#aemond targaryen x strong!oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bks-writing-adventures · 7 months ago

Text

His Strong Girl (Aemond X Strong! Reader)

Warnings: Brief mentions of bullying and gore, brief mentions of sex, Alicent being a momzilla.

Word Count: 6.5 K

Summary: Aemond has always loved his Strong Girl, she's nearly of age to mary, and he wants her before anyone else can have her.

120 AC

As children, Aemond had always loved her. Even though he knew that he should not. His mother filled his brain with poison, to hate Rhaenyra and all that was part of her, and that included her children. The Strong children, all four of them. It was easy to hate Jace and Luke. They teased him. They found him a pig and called him the second son. They laughed at him and kept them out of their fun. They were kind to the other children in the court, but for reasons he could not understand, he was different. It was so hard on his young brain. He was all that he was supposed to be. H

e could read and write, he had light hair and light eyes. He always prayed at dinner time, and he always wore clean clothes, always had his hair brushed. He did all of his lessons. So what ever could be wrong with him? When Joffrey came along, it was easy to hate him, too. There was no doubt that he would grow into the sculpting hands of his older brothers. As soon as he would talk, he would be name calling and lying too. But when it came to her. Well, it was impossible.

Her eyes were warm and kind, muddy brown like her brothers and her father. There was a small distance of age between them, a year and a half, but he could hardly tell. She was smart for her age. She was not puzzled by her lessons, and she listened well, could smile and nod. She cut her own food and lived in her own world. He kept his distance for a long time, whenever the whole family was forced together for weddings and funerals. But slowly, like butter beneath rays of sun, he warmed. He grew calm in her presence and peeled back his layers to be vulnerable.

To meet her in the library when she was in her pyjamas, and to whisper gossip that they had picked up in the halls. He had two sides of him. The side that hated the Strongs, and the side that loved. He was good at making sure they did not cross, that was, until the day his aunt died. He never knew much of her. He knew that she was pretty and powerful and rode the greatest dragon in the world. But he did not cry for her. He only stayed quiet as the respects were paid, and his eyes wandered the mourners for her.

She was caught up between her brothers and their cousins. Black looked odd on her. She always wore pink or blue, maybe red, but hardly ever. Despite being half Targaryen, she had no like for the color. She was all about pastels and ruffles and frilliness. He frowned as he watched, and the feet between them felt like miles. As the group looked over to him, he offered an awkward grin, only to be returned with nothing. His heart sunk deeper into his body, and he tried to give her a light wave, to grab her attention.

But there was nothing he could do, and he could feel her slowly slipping from his fingers. Disappointment ate away at him, and he said nothing to her the entire day. And she made no effort to talk to him, either. And so when evening came and he was alone, with no gossip to speak of in the library, and no puzzles to put together, he found himself in the dragon pit. Tiptoeing carefully, listening to the snore of beasts who had survived all of the worlds wars. The scratch of their claws against stone, and finally, the hiss of fire as it nearly caressed his face.

The sight of Vhagar was one unmatched, and he moved as though he were being controlled, a mere puppet of the gods as he slowly climbed the scaly creature. He screamed into the wind as it lapped at his hair, and he laughed with joy as they landed with a thump and a roar. All that he was missing in his life was against his palms, and his skin burned with the leather of the saddle. His heart had gone above the clouds, and it hadn’t come down, even as his shaky feet hit the floor, a smile bigger than he had ever worn stretched across his face as he moved to scurry away and back to bed.

He would tell his mother in the morning. She would be so proud. But fate had something else brewing for him, and he was met with the sight of his nephews and his cousins. He clung to the words he had heard from his mothers lips, and he threw them mindlessly as fists collided in the air. He did not remember half of it. And he did not know when it would end, gripping blindly at whatever he could find. A stone the size of his foot, lifting it above his head quickly, every one of his cells begging him to go through with the action. It could have only been a second, maybe not even.

From the moment he saw the dagger in his little nephews hand, he knew that this was all over. This temporary shot of joy, and it died like a flame to ash as blood soaked his hand. He couldn’t hear his scream, but he could feel it deep in his lungs as he smacked against the ground, clawing at it. He shouted profanities as the guards dragged him to the maesters. He stared at his mothers face, and he sat still as he was surrounded by all of his family. And as he prayed for comfort, he was met with only fighting.

Shouting back and forth between his mother and sister, his father was of no help, and every other moment he was stabbed with a needle, his mouth curling at the feeling as his nails scratched against the armrest of the chair. He knew the eye was gone, but seeing it laying broken in a dish like the bad parts of a chicken. It broke him, and he stared at the wall as blood hit the floor, and when he was finally asked where he had heard the words he shouted, he stared at his mother. Her brows were furrowed, a deep crevasse in the middle. Her brown eyes were shining with a mix of sadness and fury, a touch of fear as she looked over at him. He swallowed his pain and spoke a lie.

“Aegon.” He whispered out, and shut his eye for the rest to come. The last thing he remembered of that night was the look on her face, and the way her fingers curled, as if she wished to reach out and touch him, only to be quickly whisked away by Rhaenyra and Daemon. That was the night he decided his mother was right about them. All of them. Even his sweet, Strong girl. Because if she were truly strong, she would have come to him. Despite their orders, she would’ve comforted him. But instead, he was alone. Alone and scarred.

127 AC

When he learned that his sister and her bastard children would be coming to his home, he tried his best to act as normal as he could. He ate his breakfast of pork and eggs, sharpened his sword and trained with Ser Criston. He ignored the groans of his brother, and watched quietly as his sister bounced her babies on her legs. He could almost smile. But he knew exactly how the children came to be. And if Aegon were not his brother, Aemond would have his head on the wall. Dread grew in his stomach as the sun reached its peak, and he hit against Criston’s sword with the ferocity of a thousand men. With every strike, he thought of the night he lost his eye. He thought of the dagger against his skin, the way he was treated so coldly, and how she had done nothing. And every night after that he felt as though he were frozen, reliving the moment over and over. He could feel the pain in his cheek and forehead with every twitch in his lips.

Soon, the Prince promised he would stop smiling altogether, because maybe then, the pain would stop. And so when he saw his nephews, he stared them down, like a wolf to a rabbit. He liked to watch their discomfort, but his gaze, much to his distaste, softened when he caught sight of her behind them. She had grown beautiful with the years that had passed. Her once chubby cheeks were still round and flushed from the cool air, and her brown curls were pulled back by pins. She wore a pink gown that leaned toward purple, a bit dusty in its tone, covered in small swirls and patterns that he could not process from where he stood. His sweet girl. Her eyes were large, and freckles covered her. He didn’t remember her ever having freckles before, and it took Criston’s voice to break him from his trance.

“You will be ready for the tourneys in no time, My Prince,” the Knight spoke, to wish he scoffed.

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” He responded, his voice quiet and cold. He did not see the pint in galloping around on a horse, fighting other men and yelling like animals, all for the attention of ladies that were as shallow as a tide pool. No. He would save himself for her, if she would have him. And he was certain she would.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked, his voice louder than before, brows raised. Jace turned to look at his younger brother, and their faces paled. They were afraid, and the thought made Aemond’s heart fill with joy. He threw his sword to the dirt for his men to pick up later.

“And what of you, niece?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. Jace moved his shoulder to create a wall between them, but it did nothing for her curious eyes. She simply stood on her tiptoes, looked at him, and smiled. The sight brought a smirk to his lips, and when he walked to his chambers, he did so with a newfound confidence. He was quick to change into his outfit for the evening, one that covered every inch of his body, not even his wrists exposed. It made him feel better. As if it hid everything under. As if he were not still the runt of the litter. Even with all his training, he could never seem to grow.

He would always be the smallest of his kin, but what he lacked in size, he could make up for in skill. He could hardly wait for the evening meal. He was not hungry, but he was thrilled. To see her, to tease her. And maybe, if he were lucky, she would meet him in the library like old times. As he paced back and forth, he practically counted down the minutes until the sun finally fell. He groaned as they gathered for yet another meeting, but he could put up with it, if it meant seeing her.

She stood beside her mother, and it was only then that he could see a hint of resemblance between them. They had the same way of standing, and they were close in height. They shared a curved nose and a cunning gaze, but she only wore it softer. She had not yet seen violence, she had not watched the light fall from a mans eyes. She had not yet lost a love, and he could see her smile softly as the betrothals of her brothers were announced. He relished in the way that she nudged her brothers and gave them a teasing raise of brow before she remembered her surroundings, trying to return to her previously serious demeanor.

A smile pulled at his lips, and his eye narrowed as he stared at her, compelling her to look up at him. Please. He thought to himself, feeling his heart leap as their eyes met. She was just so beautiful. But the peace of her gaze was quickly broken when Vaemond began to speak of their heritage, and Aemond watched in displeasure as her brows furrowed, as her big eyes stared at the floor in shame.

The others, he could smile at. But to see her caught in the fight, to see her be called names.

It disgusted him. His back stiffened, and he bit his tongue. He would have plenty of time to speak to her later, to hold her in the years to come, to fuck the bastardy out of her. But he would have to wait. His hands curled in on themselves, and in a fraction of a moment, Vaemond was gone. His head hit the floor with a sloppy thump, Helaena turned away, her eyes huge and her hands on her head, and he watched as his Strong Girl practically mirrored her, her thumbs pressed against her ears and her fingers over her eyes. He sighed, staring at the body on the floor, his gaze slowly following the bloody sword until he was gazing at his uncle. Daemon. An interesting man he was. And slowly, Aemond smiled. This would be an interesting night.

When dinner time came, he took his seat and looked at the rest of the table. Baela and Rhaena, Rhaenyra and Daemon, and next to them, there she was. He smiled a little to himself. They always did that, sitting around her like a human shield, practically hiding her from his view. He followed his mothers words as she called for prayer, and he smiled to himself as his mother spoke of Vaemond Velaryon. The old man could never shut his mouth. The food came out in small rounds, starting with potatoes and bread, and he gazed at her as he licked the remnants of potato from his thumb.

Her eyes were so big, and he loved watching her cheeks get nice and flushed. And even more, he loved seeing how angry her brothers got, all while her mother remained clueless. When the main course came out, he stared in silence as the roasted pig sat in front of him. He could tell how this was going to go, lifting his head to stare right at Luke, seeing the beginning’s of a smile on his mouth. His hands curled into fists, and just as he moved to stand, she spoke. “Luke. Do not be impolite,” She whispered softly. She was soft and sweet, but she had such a bold presence to her when she wanted it.

“But-” Luke began, and she gently shook her head. “Eat your carrots. Mother said to be on our best behavior,” She said softly, reaching over to start cutting his soft boiled carrots up. Aemond frowned, slowly leaning back. He had so much anger to release, and no real reason to release it. She was a gem, that girl. She could so easily diffuse a situation. She was the type of woman that she be on the throne. They could share it together, one day. As the evening grew old and their stomachs were full, the music began to flow delicately on the harps. As soon as he saw Jace’s eyes brighten, he stood, walking around the table like a shark circling a helpless seal, placing his hands on the back of her chair.

“Aemond,” His mother spoke up, her voice filled with caution as she sat up straight. “Do not worry, mother. I only wish to know if my lovely, strong girl wants to dance with me,” He responded, his fingertips moving across her curls. Rhaenyra bit her cheek, and he could feel the tension growing like a cage.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys spoke, his hands flat on the table.

“Brother,” She said softly, gazing back at him. Their eyes met for nearly ten seconds, and finally, he looked away. “I will dance with you,” She spoke, pulling her chair from the table and gently taking his hand. “If you promise not to stomp on my toes,” She says, teasing him a little as he pulled her to the stone tiles.

“I will do my very best,” He whispered, his hands curling around hers. Her touch was so delicate, and he found himself taking a small whiff of her wrist. Raspberries and cashews. It was a unique scent, but it was hers. He wanted to bathe in it, paint it onto his pillow. “I have missed you,” He said softly. And he had. He often found himself dreaming of the possibilities. Of bringing Vhagar to her bedroom window. Of taking her to the skies and bringing her to the forest, where they were not a Prince and a Princess, but only teenagers in love. “You will be a woman grown soon,” He said softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms as he spun her under his arms. It would only be eight months before they were the same age, and it was only eight months before she would finally be on the marriage market. He just had to make his claim before anyone else could.

“I know,” She said softly, her fingers trailing to the cuffs on his wrist, touching the golden dragons with her gentle strokes. “I feel as though I was 9 only yesterday,” She mumbled, and he smiled in return.

“Tell me about it,” He mumbled, his hands moving down to her waist, his touch gentle. His eye wandered to the necklaces she wore, the ones that layered. The shortest was to her collarbone, and the longest was just between her breasts. A seahorse. A Velaryon symbol, something that didn’t belong to her, and they all knew it. His fingers slowly wandered to it, his thumb rubbing against the emerald eyes and the golden details. “This is a symbol of your fathers house, is it not?” He asked softly. His fingers slowly wandered up to cup her face, his fingers against her jaw, licking his lips.

“It is a symbol of the sea,” She said quietly, and he could see the turmoil in her eyes. He could feel the gaze of his family on him, and he knew they would not be pleased. But his mother was simply delighted, a scheming smile on her face.

“You like the sea, my lady?” He mumbled softly. They were hardly dancing anymore, he was just holding her close, holding her face, his thumb pressing against her lips.

“Who does not?” She asked softly, smiling a bit. She was always so sweet when she spoke of the sea, and he could see so much excitement in his eyes.

“I must admit, I have never had great love for it. Smells of salt and dying fish, and sand simply gets everywhere, the seagulls chase me,” He mumbles, making her laugh a little, brows raised in amusement.

“Perhaps they just like the look of you,” She said, and he smiled, head tilted.

“Is that what you think?” He asked.

“Well, if I were a seagull, I would go for you. Your hair would make a good nest,” She teases, making his eye roll. “But truly, you must be going to the worst spots. I have missed Kingslanding. The shores are beautiful,” She says. His heart thumped, and he found himself gazing into her eyes.

“Then you should stay,” He responded softly, leaning a little closer. It was hard to remember that they were surrounded, and that they were not the only people in the world.

“And how would I go about that?” She asked softly.

“You could marry me,” He spoke softly, and the whole room went silent, the notes on the harp fading out. Her brows raised, and she looked like she might giggle. She couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, blinking slowly.

“You do not mean that,” She said softly.

“Oh, but I do. You would be so happy here.” He mumbled, pushing some falling curls behind her ears, whispering gently against her skin.

“Wait for me, will you?” He mumbled. Her face flushed, and he could practically feel her heart pounding beneath her skin. She was about to speak, but the doors opened and cakes began to roll out, small cups of pudding, trays of lemon cakes and cookies.

“(Y/N), come sit,” Rhaenyra called, and she gazed up at Aemond for a moment, as if trying to speak, but nothing would come out. Slowly, they parted, moving to go back to their seats. Her cheeks were so warm, and she prayed that no one else could tell under the warm light of the candles. Immediately, Rhaenyra leaned toward her, searching her face for discomfort.

“What did he say to you?” She asked, noting the odd look of.. Something on her daughters face. It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t discomfort. She just couldn’t place that expression.

“Nothing, mother,” She said softly. All eyes were on her, and Daemon wore a smirk like a man would wear a crown.

“I believe she has feelings for the boy,” He whispered, making Rhaenyra’s eyes widen. She looked disgusted, for a brief moment, but she quickly hid her distaste, blinking it away as she took lemon cakes onto her plate.

“We will talk about this later,” She said quietly, plucking the sweetened lemons from the top of the cake and placing one in her mouth. Daemon reached over and took the cake itself. They had a system. She would eat the fruits, and he would eat the parts she did not want. Meanwhile, she reached for a cookie, breaking it into small pieces on her plate, trying her best not to look at Aemond. She could tell that he was getting the same treatment on his side of the table, a knowing smile on his face as his mother shook his arm, trying to juice information out of him. He only chuckled to himself, taking a few sips of his wine. When the dinner finally ended, she was a blushing mess as she followed her mother, looking over her shoulder to see Aemond going in the other direction, a silent agreement in their eyes. They would see each other in the library tonight. As she took her bath, all she could think of was him.

Him and his offer, and the more she thought of it, the more she smiled. She trusted him more than she ever could a stranger. And she began to think of how she could convince her mother to let it happen. She trusted that Aemond would never hurt her. Maybe men that acted out of their place, maybe annoying nephews at the dinner table, but never her, and she was confident in that. And perhaps the marriage could bring the family together. Rhaenyra had wanted Jace to marry Helaena, after all. She did have a desire for the families to mix. That was it. That would be her selling point. “Some time alone, please?” She asked the maids as they scrubbed her body and hands.

“Of course, Princess,” They responded, quickly leaving. She sighed softly, ringing out her loofa as she looked at the mirror. Perhaps if she had children with Aemond, they would come out with white hair. Maybe they would have a better life than her. Her eyes then wandered to her seahorse necklace, and she remembered her father, before his death. Her life had been an odd one. She felt like she had a new father every couple of years, and in truth, she had. She had the father who’s seed she grew from, who taught her how to count and tucked her into bed during his shifts on the nightwatch.

She had the father who taught her how to fish, and which shells made the best necklaces, and which crabs were dangerous. And then she had the father that taught her to be bold, the one who married her mother the day after his own wife died. That had been a tough one, and in truth, she still was not warmed to Daemon. She did not like the way he treated her precious mother, and she swore to herself that she would never have a marriage like theirs. When she was finally dried of her bath, she looked out to the stars.

She looked for her favorite constellations, and she smiled as she remembered the library in the Red Keep. It was beautiful and large and full of enough books to last a lifetime. She was quick to get into her pyjamas, and even quicker to open her door, looking up at her guard.

“Excuse me,” She said softly, stepping out. “Are you going somewhere, Princess?” He asked, a look of confusion on his face. He had a long beard, and she was sure he had seen him before.

“Yes,” She answered, making her way down the corridor without saying anything else. She made her way as quiet as she could to the library, passing a rat or two that made her heart jump. That was something that she had hated about the Red Keep. There was nothing on the windows, so animals would come and go as they pleased. She much preferred mice over rats. Something about their tails tickled her brain in the worst of ways. When she finally did reach the library, her eyes searched for him, and she felt disappointment rising in her like steam when she could not find him. Perhaps she had gotten the wrong message. Maybe she made up the language of the eyes. But she would not waste her trip, beginning to pick out a book or two on constellations and The Moon and The Tides.

“You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” His voice made her jump, and she gripped her skirt as her eyes searched for him. “So close, my little doe. Look down,” He spoke, and when she did, she found him hiding under one of the tables in a pile of blankets. She smiled, crouching.

“Are you hiding?” She asked softly. She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but she could feel warmth radiating from him.

“I am not hiding. I simply wanted to see how long it would take to find me,” He responded, reaching for her hand and pulling her down. This was much easier when they were kids, but now he was longer than the table, and the needed more pillows.

“So you have just been watching me walk around aimlessly?” She teased, making him nod.

“Oh, of course,” He spoke softly, his hands finding her cheeks, squishing them gently. “I want to speak with my sister,” He mumbled softly, pulling her closer until her belly was against his chest. “I will not marry you until I get her permission,” He said softly. She nodded softly, leaning her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart racing, and she smiled at the feel of the vibrations.

“I did not take you for the type to want Mommy’s blessing,” She mumbles, making him scoff.

“I know better than to take away her little girl. She owes me this much, for all that has been done to me,” He spoke, and her hand slowly made its way up to his eyepatch.

“I am sorry that I said nothing that night,” She mumbled, and he softened against her touch.

“You were only a child,” He said quietly.

“As were you. None of us deserved all that has happened to us. If it is any help, I stole Luke’s desserts for a week,” She mumbled gently.

“Ah, yes. That is the most appropriate punishment,” He teased, making her roll her eyes.

“I did what I could.” She speaks, her lips brushing against his forehead, placing a small kiss there. A bit of his hair got into her mouth, and he squirmed, making him chuckle.

“Are you trying to make a nest of my hair?” He asked, recalling their earlier conversation.

“Oh hush.” She mumbled, curling up into him. Neither of them meant to fall asleep, but it was just so warm and comforting, and slowly, they fell into a slumber, feet sticking out of their fort. When they woke, it was to yells so loud they thought someone was killed. Both sat up far too quick, smacking the tops of their heads against the wooden tables. In shame, they crawled out quickly, her eyes big as she stared up at both of their mothers.

“What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenyra asked. She sounded so angry, but her eyes were not on her daughter, they were on Aemond, her lips pressed into a fineline.

“We were having a sleepover,” He said simply. “You know what that is like, don’t you sister? Didn’t you used to have sleepovers with your friends quite frequently?” He asked. He couldn’t speak without being antagonistic.

“Aemond!” She and Alicent exclaimed at the same time.

“Mother, please. I promise it was nothing. We were only speaking,” She said softly, eyes on the floor as she was pulled closer, her face and neck inspected for marks. “We just wanted to do as we used to as children, that is all,” She said softly. Rhaenyra slowly calmed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“He did nothing to you?” She asked.

“Of course not. Aemond would never hurt me,” She spoke, feeling Aemond’s hand moving to her shoulder.

“That much is true,” He spoke. “Sister, it has been a long time since we have spoken face to face,” He said, his eyepatch on the floor, having fallen off in his sleep. He wanted her to look at him in full, to see all that he had become.

“That it has,” Rhaenyra spoke, her face void of emotion.

“You know that I love your daughter. That has never been a secret. Do not deny her happiness because of one misunderstanding.” He said, making Rhaenyra’s face slowly fall. Her eyes looked to Alicent, as if she had any part in this. She simply shrugged, mouth parted.

“What are you saying, Aemond?” She asked her youngest son.

“I am saying that I wish to unite our families. I will marry (Y/N).” He spoke, leaving no room for discussion. Rhaenyra stared blankly at the pair. She had wished to stop the resentment between the families, and this would be the perfect way. But she could not bear the thought of her daughter staying here, alone with him, with them. She knew that (Y/N) would marry one day, but she just didn’t realize how soon that would be. But as she saw her daughters smile, and the hope in her eyes, she just could not say no. “Very well.” She spoke after a moment, letting out a deep breath.

“I will allow it. But you will wait the moons until her name day. We will ensure that this is what she truly wants,” She spoke, nodding to herself. Alicent was more hesitant, running through the possibilities in her mind. This was not what she wanted, not one bit. She wanted as much distance between the two families as possible. And what would the people say when they learned that the Prince was marrying a bastard? Her blood was good as dirt, and she came from a family of liars and narcissists. But no matter what she said, she knew her son would do as he pleased, so finally, she nodded, looking down at the floor.

128 AC The wedding day came quicker than either of them had expected. For at least three hours a day it was just planning, planning, planning. Trying on rings and taking them off, getting as close as they could without their chaperones making a fuss, whispered compliments and holding hands under the table. And of course, having to remind Alicent that this was not her wedding. “Oh, but wouldn’t a green dress be so lovely?” She asked, holding the fabric to (Y/N)’s skin. Rhaenyra could sense her discomfort, giving a light shake of her head.

“No. She has already decided to wear a gown similar to mine,” She spoke, and as Alicent went to open her mouth, she quickly spoke again.

“Don’t you remember that from when you were young? How old were you, nine or so? I found you in my chambers trying to get the dress on. It was much too long for you then,” Rhaenyra smiled fondly as she sipped her tea.

“It will not fit her,” Alicent pointed out, to which Rhaenyra smiled.

“It is a good to live in the time of seamstresses, is it not? I have already had it expanded and altered to suit her. You should worry about your son. Black leather at a wedding would be quite improper,” She spoke. Aemond sighed, slowly making eye contact with his betrothed. The pair were rather calm, but their mothers… were certainly something.

“I have already had his clothing commissioned. He will wear a fine beaded doublet of dragons and seahorses, in nod to her…. Velaryon heritage,” Alicent spoke, her voice soft and sarcastic, making Rhaenyra’s eyes roll. (Y/N) could not take it anymore.

“In all respect, this is my wedding. It is our wedding. We do not need this petty argument ruining our day. We both have fine clothes to wear, we have stunning rings, invitations are sent, and that is the end of it.” She spoke, looking between the two older women, watching them go silent. And so the pair would sit and wait for the day to come, resting together in the gardens, watching the sun fall and rise as they ate their meals on a blanket. They were romantic and disgusting, living in their own little world, just them and their chaperone.

“I cannot wait until we are finally wed and can be alone,” He sighed, rubbing her hand, kissing the top of her engagement ring. It was golden and covered in stones. It was far from traditional, and it was exactly the type of thing that she enjoyed.

“Nor can I,” She said softly, smiling as she saw a bunny running across the grass.

“Only a few days left,” he said softly. “You are certain you want to go through with this? There is still time to call it all off,” He mumbled, making her scoff.

“Of course I am certain. I will just have to prepare myself for more of your mothers comments,” She responded teasingly.

“Oh, Gods. Are do not want to think about that. I only wish to think of what it will be like to finally kiss you, to share our names and bodies… to finally sleep in the same bed and wake up to the sight of you every morning,” he murmured, making her cheeks burn.

“Stop it,” She mumbles, too embarrassed to listen to any more of it, placing her hands on her ears, making him chuckle as he pulled them off.

“I am thrilled to see your pretty face all sleepy and puffy, and to share our evening meals, to have painting after painting made of you to hang on my walls until I cannot escape those pretty eyes,” He smiled. She squirmed under him, flattered and grossed out, covering her crimson cheeks. “Hm.. the bugs are coming out,” He sighed as the sky got dark and frogs bred in the distance. She sighed, and they carefully packed up their things and made their way back to the Keep. Alicent was watching them from her balcony, and the two walked a safe distance apart. Only a few more days they would have to hold themselves together. And finally, on the 18th day of the 11th moon, all of the Lords and Ladies of importance were packed inside the Red Keep. Beautiful gowns twirling under candle light, the best of music echoing from the harps. Aemond tried to breath as he walked in, his eyes finally finding her.

And gods, he would marry her a million times over. Her curls were full of pearls and small pins, half of her hair up and the other half down. His palms were sweating, pressing against his doublet. He was painfully aware of everyone looking at him, but he couldn’t look away from her.

“(Y/N).” He murmured softly as she finally stood in front of him. He was struck dumb by her beauty, blinking slowly.

“Aemond,” She said softly, their voices quiet and kept to the loudness of a breath. Both of their faces red as the Sept read off some text, but neither of them were paying attention. Hurry up, Aemond thought to himself, getting increasingly more anxious as the minutes passed. And finally, as silence covered them, he reached forward, held her cheeks, and pressed a big kiss to her mouth. It was sweet and awkward, and their teeth bumped for a brief moment. All of the love they had collected for each other in the last months came oozing out, her hands holding his until they finally parted, looking at each other, their breath lost.

“And you have… kissed your bride.” The Septon spoke, a bit awkwardly, as if this had never happened before. And it had not. The crowd was quiet, looking around for the reaction they were supposed to have, until they finally erupted in applause.

“I love you, My Strong Girl,” He whispered into her ear. She smiled up at him, arms around his shoulders as flower petals flew like rain.

“Aww, thank you,” She said, making his eye squint. She laughed, her thumbs pressing her cheeks.

“And I love you too, my One Eyed Prince,” She mumbled, feeling his arms around her waist, holding her close as if he wished to absorb her. And so the One Eyed Prince and The Strong Girl lived the happiest they could, despite the violence around them and the whispers in their ears, their love never died. Burning furious and strong like Vhagar’s flame, and with every five years that passed, they would have wedding after wedding after wedding, until they were wed beneath all the gods and above all the land. Until their love could not be denied, and until they died, where their ashes were mixed and mingled with the shore, covered in shells and seahorses.

I think this might be the longest fic i've posted so far! I hope you enjoyed it!!

Thank you to everyone who reads.

♡- BK

1K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 8 months ago

Text

Duty and desire (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]

[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.

She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.

The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.

"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.

He remained silent.

A bad sign.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.

He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.

"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"

"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.

"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.

She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.

"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.

"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.

He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.

She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.

"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.

"– it's something else –" He whispered.

"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.

"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.

"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.

He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.

For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.

"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.

She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.

"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.

"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.

"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.

"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.

She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.

"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"

She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.

He moaned.

Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.

Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.

"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.

She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.

"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.

"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.

"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.

"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.

"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.

She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.

"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.

He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.

"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"

"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.

"– but – it was –"

"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.

"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.

That he would beg in his mind for more.

More of her tenderness.

More of her praise.

More of her love.

"– as you wish –"

2K notes · View notes

lionneee · 4 months ago

Text

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Part 1 -> Part 2

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door.

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond.

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him.

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

"You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time.

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good.

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good.

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.”

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you.

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable.

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure.

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck.

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside.

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.”

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments.

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

Part 2

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy

523 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 6 months ago

Text

Two Halves of a whole

Aemond had always understood you in ways others could not, your bond so deep nothing could severe it. A bond so deep that they would do anything to save the other, even if it meant being trapped with the enemy.

based of this request

word count: 6,208

cw: MDI+, 18+, Smut, Angst, fluff, love conffessions, arranged marraige, cheating. (im so sorry Cregan i love you i swear), not proofread!

Aemond Targaryen x twinsister!reader (or Creaganswife!reader)

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: so sorry i haven’t updated in two weeks! ive been in such a writting slump but here is finally some work! <3

Aemond had always understood you in ways now one else had.

Born together, you had never seen the day apart. Your lessons spent together, your rooms shared until you where three and ten.

And even then that did not stop you form spending every moment together.

You were so similar, not only where you twins but it was almost as If you where the same person, two halves of a whole.

You were kind, where he was cruel.

Your were beautiful where he seemed himself ugly, no matter the words you spoke to call him otherwise.

Where he was bold, you where shy.

And where you thrived, he drowned.

But something shifted the day Aemond claimed Vaghar.

You had both been dragon less, teased for it and faced the constant bullying of your older brother and nephews.

you had spent days talking and studying dragons, and where Aemond started to loose hope, and yet you pushed him to believe he could claim a dragon.

And he did, the biggest and most fearsome dragon in the world.

And you were left behind in the process.

That night, no one told you of what had transpired until you were dragged from your bed and greeted with the bleeding face of your twin brother.

Your house divided, and your brother a changed man.

Form that day he became cruel and cunning, hellbent on being the best swordsman. the best dragon rider. Skilled and wise.

And though you where there for it all, helping him and watching. It was all from the sidelines. As if you only mattered when he was involved.

that’s what your family thought anyway.

Until you became of marital age, and your father decided a alliance with the north was necessary.

You had always thought you would marry Aemond, and yet here you where on your way to winterfell about to marry a stranger you had never met.

Your nephew Jace had talked of him often, recounting his days spent in Winterfell. And though he sounded honourable and kind, you feared what it would be like to be apart fork Aemond, the man who was truly the other half of you.

even after years of drifting apart he was still everything to you.

“are you excited, aunt?” Jace asked, he and the rest of your family where all accompany your north, using the journey as a tour of Westeros.

“As one can be to be marrying a stranger I suppose” you mused, looking out of the window.

Whilst your siblings all rode their dragons around Westeros, you were forced to ride with your nephews and cousins, with dragons too small to withstand the long journeys.

“Cregan stark is a good man, I’m sure you with have a good marriage” Baela spoke, looking up from her book.

You scoffed, “so everyone has met him but me?” you mumbled to yourself, shifting uncomfortably.

“I always thought you would marry Aemond” Rhanea spoke up, she and you had strike a surprising friendship, despite her distaste for Aemond. Your common lack and want for a dragon bonding you both.

“As did I” you spoke longingly, looking up and seeing the shape of Vaghar in the distance.

The rest of the journey was spent with minimal words spoken, and your eyes never leaving Vaghars form.

Ever since they announced your betrothal Aemond had been distant, still ever present as he was, but distant.

The day he had found out he had stormed out of his rooms and ignored you for the remainder of the day.

And though the day after he had carried out your old routine, it seemed different, strained.

Though Aemond was never a talker, he was never silent around you. If he didn’t respond with words, he responded with actions. Whether it be brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, caressing your hand, or bringing you flowers.

But since then, the casual touches or small gifts of flowers or your favourite snack or bringing you a book he thought you’d enjoy, stopped.

Conversation was strained, always ending on an awkward note, and when you had wished to confront him on it you had found he had gone to the silk of streets with Aegon.

You felt hurt, betrayed almost and yet it was you who was marrying another, leaving him behind, even if you had no choice in the fact.

And the tour had been even worse.

Your days spent in a carriage alongside people you hardly knew, with Jace and Luke the very boys who had once teased your mercilessly. The very people who had caused Aemond so much pain and even harsher words in the past years.

And yet you were forced to put on a pretty smile and put up with their chatter. Though had no quells with Rhaena, finding many conversation flows easy with her.

You felt all alone, stranded in a marriage yet to happen and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The journey around Westeros was as long as it weas boring, full of lords trying their hardest to appease you father, spoiling you all with gifts and pretty words.

You were grateful once you started to visit the northern houses, they were honest, less kind, less welcoming and less inclined to spoil you with meaningless gifts.

It took six months, six months of travelling of Aemond being distant and eventually ignoring you altogether before you reached Winterfell. And met Cregan stark.

And though you could tell he was a good man and that there was no way to deny he wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t Aemond.

You got along well, though every smile or laugh was met with Aemond’s glare. His disapproving stare. His harsh words and even harsher steps as he followed you both through the halls.

He hadn’t said a word to you, but made sure you new his anger.

Even as he watched you walk down the aisle in the godswood and take Cregan as your lord husband.

After that day you felt perpetually lost, as if you had lost the other part of you, that you were never whole.

Perhaps it was because Aemond had left without so much as a goodbye, or that now there was no chance of you and Aemond getting what you both wanted.

Two years passed, two years in the north as Cregan’s wife, a babe born and not a single word or letter from Aemond.

You felt stranded in the north, with no dragon nor any dragon rider offering you an escape. Any letters took weeks to arrive, any news arriving long after the fact.

You heard little from anyone frankly, that’s why it was such a surprise to see your nephew Jace once more.

“Jace?” you questioned, as you walked into the great hall. He sat beside Cregan, clearly having spent the night.

You were shocked, no one had told you of his arrival.

“Aunt” he greeted in turn, his voice kind as he greeted you.

“What are you doing here?” you said, as you approached where they sat.

He looked over to Cregan, shocked you didn’t know he was here. “Your father…Viserys is dead”

“oh” you said, not feeling any emotion in particular. He had never been a father too you, always distant, treating you more like a cousin child, than his own. “did he- was it peaceful?”

“I don’t know” he said, as you finally took your seat beside him, “we had left Kings Landing before-“

“Is that why your here? My fathers death?”

Jace looked over to Cregan an awkwardly, “Aegon usurped my mother, I have been sent to remind the north of their oath.”

Aegon being king wasn’t a surprise, your mother and grandsire had been plotting for years to crown him since he was born. If anything, you were shocked that Jace seemed surprised by the betrayal, as if the court hadn’t been treating Aegon as heir for years.

“And as I told the prince, the north remembers” Cregan said looking over to you, his tone serious. “we pledge our loyalty to the queen”

“and if war comes with you plunge your sword into my brothers back, husband?”

“if it comes it it, aye”

You looked down and remained quite through the remainder of Jace’s stay, keeping to yourself, as you always did.

The harsh realisation that your husband would so easily kill your brothers hurt, even if they were traitors and usurpers.

You had never felt whole since Aemond left and you knew a part of you chipped away the longer he was gone, the longer he punished you with his silence.

And then news came, Luke was dead at the hands of Aemond. And you felt apart of you break.

The realisation that Aemond would not survive this war without erasing the entirety of Rhaenrya’s line.

You felt more stuck than ever.

Stuck with a husband plotting a war were the allegiance was split.

You had married Cregan in hope of uniting the north to the greens. But of course the loyal house stark would never wavier form their oath, even if it meant a wife forced to watch as her kin was murdered.

You hated this war, and it had yet to start.

You had been left in charge of Winterfell in your husbands absence, and you felt even more lonely without him. The one person who you had felt some stability from.

Your dreams was filled with blood and death, fear of what was to come. And yet another dream chased you. Flashes of blue flames, ice eyes and cold scales. A song sung through your mind, it had no words or melody, it was as if it were a secret language only your dreams could understand.

A storm raged on, leaving you locked inside and a feeling a dread filling your bones.

You couldn’t escape the nagging feeling, the feeling like something was very wrong.

You could scarcely see outside the window, let alone leave the keep. The snow thick and relentless, and yet you could make out a figure ever so slightly.

A dragon.

Large and far away, your mind hoped it was Aemond, though he would be a fool to travel north, especially in this storm.

And yet it seemed to pale, not nearly as monstrous or large.

It called to you, your eyes following if, unable to tear themselves away from the dragon.

Had it not been the call of your name from your maid, Lyra, you were sure you would have chased after it, its song luring you to were ever its layer sat.

“my lady” she started, her demeanour nervous

“what is it?” you questioned, finally pulling your eyes away from the creature.

“you have a visitor”

“who-“ your words were cut off as your twin strolled in, his yes firm, a hand gripping his sword “Aemond” you breathed, your hand gripping at your chest.

“sister” he greeted.

You sent a look to lyra, sending her running, though she seemed relived at the dismal.

“my husband is not here”

“good”

“he pledged for Rhaenrya”

His gaze hardened, a smile gracing his lips “you betray your own kin”

You scoffed “me betray? You are the one who has not spoken a word to me since the day i was married, no letter no word! Even Aegon wrote me and yet you my own twin, the very man i have loved and been with since the day we were born, betrays me without a word all because I am shipped of in a marriage you very well knew I did not want! If anyone has betrayed the other it is you”

His gaze fell, his smirk falling, “you choose him-“

“by the gods! I had no say”

His eyes dropped their firm, “no…mother said you had chosen him and rejected my bid” “your bid? You bid for my hand?” you scoffed once more, “do you think that if I knew I had a choice I would have come crying, begging for your help?”

He seemed you look at you, look at you for the first time in years, his yes boring into you in a way you did not realise you missed.

Aemond had always been selifish and cruel, a man who only believed his opinion to be the truth and yet with you he was patient and kind, and though you saw a glimpse of the man others did see, you knew he was still the Aemond you had long knew.

Though the fact remained, as it stood you were on opposing sides of this war, and with no dragon and your son the heir to house stark, you were powerless to change sides.

But as he looked at you, and as you heard to coo of your son as he sat in his crib your mind went back to the day your life changed and Aemond drifted apart.

You knew the day was coming, word had been circling around court, suitors from throughout the realm had come to bid for your hand.

Though you in truth you only wanted one man, your twin Aemond.

It wasn’t wrong for you to assume that you and he would marry, it was within the custom of your house, you had always been close and he had practically been courting you for years.

With gifts an-d days spent walking the gardens, with soft words and caresses.

Though he never made his intentions clear, you were sure he was of the same mind of you.

And yet days spent whining about the men hellbent on following you, with cheesy words of love and gifts you already had too may off. It was all impersonable and endlessly repetitive. And Aemond never uttered a word. Simply nodding his head in what you hoped was silent contempt.

and yet your mother had summoned you to her chambers, a sombre expression on her face.

“daughter” she greeted, a soft smile as she reached for your hand.

The feeling of dread encompassed you, your face pale and stricken as she ushered you to sit.

“an offer has been made, one your father could not refuse” she started, her hand caressing yours, “one with house stark…lord Cregan Stark has made a bid and your father has accepted.”

You swallowed, your head dropping.

“I know your heart bid for another…but this is the way of the realm, and lord Cregan is a good man, your- Rhaenrya’s son knows him well.” She spoke the last part hesitantly.

“when?”

“we leave in a moons turn”

You nodded your head, standing quickly you nodded your head as your turn to leave, the tears already threatening to fall from your eyes.

You had ran to Aemond’s rooms, his chambers adjacent to yours.

Your eyes were filled with tears, your face red and your breaths short.

He breathed your name, coming up to hold your face in his hands.

“I am to be married” you breathed through shallow breaths.

Aemond held his breath.

“mother…mother has said I shall marry…Lord Cregan Stark” you stuttered out, and Aemond back away from you, his hand dropping as if your face was fire.

“what?” he muttered harshly, “out of all your…suitors, him?”

“I had little say…I alw-“ you cut yourself of as you saw the look on Aemond’s face.

With you Aemond had always had patience, been kind where he was usually curel, his face never harsh or firm but now…now he seemed to hold the anger of the sun as he looked at you, as if he had been betrayed, as if he was the one being made to marry a man thousands of leagues away, a man you had never met.

“please Aemond” you begged, trying to move towards him once more.

You were unsure of what you were begging for.

Whether it was to help you get out of this betrothal or to marry him instead, but Aemond scoffed and sent you a glare that would send anyone else running.

“what do you want? Hmm?” he began, stalking over to you, “to help you out of it? Or what claim a dragon so that you might escape?” he said, his tone mocking.

“what is with you!” you spoke through tears, “why are you being so cruel?”

“cruel?” he scoffed once more, “you are the one being cruel!”

“how?! I had no choice!”

“you had every choice” he seethed, “and yet you continuously turn a blind eye to the right choice!”

“what choice? you think I had any choice in this?” you scoffed, “gods! Heleana had no say, even Rhaenyra had little say in her first husband and yet you think I got to choose?” tears were falling from your eyes but for an entirely different reason, you felt betrayed, the one person you knew or had thought you could trust with all your heart had betrayed you. Had made you lose all trust, and made you feel alone.

A feeling that had followed you for moons, even the following years that were to come. As he grew more and more distant, no more gifts or walks, days spent in each other’s company and now they were spent listening to your nephew trying to sell your future husband. Your mother and planning your wedding.

You felt like you had lost Aemond In his entirety and yet here he stood before you, claiming you a traitor.

“why are you here?” you breathed, trying to forget the words he had said.

“for you” he spoke, straightening his stance as you walked towards your sons crib.

“for me? What of Rickon? Hmm?” you said, bouncing your six month of son in your arms. “he is the heir to Winterfell and his father fights for your enemies, you expect me to leave with you? To abandon my home?”

“your home?” he huffed, “last we spoke, you hated it here.”

“last we spoke was two years ago, opinions change especially in years apart”

“so what? You will stay in here in the cold, damp, baren land that is the north?”

“in favour of what?” you questioned genuinely, leaving the north would gain you nothing, instead you would lose the comforts of a husband and your son his birthright.

“you know…I always assumed we would wed” Aemond began, a small gasp left your throat, “and so you will wed me, your son will be Aegon’s heir until you and I have a son of our own”

“what…I am already married-“

“to a man I shall kill myself”

“Aemond! Gods you are mad! You speak of a life this war will never offer us!” you shook your head, “I- I cannot leave here, not for a life you cannot guarantee, especially after years of neglect over something I could not control”

“so you are a traitor”

“I pledge to no one, I care not for the throne especially if the fight is between Aegon and Rhaenyra” you spoke “I have no means to fight in this war for either side, and I do not desire to…if that is what you want…for me to leave my home for no reason other than an empty promise for a life we will never live then I must tell you to leave”

“leave?” he said bewildered, unbelieving you would send him away so quickly.

“you can stay the night or until the storm clears up, but I will here no more of this war or of your fantasy you have suddenly conjured up” A fantasy you had long desired yourself, had craved for him to desire it to. And now you were offered it, it seemed unreachable now. A war in its way, a war started by him and only one ending could grant you this fantasy, an ending to messy and deadly.

“I will go now” he spoke harshly, sending you a single glance before he took his leave.

That night the storm raged harsher, and sleep evaded you.

The storm did not stop raging once and for the first time since Driftmark you feared for your brothers life.

You stared out your window once more, trying to find the familiar shape of Vaghar, and yet you saw nothing.

Your eyes closed as you hoped, prayed that he had manged to get out of the storm.

But instead of a prayer you heard the song, the singing of that dragon once more.

Opening your eyes, you instantly found its shape, its wings flying through the sky as if the storm was nothing, its song enticing you to follow it, to find were it sat.

Grabbing your cloak and your boats you were quick to sneak from the castle, with no one questioning the steps of their lady, even less when you made a hopeful glance to where you were told Vaghar had landed. Hoping Aemond had chosen to wait out the storm.

But the typical stubborn man had left, mostly likely gotten himself stranded on some cliff.

As you left the walls of Winterfell, your sight blinded by snow, you were guided by the dragons song, a song that grew louder and louder as you went deeper into the wolfs woods.

You had been hunting here on a few occasions, never alone and always at Cregan’s side.

The trees dwarfed the sky the further you went, and yet there was a clearing amongst the trees, leaving a trail of discarded leaves and twigs, snow parted by what could only be a tail.

The trail lead to a cave, encased with snow and yet here the song stopped and the familiar smell of dragon began.

You had not know of caves in these woods, then again you had long strayed from the trail others took, and perhaps the word of a dragon had made this corner of the woods scarce.

With hesitance you entered the cave, with no sword nor light, simply will.

The cave was empty, bar what seemed to be a cliff, leading below.

Had there not been the unrelenting scent of dragon you would have turned back and yet, you climbed down, down rugged rocks only to turn and be meet with an ice cold bolt shotting from the dragons mouth.

A roar filled the room, alongside ice cold blue flame.

The dragon you had only seen from a distance lay facing you, its stare made to intimidate.

You left out a breath at the sight of her.

She was so different yet similar to the dragons you had grown up seeing.

She tilted her head, assessing you, before she nudged you.

Whether it was playfully or an attempt to get you to leave you did not now.

And yet you continued to step forward.

“lykirī” You spoke softly, walking towards the dragon hand raised, “lykirī” your hand reached forward, touching the dragon’s snout softly. She was warm and yet freezing under your palm, so different from the hot scales you were used to under the touch of your siblings dragons.

“nyke ryptan aōha vāedar” you started, softly stroking her, “īles gevie…iksā gevie”

I heard your song… it was beautiful… you are beautiful.

A soft grumbled left the dragons lips.

“iksin ziry syt nyke? aōha vāedar?” you swore she nodded her head.

Was it for me? Your song?

“gōntan ao brōzagon syt nyke?” you whispered, moving down her snout and towards her back, the place a saddle usual sat.

did you call for me?

“eman dreamt hen ao, ryptan aōha vāedar syt jēdri. se yet mirre bisa jēda īlē paktot gō ñuha pungos”

i have dreamt of you, heard your song for years...and yet all this time you were right under my nose.

The dragon shook her head softly, turning to face you as if to urge you up upon her back.

You swallowed roughly as you climbed upon her wing and then her back. she was larger than your brothers dragon Sunfyer, you would even wager larger than dreamfyer, and yet she was younger, her eyes softer and scales thinner. Her fire, or ice, however was strong, perhaps even stronger than Caraxes.

You settled upon her back, holding onto her scales, and before you could utter a word, she took flight.

“daor” you muttered, “dohaerās” you spoke, your hands gripping tightly as you urged her to serve. “Paez”

No…serve…slow

The storm still raged, you were blinded as the snow pelted your eyes, and yet your dragon seemed unfazed.

She circled the woods in what seemed to be glee.

Showing of tricks that left you praying to the gods as you gripped onto her horns for dear life.

And then you heard a roar.

An old and ancient roar.

“jikagon ūndegon” you urged.

Go see

She flew through the sky at a rapid place before the sight of Vaghar became clear, she lay stranded on the lonely hills, covered in snow and Aemond lay beside her.

“elēnās” you commanded, urging our dragon to bank.

Jumping of her back you rushed towards Aemond, his body cold and shivering.

“Aemond…gods” you whispered, “I told you to stay the night!” you near screamed, trying to urge him awake, and yet he seemed unresponsive to your words.

“Vaghar jikagon, jurnegon syt shelter” you screamed, as you made moves to drag Aemond towards your dragon.

Vaghar go, search for shelter

The old dragon seemed to rumble at your words her gaze following you as you near threw Aemond body on top of the dragon, a dragon you decided very well needed a name.

You were scared to take flight once more, with nothing but your arms to hold onto the dragon and Aemond.

“gods” you muttered, your eyes blinded once more by snow. “sagon qucik se gīda” you commanded, pulling Aemond to your chest and below the winter coat you wore, your hands gripping your dragon, as you commanded her onwards.

Be quick and calm

The flight to Winterfell seemed short, though worry racked through you as Aemond’s breaths grew shorter.

You landed rather ungracefully in the godswood, a landing that seemed to awake the whole castle as you were greeted with the entirety of your staff, your maid, Lyra rushing towards you a blanket in hand.

“my lady” she muttered rushing towards you, only to gasp at the sight of Aemond as you struggle to carry him.

“Gunther, Torren” you shouted for your guards, to help you carry Aemond, “send for the maester my brother is in need of aid.

“my lady is that your dragon?” Lyra asked, nervously as your dragon seemed to send menacing glares to your staff.

“yes” you nodded, catching your breath from your seemingly heavy brother.

“what is its name?” she asked stepping behind your form nervously.

“Stormfyer” you decided, and she herself seemed to like it as she eagerly nudged you, pushing you back ever so slightly.

That night the maester cared for Aemond, his body slowly recovering.

Though whispered moved swiftly of your brothers presence, and his lack of dragon.

A week passed before Aemond woke.

His voice scratchy and body weak, his head confused. Even more so when he saw your face.

You stood with broth and bread in your hand, a soft nervous smile on your face as you faced him.

His eyes were angry, but his face seemed to relax ever so slightly at your face.

“am I a prisoner?” he asked, as you placed the tray on his lap.

“if you talk a single word of war then yes” you joked, though the words soured soon after they were spoken.

“how did you find me?”

You smiled at his words, “there is a dragon in the north, she sang to me and I answered her call and in doing so I found you, your body beside Vaghars…. I rescued you, near a week ago”

“a dragon?” he spoke “you have dragon now?”

You nodded, “Stormfyer, I named her…she is near the size of dreamfyer I believe, though closer in age to Vermax” you spoke with a smile.

“I am…happy for you sister”

“I won’t reconsider… before you say anything”

“I know…I realised as such as I lay here dreaming”

“dreaming…of what?”

“of you” he spoke instantly, his hand gripping yours, “I meant what is said, all I have ever wanted was you by my side, as my wife and my queen” “I do not wish to be queen”

“then we shall be farmer and wife…in Essos or I shall shave my head and take the name snow and be your faithful sworn sword here in the north”

“Cregan will kill you second he sees you”

“then we leave”

“what if my son?” you argued, “he is the heir to Winterfell, it is his birthright”

“as is Aegon’s as king” Aemond snapped.

“and yet a war rages for Rhaenyra as queen, a queen the north supports and you lie as the enemy within.”

“then will you kill me sister?”

“never” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly, “you are the other half of me, I found you dying on the hills for a reason, I have felt your pain and joy for years…I will not betray you” “you staying here does…it hurts me, makes me ache for you”

You took a deep breath, moving the tray of Aemond’s lap, and yourself towards him.

You took his face in your heads, your forehead lent against his.

“I ache for you…everyday of my life I have ached for you” you breathed “I waited, I waited for you to feel he same for you to tell me you wished to have me as your wife and yet that day never came until a week past…after I am married and made a mother” your eyes swelled with tears, “if the gods wished us together they would have made it easier for us Aemond…they never would have put us on opposing side of a war…or me with a husband i-“ you were cut off with Aemond’s lips on yours.

His mouth merged with yours, moving in tandem with the others, years of love and desire melting into one as his mouth kissed yours, his hands gripping your sides as he pulled you onto his lap.

Your hands reaching for his hair, tugging him closer to you.

Soft moans left your moth as his tongue danced with yours.

Your dress loosened by his wandering hands.

Your hips moving slowly against this, his length hardening against your thigh as you cunt became sickened with your wet heat.

“Aemond” you moaned breaking away from him. “I am married”

“and I do not care” he smoke, removing his shirt and they your dress. Leaving you both bare.

Your eyes were roaming and quick.

As if nervous to see another man naked, and yet Aemond had long been the only man you ever desired.

You should be filled with guilt, with the thought of your husband and yet, no guilt chased you as you removed the covers and revealed Aemond’s cock.

You swallowed at he sight of him.

You moved forward placing a quick kiss to his lips, hovering over his cock, before lunging down.

The feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock made you both moan, your breaths heavy as you adjusted to the size of him.

Your head reasted on his shoulder, his hands gripping your waists as you began to lift your self of his cock, only to push them down once more.

You set a slow pace as you rode him, moving your hips in slow circular motions.

Aemond placed soft kisses to your neck, urging you to look at him.

He moaned your name, his hands caressing your sides, before settling once more on your hips.

Gripping your waist, he began to move you up and down on his cock, his pace fast and full of pleasure.

Your peak came fast, your moans covered by your hands as you rode his cock.

Your walls clenching around his cock, causing Aemond’s own peak to wash over him, his seed filling you as you lay breathless above him.

“Aemond” you breathed, kissing his chest lightly as he held you to him.

“I have wanted to do that forever” he whispered, kissing your head.

You wanted to say so may things and yet you couldn’t.

You felt joy at having Aemond finally, at your emotions being laid bare before him.

And yet a sadness watched over you as if this was a goodbye.

And seeing as shouts were heard, the sound of hooves and a rapid knock upon the door, you realised it was.

He gripped your hand, “stay” he urged.

“it is my husband” you whispered, gathering your clothes in a rush., “he can never know…you must leave!”

“leave? How when our husband and his men circle the courtyard”

“i- i- don’t..” you mumbled in a panic as your redressed, “this never happened Aemond, you must bend plea for something…I don’t know say you pledge for Rhaenyra”

“he will never believe it…and why would I come here if I did”

The knocking sounded once more…look asleep and sickly… I will come back” your promised rushing out the doors and to greet your husband.

“Husband” you greeted, a breathless smile on your face, “you are back?”

“only for a time, I’m afraid” he said, sad smile on his face as he gave you a kiss in greeting.

He turned serious as he faced you, his voice a whisper as he spoke, “your brother…Aemond” he began, “he is here?”

You swallowed, “yes…but please I beg don’t kill him” you said tears filling your eyes, “he can be our prisoner…I sent his dragon away he has no means of leaving” you begged.

He looked at you hesitantly, before urging you to talk inside.

“he is a kin slayer” he spoke outright, “he should be killed…executed”

“I know…but he is a valuable prisoner.” He looked at you the, with the same look he gave you the first few months of your marriage. When you felt alone and needed Aemond like you need air to breath.

“do you still love him?” he spoke after a moment, “and do not deny that you ever did…I know of the whispers and I know you saved his life days ago”

“you are my husband…the father of my son…I have cared for you and even started to love you-“

“but do you love him?”

You stared at him your eyes begging for what, you did not know “what does it matter” you sighed in mock defeat.

Cregan kissed his teeth, “queen Rhaenyra has taken Kingslanding, Aegon is missing, and Aemond now a hostage of the north and you...” he stopped himself unsure of what to make of you, “you are my wife and the lady of the north, a kingdom pledged to the queen”

“so what? Am I too a prisoner until you can test my loyalty?”

“do I need to test your loyalty?”

You had no reply as you stormed out of his solar, and to your own rooms.

You realised you had no choice in what was to come, Aemond would die and no prayers would save him from what his fate was set to be.

Sighing you faced the room you had made a home, now it seemed empty.

The crib lay empty, your son in the nursery.

Your bed made and fire well kept.

Your thing scattered, with clothes left tidy in their dresser, blanket slung over chairs, books left stacked.

You sighed, your head falling in your hands as you began to pace your room.

Then the realisation hit, the need to flea and run

Grabbing a bag you packed everything you could, clothes and books, hairbrushes and toys for your son.

A cloak slung over your shoulder, the bag well hidden as you made way to the nursery.

Smiling as you greeted him, his smiles lighting the room as you took him into your arms and made way to where Aemond was kept.

He lay in his bed, the food you had brought now eaten, a book lay in his hand.

“Aemond” you breathed, closing the door behind you. “we must leave” you said as you chucked some of the clothes Cregan kept in your chamber towards him.

Fleeing proved easier than you had thought. With feasts and revelry at your husbands return it was easy to sneak through the keep and towards the godswood.

Vhagar had made her way there only days ago, and though Aemond was still weak from the cold, he seemed to lighten up at the sight of her.

“where are we going?” he breathed as you tossed Aemond the bag you had packed.

“to lys” you began, “we cannot stay in Westeros and with the triarchy as your ally I am sure we would be safer there than here.”

After that day no one knows what happened to the Targaryen twins, many assumed Aemond had kidnapped you in act of revenge for your supposed loyalty to Rhaenrya and your betrayal against him. When in truth the escape had been your plan, and whilst you had lived in lys, myr and Tyrosh, moving from place to place for the first five years in fear of assassins, you later found a home where you thrive away from the war Aemond had began.

taglist

@justbelljust @violet-potter @amanda08319 @marsmallow433 @Youknownothingjohnwatson @feyresqueen @seamaiden @Aaliyah @spacexdrago @12thatsanumber @alexxavicry

@apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe e @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @valiendokk @delaynew @haydee5010 @clobobo @aegonswife @scorpiosmalfoy @sithapprentice @probablyreadingsmutlol @bitchystuffs @livelaughlovetigers @Pamela

to be added to taglist

542 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

Text

The Blood is Rare

Summary: Aemond has always loathed his niece, and the feeling is very much mutual | Words: 3.3k | Warnings below the cut!

Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, choking, slight knife play, biting, bitta blood, incest (character is described with strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping?

There was no plate at his spot at the table. No knife to tempt him. He would not break bread with those he could not trust.

Like an animal atop high ground, he sits rigid at the head of the table, on the outside unnervingly calm. But he watches with a keen eye the prey that sits at the other end.

She shares many features with her mother. His whore-sister. Her stubbornness, her determined gaze and the nervous twisting of the rings on each of her fingers into the bargain.

Had she not the dark brown, near-black shade of waved hair atop her head and bright, clear blue eyes of the former Commander of the City Watch, his niece and his sister would look nearly identical.

Unfortunately, they both shared his hatred for them as well.

He loathed the idea of them all. The birth of one mere brown-haired bastard was enough, and yet there were three of them, sat together in unification, as if to put up defences against the opposite side of the table, dotted with the moonlight-silver of Alicent Hightower’s children.

He smirked at the thought that she came mere hours after Jace. That she was unplanned. Unwanted. And yet here she existed, sitting with her eyes fixed on a flickering candle, trying to drown out the laughs, smiles and the oddity that was all of them all gathered together, enjoying one another’s company.

He knew as well as she did. It was the only thing they had in common. That they could see through this charade.

Aemond wondered if she had always seen it. Understood it. The strife that would happen between them. Perhaps she was a dreamer and could envisage the future before it had even happened.

She was a melancholic, hateful little thing. Born with fire and fury.

He supposed if anything, she was still the daughter of a Targaryen.

Aemond swore she was a witch of sorts. For she must have felt his gaze on her, and her clear eyes were illuminated by the dancing flame as they met him. Her expression unchanged.

His smirk grew that they felt the same about each other.

He was the cunt son of Alicent Hightower.

And she was the Strong bastard of his whore-sister.

Not breaking eye contact, she raised her chin, looking down at him over her nose, huffing as she turned away to sip from the cup on her small, delicate fingers.

Stuck up cunt.

The atmosphere shifted considerably as Viserys groaned, a frail hand raised to the injured portion of his face, to which Aemond felt a sick sense of delight. The guards swiftly carried him away by each corner of his chair.

And the gap between Rhaenyra and Alicent seemed to push each side away further. Irreparably so.

His niece did not appreciate his tribute to her and her brothers.

Throughout the evening, she had said few words apart from mumbled whispers to Daemon on her right and Luke on her left. But when Aemond stood to speak, he revelled in her undivided attention. In those angry eyes, he saw not only a loathing for him, but a loathing at the truth of what she was.

A loathing that he was right, and she knew it.

She seemed almost as disappointed as her mother when Jace struck him weakly.

And before Daemon could place himself between the warring factions of their family, he watched the Strong Princess march angrily away, her skirts in her hands, flashing a stern glare before she left.

Her eyes were all he could think about, with her face anchored in the firm grip of his fingers.

He thought she was so small and fragile, that he could just squeeze and break her little jaw, her bones clattering between his fingers like pebbles. And yet she still looked at him with such fire, that only one of Targaryen blood would be able to throw.

She looked at him like he was the most loathsome creature she had ever seen.

The passageway Aemond had her cornered into was stifling and suffocating, forcing them to breathe the same humid air in anger. He saw her face redden where he had her in his grasp, her glossy lips slightly parted to breathe.

“I will extend you the courtesy of assuming there is a very good reason why you have your hands on me like this, Uncle.”

He almost wants to laugh right in her face, despite what she said not meaning to be funny. She is so frail, and yet roars so loudly.

“There is.”

Her jaw muscles tighten in frustration, shuffling backwards though there is nowhere to go.

“Then, I dare say your reason will not be good enough.”

Aemond allows his gaze to roam over her face. Up close, she really and truly is the picture of her mother, with her father's unfortunate features to her disadvantage in her colouring.

“I merely wished to see the colour of your eyes, mandianna.”

“To make some cruel jape no less, I am sure.”

He grins at the way she takes a sharp breath when he tugs her face towards him slightly. And he swears he sees the pupils within the clear blue of her eyes widen as he does, and wonders if he is having the same effect swelling at the forbidden place between her thighs.

“You wound me, sweet niece. A man cannot simply appreciate the beauty of a woman? Does there always have to be some cruel intent?”

“With you, there must be.”

He somewhat loosens his grip on her face, fingers trailing down her neck, the glint of her earrings catching his eye. She visibly shivers at his touch there.

The most venomous expression sits on her face, and she does not miss a beat. Too clever and witty for her own good.

“Do not insult my intelligence, Uncle. I know what depraved thoughts bat around inside your head, and they are not original. A family trait perhaps.”

He hums, more amused than curious, but perhaps with a smattering of both, “And what of you?”

Her perfect little lips part to speak before his thumb trails down the column of her throat, long fingers wrapped around her neck to her nape. The threat of what he could do making her go quiet.

“What depraved thoughts bat around in your head, sweet niece?”

Silence wraps around them like a rope, tightening with the fibres cracking against their skin. Hot and suffocating all at once. And all Aemond can hear is the steady rhythm of her breathing, his eye wandering down to the necklace perched on her chest as her lungs erratically suck in air.

“It is treason to question my virtue.”

She swallows as his thumb presses on the centre of her throat, as if testing if she is indeed real.

“It may be treason to question your virtue, but it is not treason to question your honesty,” he replies coolly. Aemond can feel her pulse fluttering beneath her skin, the barely-contained rage on her face hidden only by a blanket of courtesy, “a maiden does not allow herself to be alone like this with another man.”

Aemond found himself, a man who had sparred with Ser Criston Cole for a large portion of his life, a man who as a child had claimed the largest dragon in the world and a man who had dealt with the burning pain of losing his eye, and the shame that he carried alongside it, was shocked into brief silence when his niece’s small, delicate palm echoed off his cheek.

It was not the force of it that stunned him so, but rather the shock that she had chosen to do it, with his hand around her neck and his frame blocking her escape.

The little dragon had felt threatened and given him a warning clip.

Aemond felt the warmth bloom on his cheek and smirked. She had slapped him on his bad side, where she knew it would sting the most. For a split second, white, hot pain nipped at the temples of his head as he turned back to face her, and saw that look on her face.

That she knew she’d made a mistake, but was too angry or proud to admit it.

Or perhaps she was both.

Excitement wriggled and rolled in his stomach at the whimper that escaped her lips, using the force of his grip around her tiny throat to force her back, muscles and bones rolling against the stone walls where she was trapped, and those clear, curious eyes darting back at him with distaste. And he was pleased to see, a sprinkling of horror and panic.

“That was a mistake,” he mused, pressing himself closer to her, his hand firm around her throat despite her own attempting to pry them off him. His other hand reached down, shifting her up the cold wall, and gathered her heavy skirts in his palm, and rucked them frustratingly up towards her hip.

He revelled in the terror that crossed her face, a smirk winding its way to his sharp features.

“How exhilarating,” he pondered, “to take something that you are not willing to give.”

“I will scream”.

“Then scream. I will say it was you who seduced me,” he bit back, watching her face and expressions that crossed them, “And who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter of a whore?”

He could feel her breath against his face, soothing the spot where she had struck him not a moment before. Aemond blinked slowly at the woman in his grip, apparently attempting to decide for herself whether it was worth the fight.

Or perhaps something else.

Aemond grinned, “like mother like daughter.”

And he enjoyed the fire it stoked in her eyes.

“You will let me go-”

He shook her neck in his grip, as if to make her be quiet. And it seemed to shock and scare her, for she closed her eyes to steel herself, “And then what will you do? Run? Scream? Or will you do something stupid enough to give me an excuse to make everything you’ve ever said about me, truth?”

Her jaw tightened looking at him, feeling cornered, but a strange ache between her thighs.

“You threaten me, Uncle?”

His dagger sliced the very air between them, pressing the tip to the column of her throat where his thumb had branded her not moments before, tracing the shape of her skin. His niece froze, her breath trembling and her head pressed to the wall, as if to try and pull herself feebly away from threat.

This very dagger was an extension of Aemond himself. As if his hand were still touching her but with a pointed edge. And he wondered if he sliced her skin, even just a little, would she bleed like him?

There was something there in her eyes as he looked between them. Her breath came in shallow gasps. And Aemond was willing to bet that deep down, beneath the demure veil she hides herself behind, peeking through, that she is wet and ready for him between her silky thighs.

“You are clever, dear niece,” he all but whispers, trailing the blade down to the neckline of her dress, the rich fabric yielding to it, “but not as clever as you think you are.”

She swallowed thickly as his blade teased the tied bindings to her dress, playing with the double-tied knots as if they were strings of a lute, and he was playing her easily. He plucked one, and then two, watching her face the entire time.

“You believe yourself a proper little Princess, do you not?” he asks, his voice low, almost feline in nature, his face so close to hers she can make out the stitchings of his eyepatch, “hair decorated with gold. Fingers adorned with rubies. Wrapped in lavish dresses.”

She flinched as he flicked his wrist, severing the second to last tie holding two sides of her gown together.

“But pull one little thread, and you unravel -” his tone deepens, forcing her to listen to every little syllable, his gaze boring into hers, “-and all you are…is a wanton, bastard, whore.”

She attempted to push his body away, but his dagger clattered to the floor, holding her easily by her wrists, near-painfully pressing them to the stone wall behind her. It happened so quickly. Lips, teeth and tongue fought as if in battle, and Aemond held her there for him, pressing his rapidly hardening length against her clothed womanhood, rolling his hips against hers to search for that delicious, forbidden friction.

It did not seem to him that she was fighting him, but rather fighting how he made her feel.

Her lips were velvety, moist and soft as his anchored hers apart to taste her, once having a split second’s worth it was never enough. Every little breath and whimper and he wanted to make them louder, make her submit, a part of him intoxicated by her when her teeth grazed his bottom lip, and bit on him, only for her tongue to soothe the area afterwards.

Aemond thought of what would happen, if he devoured her wholly, pressed so hard against her that it was difficult to fathom where either of them began and ended.

His lips moved along her jaw. She smelled of whatever oils were combed through her hair. Camomile and something sweet perhaps. Quickly his hand left her wrist to ruck her heavy skirts up to her waist, feeling her shiver at the touch he left behind with the brief touch of his fingertips where no man had touched before.

“Fight back,” Aemond dared, a mere whisper against her neck where he left his bruise-like mark.

He met her gaze, looking into her bright eyes and allowed his grip on her to slowly relax, waiting to see if she would push away. Scream and run, as she had previously promised. And while her jaw was still tense and eyes aflame with hostility, he swore he saw her pupils dilate.

“Just get on with it.”

The surging heat in his stomach distracted him briefly from acting cocky, his fingers fumbling to untie his breeches while keeping her elevated. And it felt as if his body was thinking before his mind when he looked between them to see her hefty skirts bunched at her hip, and one smooth leg on display, pulling his achingly hard cock free and tucking himself between the soft haven between her thighs.

She could pretend she desired him not all she liked, but when their gazes met in fire and fury, finding that in all of their fighting and struggling she was soaking wet, Aemond pushed against her entrance until she welcomed him, sliding within her tight, choking walls with a low groan batted against her neck.

She whined at both the intrusion and his tight grip on her thigh, one hand elevating it so that he could begin pushing up brutally into her. Shame rose to her cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly, finding the wet smack of their skin rousing that tightness in her belly.

It was both embarrassing and hateful that she found herself enjoying this, and that she let him first of all.

And all she could see above her when she opened her eyes was him, his lips parted to breath as if he was holding some beastly form of himself back, his hair spilling like rays of moonlight over his shoulders with every thrust into her weeping cunt and the way his lone eye never strayed from her expression, not for a second.

That is until Aemond felt as if not only he wanted to own her shame and her body, but wanted to show it too, and leaned forward to graze his teeth on the skin that was now exposed by the ever loosening shoulders of her dress, and sink his teeth in to mark her.

The sound that came from her was between a grunt and a moan, as his position changed the angle of his hips and the blunt head of his cock sparking pleasure deep inside her.

“Fucking…hate you…” is all she managed, feeling the top of his canine break the skin just slightly. Her voice clung to that flat, stoic hatred, and she hated that it sounded as if she were about to fall apart.

If it were possible, he increased the intensity of his movements, pushing up into her mercilessly and drawing feminine, soft whines from her mouth. Sounds he wasn't even sure before his niece was capable of making.

“I adore your fire, sweet niece,” he muses lowly, tracing her jaw with his lips, “I adore how much you think you hate me.”

She does hate him, she tries to think. But every thought that appears is swiftly batted away by the incessant rhythm of his cock pistoning in and out of her, the depraved sounds betraying how she truly feels. An internal war Aemond can clearly see.

“Do you like this? Do you like how much I hate you? How much I want to hurt you?”

Yes.

A thought rung in her mind that she wanted him to hurt her more, so that she could just feel something from him aside from the way he stretched her walls around him so deliciously.

The soreness of his girth is something she had not expected to be a problem, a lapse of thought that she will no doubt be paying for the next morning.

But this, this was a core lapse of morals, surely. Allowing him to do this to her.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh, as if pulling her to meet his cock halfway, feeling the way his body shuddered at the closeness of completion evident on his face.

Aemond grinned wolfishly, “You like this. We both know it.”

He thrusted into her so forcefully that she had no choice but to hold onto him, clinging to his leather-clad shoulder tightly when he met her fleshy end, her insides involuntarily squeezing around him in both pain and pleasure.

His hand came to her neck, clamping down experimentally on her windpipe, and groaning deeply at the way her cunt sucked him in as he did. Forcing her chin up so those traitorous blue eyes met his, he grinned.

Hateful little cunt.

Her peak crept up her spine first, feeling as if the sensation was melting her muscles where they sat inside her body. And then her lips parted in a soundless scream, pitifully moving her hips towards his to encourage the feeling to crest until it rushed out of her with a feeble whine, “uncle…”

Not only was the feeling of her quivering, velvety walls enough to convince him, but the way she called him that while he was so deep inside her, threatening for relief, was so erotic it did not feel depraved in the slightest.

But nothing was better than that wide-eyed, colourful expression of panic, distaste, hate and anxiety when he deliberately planted his seed inside of her. Aemond was sure there was no better feeling, bad intentions or no, her blood felt good on him, his teeth and cock alike.

All he could imagine was what dynasty could be created from such a house of revulsion. To watch this hateful little creature swell with his child, a true Targaryen. Only to put on the same stoic, flat expression which he knew was untrue when he'd fuck her again, and again, and again.

What flame flickered under that expression of hers, he wondered. What stone was hidden in the centre of her peachy, soft exterior. A heart, perhaps.

She didn't have to like it, this dance between them. But when he put her down and watched his spend trickle down her thighs, he would have her come to love it.

She existed for this. Whatever it was. He was sure of that.

“Well, little dragon,” he whispered, “the bastard daughter of a whore, with another growing within her?”

She swallowed around his hand as he tugged her face closer to his.

“Or burn with me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch@castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

2K notes · View notes

ficeacs · 6 months ago

Text

Dragons Fight, Little Light (Chapter 1)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC Synopsis: Dragons love a chase. Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Violence, Targcest, Begins with HOTD S1, Not Proofread Word Count: 5,330 Previous Chapter

Eraena found little sleep that night. Her mind wondered if her uncle was telling the truth or was trying to get a raise from her. Was she really thought of as the promiscuous princess of Dragonstone? Well, she knew that many knew of her ventures to the village near the keep in Dragonstone but she did no wrong other than sneaking out. Eraena lay and stared at the ceiling, trying to convince herself she had not done anything wrong. The realm already saw her as a bastard; she feared that they would also see her as a whore, even though her honor stayed intact. Eraena groaned and covered her head with a pillow.

When morning came, Eraena was groggy from the lack of sleep, though the bath drew for her helped her wake. “What dress will it be today, princess?” Lyn asked, and Eraena thought for a moment. “That one,” she pointed to a dress of strong blue that fashioned her skills in embroidery once more. A chain of sapphires hung around her waist, a gift her father had given her. Eraena ventured into the halls of the keep with a box in her hands. She headed towards her Aunt’s apartments.

“Princess Eraeana, your Highnesses.” The girl tried to hide her distaste when she saw Aemond. The prince had caused quite the commotion last night, why could he not let a wholesome family moment be? Eraena licked her lips and turned to Helaena with a small smile on her lips. “Good morning,” She greeted and headed towards the princess. “Oh, Eraena, so good of you to visit me,” the princess smiled.

“Of course, and I came bearing gifts,” Eraena said, placing the box on a nearby table, which Helaena made her way to. “Open it,” she said and smiled at the look of giddiness Helaena was trying to surpass. “Oh my,” she whispered. I had the resident entomologist in Dragonstone curate a collection for you of rare insects that only inhabit the island,” Eraena explained and checked the box to see if everything was in order as she had instructed. The princess had figurines in her hands for the children, but her uncle still sat with them; she thought it better that she would give it to them later when he had left.

Avoid him; do not engage. The girl reminded herself she could not afford to cause trouble once more, especially with her Mother in such a state. “Are those for the children?” Helaena asked softly, eyeing the three wood figurines that Eraena had practically forced Lucerys to make. Eraena had spent days meticulously painting a princess, a knight, and a dragon. “Oh, yes, Lucerys had carved them for the children,” Eraena said, and Helaena took her hands to inspect the toys. “He painted them too?” She asked, pale fingers tracing the figurines. “Well, no, I painted them.” She smiled.

“Come, let me introduce you to my children,” She said with a ghost of a smile. Aemond was still seated on the floor with the twins, both Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, on his lap. Eraena avoided her eyes from the prince, fearing it would entice him to tease and torment her. Helaena crouched down, and Eraena cautiously did the same. Five purple eyes turned to the girl, “This is your cousin, Eraena,” Helaena said to the twins and if Eraena were to look at the elder prince, she would see him roll his lone eye. Eraena felt her lips twitch when the twins hurriedly left their uncle’s lap and made their way to her. The look of shock and annoyance that adorned the prince’s face amused the princess, but she quickly turned away and focused on the babes in front of her.

Jaehaera clung quickly to the princess and Eraena let out a laugh on how the young princess found her way to sit on her lap like she did on her uncle earlier. “They like you already!” Helaena mussed and watched as her children switched from their uncle to their cousin. Eraena gave the princess figurine to little Jaehaera and the knight figurine to little Jaehaerys. “You have a third child, do you not?” Eraena asked and brushed the little blonde hairs away from the babe’s eyes. “Yes, Maelor, but he is still fast asleep.” Eraena nodded and returned her attention to the babes.

She would expect Jaehaera’s attention would be on the new toy but Eraena saw purple eyes on the necklace on her neck. “I—I want,” Jaehaera mumbled and tried to grab the emerald pendant that was gifted to her on her most recent name day. Eraena’s eyes widened as Jahaera pulled on the necklace, making the elder princess jerk her head forward. “Jahaera, no!” Her mother said and came to Eraena’s aid. “I’m sorry, I—“ Eraena smiled, “It’s fine; my younger brother, Viserys, has the same habit.” She said and moved to unclasp the pendant so the young princess could inspect it more. When Jaehaera had the pendant in her hands, a toothy grin spread across her face, making Eraena laugh at the adorable face of the younger princess. She surpassed the urge to pinch the cherubic cheeks and turned to Jaehaerys, who now played with both figurines.

It was then that Eraena remembered that there was another party amongst them. Her obsidian eyes found a lilac one. “Do you not have to train, brother?” Helaena asked. The prince’s eyes moved to his sister, and he silently shook his head. “Really? You are often in the tiltyard at this hour,” Helaena mumbled, “Yes, won’t Cole miss you terribly, uncle?” Eraena did not even realize the teasing words escaped her lips. Once she did, she felt her hands grow cold. Aemond was ready to throw yet another disparaging word to the girl but Helaena was quick to speak. “Tea!” She said, and the two turned to her. “Eraena, would… would you like to join me for tea?” She asked, and her invitation was quickly accepted. They handed the children to a nurse and made their way into the gardens. The emerald pendant was long forgotten.

“Oh, I’ve missed you terribly. It became dreadfully lonely these past years,” Helaena said truthfully. The princess sensed melancholy in her eyes and tone. I know what you mean, especially when you are mostly surrounded by brothers. I was lucky to have Rhaena. No matter, I am here now,” Eraena smiled, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Sister, there you are!” Jacaerys’ voice intervened. “Oh, Jace, join us, will you?” Helaena asked softly, and Eraena's brother obliged, taking his seat across from his sister. There was an awkward silence that enveloped the group. The one-eyed prince had followed the two princesses and sat across from his sister. A knight arrived, and Eraena thought maybe he was there to call over the other prince and save the group from tension. “A letter from Dragonstone, princess,” Eraena was handed a scroll of parchment with a seal she knew all too well; the girl tried her best to hide the blooming smile on her lips, remembering her brother was seated across from her.

“Dragonstone? Who writes to you from Dragonstone? We’re all here.” Jace asked with a raised brow as Helaena turned to Eraena with an intrigued look. “No one. None of importance,” Eraena says and hides the scroll from her brother’s view. “Hm,” she heard a hum coming from the left, making her turn to Aemond, whose eye had been on the scroll. Eraena prayed, prayed to the gods that her brother would not question the scroll once more, and prayed that the burning gaze of a lilac eye would stop. Eraena tried to ignore the man on her left and listen to the conversation between Helaena and Jacaerys. Avoid him; do not engage. She told herself once more.

When tea had ended, Eraena found herself with her sisters. “How long are we still to stay here? The trial had already ended. I doubt anyone else would question Driftmark’s line of succession after yesterday’s events.” Eraena asked the two. “Itching to go back to Dragonstone now, are we?” Rhaena teased, and Eraena let a smirk slip on her lips. “As a matter of fact, yes! I miss my room, the beds in here are quite lumpy. The sun is too hot; I miss roaming around without being judged! And I miss my other dresses and—“ She was cut off by Baela. “And Arthur,” She snickered, and Eraena rolled her eyes. “No! Well… yes, but I mostly miss my other dresses and jewelry.” She sighed and traced the flower patterns of her gown. “He sent me a letter,” Eraena then said, which intrigued the two girls.

Eraena looked around. They were still in the gardens, seated on a bench in a spot that not many passed. She took the scroll from her pocket and broke its seal. The two girls hovered over their sister's shoulder and read its contents.

My, Dearest, Eraena.

How are you, my flower? It has only been two days since you left, yet the island already feels so desolate without your radiant presence. The sun's rays seem dimmer, and the vibrant colors of your flowers are starting to fade; they are missing your touch. How long are you to stay there? Have the people of Kingslanding fared nicely to you, my princess?

I long for your return, yearning for the day when you shall grace us with your presence once more. It would seem that my heart longs to rest its gaze upon you. Come back soon to me.

Yours,

Arthur.

Baela and Rhaena smiled at the blush on Eraena’s cheeks. “My flower,” Rhaena teased, making Eraena roll her eyes. “Must be nice to be sent a letter with such… flowery words,” Baela said. “Jacaerys’ letters only contained about health and the weather, sometimes a story about his ventures with Vermax but never like…” Baela drifted. “Aye, Jacaerys was never one for words.” Eraena agreed and took her sister’s hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

In the afternoon, Eraena changed into her riding leathers. A wheelhouse delivered her to the pits, where her dragon awaited her excitedly. “Alina,” Eraena sang and waited for her dragon to reveal herself. The princess’s voice echoed through the pits, and what emerged was not her dragon but her uncle instead. Aemond had a fiery stare in his eye, and the girl wondered why he was already in such a state.

“Will you be quiet? You are disturbing the dragons with your grating voice.” Ice-cold words clashed with the fire in his eye. Eraena pursed her lips and rolled her eyes but nodded. Standing still, waiting for her dragon, she turned to her side, and Aemond stood alongside her. “Why are you here? Vhagar does not even fit here,” she asked and folded her arms across her chest. “Mind your own business, niece.” He spat.

Alina has still not emerged and Eraena was growing weary. She turned to her uncle once more; he had a torch in his hand. She thought to ask for it, so she could get Alina herself, but her mouth could not move and ask. Instead, she walked into the dark pits. “Alina,” Eraena called once more. The princess squinted her eyes in the dark. Only now did she wonder, where were the keepers? Eraena chewed on her lip and waited for the whine of her dragon; she was only met with furious footsteps and the orange hue of a torch. “What are you doing?” Aemond asked and took hold of her arm. “Trying to find my dragon.” She said as if it were the most obvious thing. “You do not go into the pits,”

“Hm, were you not the one who often got into trouble for constantly venturing here?” She asked innocently, remembering an instance from their childhood. The ground shook, and they turned to the she-dragon with pearly white scales that shimmered gold in the light. “Hello, my love!” Eraena said giddily and practically skipped toward her dragon. Alina bent her head toward the girl, who placed a kiss upon its snout. Eraena inspected the mighty beast, trailing her hand upon the scales. She checked the breastplate that secured her saddle, a breastplate made of gold and dragon glass.

Alina growled lowly as her obsidian eyes, eyes like her rider, landed upon the prince. “Lykiri. Lykiri, Alina.” Eraena murmured and stroked her dragon’s snout. “It would seem you agitate my dragon, uncle,” Eraena observed as she made her way to her saddle. She turned to the prince who seemed to have a contest of stares with the beast. “Do not mind the small man, Alina,” Eraena said in ancient tongue and stroked its neck. “If you would, uncle, please step aside. Would not want you to get trampled on, however tempting it is.” Eraena said. She watched as Aemond huffed and was certain that he mouthed the words ‘spoiled bastard’ under his breath, but Eraena could no longer find care; she was to fly!

Alina soared through the skies, and Eraena smiled widely, seeing Kingslanding grow farther and farther away. Alina ascended higher, and the familiar feeling of liquid in Eraena’s stomach returned, and she felt her heart pace faster. Alina liked to toy with her rider, flying as high as the heavens and then dropping back quickly to earth. “Alina!” Eraena shouted in glee as Alina flew downwards. Another roar of a dragon took Eraena’s attention, and she felt her stomach fill with dread as she saw Vhagar heading towards them. “Higher, Alina.” Eraena quickly commanded. Scared of the mighty beast her uncle rode. The princess turned back and still saw the dragon behind them.

For what seemed like hours, Eraena tried to find ways to avoid the two beasts. Stirring Alina in every direction, she tried hard not to let her fear shine through, knowing her dragon would feel it through the bond. Eraena sighed and decided that maybe she should stop flying. The girl felt annoyance surge through her as she returned to the pits once more. She sullenly removed her riding gloves and entered the wheelhouse, wholly upset at Aemond for ruining her ride.

When afternoon came, the princess found herself in the library scanning through the books she had read from childhood. Countless tales of princesses and knights, wizards and kings. Little Aegon’s name day was approaching, and Eraena thought it a good present that she made one of her favorite stories into an illustrated book for her younger brother. Little Aegon loved her paintings and illustrations, often sitting on her lap as she painted back in Dragonstone. She originally wanted to write the story herself, but it was quite a large undertaking to create a story that her brother would enjoy. Eraena stared at the stack of books before her, thinking hard as to what story she would use.

“A book is to be opened and read, not stared at.” Eraena heard a cold voice cut through the stony silence of the room. Eraena turned her head to Aemond, who stood before her. The girl was still quite annoyed by his actions earlier. The princess crossed her arm across her chest once more and stared unamused at the prince. She watched as Aemond raised a blonde brow at her scowling face. “You look ghastly when you scowl,” it only made Eraena’s frown deepen as he said words that Jacaerys had said before. It made her believe that she did look ghastly with not just her brother’s testimony but as well as her uncle's. The girl started to unconsciously pout as she tried to remove the scowl on her face.

“No word for your uncle, I see,” Aemond said and took a seat across the girl. “I have no words for foolish men who would use a dragon of war to chase other riders. Do you realize how dangerous that was?” Eraena asked and sat up straight. “It was simply a jape,” Aemond reasoned, and Eraena could not help but frown once more. Since when had he been one for japes and jests?

“That is not a jape; that is how war starts, Aemond,” the girl sighed. “Do not be so dramatic, Eraena,” the prince rolled his lone eye. “I am not being dramatic! You do not use a war dragon for a simple chase! It only knows of conquest and blood!” She watched as the prince pursed his lips, thinking of a reply. “What are you even doing here?” she asked, letting annoyance seep into her tone.

“To read,” He said as if it were the most obvious thing. “Why here?” Eraena asked, and Aemond only frowned. “Because this is the library, has your stay in Dragonstone turned you into a simpleton, Eraena?” He asked, lips twitching upwards as the frown returned to the princess’ forehead. “No, what I meant was, what are you doing here, sat upon where I had sat first. There are other places for you to read.” She said and pointed to an empty nearby table and chair. She watched as Aemond turned to the spot she had pointed to, and the prince shrugged.

Eraena rolled her eyes in response and stood. Taking the stack of books and moved to the empty spot, not wanting to be near the prince. Aemond watched, amused, as the princess took a seat that had her back turned to him. He was not even sure as to why he was in the library, not quite certain as to why he was engaging with the girl. She obviously wanted to be left alone, but Aemond could not let her have what she wanted, not when her whims and wants were always met.

Eraena tried to focus on her task once more, trying hard not to turn and glare at the prince whose gaze burnt in the back of her head. For just having one eye, he surely knew how to stare someone down, the girl thought. It was quite some time as the two sat separately in silence; Eraena was done for the day, already picked a story that she would draw illustrations of, but she did not want to be the first to leave. Somehow, her pride convinced her that she should not be the one to leave first the uncomfortable presence of the room; it would be seen that she was bothered by the prince’s presence, that Aemond had the capability to unnerve her. So, she just sat there, staring blankly at an open book, pretending to read, turning its pages as if she were actually consuming literature.

“Eraena, there you are!” She heard Rheana’s voice, and the princess quickly looked up. She watched as her sister cautiously eyed the prince seated behind her. “Your… brother has been looking for you for the past hour.” She said, confused as to why it was just the two of them in the library. Eraena nodded and stood up, taking her chosen book in hand, and quickly rushed out of the room. Her pride cannot be wounded in this situation; she did not leave because of him; it was because her brother had asked for her presence!

“What were you doing alone, with Prince Aemond.” Eraena frowned at her sister’s query, “Do not word it as such! I was not alone with Aemond. I was… was simply in an empty common room… with him.” Eraena explained. “We saw you two in the skies earlier,” Rhaena said. “That idiot made his dragon chase me and Alina!” Eraena complained. “Really? It just looked like the two of you were flying around in circles; it looked quite fun.” Rhaena shrugged, and Eraena frowned; it certainly did not feel that way. “Why was Jacaerys searching for me?” Eraena asked; Rhaena shrugged.

“Sister! There you are!” Jacaerys said from the end of the hall, walking briskly toward the two. “What is it?” Eraena asked. “There is to be a hunt two days from now,” Jacaerys said, his excitement obvious. Though Eraena was at a loss as to why he had concerned her with this. “So?” She asked. “You must teach Lucerys and me to shoot again. Luc is waiting for you in the tiltyard.” Eraena looked at her brother oddly. “What? Why me? Ask Ser Harold or even Father to teach you.” “I’ve asked them, and they told me to ask you instead,” Eraena shook her head, “No, I cannot; I will be under scrutiny from the court. They already frowned upon my venture in the gardens alone; what else if I be the one who had to teach my brothers to shoot an arrow?”

“Who cares what they think? Come now, sister, you are the best archer here!” Jacaerys tried to persuade the girl. With a couple more compliments and flattery, Eraena reluctantly nodded. “Fine! But I shall only stand by the side and watch you two. I’ll make comments here and there, but I will not touch a bow or arrow.” She explained as they headed to the tiltyard. Eraena’s eyes enclosed on their younger brother who had failed to set the arrow free. Rhaena no longer followed them, not interested in watching as Eraena grew frustrated teaching the two boys.

“Straighten your back,” Eraena instructed from the side. “Keep your shoulders lax. Lucerys feet apart,” she said. “Only use your dominant eye upon the target,” “We know Eraena!” Lucerys groaned. “Do you? You have missed every time, brother.” She said, her eyes going to the failed attempts of the two. Arrows started to pile up on the dirt ground. “You are lacking force, Lucerys; readjust your shoulders,” she said, and Luc nodded. She then turned to Jacaerys, “You do not have an aim. I fear for the others joining you in the hunt.” She said and saw as her brother rolled his eyes. “Release,” she instructed.

Lucerys had not quite hit the center but at least his bow finally stuck to the target instead of just falling into the ground. Jacaerys’ arrow, however, flew to a pile of hay. “Good Luc!” Eraena said and smiled at her younger brother. “My, my, what do we have here? Training for the hunt boys?” Aegon’s voice sounded out making three dark eyes turn to the prince. “And what are you doing here, Eraena? I had never thought you were one to spend time in the tiltyard, or are you training once more on how to maim men.” Eraena tried to surpass the grin as she saw Aegon had a slight limp to him. “Just watching my brothers, uncle,” she replied.

Aegon made his way to where the princess stood. “Then let me join you, dear niece.” The elder prince stood a bit too close to Eraena and the girl was quick to step away, putting. A hearty distance between them. Her brothers turned to her and she nodded, and the two set aim once more. Once again, Lucerys lacked force, and Jacaerys lacked aim. The girl wanted to groan, growing frustrated at the two. “Feet apart, Lucerys!” Eraena cracked, not caring that Aegon was there. She went to her brother and used her foot to indicate what the younger prince’s stance should be. “And you, Jacaerys, you must close your other eye! Your vision is being split!” She groaned and used her fingers to forcefully close her brother’s eyelid. “I can’t! I physically cannot just close one eyelid!” He said, and Eraena huffed. “Might you borrow one of my brother’s eyepatches?” Aegon mused a smirk on his lips as he watched the princess scold her brothers.

Eraena turned to Aegon, considering his suggestion. She knew it to be a jest but it would solve Jacaerys’ lack of aim. “No!” Jacaerys said, seeing the look his sister held. “Well, you won’t do well in this hunt!” Eraena returned to her spot next to Aegon. “Again!” She instructed. “I must say, I never thought you to be such an authoritarian,” the elder prince said and inched closer to the princess, though it was futile as she was returning to her brother to show him the proper stance once more.

“Back straight, Lucerys, and your foot! I swear to the gods I will nail your foot if you do not keep them apart.” She warned. She now remembered why she had not been assigned to teach Joffery high Valyrian or teach anything for that matter. The girl was too impatient. “You're growing red, Eraena,” the younger prince mumbled, and his elder brother snickered. The princess threw her brother a glare. “I’ve had enough of this, I told you. You should have just asked Ser Harold,” Eraena grumbled and returned to stand next to Aegon on the side. “So impatient, little niece… Though, I think I like you better domineering.” The elder silver prince mused. Eraena turned to the prince with a disgusted look on her face, her round lips upturned, brows once again furrowed. Aegon only laughed at his niece’s face. “Do not fret, Eraena; I shall teach your brothers to shoot. Would not want to aggravate that pretty face of yours.”

The prince made his way to take the bow from Lucerys, and the younger prince turned to his sister, who nodded. The two brown-haired princes watched as their uncle took his stance. Aegon had let go of the arrow and had impressed Eraena. He was not a terrible shot. She thought. It was slightly off-centered, but it was better than any shot her brothers had made. “Luc, look at Aegon’s footing,” She instructed, and her brother mimicked their uncle’s stance. Eraena walked closer to them, Aegon ready to let go of another bow. He felt fingers upon his upper back, “Straighten your spine, Aegon; do not hunch,” Eraena instructed. He did like her better when she was giving out orders, obviously growing annoyed. “As you wish, sweet Eraena,” he said and let go of the arrow, landing it upon the center.

He turned to look at the girl, hoping to find a look of impressed on her pretty face, but she had moved her attention to her other brother. “What are you doing?” Jacaerys asked as Eraena wrapped her handkerchief around his head, covering one of his eyes. “Shoot,” Eraena instructed; her brother was hesitant but did as she told. Finally, a centered shot from Jacaerys! A look of achievement adorned her brother’s face. He made to shoot another, and a laugh escaped his lips. “This is easy!” He said, and Eraena rolled her eyes. “All right, don’t get cocky.” Eraena returned her attention to Luc. “Ready?” She asked and her younger brother gave a nod. “Release,” The bow was off-centered, but it was close enough. “Good,” Eraena said. “Just try to aim better, and do not forget your footing.” Aegon and her returned to the side, “Thank you,” she said lowly. If he had not intervened, she would have stomped off the tiltyard. Aegon nodded with a smirk on his lips, his eyes not turned to his niece but to the figure above, watching them with a burning eye.

Another supper with the entire family was held. However, the girl could not fathom why they would think it was a great idea, especially after the events of the other night. As Eraena entered the dining hall, her seat in between Jacaerys and Aegon was gone, instead, the only empty seat was next to her other uncle. The gods really love to toy with me, don’t they? The girl thought. Dinner was started with prayer once more. It would seem appetite eluded Eraena, only pushing around the food on her plate. “I saw two dragons in the skies earlier, Vhagar and Alina. Did the two of you enjoy your ride?” Alicent asked the two silent individuals to her right. Eraena peeked through her lashes to look at Aemond, his good eye on her. He made no indication to respond to his mother, so Eraena forced a tight smile on her lips. “You can say that, my queen,” she fibbed, she did not enjoy her ride, not at all. Alicent gave the girl a small smile and returned to her meal.

“I saw the prince Aegon with his nephews and niece in the tiltyard, practicing for the hunt, I assume?” The hand inquired. Eraena turned to the three, who nodded. “The princess? In the tiltyard? You are not joining the hunt, are you, Eraena?” The queen asked, almost scandalized. “I—I am not, your grace.” She replied. “Eraena was merely supervising her brothers,” Daemon interjected. “Supervising? I would not think that a princess should have been the one to teach princes a skill such as archery,” Eraena bit back her tongue and took a chalice to her lips to hinder her from speaking out of turn.

“It…gladdens my heart to see… to see you all getting along.” The king suddenly spoke. “This… this is how it should be,” Eraena could see a smile breaking upon his cracked lips. Her mother smiled and took hold of her father’s hand. Supper ended fairly quickly, unlike the other night; this held less violence. Eraena walked the hallways of the keep, alone and her mind wandering off once again. She passed by a window alcove and paused, staring up at the crescent moon before her. Eraena leaned upon the opened window and took in a deep breath, the cool night breeze fanning her face.

“It is not wise to lurk these halls at night,” she heard the cold silky voice of Aemond. “I am not one to lurk, uncle; that is your specialty if I remember correctly.” Eraena sighed and turned to the man who stood behind her. “You seem to enjoy my brother’s company,” he said, and Eraena raised her brow. “Well, I would always enjoy the company of those who do not make chase on a war dragon’s back,” she said and watched as Aemond’s jaw ticked. “Let it go, Eraena,” The prince sighed and stepped closer to the prince. “No,” the girl felt a smirk coming to her lips but hindered it. “I will not until you apologize,” she said and wanted to laugh at the look of appalled on Aemond’s face. “I will never apologize to a bastard like you,” the girl shrugged, the word bastard rolling down her back as if it were not a deep insult he had made it to be.

“Then I shall be here to constantly remind you of your idiotic actions; what happened to the cautious boy I once knew? Has your vigilance gone with your eye, uncle?” She asked and finally let the smirk pass to her lips. It was quick to be wiped by Aemond’s next actions, forcefully pushing her to the curved wall of the alcove, his hand enclosed on her neck. Eraena’s obsidian eyes widened in fear, and her breathing stopped. She clawed at the prince’s hand. “A—Aemond,” she wheezed out, but the prince was too far gone in his own rage. Eraena closed her eyes, feeling his hold tighten, lifting the girl from the ground by her throat. “How easy it is to be rid of you now, bastard,” Aemond seethed, and Eraena felt tears run down her face. It was not until her salty tears hit Aemond’s hand that he grew aware of what he had done.

The prince quickly let go of the girl, who fell harshly to the ground. “Eraena…” he managed to say, voice growing soft. Eraena tried catching her breath and turned to the prince in horror. She quickly stood up, gathered her skirts, and ran to her chambers in fear. When in the solace of her own chambers, Eraena broke into tears. Anger cannot find a place in her being; she is only wrapped in fear. What has Aemond come to? So cruel and callous that he did not even give a second thought about taking her life.

204 notes · View notes

eraenaa · 1 year ago

Text

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them.

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises.

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given.

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons.

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint.

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips.

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions.

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh.

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first.

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance.

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense.

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms.

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought. “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him.

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger.

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip.

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it.

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing.

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs.

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure.

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped.

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written.

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well.

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions.

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours.

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye.

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name.

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly.

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

467 notes · View notes

shesjustanothergeek · 6 months ago

Text

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello, besties! How about that finale... I wanted to thank everyone who has left lovely comments and support about the story. It really makes me smile. I hope I continue to write y'all a story you like as it progresses. Thanks again!

Chapter Warnings: mentions rape, trauma, and symptoms related to childhood SA, mentions self-harm, emotional abuse.

The halls of the Red Keep were a vast expanse filled with candelabras, torches, paintings, and tapestries. If it was night, one could pass by a person and not notice them. The tremendous shadows held many secrets, causing you only to venture alone if there was no choice.

But in the day, with the help of the warm sun shining through archways and open windows, it was a magnificent sight. It made you feel deeply grateful and amazed that your ancestors built a place like this and stood the test of time with its beauty.

A tapestry, in particular, caught your eyes as you walked the grand halls to your lessons with the old crone Septa Marlow. It was woven with the finest colored wool with shiny red, green, brown, and white silk threads, depicting a scene between men, women, and dragons. Studying it with furrowed brows, you felt perplexed as you tilted your head, trying to understand the story told through the fabric. It looked like the people were naked, enjoying a festive party filled with wine, smiles, and dragons that devoured each other, mouths of men, women, and beasts on bodies in odd places.

The artist showed one man with his head buried between a lady’s thighs and a dragon pressed closely behind him. Another was a woman and a dragon resting between her legs, leaning over the top of her with its pointed tongue touching her chest. The memory of what Aegon did to you on the ramparts that night came to the forefront of your mind, and it sent a hot, nauseating wave to your stomach and privy parts. It was such a bewildering piece of art that you never noticed until now, making you wonder if it had always been there and if there were more of them.

“Do you like it?” A voice asked beside you, causing you to release a shriek as you jumped out of your skin.

As you tried to calm your nerves, Aegon suddenly stood beside you, touching your chest. Every fiber of your being told you to run. To scream, kick, or hurt your uncle after what he did, but instead, your body betrayed you, anxiety filling your shoes with rocks.

“Personally, it’s one of my favorites. It shows how our dragon blood came to be,” he continued, jutting his narrow hip to the side as he flicked his frizzy mane.

You couldn’t think, breathe, or scratch at the prickling hair on your arms. You were mad—that is what you were feeling. You were upset because your uncle stole you from your thoughts and didn’t listen when you told him to stop.

“You hurt me, Aegon!” The words echoed against the pale redstone as he flinched like you had struck him. He briefly stared at your scowl as you did with the tapestry, thin lips pursed as he tried wrapping his mind around what you could be referencing.

“Oh! You mean the other night?” Aegon chortled and shrugged his hands in the pockets of his trousers as if this was the most basic of revelations. “Twas nothing, niece. You know it. We cuff each other about all the time and think nothing of it. This was no different.”

Fire filled your veins at his passivity, digging your nails into your skin until they left crescents in their wake. “No, this was different. You hurt me, uncle. It still hurts there,” you confessed, attempting to keep your anger instead of the gradual wetness that itched your nose.

Worry flashed in Aegon’s amethyst eyes as he fully faced you, taking a step closer as you took one back in return. He pretended not to feel the slight at your wordless rejection and held out a sinewy hand. This was how it always was when Aegon did something you didn’t like. You would pout for a few days until he begrudgingly apologized without the words, and then you and your brothers would tease Aemond. He believed this time would be no different.

“Come on,” he sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “Let’s skip your lessons today and go to the Godswood. You can pick those pretty flowers you like. It’ll be like nothing ever happened,” your uncle offered with his typical lopsided grin.

The action startled you, causing your muscles to tense and your spine to go rigid as you hugged your stomach for comfort. Fear replaced any anger you felt at the notion that you would be alone with Aegon and have no one to help you if he didn’t listen to you again. Without knowing it, your skirt became damp, a dark spot slowly forming on the sky-blue fabric between your legs as you soiled yourself.

Your face heated in shame as your uncle waited for your answer, too stunned by the involuntary action to think of running away when he abruptly noticed the liquid flowing into the cracks of the stone floor. He jumped away with a disgusted yelp like it would burn him if he touched it as you covered your eyes in embarrassment. Tears leaked from them, unable to stop the thick droplets as they ran down your cheeks like rivers and stained your sleeves. Your uncle would surely use this against you for the rest of your life.

This was all Aemond’s fault, Aegon thought. It’s not enough that he is their mother’s favorite. He had to take the one thing that was his—the only person who was solely at his side and his side only. Now, his being in his niece’s presence caused her to wet herself out of fright. He didn’t mean to hurt you. You both were having a bit of fun. The serving girls never seemed to act the way you were.

Aegon stared at you. Unsure of what to do and if you would still avoid his touch, he took another step forward, preventing the urine from touching his shoes, and reached out to extend tense words of comfort.

“All is well, niece,” he awkwardly consoled and patted your shoulder like you would a rabid dog. “Tis nothing-”

“Princess!”

The title was screamed down from the end of the hall, interrupting your uncle and distracting you from your shame. Both you and Aegon turned to the commotion and saw Septa Marlow storming towards you at a speed faster than a woman her age should travel. You were severely late to your lessons, and per your mother’s orders, Marlow was allowed to search for and punish you as she saw fit for your misbehaviors.

Releasing a defeated groan, you hung your head and mentally prepared for the tongue lashing you would receive from her and your mother later as she stood before you, huffing with her bony hands on the waist of her grey skirt. You attempted to hide the damp spot on your dress and covered it with your hands.

“Little Miss, I’ve been waiting for you in the lesson room for half an hour! Your mother told you what would happen if you skipped them again,” the old maid sighed exasperatedly, shaking her habit-covered head in disappointment. “You are a woman of the crown, and yet you toss your duties aside as if they are no more than rotten fruit. When will you learn?”

Your eyes focused on the pool that glistened in the daylight as it reflected your face. A countenance puffy with tears and wet with snot, plump, moist lips pursed into a deep frown framed by a head of dark waves. At this angle, you could see the small patch of hair you plucked out of your scalp, the urge to touch it coming over you. You wondered if others could see it, too.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m speaking to you, Princess,” Marlow ordered with a strict tone. You gradually lifted your gaze to match hers, fighting back another onslaught of tears.

You were tired of getting in trouble. You wanted to be the good girl your mother said you were, but it was hard. It seemed as if everything you did was wrong, and you began to believe you deserved harsher punishment because of your continued failure. The urge to feel the sting of hair pulled from its follicle was too strong. You needed to be alone, away from irate Septas and parents, and with your brothers or Aemond—people who understood your sadness and would listen to it.

Your Septa observed you with calculating eyes, flicking from the sorrowful arch of your brows to the downward bow of your lips to your stained skirt. You tried to obscure it more from her view, twisting your body to the side, but it was for naught as she pulled at your wrist, displaying your disgrace for all to see. Marlow’s gaze was piercing, trying to pull puzzle pieces together as she looked from you to Aegon.

Without warning, she yanked you behind her by your arm, feeling as if she wanted to pull it from the socket and put her body between yours and your uncle’s.

“What did you do?” she interrogated sharply, her thin lips becoming even thinner with her jaw set. Aegon stared at her, stunned, and you began to weep in horror. “What did you do to her?”

The question sent chills down your limbs, making the hairs stand on end. What did he do to you? All you could comprehend was that Aegon hurt you with a part that was supposed to be covered, like when you would get into fights that developed into blows. You knew it was wrong, but how Marlow shielded you with her body like a soldier on the battlefield made you think it was more than what a simple scuffle would be.

Aegon stared at Septa Marlow, shocked. His mouth agape as he stuttered to explain, his hands gesturing when he couldn’t get the words out. “Nothing!” he shouted in defense and stepped back from the elderly woman.

“Liar,” she staunchly declared as she grabbed your uncle by his ear, bringing him closer to her seething gaze.

“Unhand me wench! I am a prince!” He screeched like a kicked dog, yelping and hollering in astonishment. You never thought Septa Marlow was so hearty or bold enough to scream in the crown prince’s face, and it scared you to no end as you hid in the fabric of her scratchy wool dress.

“People respond to pain according to where they were hurt, my Prince,” she spat as you listened with surprise.

Did she know?

Aegon was awful. He felt slighted and would upset everyone just because he was. You worried Marlow would get into trouble with the Queen for touching her son and tried to lead her away, but your little arms were useless as she spoke through gritted teeth.

“She isn’t one of your toys you can use as you see fit. When Rhaenyra hears of what you’ve done to her daughter, you’re mother won’t be able to protect you.”

With that, Septa Marlow released Aegon as he whined, rubbing the afflicted area like she had ripped his ear from his head. You didn’t want her to get reprimanded on behalf of defending you, so you tugged at her sleeve again, begging with your eyes for her to leave.

“Please, Septa, I want to go to my lessons now,” you implored, the words hiccuped.

She faced you then as if she suddenly recalled your presence beside her and stroked a comforting hand down your loose hair, coming to cup your cheek with a tenderness she had never given you before. It startled you into silence. Anguish glistened in Marlow’s blue eyes, as light as the sapphire bedsheets you slept on every night as she took your balled fist into her cold one.

“Let us get you cleaned first,” she kindly replied, disregarding Aegon as if he didn’t matter.

Septa Marlow seemed almost mournful like she suddenly discovered that she had lost a loved one as she led you down the many halls to your chambers in silence.

Your ladies-in-waiting greeted you with startled expressions as they tended to their duties, surprised to see you and Septa Marlow at an odd time. The first one to bow was Edwina of House Karstark, the youngest of Lord Rolan Karstark and his Lady wife. She was a few years older than you and was stout, standing on tall, sturdy legs and hips. Her shoulders were broad underneath her crimson servant gown, which featured wide blue-gray eyes and long brown hair styled underneath her cap.

“Princess,” she politely greeted with a curtsy as the others followed.

Septa Marlow wasted no time ordering your ladies to draw you a bath, the women ceasing their actions as they hastily ran to the kitchens to gather hot water. Staring at the older woman with a wary expression, you played with your fingers as you felt the overwhelming fluttering sensation of nerves bubble in your stomach. You hadn’t bathed since before that night, and the idea of multiple people seeing you in a vulnerable state made you want to run away. This wasn’t something you had experienced before.

Typically, you loved baths, even bathing with your brothers on occasion as you played with toys and the servants scrubbed your bodies, but now, it seemed as if an abrupt aversion deep within you spawned, and you were powerless to stop it.

The maids finished with their last pail of water, dumping it into the metal tub and sprinkling in slices of oranges and nectarines, which were your favorites. Yet you still looked at the steaming water with reluctance. You didn’t want to bathe. It would take too much time, and having your body bare, feeling the hands of people gripping, scrubbing your flesh, water sloshing…

It was too much.

“Come, princess, let’s undress,” Enith, another of your ladies from House Blackbar, kindly ordered you with a wave of her dainty hands.

Without warning, you ran to your bed, resting on your knees as you shook your head vehemently. “No! I don’t want to take a bath. I want to go to my lessons with Septa Marlow!”

The women exchanged confused glances, multiple pairs of colored eyes waiting for the other to do something about your out-of-character disobedience. They knew something must be wrong. You were never one to tolerate having the slightest bit of dirt underneath your fingernails, and not only did you deny cleaning yourself despite being covered in urine, but you wanted to go to spend time with Septa Marlow. You despised your lessons. You would kick and scream until your voice gave out, saying you didn’t want to go. Now you were doing the same.

“Princess,” Marlow called her gaze disbelieving and holding a look of challenge. “You must bathe before you can be seen. Your skirt reeks of piss.” You comprehended her reasoning, but something inside you refused to listen as you shouted disagreements.

Your Septa, the boldest of the women, came forward to grab you, but you swiftly dodged her, sliding across your wrinkled sheets. She dealt with your mother before you and knew how to handle troublesome young girls, though the years weighed heavily on her parchment-thin skin and brittle bones, and she was unable to get a hold of you.

“I don’t want to take a bath!” You shouted as Edwina took a step forward, attempting to help Marlow undress you. They managed to snatch your leg and remove your dress as you wiggled and squirmed in their grasp, the fabric catching on your ears.

You quickly scampered away after they let go and flung open the adjoining door to your brother’s room, running over each of the neatly made beds as Septa Marlow and your ladies chased you. Swiftly, you ran to the exit, attempting to run out and down the hall. To where they couldn’t find you but were hastily stopped by Enith in front of you.

“Get, Princess Rhaenyra,” Marlow ordered Enith as she and Edwina restrained you, kicking and screaming in their grasp. “What is wrong with you? Does this have something to do with Prince Aegon?” Marlow pointedly questioned, on the verge of coughing with exertion.

Refusing to answer, you continued to thrash against them. You didn’t want to hurt your Septa despite disliking her, but if she told your mother about Aegon being the cause of your accident and she started asking questions, you would have no choice but to tell her about that night. Perhaps you could try to lie and say your uncle startled you in the corridor, which is why you wet yourself. You prayed to the Gods that she would believe you.

What felt like hours of struggling against a girl a few years older than you and an ancient Septa was moments as your mother emerged, a startled, wide-eyed look on her face as she watched you bite Edwina’s dress sleeve.

“Enough!” your mother shouted over your dispute, ceasing all three of you as you panted.

Without hesitation, you ripped your arms away from the women, stomping to your room and curling face-first into a maroon settee. They were powerless to stop you now that your mother was here. You could hear their mumblings through the wall as a new wave of tears crashed over you, burying your cries into the soft cushions.

You were uncertain what the reason for your sobs was. It could be that you had just experienced a rush of emotions you weren’t ready to handle or the guilt of making your ladies and Septa Marlow chase you around your shared quarters like a mouse, yet you knew the real reason. You tried denying it briefly, but the conscience your mother instilled in you made you see the truth.

You were terrified about what she would do if she discovered you snuck out with Aegon, drank stolen wine, and ate desserts from the kitchens when you were supposed to be asleep.

The door to Jace and Luke’s room clicked shut, and you briskly raised your head at the sound, seeing your mother. You swiftly buried your face back into the cushions as you heard the delicate tapping of her shoes come closer. She said nothing for a long moment, sitting beside you and rubbing a gentle hand in soothing circles on your back.

Rhaenyra wasn’t upset with your behavior; she was more concerned than anything. Like Septa Marlow said, this was unlike you. Your nursemaids taught you how to use the privy, and you hadn’t wet the bed since you were four. For Seven’s sake, it was everything your mother could do to get you out of the tub!

She knew something had happened, something terrible.

“Little love?” Rhaenyra tenderly spoke your name as she leaned closer. “Will you tell me the cause of this?”

You merely sniffled in response, rendered into tearful silence.

Rhaenyra gave you a pitying unseen smile and released a sigh through her nose. She hadn’t seen you this worked up since Aemond pushed you into the garden fountain, smacking your mouth against the stone and knocking out your front tooth. With the tooth, it was an easy fix. All she needed to do was explain that another would grow back since you were young. With this, she was unsure of the cause and did not know how to get the reason out of you.

“I can see this is hurting you, and it pains me deeply. You must know that whatever transpired will never make me love you less,” your mother confessed, her free hand clasping yours. “Whatever has you feeling in such torment is far more harsh of a punishment than I could ever give you. I could not bear to do more.”

Slowly, you removed your face from the pillow, turning to rest your plump cheek on it. “You won’t be mad at me if I tell you?” you asked with a childish softness to your voice.

“You know that I won’t ever lie to you. I cannot guarantee I won’t be upset, but the inner torment you currently face suffices any consequence I could give you,” your mother replied honestly, sighing and scrunching her brows.

While the words didn’t make you feel better, you did feel a lightness in your soul. You fully faced her then, tearful eyes glistening in the natural light like polished mahogany obsidian. Hiccuping your breaths, you leaned on your mother’s shoulder as she wrapped her long arm around you, uncaring about the foul-smelling gown.

“Aegon, he sn-snuck up on me while I went to my lessons. He scared me,” you explained, thoughts and memories all mumbled together as you began to twist your hair to soothe your nerves.

“Is that all?” she inquired in disbelief. “Your uncle scared you, and that caused you to…” Your mother didn’t finish the thought before you shook your head, impulsively tugging at your dark locks.

“No, Mama. It happened before then. A few-a few nights ago, Aegon left me a note underneath my pillow and said he had something to tell me. He told me to follow a secret passage and that he was waiting for me.”

You saw the color drain from your mother’s face, her violet eyes widening in horror as she swallowed nervously. “We went into the kitchens and wine cellars, helping ourselves to food and drink. A scullery maid caught us, and then he took me outside to the battlements of the Holdfast. We sat, ate, and drank, and he told me about Queen Alicent’s plan to arrange a marriage between us.”

Your mother clenched her jaw, clutching your shoulder and forcing you to face her, gaze searching for something. “Is that all?” You swiftly nodded your head. “Nothing else happened? Your uncle didn’t take you anywhere? He didn’t touch you?”

You stared at her, confused, examining the delicate slope of her nose and the intensity of her eyes. “No. Aegon didn’t take me anywhere. We stayed in the castle,” you answered hastily, trying to appease her unrest. “But he did hurt me. That’s why I don’t want to bathe; it still hurts.”

“What do you mean? How did he hurt you?” The severity of her gaze didn’t lessen, her strong fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders as she said your name.

“He put his privy part inside-”

You were unable to complete your sentence as your mother suddenly let out a heart-wrenching cry, pulling you close to her chest as she sobbed. Her outburst took you aback, but instinctively wrapped your arms around her, trying to offer comfort.

“Tis alright, Mama. It’s like when I lost my front tooth,” you said calmly, but she shook her head.

“No, no, it’s not. Aegon did something to you, something you are far too young to comprehend. Does Alicent’s bitterness for our youth blind her from decency and honor?”

And with that, you learned what Aegon did to you.

Rape.

Your eldest uncle raped you before you knew the meaning of the word—before you inquired where children came from. The tapestry you saw in the hall made sense now, except they were experiencing pleasure while you experienced pain. Your mother told you that what Aegon did was something that should only happen between two people who understood the consequences of sex.

Your uncle took advantage of your innocence and abused his power over you. He knew you would allow him to do whatever he wanted because you sought his approval like nothing else.

Your mother told you she also experienced something similar with her Uncle Daemon when she was much older and comprehended what sex was. She recounted how he left a note for her that led to a passage in her chambers just like you did, though he led her out of the safety of the Red Keep to the Streets of Loom and Silk to see her people where he abandoned your mother. You decided then that you didn’t like your Great Uncle Daemon.

“Did he…” Rhaenyra couldn’t finish her question, tears choking her. “Did he reach completion? Did his… his seed…”

You stared at her in confusion, still grappling with all she had explained. “Aemond caught us and took me back to his room. I didn’t see any of his seed afterward,” you answered plainly as your mother grimaced at the words. “He hasn’t told anyone. He promised not to. We’ve spent time together reading, and I think he’s becoming my friend.”

Rhaenyra wiped the water from her face and gave you a forced smile, her mouth wet as she bobbed in acknowledgment.

“Wonderful. I’m happy for you. You’ve always been a kind girl,” she thickly said, swallowing the excess moisture and smoothing your loose strands of hair. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? I can show you how so you don’t have to become bear with anyone you don’t want to.”

“But it’s going to hurt, mama,” you whined, tugging on her satin gray dress sleeve.

“I know, sweetheart, but you must,” she sighed, stroking you in a gesture of comfort for you or her; you didn’t know. “How about we bring Jace here? He’s due for a scrub.”

Rhaenyra would do anything to control this uncontrollable situation.

Fidgeting with your hair nervously, you nodded in acquiescence, allowing her to undress and lower you into the water. The warm liquid burned you between your legs like you thought it would as you clawed at your mother’s arms, releasing whimpers with tensed muscles until you adjusted. She comforted you with sweet nothings until you calmed, kissing your forehead and calling for a servant to fetch your brother.

Jace arrived begrudgingly moments later from his lessons and stripped himself bare. You couldn’t help how your gaze drifted below his waistline as you unwillingly compared it to the memory of Aegon’s. You wondered what it would look like, “aroused,” as your mother called it. It sent an unwelcomed yet not entirely unpleasant tickle into your stomach as he got in with a huff.

As Rhaenyra declined the assistance of your attendants and Jace’s manservants in bathing her children, she deftly took the supplies from them and dismissed them with a swift gesture. Guiding you on scrubbing your body and washing your hair, she momentarily paused as she came upon the small patches of missing hair. A sense of anxiety gripped you as you felt her fingers inspecting the area, but to your relief, she made no comment and continued as if nothing occurred.

You appreciated her kindness and understanding more than ever at that moment as Jace mischievously splashed you with soapy liquid, and a water fight between giggling siblings ensued.

The sun casts its faint glow from behind the gray clouds of King’s Landing, rays of light shining as if from the heavens above. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood atop her high balcony with her newborn in her sturdy arms, swaying him gently as she hummed a tune and looked over all the splendor the city offered. It was a land she would one day rule over and her children after her as she smiled at the sleeping bundle near her heart.

The Princess loved her children dearly, especially the man she had them with. Despite having a name that would strike fear into his foes, he had a gentle heart. She felt her allies severely dwindle when he left. In a place Rhaenyra called home, she began to feel like an outcast. Suppose Alicent’s elaborate charade of parading a newborn child and its mother around the Red Keep was any say. The lengths her old friend would go to humiliate Rhaenyra were limitless.

She recalled balking at her husband Laenor abandoning his post at the Red Keep to escape the rumors of the court and martial unhappiness to fight in the Stepstones with his father. But as time passed, the idea of leaving became more and more reasonable to Rhaenyra. On the chance that she would leave her home, it would not be for her, but for her children, for her only daughter whose innocence was taken before she knew what it was. It made her ill to understand that a child who was far too young to wonder where children came from would experience such depravity.

Now more than ever, Rhaenyra questioned her children’s safety.

The Princess didn’t care about the concept of purity in this situation. No one knew what occurred other than the two involved, her and Aemond. If word happened to get out, she would fight for her daughter’s name. She was sure her half-brothers would not tell anyone, as it would be death to Alicent’s and her family’s pious image. It was mutually assured destruction.

The door to Rhaenyra’s bed chambers opened, and a guard bowed and announced the unexpected visitor. She didn’t invite anyone. At the thought, her heart began to race, and she worried it could have something to do with you as she put Joffrey down.

“Queen Alicent of House Hightower,” he boomed, bowing his helmeted head as the woman entered.

Rhaenyra had half a mind to send her away. How dare she come into her quarters after everything that happened? After decades of torment and snide comments, she approaches her old friend with an air of ignorant, entitled kindness.

“My Queen,” Rhaenyra acknowledged, refusing to extend a bow as she clasped her hand behind her back. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Alicent smiled briefly, encircling her fingers over her olive and gold waist as she stepped closer. The pointed star of the Seven glistened around her dainty neck. She swallowed as the Princess studied her with calculating eyes, sensing an unusual aura of hostility.

“Excuse my intrusion, Princess. I needed to speak to you. I know that we’ve had our share of differences as of late,” she began with a deep breath, wringing her digits, “but I believe that we agree on the decency of the realm and the future of our Houses.”

Rhaenyra raised a manicured brow at the woman before her, and her peony lips curled into a snarl of disgust. She knew the next words that would undoubtedly follow.

“I know you are not blind to the rumors about the plainness of your children-”

“Vile accusations fueled by those lusting for my ruination,” the Princess interrupted, standing behind the golden-colored settee that separated her from the Queen.

Alicent sighed and pursed her lips, refusing to admit her part in the gossip. She knew it was fact, but that didn’t matter now. She could sense a change in the air, could feel the future in which her light slipped away into the darkness. It was a desperate proposition, seeing as Rhaenyra had already made one.

“I recall in the days prior that you proposed a marriage between your son Jace and my only daughter Helaena. I wish to offer a compromise, your eldest daughter and my eldest son. They would make a fine match. No one would seek to undermine your inheritance if our Houses were united if we allied ourselves,” she rushed, worried that Rhaenyra would interrupt her like before and spoil her dream.

She desperately wanted to call you her own, to turn things into how they were meant to be. Alicent itched to tear at the skin of her nails as the Princess stewed in the silence.

Rhaenyra was insulted at Alicent’s desperation and audacity in countering a marriage alliance that her father told her she vehemently refused. One didn’t do these things. Alicent, the woman who spouted about decency and propriety, dared propose a marriage after the atrocity her son committed before the eyes of the Gods.

A scornful laugh erupted in Rhaenyra’s chest as she traced the wooden engravings of the furniture. “Do you truly think me so desperate?” she challenged bitterly, shaking her loosely tied hair. “You approached my negotiations with such repugnance, and now you come asking me if I will sell my only daughter to that wastrel you call a son. No. You’ve already taken too much.”

Hurt and confusion laced the wrinkles of Alicent’s face, her doe eyes wide with a helplessness Rhaenyra hadn’t seen since they were girls. She felt as if the Queen pierced her heart with her amber orbs, but she swiftly pushed it aside as she recalled the swollen patches of missing hair on your scalp. Distress was not the expectation Rhaenyra had in mind when she denied Alicent, and it briefly perplexed her before the realization dawned.

“You don’t know,” she enunciated more to herself than the woman in the room. “Of course, he wouldn’t tell you, but why not Aemond?”

The Queen became distressed at Rhaenyra’s ambiguity and finally began to pull at her cuticles, attempting to distract her from the anxiety and turn it into pain. She wanted to ask what Aemond and Aegon didn’t tell her, but the words stuck in her parched throat.

Rhaenyra let out a sharp breath through her nose as she walked around an armchair and became face-to-face with her forgotten friend. A sense of superiority came over the Princess at finally having the upper hand after years of pining for Alicent’s kindness. At the moment, she had no desire to end the strife between them.

“Aegon stole my daughter into the night and led her to the ramparts of the Holdfast, where he raped her,” Rhaenyra described with a pointed fury. “Do you know what it’s like to hear your child cry in your arms because someone debased her? She didn’t know the name of what happened to her.”

Gasping in horror, Alicent covered her lips in shock, bracing one hand on her stomach as if she would vomit. Her son, her firstborn, the child that she loved dearly but also doomed her to eternal suffering, had raped his young niece. Aegon raped the Gods’ Light. If anyone got word of the atrocity committed on the small folk’s favorite Princess, the realm would turn on House Hightower. No one would support Aegon’s claim despite him being a son.

“Who else knows of this?” Alicent hastily asked, her face pale with fear. A small, desperate part of her still wished to continue with the proposal. Maidens were forced into unhappy marriages as a part of life, and this one would be no different.

With a dismissive snort, Rhaenyra pivoted away from the Queen and strode back to Joffrey’s cradle. It was no shock to her that the Queen had made such a request. Her preoccupation with appearances and how she was perceived always seemed to overshadow genuine empathy, a characteristic that she appeared to have inherited from her father.

“Aemond, and now, you,” Rhaenyra answered as she stroked the button nose of her newborn. “That is the boy you want my child to wed. Her rapist. What do you think my father would do should he find out?”

Alicent inhaled sharply, nerves winding themselves into a ball as blood trickled into her nail beds. “There is no need to get the King involved. His health is far too precarious. I shall see to it.”

The Princess stood in the dimly lit chamber, her emotions simmering beneath the surface as she gazed down at Joffrey, nestled amidst the soft white linens that cradled him. It was nearly time for his feeding, and she didn’t want to continue discussing with the wetnurse present, knowing that any whispers or speculation about her daughter would spread like fleas.

“Good. Out of our shared blood, I will spare Aegon from his fate at the Wall. Know that I will be the one to decide where my daughter’s hand goes. You may take your leave,” Rhaenyra dismissed with a flick.

Alicent stood frozen in place, her wide brown eyes shimmering with tears as her hand instinctively reached for the delicate Seven-Pointed Star pendant resting at the base of her neck. This object symbolized her unwavering devotion to Faith, virtue, and sacred things. However, in this moment of distress, it felt as though the points of the star were searing into her flesh, cutting into her tender palm like a mark of condemnation. The Queen’s fury, initially directed inward at herself for the perceived failure of raising a son she deemed unworthy, swiftly turned towards her eldest child.

One thing remained unanswered as Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat, inhaling a deep breath before the question came from her plump lips.

“How does Aemond know? Did he…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, choked at the idea that both her sons were the wickedest men.

Rhaenyra shook her head scornfully, sneered, and took Joffrey into her arms, refraining from the bitter laugh that threatened to erupt. “He stopped Aegon from reaching completion inside her, but there was no point. He’d already damaged my daughter beyond comprehension. She wets herself at the sight of him and refuses to bathe without her brother.”

The Princess’s gaze traveled to the floor, a scowl on her face. The recollection of you whimpering as you lowered into the tub played in her mind’s eye. She sat on the lavish settee that separated her from the Queen, exhausted, the effort of standing still too precarious after her labors.

“That is your decency,” Rhaenyra jeered as Alicent stood with her back ramrod straight.

The wetnurse entered the Princess’s chambers before she could respond, wordlessly understanding that this was not a subject to discuss in front of the staff.

The act of Aegon fraternizing with maids and indulging in excess was already troubling, but he deliberately destroyed one of the few things that brought Alicent joy. It felt like a personal attack. He shattered your innocence and the light that used to brighten Alicent’s dreams. Although conflicted about the fact that it was her son who committed this act, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of rage inside her, causing her to drop her arms to her sides swiftly.

Sins such as these will not go unpunished, she thought.

“I thank you for your time, Princess. I will see that the matter is duly handled.” With a heavy heart, the Queen bid farewell to her old friend, lingering momentarily at the chambers’ door before leaving. Little did she know that it would be many years before she would set foot in that place again.

As Rhaenyra observed the Green Queen’s departure, her auburn locks cascading gracefully with each subtle movement of her hips, she resolved to assume dominion over Dragonstone. Despite the perils of her leaving, her children’s safety took precedence over her own. The Red Keep was no longer a secure place for any of them.

Alicent waited until twilight blanketed the castle as she tentatively nursed a goblet of wine, candles flickering in the darkness. She rarely indulged in this vice, but this day required such comfort. She didn’t think one’s world could end in mere moments, yet for her, it did. The future that helped lay Alicent to rest atop her silk pillows was no more.

After years of tolerating Rhaenyra’s and Viserys’ arrogance, upholding duty, the kingdom, and the law, she felt she was due this one thing. It was not so much to ask. If her old friend were a better ruler, she would understand that marriage to the one who took advantage of you would be a minuscule sacrifice to make for the good of the realm. But Rhaenyra was a good mother, not a ruler—something which Alicent both envied and disliked.

Downing the last contents of her cup, Alicent stood still in the day’s attire as she nodded to Ser Criston, who returned one in kind. He knew her destination without her speaking it into existence, escorting her the few rooms to her eldest son’s. She didn’t bother the courtesy of knocking as she shoved open the sturdy oak door to reveal her son resting on the mattress near his window, sheets at his thighs and prick in his hand. Bile briefly burned the Queen’s throat, covering her sneered lips to prevent it from spilling.

It wasn’t the first time she caught Aegon pleasuring himself, nor did she think it would be the last as she witnessed him with a pocket portrait of you in his grasp, stroking his glistening member. Alicent felt sick, turning away from the blasphemous sight before her and into Ser Cristion’s armored chest. This is not her son.

“Fuck!”

The commotion alerted Aegon to their presence as he shouted obscenities, swiftly covering his hips with the discolored sheets. Was he not afforded the same privacy as others? The Keep was his home, too.

“You are in the presence of your Queen Mother. Act as such,” Criston ordered, the whisper of his hand gliding over Alicent’s back. She stepped away from her sworn protector, brown curls loose as she swallowed her tears.

“What have you done now?” she interrogated with a resentful shake of her head, a scowl on her plump lips.

Aegon peered at her confused, mouth opened as he craned his neck upwards. It was hard to tell what his mother implied, seeing as he got into his fair share of mischief alone and with his nephews and niece. “I don’t know what you mean,” he answered honestly, and Alicent believed him.

She knew her son would survive daily with nothing but firewater and was unsurprised by his dispassionate attitude. This was another one of his jokes, she realized. Aegon was so ignorant of his bullying that it became his nature. He was incapable of understanding the magnitude of how his actions affected others.

“What you did to the Princess, how you lured her from her bed at some unholy hour and raped a child! She is a child, Aegon!” Alicent roared, her velvet voice rattling in her throat with anger, arms trembling at her sides. “She does not understand the relationship between man and woman, and you took advantage of her. She trusted you!”

Tears pooled in Aegon’s amethyst eyes, his mouth pouting from his mother’s tirade. “She told me I could do it. I didn’t mean to hurt her!” he protested, recoiling. Aegon felt like a child who destroyed a precious vase after his parent told him not to touch it. “Did Aemond tell you? You know he’s lying. He’s still upset about the pig.”

“Another depiction of your cruelty,” the Queen snidely retorted, face curled in disgust. “Rhaenyra will never agree to a union of our Houses after what you’ve done. You’ve ruined all prospects of my happiness. How does it make you feel to treat your mother this way?”

When her son did not answer, choosing to lower his head and cower, she stormed towards him, causing Aegon to scamper upright in fear and clutch the sheets in his trembling fingers. Without warning, Alicent struck her son across his cheek, pink blooming across his pale skin. Her son cradled his face as tears began to fall, but she roughly yanked Aegon’s hand away, hitting him like before and causing his lip to split as she screamed.

“How does it feel to have destroyed a child’s life? To have effectively decimated all chances of peace with your repulsive desires? She would have solidified your claim. No one would have thought to raise their banners otherwise,” she fumed as her arms gestured wildly, Aegon flinching with her move. “The realm’s blood is on your hands.”

He hiccuped, unevenly breathing as snot dripped into his mouth, stinging his bloodied lip. Aegon rubbed his swollen cheek that would no doubt bear the mark of his mother’s rage the next morn, swallowing his tears, spit, and mucus.

“I’m sorry, mummy,” he remorsefully expressed, looking down in shame.

He was only sorry because Alicent found out. Had it not been for her proposition to Rhaenyra, his mother would have never found out.

She sneered, glaring at her son as Alicent abruptly recalled a quote from a book about motherhood she read as a young girl. It stated how deeply a mother’s love for their child went. It was like nothing else and knew no law or pity. How its mere existence dares all things and remorselessly crushes down all that stood in its path.

Alicent could find evidence of herself in her children, no matter their Targaryen queerness or the silver hair and violet sparkle in their eyes. She saw herself in Helaena’s gently sloped nose, Aegon’s round and sleepless eyes, Aemond’s straight-backed bearing, and how his expressive brow always gave away his genuine emotions.

On the worst of days, she reminded herself that she left a legacy—that Viserys didn’t devour every evidence of her girlhood with his cursed blood. She clung to these shards of herself, reflected at her from her children, and it felt like trying to pick up splinters of colored glass from a broken Sept window with her delicate fingers.

The Queen loved Aegon but could not do so as she did for Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, and you. She would drink poison for her eldest but couldn’t embrace him. Alicent would step into dragon fire for him yet refused to say the words he desperately longed to hear. She tried to tell Aegon that she would love him no matter what he did, that he could not stop her from doing so, but the confession refused to roll off her tongue.

“You are no son of mine,” she declared, inhaling a shuddering breath. There was nothing more for her to say, and she left her son, whimpering and sniveling in the confines of his bedroom.

Aegon stood alone in the dimly lit chamber, his eyes fixated on seeing his mother’s departure. Overwhelming agony and disgrace filled his being, and he found himself utterly wounded beyond words. It cut him deeply to the core that the person who was meant to love and protect him unconditionally could cause him such anguish. He couldn’t fathom how the one stable relationship he had hoped for in a tumultuous life had turned out to be the source of his deepest pain. It seemed as though his mother’s love was limited, only granted to those who could fulfill her expectations.

It seemed as if taking the place of his mother’s favorite wasn’t enough. Aemond also had to take his only true friend.

Aegon concluded that Aemond must have made the situation far worse than it was in an attempt to direct Alicent’s wrath onto him. No doubt his younger brother did something to displease her. Without Aemond’s interruption, none of this would have happened. His mother wouldn’t be upset with him, Aegon would still have his pride, and you would still be his friend. After all, you were his first.

You were not naive. You comprehended why your mother chose to depart from the Red Keep, and you felt responsible for it all. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the idea of residing on Dragonstone. In the summer, it was a magnificent place. Aegon the Conqueror’s garden was a breathtaking sight that could rival the Keeps, and the perpetual breeze that swept across the island made the high temperatures quite bearable. Nevertheless, you were apprehensive about living there.

It wasn’t your home.

You were born and grew up here, surrounded by companions and starting a new beginning with your Uncle Aemond. The Keep was all you knew, but it wasn’t all joyful memories. You often faced relentless teasing from your uncles for not having Valyrian features and simply because you were a girl. Despite the challenges, you wanted things to stay the same, even after what Aegon did. When your mother revealed important news during supper, you didn’t complain about your shared feelings, unlike your brothers.

As the sun dipped below the western horizon, casting a warm yellow-orange glow across the sky, your mother gently reassured you that Aegon would never trouble you again as she tucked you snugly into bed. Rhaenyra, taking no chances, commissioned the palace locksmith to forge a sturdy iron bolt for the tunnel door and generously compensated him for his secrecy. She doubled the guard outside your chambers also to further ensure your safety.

Knowing that your eldest uncle could not breach your defenses brought you immense relief, finally allowing you to rest your head. However, that sense of peace shattered as you awoke suddenly, a flutter of anxiety gripping your chest.

Your mother arranged to leave King’s Landing within a fortnight, and with your guards becoming more of a presence than before, you worried when you would see Aemond to tell him goodbye. Your mother had expressed her displeasure at you spending time with any of the Queen’s children, and you didn’t want him to think you abandoned him.

Laying in your soft bed, surrounded by your plush pillows and fluffy duvet, you tossed and turned, battling the idea of if you should do what started this in the first place and sneak through the tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast. You were scared about becoming lost in the vast passages, but you inhaled an encouraging breath and threw your covers off. A shiver ran through your body, whether from the sudden lack of warmth or anxiety; you were unsure as you snatched the lit candle from your bedside table.

You planned to go into the first door you saw and take yourself from there, which proved problematic when it didn’t budge, no matter how hard you pushed. It sent a surge of panic into your soul as you glanced around the dark hallways, the sounds of rats squeaking and water dripping adding to the storm of fear that formed. You felt helpless, afraid that from the blackness, a monster would emerge and devour you whole, leaving nothing but bones for your parents to find.

Exhale. Inhale.

The steady breathing of your lungs calmed your nerves enough to think clearly. All you needed to do was find the next exit. Eventually, the tunnels would end.

As you went to step forward, a rock rolled under your shoe, causing you to stumble briefly before an idea came to mind. You recalled days when you spent outside with Helaena or your brothers drawing on the stone walkways of the Keep, creating pictures of your family, dragons, and all sorts of animals before they were washed away by rain. There was no rain in here. You could use it to mark your path and retrace your steps if lost.

Dragging the stone along the walls created a line lighter than the rock as you felt it vibrate along uneven surfaces. Finally, you found another door. You moved the indentation with the shove of your shoulder, and it opened, revealing a dark room lit by only the silver moon glow shining through the windows.

You realized it was the library as you saw the towers of bookcases lining the room and felt a surge of victory. Quickly, you scribbled the word onto the passage wall as you shut the portal, a painting depicting a fierce battle between men and dragons hanging on it. You could navigate yourself from here and stealthily walk the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep until you find Aemond’s quarters and enter as you did before.

He wasn’t startled this time and only sleeplessly turned on his side to face you, opening his covers, which you crawled in greedily. You stuck yourself to Aemond’s side, pinning his arm uncomfortably between your bodies until he unwedged it with a sigh and put it under your neck. You were silent for a long moment with your hands tucked near your chin, unsure how to tell him you were leaving.

Aemond realized as he stared at the top of his canopy bed, violet eyes focused on the fabric that swirled in the night. The more he got to know you, the more your presence stopped irritating him. He liked that you respected his boundaries despite having different ones. You knew that Aemond preferred silence and hated it when someone took his things or disrupted whatever plans he made for the day, which was why he was so affronted when you decided to make a regular appearance in his life.

“My mother is taking us to Dragonstone,” you blurted, unable to express yourself otherwise.

Aemond blinked at you in the darkness and unhurriedly turned, his brows arched. “For how long?” he questioned.

“I’m not sure,” you softly soughed, gazing downcast. “I think forever. Mother doesn’t think we’re safe after what Aegon did and the rumors that we’re…” You couldn’t finish your thought. It was as if the word bastard was something you could not say aloud.

Aemond knew what you meant and pursed his thin lips as resentment swirled in his stomach. It felt like he couldn’t have anything that made him happy. Born without a dragon, he was forced to be the odd one out, and now he was losing the only person his age who seemed to care for him. Something or someone would permanently ruin his happiness. In this case, it was his brother. Hatred burned in his heart for Aegon.

“I don’t think Mama will allow me to visit the Keep. She doesn’t want us to be around Queen Alicent or any of you,” you sullenly confided, melancholy tugging your eyes. “A part of me wants to leave because of Aegon, but the other wants to stay with you.”

“I don’t need you to be my friend. I don’t need your pity,” Aemond barked, causing you to flinch. It was the only way he knew to be when he was uncomfortable with the notion of vulnerability.

You sighed, squirming closer to him and putting your palm on his chest. “I don’t feel bad for you, Aemond. You’re my only friend besides my brothers. Why would I want to leave you behind?”

He didn’t know how to respond, unused to someone other than his mother speaking with candid emotions.

“I enjoy spending time with you, uncle. You’re the first person I told that I wanted to be like Nymeria and find my Mors Martell,” you confessed, playing with the fabric of his nightshirt between your fingers. He didn’t know why the idea that you needed to find your prince consort vexed him.

“We all must make sacrifices for family,” Aemond stiffly explained.

You could only get Aemond to offer you comfort by explicitly telling him. He was locked within his mind’s fortress, refusing to let anything or anyone in.

“When Gaelithox is big enough, I’ll ride him and visit you. I promised that we would fly together.” Aemond’s purple orbs flicked to you at the reminder of your oath, and after a long stretch of speechlessness, he took your hand.

“Very well,” he nodded, and you nestled closer to your uncle, resting your temple in the crook of his neck. That was good enough for you. You could rest easy now, but your uncle’s mind still whirred, stuck on one thought.

“Do you think you’ll ever find your Mors Martell?” he asked, stirring you from your slumber. “I heard my mother talking one day, and she said that there was no place for a woman to have expectations for her husband. She must accept whatever match her father deems necessary.”

You hushed for a long moment, and Aemond thought you might have fallen asleep before you rose in your arms, looking down at him in the darkness. “I’m a Targaryen princess, not some regular noblewoman. My mother said I may choose who I want to marry, whether he be a knight, a dragon rider, or a second son—so long as he’s worthy.”

Seeing the hesitancy in his gaze, his silver-blonde hair loose and draped over the green satin pillows, you leaned down, bestowing a short yet sweet kiss to the top of his sun-spotted nose with a grin. He lay there, shocked, unable to speak or move, his cheeks blooming a vibrant pink that you could see in the darkness as you lay back down, feeling satisfied in your gut.

“All I ask of him is that he has a good heart, cares for me as I do him, is someone with whom I can trust my secrets, and protects me from my enemies. That is the type of man who’s worthy. Dragon or not, it doesn’t matter,” you sighed contentedly, feeling the claws of sleep overtake you.

You stirred with a blink when Aemond’s hand rose slowly and tentatively touched your cheek, your brown eyes wide and glimmering in the moonlight. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft, and warm your skin felt under his fingers. He pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath quicken. Your uncle was hesitant about expressing what he wanted so as not to frighten you. Aegon was experienced with this sort of thing, not Aemond, and understood that you would see him the same way if he went about it like his brother did.

As unworthy.

A monster.

As he leaned in closer, he gently ran his thumb across your skin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers traced the curve of your neck, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Even in the dimly lit room, he could feel the heat of your blush.

“May I?” he asked, voice mumbled as you nodded quickly, a giddy feeling in your heart.

You gently traced your fingers along his chiseled jawline, savoring the unfamiliar intimacy of Aemond’s proximity. It sent a surge of warmth through his stomach, and his heart raced as he tenderly cupped your cheek in his hand.

When your uncle’s lips finally pressed against yours, he was surprised by how soft and moist they were, pulling swiftly in slight embarrassment with a noiseless click of flesh. He turned away with hot ears and abruptly shut his eyes, feeling like he was about to die simultaneously from bashfulness and excitement.

“Let us sleep,” he tenderly ordered, settling back into his former position. It was too much emotion for one time, and you didn’t want to push him further. Aemond felt ashamed that he was sharing the same bed as his bastard niece, yet her presence had a calming effect on him.

You answered nothing, settling beside him like before as he put his arms around you, sending a flutter in your heart. It was his first kiss, just like yours, and for the first time in many years, he felt proud, fulfilled, happy, and worthy. For the time being, he didn’t worry about what a life without you and your brothers meant for him, focused only on your comforting warmth and scent that reminded him of a cool, bright summer day as you both fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I hope y'all enjoyed that last scene because it'll be the last sweet one for a long time! XD

Bedwetting, refusing to take baths/showers, and uncontrollable bladder and bowel movements are all common signs of childhood SA. I didn't add that scene in there just for the shock factor. While I didn't experience those symptoms, they are textbook signs.

Some of you shared your experiences in the comments and said what happened to the OC was validating. I wanted to give y'all a public thank you for sharing your experiences even when you didn't have to, and FUCK YOU to whoever did those things to you. Still, there are so many different ways people react to trauma that there isn't a "right" or "acceptable" way to cope with it. Just remember to get professional help if you're able and find ways to channel those feelings that will benefit you positively. It's a lifelong process that can be exhausting at times, but what I like to tell myself (even if it's morbid) is that if I'm dead, then I can't be anything, and if I'm not anything, then the wrong that person did to me is nothing. I don't recommend that line of thinking to everyone, tho. XD

Thank you again for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf, @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024, @aleemendoza2425-blog

236 notes · View notes

aemondwhoresworld · 7 months ago

Text

MAE. RECCOMEND LIST

AEMOND TARGARYEN

AEGON TARGARYEN

JACAERYS VELARYON

HARWIN STRONG

CREGAN STARK

GWAYNE HIGHTOWER

BENJICOT BLACKWOOD

162 notes · View notes

elissanatok · 2 years ago

Text

-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

part 2

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

You didn't know what you had expected when you imagined looking into his face again. a smile maybe? A hint of the boy he used to be? Well - you surely did not get whatever it was you had expected.

He looked at you with a piercing but very bored look, before he let his eye drift again to your little brother. You nervously looked from your little brother to your older one. Jacerys tried to send you a reassuring look, or maybe it was just one that screamed “I told you so”.

Before leaving Dragonstone he and your mother told you not to expect any kindness from the rest of your family. You were disappointed that they seemed to be right and that the little hope Daemon gave you when he talked about your friendship as children flew away with the wind.

You had missed him dearly. Your Aemond. But maybe this was not him. His hair had grown longer, although not as long as yours, and laid pin straight against his back. The black eyepatch he wore made him look almost forbidden. It made him look dangerous. But your Aemond was not a dangerous boy. But then again - this was not him.

Your Aemond used to read in books, spend his days learning, dreaming and talking about Dragons. Teaching you about them. This Aemond looked like he was ready - had dreamed and talked about feeding you to them.

The Queen's eyes held a little bit more warmth when she met your gaze. Sometimes she thought you looked more like her daughter than Rhaenryas but then again, your eyes held the same fire as your mothers.

The reason for your visit was a sad one, sure, who would be the heir of driftmark was important, not for you, but for your boys. You would be married off, no matter what Daemon claimed, if an alliance with House Winterfell was needed, Cregan would be the first to take your hand. You liked him. He was a kind man. A strong one too, but your relationship held no meaning, no feelings, no friendship.

Standing with your shoulders straight and your chin held high, you listened to Vaemond.”Don´t you dare tell me, who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.” You could see the rage forming in his eyes. “Allow it?”, your sick grandfather questioned. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The first time you flinched, was when he raised his voice, pointing at Lucerys. “That- is no true Velaryon- and certainly no nephew of mine.”

Your mother tried calming the situation, after quickly looking at her only daughter. “Go to your chambers, you have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my trueborn grandson.”

“You may run your house as you see fit. but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the doom.”

You really wished for someone to hold your hand. Stand in front of you, protect you from the eyes in the room that bore into your golden skin, but there was just your family and you in your flame red dress.

“And a thousand trigulatons besides.”. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this -”

You and your little brother were similar in some ways, in ways like anxious behavior. In ways like his hands trembling just as much as yours behind his back. “Say it.”, whispered Daemon, making your knees feel weak for what was about to come. You were no fighter. No ruler. Just a woman. And a brutally soft one too. “Her children are Bastards!!”Vaemond yelled into the room, at the king, making you slightly flinch at the sudden loudness of his voice.

“And she, and her daughter, are whores.”

Your eyes widened, while people let out gasps. Insulting your mother, married and with children was one thing, insulting you, a girl who had not even earned a kiss to her cheek yet, was something entirely else. You were not even promised yet.

Unknown to you, Aemonds eye had locked onto your form the moment Vaemond stepped closer to you. His gasp was a short one, a quiet too, but he could not believe someone dared insulting you. Yes, you may have shared the features of your brothers, even though you were much more beautiful to him, but your eyes were the purest purple he had seen in his house. There was no way someone could doubt where you belonged.

In his opinion, you would always belong right next to him. He wished he could have shielded you from harsh words and glances, but he could not forget who you stood next to, the boy who took his eye and the woman who wanted the throne.

His fists clenched behind his back, he watched his father stand up, heavy breathing. “I- will have your tongue for that.”

You had heard Daemon lifting his sword, and you had seen it from the corner of your eye, but still you did not stop looking at anything but Haelenas dress. His blood flooded in front of your feet. “He can keep his tongue.” Daemon shot you a look. Looking for tears on your face as usual, but no, you seemed to be somewhere else.

Aemond looked at his uncle with appreciation. He wished he would be bold enough, could show his care for you openly enough to chop a head off, but he couldn't have done it yet, not in front of everyone else at least.

Part 3

2K notes · View notes

bl00dlight · 10 months ago

Text

This is how yall bitches got me feeling trying to find good in character Aemond fics in a sea of out of characrer Aemond x mary sue OC Strong neice smut..........we are tired...

#hotd #daenerys targaryen #targaryen #got #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x strong niece #if i see one more fic where its that fake ass enemies to lovers trope...#he is evil #make him evil and mean #stop uwuing him #he should fucking hate you #self inserts are rotting my brain.

122 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 8 months ago

Text

To please, to serve (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, oral sex, smut, fingering, the angst, degradation, role play, dirty talk ]

[ description: During a meeting of the Small Council, Aemond learns that his wife is feeling unwell. Fearing that these are symptoms of another pregnancy, he abandons his daily routine and visits her in their chamber. To his surprise, he does not find her there, but someone else. Sexual tension, dark, loving, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. This oneshot takes place several years after the events of that storyline and can be read as a standalone story. I just came up with this idea and decided that's it, I have to write it. Ehhhhh.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Where is the Queen Regent?" He asked impatiently, surprised that, although it was not her custom, she was late for the Small Council meeting. One of the guards bowed his head and shifted from foot to foot.

"The Queen Regent requests that the meeting be held without her today, as she has been feeling unwell, Your Grace." He said.

He pressed his lips together at his words, driving his fingernail into the skin of his second finger at the thought that his wife was perhaps expecting his child again.

Seventh, he thought in disbelief, staring dully ahead.

That would be the seventh.

As many as she had promised him.

And what would happen next?

He tried to focus on the meeting and what each person was saying, however, he knew that he was involuntarily pushing for it to end as soon as possible.

Once everything was settled, he approached the Grand Maester, wanting to know what the situation was.

"Do you know anything about my wife's condition?" He asked coolly, frustrated by the possibility that he might have withheld such important information from him for some reason.

The man shook his head.

"No, Your Grace. I am surprised myself. The Queen Regent has not summoned me, so it is possible that her frail condition is due to some other cause." He said, making him feel discomfort in his stomach.

Although he always took part in sparring after the meeting, wishing to remain as skilled and agile in sword fight as he had been in all the years he had been king by his wife's side, this time he headed for their chamber.

When he stepped inside, he did not see her where he expected her to be, which was in their bed. He looked around the room, tense, the servant standing next to him bowed humbly.

"Where is my wife?" He asked, approaching the window overlooking the courtyard, thinking he might perhaps catch a glimpse of her walking between the cloisters.

"The Queen has left, Your Grace." The girl answered him. He furrowed his brow as her voice seemed familiar to him, but he wasn't sure why.

"Where to?" He asked, walking over to his desk to pour himself some wine and quench his thirst.

"She didn't say, Your Grace."

"You may leave." He replied, taking a few deep sips from his goblet deciding that she was probably hiding in the library for some reason. He set his goblet aside, impatient to hear that the girl had not moved from her place.

"Did I express myself unclearly?" He asked, turning to face her and froze, unsure if he had seen correctly or if he was slowly beginning to slip into madness from exhaustion.

The girl standing on the other side of his chamber looked at him before their gazes met, however, she lowered her eyes meekly to the floor when she sensed his surprise and frustration.

She had his wife's face, his wife's figure, his wife's voice but she wasn't dressed like her – her hair was pinned up in a braid around her head, her attire simple, consisting of a long-sleeved red bottom garment and a linen top gown belted at the waist.

"What?" He asked more to himself than to her, looking at her with wide eye.

"The Queen is not here, Your Grace." She said, looking at him again, something in her gaze from which he felt heat in his lower abdomen.

Her gaze was bright, piercing, familiar, but terrified at the same time.

Was it possible that a woman so confusingly similar to his wife had served in the Red Keep?

He swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in his throat, so he reached for his cup again and took a sip from it, looking at her intently.

"Have you been serving here for long?"

"For a few days."

"Mmm."

Perhaps that's why she doesn't know all the rules of good manners yet, he thought.

"If I say you may leave, then you are expected to leave."

She lowered her gaze and did something that betrayed her: her hands entwined with each other as she began to play with her fingers in a gesture of discomfort that he knew all too well.

Fuck.

It was her.

"The whole kingdom speaks of the affection you have for her, Your Grace. About the fact that she has already given you six children, although she is still so young. Perhaps she should rest from this duty." She whispered, looking down at her hands, not daring to look at him.

He pressed his lips together, wondering if she was implying something.

Was she tired of him and carrying his offspring in her womb.

"I could have your head for this insolence." He said, intrigued by what she was trying to achieve, what her plan was.

"You could have something else. While she rests." She confessed finally, the gaze of her bright eyes surrounded by dark lashes lifted to him.

He felt a shudder at her words, at the realisation of what she was suggesting, what she was aiming for, and his cock expressed a desire to participate in her idea, pulsing greedily in his breeches.

"Indeed?" He murmured, raising his cup to his lips, sipping the remainder of the wine from it, not taking his eye off her with a mischievous look.

She did not reply, standing still, her lips parted in an accelerated breath betraying that she was aroused.

"Very well. Come here." He said, stepping around his desks and spreading out comfortably in his chair, looking up at her from below. He set his cup down on the table as she approached him slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Kneel." He ordered.

She swallowed loudly and obediently sat on her knees between his legs, not daring to look at his face. He licked his lower lip involuntarily as he undid the buckles of his tunic with his long fingers, only to immediately slide them down to the fabric of his breeches, untying them with an agile flick of his wrist.

"Don't delude yourself into thinking I'll treat you like my wife. You don't deserve it." He scoffed in a trembling voice, feeling the chill of the chamber envelope his swollen erection, leaking with desire. Her gaze lifted to his manhood as she nodded, moving closer, the look of her innocent eyes rising to his face in anticipation.

"Open." He said, grabbing the base of his swollen cock, directing the throbbing, pink, wet head of it to her face.

Her lips parted in an obedient gesture as she leaned forward, her hands clenched on her lap. He tilted his head back, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart as her puffy lips slid its tip into her warm interior, her tongue giving him one encouraging, gentle lick.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, clamping his free hand in her hair, forcing her to take it all the way in, the head of his manhood bumping against the back of her throat with her quiet moan of discomfort.

She knew him too well, knew what drove him mad, what touch and where drove him to the brink of insanity.

"– quiet – you wanted it yourself – now suck like a good girl –" He gasped, watching with a wide grin as the fullest part of his manhood disappeared again and again deep between her lips with the quiet clicks of her saliva.

He squeezed himself tighter at the base, trying to find a rhythm with her, involuntarily rolling his hips back and forth, each time making her almost choke, tears of exertion running down her face one after the other.

"– only my wife deserves to swallow my seed – maybe I should come on your face? – hm? – would you enjoy that? –" He sneered, and she shook her head quickly and cried out, looking up at him with big eyes full of tears, whimpering as he quickened his pace suddenly, disappearing again and again deep into her throat.

Her beautiful face was all rosy with exertion, droplets of sweat on her cheeks and forehead, unruly strands of her dark hair stuck to her skin.

So pretty.

"– no? – then how about your tits – show me your breasts –" He exhaled, sliding out from between her lips to avoid coming too soon, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from this unusual act of their marital intimacy.

His wife drew in a loud breath, wiping her cheeks wet with tears, and reached up to untie her dress at the back, blindly undoing it. She looked at him with a look he knew perfectly well when she finally slipped the bright and red material off, showing him one of his favourite parts of her body.

She was so fucking wet, he knew it.

"– go on – I didn't let you stop –" He said coldly, and she leaned over him again, taking his fat erection between her lips with such commitment that he groaned, biting his lower lip so hard that he could feel the blood under his tongue.

"– good girl – just like that – fucking serve your King –" He growled, clenching his fingers in her hair, allowing her small hand to caress what was not fitting deep in her throat imposing a fierce, aggressive pace on her. She cried out loudly, clearly not able to keep up with taking a breath, making him stop in half-motion.

"– too much? –" He mumbled, stepping out of his role for a moment, but she shook her head, looking at him with affection.

He stroked her hair, his fingers sliding down to her face, his thumb running over the hot, moist skin of her cheek – her murmur of satisfaction ran in vibration through his erection, making him pulse hard between her lips.

"– just a little more – your King is satisfied and about to come – hm? –" He cooed, and she nodded, letting him do what he wanted with her mouth, thrusting his long manhood into her again and again with the greedy, deep stabs of his hips.

The warmth of her mouth, her tongue that ran over the soft skin of his erection swollen from his veins, her lips that clamped again and again on the thick head of it made him close his eyes, losing the urge to pull it out of her.

"– I changed my – f-fuck – fuck, gods, swallow –" He gasped out, panting heavily with pleasure, tilting his head back, feeling his cock begin to throb all over in elation, his wife whimpered when suddenly his spend spilled deep down her throat.

He looked at her with dreamy eyes, breathing through his parted lips, stroking her head, listening to the quiet sound of swallowing.

"– that's it – easy – you did well –" He praised her, and she took a heavy breath as he finally let her go, sliding his erection out from between her sweet lips with a loud slap.

She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his thigh, embracing it with her arms, trying to calm down after what she had done. His fingers roamed through her hair, his gaze fixed on her full of curiosity.

"– come here –" He murmured.

She looked at him sleepily and lifted herself up on trembling legs, however, to her surprise, he didn't let her sit on top of him with her arms around him, but turned her so that she was resting her back against his chest.

They both sighed, and her legs spread involuntarily to the sides as his broad hand rolled up the material of her gown, exposing her thighs, slipping under her smallclothes. While there his fingers sank into her silky, leaking folds, the fingers of his other hand embraced her neck, making her moan softly, tilting her head back.

"– only my wife deserves to be fulfilled – so how will it be? –" He whispered in her ear, placing hot, loud, sticky kisses on her red, welted sweaty cheek – her hand involuntarily wrapped around his arm while the other reached back into his hair for balance.

"– please, my King –" She mumbled pleadingly.

"– tsk-tsk – not like that –" He gasped, teasing her little spongy bud with his fingertip, playing with it gently, his other fingers trailing over her throbbing, moist slit.

"– ah – gods – Aemond –" She sighed, bucking her hips to the rhythm of his strokes, his fingers clenching warningly around her neck.

"– call me right or I'll tease this little cunt all night long, but you won't experience fulfillment, sweet girl –" He said warningly and felt her swallow loudly under his fingers, his hand between her thighs all slick with her sticky wetness.

"– husband – please, husband, please, please, please – ah! –" She mewled, clenching her hand in his hair as his two fingers burst into her hot, fleshy interior, pressing the spot hidden between her muscles from which she could see stars, while his thumb teased her pearl from the outside in circular, gentle strokes.

"– good girl – fuck yourself with my fingers – only my wife can use me for her own pleasure –" He gasped, watching with satisfaction as with a cry of pleasure she fell apart in front of him, reaching her peak – his hand from her neck clamped down on her breast, all swollen with milk, feeling her weeping cunt squeeze his fingers again and again, sucking them inside.

His once again hard erection pushed against her buttocks, delighted by what he had just witnessed.

Her hands closed around his, making sure he didn't let go of either her hot, leaking womanhood or her soft, plump breast.

"– what unusual idea did you come up with, hm? – is that the reason for your non-attendance at the Small Council? –" He sneered, placing tender, lazy, sticky kisses on her neck and cheek.

"– I've been thinking about it for a while – what it would feel like – and have you ever had fantasies of doing this to a servant –" She muttered, breathing heavily through her mouth, looking at him curiously.

He snorted under his breath and shook his head, sighing contentedly, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with her.

"– I didn't feel the need for it until it turned out that you could be one – I'm afraid it's not a question of role but of your pretty face – those big eyes of yours –" He murmured, grabbing her chin, turning her head so that she could look at him. She giggled sweetly at his words, her eyes lit up with joy and warmth from which he felt heat in his chest, a feeling he only experienced in her presence.

He hummed under his breath, pressing his forehead against hers, smiling in a way that was meant only for her.

For his wife.

"– if you wish, we can satisfy each other in this way, if you need to rest for a time from bearing me children – you have given me as many as six –" He said softly, wanting her to know that her sacrifice for their lineage, for the kingdom and for him was precious to him, and he held his gratitude for her deep in his heart.

She blinked and smiled comfortingly at his words, her fingers running over his cheek.

"– since Daeron was born, the deliveries have become easier for me – they're shorter each time, I already know exactly what awaits me – I promised you one more, didn't I? –" She whispered, and he nodded.

"– and then? –"

"– hm? –"

"– when you give birth to our seventh child – what will happen after that? –" He asked, and she amazed him by bursting out laughing.

"– it will be surely followed by another – as long as my flower does not wither –" She said, resting her head on his shoulder. He put his hands around her breasts, not wanting her to get cold, thoughtful.

"– our children already think there are too many of them –" He sighed and heard her snort at his words, amused.

"– they will be able to speak on the matter when they become parents themselves –" She replied, looking up at him, placing her hands on his. He kissed her temple and nuzzled his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, imagining how many more children she would bear him.

"– let's take a bath, wife –"

780 notes · View notes

bananabeatbox4 · 6 months ago

Text

Princess Lucerys Velaryon

95 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 17 days ago

Text

House of the dragon masterlist

Aemond targaryen

His sapphire princess (slow updates )

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra finds her self with child, A girl who will forever change the history of westeros

My lady strong (slow updates )

The second born, A bastard, a dreamer with fire in her veins, and a girl forced into the dance of dragons

two halves of a whole - one shot

Aegon Targaryen II

The spoils of war - one shot

Being a woman on the loosing side of a war was never a good thing. And when you are the only daughter of the looser it can mean one of two things, either death or marriage, and for lucky for y/n, Aegon was in need of a wife.

Agape - one shot

Agape love is defined as being unconcerned with the self and concerned with the greatest good of another. Agape love isn't born just out of emotions, feelings, familiarity, or attraction but from the will and as a choice. Agape requires faithfulness, commitment, and sacrifice without expecting anything in return

Jacaerys Veleryon

Solace - one shot

As the daughter of Alicent Hightower you had been fed stories of your older sister and her children, so when you are bethrothed to Jacaerys you arent too sure as to what to expect, and go into your courtship expecting the worse, only to find out you couldn't have been more wrong.

Why don’t i show you - one shot

when you come to westeros to arrange your sisters marriage in an alliance with westeros you find there customs to be anything but acceptable and start to question the need for an alliance, it takes jace to show you why an alliance is needed.

you belong with me - one shot

you and jace were childhood friends, you never left eachothers side growing up, but that all changed once you both went off to university.

seduction - one shot

you had always longed to be queen but with your brother Aegon married to your twin sister you had lost hope, but upon your nephews return to the keep you realise all hope of being queen isn't lost. there was just one problem: your mother would never agree to marriage between you and Jace. So you set in motion a plan of seduction.

red - one shot

you are a priestess of R'hollor, sent to dragonstone to assure the bloodline of the prince who was promised. And though you are welcomed by the queen, prince Jacaerys only looks at you with trempidation, seeing your place at his mothers side to be some ploy. But luckily for you there is always a way for the red priesstes to sawy others to their cause.

My sweet pathetic prince- one shot

Jace had always had a pathetic obsession with is aunt, but she was never afraid to show her dislike for him and his heritage, even when his head was between her thighs.

his - one shot

when a rumour reaches Jace that you are to marry another man, he makes sure to show you that your are his.

will you fall in love with me again - series, coming soon

And arranged marriage designed to bring together the branches of the family and stop and impending war. But with the love that blossoms and the war still blooms the couple are forced to face the brunt of the wars consquences.

Heleana Targaryen

Butterfly Kisses - one shot

Heleana has always had a special bond with her maid.

Cregan Stark

The Dragon and the Wolf (complete)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

Gwayne Hightower

High Infidelity - one shot

scorned and betrayed by your husband, you find solace in the arms of his uncle.

To Gwayne, with love - one shot

tired of being ingored and undervalued, you take your dragon and leave to find the one person who sees you for who you really are; your uncle, Gwayne Hightower.

Bittersweet- one shot

married to Gwayne Hightower in some deludied attempt to resolve tensions between your family, when his loyalty is made clear you flee to your mother, feeling only bittersweet as you think of your husband.

Benjicot Blackwood (fan!cast)

forbidden - one shot

With a feud older than history, the Blackwoods and Brackens have long been enemies, but now, you, a daughter of lord Bracken, finds yourself in the arms of Benjicot Blackwood, and he will do everyhting it takes to make you his.

navigation

155 notes · View notes

ficeacs · 5 months ago

Text

Dragons Fight, Little Light (Chapter 2)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC Synopsis: Dragons never apologize for their rashness until they hurt a fellow dragon as well. Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Violence, Targcest, Begins with HOTD S1, Not Proofread Word Count: 3,756 Previous Chapter

The day his family had dreaded finally came. The day of Rhaenyra’s return along with her bastard kin. Aemond watched as their dragons, all five of them, danced upon the skies of Kingslanding. One yellow, one red, one green, and two white. One bigger and mightier than the other. He was once again subjected to this… pestering feeling of rage. Rage that he never knew to handle. Aemond felt his scar heat and throb. Throb harder than it ever did before. The prince clenched his fists and headed toward the tiltyard for his daily training.

Aemond battled with Ser Criston Cole, as he did every day. Morningstar against sword and shield. A knight against a prince. He knew the pattern of Criston’s advances by heart; he would have to admit that most days, he was growing greatly tired of the same sparing styles that the knight had to offer. As the prince readied himself for another round, he caught sight of two boys in Harrenhal blue. The prince grinned. Today, they shall see how great of a warrior he was. As he battled with Criston, he made sure to display his skills, besting the knight. He glimpsed upon the two boys to see if they were truly watching; they were. There was a silent look of awe in the two princes that the Aemond relished upon. Another hit from Cole was blocked, and Aemond turned to the princes once more but saw their attentions were no longer in the fight. “That was in Dragonstone; I am completely behaved here. It is you two who had unending squabbles with our uncles.” He heard the voice of his niece through the chatter of the crowd. His eye was fixated on the girl who was partially covered by her brothers. Dark hair fluttered along with the breeze, and even darker eyes rolled at whatever her brother said.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” The prince said as the knight complimented him, though it was mostly a complement to himself. He was the one to train Aemond in the ways of a warrior. The prince’s eye returned to where the three stood. Two boys in blue, one girl in scarlet. The prince watched as pink lips spoke once more. “Let us go; the smell of sweat unsettles me,” she complained, and the prince wanted to scoff at her bellyaching. His eye traced her face. Plain, she is plain. Aemond reminded himself, words that his mother often said. Though even he could not lie to himself anymore. Anyone who could see Rhaenyra’s only daughter cannot say she is plain. Upturned obsidian eyes, a snub nose, and round pink lips. She had inherited naught of her mother’s features but mostly her true father’s.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” The prince called out and twisted the sword in his hand. He smirked at the look of distaste his niece displayed when her dark eyes finally landed on him. When Vaemond arrived and took the three’s attention, his gaze traveled the girl’s frame. She was shapely, almost… plump. “Now can we go?” The prince heard her ask. “Not so fast,” He quickly said, gaining their attention once more. “You still have not greeted your uncle. Has your stay in Dragonstone made you so impolite?” She made no expression. “Hello, Uncle,” Was all she said. The amused smirk faded from the silver prince’s lips as he watched Eraena ascend the stairs and leave the tiltyard. Aemond was the prince of the realm; he was her elder, yet she greeted him like any common born. No regard, no curtsies or nods. Disrespectful Bastard. The prince thought.

When the day of the trial came, Aemond stood stoically with his siblings. Everyone was present, apart from the tardy twins who hurriedly made their way to their mother’s side. Aemond watched with a hard disposition at how cavalier the girl was, striding onto the throne room late with no regard for propriety. “Gods,” Aemond heard his brother say under his breath. “Eraena has certainly grown.” His brother said amused by the princess who stood a few yard lengths from them. Aemond knew of the tone in his brother’s voice, and in this instance, he could understand him. Eraena looked annoyingly breathtaking. The rubies in her hair resembled the conqueror’s crown. She may not be a true born, but now, she looked the part.

Plain, she is plain. Aemond reminded himself. Trying not to grow distracted by her. “How can Rhaenyra let her daughter wear such a dress,” Aemond heard his mother scoff. “She looks pretty,” Helaena interjected. “That she does,” Aegon agreed, and his brother cringed as he licked his lips, his eyes not leaving the princess. Aemond finally pulled his gaze from the girl and focused on the trial. The prince was growing bored with each passing moment that the succession of Driftmark was discussed. However, watching as Daemon cut through Vaemond’s head with the use of dark sister was like a reward after the dull hours had passed. The prince heard a gasp to his left and saw Eraena’s shocked form turn and hide at her brother’s side. Weak Bastard. The prince thought.

At supper, Aemond grew bothered by the sappy exchanges of empty words between the family members. What he was bothered most by was the smile on Eraena’s lips, as if she would actually believe that their family would grow closer once more after just one measly dinner. Of course, he had to prove the girl wrong and idiotic by the idea of it. It was so easy to bait Jacaerys; he laughed as the boy practically threw all his might into his punch that barely phased the one-eyed prince. What he did not expect was for Jacaerys’ twin to join the ruckus, able to inflict such pain on his brother. After supper, their mother summoned him and Aegon to her chambers.

“Why would you do such a thing, Aemond?” The queen asked as she paced around the room. The prince shrugged, “You seem to forget that it was Jacaerys who had thrown the first punch.” The prince defended. “Because you insulted him and his siblings,” Aegon’s groan sounded out, and his brother turned to him. The elder prince clutched his cock in pain, and Aemond could not help but smirk. “What I said was the truth, Mother,” Alicent shook her head. “You will apologize, Aemond.” The queen instructed her second son, “You as well, Aegon.”

“For what? Not letting Eraena have another go at maiming my cock?” Aemond’s smirk grew at the look of pain in his brother. “No, for the vile things you insisted on saying in her presence!” Aemond shook his head. “You cannot make us apologize to bastards, Mother.” The prince did not wait for his mother’s reply; he simply sauntered out of her chambers. Though he finds Aegon’s pain amusing, he cannot believe that the princess would subject herself to a fight. Violent Bastard. The prince thought.

When Eraena and his sister joined him to sit with the twins, his heart filled with jealousy as his niece and nephew hurriedly favored the newly arrived princess. Were his sister’s children so easily swayed by a pretty face and wooden figurines? He watched as Eraena gently brushed away the children’s hair from their eyes and how Jaehaera clung to the girl. He wanted to smirk as the little princess yanked the girl’s pendant, but the prince grew distracted not by the necklace but by the low neckline of her dress. How can Jacaerys let his sister wear such a dress? It was not completely revealing; it was more of a…a tease. His eye went to the emerald pendant that the girl handed to the younger princess. His eye then moved to the shining rope on her waist, and he froze. A belt of precious gemstones. A belt of sapphires. He wanted to scoff at her extravagance, remembering the gold thread that adorned her dress the other day and the pearl lining of the other. Spoiled Bastard. The prince thought.

When the prince was in the pits, checking upon Dreamfyre as his sister had requested. He had not expected to hear the voice of his niece echoing through the dome. “Why are you here? Vhagar does not even fit here.” Aemond started to grow annoyed by her, and at the same time, he could not make himself leave the pits. He did not know what possessed him to follow the girl who uncaringly entered the den of dragons without light. Was she so careless? “Hello, my love!” Aemond’s brows furrowed as to how Eraena addressed her dragon; he watched steely-eyed as the girl skipped to her dragon, placing a kiss on its snout. It was the first time he had seen Alina fully grown. She was more than half the size of his Vhagar; it surprised him that the dragon had fit into the pits. Alina stared him down, its eyes had a remarkable likeness to its rider, obsidian eyes staring down at him.

“It would seem you agitate my dragon, uncle,” Eraena’s voice rang out, Aemond’s gaze still on the pearly white dragon who shined gold where the light had hit. Is that why she likes pearls and gold? Because it reminds her of her dragon? Aemond frowned to himself and shook his head to get rid of the odd question. “Do not mind the small man, Alina,” Aemond’s frown deepened as he heard her speak in an ancient tongue. He gritted his teeth as he watched Eraena fly away with her dragon. He had not even realized that he had joined the princess in the skies. He smirked as he watched the girl try to be free of him and his mighty dragon until, finally, she gave up and landed back in the pits. Cowardly Bastard. The prince thought.

When supper came that night, Aemond could not help but be bothered by his encounter with his niece at the library. That is not a jape; that is how war starts, Aemond. The prince recalled her words; how dramatic was she? He had to admit that that chase was perhaps the most entertaining he had had in a while, and it was unfortunately cut short due to his sensitive and cowardly niece. However, he did find an odd familiarity and a sense of nostalgia with Eraena. The past nine years had brought forth change in all of them— in their outward appearances and their inward disposition, but he had noted that Eraena was still the girl he had known before.

Aemond always knew her as a bastard who tried her best to pretend she was not. Ever since then, she tried earnestly to appear as the ‘perfect princess’, and in a way, she would succeed. Presenting her best foot forward when in the eyes of the court, always prim and proper, but Aemond knew that deep inside, there was fire burning recklessly in her— a fire that was inherent in their blood, but she tried to diminish.

“It is not wise to lurk these halls at night,” Aemond drawled as he purposefully waited for the girl in the dark. “I am not one to lurk, uncle; that is your specialty if I remember correctly.” Eraena sighed, her tone laced with indifference. The prince’s jaw ticked at her tone. How could she be so obliging and enthusiastic in Aegon’s presence yet be so disinterested in him? He recalled how she did not even recoil when she placed her touch upon his brother’s back, yet somehow be so disgusted when Aemond had sat with her in the library earlier that day.

Aemond had not even realized that their conversation was quick to turn into an argument—an argument that had erased all of Aemond’s manners and sensibilities. His irritation had gotten the best of him, and he had resorted to what he knew best: violence.

The prince recoiled in guilt, his mind filled with tear-brimmed obsidian eyes looking at him with horror. The image haunted him in the night and even in broad daylight. He… did not know what he had done or why he had done such actions. “Have you seen Eraena?” His sister’s soft voice asked as she entered their mother’s chambers, where luncheon was held for the queen and all her children. With the mention of the princess he had hurt, his heart dropped. He had expected that Daemon Targaryen would have come for his head in the dead of the night. Vaemond’s head was cut from him with just a few vile words uttered to his wife; what else would he do when he found that Aemond had laid a hand on his daughter?

“I cannot say I have,” The queen replied as Helaena took her seat. “I— I had wished to have tea with her once more.” The silver princess mumbled. “She was not with her brothers or sisters,” Aegon said, and Aemond raised his brow. Was he observing others now? He was usually too drunk to notice anything. “Perhaps you’ll see the princess at supper; we are all to attend, understood?” The queen gave no room for her children to back away from another obligatory dinner for their decaying father to enjoy the image of a complete family.

“A—Aemond,” Eraena’s desperate voice echoed through his mind. The prince froze from his sparring with Criston as the image of her clawing at his hand flashed before him. The boy took a look at his shaking hand. “What happened there?” Criston asked as he saw the scratches that Eraena had made. “Nothing,” the prince said quickly, hid his hand from the knight’s view, and continued to train.

“Have you seen sister? She has not left her room the whole day,” The prince heard the worried voice of Lucerys from the side. “I heard her handmaid tell Mother that she did not feel well,” Jacaerys shrugged and inspected a blade. “Will she be able to join the hunt tomorrow?” “I should hope so,” The prince shook his, trying to get rid of the image of a fear-struck princess. What transpired last night was not entirely his fault! Eraena was the one to spew the insult; he was defending himself. Defending yourself from what? A small girl who only had words for weapons? His mind countered and he was finding scarce reason to defend himself.

When it was time for supper, the seat next to him remained empty. “Where is Princess Eraena?” His mother asked. “My daughter has not felt well the entire day, we thought it best she should stay in her chambers and rest in order for her to join tomorrow’s festivities,” Rhaenyra answered. Aemond’s eye flashed toward the girl’s sisters, who gave each other knowing looks. Do they know? The prince thought. If they knew, surely they would have told their father by now. The only thing that indicated Eraena had not said a thing was that Aemond still held his life. That night, alike the previous night, guilt gnawed at the prince. You must apologize! His conscience screamed the obvious. Should he head to the east wing, knock upon her chamber door, and ask the girl for her forgiveness at this instant? The prince laid still and made no such movement to apologize, but even in sleep, the fear-filled obsidian eyes still haunted him.

The day of the hunt came. Each member of the royal family was present, even the decaying king. Aemond stood by one side of the tent, and his lone eye searched for a girl with dark brown locks. “Joff, no more cake!” He heard a scolding voice to his left and finally saw the girl trying to pry away a platter of cake from her younger brother. A lilac eye flew to the girl’s neck, and she grimaced at the sight. She had done well to mask it, but Aemond could see through the cracks the imprint his hand had left. Why had she not told on me? He thought. The prince caught Eraena’s eyes; he felt sick of himself when he saw the same fear in her obsidian orbs. Like always, Eraena quickly looked away from him. Hurriedly stepping out of the tent, letting her brother have his cake.

Aemond sighed, and before he even realized it, he had followed the girl out. His eye watched as Eraena took shadowed paths away from the tent. “Aemond,” the hand called out. “Where is your brother?” He asked, and the prince shrugged. “Most probably getting drunk in the corner.” He said and returned his eye to the girl who ventured farther away from where he stood. “Keep a close eye on him, or better yet, accompany him and make sure he does not drown in his cups once more.” Aemond clenched his jaw. Is this his permanent role in this family? Having been the one to save Aegon from his cups and whores? He gave a curt nod and his grandfather gave him a clap on the back before leaving.

His eye searched for his brother, and he was quick to spot silver hair next to dark ones. An impish smirk on his brother’s lips. Aemond took long strides towards the two, as per his grandfather’s command, to watch over his drunkard brother. When he neared, his brows furrowed as he heard a laugh coming from Eraena’s lips. How did Aegon manage to make her laugh? “Ah, brother,” the eldest prince greeted, and almost immediately, the mirth in Eraena left. Eyes shifted to avoid him, “I—I should find my sisters,” the girl mumbled and quickly stepped away from her two uncles. Aegon stared at the departing girl with a frown. “What is it?” He asked, “Grandfather told me to watch you,” he said. “As if I am a child,” Aegon rolled his eyes and walked with his brother. “You certainly act like one,”

The elder prince scoffed. “A child does not fuck and drink as I do,” he replied. “That is not something to boast about, brother.” Aemond’s voice was hard and cold, just like it always was. They had walked around the camp, Aemond counting as to how many cups his brother had, it was now seven. When they arrived back at the tent, their sister was accompanied by the three daughters of Daemon Targaryen, a rare smile on her lips. Most of the men had left in search of the stag. Aemond had no want to hunt for the creature, and his brother would rather stay in the comforts of the camp, surrounded by food, wine, shade, and pretty princesses.

Aemond’s eye trailed the dark-haired girl as she stood and headed to the tables of sweets. Eraena eyed the delicacies and spent a while trying to choose which one to take. That is when he realized that Aegon had moved from his side and strode over to the girl, cutting a piece of cream and berries cake. The frown on the one-eyed prince returned as the girl gave a small smile to his brother. He watched their interaction for a moment; the girl did not steal her eyes away from Aegon, no obvious sign of contempt on her face, and did not run when he neared. Did she like Aegon? His mind wondered. Why didn’t she think him vile? Why did she only hold contempt for him? Aegon did not almost strangle her to death. His mind reminded him.

Aemond made his way to stand with his brother once more. Gritting his teeth as the girl quickly left, Aegon turned to him with suspicion and accusation. “You’re scaring Eraena,” His brother observed, and Aemond scoffed. Cowardly Bastard. He thought once more, but this time, Eraena did have reason to fear him. “I do no such thing,” Aemond said, and his brother shook his head. “You clearly are… what have you done?” He asked. “You had clearly done something to have her bolt every time you come near.” “I have not done anything,” Aemond gritted out, eyes flying to the floor, a habit of his when he lies. “Hm,” his brother hummed.

After an uneventful hunt, they returned to the walls of the keep the following day. After another restless night with guilt eating away at him, Aemond had enough. The prince swallowed his pride and thought of ways to apologize to the princess. He skipped his training with Criston to create a plan to catch a fleeing princess. Aemond walked through the keep, hands folded behind him. Good ideas often came to him when he stalked the halls of the castle. He walked past the godswood, watching as the auburn leaves fell to the ground. The prince was ready to pass the tree and continue on his walk but froze when he caught the whiff of lavender in the air, and the low humming of a tune reached his ears.

Aemond focused upon the trunk of the Weirwood tree and saw purple skirts by its base. The prince took silent and cautious steps and saw as a princess rested her back against the tree, charcoal in her fingers and pieces of parchment on her lap. Upon feeling his presence, Eraena’s gaze turned to him. There it was again, the fear in her eyes. Eraena scrambled to gather her things and flee away. “Eraena, wait,” Aemond called out, but she was quick to flee from him. The prince sighed and pursued the girl, taking hold of her arm, a gentle hold.

Remorse filled Aemond as he had her near him. “I—“ Aemond began, but the words died on his lips. “I’m… I,” He tried once more, but he could not let the words pass. “Eraena? Aemond?” A questioning voice called, and the two turned to Daemon, making his way to where they stood. Eraena quickly took her arm away from the prince’s hold. Daemon looked at the prince with calculating eyes; he saw distress in obsidian orbs, however hard she tried to hide it. “I hope for your benefit that you are not disturbing my daughter,” the rogue prince told his nephew. “He—he’s not father,” Eraena quickly replied for the prince. Aemond’s dread and remorse deepened; he had hurt the girl, but why was she hiding and even defending him? You should be thankful. His mind scolded. Daemon looked unconvinced, but he nodded and offered his arm for his daughter to take. The one-eyed prince watched as the two departed, unable to say his apology to the princess.

152 notes · View notes