#aemond targaryen one eye | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dolicekiss · 5 months ago

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Apple Of Their Eye

part two here

PAIRING: Dark! Aegon Targaryen X sister!reader X Dark!Aemond Targaryen

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni) incestuous relationship, dark!targaryen brothers, innocent virgin!reader, dubcon, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, handjob, riding, breeding, threesome, kissing, possessive behaviour, nipple play, throat fucking, drunk reader, praise, pretty much the targaryen brothers giving their sister sex lessons and claiming her as theirs.

SYNOPSIS: Being close to both your Targaryen brothers had its own perks. Drinking wine together, going horse riding and reading books. It was all a dream but when Aegon heard the talk of your betrothal, he decided it was finally time to taint you. What you didn’t expect was Aemond walking in on you indulging in your older brother’s sickly pleasures.

Giggles erupted from your lips when your sweet brother, Aegon made a weird face to encourage sweet giggles out of you. His favorite sound in the world, as he liked to address it. Your bond with both your brothers was something never seen before among house Targaryen. Fiercely loyal to each other, defensive and protective. You were the perfect trio of destruction — well, with a honeyed touch of peace.

That was your vital role.

To calm down the blood of the dragons.

You had grown so attached to one another that both your brothers denied the responsibilities of the throne, wishing to spend time with you.

You had to convince Aegon to sit upon the throne and he agreed in one go when his little sister asked for it. How could he not? You were looking up at him with such hopeful, glimmering eyes, those long lashes of yours coating the apple of your cheeks.

He often wondered if his bridled desires would break out of control one moon and find way to you?

Aemond entered the room, hand resting atop his sword as he analyzed the room, which was in shambles. You and Aegon again had enjoyed a pillow fight — pieces of feathers and cotton everywhere in the room. Pale sheets on the floor and wine spilled everywhere.

He was the youngest, yet he felt as though he was the oldest amongst you three. You and Aegon behaved like little children, even when you were younglings. Aegon and you would disturb the council members and pull hilarious pranks on them meanwhile Aemond paid them no mind.

“You two.” His voice put a hold to your giggles, your attention diverting to your brother. Your silky strands — similar to Aemond’s — were a mess. They reached your hips, only at such a young age and Aemond couldn't keep his one eye off the loose strap of your dress over your creamy shoulder.

Aegon smirked to himself, knowing well him and his brother shared their feelings about you.

You smiled at Aemond, a big grin of excitement adorning your soft, delicate features. “Aemond! Come here, have wine with us.”

He shook his head. “I have duties to tend to, sister. You carry on.”

Your lips formed a frown. “But Aemond, I miss you. You rarely ever spend time with Aegon and I. Do we bore you now, do you seek fun in planning war and those boring councils?”

Aegon nodded in agreement and Aemond shook his head, walking closer and taking a seat on the bed with you. Aegon had his head on your lap, staring at you with love sick eyes of a puppy. Your flushed state and rosette cheeks were a vision for Aemond — his callous hands aching to touch you.

“Aemond how can you neglect our beautiful sister here?” Aegon taunted, reaching out to wrap a finger around a strand of your silver hair and curl it. You smiled at him, cheeks round and Aemond swallowed. “I am not neglecting her, I am merely occupied with tending to my duties since no one else will.”

He diverted his one eye to Aegon and the older brother groaned, tugging on the single strand of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, lips puckering into a pout. “Aegon, stop it.”

“You shouldn't trust Aegon so much, sweet sister. He is all but a twat,” Aemond’s words made you turn to him and he looked away from you, not wanting his gaze to linger somewhere below where he was allowed. His own reluctance at being around you proved that he too struggled with the same demons his older brother did.

Aegon sat up now, eyes boring into Aemond’s. “And why shouldn't she? I pay her more mind, more attention than you ever would.”

“I trust him, brother. You should too, he's our king and he cares for me.” You softly spoke.

Your soft soothing voice was like the sun against their cold words. Aemond pondered late at night how their monstrous house got blessed with such a sweet little thing? Repentance was not something that came to house Targaryen — so why were they bestowed with you?

Your kindness, to the maids — the highborn ladies and even the members of the small council made you quite the perfect candidate for queen, especially when the realm loved and adored you. The sweet daughter of Viserys Targaryen, left behind to bring prosperity and love.

“Yeah, she trusts me.” Aegon said, scooting behind you. His chin nestled over the small cup of your shoulder, staring straight ahead with mischief in his gaze. “Don't you, sweet sister?”

You nodded, coyly.

He was almost taunting Aemond, being able to stay this close to you while he was busy with preparing for war. It was not fair, definitely to Aemond it was not. He inhaled a sharp breath as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck, accidentally pressing a kiss to your exposed skin. Your body shuddered and you quickly pulled away from him, staring at him in confusion.

Aemond felt a lump form in his throat.

Fuck, you were so innocent. Oblivious to the sick desires of both your brothers.

“Be careful, sister.” Aemond said to you, gesturing towards the other Targaryen brother. “You're too innocent for your own good.”

Then he got up, parting from your chambers, hoping that the next time he enters, he finds you all alone and not with that foolish brother of his. He did not harbor resentment towards Aegon necessarily, but ever since they were children, they fought. For a dragon, for toys and for your attention. It had been a constant battle of who'd bring you the prettiest flower first, who would be first to dance with you at feasts, who's horse you'd sit on and ride.

For everyone else it was draining but you relished the attention you got from your brothers. Enjoying each and every bit of the fight going on for you — only you didn't knew it went beyond the walls of brotherly love and they were horrifyingly obsessed with you.

Aemond had turned down every marriage alliance, not interested in securing the future of the realm if it came at the expense of being far from you. A woman would only act as a wall between the two of you and Aemond did not want any walls. He would gladly crush them, with or without the help of Vhagar.

You prepared another cup of wine to drink but Aegon was called to the council — arranged by the dowager Queen. Crestfallen, you let your brother go as he fixed his attire and departed from your chambers, after leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead.

As soon as Aegon entered the council room, he's greeted with everyone there. Each member and with a scowl on his face, he takes his seat. Evidently upset by having to leave his sister, even though he could go back to her at anytime.

“Your Grace.” Everyone greeted him, standing up and heads low. Aegon gestured them to sit and they obliged, following into their comfortable seats.

Alicent looked at the council members, knowing that the discussion they had come to would eventually upset the King. Everyone was hesitant and Aegon noticed that. He raised a brow, confused. “Are we here to stare at one another? If we are, do excuse me. I have pressing matters to attend to.”

Everyone knew pressing matters meant giving his undivided attention to his little sister.

“In order to secure house frey and gain access and control to the passage in riverrun, we think it would be best to form a marriage alliance with them.” Alicent’s words didn't actually hit Aegon how they were supposed to, as he grinned. “We cannot offer a dragon, we can offer a dragon.”

Assuming the marriage alliance was for Aemond, his younger brother not his little sister. “Great, it is about time Aemond finds himself a pretty bird too.”

He was cheerful. If Aemond was married, he would have your attention all to himself and he became overjoyed with that, a little too fast. Alicent swallowed, exchanging glances with the master of coin and the maester. Her hesitance was in existence because she did not know how maturely her son would handle to the news of sending his only sister away from him.

“Your Grace, the marriage alliance is for your sister, the Princess. House frey has suitors available and the Princess gets to choose with whom she wishes to ma—”

Aegon’s palms slammed down against the wooden table, rising up from the table. His gaze searing and his lips quivering from the sheer courage of Tyland Lannister’s, to marry his sister off without even inquiring him about it. The fact that they even thought of doing that filled him with a rage so overwhelming, he felt like burning the whole small council to the ground.

“That is my sister you're speaking of.” He reminded them. “I will have your fucking tongue for even suggesting to get her married off in the first place.”

The whole council flinched at the King’s outburst. Alicent had expected it to be a tantrum but this was more than a childish tantrum. The room was elevated with tension as Aegon panted, his body quivering from the rage coursing through his veins.

Alicent took a deep breath. “It is for the best, my King. You need to win this war and the Freys are demanding a dragon which we cannot provide.”

“So you give them my sister, like some fucking piece of coin?” He snapped, turning to her. “She is the princess of house Targaryen, my sister. I will not have you subject her to the same fate as all the other women.”

Aegon dismissed the council, walking out of there. Alicent sighed, holding onto tethered pieces of hope that maybe talking to Aemond about it would be better, since Aegon did consider him his closest blood and best sword. Little did she know she would be riling up another dragon and awakening it.

The next few hours were unbearable for Aegon. He had visited your chambers but you were nowhere to be found and when he asked your maids, he was told you'd gone out to collect flowers for the vase in your room. Countless times both your brothers had told you to either tell them or command the servants to bring you flowers — still you did what you felt.

Upon your return, you found your chambers not deserted. Aegon was there, situated on your bed. Hair a mess, tunic unbuttoned revealing his pale chest. Your brother was disheveled and you couldn't recall the time you two spent together being the cause of this.

So what had happened?

Worried and upset, you dropped the basket filled with flowers by the side of your door and walked over to him. Your purple dress, a match to your purple eyes, flowing behind like the waves of the sea. You sat next to your brother, small hands reaching out to cup his face in them.

“Brother, is everything alright? You seem upset.” You inquired and when Aegon raised his head, you saw just how devasted he appeared.

Devasted and drunk.

Your eyes noticed the cup in his hand, as well as the pitcher on the floor. Something happened at the small council, that much you figured out. But what had happened, now that was for Aegon to tell you.

Though your brother only stared at you, bringing the cup to your lips. “Drink, for me.”

You were in no mood for wine but you still obliged him, parting your lips and consuming the wine. The crimson tainting your lips red as you swallowed it, gulp after gulp. Even for you that was a lot and when you were finished, Aegon refilled the empty cup.

“Drink more.” It was a command.

You frowned. “Did I do something wrong, brother? Is this your way of reprimanding me?”

He stared at you, eyes droopy and full of glimmering lust for you — unbeknownst to you. “I want us to be drunk together, like old times. Please.”

You heard the plea in his voice and nodded, softening at the disheveled state your brother was in. You parted your lips to take sips as Aegon held the cup for you. He pushed it, more and more until the wine had overwhelmed you and drops spilled over your dress, trailing down your chin.

The red had absorbed into the purple but you finished your glass, staring at Aegon after the glass had been tore from your lips.

Aegon moved further into your soft bed, veiled by pellucid pale curtain and you followed, laying next to him. His head found comfort on your chest, a frown so evidently ceasing his features. Confusion had clouded your senses — hoping that your brother might tell you the cause of his distress.

But all he did was lay silently on your chest, feeling the soft plush of your breasts against his cheek.

Aegon swallowed the urge to press his mouth over your pebbles and suck them, burying his face deeper into your breasts. He was a mess and he knew that his mother would go against him, to secure more power and alliances with the other lords.

He could not let it happen.

He mouthed lazily at the chiffon, attempting to take a nipple of yours into his mouth. The purple fabric absorbed the saturation of his saliva, as your brother crossed all the limits between the two of you.

As if there were any to begin with.

“A-Aegon, what are you doing?” You whispered in a breathy gasp when he sucked on your peaked nipple through the cotton, his other hand moving to provide your other breast with attention.

Your back arched slightly and your breath quickened as your brother’s hands moved down to the laces which held your dress together. As drunk as you were, you still knew this was wrong yet had no control whatsoever of the situation. Once your laces were loosened enough, Aegon tugged at the sleeve of your dress and unveiled your breast.

“Brother, this is inappropriate. You're under the influence of wine, we should not—”

Aegon looked up at you with the softest look on his face, akin to a puppy. He switched his attention to the unattended breast of yours which he had uncovered, suckling on the nipple, fingers rolling the soaked one in between them. Your soft lips were parted and made the prettiest little sounds of pleasure foreign to you.

“I'm your brother, sister. If I don't deserve to have you like this when who does? Those fucking house frey suitors?” He snapped, voice fallen to a few octaves. Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, not being able to understand what he was insinuating with his words.

Your brows scrunched and your crinkles formed on your nose. “H-House frey, Aegon?”

He chose silence.

Aegon moved to lean up against the bed, his unbuttoned tunic revealing his bare chest beneath his small clothes. You watched him, your silver hair a mess — cascading beautifully down your shoulders and narrow back. Aegon patted his lap, a silent order for you to sit on it but you could only blink innocently.

Having no regards of such matters.

“Crawl to me, sister.”

You nodded, as puzzled as you were, slithering to settle yourself over your brother's lap. Both hands on his chest as your thighs sat over each side of his waist, looking down at him. This was all new to you but you were not complaining.

His hand extended to grasp your chin, pulling your face closer to him. He could see everything, all the subtle features which made you all the more beautiful. The mole neath your left eye, the way your pupils enlarged whenever you locked eyes with him, how your pretty lips quivered. “Today I will teach you how to make your brothers the happiest. You wish to learn, don't you sister?”

You eagerly nodded.

Aegon grinned. “Kiss me, my little dove.”

You obliged, pressing a kiss to his cheek and Aegon released a chuckle. In complete awe of the naivety you possessed. “Here, sister. This will make me and Aemond the happiest.”

You were hesitant with it but still leaned your head, pressing a subtle, feather light kiss to Aegon’s lips. His hunger was far from satiated as he stared at you with a hooded gaze, his blood heating up at the feel of your lips against his. He was over the moon with only a peck, he could only imagine the power of a proper liplock.

“Did I do good? Was that okay, brother?”

Aegon shook his head. “No, little dove. You have to do more, kiss more of my lips. Try to suck on them, yeah?”

You puffed out your cheeks, irritated at your own incompetence at making your brother happy. Still, you kissed him once more but this time like a baby bird trying to eat it's food with untrained beaks, you tried to suck on Aegon’s lips. Closing them around his upper lip, your saliva glossing his lips. Aegon’s cock stirred awake in his breeches at how inexperienced you truly were. An innocent girl getting ruined by her brother.

You closed your eyes, focusing at the task at hand. Aegon reached for your nape, locking it in place as he finally kissed you back. Soft kiss of yours evolved into something harsher, something more passionate and you whimpered, your endeavor to retreat declined by your brother. Your small hands nestled over his chest — trying to push him but it only strengthened the kiss, Aegon trying to drown in the sweet nectar.

“Open your mouth, little dove.” Your endeavor to speak was mistaken as consent by your brother, his tongue running over the edge of your perfect teeth — making way to your tongue. He wrapped around the wet muscle and began to suck on it, the saliva dripping from your mouth and slipping into his. Light headed you had become due to the vigorous kiss and how your brother dominated your mouth with his tongue.

Aegon soon broke the kiss and allowed you a few moments of air, staring at how swollen your lips had become. He had tasted you and it only fuelled his desire more for you. To claim you and never let anyone else's sight fall upon you. Heart fluttering at being the first man ever to put his cock inside you.

“This is what good sisters do for their brothers.” He said to you, his hands rested on your thighs and thumbs swiping across the pale skin. “You're such a good girl, my Princess. You'd do anything for your King, won't you?”

You nodded your head impatiently, doe eyes looking into your brother's purple ones. Chest falling and rising, sharp intakes of breath breaking through the silence. Aegon smiled and that was the biggest achievement for you, ever. He lifted one hand from your thigh, taking your small hand into his. Aegon loved how your petite hand disappeared into his — a perfect size you were for him.

He wondered in that very moment how you'd look taking Aemond’s cock into your small mouth, considering he was bigger than the both of you. Taller, toned from the constant training of wielding a sword. The thought of both of them taking you at once riled him up like nothing else.

Aegon brought your hand to his crotch, laying it over it. Your coy eyes widened. “B-Brother.”

“Unlace my trousers, sister.” Albeit it was an order, his tone was soft. You had never seen such a dark look in your sweet brother's eyes, violets always glimmering with excitement and happiness.

You were hesitant at first, reluctance dripping from the way your shivering fingers pulled at the soft laces which tightened his trousers. Aegon watched with a curious gaze, knowing very well he was about to defile his little sister and ruin the innocence she so wholeheartedly showcased. It almost made him sad but this was necessary, to wed you to him. Or even Aemond.

He couldn't care less who you married as long as it was one of them.

With bated breath, you loosened his trousers and then looked at him for further instructions.

“Pull out my cock, sister. You should feel something hard, that is my cock.” Your silver lashes fluttered, fingers getting to work. The second you felt something hard, skin but rigid — you grasped it to free it. Aegon hissed upon your cold touch and you retreated, feeling bad.

He was quick to reach for you. “No, no. Do not worry, for I am fine. You shall continue.”

So you did, given the reassurance, your gaze focusing on the unclothed cock of your sweet brother. Aegon reached for your hand and wrapped it around his own cock with your neath it. “I need you to move your hand, sister. Pursue my actions, this will truly please me.”

Aegon began to move his hand in slow, sensual strokes and you followed. The more you touched him, the more he lost his composure. Little sounds falling from his parted lips and his hand fell to the side over his thigh — letting you take the lead. You picked up your pace, hand undulating over his throbbing length.

Palm stained with his precum, you used it to slick his twitching cock and then moved your fingers up. A shuddered gasp of fulfillment slipping from Aegon’s mouth upon that accident. You smiled, in victory and pressed the pad of your thumb deeper into his little hole. Watching as more of the pale liquid spurted out.

The more you stared at it, the prettier you found it — shade darker than the rest of him and cock head the same pink as his agape lips. Varicose veins, a deeper hue of purple than the ones of your irises embedded in neath the flesh.

Eyes sparkling at the thought of touching Aemond in the same way, getting to see such an intimate part of him. You wished he was here, to be able to do this for him would be a great blessing.

Your mouth watered the more you gazed at your brother's glistening cock head. Without paying much mind to it, you leaned lower and closed your lips around it. Aegon’s eyes immediately snapped open when he felt the warmth your mouth provided and stared down at you.

“Oh, Gods.” He groaned, almost a whine. “Who taught you this, my sister? Have you engaged in such acts before?”

You quickly backed away, shaking your head with a guilt ridden face. “No, Aegon. I am so very sorry if this was something I was not supposed to do. I promise I have never done this before, I promise. I swea—”

“Hey,” Aegon whispered, caressing your face with his large hand. “I believe you. You see I do not wish for you to get involved like this with someone else. It is only right if you do it with me, and Aemond.”

You nodded your head understandingly. “I would love for you to continue, my little dove but right now I need something more. Could you give it to me, my sweet girl?”

“Yes, brother. Anything my King wants.” You smiled, lips shimmering with his residual and Aegon’s cock twitched.

He pulled you on his lap once more, hands on your waist. Then the pair dropped lower to your bare thighs and Aegon bunched up your dress, revealing your unclothed, bare pink cunt. You were never too fond of wearing small clothes under your dresses — summer of Westeros unbearable for a delicate thing like you.

He licked his lips deliciously.

“Just as you touched me, I have the full right to touch you too. You understand?” You nodded like an obedient student, stomach churning in anticipation for your brother's next move.

Aegon pulled you closer rather harshly by your thighs and your shoulders went slumped, feeling his head brush against your pearl. Your eyes widening at the electrifying contact. “I need to do this in order to make my cock fit inside you, so be a good girl and let me, okay?”

“Yes, brother.” You whispered, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Aegon’s fingers moved to your cunt, running in the center of your soaked folds. He found it amusing how you had no idea of the pleasures taken between a man and a woman yet your body had reacted like this, cunt drenched and wet. He knew your maidenhead was still intact, after all he rarely ever let you be in the presence of someone else.

If Aegon was occupied, it would be Aemond who would linger around you like a new born shadow.

They knew how innocent you were, how fucking naive and monsters lurked in the red keep. You needed their protection more than the people of the realm. Careless they were about the iron throne, Aegon wished to fuck you on it before properly ascending it.

“Oh.” Your eyes slightly rolled back at the way your brother caressed your folds, pinching your pink pearl. “You've got such a beautiful cunt, my sister. I am sure you will put it to good use to make your brothers happy, won't you, little dove?”

Eager you were to please them.

They had brought you everything, anything your heart had ever desired. Allowed you to ride their dragons with them, brought you the most beautiful gifts from the north and drowned you in lannister gold. Both brothers even went as far as getting you jewelry from Dorne since Aemond caught you complimenting a dornish necklace.

Aemon’s thumb prodded at your bud, swirling it around, watching how your face contorted in pleasure. Lids fluttering shut and head thrown back, fingernails digging into your brother's chest. You were a fucking sight, all disheveled. With his other hand, he entered a finger into you and your pleasure-clad face evolved into one of pain.

“Ow,” you complained at the sting of being stretched out. “Aegon, that hurts.”

“I know, my Princess but you mustn't rush. I will bring you pleasure soon, it is a promise.”

You believed him, waiting out the sting as Aegon fully sunk his finger into you. Driving it in and out of you, all the while rubbing your swollen attention seeking bud. Your expressions were the prettiest, the most breathtaking and he questioned himself why did he not do this earlier?

Just what was stopping him back?

He was the fucking King, goddamnit. He could have you whenever he wanted and you would give yourself up to him, everytime. Just like right now how you were serving yourself up to him on a silver platter like those animals during feasts.

“Brother, oh my god. This feels weird, I feel weird.” You whimpered, hips moving on their own accord over your brother's fingers and Aegon licked his lips, furthermore sinking his canines into his lower lip.

Aegon added another without warning and you whined out, a loud one which made him reach over and press his palm over your lips, sealing them shut. “As much as I absolutely adore your sounds, we should not let anyone find out.”

You nodded, and Aegon removed his hand, letting you breathe. You decided to keep it blow but everytime Aegon would move his finger inside you and you would feel it run at your gummy unclaimed walls, little whimpers would escape you. Feeling his fingers curve up and rotate, hitting into a spongy spot of which’s existence you too were unaware of, you cried out.

Aegon smiled.

That was enough preparing.

Aegon pulled out and you gasped when he brought his lips to his mouth, sucking on your sweet arousal.

He wanted to take you on your back but that was how he took his whores. He would never let them sit on top of his thighs and look at him like this — all dolled up yet disheveled. You were his sister, the apple of his fucking eye and Aegon was not going to take you like some whores.

They existed to keep his sick desires for you at bay, but he knew after this, he would not be needing them anymore.

“This is going to hurt, sister but worry not, I assure you I am right here. It shall feel better soon, just like with my fingers.” His comforting words and soft tone helped with your trepidation — allowing your brother to raise your hips and align his cock with your drenched hole.

Aegon allowed you to sink down on him and when his head breached your entrance, a sting worse than before spread like a virus, consuming your whole being. Your eyes welled up with tears and your lips quivered, a brusque tremor awakening in your petite hands. He was quick to come to your rescue, holding both your hands and leading the pair to his nape, making you latch onto him for support.

“Here, hold me. As tight as you can, my little dove and carefully slide down. Be careful and gentle, alright? No rush here.” He continuously comforted, guiding you and you nodded, inhaling a deep and brief breath.

Then you sunk more, his girth expanding your hole. Little movement and reassuring words from your brother helped you take the entirety of his cock and when your ass finally met his thighs, Aegon groaned. You felt his cock twitch inside you and your hold around his nape tightened. The pain was throbbing and hot — consuming your whole being but the fact you were so full with your brother's cock, contempt, you let out a drunk giggle.

Short on breath but still, you smiled at Aegon.

While you two descended deeper into forbidden pleasures, Aemond had gotten free time to come see you.

After intense sword training and back and forth of sharing strategies of the war with Ser Criston Cole, Aemond had found his feet switching route — bringing you to the hallway where your chambers were located. As he walked, with each step, he felt extreme excitement build up in his stomach. Finally having enough time to spare you a visit and get drunk, bask in your presence.

He hoped that Aegon would not be there as he wanted you all to himself, especially for tonight.

Upon opening the door to your chambers, the view before him left him astonished and there were rarely many things that left Aemond Targaryen astonished. He was quick to close the doors, not wishing for anyone to come across the Princess’ bed chambers and witness such sin.

His hands formed into fists — how you sat on top of Aegon, hips oscillating in a sensual manner. Too sensual for someone as innocent as you and he knew Aegon had managed to ruin and defile the only pure thing about house Targaryen. Yet fucking again. You two were so indulged and far gone in your pleasures that Aemond’s presence was barely noticed.

But then Aegon caught his brother's tall figure by the door.

“Oh brother, welcome.” He called out, although it was more of a moan and you turned to look at Aemond.

Your cunt tightened at Aegon when gaze laid over your brother, the one you missed the most since he barely had time to spare. Aegon let out a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head at his brother. “You will not fucking believe it but our sister's cunt became more tight upon seeing you.”

Aemond’s teeth gritted. “Mittys, that is our sister.” (Fool)

“Do not pretend as if you have not wished to do this more than I have.” He voiced it out, hand pressing into your waist. You whimpered as Aegon made you move on his cock and by now the pain had subsided, pleasure coming in to take control. You began to roll your hips over his thighs, eyes locked with Aemond.

You needed him too, your eyes screamed for him to come closer and as if you had telepathically communicated, Aemond sauntered towards the bed.

You whined when Aegon pushed his hips up, breaching furthermore of your cunt. “Aemond.”

Aegon was inside you but you were moaning for Aemond and the older brother did not even find it upsetting. Rather his cock hardened even more — if possible, hearing you whine and ache for your younger brother with such need. He did not mind sharing you with Aemond, as long as he could have his fill of you too.

“A-Aegon said I could make you both happier like this. I want to, I love you. You're my brothers.” You expressed your profound love for them, nodding your head as Aemond slipped of his leather gloves. He tossed them aside and reached for your hair, taking a strand and curling it around his finger. His nose catching a whiff of the perfumes and oils you were basking in, yet the natural scent of roses was enough to drive him fucking crazy.

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder. Eye following the stretch mark trailing down to your breasts and the stretched flesh made him realize that you had grown. You were not a little girl anymore but you were still their little sister. Your rosy nipples were peaked — demanding attention and Aemond hissed.

His own cock bulging against his leather slacks and Aegon saw it.

Aegon moved inside you, thrusting up and you lost composure. Lips breaking apart to let out the most feminine sounds, silver strands glued on a perspired forehead as Aemond watched you bounce on his brother's cock with vigor. Your fingernails had dug into Aegon’s nape and tears sat beautifully like pearls in your waterline.

It was evident that you were sensitive, nothing like the common whores.

“Does she not look fucking beautiful, bouncing on her big brother's cock like that?”

Aemond wanted to punch Aegon but he was not wrong. You did look celestial, out of this world with how you bounced up and down on his cock, trying to desperately please him.

Aegon rolled his eyes at Aemond. “Are you only going to just watch? I have taught her things, with her hand and mouth. Be a dear and show him, sister.”

Like a trained puppy, you were quick to oblige, hands extended to work gracefully over Aemond’s leather slacks. You undid them, pulling at the leather and he watched how eager and desperate you were. Hands moving with a significant tremor.

“Aemond,” he raised his eye from your hands to your face. “may I please have you in my mouth?”

If the offer had crawled to him on its fucking fours with the most precious doe eyes, who was he to deny? He, too was a man at the end and had perpetually craved you the same as Aegon. Only he was subtle with his desires.

“Yes, my sweet sister.” Aemond whispered, staring at you. His consent made you flourish like the moonlight, bright and glowing right in his face.

Aegon decided it would be better to switch positions and he pulled out, bringing you on all your fours and giving space to Aemond against the bed headboard. He shifted, sprawled out before you, leather slacks and small clothes long gone. In the process, Aegon had stripped himself bare too but the brothers wanted you to not remove the dress.

Just how easily they had access to you despite the dress, it enticed them.

With Aemond’s cock in your hand, you came to a conclusion that his was the prettiest. It was longer than Aegon’s but had almost the same girth. Protruding veins embedded inside the pale skin, his balls hot and throbbing with an ache. You looked up at him and smiled and all Aemond could do was return it and fucking melt.

“Aemond, remove your eye patch. I want to see you whole.” You voiced out your desires and he reached for the eye patch, sliding it off and tossing it aside. The sapphire sparkled like crazy in his eye and you had always found it to be the most coolest and breathtaking thing about Aemond.

Having less of a part than the others did not make him less human too.

Though he appeared more like a god. The fire from the fireplace casting a soft golden glow over both brothers, leaving them heated with pent up desires.

Aegon had already pummeled his cock back into you, not after witnessing the blood staining his length. Testament of your chasity staining him fully and his wanton for you only grew more. You pressed a little kiss to Aemond’s tip — watching him with your deer like purple eyes and he hissed, hand moving to interview with your silver strands.

Eventually you wrapped your lips around his head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth while using your hand to stroke the rest which failed to fit. All while Aegon drove himself deeper inside your sweet, innocent cunt, drawing pathetic little whines out of you.

Aemond groaned, fingers tightening around your roots when the vibrations from your moans sent waves of electricity straight into his loins. You choked when he breached your throat, sputtering around him. Drool and cum glistening around your mouth. Your younger brother sighed pleasure, primary focus of his one eye.

“Messy little girl,” he taunted, the fluids dripping from your chin.

Aegon nestled his cock over and over into your sweet spot, urging you to reach your peak and unravel. “L-Look at her. So fucking obedient and pliant. I want to watch her stomach swell up with my babe. That way mother won't try to marry her off to someone else, some fucking riverrun lord.”

Aemond’s attention snapped to his brother's words, and Aegon only nodded. Letting him know that they were close to losing their sister but not anymore. The sweet dove was tainted, used and claimed. Even if their mother tried to marry her off, she was already tainted by her brothers and no lord would want her. That pleased both Aemond and Aegon.

“Gods, what a blessing you are.” Aemond praised you, highly, palm pressing deeper on your head, encouraging you to take him deeper and you did. His head sliding into the confines of your tight, wet throat. “Perfect little girl, a cocksleeve.”

With each thrust from Aegon, your body moved forward against Aemond’s. A sweaty mess of pleasure and bodied you three were but that did not matter. Aegon felt his peak near, tethering onto it and soon he finished inside you after delivering harsh, potent stutters of hips into you. Your cunt tightened, sucking him in, like a vice.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Like that, little dove, take me in, all of me. Milk me fucking dry, let me breed you so you carry my silver haired children.”

Aemond didn't mind his brother having you first and defiling you, since he pretty sure had your throat first. You were theirs and that's all that mattered. Gagging sounds reverberated in the room along with strong sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your peak danced around too, and when Aemond fucked his cock harshly into your throat, you squeezed around Aegon’s cock and came all over. Tears splurging out, making a mess on your face.

Your whole body twitching from the intense climax. Thighs shaking and sensitivity heightened. Followed by your release, Aemond pursued. Release spurts of white into your mouth, spending fully inside you. Yet he did not unhand you, holding your head in place to fuck his hot load into your mouth.

Once he was done, he pulled out and grasped your chin, peeking inside. “Swallow it whole, Princess.”

And you did. Gulping down the remnants of his spend.

Your head, tired from being in one position, laid right on Aemond’s bare thigh. Aegon was still inside you and when he pulled out, he saw your gaping hole spurt out his white residual. Parts that failed to reach your womb but it did not matter. He would breed you over and over again until you were to end up with his child.

Or Aemond’s.

As long as it was a silver haired babe.

“A-Are you happy now?” You asked, a question for both of your brothers and Aemond nodded his head, running his slim fingers in your hair.

Aegon crawled upto you, laying next to Aemond. A subtle smile playing at his lips, eyes hooded and body weary from all the hard work. “Very happy, little dove. We could not have asked for a better sister.”

Your pale flushed skin reddened as Aemond moved you, bringing you closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. Aegon admired the two of you, pleased with the fucked up dynamics of his family. This was a pleasure he could not have found or ever would find in the bed of a whore. You were the apple of their eye and they could not let you go, even if it meant restoring to such methods.

Your hands cupped your younger brother's face, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

Aemond had expected it to be a gentle peck but it grew needy and hasty, exactly how Aegon had taught you. Your lips suckling on his like a babe, trying to pry his mouth open and meet your tongue with his. You seemed addicted, desperate to kiss your younger brother the same way you had kissed your older. The kiss grew heated as Aemond opened his lips, finally taking control and dominating your mouth.

You whimpered, and Aemond could taste the residual of his orgasm. It did not phase him as he continued relishing in the sweet kiss, feeling your cunt beginning to rut against his already hardening cock.

When you broke the kiss, Aemond admired you before shifting his attention to Aegon who had a nasty grin on his face. “You're responsible for this.”

“Proudly. Only had to teach her once and look at how she's already sucking on your lips like it's a fucking cock.” He cheered, reaching over to pinch your cheeks. You giggled and hugged your younger brother, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

The three of you did not leave your chambers that night while the whole of red keep searched endlessly for the sword, the King and the maiden.

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alysrivers-xo · 6 months ago

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YOUR BROTHER IS HALF DEAD AND YOU’RE SERVING FACE?!??!??!!?!

#house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #hotd #aemond targaryen #team green #aemond one eye #ewan mitchell #prince aemond

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barbieaemond · 9 months ago

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Like mother, like son

based on this post by @terrorofthetrident

#hotdedit #mommy's war criminal #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #tuserlivia #hotd #house of the dragon #welighttheway #ewan mitchell #olivia cooke #houseofthedragonedit #queen alicent #prince aemond #aemond one eye #dailyhotdgifs #gameofthronesdaily

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venmondiese · 5 months ago

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LITTLE BOX FULL OF SURPRISES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

based on this request⭑.ᐟ

-ˋˏsummary: The maimed one-eyed prince marries the most beautiful woman on earth. She is dutiful, beautiful and perfect, but Aemond can't stand when someone, specially his uncle, look with desire at what it is his. ✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original Female Character ✧word count: 3.1k ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones, face slapping, spitting on the mouth, degradation kink, possesive Aemond, Aemond is WHIPPED by his wife.

Every time his grandsire and his mother spoke of a Lady of great beauty coming to King’s landing, he rolled his eye.

Even when they present a small portrait, small to fit his palm, he does not seem impressed. Perhaps it is too small, perhaps it is too pretentious. Either the painter exaggerated your features or he couldn’t properly paint a small portrait. But he was curious, after all. Named the most beautiful woman on earth, blessed by the Gods.

He doesn’t doubt that Lady Tully was beautiful. Perhaps she was truly a beautiful woman, with her long red hair, ‘like fire’ said the letter. But being called The Maiden on Earth seems exaggerated to him.

His grandsire had told them about the implications of his betrothal, about how important it was to have secured the Riverlands, since Grover Tully was an old lord, and will not understand reason. To have his most beloved granddaughter as a princess, was the only way to win his approval, and support.

Aemond finally meets her on the little garden near the Weirwood tree. They had been serving little cakes, as some lords and ladies talked nearby, not even half of court was here, and he liked the quietness. That made him less self-conscious.

She was near the table, her hand hovering above all the treats she could get, smiling as she watches them with interest. She is expressive, he realises. He hasn’t seen her face, only her back and the day her hand moves and her head is tilted, curious about the southern gastronomy.

“My lady” Aemond says softly.

She turns so gracefully, and she is surprised to see him. Her hand still extended, and she quickly moves it to grab her skirts, and do a courtesy to him. She has a sweet smile, and she speaks.

“My prince” she says, a bit surprised. “I… I didn’t expect you.”

“I must admit I came a bit earlier than agreed…” he murmurs, looking behind him and then back to her.

The most beautiful maiden on earth fell short to her. She was… something else, in the best way possible. She had that curiosity, that life in her eyes, as she smiles at him, her lips are perfect, and he could see that her maids probably used those Myrish lip taints, for they were a very natural red colour, almost matching with her hair. Her dress was magnificent, wearing the colour of her house, red and blue decorating everything. Even her eyes, blue like the opaque blue rivers in the Riverlands, and her hair, red like flames, matched with her house colours. She wore fish details, her earrings and in her dress pattern. But she was wearing a collar with a seven pointed star in it, and he sighed at her beauty. She was breathtaking.

“Oh, well, so it seems…” she says as she smiles a bit sheepishly, looking at him. “It’s a fine castle, my prince. It does have its own beauty.”

Aemond has never thought of the red Keep as something beautiful, at all. He always wanted to live in Dragonstone, but his wish was not granted. But, if she says so, it must be true, and with good reason.

“You think so?”

She grabs a lemon cake, and eats it carefully as she nods. “Yes! And you also have a Weirwood tree here. When we made our trip here, we passed through Raventree, and their Weirwood was a bit… depressing…” she says, smiling sweetly. “But here it’s very beautiful. More… alive”

As she talks, he watches her closely. Even when his mother, his sickly father and his siblings arrive, when his mother gives him a scolding look for arriving earlier, he sort of watches you in silence, his chest swelling with an air of mystery.

“You are not what I expected” he admits, quietly between the two of them as their parents talked about the betrothal.

“No?” She asks smiling, licking her finger from the cream of the lemon cakes. “You’ll see I’m a little box full of surprises”

That’s the beginning.

A ceremony on the Sept, as she stood next to him, reciting vows and the cloak with dragon sigils is on her shoulders, left behind the fish one. Aemond has never looked so smug and proud. The bedding ceremony was… traditional. Having a crowd was awkward for both, surely, but Aemond made it all more comfortable for her, covering her body with his, and not exposing her, at his own expense.

“Just focus on me” He murmurs closely to her face, as she looks at him with wide eyes. He was between her open legs, and he insisted for her to keep her chemise on, while he had no problem in nudity “Your septa and mother could have told you…”

“Not much” She whispers back.

“Not much” he repeats, moving a strand of hair out other face, tenderly watching her face for discomfort. “But I will be gentle, and… we’ll learn together. Yes?”

“Yes. Thank you…, husband” she says, and he feels a prideful pressure on his chest. He was her husband. The most beautiful woman’s husband.

And she was always thankful for his patience and gentleness towards her, and she stuck to him to all times, even when she was in court, charming everyone around. Her arm was always interlocked with his, and referred to him as ‘her sweet husband’.

Love came quieter than expected, as they laughed on their bed at nights, having picnics in the gardens or going to the Riverlands in Vhagar together, swimming on Riverrun’s rivers, and just… enjoying each other. It was more than love when they had their first son, a lovely and happy baby, mismatched eyes, with both purple and a deep blue. Aemond adored his son, his little Daerion, and he adored you more.

“Black looks well on you” Aemond comments.

Daerion’s blabbing was a way to agree with Aemond’s statement as the maid finished putting on her headband, the same tone of her dress. Her orange hair is in braids, two simple ones with some gold details on them, and some dragon earrings that he gifted her. She was gorgeous, and all his.

“Your wardrobe hasn’t changed” she states looking at him. “Went from velvet black to dark black”

Aemond walks over to his wife, watching her being just so beautiful like that, sitting, waiting peacefully like a porcelain doll.

“Mhm... As if changing colours would make everything amicable…” Aemond murmurs, taking Daerion in his arms, and he allows him to play with his hair. “Does father know it’s useless? Rhaenyra wearing green won’t change anything, nor will my mother wearing black. HIs voice comes as a grunt as he bounces their baby.

“It’s foolish when you put it that way” her voice is tender, sweet, and somewhat like velvet. He is still besotted by her, as maidens do with knights. He watches the shape of her breasts on that dress, how the cleavage is so delightful for his eyes and the roundness of her tits that make the fabric around stretch a bit. As if the tailor always got the measurement of her chest wrong on purpose, which he won’t complain about.

Her bright red hair contrasts with how the black makes her skin look paler, and her eye colour deeper.

“They shouldn’t call you the Maiden herself anymore” Aemond murmurs softly, walking closer to her, still holding Daerion in his arms. “You are like the mother herself. Like the Goddess Syrax of Old Valyria. Beautiful, strong… so alluring…”

“You never seem to run out of compliments” her hands move to grab her rings, and the one he likes the most is the sapphire one, just to symbolise her marriage to him.

“Never, more so if a goddess like you is my wife. All mine…”

“My prince, my lady.” It’s a Kings guard who interrupts. “Supper is ready, and Queen Alicent asks for you both to arrive earlier…”

“Hm” Aemond says, leaving Daerion in the wet nurse’s arms.

“Thank you, ser Willis” the knight smiles at his wife before walking to wait outside the door.

He rolls his eye as he leans to kiss his son’s forehead, caressing his chubby cheek and he smiles fondly at his sight. The little freckles he has that he inherited from his mother, something that Aemond loved. Yet remembering how unnecessary kind his wife is… annoys him.

Kindness and sweetness only helped to enhance her beauty and popularity, and he also loved that. She was beautiful, perfect in any way, tied to a One-Eyed maimed monster, like him. All he could offer to you, that it was worthy, was the luxuries of the royalty, all the kids you want and his unconditional love. He was at your mercy.

He has one eye, but he is not blind. Any man here on the keep, would pull their breeches down if his wife asked so. They would even cut their own throats for her mere delight, and Aemond would be one of them.

“Goodbye, my sweet love” the sweet motherly tone makes little Daerion squeal happily, extending his little arms for his mother. She kisses both his hands, later to wave to him as they leave the room, arms interlocked.

Aemond always bites his tongue when his lady wife is kind to men. He hates it, yet he knows she does it for the kindness of her heart, and not any ulterior motives.

He was smitten for her, moving the chair for her to sit, and helping her, her dress not getting stuck anywhere or her headpiece, and only then, he sat on his own seat at peace.

“I heard they might have some goose” she murmurs to him, as the room fills. Her fingers caress his arm, and he hears her every word. “I’d eat it all if I could, you know” she teases.

“Mhm.” Aemond murmurs. Even if he is besotted, his facade is still the same; stoic, cold, distant. Yet to her, his gaze was always loving.

“I would only share it with you” she states proudly, leaning to give him a peck on the lips, before standing up once the King is brought to the room.

As he stands, he doesn’t miss how his uncle watches her. Aemond might not know the man personally, but he knew the look of desire in a man’s face. Much more when they looked at her

The supper is mostly… tense, and awkward. But Lady Tully is charming to everyone and even toasts as well for Baela and Rhaena in their betrothal, congratulating them and speaking nothing but wonders about her own married life, making Aemond wear the slightest, yet most smug smirk on his face.

“Amazing” she says, with her mouth full as she eats the goose, and Aemond nods, a hand rubbing her back so she doesn’t choke for eating so quickly. “Here, my love” she says, extending the fork with a bit of the goose that she adores so much.

Aemond eats shamelessly, enjoying the taste as he nods softly, approving, which makes her smile. His hand resting on the back of her chair, as he drank his wine quietly, watching his sister and nephew go to dance together. He is highly unaware of the prying eyes that watch them both.

Helaena and Jacaerys’ giggles and the movement of her dress is enough for lady Tully to watch curiously. Her husband was not one for dances, as he had not a good perception of objects with one eye. She never pressured him, and accepted the fact.

She always would say how Daerion once he would be tall enough to walk, she’d dance with her son all the songs and dances, and Aemond approved that idea.

“Lady Tully” It was Daemon Targaryen’s deep voice, and she looks at him a bit surprised, leaving her fork on the table as she covers her mouth, her hand unconsciously fetching wine, which Aemond hands her his.

“Prince Daemon” her melodic voice is a bit confused, and more so when the uncle of her husband extends his hand. The green fabrics from his suit are deep, yet he still wore dragon details on it, and he looked smug about it.

She turns to watch Aemond, his jaw tensing as he looks at Daemon. And he has to physically stop himself from cutting his uncle’s throat when his wife walks with him to join Helaena and the bastard. Aegon and he share a look, both upset and annoyed, as their wives are so freely dancing with other men.

Aemond watches her beautiful face, frowning as Daemon talks about something, whispering it closely so no one else hears it. His grip on the edge of his seat is strong; knuckles’ turning white as his jaw is tense, not looking pleased at all. And then, he hears her warm laugh, giggling at what he said, as her whole face brightened up.

Once they serve the pig in front of him and hear the little bastard giggles, it is enough to send him through a fit of rage.

He literally drags his wife by the arm after everything went downhill, after saying that stupid toast, after the Velaryon’s boys attempt to defend themselves (very badly) and both her husband and her good brother humiliate them.

“Dancing with him” Aemond murmurs, walking to their shared chambers, not minding seeing the servants stop and look at them both. “Accepting it, and giggling to his jokes as he shamelessly flirts with you”

“It was politeness...” her voice is weak when protesting.

“Did he mocked me for having only one eye?” He asks roughly. “Did he told you how beautiful your are and how full your breasts are?”

She opens her mouth a bit taken aback by his lewds remarks. “I am dutiful to what it’s expected of me. I wouldn't have allowed him to mock you”

“You should…”

“My family’s words are Family. Duty. Honour. And you know I care for that very deeply.” she says as she tries to keep up with his long steps “And I did just what was asked…”

“You are mine” he states, walking inside his chambers as his grip does nothing but become stronger. “My wife and you are… putting yourself in display for my uncle, laughing at his flirting. I know your family words are important for you, but this is… beyond that”

Perhaps it was her confused eyes or her angelic face, but he loosened up his grip yet he kept talking.

“He wanted you! To have you below him and fuck you like a… wench or… or some kind of…”

“I know”

Aemond turns drastically, eye twitching at his wife's words.

“You knew?”

“It was being cordial. It was duty. To amend broken ties…”

“I will break and burn and turn into ashes any ties from you to him” he says exasperated, insane with jealousy. His eye is wide, twitching in rage as he cannot believe this. She was his wife.

Seeing Daemon’s hand grip on her hip, almost groping her, made him insane. Because he knew that Lady Tully, beautiful as the Maiden, a beloved goddess amongst the poor and rich, could do so much better than him. Yet, she still chooses him.

“Get naked” he says simply.

“What?”

“You heard me just right. Get. Naked.” He says again, not wanting a negative.

Her whine is endearing, as she starts taking off little by little. Her gown, the diminutive buttons at the back, her collar, and her hellish headpiece.

“Let me” he grumbles as he helps her take off the headpiece, tossing it aside more carefully.

She is possibly the most beautiful when she is naked. Round breasts, even fuller thanks to lactating, and her body was tempting enough to anyone.

“Undress me” he says instead. He took delight when she was the one serving him, in this way. He loved to see her desperation, her eagerness for him. His jerkin is out in no time, and she kneels to undo his breeches.

Because she had an angelic face, but it was only he who knew how obsessed she was with his cock. She could spend hours lying on the bed, sucking his cock as she rested her head on his abdomen as Aemond read. She wouldn’t even suck him off properly, his wife would only suck the tip, give kitten licks, and lazily press some kisses. During hours and hours.

“I forbid you to speak to any one of them. Ever again”

Confused eyes turned up to look at him, as the careful hands undid his breeches, almost a bit eagerly. “Forbid?”

“Hm. It’s what I said, is it not?” He says, narrowing his eye as if asking to be defied.

“But it’s mad” she protests, frowning. “I promised Jace and Baela a tour in the gardens, and it would be impolite if I didn’t spoke-”

“Too bad” his voice cuts the conversation, and he is not leaving it up for conversation.

“You are being irrational...”

“And you are being a fucking brat” he spats, grabbing her chin as he bites his lower lip. “I’ll show you how irrational I can get”

Her eyes watched him, almost too innocent for her own good. It made him hard; he could feel his cock stirring on his untied breeches.

“Fucking slut, giving yourself to other men” his tone is harsh, but by the way her knees move, to accommodate the weight as he grips her chin, he knows that she is aroused. So is he.

Lady Tully was beautiful, and a box of surprises with everything, he realised with time. He had everyone trapped under her charms, and kept her secrets very private. And he loved it.

“Whore.” His hand leaves her chin, only to move it to slap her across the face.

She gasps, her face turned. It wasn’t harsh, yet the sting was burning on her skin, as she placed a hand on her cheek. To foreign eyes, he just slapped his wife. But he has done it before, to her request. Aemond knew that if his wife was enraged by that, he would have been beaten over and over, because she was kind, but didn’t stand for people dishonouring her.

Aemond, more gently places his hand back on her chin, pulling it so she can look at him. “You will learn your place” Aemond says, as she looks up at him, with those meek eyes of hers. He loved her eyes. “Open your mouth”

He leaned down, his mouth opening over hers, so near that she could feel his hot breath. His hand goes to wrap the bright red hair of hers, and his firm grip got her head secured.

Perhaps Aemond would kiss those perfect lips, yet he pulled back and released a strand of saliva directly into her waiting mouth. Aemond’s fingers tightened the grip in her hair, as his other hand came up to wipe away the excess of spit.

“There is my good girl” he murmurs, looking at her. “Mhm. I’m going to teach you a lesson”

Aemond lifts his wife to her feet as if she weighs nothing, his grip on her hair almost dragging her to the bed, forcefully as he heard her little whines. He had a moment or two to decide which position suited best, for then to grab her hips and guide her to be on her hands and knees. He grabs the long red hair once again, angling her head to the side, because Aemond needed to see her face the same way he needed air.

She was soaking wet, and that is a satisfaction for her husband. Aemond accommodated behind her, watching her body as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

“Such a sweet little cunt” he growls, his eye flashing with lust and desire as he thrusts into her from behind, in one swift motion.

Her whimpers and pants are loud, as she grips on the sheets as her back is arched. She was desperate to be filled and fucked, not something unusual. The unusual thing was that… nothing happened.

“Aemond” She whines, moving her head to watch him from above her shoulder. She had that desperate, pitiful appearance that he loved.

“Yes, my love?” He asks almost nonchalantly, watching her ass, and how his cock is fully sank inside her

She can barely think straight as his dick is deep inside her, throbbing in her walls as she just needs him to start fucking her. “Eh… move?”

“I don’t think so” he murmurs, his hand moving to caress her ass to his liking. “You’ll have to fuck yourself on my cock” His wife opens her mouth, confused as her eyebrows frown in hesitation. “Show me how much you need me” he says simply, he was fucking teasing her. “How much you need my cock”

Feeling the thick length of Aemond’s cock inside her, she accommodates on her hands, slowly moving away just to sink down onto his cock again. Her slick walls gripping him tightly as she impales herself on his thick cock.

“Aemond… Fu-uck, you feel… oh, yes…” She whimpers, and her voice is filled with pleasure as her pussy starts getting pounded as she liked so much. If Lady Tully liked something in life, was probably getting fucked until her mind is mush.

Her hips start moving on their own accord, as she grips on the sheets, trying to keep a stable posture to move her hips better, as her moans are obscenely loud, trying to get his cock deeper and deeper. Aemond leaves a groan, watching how she sinks down on his cock, and it is an image that would make any man cum in seconds. He truly was the luckiest man ever.

He feels the fire in his stomach tighten, as her moans grew more and more delighted to the feeling of his cock pounding into her. At first, she had thought of it as promiscuous, and asked the maiden for forgiveness, but gods damn her if it wasn’t the best thing in life to get a good fuck from the love of her life.

“So responsive when getting a cock in your needy pussy” Aemond mutters, as one of his hands raises to spank her ass, the sharp slap only serves for the sounds coming out of her mouth to increase, and he spanks her again, and again, and again, to his own amusement and delight.

“Please, Aemond…”

“You just love misbehaving with me, because you know I will put you in your place” he says, moving forward to her body to grip his hair with his right hand, his left goes right next to her hand gripping the sheets to hold his weight. “Because you are a needy whore” he states, gripping her hair as she nods forcefully.

“Yes” she says, in that whiny tone of hers. He knows her reactions yet every time they aroused him even more. “Yes, please”

The grip on her hair only serves to help him push her back against his cock, his hips now making the effort to start properly pounding into her cunt as she loved; hard, rough and at a deliciously good pace. Her body is practically numb as he starts to use her body for his own pleasure, just as she loved.

Who would have said that the most beautiful woman on earth loved being used by her husband? Definitely not him. She was the most perfect creature, in any way. Smart, funny, pretty, a good wife and mother. And yet she always craved his cock, like the filthiest whores of Flea Bottom.

“Let those bastards hear you, hm?” He asks, as he leans to speak lowly near her ear. “How it’s your husband who pleases you. Perhaps my uncle will get the notion that you are mine. Only mine. Fucking mine. That fucking dodderer will die by my hand if he ever dares to lay his eyes on you”

The mere thought infuriates him, making his hips slam into her harder and more feral. Rutting into her cunt in an animalistic pace as he has to clench his jaw in rage. His hand on her hair and the other on her waist, he groans at the feeling of her soaking cunt.

The sobs he hears as his cock keeps on pounding into her sweet spot, makes him smug enough, and even more aroused. His sweet lady wife, so prone to cry when she had too much pleasure when she got overwhelmed with lust.

“Please, please…” the round of pleas comes up with her tears, and Aemond moans, shamelessly, as he was so close. “I can’t t-take i-it… anymo-ore”

“Oh, you will” he says through gritted teeth as he lets go of her hair, only for his other hand to go to her shoulder to help her get his dick deeper. “I will breed you. Cum so deep that my seed takes root, and everyone will know who you belong to.”

Her nods between sobs, pleas and trembling legs help him pound in feral thrusts into her, feeling her cunt already milking him, inner walls attempting to squeeze his dick inside and never let it go.

“Cum for me, my love” he murmurs, still fucking her deep and nice how she likes it. “My beautiful wife” he murmurs, besotted by her as she cries, her tears rolling down her rosy cheeks with little freckles that he adored.

The little spasms of her body, her wails and the way her cunt squeezes him, it’s enough to drive him to the edge, holding her body down into his cock as he moans loudly, rolling his eye back in pleasure as he cums hard. She whimpers, whining a bit as his seed just keeps on filling her, his balls tensing up as his grip will probably leave her delicate skin with red marks.

He is caring afterwards, as he cleans her with a towel, or when he places her in bed and covers her, lying by her side each time as she snuggles to him.

“You have to know–” she says softly, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “You are hot when jealous”

Aemond huffs, grumbling about it a bit as he seems reluctant. It amuses her.

“You always find me hot, I could be… Killing a chicken and you would be leaking”

“Get on my place for a moment, please, just imagine how your muscles would flex” she says dead serious and he rolls his eye amused, as the corners of his lips gives him away.

The fixation on his hair would be a problem if he didn’t love her so much. Aemond allows his lady Tully to braid it as they talk in bed.

“I didn’t really mean it” he says softly.

“Hm?” She asks curious, her fingers working on a single small braid on his hair.

“You can talk to them” he says through gritted teeth. “Just-... not too much”

Her little laugh warms his heart. “Very well” she says amused. “For each sentence I say to them, I will suck you”

“I retract myself, talk to them very much, all you like” he says, and it has her giggling. “You know I love you…” he says; as it comes into his view her concentrated face, her tongue coming out of her pink lips as she was focused. He could see the freckles that he so adored, and her pretty eyes. How he loved her.

“You know I love you more…” she says fixing his braid to stick to his hair. Her mouth forms a pleased smile as she sits, as she inspects her work. “Yes. Seems pretty nice”

He could feel the hair strand tight, and he moved his hand to touch his head. “What in the Seven Hells you did to my hair, woman?”

She looks very pleased as she giggles, her body accommodating against his chest as she shrugs innocently, as he keeps on playfully trying to decipher what his wife did to his hair.

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eraenaa · 6 months ago

Text

Blessed Curse

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader Tag List

Synopsis: When a marriage between you and Aemond was arranged and forced by your grandsire, conflicting emotions arise, but which one will loom greater? Loathing or Love?

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, Arranged Marriage, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread

Word Count: 6,803

A/N: Final tribute (maybe) to Season 1 Aemond, you have fed us with your crumbs for the past two years. Based on a few anonymous requests where they wanted a prequel of 'Loathe to Love.'

Aemond’s frown severed as he looked through the window and watched as you and your kin exited the wheelhouse. He felt his sneer severe as he spotted a look of dissatisfaction adorned your plain face as you had realized the lack of welcome provided for your kin’s return. “Spying, brother?” Aemond jumped in his spot, his sister taking him by surprise as she appeared by his side. “I am not,” he said defensively, and Helaena only hummed, gazing below as the day of your awaited arrival had arrived. “Then why have you been waiting by this window since the morning?” Helaena asked, and Aemond clenched his jaw and stayed silent, not giving a response to his sister.

“Come, join us, Mother, and I shall greet them,” Helaena invited, and Aemond shook his head, scoffing at his sister’s invitation. “I’d rather not subject myself to their… treasonous presence,” He said, and Helaena sighed, walking away in silence.

Jacaerys raised his gaze and caught the sight of a silver prince looking down upon them. He warily traveled his oak gaze to you, who stood by the side of your stepfather. “Should we not tell her already? How long must we keep her in the dark about our true purpose here?” Your brother whispered to your mother. “Your grandsire shall be the one to tell her. The king must be the one to impart to her his wishes and orders,” Your mother sighed, guilt heavy in her heart as the whole of your family had kept the true reason for your return to Kingslanding from you.

“Helaena!” You called out in excitement as you entered the walls of the keep, your aunt, along with her mother, welcoming you. Helaena smiled widely at you as you took her into an embrace; though you had a distaste for the capitol, Helaena was the only one you were actually excited to see once more. “How are you?” You asked, paying no mind to the tense conversation between your parents and the queen. “Well. I am glad of your return,” She smiled, and you only smiled as well as you could not lie and agree with her statement. “I’ve been told you now have three children,” You tried to converse, and Helaena nodded. “I do; little Maelor arrived just two moons ago,” She confirmed, “Would you like to meet them?” Helaena asked, and you eagerly nodded, slipping away from your kin who were to venture to your grandsire’s chambers.

Aemond stalked the halls and watched behind the pillar as you walked with his sister, arms linked. He rolled his eye as you strutted through the halls as if your mere presence were not damnable. “Are you spying, brother?” Aegon appeared by his side, Aemond being caught off guard for the second time that hour. “I am not,” Aemond spat and walked off, but Aegon still followed him. “I have to admit, even I did not expect our niece to grow so… enchanting,” Aegon hummed, looking steadily at his brother to see what reaction his words would garner him. Aemond shook his head, not wanting to concede or show agreement with his brother.

“If you’re still having qualms about this marriage, perhaps it could be I to marry her instead.” Aegon hummed, further testing his brother. “The conqueror had two wives, did he not?” Aegon added and noted the way his brother clenched his jaw and fisted his fists. “You are no conqueror,” Aemond gritted and made hastened steps towards the tiltyard to escape his brother. “I do not understand your animosity, brother,” Aegon still followed.

“Were you not so… overly fond of her years before?” He asked and made fast steps to match his brother’s furious gate. “If I had remembered correctly… you had even asked Mother if you could be betrothed to her when you were nine,” Aegon reminded, and Aemond halted in his steps as he was made to recall the instance. “Leave before I succumb to my thoughts and maim you,” Aemond gritted, his hand already clenched around the hilt of his sword. Aegon let out a laugh at his brother’s threat but retreated because there was a murderous intent in Aemond’s eye.

Aemond had a few moments of solace in the tiltyard before you once again began to haunt him. Aemond halted his sparring with Ser Criston as he heard a laugh so melodious he was certain it was brought by delusion. He turned to the side and frowned as he learned that the laugh he had heard came from your lips, the melodiousness he relished upon just moments ago; he now convinced himself it was aggravating. The prince huffed as he saw his older brother standing by your side, Aegon being the reason for your mirth, and Aemond could not help but wonder if his brother’s actions were genuine or just another ploy to aggravate him.

“I see your intended has arrived,” Ser Criston stated as his eyes went towards where the prince’s gaze was placed. “Aye, she has,” Aemond gritted and shook his head, twisting the sword in his hands and urging himself to continue training. “Have you spoken to her?” Ser Criston could not help but ask, curious as to what the marriage order by the king would entail.

The knight held no fondness for any offspring of the spoiled cunt they call heir, but he himself could not be so cruel to show any animosity towards you. You were saved from the insults that he had no trouble throwing at your brothers. Ever since childhood, you were kind and gentle and good-humored. You were the only one who genuinely showed kindness to Aemond even if he was being picked on by his brother and yours. You were the only one who never cowered away from Helaena and her odd demeanor. You were the only child of Rhaenyra that the queen and her sworn protector could tolerate. It also bodes well for you that you were not present during the ambush in Driftmark. Instead, you were sound asleep next to your aunt as her brother’s eye was cruelly taken.

“No,” Aemond answered, his tone held disgust that the knight was a tad confused by, but he made no mention of it. Ser Criston readied his position to return to sparring with the prince, but Aemond was still wholly distracted by your presence. His frown severed as the smile on your lips did not lessen whilst you kept chatting with Aegon. It would seem his brother would make good with his tease of taking you to wife as well, and though Aemond had no wish to marry you, there was a pestering feeling inside him that savored greatly of jealousy, but he did not wish to admit.

The one-eyed prince disregarded his training and walked in your direction. You were in the midst of a laughing fit, but it quickly died as he arrived, the wide smile on your lips lessening. “Niece,” Aemond greeted, the word said through his teeth. “Uncle,” you curtsied quickly, and Aegon smirked as the scene unfolded before him. “Well, isn’t this nice,” he stated, and you turned your gaze to your elder uncle. “A reunion that is well overdue, do you not think so, brother?” He asked and clapped the back Aemond, who stared daggers at him. You licked your lips as you felt tension now surrounding the air. Aemond’s eye shifted back to you, your gaze lowered, your fingers playing with each other, and your bottom lip in between your teeth. He swallowed thickly as he did not expect a sudden surge of an odd sensation to overcome him.

You parted your lips, ready to speak, but a call through the tiltyard caught your attention. “Tala,” Your stepfather called; the three of you turned towards the steps and saw the Rogue prince approaching. “Good day, uncles,” You said quietly and curtsied before them before running towards your father. Daemon eyed curiously his two nephews you were speaking with. Daemon offered his arm for you to take as he escorted you up the steps, and judging by the smile that was still on your lips and there was no horror in your eyes, he deduced that none of them had spoken about the true reason for your return.

Daemon tried earnestly to contest the marriage. To make his brother see reason and not cruelly tie you with his deformed son. He even went as far as returning to Kingslanding the moment he and his wife received the message of his brother’s order. But the king had made up his mind. You were to marry Aemond.

Two days had passed since your return to the Red Keep, and you were still clueless as to why you and your family had returned. “When do you think we’ll leave?” You asked Lucerys as he went along with you in the gardens, your younger brother carrying the flowers you picked and were planning to give your grandsire you were still yet to visit. “I do not know, sister,” Lucerys mindlessly said, his focus transfixed on your uncle, who stood by the side, glaring at him with his lone eye. You, however, were oblivious to the presence of a silver prince.

Aemond clenched his jaw as he watched you leisurely pick at the flowers. He had been observing you through the days of your return, and he could not fathom why you were not bothered by the whole ordeal as to why he saw no aggravation or anger in you as you both were tasked to marry each other. You exuded an entirely different outlook than Aemond when it came to this doomed union which made him wonder at the possibility that perhaps you wanted it. That you were willing to marry him. Aemond found the possibility preposterous, but it was the only answer to your lax, unbothered disposition. The more Aemond thought about the possibility of your agreement to the marriage, the more it left him unnerved. But it would answer his questions as to why you did not show any outward animosity towards him. Completely civil at any of your encounters— even going as far as flashing Aemond a ghost of a smile when you passed him by the hall. Were you truly in want of this marriage? Aemond was torn on how to feel or perceive this.

“Must we not already tell her? We’ve been here for two days already, and she is still completely clueless about the reason for our return,” Jacaerys asked his mother, who sighed deeply. “Aye, I would take she would not appreciate this secrecy— especially the severity of the situation,” Daemon added, studying his wife who stepped towards a window that overlooked the gardens where you spent the afternoon in.

“The king must be the one to tell her. He… he must be the one to tell her his wishes.” Rhaenyra said once more, unable to be the bearer of bad news. She could already foresee the anger, hurt, and fear in your eyes, and it made her stomach pit and twist painfully. She had made a promise to herself that her daughter would be saved from the political marriages most of them were subjected to— to save her from the heartache and the displeasure of having a husband bound to you not by love but by political gain. But even she could not protect you from such cruel fates. Having no choice but to watch as you would retell the plights of women before you.

“The king has been incoherent for days. The wedding ceremonies they prepared are set in a fortnight— we must tell her Rhaenyra. She must know of the matter now so she could prepare herself,” Daemon spoke, “Prepare herself to escape,” Jacaerys muttered under his breath, already imagining your reaction that would surely be filled with shock and betrayal.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily and shook her head, her hand unconsciously going to her forehead to soothe the throbbing pain as she thought about the matter. “If my father still has not regained his thoughts by the morrow, then we shall tell her at tomorrow evening’s supper,” Rhaenyra decided, putting a buffer on the matter, praying to the gods that her father shall regain consciousness and be the one to tell you of his orders.

You returned inside the castle walls as the afternoon sun was proving to be too scorching for you. Your younger brother went to the tiltyard, and you were left alone as you wandered around the castle you once called home. You were admiring a portrait hung on the wall, your eyes completely fixed on the bold colors and the detailed strokes of the work that your surroundings started to fade, and you did not realize someone had joined your company. “Quite luminous, is it not, your highness?” You slightly jumped, startled by the voice that made itself known. You turned to your right and saw a son of House Tyrell. “It is my lord,” You agreed with a small smile finding itself on your lips.

Aemond watched the scene steely-eyed behind a pillar as you acquainted yourself with the lord in the empty hallways, unescorted. There was a smile playing on your lips as you two conversed. He watched as the lord started to inch his body closer to you, daring to brush his hand with yours that held flowers in it. Aemond’s already impaired vision burned as he saw a blush rising to your cheeks. The scandal of it! Here you are, a betrothed woman still acquiring and entertaining the attention of eligible young men.

When Aemond saw the lord take a flower from your hold and dare place it by your ear, Aemond removed himself from his spot of observation and stomped towards the both of you. “Uncle,” You greeted in surprise as Aemond suddenly appeared in the hall. “Good morrow, my prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted, and Aemond could not make the effort to not let his contempt not show. “My Lord,” was all he replied with, feeling your confused gaze by his left as he stood by your side. “The Princess and I were just discussing this portrait. I had remarked on its luminosity and sh—“ Aemond rolled his eye and cut the lord off.

“If you shall excuse us, Lord Tyrell, I must speak with my betrothed. Alone.” He said, voice utterly cold and almost threatening. Your lips agape at his words, your mind unable to comprehend what he had uttered. “What?” You suddenly asked as Lord Tyrell bowed towards you before hastily walking away. Aemond turned to you, expression angered. “Are you truly this careless? Walking the halls alone, engaging with a lord without an escort. Do you not thin—“ You hindered him from completing his scolding. “What are you saying?” You asked in confusion. “Betrothed?” You added, and Aemond’s brows furrowed.

“Do not act simple with me; you know perfectly well of o—“ You cut Aemond off once more. “What are you talking about? Betrothed? What?” You continued to voice out your bewilderment. Aemond stared at you, calculating if the confusion on your face was an act. But as he stared at your eyes, he knew your confused state was genuine. “You do not know, do you?” He asked quietly. “Know what?” Aemond licked his lips and looked around the empty hall. Just hours ago, he believed you were in full knowledge of the upcoming union between the two of you— that you were completely fine with a marriage with him, for he saw no resistance or rebellion. But what is there to resist or rebel about when you are left utterly clueless?

“We are to be married,” Aemond stated, and you gazed up at him as if he had grown three heads. “Us… married?” You asked slowly, and Aemond gave a curt nod, waiting for the dread in your eyes, but he was left shocked as you began to laugh. The hall rang and echoed your laughs, Aemond watching you as you clutched your stomach and continued to laugh at the absurdity of it. He scowled as you gasped for air, your laugh still ringing in his ears and riddling his skin with gooseflesh. “You have an odd sense of humor, Aemond. But I am glad that after all these years, you finally learned how to jest,” you said in amusement, gazing at his lilac eye as you waited for him to break his peculiar act. However, when only seriousness was present in his Valyrian orbs, the smile on your lips faltered.

“Are you serious?” You asked, your tone dripping heavy in disbelief. “It is the order of the king,” he replied, and you shook your head. Aemond clenched his jaw as you still did not believe his words. “Why do you think you’re here? After all these years of informal exile, why do you think your family was summoned? You and I are to be married.” He explained, frowning at how slow you are to comprehend the situation. Now, the dread that Aemond was waiting for was presented greatly on your plain but pretty face. “I… I do not believe you; you are lying.” You say, and Aemond stepped closer. “Why must I lie about this unsavory matter? What I speak of is the truth. If you do not take my word for it, go ahead and ask your parents, and they will tell you the same thing: you and I are to be bound to one another.” Aemond said lowly, his face drawing closer to yours.

You shook your head and stepped back, your gaze still locked with Aemond, who stared at you undeterred, seriousness the only thing on his face. “You will be my wife.” He stated and watched as fear grew heavier in your eyes, and you ran across the hall in search of your parents. As Aemond stared at your departing figure, he began to wonder if it was satisfying to finally see the fear and rage in your eyes that he had been expecting ever since your arrival or if there was another pestering emotion that he wished not to entertain.

“Mother!” You called through the halls, eyes already threatening to spill with tears. When you reached her chambers, she and your father turned to you, worry shining on their faces. “My sweet girl, what is it?” She asked and took hold of your hands. “Tell me it is not true— tell me he lies,” You almost begged. “What?” Your mother asked quietly, not accepting the fact that you now knew of the betrothal. “Please, you’re not marrying me to Aemond, are you? That’s not true, yes? He was just teasing me,” You said desperately, willing your mother to confirm your theory. But as she said no word and only went pale, your knees felt weak, and a pitting of your stomach presented itself greatly.

“It… it is the order of your grandsire,” She said delicately, moving you to sit down as your breath had been rendered short through your cries. Daemon watched by the side, his hold on his sword tight as he could not bear to see you in such a state of distress. “No… please, you cannot make me!” You wailed as your mother tried to hush you, soothing you, running her hands through your hair, and patting your back just as she did when you were a child. “Please… I… let me speak with grandsire— he cannot marry me to him,” You pleaded, and your mother’s saddened eyes gazed at you, her warm touch moving to wipe the tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, my sweet… we have begged your grandsire, implored him that this union could not be. But he had made up his mind, and none of us could alter it, not even Alicent.” Your mother whispered.

You sniffled in your seat, your thoughts running with dread and confusion. “Why did you only tell me now? How could you hide this from me?” You asked in betrayal. Daemon sighed and went to where you sat, kneeling before you. “We wanted to tell you, tala. To prepare you, but we foolishly thought that we could still alter the decision of the king. We had not told you, for we did not wish to distress you with a matter that we thought we could change.” He said softly, watching as tears fell from your eyes. You bit your cheeks and shook your head, “When… when must we marry?” You asked in dread. “In a fortnight,” Your mother replied and felt her heart clench as you stifled a sob. “I’m truly sorry, my sweet girl,” She said softly as you cried quietly in her arms.

“It would appear they hid it from her,” Aemond remarked to his mother as he sat in her chambers. “They thought they could still alter the orders of the king,” She remarked as quietly as she observed her son, who stared at the fire. “I still have not asked you about your thoughts on this marriage,” The queen remarked, watching as her son clenched his jaw. “You need not ask; you already know of it,” Aemond answered. The queen breathed in heavily.

“This may not be what you want now… but this was all you had wanted when you were a boy,” Aemond shook his head, a scoff leaving his lips. “Will all of you stop reminding me of it? Aye, I did want her when I was a child, but I am a man grown. I do not wish for a marriage forced upon me— especially when my bride is to be so… plain,” Aemond frowned at himself as he sensed hesitancy as he uttered the words that used to roll off effortlessly. It was the truth; you were plain— your features nonconforming to the house they tried to sell as yours. But you had never been plain the sense of attractiveness, your beauty celebrated throughout the realm, beguiling the lords of Westeros and years before, Aemond as well. Alicent stayed silent, for she could not offer comfort to her son, who was bound to a marriage that was devised for the crown.

When the crown announced your impending matrimony with your one-eyed uncle, mixed reactions were shared. Nevertheless, the kingdom was made to celebrate the event. You tried to hide your frown as your grandfather made you and Aemond parade around the streets of Kingslanding, a picture of unity to be sold to the small folk so they could attest to the new age of dragons.

“Is this truly necessary?” You asked your father as you were sitting in a carriage. Aemond was still to board it, but he and his grandfather were conversing. “It is what your grandfather wished,” You hear your stepfather say, his violet eyes shifting to your betrothed. “But why? Is he even of sound of mind? I thought others were now tasked to do his bidding; why did they let this happen?” You asked in a plea, ready to jump off the carriage as you felt it jostle and your soon-to-be husband sitting next to you. “Best stop your bellyaching. You are not the only one who is shortchanged with this marriage.” You gritted your jaw at his words, turning to your father wide-eyed, trying to discern if he had heard it as well.

Daemon clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword at his nephew, who had the gull to offend you, his precious daughter. “Your brothers and I will follow closely behind. It is only for a few hours, tala,” he gritted, and you unconsciously pouted as your father walked away, leaving you alone in the presence of Aemond.

You traced the patterns of your gown as you rode out of the castle gates. When you reached the streets, you straightened your back and plastered a slight smile to appear as if you were somewhat happy with the devised marriage. Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as you greeted the small folk, smiling at them and giving them a small wave of your pampered hand. He frowned at how much you loved their attention, giving them a pitiful show. “You might want to lessen the scowl… the purpose of all this is to present a united figure,” You whispered as you passed a crowd.

“I will not be part of this farce,” Aemond spat and glared at a group of men whose hungry gaze were enclosed on you. “You are a prince of this realm. You have no choice but to be the crown’s puppet,” You said, with a tight smile as you waved toward a group of women. You feel Aemond’s glaring stare at the side of your face, but you willed yourself to ignore it. However, when the other small folk started to notice the glare of your betrothed, you turned to Aemond with a smile still on your lips, looking at him with your fictitious love-struck gaze, and you wanted to laugh as your act took him aback.

Aemond stared into your eyes, perplexed at the look you gave him. Soft, adoring, and… he could not name the other element in your enchanting eyes. He had to look away as he felt himself stagger, and his breath was caught in his throat. When the crowd lessened, Aemond returned his gaze to you, the smile on your lips at the look in your eyes gone within a snap. You turned to him angrily, “Play the part for the subjects, Aemond. I do not expect much from this marriage, and I certainly do not expect us to get along behind closed doors, but when in the eyes of the public… best not to dishonor our house with another display of a fraudulent marriage. As all have kept reminding us, this is our duty.” You say quietly, tone bitter and overly severe. Aemond pursed his lips and clenched his fists around the air as the tumultuous crowds started to return once more, and the counterfeit smile on your lips returned.

The day all had dreaded finally came. You stared blankly in the mirror as you were dressed like a doll. You were resisting the urge to run through the halls and escape a life of hate with a man who had only loathing in his heart for you.

You stood before the door of the great hall, your arms linked with your mother as she walked you down the aisle. “I don’t want to,” You suddenly said, cold and clammed hands holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You tried to walk away, but your arm was linked with your mother’s, and she prevented you from doing so. “I am so sorry, my sweet, but not even you are above duty… none of us are,” She said solemnly, and you breathed out a previous breath as trumpets sounded out and the doors of the halls started to open. You bit your lip as you planted yourself on the ground, resisting the pull of your mother for you to walk. Your knees felt weak as you took small steps towards your groom, your mother practically dragging you down, her body a step ahead of your reluctant frame.

When you reached the end of the hall, and your hand was placed upon your betrothed, you resisted looking Aemond in the eye. Aemond stared you down, the image of you wholly too much and all-consuming. This was all he had wanted. This was the dream he dreamt every night in childhood. You, in a white gown and a veil covering your comely face, and him standing before you as your groom.

He could not explain how— how he had kept up his act for this long. To fake his animosity and loathing just in hopes that one day it would turn true because hoping and waiting for you was only a dream he had. Pretending to hold distaste for you because it was easier than letting himself hope that one day you will be his. But now, all those years of yearning have finally come to an end because before the sun could set, you will forever be bound to him.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Aemond recited and hesitantly looked toward you. Your hands were cold upon his, and Aemond took a deep breath before leaning in to seal your marriage with a kiss, your first kiss. The deafening roars and cheers of your guests were unheard as Aemond could only focus on the way it felt to kiss your lips. His mind only concentrates on the small taste he had of you— his entire being immediately starved for so much more than the quick and chaste entanglement of your lips.

You and Aemond were silent for the whole feast, a small smile plastered on your lips as to appear agreeable to the hundreds of eyes upon the both of you. You were too entranced to appear joyous that you were oblivious to the strong, calloused hand that had never left yours. Long, slender fingers drawing circles upon your flesh as if to soothe you.

You turned to Aemond, his eye on the sea of dancers on the floor. In disbelief that he was still holding your hand. You were in shock that he was willing to keep up the pretense so immensely— a pretense of unity that none seemed to notice, for your hands were tucked under the table.

When Aemond felt your stare, he turned to you, and you searched for the familiar cruelty and hatred in his eye; you found none. “Do you wish to dance?” He asked, and your lips parted in shock, taking a moment to comprehend his words. You could only nod, your husband leading you to stand. You were silent as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer to his body. The other dancers disappeared to make room for you and your groom, a slow, mellow melody enveloping the great hall as the eyes of your guests were turned to you and Aemond.

You stared blankly at his chest, eyeing the metal buttons of his vest, and tried to ignore the erratic beating of your heart. Aemond took in a deep breath, your scent intoxicating his senses more than the wine he had indulged himself for the night in preparation for the later activities. When it was the end of your third dance, you finally spoke, “I’m quite tired,” You said lowly, and Aemond gave a curt nod, taking your hand into his once more and guiding you to your seats.

Five more songs passed with you and Aemond in complete silence when your sisters appeared by your side. “Sister… we’re to help you to prepare for the… night,” Rhaena said lowly and cautiously. You feel your stomach drop and your nod. You stole your hand from Aemond and excused yourself before disappearing with your sisters, Aemond’s eye following your frame until you fully disappeared away from his view.

Aemond gritted his jaw as he felt his brother clap his shoulder, “Are you ready for the bedding ceremony, brother? I hope you still remember what I have taught.” Aegon teased and took your vacated seat. Aemond stayed silent and downed another chalice of wine, ignoring his brother. “But it is fine if you are not ready… perhaps I could substitute in y—“ Aemond turned to his brother with a severe glare. “One more word concerning my wife, and I will cut your tongue,” Aemond gritted, and Aegon’s amusement only grew. “There he is— there is the boy who wanted no one else but our niece.” Aegon grinned.

“You are a great actor— you almost had me fooled, but no amount of hate you display could make me forget about the little boy who would follow around our strong niece like a lost pup,” Aegon’s grin grew wider, and he quickly stood to walk away before his brother turned violent.

Aemond downed another cup before he had no choice but to join you in your chambers. He stood by the door and took deep breaths; the shy little boy in him returned, and he had no idea how to cope. Aemond bit his lip and mustered all his courage to step inside your marital chambers. He knew neither of you could perform what was expected that night— as much as he wanted to perform his duty, he knew in himself he could not.

Aemond walked in quietly, his eye on the floor as he entered. Aemond heard shuffling, and he lifted his eye. Lilac orbs placed on a screen divider lit by the flickering light of a candle, your silhouette traced upon the thin paper of the divider as you fixed your shift. Aemond felt his knees weaken, taking a seat on a chair, his eye still fixed on your shadow. By just the outline of you, of your peaked apples straining through your shift and your graceful body turning behind the divider, he already felt pleasure wash through the whole of his body. His cock painfully straining in his trousers, he would think by the amount of wine he had downed, he would be left slack that night.

You took in deep, calming breaths as you stepped out of the divider and decided to wait for your husband, but to your surprise, he was already seated in your chambers. You looked at him wide-eyed, having the urge to cover your body, but you reminded yourself that this intimacy was part of your marriage— at least tonight.

Your gazes did not meet as you stood by a distance from where Aemond sat. The crackling fire between the two of you is the only sound surrounding the room. You gulped before you stepped close to your husband, footsteps overly heavy with every step taken in his direction. “Kneel,” You hear aemond grit, and you frown at his words, ready to fight his order, but you remind yourself that just for tonight, you will do your duties as a wife.

Aemond was left breathlessly as he watched you slowly sink to your knees. He bit his tongue harshly as his eye went to your plush thighs pressed together, having the urge to squeeze them and feel if your skin was as soft as his mind imagined.

You waited, wrapped in anticipation of what was to happen next. You shuddered as you felt his cold hand come to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to a close at the surprisingly gentle touch, your body moving closer to him without any way of controlling it. As your eyes were still fluttered close, you felt the familiarizing way of his lips upon yours. You felt yourself already quivering and you placed your hand on Aemond’s leg to steady yourself. Aemond leaned forward to feel more of your lips, his cold touch placing itself on your shoulder, feeling the bare skin as the sleeve of your shift had dropped off.

You moved to part from him, out of breath with the kiss you shared. The taste of him and wine imprinted on your tongue. Rose your gaze to meet his eye, and you saw that the lilac orb had turned dark. Without another word, Aemond smashed your lips once more. Kissing you more fervently and pulling you to stand. You whimpered as you felt him bite your lip and pull down further the thin cover you wore. You were in a daze as his lips kissed your sand, and his hands roamed your body, harshly gripping your behind as he led you to the bed.

It was his turn to part your lips. You lay bare on the silk sheets of the feathered bed, his standing before you still fully clothed, and you feel a rush of embarrassment course through you, showing its evidence on your cheeks. Aemond hastily undid the buttons of his vest, eye still locked with yours; he did not miss the embarrassment and perhaps even scandal in your eyes, the tell-tale sign of your purity, and he could not help but succumb to more pleasure by the thought.

You shifted your gaze as Aemond stood bare before you, the image of him quickly engraving itself in your mind. You bit your lip as you waited for him to shift his weight atop yours, but you were left perplexed when, from the side of your eye, you saw him sink to his knees. You propped yourself on your elbows as he pried your legs open, a deep frown on your face as you tried to comprehend what he was doing. When you noticed his head straying closer to your cunny, your eyes widened in further scandal.

“What— Aemond, no!” You say breathlessly and try to close your legs shut, but his hold on your thighs is too strong. “You told me we must perform our duty, wife… let me perform them,” You could only fall back on the plush mattress as you felt the foreign feeling of lips upon your cunt. Aemond sucking upon the pearl of your cunt as his tongue would dart out and tease the bud. You breathed heavily and bit your lip to prevent any sound from being heard, which only made Aemond double his efforts, wanting to hear you be wrapped in utter pleasure.

Aemond groaned at the taste of you, palming his length as it already wept, crying to be inside you, but he knew he must prepare you first. That he must savor you like this, for he did not know if after this— after this initial duty, when would be the next time he’ll have the opportunity to have your cunt against his face.

Aemond finally pried a moan from you, smirking as he moved his finger to tease your folds, a louder moan coming from your lips as he teased your entrance. “A—Aemond,” You called as he inserted the digit, your body rigid and back arching the sensation. “Such a tight cunt… you kept yourself pure for me,” Aemond hummed and groaned as he felt your legs wrap themselves around his neck, pushing his face further to your cunt. He chuckled, and the vibrations from it made further wetness escape your cunt, your hips, your hips gaining itself upon his face; his finger found a companion, and the digits curled inside you. Brushing against the rough spot that spurred you quickly into your climax. Aemond groaned as he heard your muffled voice moaning his name.

You stared at the canopy bed as Aemond rose to his feet and finally placed his weight upon you, his lips finding yours again. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you cannot help but moan, Amend smirking as you find pleasure in tasting yourself; you were quite sweet.

Aemond finally gave in to his wants and aligned himself against your entrance, brushing away your tears that were quick to escape your eyes as he pushed further into your cunt. He was cautious with his movements, not wanting to cause you any unnecessary discomfort. He was patient, waiting for the pained furrowed in your brows to turn to a furrow of pleasure; when it did, his thrust was still cautious. It was some pleasurable torture; he needed more, but he could not be so cruel to present you with such pain.

“Faster,” You breathed out as you felt his thrusts were too slow to bring you to the climax you now sought. Aemond was uncertain if he heard you correctly, so he played it safe and kept his initial pace. “Aemond… please, I— I need it faster,” You urged, letting go of any pride in you as your body needed him. Aemond blinked for a moment, comprehending your quest before wholeheartedly obliging.

Your moans spewed loudly as his thrusts were deep and fast, his finger drawing circles upon your cunt and supper you further into your release. “Oh gods… Oh gods, Aemond!” You cried and clawed his back as you came undone. Aemond groaned into the shell of your ear as his own release was quick to follow, his lips finding yours as his seed rooted itself deeply in your cunt. The thought of heirs already festering in his mind.

That night, Aemond held you in his arms as you slept. His mind was made; he would do anything for your marriage to prevail, for the past to be shed and be forgotten. For you to be happy and contented in his arms, for he already was. As long as he had you, the only girl he had and will ever want and love, he was perfectly content with this blessing of a marriage they had disguised as a curse.

Part Two: Loathe to Love

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ophelieverse · 6 months ago

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baby-girl-aaron-dessner · 6 months ago

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Rhaenys being killed by her daughter’s dragon…Baelon’s dragon killing Alyssa’s dragon…Viserys was carried on the back of Meleys (his mothers dragon) as a baby, and now his son is killing that same dragon using his father’s (Baelon the Brave) dragon (Vhagar).

This is one of the saddest tragedies that results from the Dance of the Dragons.

#I’m sorry I know I’ve written this poorly #I’m a flood of emotions right now #hotd spoilers #hotd #house of the dragon #baelon the brave #alyssa targaryen #vhagar #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys velaryon #rhaenys the queen who never was #meleys #sunfyre #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 months ago

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Unabashed

Summary: Aemond wonders whether his pretty new wife is as shy in her sleep as she is awake, and intends to find out | Word Count: 1.6~k | Warnings: somnophilia, dubcon, oral (f receiving), feelings of shame

Thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for organising the event! <3 Make sure to check out the others!

The early dawn light filtered through the gossamer curtains, casting a soft glow across the spacious chamber. Aemond stood at the edge of their grand bed. His gaze softened as it fell upon his wife, a gentle and shy creature, who seemed out of place amidst the grandeur of a Targaryen prince's bedchamber.

They had been married but a few weeks, and her timidity was still evident in her every movement. She lay there, her breaths even and soft, her face relaxed in sleep. Aemond's heart swelled with a mixture of affection and protectiveness. He knew she struggled with the expectations placed upon her as his wife, especially when it came to intimacy.

He thought back to their wedding night. She had blushed deeply, her cheeks a rosy hue as she avoided meeting his gaze. Her hands had trembled slightly as she undressed, her shyness palpable. Aemond had taken her hands in his, his touch gentle, hoping to reassure her, but with a deep desire to claim her as his. Her skin had been warm, and he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse under his fingers. He had moved slowly, each touch deliberate, wanting to make her feel safe and cherished. Despite his efforts, she had remained tentative, her actions hesitant and reserved.

Many at court whispered that she was ill-suited for the intensity that came with being bound to a man like Aemond. They said she lacked the fire needed to stand beside him. Aemond had often wondered if there was another side to her, one hidden beneath layers of gentleness and timidity. A side that perhaps only he could reach, given time and patience.

This morning, he found himself wondering again. As she lay there, serene in sleep, he considered the possibility that in her dreams, she might be free from the constraints of her waking shyness. Perhaps, he thought, he could gently coax that hidden side of her into the light.

The sheets framed her form in his plush bed, her hair in somewhat disarray, a few pieces having escaped her careful and perfect braiding the night before. It had been hot in King’s Landing since their wedding night, and so as his eye drifted over her, he could see the gentle rise of her chest, and her perk nipples forming peaks against the near-translucent cotton bedding. A shy thing she was, but most certainly not without allure.

Aemond's breath caught at the sight, a primal part of him stirred by her unintentional seduction. The stark contrast between her modesty and the sensual image she presented tugged at some place usually kept hidden. She was a puzzle he was determined to solve, a delicate flower he was eager to nurture.

Before he knew it, his fingers bunched the sheets in his grasp, watching with deep satisfaction at the way her body was slowly revealed to him, inch by perfect inch. A map of unmarked territory he was determined to explore. The fabric slid against her skin with such ease, as if she were made of water and they were simply a ripple in her perfection, until eventually, once she was bared to him and she gave a quick breath-like shudder, he was able to take his time in forming his plan.

Aemond leaned closer, his breath hot against her skin. His lips pressed gentle, reverent kisses along the smooth expanse of her stomach, moving lower with each caress. Her body trembled slightly beneath his touch, her breath hitching in her sleep, as if her dreams were becoming more vivid and enticing.

When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, glancing up at her face. Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted slightly, a soft sigh escaping her. Taking a deep breath, Aemond pressed a tender kiss against her inner thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

His tongue flicked out, tasting her, a heady mix of sweetness and desire. She stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips as her body responded to his touch. Encouraged, Aemond continued his ministrations, his tongue moving with careful thought, exploring every inch of her glistening slit with the precision he afforded everything else in his life.

Her hips shifted slightly, a subconscious response to the pleasure building within her. Aemond's hands gently gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he deepened his efforts, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Each moan, each soft gasp she made was a testament to the pleasure he was giving her.

There was a deep, primal part that glimmered in his eye at the way she responded, her subconscious sounds and movements a stark contrast to her demeanour when she was awake. Her slumber seemed to lower her carefully built walls, imprisoning her sexuality inside. Her hands gripped the sheets the same way he gripped her thighs, the warm muscle of his tongue dragging over her sex up towards her bud, enclosing his lips around it, the smirk he wore hidden in his actions.

The sounds were so sweet to his ears he could stay between her plush thighs all day. A part of him was surprised she hadn’t woken yet with the way her hips were chasing his lips and tongue, and her fingers carding through his loose hair and pulling lightly at the roots to ground herself. Her movements were by no means erratic, enough for him to know without looking that she was still in whatever sleep-addled bliss she imagined, but it appeared his little wife was more and more an exciting enigma with every passing day.

Her breathing grew a fraction more erratic, her stomach clenching and unclenching with the warm, numbing climax that was steadily rising. She would blush and apologise profusely if she could see the way she was acting right at this moment, moaning and writhing with her cunt on his mouth. Aemond worked in rhythmic, intoxicating strokes, taking everything she was giving to him, the tartness of her arousal was addictive in a way he had never imagined.

His little wife’s body arched only slightly off the bed, her grip tightening and thighs trembling, her release washing over her in powerful waves. The only sound she gave was a breathy, elongated moan, too sweet for the carnal, forbidden act he was performing on her sleeping form. Aemond watched with satisfaction as she slowly relaxed, her breathing returning to a more even pace. He placed a final, tender kiss against her sensitive skin before drawing back, his eyes lingering on her peaceful, contented expression.

He found it almost comical that his wife hadn’t woken to her husband devouring her sweet cunt, but that she had woken to the feeling of the mattress dipping as Aemond righted himself, looking down at her bare form, her chest shimmering with a dew of sweat.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked up at him, her gaze initially hazy with sleep. As her awareness sharpened, she noticed her state of undress and the lingering warmth between her thighs. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a mix of surprise and realisation dawning on her features.

"Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling with both shyness and residual pleasure.

He wiped his face, a victorious, cat-like smirk on his features, as if to emphasise her embarrassment. “Good morning, my love.”

She averted her gaze, her hands moving to cover herself instinctively, but Aemond's firm yet gentle touch stopped her.

"There is no need for that," he said softly, his smirk fading into a more tender expression.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions, embarrassment, curiosity, and a budding sense of trust. "Did I... did I embarrass myself?" she asked hesitantly.

Aemond chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that made her cheeks flush even more. "Not at all," he replied, his voice filled with genuine amusement and pleasure. "You were perfect, and it was a delight to see you respond so…unabashedly"

Her blush deepened, but she managed to meet his gaze, her curiosity overcoming her shyness. "I did not wake up," she murmured, almost to herself. “I thought it was a dream.”

"A dream, perhaps," he said, brushing his fingers gently along her jawline. "But one that I was more than happy to make real."

Feeling her cheeks burn at his brazen behaviour, she tugged the sheets to her chest to cover herself, her expression pleasured but shy. “Such actions will not result in a child.”

"No, it will not," he agreed. "But there are many ways to show my desire. Not all of them are about creating heirs."

“Well I know that.”

His expression took on a predatory gleam, moving swiftly to hold her wrists down to the bed with ease. “You might know,” he murmured, “but you will feel it, every day and every night.”

Her breath hitched, a mixture of fear and excitement. The hardness in his gaze tempered by the affection she saw there. Something shifted in her eyes, a spark of defiance and curiosity he hadn't seen before. She reached up, slipping from his hold, her fingers trailing lightly over his chest, her touch both hesitant and bold. Her lips curved into a small, sweet smile that almost dared him to do more.

His innocent little wife had a hidden fire, one that both intrigued and excited him. He felt his desire flare even stronger, spurred on by the need to explore this new side of her, to see just how far she would go.

“And I intend to make certain you never forget.”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04

@buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @eddieslut69 @emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa

@hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose

@natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics @primonizzutto @qyburnsghost

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prideprejudce · 5 months ago

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listen I don't like aemond but him letting larys think he was about to become hand and letting him start his little Oscar-thank-you-speech to immediately cutting him off like "ew not you. you set ur family on fire little ugly toad. fetch me grandpappy otto" was almost cartoonishly hilarious

#larys strong #aemond targaryen #hotd spoilers #prince aemond #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon spoilers #you KNOW he enjoyed sucking the hot air right back out of larys #that man needed to be humbled again #the toad comment was so unnecessarily mean it was hilarious lmaoo

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lola-writes · 5 months ago

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Prince Regent

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Word Count: 8.6k

Synopsis: Aemond returns to the Red Keep after the battle of Rook’s Rest with a newfound vigor for his wife.

Themes & Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI!), POV first person (Aemond’s & reader’s), s2x04,05 inspired, enemies to lovers trope, smut, violence, blood, dark/possessive Aemond, breeding kink, swearing, mentions of rape, high valyrian, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v, doggystyle, creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, choking

Song: Hide and Seek ~ Klergy, Mindy Jones

Latest oneshot: A Dragon's Lullaby

Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist | Playlist

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤️

Enjoy the read!

[gif @aemondstark ]

AEMOND

Smoke. Dragon fire. Blood.

It clung to me, acrid and sweet, like a perverse cloak of victory.

A primal urge, raw and unbidden, erupted within me, a hunger that transcended the battle’s end. It devoured my senses. It vibrated within my bones. It consumed my very being.

My adrenaline ebbed, leaving a hollowness in its wake. The battle was over. Victory was ours. Gleaming armor was storming the castle. But that victory hung hollow, a meaningless echo in the carnage. My flesh seared with defeat. A strange fire, unsatiated, stirred beneath my skin.

I needed something more. Something I could sink my teeth into, as Vhagar had. Something warm and living.

From the air, I watched the smoke curl skyward, soldiers scattering like startled ants, and Meleys red corpse lay vanquished beneath brick and dust.

The warmth of my kill was still writhing. It was a fresh, living ember, demanding to be tended.

The impact of my brother’s fall had torn the wood asunder, set the ground ablaze, smoke and cinders rising steadily towards the heavens. My gaze settled on the inferno, and I urged Vhagar, my reflection in scales and fire, towards it, my mighty beast beating the wind like thunder as we circled twice around the barrenness of the forest, before she heeded my command.

“Qubemagon, Vhagar.” (Descend)

I dismounted her and trod a path towards the inferno, my sword materializing in my grasp with a practiced turn of my wrist. Shades of red marred my vision. The air shimmered, thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood.

Adrenaline trickled into my bloodstream.

Never had I been so close to my birthright, so close to erasing the past. My grip tightened around the hilt. Images swam up before me. A lifetime of humiliations, each one a searing brand in my retina. My brother getting what he wasn’t fit for, presented to him on a silver platter. But no longer. No more would he be the architect of my suffering.

But as a tremor shook the ground, a low rumble heralding the broken form of the golden dragon, a monument of smoke, blood, dirt, and ashes, none of it seemed to matter.

As I crested a rise, the world snapped into sharp focus. My gaze landed on him - my brother; melted into a nightmarish tableau of steel, flesh, and bone, encircled by his dragon’s golden body.

Resolution, cold and heavy, settled in my chest. Killing him would be fruitless. The Stranger had already requested an audience.

I had achieved what needed to be done. As I lifted the edge of my sword to its sheath, a voice echoed through the forest.

“Aemond!” Cole cried my name like a desperate warning. I glanced back, my weapon disappearing into its sheath with a final rasp.

I looked down at my sacrifice. The damage was raw, excessive. The damage that was wanton. A pang of unease twisted in my gut.

A glint of metal caught my eye, and I dropped to my haunches to retrieve the Conqueror’s Valyrian steel dagger from the bloodied earth. The dagger that was once Aegon’s. It was mine now.

Ser Criston’s rustling armor announced his approach. “Where is His Grace?” he asked, voice quivering.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I tilted my chin, allowing the glistening steel guide his gaze toward the grotesque sculpture of my melted brother encircled by golden scales.

Ser Criston crumpled to his knees without a word, as I rose to my feet.

A cold knot of regret twisted in my chest as I regarded my tribute. But it was fleeting, replaced by the icy fire of my ambition.

There was much to be done, and I needed to proceed if I were to achieve it. I turned on my heel and left Cole and my broken brother behind.

The battlefield and the devastation shrank beneath me as Vhagar’s powerful wings propelled us skyward.

A sharp thrill prickled my skin that was naught from the velocity, but rather that of my impending regency.

Upon returning to King’s Landing, I made my way to the small council chamber, ascending the stairs with slow deliberate steps. The air was thick with tension. The council was in disarray, engrossed in a heated discussion, but fell silent as the doors swung open. Eyes turned to me.

“My Lords,” I announced, my voice cutting through the sudden hush. I rounded the council table. “Mother,” I said, offering a curt nod of acknowledgement as I passed Alicent’s chair.

“Aemond,” she demanded, steel in her voice. “Where is Aegon?”

A heavy pause hung in the air before I met her gaze.

“Aegon has fallen,” I said.

The council erupted in uproar.

Cries of outrage and accusations.

Obscenities.

Scandal.

“How could this be allowed to happen?”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“We are doomed!”

The disapproval of the Lords sullied the chambers. This council was surely in lack of discipline. I already had my eyes on who I were to replace.

“The King is dead!”

“The King is not dead,” I countered, my voice calm and mellifluous, soothing the council members like warm milk. Voices dipped and eyes turned to me, an invisible shudder surging through the air. “He has merely sustained grave injuries and is being brought back to the Red Keep for treatment as we speak.” I began to pace around the table, hands slotted behind my back. “The King fought bravely,” I continued. “Landing mortal injuries to the Pretender’s cause. But the Red Queen cast him out of the sky before I could get to him.”

My pacing had brought me to the head of the council table, where I ceased my step. My hand reached out to allow my fingers to trace the chair frame, its iron vibrating with the power I so craved.

It was palpable.

It was mine for the taking.

I looked up at the members of the small council, my eye piercing each and every one of them until they quivered in their chairs.

“And in the coils of torment,” I spoke. “My brother, King Aegon, named me Prince Regent.”

A tremor vibrated the room, weary eyes glanced at each other, bodies twisting uncomfortably in creaking chairs.

“If anyone should be named regent, surely it should be me, his mother,” voiced Alicent.

I cast my gaze on her.

“Aemond is next in line,” came voices from the small council.

“Yes, but the King still lives!” Alicent implored.

“Who am I to contest the wishes of the King?” I said softly, casting her a look of pure innocence.

Alicent’s eyes welled like a tide of despair, her head dipping to the table with defeat. If Alicent could conjure words that had not been uttered to serve her own ends, why could I not?

“Aemond…” she started, her voice a gentle tremble. “Could we at least discuss this?”

“As prince regent, I vow to serve this realm, my Lords, and guide our path to victory against the Whore of Dragonstone.”

My gaze drifted to the platform in the center of the table, settling on the cold polished marble that remained. The King’s marble. I reached for it, and as my fingers closed around its smooth surface, I met Alicent’s eyes. A flicker of desperate plea danced within them, and I held it with a cold response. She exhaled with defeat as I seated myself in the King’s chair, placing the marble in its rocky nest.

“All hail Aemond, Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm,” Lord Tyland Lannister’s voice came, and the words echoed across the table.

A smirk played on my lips. “My Lords,” I began, splaying my hands atop the table. “Let us commence.”

YOU

Mutters. Whispers. Gossip.

The news, carried on frantic breaths, was a tangled mess.

One moment, the King was dead, the next, grievously wounded. Some murmured of a crippled monarch, others of his mighty dragon slain.

It buzzed in my ears as I made my way towards the throne room.

Fear, a cold serpent, coiled in my gut.

The throne room pulsed with tense energy. Hundreds of courtiers jostled for position, their faces etched with a mixture of morbid curiosity and nervous anticipation. I descended the cold stone steps, the weight of each step echoing the growing dread in my heart.

The Iron Throne loomed before me, an empty monument of jagged steel. Its cruel beauty, forged from a thousand fallen enemies, held a chilling glint in the flickering torchlight. I observed it over the shoulder of the woman in front of me, the precariousness of my position suddenly amplified.

A shiver ran down my spine. Sometimes, I believed it was cursed. Promising to cast whoever graced it to a terrible fate.

My fingers, restless with apprehension, turned my rings about my fingers, pulling them off and on in a nervous dance. A prickling sensation spread through me as I felt countless eyes burning into my back. Disapproval mingled with a strange reverence. The room thrummed with unspoken questions, and I, too, yearned for answers, desperately seeking a foothold in the swirling vortex of uncertainty.

A ripple of anticipation surged through the crowd as a figure emerged. I turned to witness the gleaming silver armor of the King’s Guard announcing Ser Criston Cole, the newly appointed Hand of the King. Hundreds of eyes swiveled in his wake as he strode towards the Iron Throne, which seemed to gnash its serrated teeth at his approach.

My mind churned in chaotic disarray. Ser Criston had marched on Rook’s Rest, prompting Aemond’s hurried departure. Where my husband was now, remained a mystery. Perhaps still at Rook’s Rest, tending to the fallen King, or perhaps continuing on to Harrenhal, a destination he oft mentioned.

None of it mattered.

My marriage to Aemond had been a political maneuver, as cold and sterile as a septa’s cell. He held no affection for me, nor I for him. He was the absent, aloof prince I’d always imagined him to be. Carrying a frozen heart of a killer. Our union was no more than an alliance. Though I was hardly complaining. Married life granted me freedoms I scarcely thought possible for a highborn lady. But I would jest if I said I did not long for something more. Something warm. Something living. But in Aemond, either would be the last place I’d find.

Ser Criston swept a steely gaze across the court, his face unreadable. He chewed the inside of his cheeks curiously, the motion ceasing abruptly when his eyes met mine. Cold and dark. I met his stare head-on, until an odd feeling took root in my gut.

Unanswered questions swirled in my mind.

Ser Criston tore his gaze from me, his eyes flitting across the room. Then, with a voice laced with authority, he boomed, “I address this court as Hand to inform you that the King has been grievously wounded in battle!”

A collective gasp ripped through the court. Whispers, like startled birds, rose in a flurry.

Ser Criston continued, a steely edge creeping into his voice, “Rhaenyra the Cruel will believe she won a great victory this day. May believe we will cower and offer her the throne like whipped dogs. But the False Queen is sorely mistaken. For the throne will not remain empty.”

Whispers escalated into a commotion. An unsettling prickle danced across my skin. My mind darted to the dowager Queen Alicent. Surely, in Aegon’s absence, they would elevate her to the throne. But after usurping Rhaenyra, would they truly place another woman in her stead?

My thoughts, apparently, mirrored those of the court, for Alicent’s name drifted around me like a persistent echo.

Ser Criston’s voice rose to a commanding pitch, reverberating through the throne room, “I present to you…” The heavy oak doors of the throne room ground open, drawing every eye in unison.

My breath caught in my throat as a figure materialized at the stairs.

It wasn’t Alicent.

A frame, draped in dark green leather that shimmered with silver accents, emerged from the groaning doors. The Conqueror’s crown, a heavy circle of iron, sat upon their silver head, casting a long shadow across a face half-obscured by an eyepatch.

“Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen,” Ser Criston declared, his voice thick with forced authority. “Rider of Vhagar.”

Aemond descended the steps.

“Slayer of the queen who never was.”

Aemond’s footsteps, muffled by polished leather boots and the collective murmurs of the courtiers, made a predator’s approach as he stalked toward the Iron Throne. Two King’s Guard flanked him with stoic expressions.

“And Protector of the Realm.”

He ascended the iron steps with a chilling grace, finally settling upon the throne. A hush fell over the court, thick and heavy. Silence stretched as he molded himself into the seat, his lethal hands caressing the equally lethal rests, a small smirk playing on his lips. His voice, a honeyed drawl laced with a hint of steel, echoed in the sudden silence.

“My Lords and Ladies,” he began, the menacing glint in his blue eye accentuated by the play of shadows on his face. “His Grace, the King, has been wounded at the battle of Rook’s Rest, and will be incapable to rule.”

There was a power in his presence, an unspoken threat that left the court speechless. Not a cough, not a rustle of fabric dared to break the silence.

“Therefore,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over the frozen faces, “I, will act as your sovereign.”

Unease prickled at my skin. Something about Aemond’s demeanor, the unnatural sheen on his face, sent a tremor of suspicion through me.

Had this all been a carefully orchestrated play? What truly transpired at Rook’s Rest?

My eyes darted to the ornate dagger resting at his hip, the ancestral blade of Aegon the Conqueror. It was the same dagger I’d last seen clutched in the hand of his brother.

As Aemond spoke on, a knot of apprehension tightened in my gut.

“The tide has turned,” he declared, his voice ringing through the stunned silence. “Rhaenys Targaryen is slain, along with her dragon.” A small smile tugged at his lips, a low hum escaping them. “The largest serving the Pretender’s cause.” He said it like it was a jest. “Rook’s Rest has been claimed, leaving Dragonstone vulnerable.” His fingers tapped across the blades. “This is a victory for us.”

Scattered heads nodded in agreement.

Then, his gaze snapped to me, a rapacious glint in his single blue eye. It seemed to bore into my very soul, stripping away any pretense.

“It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, his voice a silken threat, and for a moment, an eerie feeling within told me he was addressing me alone. The fire that danced within his eye flickered a touch too bright, and it felt like he could see every thought swirling in my mind, every flicker of doubt, every spark of fear.

It felt like he was about to eat me alive.

A violent terror surged through me, icy fingers gripping my heart. Adrenaline tapped into my veins, a primal urge to flee.

Frantic energy fueled my movements. I shoved dresses, jewelry, all of my belongings, into overflowing wooden trunks. Their straining hinges mocked my desperation. My handmaid, silent but swift, followed my frenzied instructions. I knew then, with a chilling certainty, that I owed her my life after this escape.

Aemond’s chambers, once a familiar haven, felt cold and sterile now, stripped bare of my belongings. Rain lashed against the open windows, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my heart. The journey ahead would be long and treacherous. Circumstances weren’t optimal, but there was no other choice at my disposal.

My husband was a murderer and a kinslayer twice over. And my intuition told me it would soon be thrice. He wasn’t just ruthless; there was an unsettling hollowness behind his actions, a chilling absence of remorse. He was a walking blight, a storm that devoured everything in its path. And I refused to be struck down by its lightning.

The apartment doors shuddered open, shattering me into distraught. My flight instincts flared, but I refused to cower. My hand instinctively shot out, grasping my maid’s hand tightly. We held our breath as a large, porcelain hand reached out and pushed the door wider.

Aemond entered, leaving the door ajar. His gaze, unwavering and cold, locked with mine. “Leave us,” he commanded, his voice a smooth, cold current.

My handmaid curtsied, her grip faltering as she pried my fingers loose. With a hurried glance back, she scurried out, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.

An oppressive silence descended, broken only by the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs.

Escape seemed impossible; the air thick with a chilling dread.

“You sent for me, wife?” Aemond’s voice, a silken caress laced with steel, echoed in the cavernous chamber. He approached with a predative grace, each deliberate step shrinking the distance between us.

Confusion slammed into me. I hadn’t summoned him. This was, by far, the most he’d spoken to me since our loveless union.

“You are mistaken,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. My feet, traitors that they were, retreated with each of his advances. Then, it dawned on me, that it might have been his intention to put me in a state of dubiety, making me more malleable. A cutthroat, not only lethal, but cunning.

He stopped beside my overflowing trunk, a flicker of amusement playing on his lips.

“Travelling somewhere?” His single blue eye, unnervingly perceptive, held me captive.

Panic clawed at my throat. I clenched my trembling hands into fists, slotting them behind my back, forcing my lips into a gentle smile.

“I wish to visit my family,” I said. “With war looming, I wish for us to be together.”

Aemond took another measured step closer. “Ao issi aerēbas mirriot daor,” (You’re not going anywhere), he murmured, the High Valyrian rolling off his tongue like a sinister threat.

A furrow etched between my brows as I attempted to comprehend his words. My grasp of the ancient tongue was limited, and whether he intended me to understand was a cruel game. Perhaps, it was yet another tool to exert his dominance. But based on his relentless pursuit, I gathered me leaving wasn’t an option he entertained.

“I am of no use to you, Aemond,” I pleaded, maintaining a safe distance. “Me staying serves no purpose.”

“On the contrary,” he purred, his voice dripping with a dark promise. His head tilted covetously, venom flashing in his eye.

“We barely exist to each other,” I continued. “What difference would it make if I was half a world away?”

“It would make all the difference.” The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced by a glacial edge. “There’s the matter of heirs.”

Seven Hells.

Anguish twisted my gut. Intuition, a primal scream, roared to life. Images flashed behind my eyelids – Aemond sitting the throne, and Aegon reduced to ash.

Had this been his plan all along? Was he the reason for the King’s lethal end?

The pieces slammed together in my mind, a horrifying mosaic.

I gasped, my back hitting the cold stone wall. Aemond’s ambition stretched far beyond my naïve expectations. Loyalty to his house, to his brother, had been a carefully constructed facade. Beneath it, he schemed, a shrewd predator stalking his ultimate prize. The crown.

And the crown needed heirs.

He towered over me, his presence overwhelming. He was much taller than I recalled, every inch radiating a rapacious tension. A hand braced itself against the wall, inches from my head.

“What have you done?” My thoughts materialized into shaky words, laced with an enmity that surprised even me. My gaze raked over him, revulsion twisting my features. The green leather seemed to pulse, an illusion fueled by my churning stomach.

A flicker, a hint of something akin to uncertainty, crossed his single eye. It darted across my face, as if truly seeing me for the first time. Perhaps he was. In this desperate flight, we’d never been closer. Close enough to be enveloped by his scent, a foreign musk that did little to quell my churning nausea.

“Skoros iksin bēvilagon.” (What was necessary)

I frowned again, aggravated that he took to High Valyrian as an attempt to shut me out of his thoughts. My jaw clenched, frustration a bitter taste on my tongue.

Malevolence rose like a flood as I leaned forward, so close that our noses nearly touched, “I would not have your child in a million years, kinslayer,” I spat, my voice trembling with contained fury. I lunged forward, aiming to push past him, to escape his suffocating presence. But his other hand shot out, slamming against the wall beside me, effectively caging me in.

A venomous glint flickered in his eye as he narrowed it at me through his lashes. A twitch played on his lips, a cat batting at a cornered mouse. “Be that as it may,” he said mellowly. “But even a bad wife must obey her king.”

A scoff escaped my lips, my eyes sizing him up and down. “You are no king,” I hissed, defiance lacing my voice. “You are not even a man.”

His reaction was swift and brutal.

One hand shot out and grabbed my face, forcing my head against the cold stone. Pain erupted at the impact, but quickly subsided as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning against my lips.

“Speak such treason again, and I’ll show you what I really am.”

“What will you do?” I spat back, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and insurgence. “Cripple me, like you did your brother? Force yourself on me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, his voice simmering with barely contained violence.

A tense silence ensued, the air crackling with his restrained fury.

My suspicions, already simmering, solidified into a horrifying certainty. He’d orchestrated his brother’s downfall on purpose.

“Have you no honor?” I whispered, the words a ragged plea.

The silence stretched, broken only by our ragged breaths. His hold on my face loosened gradually, his hand falling away. But his gaze remained fixed on me, a storm brewing within its depths.

“You cannot stop me, Aemond,” I said, my voice shrinking. “I will leave this place, one way or another. You can play king in my absence, but it will be a hollow crown.”

“Kesan arghugon ao naejot se mōris hen tegon.” (I will hunt you to the end of the earth)

“Speak plainly,” I snapped, my patience with his cryptic pronouncements wearing thin.

A chilling smile, devoid of warmth, stretched across his lips. He pushed himself away from the wall, backing away, creating my long-desired distance between us.

“You may go,” he drawled, the amusement in his voice laced with a dangerous edge, that sardonic smile still plastered on his lips.

Acrimony filled my gut. What little I knew of this man, I feared greatly, but also told me this was a trick. He wouldn’t relinquish control so easily. He’d allow me to make my “escape”, only to have me snatched back by the King’s Guard, now under his control, a public display of his authority. There was no true freedom with him.

Maegor’s tunnels, a potential escape route, loomed tantalizingly behind me. If only I were alone, a simple push against the wall would send me tumbling into its dark embrace. But escape without a plan or supplies was a fool’s errand.

My mind spun, each possibility twisting the knife of despair deeper. Even if I reached my family, what awaited me there? Shame would be their welcome. Aemond, no doubt, would make sure of it.

The rain continued its relentless assault on the outside world, punctuated by the booming symphony of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminated the apartments, casting Aemond in a grotesque, menacing silhouette.

Exhaustion overwhelmed me. I slumped to the floor, seeking solace in the meager comfort of my arms wrapped around my knees. Here I was, a prisoner in this gilded cage, condemned to bear the children of a traitor until flames consumed us all.

Aemond crouched before me, his wrists resting on his knees. He regarded me with an intensity that bordered on scientific curiosity. A flicker of something, perhaps disappointment, played at his edges.

“I’d take you for many things, wife,” he cooed, the endearment dripping with veiled malice. “But weak was not one of them.” His words landed like a body blow. “If I’d known you’d crumble so easily, I would never have wed you in the first place.”

I sniffed and looked up at him, exhaustion a heavy cloak on my lids. “You did not have much of a say in the matter,” I countered.

A wicked smile twisted his lips and his head tilted to the side. “No,” he said softly. A sudden chill iced his demeanor. “And neither do you.”

He rose to his feet with predacious grace, leaving me pleated on the floor. He sauntered to his chair and seated himself, one leg propped up on his knee, his leather splaying atop the arm rests.

I watched him. His face was turned to the violent storm outside, immersed in contemplation, lightning whipping across his features. A vision of menace. A weapon poised to strike.

“So, what is your scheme, Aemond?” I started; my voice hoarse. His head turned slowly, his gaze locking onto mine with the piercing intensity of Valyrian steel. “Do you envision a period of mourning for the King, followed by a convenient acclamation in your favor? Or will you hurry along the succession and carry out the deed yourself before anyone suspects?”

A single corner of his mouth quirked into a cruel smile. “Suppose I have not yet decided.” His voice was like liquid.

Defiance flickered within me. “The court will never agree to this once they find out what you’ve done.”

Aemond hummed, a deep sound in the bottom of his chest. “Dragons don’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.” He leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees. “I am next in line to the throne,” he drawled. “None is better suited than I.”

I staggered to my feet and went to sit beside him. “With a legitimate heir,” I said carefully. “Your claim would be uncontested.”

He smirked, as though I’d read his mind. He leaned back, his eyes gleaming with dangerous delight.

“A woman’s pleasure is,” he began, a slow, suggestive smile playing on his lips. His blue eye drifted down my form in a way that made my skin crawl. “Of as much importance as the seed itself.”

A hot flush crept up my cheeks at his implication.

“Which is why submission must be a willing act,” he finished, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.

I swallowed, provocation crackling through me. Did he truly believe I would succumb to his advances? He seemed to think he could manipulate anyone to his will, whether through seduction or brutality, though I had yet to see the former.

“And if I refuse?” I challenged, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, his face soft. “Then you’ll find yourself counted amongst the sheep,” he drawled.

Deflating, I sighed and dipped my head. The only path forward seemed excruciatingly clear. Raising my eyes to meet his, I lifted an eyebrow in rebellion.

“Consider me sheep then.” With that, I rose from the settee and strode towards the apartment doors, the cold of the metal handle stealing the warmth from my fingers as I heaved it open.

It shut then, with a loud thud, and I jumped, a sudden heat radiating behind me. Aemond’s fingers splayed on the oak door above my head. My pulse drummed in my ears, Aemond’s lips grazing my lobe, urging it to pick up the pace.

“Jaelā naejot mazverdagon nyke jorarghutan ao, ābrazȳrys?” (You want to make me chase you, wife?) His voice rumbled into me, a low growl as potent as the thunderstorm.

The rolling, guttural words sent a strange warmth through my core. His air consumed me. A rich mixture of smoke, leather, and dragon, infiltrated my senses, intoxicating and unsettling in equal measure.

“I can’t understand you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I felt him smiling against my ear, a low chuckle reverberating into it, sending goosebumps erupting across my skin.

“You won't need to,” he said softly. His hand drifted away from the door and closed around my throat, surprisingly gentle, yet the warmth of his fingers felt like embers branding my skin. They snaked around the back of my neck, the pressure tightening as he turned me to face him. His single eye, a bottomless well of intricacy, held mine captive.

My gaze flickered down to his lips. They were curved into a wicked grin.

His scent became a suffocating presence. The heat radiating from his body, fervid as a dragon, made sweat bead on my forehead. My entire being screamed I was at his mercy. He could crush my life out with a mere squeeze, or worse, with his single eye, he could strip me bare without ever laying a hand on me.

But a strange fire flickered within me, a rebellion against his dominion. My hands, fueled by a desperate need for control, reached out and began loosening his doublet, my fingers slow and deliberate.

Aemond stilled, his eye falling to my movements. He watched, transfixed, as I unfastened the green leather halfway down his chest, then trailed my fingers lower. His gaze darkened and his breath grew uneven, as the bulge beneath his belt pressed against my touch.

A visceral desire flared within me, a response I couldn’t fully comprehend. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, slowly drifting between my thighs at the sight of his desire.

His grip softened at my nape, and with a surge of defiance, I ripped myself free from his hold, and landed a heavy blow to his stomach. But a wave of terror washed over me when Aemond barely flinched.

Panic clawed at my throat.

Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I flung open the chamber doors and fled, the sound of my pounding heart echoing in my ears.

AEMOND

The aftershock of her blow lingered, a dull ache radiating from my gut, while I allowed her to make her escape. Fury, a familiar companion, usually surged through me, promising retribution, suggesting to make her death appear an accident. This time, however, a different heat consumed me, a mix of surprise and… arousal.

Rarely did I misjudge a person. Yet, the meek mouse I’d wed had transformed into a daring she-wolf before my very eyes. This escape attempt, fueled by defiance, was a revelation. It made my dick hard.

A rapacious glint flickered in my eye. A grudging respect, laced with something far more primal, coiled in my gut. I had underestimated her, and the unexpected turn of events had ignited a spark within me.

A smirk twisted my lips, and I hummed with satisfaction, the thrill of the hunt coursing through me.

“Jaelā naejot tymagon?” (You want to play?) I murmured, the challenge laced with amusement. “Kesi tymagon.” (Let’s play.)

I started into the storm-ridden castle.

YOU

Immediate regret shot through me with a pang, a cold fist squeezing my breath.

To toy with a dragon was like asking to get burned.

My lungs screamed in protest, my legs burning with each step down the Red Keep’s slick stone steps. Blood, metallic and sharp, left traces in my mouth as I hoisted my cumbersome gown to avoid tripping. The castle shuddered from the storm, which groaned and wailed its onslaught. Guards stood stoic at their posts, their expressions unreadable underneath silver helms. Appealing to them was a fool’s errand.

None dared defy the one-eyed prince.

Driven by blind instinct, I found myself pushing through the massive doors of the throne room.

The Iron Throne, a monstrous silhouette of twisted blades, dominated the chamber, its edges flashing white-hot under the lightning’s fury. I stumbled towards it, chest heaving, gasping for air.

If it truly was cursed, could touching it offer some strange absolution, a release from the gilded cage that was my life? Surely, it couldn’t be worse than the fate that awaited me back in his clutches.

Ascension. My trembling legs carried me up the steps, each one a monumental effort. Reaching the top, I lingered to sit, an action so simple, yet it loomed so immensely in my mind.

“Waiting to make your peace with the gods?” came a voice, and I turned with a gasp.

Aemond stood in the middle of the room, arms slotted behind his back, approaching with slow, menacing steps, like a predator savoring the hunt. Thunder boomed overhead.

“No,” I countered, spite flaring hot in my chest. “Waiting for you to catch up so I can meet them myself,” I said, descending the steps.

“Once more, so quick to admit defeat,” he taunted, venom dripping from his words like the rain outside.

I studied his sharp features, while the burden of my reality settled like a weight in my chest. “There is no escaping you,” I gritted out, holding his heavy gaze.

His violence loomed heavy, and depravity flickered in his gaze. “Your perception waxes,” he conceded, and suddenly, the world tilted on its axis as he scooped me up and tossed me effortlessly over his broad shoulder.

The journey back to his chambers was a furious ballet of resistance. My limbs flailed wildly, desperate for purchase, and obscenities, laced with an untenable fear, ripped from my throat.

A sharp slap landed on my behind, eliciting a yelp of surprised pain.

“The more you struggle,” he growled, the sound a low rumble in his chest, “the worse it will be.”

A part of me recognized the truth in his words, yet a bestial defiance warred within, refusing to yield. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I lunged for his silver hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking with all my might.

He hissed through his teeth, followed by a guttural sound echoing deep within him. “Ilībōños,” (Bitch/Bastard) he cursed.

The apartment door slammed shut behind us as he entered, his movements purposeful. With a rough toss, I landed unceremoniously on the bed, the air whooshing out of my lungs on impact. Fury, a searing inferno, consumed me, each cell screaming in protest, my claws unsheathing. I wanted to hurt him.

Anything within reach became a potential weapon. Pillows, a discarded jeweled comb – I hurled them all at him, each item a silent scream of rebellion. But his movements were swift, each projectile dodged with practiced ease.

Frustration mounted, morphing into a desperate rage. I lunged at him, a clumsy attempt to push him back. But he remained immovable, an unyielding mountain. Undeterred, I pushed again, and again, fueled by a futile contempt.

Finally, as I drew back for another pointless shove, his hands shot out, lightning fast, pinning my arms to my sides. He moved swiftly, his body caging mine in a steely embrace.

“Lykirī,” he hummed, the word a low thrum against my ear.

“Fuck you,” I spat, my chest heaving from my ambush.

Did he mistake me for his winged beast that he could command to his will?

My attempt to wiggle out of his hold was a pointless endeavour. Rage crackled in my veins, but it flickered under his touch. My breath hitched as he leaned closer, the heat of his body searing through my gown. The scent of him, smoke and leather, filled my senses. And the undeniable press of his erection against my stomach sent a jolt through me.

This perverted man was enjoying my defiance. His grip tightened, a teasing hold that both frustrated and excited me. My body, traitor that it was, started to soften against him, a spark igniting beneath the embers of anger.

“Have you had your fill of my company?” he whispered, his voice husky against my ear. His hands trailed down my arms, sending shivers skittering across my skin.

Every rational part of me screamed to break free, to run for the tunnels, to fight back. But the intoxication of his touch, the heat radiating from him, the suggestive murmur against my ear – they all conspired to trap me.

Before I could think, my head slowly turned from one side to the other.

He hummed deeply. “Say it.”

Frustration warred with a strange vulnerability within me. My cheeks burned, and I clenched my jaw hard enough to taste blood.

“I haven't.”

“You haven't what?”

Fury flickered back to life, fueled by his smug grin and the realization of how easily he’d manipulated me.

“I haven't had enough,” I gritted out, the words a reluctant surrender.

A growl of satisfaction escaped him before he grasped me by my throat, pushed me back against the wall, and tasted my next breath on his tongue.

His lips, hot and demanding, devoured mine like a beggar, silencing the gasp that threatened to escape. Heat, a wildfire erupting at the junction of our bodies threatened to consume me. Fury, a simmering ember, still flickered within. I shoved against his chest and stomped on his feet; futile attempts against his unyielding form.

“Gaomagon vīlībagon nyke daor,” (Do not fight me) he said roughly against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. “Kesā botagon daor.” (You would not survive)

I didn’t understand him, and it urged on my fury. I opened my mouth with a quip in mind, but he used that opportunity to slide his tongue inside, hot and wet. The anger threatened to drown the blossoming desire, creating a tempestuous war within. I panted, torn between resistance and a strange, unfamiliar need, a fever writhing and pulsing inside my veins. My hands clenched in the rough leather of his doublet, a desperate attempt to maintain some sort of control.

I closed my teeth on his bottom lip, and he hissed sharply, encircling my throat with his hand, pushing me against the stone.

“Kelītīs,” (Stop) he growled.

The question of whether he even realized he was speaking High Valyrian was a fleeting thought. I melted into his rough hold, to his wicked mouth crashing against mine again and again, getting lost in the hot glide of his tongue. His rough kisses, the frantic press of his body, all contrived to unravel my carefully constructed defenses. A soft moan escaped my lips as my nipples brushed against his chest, sending sparks lower. He groaned low in his throat, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth.

With practiced ease, he untied the strings of my dress, letting the fabric pool around my ankles. I stood there in only my kirtle, breathless under his heated gaze. A dark groan rumbled from his chest as he slipped his hands beneath my thighs, effortlessly lifting me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His grip tightened on my bare flesh, a touch too rough, and I retaliated with another yank on his silver hair. An angry sound erupted in his throat as he attempted to shake off my grip.

He carried us to the bed, the world tilting on its axis as he settled me on top of him. Our mouths met in a frantic clash, a tangle of tongues and heated breaths. We tore away from each other briefly, just long enough for him to pull my kirtle over my head.

Naked and exposed, I felt a shiver dance across my skin under the intensity of his gaze. Something dark moved through his eye, and my skin prickled with goosebumps.

He gripped the swell of my hips, his palms sliding upward, a slow exploration that sent sparks igniting in my blood. The fight drained from me, replaced by a heavy languor. His fingers, surprisingly gentle for a cold-blooded killer, traced patterns across my skin, before cupping my breasts into a rough grip. A soft moan escaped my lips as his thumb brushed a nipple, and pleasure rushed to my core. He leaned in and closed his mouth over a peak, drawing it in with a slow, gentle suck. My head fell back, a groan escaping my throat. My hands filtered into his thick silver, my fingers impulsively easing off the leather tie that kept it out of his face, and it went cascading around his features like spills of moonlight.

Awe mingled with desire as I watched him continue to explore my body, his mouth leaving a trail of wet heat across my skin. I cupped his sharp face in my hands, the rational, caged side of me screaming to tear him off me. I made weak, pitiful attempts to do so, but Aemond growled his disapproval and sucked my nipple hard. The wet heat of his mouth tugged between my legs as he moved to the other, flames curling low in my stomach. I ground down on him, my wet entrance dampening the dark leather of his breeches, the friction sending a delicious heat through my core. A moan ripped from his lips.

I was on fire, a confusing mix of desire and desperation clawing at me. I needed something more, something to push me over the edge. My body moved of its own accord, grinding harder, seeking that elusive release.

He released my nipple with a graze of teeth that sent a jolt of white heat through me, and looked up at me with his eye dark like the storm.

“Skoros gaomagon jaelā?” (What do you crave?), he rumbled.

Exhaustion gnawed at me, but a visceral need pulsed deep within. “Please,” I pleaded, the word a ragged whisper escaping my lips, the frustration of the language barrier a dull ache compared to the firestorm raging in my core. “More,” I begged, grinding against his erection with desperate mewlings.

When his hand lowered to palm my pussy, my skin caught on fire, burning me from scalp to toes. Desire inflated in my throat when he ran his hand up my neck, into my hair, grabbing a fistful and using it to arch my head back, his touch both possessive and arousing.

“Is this what you desire?” he rasped against my throat, his voice husky with restrained passion. His calloused thumb began drawing circles on my clit, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent frustration battling with a rising tide of pleasure.

I nodded desperately. “Yes,” I gasped.

He slipped two fingers into my wetness, and I arched my back, groaning in pleasure and a little pain, his fingers filling me up to the brim. My hands found purchase in his hair, anchoring myself as he moved his digits, flames of pleasure licking at my walls.

Ecstasy unfurled in my veins like milk of the poppy, mind-numbing, delirious, as he slid his thick fingers in and out of me, rubbing a sensitive spot deep within. Hot pressure expanded, and my eyes rolled back in my head. A throaty moan escaped my lips with every thrust of his fingers and a delicious rumble rolled in his chest.

His grip around my hair suddenly vanished and his thumb began rubbing circles on my clit as he fingered me. I cried out, the intensity overwhelming, and I braced myself on his leather-covered shoulders, a cold sweat starting beneath my skin.

“Sholīze,” (You’re so wet), he groaned against my skin, the word a brand that sent shivers lancing through me, the heat beneath the surface threatening to erupt. I rolled my hips on his fingers, and a satisfied growl escaped his mouth, his eye dropping to witness me riding his hand as my pleasure ran down his wrist, my leg and onto his lap.

“Shkelagon zhēdys,” (You’re making a mess), he whispered into my mouth, swallowing my desperate cries.

A third finger, bold and intrusive, slid inside, the added pressure sending me over the edge. My vision swam, black dots exploding at the edges. My heart pounded to the fire searing through every nerve in my body. Throaty moans tore from my lips over and over, as I clenched around his moving fingers. He groaned with dark satisfaction, encircling my waist, pressing me against him as I rode out my orgasm.

The storm within me subsided slowly. His fingers, once urgent, now moved slowly in and out of me while I caught my breath and the ringing in my ears faded. He didn’t withdraw until he’d coaxed out the very last tremor of pleasure from my body.

A languorous warmth, a deep sense of satiation unlike anything I’d ever known, bloomed within me.

Lost in the afterglow, I trailed kisses up his neck, small noises of contentment escaping my lips.

“Gevie,” he panted, slipping his fingers out of me.

I knew that word.

Beautiful.

AEMOND

I never thought the act of making an heir would be this… riveting.

So much pure heat, flame and pleasure, fueled not just by my own desire, but by the sight of her pleasure burgeoning under my touch. It was a new prospect entirely. I could have reached my own release simply from witnessing hers.

But this was not going to make an heir, after all.

She ran her fingers over my erection, her lips and teeth teasing a line down my neck as she came down from her high. My hand, forearm and lap were slick from her sweet desire.

She settled back into my lap, a vision of post-orgasmic bliss. Her eyes, usually bright and defiant, were now hooded with languid satisfaction, her cheeks flushed a becoming crimson. Her lips, slightly parted, breathed shallowly. I pushed my thumb between them, and she met the intrusion with a beckoning glide of her tongue, the wet heat settling in my groin. I pulled my thumb free, wiping the evidence of her touch across her lips.

This woman, this force of nature, was mine. My wife.

Lightning played across her features like she was its master. Like she embodied the raw power of the storm.

Untamed, fierce, fuckable.

She was molded just for me.

Her fingers, tracing a familiar path down my doublet, encountered the bulge straining against the fabric, my dick throbbing at her faintest touch.

“Take it off,” she said, working on the buckle. I reached my hands up my neck, loosening the doublet from my frame.

“Do not attempt any strikes this time,” I drawled, a playful challenge in my voice. I relished the smile that spread across her lips.

“You have my word,” she said softly.

The leather of my arms whispered down, discarded on the floor like a shed skin. Her eyes ignited with raw desire, a flickering flame that mirrored the inferno that had been building within me. Her fingers, hesitant at first, traced a path down my chest, my abs, further, until her hand slipped beneath my breeches and over the length of my dick.

I hissed through my teeth. The heat, a branding iron searing flesh, intensified as her hand, unsure but determined, wrapped around my erection, heat curling at the base of my spine. Her hesitant touch grew more confident as she stroked me from base to head with smooth, gentle motions, sending a low groan rumbling from my chest.

I grabbed her face and grazed her chin with my teeth, making her stroke me harder. “I’ll fill you with my seed, wife,” I growled, the words rough against her skin. A promise, a threat, a declaration of possession – all rolled into one.

Her sigh held a hint of resignation, contrasting the fire in her eyes. “As long as you’ll leave me alone once you’re done,” she mumbled, the words laced with quiet defiance.

Fury, a red-hot ember, flared within me.

I threw her down on her knees on the bed and yanked her head back by her hair until her head rested against my shoulder. The vulnerability in her exposed throat fueled a dark avarice within me. My erection pressed against the heat of her ass, restraint becoming an impossible enemy.

“You’re bound to me now,” I growled in her ear, the words a possessive vow. “You’re not going anywhere.”

A ghost of a smile played on her lips, a silent challenge that both frustrated and excited me. I leaned in, whispering a single word against her ear, “Ñuhon.” (Mine) I nipped her earlobe, making her hiss.

When I released her, she sagged forward, head hanging low. Her shoulders slumped, and she lowered herself onto her hands, the curve of her backside a sight that ignited a fresh wave of heat within me.

I discarded my breeches, the urgency a physical ache in my core. Kneeling behind her, I pushed two fingers inside of her. She clenched down on me so tightly. I groaned and pulled my fingers free. As I rubbed the head of my cock against her wet opening, the heat of it almost burned me. A tremble coasted throat her, and her fingers gripped the sheets, bracing herself.

I eased into her, and, gods spare me, she was so fucking tense, to the point she nearly resisted me entirely. I caressed her ass, her hips, running my hand up and down her back, attempting to relax her, uttering words I scarcely knew were the Common Tongue or High Valyrian.

“Vīrȳn (take it), you’re so fucking wet, gūrogon mirre yno (take all of me).”

Until her walls softened and I watched myself slide into her, until I was as deep as I could go.

Seven Hells.

The feeling was overwhelming. The way she clutched me like a wet fist. Every cell in me ached for more, to fuck her hard, relentlessly, but I gave her a moment to adjust, squeezing her, running my hands all over her.

Soon, she was rocking back against me, and I gave her what she wanted, pulling out all the way before slowly pushing back in, every inch of me vanishing. She groaned and dropped her face to the bed, fisting the sheets in her hands. I gripped the swell of her hips, guiding her warm, wet pussy onto my throbbing dick over and over, watching their salacious union, my sight darkening at the squelching sounds that ensued. A deep hum erupted from my chest.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hooded with lust, settling on each lazy thrust.

“Iksis ao bisa ijiōrtan?” (Is this pleasing you?) I rasped, but before she could answer, I fucked her a little harder. It occurred to me that she probably could not have understood what I’d been saying half the time.

Her head fell forward, and the sight of her biting down on her hand to quiet her moans sent a heady rush to my head, lighting me on fire.

Thunder rolled overhead.

I was completely lost in the heat of her, taking her hard, watching her ass bounce against me with every thrust. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against my chest.

She was panting, fucked into soft compliancy.

“To whom do you belong?” I growled in her ear.

She didn’t resist any of my advances this time. “You,” she breathed.

“Say my name.”

“Aemond.”

“And who is your King?”

“Aemond.”

My grip snaked and tightened around her neck as I fucked her.

“Say it.”

“You’re the King, Your Grace,” she whined. “The first of your name.”

It set me on fire.

I pushed her back down and fucked her through her second orgasm, holding her hips up when her legs gave out. She shuddered and clenched around me, the pressure sending licking fires down my back, threatening to erupt. I gritted my teeth as I came inside of her, a white, hot fire shooting through me so hard, my vision went black.

My muscles shook from the aftershock.

I doubled over her, letting my forehead rest on her back as we came down.

When I pulled out of her, I watched my seed leak out of her entrance like white tears. I plugged it with my fingers, burrowing deep inside of her, and she gasped.

“Dragonseed is precious,” I rumbled into her ear. “Would not want it to go to waste.” I kissed her temple.

“Tepagon aōha dārys iā dārilaros, dōna ābrazȳrys.” (Give your king an heir, sweet wife)

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