alright." The response borders on hollow, your voice ringing flat in your own ears. You press your lips together. So Aemond beat your family to Lord Borros. That's...That means very little in the grand scheme of things. You and your brother came here to present an offer, not to begin a war. "You are here as a messenger, not a warrior."

He nods once, eyes still trained on your uncle. Even though Luke's in front of you, his stiffness is reminiscent of a time in which a conflict with Aemond meant running to you, meant attempting to hide behind you until you could either tell him off or call for your mother.

Aemond takes a measured step forward. "Really? Is that what you're calling your attempts to steal my brother's throne?"

There's a muted sharpness in Aemond's voice that feels distinct to anything you've seen from him before. This is not a burst of fury fueled by petulant indignation, this is a flash of a rage sustained by an all engulfing flame.

Your fingers press into Luke's shoulder. The sooner he's returned to the sky, the better. "I was only offering an explanation."

"The ever honest princess." Another step. "I have had enough of your brand of honesty."

Your lips briefly part before pressing together again. There is no worthy response, not with the way Aemond's watching you, expression too unforgiving to be about today. Something small and familiar attempts to dislodge itself from your throat, an echo of the apology that failed to salvage any friendship between the two of you years ago.

There's a beat of nothingness that serves as a form of recognition. Aemond straightens. "While I am accustomed to your self righteousness and defense of Lord Strong, even you cannot think you'll get to walk away after what you both attempted."

At that, Luke straightens, shoulders lifting in a way that encourages you to release him. "Leave my sister out of this." He steps forward, planting himself firmly between you and Aemond.

"Luke."

He doesn't look back at you, but your tone does seem to remind him of the importance of deescalation. "I am not going to fight you."

"No. That would be no challenge." Your fingers curl into your palm with such tension you can already feel your nails imprinting your skin. Aemond raises an arm, hand moving to pull off the patch that covers his lost eye. "I want you to pluck out your eye as payment for mine."

Luke shuffles back, head snapping in your direction. His eyes only find yours for a brief moment before he's straightening to face Aemond again, but it's enough for you to see the dread tinging his put together demeanor. His lips parted, his brows furrowed. That same little boy that always trusted you to know how to stop a game from going too far.

You squeeze Luke's arm, a silent promise, a guarantee that you'll--that you'll what? That you'll return him to Arrax unscathed? That you'll find a way to save him? This isn't the same as the faults that were dismissed as an unfortunate yet dismissible consequence of childhood roughhousing.

Blood has been divided, the rightful succession questioned. The children of rightful heirs have faced worse than what Aemond is attempting. Political divide changes things. Standing on the brink of war, you have no defense. There is no predetermined safe territory for you to rush Luke to, and yet...

"You are not taking my brother's eye." The authority bleeding into your voice provides a lifeline. You have nothing to stand on, not here, and yet the firmness of your statement manages to pulse through you.

Aemond presses his lips together, a sharp smile that's too cruel to be reduced to something as simple as sarcastic briefly taking over his expression. "Sister. Brother." He lets out a breath, radiating an assurance that turns your stomach. Aemond turns his head, his full attention falling onto you. "Surely you've seen your own reflection."

The jab should fall flat. As the only one of your mother's children to be born with features that reflect a more traditionally valyrian appearance, snide comments implying that your brothers aren't truly your brothers are far from new. Even if they're right, it wouldn't matter. Your brothers came from your mother, same as you, and even that isn't the only reason you care for them. They're your family. However, Aemond's smugness makes the comment hard to bear. He's indulging in the power he has over the two of you.

"Call him what you'd like," you say, "You're not going to touch him."

Aemond tilts his chin downwards to make it easier to watch Luke. "Do you always need your sister to defend you?"

Luke lifts his chin slightly, shifting his body forward. "There is nothing to defend. We're leaving."

The excuse to end this interaction offers you a wary sense of relief. You're not convinced that Aemond will be willing to let the two of you pass so easily, but Luke's presented an excuse to allow everyone to walk away before tensions can rise further.

Luke steps away from you, making a point to walks towards the left. Once he's a few paces away from you, you start to walk away as well. You keep your eyes trained on the back of Luke's head, as if that will keep the window from closing.

"I am owed a debt."

You turn on your heels. Luke's farther away from Aemond now, a fact you're grateful for, but now you're practically directly in front of him. The proximity throws you more than it should. The last time you were next to Aemond, the two of you were still friends. He's--you're not sure you've ever noted how tall he's gotten.

You press your lips together, dismissing the feeling. If anything, his height is just another reminder that no part of the boy that used to read with you in the library remains in him. "It will not be paid with my brother's blood."

The silence between the three of you is heavy. A part of you thinks the safest course of action might be grabbing Luke and making a run for it. An escape attempt that hasty comes with its own risks. Aemond is more determined than you've ever seen him. And you can't even truly blame him for his anger, for his hatred.

Aemond has to bear the consequences of a moment's mistake for the rest of his life. Luke took his eye, and when you defended him, you stole his trust. But allowing him to hurt Luke is the kind of cruel justice that resolves nothing.

"Aemond, I'm sorry," the genuineness of the statement knots your stomach, "About what happened." You pause, not completely sure where you're going with this. "You didn't deserve it, but that doesn't change the fact that you're taking advantage of a situation. This isn't justice it is...abuse."

He's quiet, and for a long moment you start to think that you've tugged at the wrong thread and now everything's going to unravel.

Aemond steps forward. You force yourself to stay in place. Luke's a few steps away from Aemond, and if things change that might--that might mean something. "How virtuous." His focus weighs on you enough to force the air out of your lungs. "Then tell me, my princess, how do you suggest the debt be paid?" Aemond takes another step towards you. He's so close now that you have to tilt your chin upwards to hold his gaze. "I wonder how noble you'd be if you yourself were on the line."

The meaning of his words take their time to sink in. Something hard lodges itself in your throat. You swallow in an attempt to dislodge the feeling. "My-My eye?"

"No, little good would come from it." He studies your features with such an openness you have to resist the urge to shrink in on yourself. All you have is your ability to stand firm. "You're worth more unscared." Aemond lets out a breath. "Maybe a wedding is what this family needs."

"What?"

If Aemond thinks anything of your shock, he gives no indication of it. "Marrying Rhaenyra's daughter will only strengthen my family's claim to the throne." The accuracy of the statement turns your stomach.

Noble women are regularly married off as solutions for these kinds of conflicts. It's a way of unifying dividing lines. You do not desire war, nor do you think a hypothetical marriage between you and Aemond would truly fix anything. However, the thought of being used as a political pawn to aid your mother's usurper, makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

Aemond also detests you. Marriage is more often than not about duty. Your mother has never kept that from you. The only thing she's ever assured you of is that when the time came for you to be wed, your match would be compatible. A happy marriage does not begin with love, it begins with respect and an understanding of your duty.

Anything Aemond's trying to force you into wouldn't be that. This is about vengeance, about hurting you and your family even if he has to bind himself to you to do so.

The two of you are trapped. You have no allies, no significant weapons unless you count the two dragons that stand no chance against Vhagar, and you are standing in front of someone demanding to hurt your brother. If this is the only way to guarantee your brother's safe passage back to your mother...

"If I--if I agree...you'll forgive my brother of any debt owed?" The question makes something in your chest ache. "You'll let him go?"

There's a beat in which Aemond's eyebrows seem to draw together, but he returns to neutrality so quickly you're not sure if you've imagined it or not. "You have my word."

"No," Luke's voice is right in your ear. It's his turn to grab your arm. "You can't have her."

"Luke..." His fingers wrap around your forearm, his hold on you growing more desperate. "Luke--listen to me."

He shakes his head. "No." Luke straightens his shoulders, something determined flashing behind his eyes. "No, I can't let you do this."

You turn, placing your free hand over his arm. "I will not risk your safety." He begins to protest again, but you stop him, "Go home and explain the situation to Mother." Luke places a hand over yours, a final attempt at convincing you to try anything else.

"Yes," Aemond echoes, "Go and tell your mother that the girl you consider a sister has to pay for your debts."

Luke turns his head. Despite no longer being able to see his expression, you can feel his anger. "Luke." His stillness is not enough to distract from the fight behind his eyes. "Do you trust me?" It takes him a moment to look away from Aemond, but once he does he nods. "Then I need you to go."

He doesn't exactly relax, but he does let out a breath. You pull your hands away from his before enveloping him in a hug. "It's going to be alright." It takes him a moment to think to place his arms against your back. Luke squeezes you in a way he hasn't in years, holding onto you like you're his entire world. "I will see you again."

You carefully shift back. Luke follows your lead, letting his arms fall to his side. "Yes," he says, eyes briefly shifting back to Aemond, "I will."

"Okay." The word feels fragile. "Go back, be safe."

Luke's eyes are glossy as he nods. If things were normal, he'd playfully scoff at your warnings. "I will see you again."

You nod, and Luke finally turns. He walks away, towards Arrax, towards safety. Whatever was keeping you steady seems to leave with him.

You're allowed a brief moment of silence, of grief, before Aemond speaks. "We'll ride back before the storm begins." In your panic, you had not noticed the clouds overtaking the sky. You think of Luke, riding back alone in the rain. Aemond sighs. "Your sacrifice has not been in vain, it will be some time before the skies make a turn for the worse."

Aemond's ability to read you digs at the back of your mind. It'd bother you more if his reassurance was less needed. You're not sure you can trust your voice, so you nod blankly.

He begins to walk forward. You cannot will yourself to move until Aemond's already ahead of you.

The sight of your dragon quells the loneliness hollowing your chest. Your family is far from you, but Starfyre is still by your side.

Not only are you glad for Starfyre's comfort, you're also thankful for the control of being able to ride on your own. A small part of you is also relieved for the excuse to avoid Vhagar.

You've loved dragons for as long as you can remember, and you've been wary of the larger ones for just as long. It's not exactly a fear, you've just always felt the need to admire them from afar. Even as a child, before Aemond had been able to claim Vhagar, you only wanted to observe her from a safe distance.

No one's comments have ever been able to make you wish that Starfyre was different. Her smaller frame makes you feel more in control when you fly, the two of you melding into one as you approach the skies. She's swift, too, her size allowing her soar through the sky like an arrow that never misses its target.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to keep up on that...runt of yours."

How dare he? He knows what Starfyre is capable of more than most. As a child, her speed fascinated him. A knee-jerk reaction is forced past your lips, "The last thing about this arrangement that should concern you is wether or not Starfyre can keep up."

Aemond pauses, turning to face you. Instead of attempting to insult Starfyre again, he asks, "And what should concern me?"

His words are tinged with a cruel sharpness, a silent warning to watch yourself, to not make threats you cannot follow through on. "You should be concerned that you are full of such spite, that you are willingly entering a union with someone that you have detested since--"

Aemond takes a step forward. You shift towards Starfyre, placing a hand against her side. "Since the day I lost my eye?" Another step. "Since the moment you lied to my father to protect Lucerys after what he did?"

The reality of what happened that day hits you in the chest with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. Your vision begins to blur. "He's my brother, Aemond."

"And I was your friend." The words come out hard and fast, his voice nearly breaking on the final syllable.

The honesty cracks something in your chest. Helaena, who you loved, often left you in favor of a world that you couldn't always follow her to. The other boys, who had once let you run around with them, outgrew you. But Aemond--Aemond was always yours.

Aemond scoffs. "You cannot pretend that what you did was enough to make me loathe you. I wrote to you." The letter, one detailing his new reality and desire to speak with you, has been a secret of yours for years. You've kept it tucked between the pages of your favorite book, only taking it out to reread in the middle of the night, with the rest of your family fast asleep. "And you never wrote back."

You blink in an attempt to clear your vision. "I did." The confession burns as it crawls up your throat. "But I couldn't bring myself to send you a raven."

"Because this--" Aemond moves forward in long strides. He's directly in front of you before you can think to move. He turns his head, making it impossible for you to not see his scar in its entirety. "I repulse you."

Is that what he thinks? You remain unflinching, allowing yourself to take in his scar and the appearance of his sapphire eye openly. "No." There has to be some way to put it into words. "I-I couldn't bring myself to speak to you. After the way we left things--After what I had done--I was repulsed by myself." You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. "Accepting your friendship after what I had done felt--cruel."

Aemond straightens. For a brief moment, there is only you, him, and the wound that lies between you. Then his expression's fiery edge morphs into something made of stone. "Ever the martyr."

The insult lacks any significant bite. You let your thumb brush against Starfyre's side, relishing in the comfort of her presence. "Better a martyr than someone so desperate for gratification, they are willing to hurt themselves in the process of earning it."

Ranting at him feels hollow, a motion you're going through for the sake of doing something. Aemond seems to sense some lack of fight in your phrasing, or maybe he's growing tired of this. "We should go," Aemond turns away from you, "The weather's changing."

Even though he's no longer watching you, you nod before returning your attention to Starfyre.

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a/n this was really fun to write, but it was getting long so i decided to break it up, if you're interested in a part 2/would like to be tagged pls lmk :)

also!! if u have any hotd thoughts in general pls feel free to send me them <3

#aemond targaren x you #aeond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x you #house of the dragon fic #x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen! reader #x targaryen! reader

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tomriddleslovergirl · 10 months

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Hcs about how Aemond and Aegon(separate) would react to the reader running away and getting pretty far from Kings Landing? I really love your works btw.

Aemond and Aegon ii Targaryen’s reaction to You running away

Warnings: spoilers, possessiveness, murder

Word count: 1.3k

Aegon ii Targaryen:

Being a seamstress’s daughter, you helped your mother create dresses for Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent.

Your mother had been young when you both moved to King's Landing, having just given birth to you. She’d been close to Princess Rhaenyra, having conversations with each other when she was taking the Princess’s measurements.

As you got older, you helped your mother make dresses for the royal family.

When Rhaenyra moved to Driftmark with the rest of her family, you both were stuck making clothing for Queen Alicent and at times, the other royals.

Prince Aegon & you hadn’t met until it was around the time of his nameday.

Queen Alicent had chosen you and your mother to create a suit for Aegon, for him to wear on his nameday celebration.

Your mother put you on the job of taking the prince’s measurements.

Though Aegon was a bit drunk, he still found it in himself to flirt with you. You, of course, had politely tried to shut down Aegon’s advances, but you soon found yourself taken with him.

Your affair had begun from then on.

When King Viserys died, Aemond found Aegon in your bedroom, begging you to run away with him.

After Aegon was crowned king, your mother had forced you to quickly pack a bag with the items you needed before leaving the castle, saying she wouldn’t support and usurper as a king.

Hours after you left, Aegon had come to visit you.

Your door was open, which hadn’t alarmed Aegon until he walked into your room.

It was a mess.

Clothes were strewn on the floor, various fabrics and sewing supplies were left on chairs or tables.

The drunk prince sobered up when he realized quite a few of your personal items were missing.

Aegon called for his guards to go looking for you as he went to Alicent’s chambers.

When Aegon realized that you were missing, his mind jumped to two possibilities. One, that you had been taken as hostage by the blacks, since Aegon had never been quiet about his relationship with you. Or two, that his mother had something to do with you leaving.

Alicent had tried talking to Aegon before about ending his affair with you. Calling the relationship a disgrace and asking if he had no respect for his sister-wife. Saying that she was using him for his wealth.

Aegon had argued against her and in the end didn’t end his affair with you.

Now, Aegon thought that she may have paid you off to leave King's Landing.

Once he had gotten to her chambers, it was clear to Alicent that something was wrong with Aegon. His cheeks were red and he looked to be in a rush.

When Aegon asked if she had anything to do with your disappearance, she denied it, but said it was good that you were gone. That you would have been nothing but trouble.

Aegon believed her, though defended you when she insulted you.

Over the next couple of days Aegon had been drinking more since your disappearance. When you were still here, he would help him with his drinking problems, but now that you were gone, he had fallen back into his hole of depression.

Since you were gone, Aegon found himself missing you more and more. He got out of bed and walked —or more like stumbled —to your room.

Guards followed him. There were more of them since the war between the blacks and the greens.

He lay down on your bed and breathed it in. It still smelt like you.

Aegon was about to cry over you, when he noticed a small paper half covered by one of the pillows on your bed.

He grabbed it and read through it.

The letter was written in an obvious hurry, the writing messy & jumbled.

In the letter it said that your mother was making you leave King’s Landing in support of his half sister Rhaenyra. And — perhaps stupidly— you wrote that your mother was taking you to Essos.

He clenched the note in his hand. This meant you didn’t actually want to leave him right?

He felt anger towards your mother. She was the one who took you away from him

Aegon decided that he was going to get you back. It wasn’t going to be up for debate.

Aemond Targaryen:

Before the war with the Greens and the Blacks, your father had taken you to King’s Landing to meet Aemond Targaryen.

King Viserys had sent a letter, hoping that he would agree to betroth you to Aemond.

Your father, of course, had jumped at the chance to accept.

To marry a Targaryen would be an honor, he had told you.

You had found yourself upset that you would be forced to marry, but he convinced you to stay on your best behavior.

A celebration was thrown for you & your father.

Your house was quite respectable and wealthy, as you were known for your silk.

You met Aemond at the dinner party, and were surprised by how respectable he was. And you weren't going to lie, he was nice to look at.

You had heard stories about how unattractive the prince was, but you disagreed.

And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt your cheeks heat up when the prince kissed your hand.

During the whole celebration, Aemond was respectful and seemed kind. And you thought that you both seemed to get along just fine.

There was no doubt in your head that you were going to get betrothed after that night.

For the rest of the time you were to spend in King’s Landing, Aemond had courted you.

You both would have tea together while being supervised, and spend time in the library.

Aemond was intelligent. That much was obvious.

You would watch as he trained using his sword & Aemond himself found that he was taken by you.

You didn’t shy away from his gaze like the other ladies-in-court have.

You were intelligent yourself & were eager for him to teach you High Valyrian.

You both got married not long after.

Once the war Between The Blacks & The Greens had begun, you had begun to worry quite a bit over Aemond.

The war had truly begun when Aemond had killed Lucerys Velaryon.

He had claimed it was an accident, while Alicent & Otto had reprimanded him.

Though conflicted, you had decided to believe Aemond when he said it was an accident.

Later on into the war, Aemond was sent to retake Harrenhal.

Once word got back to you that Aemond had ordered the executions of The Strongs, you felt disgusted.

He ordered the death of innocent women & children.

You began to question if the murder of Lucerys was truly an accident.

The more you thought about Aemond, the more you were disgusted by him.

War had changed him. Or had he always been like that?

You decided you were going to leave. You couldn’t share a bed with a man who didn’t think twice about ordering the deaths of children.

It wasn’t as difficult as one would think to leave the castle.

Aemond had taught you about the hidden passages & the layout of them.

You packed a bag and stuffed a pouch with as much gold and diamonds that would fit in it. You put on some of your valuable jewelry as well, in case of an emergency and you need to sell them.

You put on a cloak and grabbed your bag and left, taking a ship to Dorne.

Once Aemond had heard about your disappearance, he returned to King’s Landing as fast as he could, putting Ser Criston Cole in charge of Harrenhal.

Once he had returned to King’s Landing, he hurried to your shared chambers to make sure that what he had heard was true. And it was. You wear no longer in your chambers.

Had someone snuck into the castle and taken you hostage? It was possible.

He soon noticed that some of your jewelry and dresses were gone.

Had you left? To go where? It wouldn’t be to visit your parents. You were far too smart for that.

Aemond Targaryen’s wife was missing and he was going to find you.

And once he does, he was going to make sure you weren’t going to leave him again.

#aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aegon Targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #Aegon ii Targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aemond targaren x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aegon ii targaryen x fem!reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

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Sweet Girl

pronouns: she/her (afab) warnings: smut (piv, oral (male & female receiving), soft, rough), hickeys, possessiveness, incest kinks: light degradation, spit, praise, corruption, overstimulation summary: Aegon and Aemond are less than impressed when they hear that their sweet girl has been betrothed to a man of House Blackwood. They decide she must be claimed in every way a dragon can be claimed and perhaps they may discover even more. pairing/s: Aemond x reader x Aegon dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 4,221

His heart hammers at the sight. His nose twists at the display. His hand clasps a cup to raise. “Final tribute!” Aemond announces, a sly grin twisting his lips but all can see the disgust within it. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke and Joffrey.” He can sense her attention returned to him in mere moments. “Each of them, handsome, wise…Strong.” The implication is clear before Jace even entirely turns his body toward him. “Aemond,” His mother hisses but it means nothing when your eyes are on him. Aemond merely smirks as Luke’s hand drops from his sister’s waist. “Come let us drain our cup to these three…Strong boys,” He pretends to have recalled something. “Ah and my beloved niece’s engagement, I am sure Lord Blackwood will satisfy you plenty. After all, it does not take much to please you.” “I dare you to say that again.” Jacaerys warns, eyes consuming most of his anger while he tries to stay composed. “Why?” He quirks a brow and turns to him. “‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?” The closer they step to one another, the higher the tension rises. In a swift movement you push your younger brother behind you. “Do you not want your sister well satiated?” “Aemond.” It’s your voice that snaps at him this time, Targaryen rage shooting through your voice. Your eyes are narrowed on him but the attention is welcome. He merely smirks at you and that is enough to set Jacaerys on him again, shoulders squared and hunched. "Perhaps only by yourself," The older prince continues to taunt. Jacaerys is quick to fist his hand and hurl it at his uncle but it barely breaks impact. You go to move, yelling at them to stop for once but Aegon grasps your wrists tightly and tugs you flat against his chest. He swallows and blinks rapidly to forget the warm wall of your body against him, oh for the love of seven hells– Jacaerys is shoved to the floor in mere seconds while you scramble futilely to rush to one of the princes. To whom, Aegon is not sure but it makes him smirk all the same. “That is enough.” Alicent chastises as she stands firmly. Aegon attempts to hold back a snicker. Idiot, he thinks to himself.

Before Aegon can comment, Rhaenyra has snatched you into her arms. He tries for maybe a moment to scrounge you back but Daemon glares and the point is made clear. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?” Alicent asks, grappling Aemond by both forearms and the mixture of desperation and frustration evident across her crinkled brow. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Aemond snides, attempting to keep his voice soft before calling out louder, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Jacaerys struggles in a guard's grip but when he breaks free, Daemon stands before him and halts the boy. The rest is a blur and quite frankly you don’t care, you’re too busy trying to drown out the hurt circling your mind. When Daemon commands you to go to your chambers and your mother finally releases you, you make a point of shoving past him. Aegon bites back a snicker while his brother scowls. They both share a smirk, lips twitching upward in tandem. Everything is going perfectly to plan.

The first mistake you should have gathered was that it was Ser Criston Cole who had decidedly stepped up to escort you and your brothers to your guest chambers. You were the final stop and no matter your attempts to engage in conversation, he stayed stiff and silent albeit with eyes glances over you every few seconds before hurriedly returning to in front. Worry cinches your brows and anxiety smothers your body but it needn’t matter once he stands guard at your bed chamber door. That should have been the second mistake. You should have noticed as he dismissed the guard that usually stood before your door and commented on needs elsewhere. You should have noticed as he slammed the door firmly shut. But not all mistakes are unwanted…

You slip into your bed chamber, your sparkling eyes alight with wet unshed tears as you recall the night. You sniffle, not even noticing as a short pattering presses through your walls. A low chuckle wraps around Aegon’s throat before the noise is stifled by his brother’s hand. Aemond’s steps are slower, more careful. Deliberate. A grin as sly as a sneer graces his lips as he peers past the tapestry covering them. Wait…He just needs to wait. And he has proved over the past six years, he is fully capable of this, it is just that his brother is wetting his own lips and jogging his leg in impatience. You call in your ladies maids who gossip and giggle in your ear as they unlace your coal dress, the ruby detailing crumpling in a pattern within it. The laces slide through but their hands are rough and hurried. Aemond almost growls, they have no idea what they’re doing, no idea just who they have the permission to undress. To savour. Aemond would savour you. No, he will savour you. Your fingers are so delicate as they unlock the pattern of your braids, of the thick ropes of silver that falls past your shoulders. Aegon feels a rumbling in his throat again as his groin grows at the sight of hands peeling back your head to gather your hair up and expose your neck. Oh what he wants to do to your neck. Hands finger at your necklace, one that is high and steel and he’s sure must be warm from the heat of your body by now. Aegon sinks his teeth into his lip, letting delusion consume him as he imagines his thick fingers twining it higher on your sweet flesh and yanking at it, kissing at the tears that would slip from your eyes.

Aegon’s disappointment is obvious as he watches your lady remove the necklace and every trace of jewellery. Aemond snickers under his breath, now comfortable for hearing the louder barking of your ladies. “There will be other nights, brother.” He gleams. “Not like tonight.” Aegon huffs. “Not while she is pure.” Aemond rolls his eyes. “You fuck every common whore on the street.” “Fuck-ed.” He corrects with a smirk. “I’ll have a dragon warming my bed from now on. Aemond narrows his eyes. “And what makes you think that?” “My tongue.” Aemond is half an inch close from grasping his hair and tossing his nose into the stone wall. “An unreliable source then.” Aemond comments smooth as a snake. Aegon winces in wound but there’s a playfulness in his eyes. “You wound me.” He snickers but Aemond quickly hushes him at the sight of your figure embracing the girls before they leave. Breath stutters in his throat at the sight of your chemise, baring your long arms to him. He wants to twist them behind you like when you were younger except this time he wouldn’t be so merciful. A groan rolls around his mouth. Your fingers peel at the material and for a moment he wonders if you will remove it but you hesitate and glance around. You must have heard him, Aemond clenches his jaw and Aegon holds his breath. “Ser Cole?” You call out and now he knows you heard him as your feet pad toward your bed chamber door and rapp against it. “Ser Cole?” It is time.

Aegon moves quicker than Aemond does but he’s not any less careful as he glides one arm around your waist and one spread hand along your succulent lips. He wants to taste them but he refrains, letting his wine stained breath coax in your ears. “Hello, sweet girl.” He murmurs and your short struggling ends, wet eyes blinking up at his own as you recognise him. You whimper but soften. You’re not afraid and that is all it takes to harden him again. Aemond chuckles from behind him and Aegon feels you gasp. He moves his hand away from your lips to squish your cheeks. His other paws at your silk fabric. “Oh sweet girl,” Aegon chuckles again. “Don’t let big bad Aemond worry you, he’s promised to be gentle…for now.” Aemond upturns his lip and lets the knuckle of a curious finger roll over your tender skin. “For now,” He repeats slowly. His eyes roam you as sharp and penetrating as an eagle. He wants to play with you first. His cold fingers wind into your hair and tug. Your lashes flutter, your eyes closed and hiding the newfound feelings beneath them. “Are you untouched?” He whispers in your ear and you hesitate. He chuckles. “Bad girl…And here Aegon was so hopeful that you would stay his sweet girl.” The other prince rolls his eyes and glides a hand up your thigh. Your lips part to release a high pitch mewl, your brows knitting and breath hitching. “She does not need to be a maiden to be pure.” Aegon purrs. “Please,” You whisper, pressing your thighs tight. “Who was it?” Aegon hisses and squeezes pries them apart by sliding one hand between them, the one formerly around your waist. You gasp at the contact and his voice.

He’s only ever been gentle with you before. His nose presses against your hair, his eyes pressing shut. “So sweet,” He whispers into it, breathing it in. He groans like a sinner. “Just tell us and you can be our sweet girl again, just tell us,” He coos, suddenly soft again. It might have been the threat of his hand drifting over your throat or the excitement that throbbed at your bud that let the forbidden whisper pass your delectable mouth. “A stable boy.” Aegon’s hands both tighten at the utterance and Aemond chuckles. “Would you really rather seek the affections of a low-born than that of a dragon who would worship your every step?” Aegon sneers at the mere idea. Wet kisses plant like the juice of fruits along your neck, his breath heavy. “I think we can do better than that ingrate, darling. Let us show you.” Aemond moves to roam his up and down your waist, almost comforting before his left lowers to slap your rear and deliver a resounding noise. You steal an inhale quickly. Aegon snickers and leans to throw his head back. “Ohhh,” He drawls lowly before kissing up your neck again, tracing it with his tongue. “We are going to have so much fun with you.” He speaks in deliberate muffled murmurs.

Aegon’s hand draws up your chemise, the fabric rising like rippled water as it flows up your skin. He groans, peeking over at the exposure. A shudder runs over your veins, the pressure of it riding you back into his embrace. Your neck rolls back as a gasp slides between your teeth. Your brows crinkle when Aemond’s slender hand cups your breast, squeezing it gently between his fingertips. He wishes he could watch as the flesh spills over but you are still horrendously covered in the cruel white fabric. Aemond is slick when he rolls the chemise over your head and chuckles at the bare skin beneath. “Bad indeed,” He comments. “It is as though you were waiting for us, princess.” Aegon’s grip tightens. “Our sweet,” He cups your cheek and squeezes it before diving forth and finally tasting your lips, pressing lips warm with dragons blood to one another and expressing the lewdness of one’s tongue. His muscle slips between the seam and runs along your mouth. He groans at the feeling while Aegon moans at the debauchery. The elder prince dips his hand between your thighs and admires the plump flesh, rolling it between his fingers before a thick finger wedges between the glistening folds that he is so desperate to meet. A sharp high pitched jolt of sound pushes into Aemond’s mouth and he swears his eye nearly rolls back. “See,” Aegon chides with a smirk. “I told you that she is still pure. Our good girl once more. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Whimpers are too busy occupying your mouth to elicit a response but the man is satisfied, chuckling and begins to grind his hips against your rear.

A resounding sound slaps the air once Aemond parts from you. “Good girl,” He mewls, he removes his hand from your breast to cup your jaw. Again he opens your lips but this time you are much more willing. You don’t understand at first why his tongue is rummaging through his own mouth but before long, he slicks his saliva and spits it into your mouth. Your breath hitches but he closes your mouth and narrows his eyes. “You are ours now. Swallow.” He smirks when you obey. “Sweet darling,” Aegon coos and strokes at your swelling bud. “You know that you’re ours, don’t you? Don’t you sweetheart?” The claimant lets another whine bounce from his lips to your ear. You nod, eyes wetting at the attention. “That’s our sweet girl, always wanting my approval, huh?” The comment shouldn’t stroke your wetness like it does but neither should the thumb playing with your pearl. Aemond grins. “Ever since we were children, isn’t that right?” Aegon snorts at the claim. “I think you will find that I was much more important to her.” Aemond scoffs while Aegon starts to thrust his finger inside you. A soft yelp slips out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut, already stimulated between the two men. “Please,” You whisper to no avail, they are too busy in their petty squabbling. The rivalry between them only strengthens. Aegon licks his lips. “I bet you that I could make her cum with my thigh.” You whine at the imagery shooting through at the thought. Aemond glances down at your figure. You deserve a reward, he decides. “Keep begging like that and I’ll be stuffing my cock in that pretty cunt of yours.” Aemond whispers in your ear. Another whimper escapes.

“You won’t be waiting long, you needn’t chase, brother.” Aegon grins as sly as a fox. His hands grasp at you until he can haul you over his shoulder and carry your surprised and squealing form toward your bed. He lets his eyes roam the plush mattress and canopy. How many nights has he slept in here while you were away? Awaking with a stiff length and your portrait in his palm. A rumble threads through his throat at the mere memory. He crawls over you and kisses at your shoulder until your mewls become restless. “This feels like more than your thigh, Aegon.” His brother snides, Aegon can already feel his judgement. He rolls his eyes. “All in good time.” Is all he babbles, wanting to enjoy his prize before she is plucked again. Finally he pulls back and looks at your eyes. Those beautiful shining jewels. This time his hand is tentative as it coils around your neck. His eyes feast on the bliss, glossy shine and your kiss-bruised lips. He licks his own and swallows. “All ours,” He lilts like a man desperate and he supposes he is as he tosses you to wrestle the length of his right thigh. His hands settle on your hips and he juts the muscle against your sweet cunt. A gasp escapes and your eyes close. “Look at me,” He growls and suddenly, Aemond is behind you and letting his fingers trace at your shoulders. “Look at your future King.” That is what snaps your eyes open and rips another gasp. You do not have time to protest or question him because as you crinkle your brows, he is pulling you back and forth on him and stimulating your bud against the rough fabric of his leg. “That’s it,” He praises. “Be a good princess for me.” A guttural groan bounces off the walls. Aemond embraces your bosom with both hands, rolling the teats with a softness you didn’t know was capable of him. “Sweet girl,” He, too, praises. You whimper, mind fuddling at the mixing information desperate to pass your lips. But it’s too much. It is more than you have ever known and certainly more than that stable boy taught you. What was his name again?

You don’t have time to remember because now your thighs are clenching around his and it’s you who demands control, sliding back and forth like it were your god given right. Your birth right that the boys are eager to supply. “Aegon, please,” you practically beg for the first time in your life. “I knew you would want us,” Aegon hisses. “I knew you would. Aemond is more a fool than you remember him, thought that leaving us was your choice but do not fret, my dear,” Your face scrunches. Your pace quickens, desperate, pleading, wanton. “We’re not letting you go again. Your mother can tear me limb from limb if she wants to but you are not leaving us again.” It is that moment that triggers a long hybrid of yelping whines from your lips. The air feels thick in your throat but stale in your mouth. “Please!” You yelp in one final beg. “Let go,” Aemond whispers. Your peak doesn’t finish quickly, oh no, instead it drowns out any sound for what very well be an hour and if you were lucid you would feel humiliated at the certain prospect of Ser Criston Cole hearing you from outside your door. Your limbs immediately collapse against Aegon’s chest as he continues to roll his thigh enough for you to keep enjoying your ride. Pride swells in his chest. “Good girl,” He murmurs. “So good for us.” He kisses your cheek and lingers. “Let Aemond clean you up, yeah?” You nod limply and blissed as he moulds your body to his very whim, turning you gently to rest your back upon your mattress. He parts your thighs with little resistance and Aemond is eager to slide between them. You do not expect to see such eagerness in the youngest of the Targaryen men aiding your pleasure.

Aemond audibly moans at the slick that greets him. You jump as he glides a single index finger along your thigh before he sticks out his tongue, tastes the residue and hums at the flavour that greets him. “Sweet girl, indeed.” He murmurs. “Sweet girl indeed.” It takes little effort for him to engage in your said sweetness, licking fervently and sucking violet marks into your thighs. You barely feel it, too absorbed in your high. Your head lolls to the side, barely noticing as Aegon laughs. “I thought it would take more but I suppose you are more like your mother than we suspected. Albeit lucky for us.” You whimper at that and it seems to shut him up for now. Aemond’s tongue delights at the taste of you, poking between your lower lips and probing at every droplet he can steal from. Even after he has drained you, he wants more. He sighs and palms at his own hardened member. “Want it,” You babble as if he has taken your comprehension into his tongue also. He lets the upturn of his lips quirk and glances at his brother. He raises a brow. “I think we can help you with that.” The brothers both hum, smirking. “And which one of us do you want in your little snatch, sweet thing? Tell us, princess.” Your lip wobbles and suddenly concern lowers their brows. Aegon is quick to your side, more experienced in the matter and your face turns into his neck just as quickly. Comforting palms caress your hair and soothe you softly.

“Is it too much, my love?” He asks quietly and suddenly worries. He was so sure that you would enjoy this, you always loved pushing yourself, always pleaded for their approval. Has time really changed you that much? You shake your head, inner frustration trembling your body. “N-No,” You stutter, sniffles threatening you. He softly shushes you. “Take your time,” He commands gently but with a firm tongue. “Look at me.” He directs your head up so those pretty doe eyes blink up at him. “Is it too much?” He asks. You shake your head, a gentle pout at your lips. He releases a relieved breath. “Do you want more?” You nod. He looks over at Aemond. “I think we need a word.” He states with authority atop his demanding voice. He nudges his head, moving a hand so he can wrap an arm around you as soft and comforting as an old blanket. Familiar. Aemond rubs soothing patterns on your thigh. “Something she can say if it gets too much.” He ignores your whining, threading fingers to gently massage at your hair. Aemond glances over you and nods, a softness in his gaze. “What do you want, sweetness?” Aemond asks, the most gentle he has ever spoken. Another sniffle leaves you and he drinks in your wet eyes. You drift your eyes down and bite your lip. A few moments pass. You hesitate but he nods in prompt. You swallow. “Sapphire.” You whisper and an expression passes over him but it is found indistinguishable. He nods and looks up at Aegon who returns the gesture. “Sapphire.” He repeats.

Their ministrations appear more gentle this time, held back. Soft. Aemond circles your flesh with his thumb and rises to hover over your body. “Whose do you want?” His light lilt asks, letting his thumb fly away the tears that gather on your cheeks. “Whose cock?” He asks. You do not answer at first, instead you whimper and tug at his shirt. “Aemond.” You murmur and while Aegon is disappointed, he cannot say it is unjustified. You have seen him fuck before with all the animalistic prowess of his teenhood but Aemond is still the soft boy who read stories to you when you were both children. You do not know what to expect from him yet. An experimental little dear. A pang of surprise and desire threads at his pained heart. “I want you,” You murmur. He swallows. You want him. He doesn't think anyone has ever wanted him over Aegon. Over a soon-King at the rate his father was decomposing like the corpse he is. Aemond nods, unable to speak for fear that it will incite his voice to break and provide his brother another tease. He merely nods and lets your soft fingers undress his tunic, his undershirt and slowly you both work at his trousers. Aegon grumbles something and undresses himself but it is all in playful quips. An intimacy structures him as he holds your hands and hesitantly rests them to wrap around his neck. “I will never hurt you,” He whispers and kisses your neck chastely. His hands wrap around his tender member and he glides between your legs softly. “That’s it,” He murmurs. “So perfect for me.” With that he slips inside, breath halting on the way. Aegon slips behind you and props you against his chest, he raises your hips so Aemond’s leverage is better endowed. Aemond pushes, a hiss dripping off his lips. “I want you,” You babble again. “Want you, want you,” With every praise, he quickens. Every sweet word encourages his desperation. “That’s it,” He praises you, hips snapping to yours. He tries to hold back but then your legs wrap around him and there’s nothing more that could induce his pleasure. Your jolts of movement in return persuade him further to be the one to draw your fountain this time. “You’re not going to marry that lord.” Aegon utters. “You’re going to stay here and be our sweet girl aren’t you?” You nod, bordering on a moan. “Do it.” He breathes. “Let go.” You do and he swears it is the prettiest sound he has ever had the grace of hearing. “Good princess.”

“You want it, don’t you sweetheart?” Aemond teases, confidence returned. You nod. “You want it so bad that you are soaking me.” His firm appendage stiffens even further inside you. A moan ripples from the roof of his mouth. “Yes,” You tell him, throwing your head back onto Aegon’s shoulder as the man plays with your breasts. “That’s a good darling, don’t you want to help your uncles?” You hiss at a particular jolt of his groin. You nod. “Mhm,” You whimper, eyes snapping closed. Aegon smirks. “What about your pretty mouth?” He grins. “Does your pretty mouth want to please us?” You nod again with desperate whines. Aemond nods at his brother before carefully twisting you around, only pulling out for a moment before sliding back in. You gasp at the momentum but then it is quickly muffled by Aegon’s fingers easing your mouth on his length. He hisses. “Sweet girl,” He murmurs and moans, eyes rolling back as the peak of his fantasies crashes onto his cock. Your tongue flicks as Aemond’s fingers move to flick your bud, his pace unrelenting as he pushes you forward. “That’s it…” The men gleam. “So perfect.” Everything is going perfectly to plan.

And you do not even know it yet.

Sweet Girl Taglist (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @targbarbie @aemondx @connorsui

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter @cookielovesbook-akie

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santhamantha · 2 months

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#hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond ‘when you commit war crimes bottom text’ targaren

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

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Ending 1: Destined for Violence

Summary: You make a choice and leave Harrenhal

Notes: this might just be a little sad.

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @bpdst-massacre @padfooteyes @lj127 @bitem4rked @cl-0-vr @chattylurker @levithestripper @a-beaverhousen (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Part 1 / Ending 2 | Masterlist | my requests are OPEN!

You woke up with a start in the middle of the night, not remembering where you were immediately. For a moment, the soft sheets under your hands felt like a trap, until you spotted Aemond next to you, sleeping.

You’d never seen him sleep before. Somehow, it was strange to see him so peaceful. Aemond had never been peace, even as a child. And yet, it looked like he hadn’t seen a lick of violence in all his days.

It wasn’t true. You felt cold suddenly, and the fact that you had woken up felt like a sign. You couldn’t kill Aemond, and this night would always be a weakness. But you could still fight. You could still try to make good what you’d done, for your Queen.

Somehow, you knew that leaving now would be a better revenge than whatever Daemon could do to make Queen Alicent pay for Lucerys. Daemon couldn’t reach Aemond, but you could.

Still, it felt like your ankles were in iron fetters as you slipped off the bed, searching for an escape. Instead, your eyes landed on a table, with the things on it that had been taken from you when you were captured.

They were stacked and folded neatly, arranged methodically and yet it felt like Aemond had built an altar for you. Your heart wrenched in your chest, and you ignored it, grabbing your things off of the tabletop.

An altar in ruins, at your hands.

Daemon had taught you to become a shadow, so you slipped into the dark hallways without a sound, pulling your cloak over the simple dress the woman had given you at your bath. Had it truly only been half a day? It felt like years.

Quietly, you picked up a bucket that had been abandoned on the floor outside of Aemond’s room, trying to fit the picture of a servant. Few hallways were patrolled, and the guards that passed you paid you no mind.

When one tried to stop you, you pulled him into a shadowed alcove of the castle and slit his throat. Blood ran over your fingers, and you wiped it on your cloak before it could stain.

The price for leaving grew as the life left the man’s body, and you knew that the next time you slept, another face would appear in your nightmares.

It didn’t matter. You had a headstart of a few hours, if you were lucky. You needed to find a forest, trees under which you could hide from a dragonrider’s gaze.

A soft whinny was the only sound that could have revealed you, but the horse complied as you stroked its flank, allowing you to lead it into the courtyard. The guards at the gates halted you, asking where you were going.

“An important message for the king. The prince wants me to ride immediately.” You said.

“Long live the king.” The guard replied, stepping out of your way. His head would be on a spike tomorrow, you knew. And another face.

“Indeed.” You replied, and even that tasted acidic on your tongue, reminding you that you were a traitor now.

You kicked your horse into a gallop, leaving Harrenhal in the dust, but the guilt in your heart seemed to slow it down as well. Two lives it had already cost. How many more? It wasn’t unreasonable to Aemond to execute his guards for disloyalty, and to let a prisoner slip through the cracks…

It didn’t matter. You had to make their unwilling sacrifice worth something. If you made it to the Trident, you’d be able to take a ship from Maidenpool to Dragonstone. No, scratch that, you’d make for Rook’s Rest.

Your best shot at getting back alive was there, where you’d be able to catch a ship no doubt, or at least obtain some new information about the war.

The horse you’d chosen carried you throughout the rest of the night, until the sun rose, and you knew that by now, Aemond would have found out.

Instead of riding straight for Rook’s Rest, you sought out a forest, knowing that your journey would be elongated by the ride west, but your life mattered more.

And not an hour later, the roar of a beast shook the ground under you. Through the canopies of the forest, you could see Vhagar’s massive body, flying close to the ground. Her claws grazed the treetops, and you knew that even now, Aemond was like to find you. He would hunt you down, and even if he did not, his men would.

So you abandoned your horse, tying it to a tree and ran in search for an alcove or a cave. Instead, you found an overhang over a small creek, the roots of ancient trees sure to cover you. You scrambled underneath, praying to the gods that Aemond would search elsewhere.

You lost hope when you heard the screams of a dying horse. Closing your eyes, you flattened yourself against the damp earth under the treeroots, covering your mouth with some fabric. Around you, the stench of smoke began to rise into the air.

He was burning the trees aimlessly, either trying to kill you or smoke you out. The ash that rained down on you stung your eyes, causing tears to pool and threatening to spill over.

The heat grew unbearable, so you grabbed handfuls of the mud in the creek, trying to smear it over you for some relief, and hide your bright dress somehow.

Still, the fire stayed, wood cracking around you. A branch broke off, falling into the creek and splashing water onto you. At some point, the shadow of Vhagar disappeared, her roars replaced by silence.

You stumbled out from under the alcove, heart hammering in your chest as you surveyed your surroundings. A few paces away from you, you found the carcass of your horse, burned to the bones, the metal of her reigns molten into them.

The soldier in you made you carry on, stumbling out of the forest and making a run for it. You could make it to Rook’s Rest today, and the riders would not catch up with you. You’d driven your horse to exhaustion.

Cutting off the long hem of the dress, you discarded it on the ground and began to run. When your weapons grew heavy on your back, you didn’t stop. When your muscles began to burn, you didn’t stop. When your lungs felt like they were on fire, you did not stop.

You’d been taught different, and you would survive.

And when running was no longer possible, you walked. Then you stumbled, crawling forward. This was your only chance at making it to Dragonstone, and you’d take it. You had to.

It was this or dragonfire.

The palms of your hands burnt as dirt scraped onto the cuts in them, and you ignored the pain. Nauseau began to roil your stomach, a sign that you were too exhausted for this. The time of imprisonment had weakened you, and you paid your price as you emptied your stomach onto the grassy ground.

You wouldn’t have made it to Rook’s Rest if soldiers hadn’t been on patrol. They saw your face, covered in soot and the vomit in the corner of your mouth and stopped their horses.

“Green or black?” one of them called. You had no idea what their loyalty was. The Riverlands were filled with both.

“Black.” You managed. They hooted in agreement, but you barely heard them, the world turning in front of your eyes as you collapsed on the ground.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was that you hadn’t been raped and thrown away. You supposed it was the honor of the Riverlands that compelled these soldiers, for in Flea Bottom, you would’ve woken up beaten and bloodied.

Instead, a septa was tending to your wounds, giving you a small smile when you opened your eyes. The vomit had been wiped from your mouth, and your palms dressed in soft fabric.

“Thank the Gods.” She sighed.

“Water.” You croaked, and she set the cup at your lips, helping you drink.

“Slowly, or you’ll lose your stomach again.”

“Who?”

“Who found you? Lord Staunton’s soldiers. They’re pious men, lucky for you.” She said.

“Need to talk to Lord Staunton.” You wheezed. The septa laughed at that.

“Women like us have no business talking to lords.”

“I’m Prince Daemon’s general.” You replied through gritted teeth. “I need to get to Dragonstone.”

She paled at your words. “You’re the blacksmith’s daughter?”

“Famous?” you asked sarcastically, and she gave a slow nod.

“I’ll find Lord Staunton.”

They dragged you from your bed immediately, despite the septa’s protests and set you onto a boat headed for Dragonstone. You watched as a raven flew ahead to send word of your return.

Apparently, the Blacks had made you a martyr. Too bad you’d risen from the dead.

A maester watched your every move, not even letting you piss in peace. Milk of the poppy wasn’t offered. Instead, your wounds were dressed as well as possible. You had bruises and burns in places you hadn’t realized at first.

You were only thankful that the septa had pulled the molten soles of your shoes from your foot while you were out.

At Dragonstone, guards already awaited your arrival, hefting your arms over their shoulders to practically drag you inside. Your pride was getting chipped away bit by bit as they laid you into the castle’s infirmary and finally left you alone.

Except that the soldiers around you were groaning with agony, in conditions far worse than what you had suffered. Covered in burns and missing limbs, they lay in their pain as you were made to think of yours.

Herbwives and healers of every kind scuffled amongst the men, but they left you alone, finally. You closed your eyes, trying to fall asleep.

And awoke trying to swat the enemy’s hands off your shoulders, until you realized that it was Prince Jacaerys, for some reason.

“My prince?” you choked out.

“We all thought you were dead. My mother wanted me to retrieve you, but you were screaming in your sleep.”

“Oh. Apologies, my prince.” You replied. The boy was impossibly pale, and for a moment, you forgot that he was only a few years younger than you.

“Come.” He said, helping you off the bed. You struggled to stay upright, feeling your burnt soles chafe against the ground. Another soldier came to your aid, taking your weight off of the young heir’s shoulder.

“How are you?” he asked while you limped after him, struggling to keep up with his pace.

You froze for a moment, not remembering the last time someone had asked. “In pain.”

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” Was all he said to that.

“How has it been for you, my prince?” you asked.

“I miss my brother.”

“So do I.” you said with a small smile.

“You have a brother?”

“Three to be exact. They stayed behind with my mother when my father and I left for Dragonstone. They’re probably dead now. Too much honor for their own cause.”

“I’m sorry.” Jacaerys replied. You saw the boy in him for a moment, slipping through the cracks of heirdom momentarily.

“I mourned them when the war began.” You replied curtly, not wanting to talk about your grief to a prince.

Ser Erryk opened the door to the map room as you approached, letting you inside.

“Your Grace.” You greeted carefully, giving a clumsy bow. “I would kneel, but I do not think I can.”

“You’re alive.” She replied. “I didn’t quite believe it.”

Her son’s death had cost Rhaenyra much, and now that you stood in front of her, you could see it. The flesh had fallen off her face, her bones sharp and her lilac eyes empty.

“Me neither.” You said dryly.

“You must rest, for a swift recovery. We’ve lost too many good generals and commanders.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“I would have you knighted, for your bravery, but you are still a woman. Ask what you wish to have of me, and if it is in my power, I will give it.”

“Thank you, your Grace. I beg, please do not send me back to Harrenhal or the Riverlands again. Let me serve you somewhere else.”

Before Queen Rhaenyra could respond, the doors to the room burst open, and Daemon walked in. You saw the fury in his eyes blaze hot, and barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed you against a wall, hands on your neck.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra called, but he ignored her.

“You were supposed to kill him.” He snarled, his grip tightening. You could feel his elbows dig into your stomach, the cool sting of his chainmail painful against your sore skin. “I trusted you to be smart enough to gather that! A son for a son, how hard can it be, huh? Instead you’re back here, groveling like the traitor you are.”

“Enough!” Rhaenyra commanded, her voice cutting through the air like Valyrian steel. Daemon let go of you, as if you were poisonous, and you fell to your knees, your vision blurring with tears of pain.

“I couldn’t.” you croaked. It wasn’t a lie.

“She was a prisoner for months!” Rhaenyra reminded her husband. “I am glad to have a trustworthy commander back at my side, and you injure her further! Do not call her a traitor, for she is anything but!”

You couldn’t see Daemon hit her, but you heard his palm impact with her face. Your world came to a crashing halt as you watched your Queen stumble backwards, holding her face in disarray. It felt like a moment too intimate to witness, even if you were on your knees and your head was bent in obeisance.

“Leave.” She said dangerously quiet. Daemon backed away from her, his fury evident. He’d always been more dragon than man, and now, it was coming to the surface. A hand on Dark Sister’s hilt, he strode out of the room, stepping on your hand on purpose.

“Your Grace.” You managed, trying to back into a corner, to just disappear. She did not reply, straightening her back as the doors to the Map room opened again and her son walked inside. You could see on his face that Jacaerys knew.

“Mother.” He said, and you could hear all the unspoken things that went with it, reminding you that your own mother was gone. How you longed to embrace her one last time. How you wished to have died at her side a long time ago.

“Confer with the Maester and find her a room. We need a new commander, and she needs to heal.” Rhaenyra told him curtly, and Jacaerys nodded.

He helped you up carefully, trying to steady you as you stumbled on your feet.

“My prince, you mustn’t.” you mumbled, trying to find balance by putting your hand against a wall.

He ignored you, helping you walk all the way to a small chamber. It was clean, had a bed and your things in it, and that was more than what you’d ever had. So why did you feel so unsatisfied?

“Thank you, my prince.” You said.

“Jace.”

“Sorry?” you asked.

“My friends call me Jace.” He said, his voice cracking.

“I- my prince, I do not know if that’s proper.”

“We grew up together. We played together as children, didn’t we?”

It felt like a made-up story to remember. Yes, Jacaerys had tormented Aemond for being dragonless, but he’d been a child. You’d all been children.

“War makes us lonely, doesn’t it?” you replied.

“Yeah.” He said.

“I’d like to have a friend again, Jace.” You tried. The smile on his face grew, and he gave you an excited nod.

“I’ll leave you to rest.” He said, before slipping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind him.

***

The day you could stand on your feet again, you dragged yourself into the courtyard. To no surprise, Daemon was waiting for you there. He’d heard the maester’s assessment, and he expected nothing less than everything of you.

He looked erratic as his hand curled around the grip of Dark Sister, pacing up and down the length of the rocky courtyard.

“You’re late.” He snapped, despite the fact that the sun wasn’t up, and the two of you were the only ones there.

“My apologies, my prince.” You replied, repeating the empty words. Still, your hand tightened around the grip of your sword, and not a second too soon.

Daemon brought his sword down, and he brought it down hard, leaving a nick in your sword as your arms shook to block. He did not heed his wife’s commands as he sliced at you with fury, not caring for your pained expression.

It only got worse when Caraxes landed on the rocks surrounding the courtyard, watching his rider intently. The dragon’s intent gaze prickled on your back as Daemon attacked again. It was impossible to prevail against Dark Sister’s bite, but you still managed to swipe his feet out from under him.

He landed on his back, only growing angrier at losing against you. You held your hand out to him, trying to help him up, but Daemon only grabbed you by the arm, pulling you down.

Immediately, you brought up your arms, blindly catching the first punch Daemon threw. He tried to reach into his boot for a knife, and you kicked it out of his hand, knowing that right now, Daemon would not hesitate to murder you.

The knife clattered onto the ground a few paces away from you, and you scrambled towards it, but Daemon crushed you with his weight, reaching for it himself. Angry and blinded with pain, you bit his arm, causing him to growl and Caraxes to hiss.

He pushed your face into the dirty ground, scraping your cheek with sharp rocks. You elbowed his stomach and for a second, you had enough time to scramble away from him and get back onto your feet, only armed with his knife.

Daemon twirled Dark Sister lazily. Blood pulsed in your ears, your heart hammering in your chest and sweat dripped from your jaw onto your boiled leather armor. You felt the bruises begin to form beneath your skin as you lifted the knife in your defense, with a heavy hand and a terrified heart.

The look he had in his eyes had to be the same he had had when he killed the soldiers on the Stepstones all those years ago. You ducked out of the way of his sword, sidestepping his cut, but he sliced into your armor and cut your arm. Blood began to well from the wound immediately, but you gripped the knife even tighter.

When Daemon charged a second time, you kicked up dirt from the yard, blinding him long enough for you to get behind him and hold the knife at his throat.

You weren’t as tall as he was, but even from your height, you could almost see the furious expression on his face.

You would’ve yielded, but then, he’d have killed you. Winning was your only option.

“Yield.” You said.

He spat in your face. When Daemon threw his sword away and raised his fits to fight, you let him hit you. There was no use in trying to get the prince to stop. He’d have to let his anger out on someone. Better you than the Queen or her children.

Distantly, you felt your back impact with the ground, Daemon’s fist cracking against your cheek. Weakly, you threw your hands up to protect yourself, but Daemon shoved them back into the ground, stones reopening closed cuts and bruising injured skin.

When Daemon paused his punches, you spat out the blood that had flown from your nose into your mouth. Your ears were ringing, and your head thudded from pain.

“Daemon!”

There it was again. You tried to lift your head, seeing Prince Jacaerys, no Jace, stand on the stairs leading down to the courtyard, face ashen again. Guilt hit you like a punch, only growing worse as the young prince ran down to pull his stepfather off of you.

Daemon gave one last cruel hiss in your direction before he let off, stalking from the courtyard.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“As long as you do not demand to spar as well.” You replied dryly.

“Isn’t it tiring?”

“Quite.” You said. He helped you up again.

“It appears our friendship consists only of you helping me up.” You noted. He gave a slight smile as you recognized that he had asked for your friendship and given it. He could’ve commanded it, but intuitively, you knew Jacaerys would not do that.

Instead, he took you to the maester, sitting next to you as he treated your wounds and idly chatting away. You enjoyed it, not having to think of what you said for once.

“The prince cracked some of the bones in your face.” The Maester sighed. “They may heal crooked.”

“No matter.” You replied, but in the back of your mind, something crumbled. Would Aemond still find you beautiful then? “What about the rest?”

“Bruising. It’ll elongate the time it takes you to heal. You’ll be ready for combat in a few moons again. Perhaps at the start of the new year, but not earlier.”

You nodded, trying to swallow down the bitter news. War was horrible but stuck here in Dragonstone with a venomous Daemon might be worse.

***

The first time you were let back into the Map room was to plan an attack on Green loyalists. You didn’t know much, only that Rhaenyra needed people with experience.

Except that when you entered the room, Rhaenyra wasn’t there, only Prince Daemon and Lord Corlys. Jacaerys, who had walked there with you gave you a pitying smile.

He was a good friend. Not the kind Aemond had been, but sweet and dutiful. He went easy on you during the few spars you were permitted, and had distracted you with lessons in High Valyrian, which he insisted would be a fun way to pass the time.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d rather sit in the smithy all day, listening to steel ringing on steel and your father’s stories.

How your father was still alive, you didn’t know, but you were glad that one member of your family still was. He’d treated you by telling you the wild tales he’d made up for you and your brothers when you were young, and doting upon you like he never had before.

My little soldier, he called you now. It broke your heart every time.

He’d made you a new sword, with a small blue stone worked inside the hilt. Daemon could have had his head for treason, but your father had guessed that you missed your friend. It disappeared under your thumb each time you gripped it to fight, and your heart cracked a little further.

“It is time we smoked the Greens out of Harrenhal.” Daemon announced, and you felt something shatter in your chest.

Jace’s pity only grew more apparent. You hadn’t spoken of the Riverlands since you’d returned, but anyone could guess.

“Caraxes, Sheepstealer and Vermax shall lead the attack from the sky.” Lord Corlys continued. “And you, girl, will lead the forces on the ground.”

You ignored his insult, instead feeling your lungs constricting at the thought of going back there.

“You’ll await those that may come swarming from the castles with open arms and raised swords.” Daemon concluded.

***

Your feet stung as you marched through the Riverlands, the dragons above you keeping guard. The pain was a reminder of what had happened the last time you crossed these lands.

They’d fitted you with expensive armor this time. The cheekbone Daemon had shattered had healed a little crooked as the maester had predicted, a helmet hiding it from everyone around you. The lust for blood hung heavy in the air around you, these new soldiers that were barely old enough to fight and green as grass ready to spill it.

After a few days, the imposing shadows of Harrenhal came into view. According to your scouts, the Greens were completely unaware of what was coming for them up until now. Caraxes’ screech rung through the air as Daemon swooped through the clouds above you, making for Harrenhal.

You’d be at the gates in a few minutes, and the only thing keeping you from losing your mind was the thought that Aemond might escape. A traitorous thought, one that was only soothed by the small blue stone under your thumb.

With the fire came the screams. You shouted an idle command, and the rows of soldiers closed behind you, shields melding into walls as you waited for innocents to run to their deaths.

Only a few guards were armed enough to fight, but with a bay of steel waiting for them, they were dead before they could raise their weapons.

Your head turned off, no thoughts in your head as you killed women, children and men as if they were animals. Blood coated your blade and armor, splattering between the slits of your helmet as if to remind you of what you were doing. But this was war, and it could not be helped by people like you.

Your men pushed forward, a mass of bodies carrying you closer to the walls of Harrenhal. Your mind screamed at you to run, but you couldn’t. Instead, your feet were planted firmly on the ground, soldiers with shouts of victory streaming towards the castle walls.

And then, Vhagar raised her head above the castle walls to defend herself and your feet moved on their own accord, pushing through your own soldiers and towards the thin line of enemies.

Five guards stood at the entrance of Harrenhal, shivering. You were sure you looked courageous as you charged towards them. By the time you reached them, only two were left. The other three had bolts and arrows in their necks.

You didn’t notice their deaths, only a small flicker of blond in the enemy courtyard. Aemond.

There was a strangled noise from your throat, one you didn’t recognize as your own, and your feet carried you further. There was a pull towards him, impossible to escape.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to kill him or kiss him. You needed to prove yourself, but to whom? Daemon or Aemond?

Jace called your name, his dragon flying low, but half of it was swallowed by the wind and you ignored him. Aemond was in the courtyard, running towards Vhagar. You had to reach him first.

Your armored body crashed into him, pulling him away from Vhagar. Forcefully, with a violence you’d only ever been an onlooker of, Aemond drove a dagger right into your chestplate. It would have been impossible, but your father had mended the hilt of said dagger, so you recognized the blade immediately.

Aegon’s blade.

He ripped your helmet off, no doubt wanting to see the man that had tried to stop him. His face fell as he saw yours.

“Aemond.” You said, and you felt your own weapon drive into his side, Daemon’s taunts in the back of your mind.

“I promised.” He replied. “I promised and I’m sorry.”

“No.” you grunted, blood bubbling up in your throat. You pressed a hand onto your chest, trying to stop the bloodflow, distantly you heard Vhagar roar, defending her rider from attacking soldiers. Aemond steadied you, despite the blood coming from his own wound.

Through the fog in your mind, you remembered the little bits of High Valyrian Jace had taught you and tried to form a phrase. One to make Aemond proud, to distract him.

“Avy-“ you began. Aemond’s eye widened at your words. “Avy jorrāelan.”

“My love.” He whispered, rocking you gently. Tears you’d never allowed to fall now threatened to spill, and you raised a bloody hand, cupping Aemond’s face.

“Let me see you.” You begged. Aemond understood, wincing through the effort of lifting his arm and pulling off his eyepatch.

“I love you too.” He whispered. His words were almost swallowed by the noise of battle, all animosity and betrayal that could’ve been in his features gone.

“I mad-“ you began, but Aemond hushed you, gently rocking you as he knelt on the ground, kneeling for you.

“Don’t speak my love. I will fetch the Maester.”

You gave a ragged laugh, more wheeze than anything else. One of your organs had been punctured, you knew.

“I’m dying.” You whispered. “I made a choice, and it was wrong.”

“It wasn’t.” Aemond said, but you knew that was a lie.

“Please, Aemond. Please make the pain go away.”

He shook his head at your insinuation, now tearing up too. Blood stained his side, dripping onto the burnt earth and coloring it scarlet. With the little strength you had left, you grabbed Aegon’s dagger, lying off to the side, and held it out to him with a silent plea.

After what felt like an eternity, Aemond took it.

For the first time in your life, you saw his hand shake with unsurety. You’d always imagined death to be terrifying, but in Aemond’s arms, it felt like coming home.

And when the dagger plunged into your heart, all you felt were his arms around you and a whispered proclamation of love.

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mmelolabelle · 2 years

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turns out Rhaenyra’s ‘when in doubt, gaslight’ tendencies are an inherited trait, because Viserys straight up tried to gaslight the entire realm into thinking that his grandsons were Laenor’s bio kids

#say what you want #but viserys gives zero fucks about who his grandbabies’ father is #the man loves his daughter #my dad could never #shame about aegon and aemond but all your kids can’t be winners #viserys targaryen #viserys i #viserys i targaryen #rhaenyra targaren #hotd #house of the dragon spoilers #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #b

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months

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Could I request Aemond x a civilian reader that’s more or less been adopted into Rhaenyra’s family? Like she originally grew up on a farm of some sorts so she still has a lot to learn, a quick talker and often somethings blurting out things that she should think about before saying.

She’s with Jace and Luke when the family comes back for the lil “family reunion,” and ends up seeing Aemond for the first time during his training. She’s already been made aware of who he is, but she certainly isn’t expecting a hot blonde. Which prompts her to blurt out “you didn’t tell me your uncle was hot” during that tense little stare down. Everyone is mortified, but instead of being irrated, Aemond finds her boldness amusing, and her innocent oblivious quite cute. And having there own little dance alongside Hal and Jace during that rare moment of peace.

I just think Aemond deserves some love

The farm princess and the rough sapphire

Aemond x civilian reader warning : fluff, kiss, comfort, dysfunctional family, no use of Y/n Summary : In the entire Targaryen dynasty history, there has only been one record of an adoption from outside the family, a former civilian child now grown into the mockingly named Farm Princess finds herself with her adoptive sibling at the royal court and is not ashamed to admit her admiration and especially feelings for a certain one-eyed prince...where will this lead?

info : I'm so sorry that you had to wait so long dear anon i hope you like the story, it was really really fun to write and others too have fun reading and thank you for the request :)

ps : Aemond deserves every love and Jace+Hel were so cute

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dnyaste of the dragonrider family of the house of targaren was no millennia old, starting with Daenerys the dreamer, the woman who would change a whole continent in the future with their reign and the dragons the family brought with her.

From the initial three conquerors, the battles began within their own family and continued for more or less a century after Ageon's conquest until the reign of King Viserys, the first of his name, and his second wife Alicent.

Slowly they began to fporm themselves there, but this was a matter for the future, whereas his daughter, the jewel of the realm, had problems of her own in love and at court. The former friendship long forgotten, her kind heart had found feelings and emotions in motherhood when she gave birth to her first son Jacaerys, only a few years younger than his uncle Aegon, her half-brother.

But shortly thereafter, as the princess established her own lineage, uprisings began outside King's Landing, uprisings of renegades of savages ravaging the inhabitants, matters the crown would settle with common soldiers, except that they were not common people.

Wild dragons ravaged the land, and village after village came to claim their people, ,,We want compensation! Someone must do something!" cried the crowds of commoners and for the first time in history, the king was stricken by his illness, Rhaenyra turned away from her former friend, now queen, and her stepmother, the Targayren princess and heiress to the throne won the hearts of all as she flew to the burning remains on her golden dragon Syrax and took from them the one survivor.

Her adopted daughter, the third princess of the realm after Helaena, the farm princess, was given the title of a girl of the same young age as her son, but a child who had had different beginnings.

A girl who had looked at her with wide eyes and had given orders to Syrax to give to the dragon and Rhaenyra couldn't help but laugh, ,,You are quite a dragon" she is said to have said when she had put the child on her dragon and had gnawed the streets of King's Landing.

The people loved her new princess and treated her not only with love but also with hope for better times...but all this was a long time ago seconds, days, months and years turned into another decade and after a long time the naughty child grew into a pretty but not quite noble young woman.

,,Who needs dragons when you have the people and a pitchfork?" she had once said as she watched her brothers tame Vermax and Arrax and Aegon and Helaena also got their dragons, her mother had Syrax and her uncle had Caraxes even the princess Rhaenys had Meylys and her adoptive father had Seasmoke only she didn't have a dragon but somehow she didn't want one either.

She didn't have dragon blood, she wasn't even a bastard child she was adopted through her body so she knew the blood flowed from farmers who had been there for generations and were in the service of the crown she was the highest of the people on the streets but a dragon no.

,,Remember brothers, one should never underestimate the population like the ravens and the grain" she had said to Jace and Luce who were training the komandos with their dragons in Valyrian which she understood but hardly cared about how? She realized that she loved her family above all and was grateful to them.

Rhaenyra had saved her life, but politically or even family-wise she was worthless, ,,You are my daughter, my flame, my pretty dragon, don't you dare think otherwise" her mother always instructed her and gave her small gifts in the form of dragon or flame embroidered clothes and as much as she wore them for her family she also accepted the simpler clothes or those on which grain, wagons and other simple things were embroidered.

But as much as this life was beautiful, it was different when they went back to the city that had been the greatest for her since she could remember, ,,King's Landing! A disgusting city but my home!" she exclaimed as she clung to Rhaenyra's back as she flew towards the city with her mother she usually rode with the heiress to the throne her mother wanted to make her feel like a dragon at least and she enjoyed this with cheers and thankful hugs.

,,There's our home," Rhaenyra murmured and had to smile slightly when they flew over the dragon pit a few months later and landed there, but this was also quickly resolved and before the Targayren could pay attention to her daughter, the young woman had already disappeared on a horse she had been given as compensation for a dragon.

,,I'm in the inner courtyard, mother, don't worry!" she had shouted before the black horse had left and Rhaenyra could only shake her head slightly and face her family while her daughter searched for her brothers Jace and Luce.

It took a few minutes to get from the dragon pit to the inner courtyard, but on the way she was recognized by some of the inhabitants, who greeted her and enjoyed a little of the city's interior. It was really good to see familiar simplicity again and not always just Dragonstone, the castle of "her" ancestors, at least the ancestors who made everything possible for her.

With a grateful thought to her loving mother, however, she reached the courtyard and stopped her horse which was taken from her by a stable boy, but looking around she soon saw the crowd gathered around someone and she caught sight of two dark heads of hair, ,,Dragon tamer brothers! I've missed you!" she shouted stormily.

She hurried to the weapons display where she embraced her brothers, they had all grown older since the days of toys and wooden swords, they each carried real steel and she also preferred to have at least one bread knife hidden in her pencil, an old habit.

,,How nice that you're here, dear sister," Jace said and Lucerys nodded in agreement, the girl was thrilled to have someone else here, an adopted princess and three bastard children was a daring combination but they had somehow managed to keep the rumors at bay so far.

Just as she was about to vent about Jace's hair, she heard the clapping and tense murmuring and turned to the crowd standing around the two fighting, ,,Say, who's fighting there? " she asked and pointed with her finger, which was immediately taken down by Jace who tried to make them all look good, ,,Ser Criston Cole from the Kingsguard and our uncle Aemond" Luce said, who must have been watching the situation closely while his older brother was still at arms.

,,Aemond, you say," she murmured to her thoughts, vaguely remembering the quiet boy with whom she had spoken and played from time to time until they chased each other with earthworms and other crawling things and Alicent the queen stopped them because a peasant daughter should not play with a prince, but she did not stop her from going up and watching with her brothers. And what she saw amazed her.

Gone was the little boy, a young man stood there with long straight Targaryen light hair, a dark eye patch that hid the injury he had received from his brother. Fine sharp features and a lean but muscular body she could frame where the fabric allowed.

He was a god in her eyes, ,,You didn't tell me your uncle was hot," she simply spoke her thoughts openly as Aemond twirled the sword around as she was commanded to do so but his gaze, the gaze of his violet eyes was clear on her and the smile seemed almost pleased and amused at the same time.

A few of the crowd snapped indignantly at such vulgarity while Jace made himself small and Luce tried to hide slightly under his coat. So much for not doing anything.

But this seemed to be just the beginning when they were invited to a family dinner a few hours after the "incident" in the courtyard. Everyone was supposed to be on their best behavior, a time of peace in what was probably the last few months for her adoptive grandfather, her king, whom she never called her grandfather even though he had always insisted on it.

Viserys always had a smile for her, no matter when she told him about simple farm things or excitedly about armor, he liked his adoptive princess and did not despise her, ,,I am glad to see my family, my whole family here, living and happy like this, an old man who cares a lot," he finished his speech and even if he seemed to be in pain, it was something that made her smile, she was glad that Viserys thought he appreciated it and she held out a goblet to her king for the symbolic toast, which Aegon answered with an almost mocking laugh.

The prince had probably already poured too much into the cup anyway, she smelled his alcoholic fumes at several hundred meters and her comment, ,,Maybe you should be in a barrel instead of just the cup" only seemed to have pissed him off more and he gave her a warning look and tried her other family members instead.

While she had initially chatted with Baela and Rhaena about fishing and ships, she had given Lucerys courage as they drank and Jace had teased her about his hairstyle, she barely noticed the looks from the Queen, the Hand and Aegon. Looks of distaste, looks of no acceptance, ,,A truly exceptional round, Lord Husband," the brown-haired woman muttered, earning a warning look from Rhaenyra, who was about to stand up for her daughter when Jace slammed on the table over Aegon's comment.

The circle seemed to fall silent and again they didn't quite know what was going to happen next, ,,A round of peasant blood," Aegon muttered into his goblet, rolling his eyes and looking a lot more like his mother.

However, only seconds later he choked on it as the said farm princess threw a piece of bread at him and he looked like he was about to walk over to her when Aemond stood in his way and pushed his brother aside to get closer to the princess. She gave Aegon one last scowl of surprise before looking to Aemond in wonder, ,,Would my dear princesses dance with me?" he asked, seeming to want to join his sister and her nephews who were dancing.

Accepting his offer with a nod, ,,I'd love to, Aemond," she smiled at him dnakably and let herself be pulled out onto the open floor, about to start something wilder when she suddenly felt his other hand on her hip, paused, looked at him a little uncertainly and leaned towards him, ,,I can't do the Targaryen dance" she whispered and heard him smirk a little, seeing that he was no longer wearing an eye cap the darkness of his sapphire eye fascinated her and only made him look even more beautiful ,,Don't worry let me be your leading chariot" he said with a nod and seemed at least relieved that she didn't find him ugly like other ladies-in-waiting at the castle.

Relaxing, he began to move slightly, his own steps a veritable dragon dance as she guided the fire that seemed to be the sword he gently wielded around her, her dress making the movements look more fluid. ,,The sapphire suits you, Aemond," she murmured softly, feeling the brief twitch of his hand, his eye glancing briefly to the ground and lingering briefly on her lips before he thanked her as he spun her around and the two of them attempted a little dragon dance of their own, somewhat like Jace and Helaena.

Aemond with his polite dragon dance and she with her wild twirls and wide arm movements as they all danced together at the village festivals it was funny and their laughter could be heard over and over again as they touched hands and completely ignored the looks of the others that went from fascination to pride until the piece was over.

They both found each other one last time and held each other as the music became a little quieter again and they looked at each other, Aemond bowed and placed a kiss on the back of her hand, a gesture that made her heart beat faster and she stifled a giggle.

Before she simply responded, ,,Thank you my rough sapphire," she whispered and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before sitting back down and taking a large sip from her goblet to calm her nerves but at least she had behaved in her own way.

And who knows, maybe the farm princess would end up with a dragon after all, a rough dragon from Saphier who appreciated her wares and together they could form a kingdom of outsiders together in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #male x female #reader is female

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