#aemond targaryen x tyrell!reader

[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part one

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part - you claim Balerion and emissaries are sent.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist: The Black Dread > > > next part, part two: read here

word count: 4.9k+

note: ALL characters are aged up - they are NOT minors

warnings: hair color specified reader but it's paramount to the story. Dance of the Dragons AU, Balerion lives AU - kinda heavy introduction. political manipulation, i guess no Baela, Rhaena or Alys romantic interests, ALL characters are aged 18 or older, Muses aren't in this part much, stolen Olenna Tyrell quote(s), Dylan Thomas quote.

though Balerion is not shown in the shows [HOTD or GOT], these are some of author's personal favorite fan art pieces: this this one, but maybe this color

Considering the climate, environment, elements, and location of each region with no true diverse distinction or transition between seasons, summers varied in each corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Notably, the mainland experienced vastly different summers in comparison to the constantly humid Westerosi islands.

This was expected.

Where the weather endured in King’s Landing is dry and stale - lacking cloud coverage, baking all forms of life under the unforgiving sun - Dorne was ideal: temperate, tropical, the temperature usually consistently comfortable.

Northwest of the continent, off the Westerlands coast in water of Ironman's Bay so dark, secrets remain hidden, summers on the ratified Iron Islands were cold due to the winds blowing from the North. The rocky region wet and slippery from rain; never humid, usually biting.

The Reach boasted pleasant summers; lush and green with fully bloomed gardens, perfectly balmy. The Stormlands lived up to its name and was plagued with frequent storms. These were usually warm rains - opposite the Iron Islands. The Crownland's annually hosted hordes of tourists at their ever popular summer attraction: temperate beaches. And why wouldn't they? The Crownlands's usually kept moderate temperatures and plenty of vast coastline to offer reprieve in the surf.

However, the only exception to sweltering, stereotypical climate that ransacks the Realm is the North - an expansive outlier. You see, in the North, summers are cold but winters are REALLY cold. From Bear Island to White Harbor, the dreary, overcast summer sky reflects on year-round, bright, pristine summer snow, making it glitter and blindingly glow. This results in the curation of a blue-grey filter naturally exclusive in the North.

However, tonight - You weren't ankle-deep in North summer snows. You weren't wheezing in King's Landing. You weren't vacationing in Dorne. You weren't sloshing through the Stormlands.

Tonight, you weren't on the mainland.

Tonight, you were on Dragonstone - ancestral home of your distant, estranged family.

Bullfrogs belted their croaky song, loud and incessant; as if trying to individually greet each twinkling star in the inky sky - the ever faithful audience; intrigued by this reckless and dangerous suicidal showdown you embarked on. Crickets chirped in a soprano choir; dotting around the maze of tide pools - cratered by the same porous, jagged, volcanic rock that defines the unpredictable, natural coastline. Frothing alto waves of dark navy, violent, salty sea brutally crashed against rock - the booming baseline of the frog's and cricket's private duet sang in perfect harmony.

All that was missing was a little red crab with a Jamaican accent encouraging you "kiss the girl".

Night had fallen. The winds were cold as a storm rumbled overhead. Rain fell sideways. Lightning streaked the skies.

You navigated through the dark - a slippery, dangerous feat.

Few windows of the castle gave a subtle, dim light; indicating the residents were more than likely turned in for the night. Still, despite the lack of patrolling guards and other witnesses, you remained in stealth mode. Only fools allowed themselves to feel cocky when their guards go down. When someone allowed their defenses to go down, mistakes are made, capture is imminent, the mission is a failure, and surrender to the enemy's mercy is forced.

Your presence on Dragonstone wasn't for romance - no girls (or boys) for you to kiss. This wasn't a social visit to recreationally mingle with the Velaryon Prince or Targaryen Princess Twins. You're not conducting research curriculum - no time to study flora, fauna, volcanic activity.

To the winged terrors, Dragonstone Island is a recognizable safe haven that promotes healing - the one place these miraculous beasts could relax, ease their defenses; be vulnerable with lowered guards. This sense of safety gives freedom away from the confines of Dragon Riders - simply allowed to be true, authentic, and animalistic.

Currently, a couple dragons sought refuge on the island, nesting, minding their own business; others sought rest, retirement, peaceful isolation. Several took advantage of the heat and loitered around the volcano, the Dragonmont.

They weren't just any dragons, some were rogue, wild; some released after captivity; all unclaimed, riderless. This tempted several persons to rely on arrogant luck and try their hand at harnessing the terrible beasties - but they never returned.

Summer days stretched long, giving limited time to move under the cover of darkness, and the nights progressively shortened each day leading up to the solstice. Your journey was miraculous, having never navigated open water before yet somehow arriving at Dragonstone after setting sail from King's Landing by yourself. Perhaps you had a hidden talent, a subconscious sailor mentality; maybe you were just lucky, or maybe your boiling emotions made you defiantly determined - running on pure spite to stay alive, unharmed, and without capsizing in an effort to complete your mission.

Most of the time, you relied more on logic than emotion, something that helped keep you balanced, grateful, rational. Leading with logic arguably "made" someone intelligent; solution oriented, stubborn, hardheaded, unwilling to compromise (a common foundation when leading with emotion).

Yet logic made you very black and white - no grey area. Logic is cut and dry. Logic is sometimes sophisticated. Logic is also stubborn. Logic abandoned empathy. Logic could be explained. Logic identified applicable reasonings and explanations. Logic is hard to argue against. Logic sustained battles of wit. Logic is sometimes discriminatory. Logic always tells the truth. Logic has limited loopholes.

Logic is fact driven, and when paired with your own rooted moral and religious beliefs, made you subconsciously judgmental.

There's a well-known proverb, quote, "it's not the destination, but the journey." Yet some philosophers think the destination is mundane, anticlimactic, boring, sometimes disappointing and unfulfilling while the journey is much more fulfilling. The journey is what's worth; an adventure, where development inflates, where a story worth telling lies.

Logic is the destination. Leading with emotion is the journey.

Leading with emotion develops thoughtful decisions. Emotions sharpen empathetic abilities. Emotions sometimes changes perspectives, broadens horizons. Emotions allow for differences in opinions. Emotions curates safety. Emotions heightens generosity. Emotions expands willingness to help. Emotions softens situations with compassion. Emotions often strides towards peace. Emotions structures harmony. Emotions accepts all. Emotions could be overwhelming. Emotions don't always have one, single, clear victor.

Leading with emotion makes you easily reactive, being why you made a conscious effort to engage logic; keeping yourself in check.

You often never lost your cool; always having a handle on things, but sometimes, it was a challenge. Emotions demand to be felt, and no matter how hard you train yourself and practice relying on logic, you were still human.

Both leading with logic and emotion made you passionate, sometimes synonymous with stubborn. Either way, you ended up here - on Dragonstone - slinking around in the dead of night as if a criminal on the run, trying to avoid the Rogue Prince's nefarious, outlandishly violent City Watch.

You were dedicated to the truth, hence your willingness to embark on this suicide mission. You know it's out there, becoming desperate to find it; never settling, fed the fuck up of mindless gossip the court whispered and hissed about. Enduring years of scrutiny and unfiltered rudeness made you confident, wanting, and energized to justify your claims, prove self-worth, assign relief, terminate turmoil, tension, and assumption.

Yeah, yeah, yeah - but what truth are you dedicated to? Your family's lineage and heritage, your birthrights, your position in society. Your contributing livelihood. They only thought you a young lady boasting the Tyrell surname - a broodmare to sell off. After Queen Rhaenyra proclaimed herself, you became incessant to prove you were so much more than a pretty fragile rose to be set in a vase.

Truth became your Eighth God; being a dedicated, loyal, trusting, worshipping follower. And the truth was, you're a Targaryen as much as a Tyrell, and by all means, had as much of a right to claim a dragon as any of the rest of them.

You refuse to take detours, cut corners, violate, or cheat to obtain your goal(s); arriving at your desired end result with integrity, completing your mission by barreling through obstacles with laser focus - like a predator stalking prey.

Boots slapped and clicked on wet rock, splashing in puddles, splattering mud up your legs to soak into your breeches. Heavy humidity - thick and muggy air - coated lungs and stuck in nostrils, being suffocatingly stuffy; breathing becoming difficult. You could physically feel the condensation in the air - hair adopting a mind of its own; beaded, clammy skin becoming uncomfortably sticky, palms slick with sweat. You missed the dry heat of the capital.

Dark hood of your cloak hid your vibrant hair; the material swishing, swirling airy fog low to the ground around your creeping form, creating an ominous energy. You half expected a ghost to appear at your flank.

The clanking of the night patrol's armor was heard first, alerting you to a diminishing window; sliding into the mouth of one of the dragon caves in time for the White Cloaks to stalk around the castle's perimeter walkway.

Even with thick rock cocooning your form, the rumbling of the nested dragon's slumber was heard; loose pebbles, dust and other debris showered from the cave ceiling. Despite the heat of the Dragonmont, you heard the slow echo of dripping water.

Your choice to come to Dragonstone, was it a logical decision? Or driven by emotions - fed up with the rumors, sneers, disrespect, critical judgement from everyone in King's Landing? ...yes.

Navigating a dragon lair was dangerous, but navigating a dragon lair with ZERO experience was an anticipated disaster. Surely, you must've lost your mind because no mentally stable person would dare step foot in this cave - let alone scale the depths in search of an ancient beast that could (and possibly wound) treat your charred body as a BBQ appetizer. With a gasp, you slipped on the rocks, hissing when the heels of your palms took the brunt end of impact and slit open; tiny pebbles sticking to your open flesh. You whimpered gently, jagged rocks digging into your knees as you cleared your hands and slowly found your feet.

Even with knowledge of your heritage, you hadn't grown around the scaly Targaryen counterparts like any and every other legitimate offspring. You were long divided from that side of your family, missing out on fascinating Valyrian traditional customs. It made you a slightly bitter.

No dragon egg in your crib. No hours-long practice in the Dragon Pit. No reptilian anatomy studies. No personalized leather saddle embellished with a three-headed dragon. No claim to ancestral privilege or birthright. No unique morality, nor holier than thou complex. No generational beast to inherit.

Skin free from the lingering, invasive, embedded stench of dragon hide.

You used to think learning Ancient Valyrian was a redundant waste of time, education, and resources. You were raised in the ancestral keep in the Reach's capital, Highgarden, under your father, Lord Tyrell, and his beloved wife - the Vanished Princess - which made this secret sleuthing harder to rationalize or explain, given no Targaryen ever lived in Highgarden. Never before were dragons hosted in The Reach, and therefor, a Dragon Pit was never erected.

So, you know how when you're a kid and see something at the store that you really want but your parent says no because you already have too much shit? They might've made their point by saying something, like, "Where do you think you're gonna put all that?"

Well, Highgarden is the toy box and you intend on bringing home one of those enormous stuffed animals won at a carnival / festival.

If anyone knew of this plan, they might've sent you to the medical institute the Citadel in Oldtown operates; involuntarily commit you to the structured research program that studies different mental and physical medical phenomenons.

Truth was, this wasn't even your idea. Your grandmother, who definitely either spent time in one of the Citadel's cells or should, encouraged you. Perhaps that should've been a red flag, but it was too late now, her words echoing in your mind ―

Be a dragon.

The gardens you walked through were in fragrant, full bloom; providing a sweet air to combat the foul words you admitted with your arm looped in your grandmother's. You paced evenly through the overgrown foliage, the bees buzzing to drown your words.

"Perhaps, something is wrong with me," you sulked, "because surely, it cannot be this difficult to find a match. It seems I need to lower my standards, I could not attract a decent man if I were covered in honey and he were a fly."

"Perhaps try covering yourself in shit, then," she advised with a knowing smirk.

"Grandmother."

"Well, it's curious, isn't it?" Celia asked.

"What is?"

"All your life, you've always been more Targaryen than Tyrell; fierce, loyal, impulsive, strong, enduring. Yet now, you return nothing more than a rose wilted from King's Landing's stench, moping about failed relations. Have you ever considered that simple men are incapable of supporting the love and marriage of a dragon?"

"Half blooded does not make me a dragon."

"No, but the spirit, wit, intelligence, spunk, ferocity, cunningness, and determination you display proves it." She paused your stroll, secluded canopy shroud by foliage to provide a moment of privacy.

"Not all would think so," you let your eyes roll.

"Who do you speak of?"

"Those who think I am lying about my own Targaryen parentage, citing the color of my hair as evidence. You would think I'm one of the Queen's sons, the way they whisper."

"Do not listen to busy mouths, sweet child, hair cannot be a sole indication of parentage. I know it's easy to cite, but not all descendants of Valyria have silver locks, and should anyone have anything to say, know they are merely bitter and jealous for your hair is the perfect blend of Tyrell auburn and Targaryen silver. A color that is hard to ignore."

"Yet it's not enough to prove myself to them, Grandmother."

Now Celia sounded determined but angry, "You are every bit Tyrell as you are Targaryen. While you might not appear to their biased eye, there's never been denial that you are made in your mother's fire. Pure blooded or not, you're a dragon, my sweet petal."

"So?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods - so, be a dragon! Dragons do not fret because men don't blink twice at them, they eat those men! Don't beg for approval; maintain your dignity, instill a new opinion, demand respect! Prove your strength, skill, and capabilities - everything the courts would deliberately overlook. Prove everyone wrong, offer contribution to this war, become a valuable asset who would be foolish to send away. Establish your seat at the table and never let anyone talk down on you again," your grandmother snarled with passion. "There's more than one way to prove you have the blood of the dragon."

"Such as? What would you have me do?"

"I hear rumor there remains a host of unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. The Queen's son and heir, Prince Jacaerys, has called for dragonseeds to try their hand - they need more dragonriders for their war. Claiming your birthright might be the fastest, easiest way to earn the Realm's approval; doubling as undisputed evidence of who you are."

"What a terrifying thought."

"But what a statement it would make," Celia's lips pulled in a smirk, wrinkles deeper, more prominent on sun-soaked, wrinkled skin. "Tyrells might be flowery, we might sigil a rose - but we are resilient and refuse to wilt; even in the heat of dragon fire. The Realm thinks Tyrells are only pretty faces; pretty flowers meant to be seen and never heard, whose sole purpose is to be left on display. Preconceived as uselessly inexperienced during wartimes; criminally green, pure, innocent - judgement that makes them shockingly unprepared for how deep our thorns prick." Both of Celia's hands grabbed yours, squeezing, advising, "Do not go quietly, my petal, make those who doubted you be haunted by their foolish choice to challenge the wrong woman. Let them seep in humiliation and regret their judgement. Allow your successful conquest to be the biggest 'fuck you' to prejudice, the final nail in any coffin of doubt. Toss your wilted rose of fear aside, petal, embrace the fire that burns in your veins; you are Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden, daughter of The Forgotten Princess, and you will not go gentle into that good night. You will be a dragon."

You were ensuring passage by morning light, intent to deliver yourself to Dragonstone.

Parts of the cave glittered with unharvested gems; a lost collection of rarities nobody dared pursue out of fear of the ancient, terrible Valyrian beasties that dwell in those caves. The walls sweat from combined dragon and volcanic heat, tunnels jagged and uneven; zero holes, cracks, or slits the sun could leak through (if it were up); everything terribly dark. At least there was a scattered pile of preprepared torches to light the way. A permanent odor of limestone and fractioned corpses assaulted your sinuses, dried puddles of blood seeped into rock, the scurrying critters who used dragons as hosts echoed with a twinkling charm - the least menacing reminder that you were not alone.

Claimed dragon chambers varied in size; pitstops along the winding pathways that ended at the largest chamber - a dead end. While other chambers were large enough for sometimes several dragons, this final stop could only be described as a jarring, stomach churning, hauntingly pitched ebony abyss of incalculable depth that played tricks on the mind. An abyss. It was like you were staring Death in the face and anxiety was dredged forth from white hot fear.

With a flickering torch alight in a trembling hand, you slowly stalked down the chiseled causeway that ended several lengths into the expansive, bleak nothingness. Pitch black shadows danced; the air felt electric, seemingly vibrating - alive and judgmental.

The glaring cavern besmirched your family name, hauntingly reminding that your disinheritance resulted in your late dragon bloom. The ebony airy sea identifies and heightens fearful insecurity about your estranged family's rejection, their lack of interest and care for your side of the family stinging; their rejection of familial relationships. The darkness predicted your failure, inability, and humiliation.

The cavern challenged your confidence and determination, your staked ownership and proclaimed lineage; labeling your bravery, beliefs and ambition as arrogant. It sneered about your stupidity, weakness, fear, and anxiety; belittled applied effort and desired goals; questioned your true desires and needs; tested your loyalty.

The cavern rejects any and all attempts before you could even try; unraveling your logic, shunning your emotions; proclaims reactive decisions as immature and lacking control, crowning you as dangerously naïve.

The cavern mocked your desperately pathetic need for station and acceptance; revoking and nullifying public (and private) ladyship, dubbing you unladylike - which, in itself, was insulting to your womanhood. Why do men get all the exciting adventure, but when a woman tries, she's crucified for being irresponsible? Smooth ebony waves reflected your maddening, constant effort and want for acknowledged contributions.

To the naked eye, the cavern appeared uninhabited, assuming the habitat was abandoned. The silence was eery; air buzzing with alarm, deceiving humans that attempted to see through the waves of darkness.

To a "true" Targaryen, this was just a sheet of camouflage the fire breathers wield for their privacy.

No wonder the Red Sowing was so... Bloody and devastating.

A growl was heard, something gravely and deep, intimidating and impressive. You frozen, eyes wide as if it would give you night vision, torch flickering, hands starting to shake. Then you saw prominent movement, lungs stalling and heart hammering. Slowly, a large, scaly, stained snout emerged at a sail's pace.

The more the beast stepped into your sight, your mind could only scream one thing - was coming face to face with a dragon logical or emotional? Because whether logical or emotional, this was a dumb fucking idea there was no turning back from.

So, you steeled yourself in position, dewy sweat lining your forehead to soak your hairline.

112 years After Conquest, dragons flew to war at the behest of the Targaryen family over Rhaenyra and her half-brother's claim to Aegon the Conqueror's Iron Throne. Sister-wife, Queen Visenya, rode Vhagar - said to have been the smallest dragon with bronze hide, yet, as rumor had it, still large enough that a horse could ride down her gullet. Sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys, rode Meraxes - who was larger; big enough to swallow horses whole with silver scales and golden eyes.

Then, The Conqueror, King Aegon Targaryen I, rode Balerion - the fiercest and largest, who’s wingspan could shadow entire towns, swords-long teeth assisting his ability to swallow mammoths whole, and who’s scales, wings, and fire were pitch black. Balerion was called the Black Dread and was so powerful, he could melt steel, stone, and fuse sand into glass. He never lost a battle - against human or dragon.

Balerion was also the dragon responsible for the Burning of Harrenhal, largest castle in Westeros.

In the year 2 BC, Aegon began his Conquest and engaged King Harren Hoare the Black in his keep, Harrenhal, who refused the Conqueror and was met with Balerion’s flames. In fire so hot, it melts stone like candles, the entire House Hoare was extinguished when Harren and his sons perished in the largest tower - later named Kingspyre Tower - though it’s said they haunt the Wailing Tower.

Since then, of Aegon's Three Dragons, only Meraxes boasted a single rider, but to be fair, in 10 AC, during the First Dornish War, allegedly, both Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes met their demise. Vhagar knew Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon, and Prince Aemond as riders. Balerion knew Maegor the Cruel, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys, who, in the year 94, retired The Black Dread - thinking the beast was nearing his end. The dragon outlived every single rider.

In the year 129, Viserys died and The Black Dread stared you in the eye; curating a vibrating rumble deep within his chest that made the darkness dance. It'd been decades since anyone dared face this terrible beastie, thinking he wasn't long for this world; the pair of you curious about the other, no moves made yet.

There was no backing down, there was no turning away. This is what you wanted, for Aegon the Conqueror's mount to see you as you are - worthy of your of blood. You refused to be told you did not deserve your lineage, the Targaryen name, you would not endure disrespect any longer! You would earn your place in this Godsforsaken family, earn station in this Godsforsaken world, or die trying...

That night, Balerion took to the skies again, doing several laps in the air, soaring over King's Landing to let the residents of the Realm know - he flew again.

Your father's family hailed from The Reach, specifically Highgarden; colorful, temperate, lush, bountiful, and abundant. Your family oversaw 75% of the country's sole wheat, barley, grain, and corn production, even germinating the country's most grand gardens - which decorated a rather generous estate.

Despite the vast, open lands, there had never been need for a dragonpit before, so, when you landed your mount, he was left exposed on the outskirts of the Keep. Considering he was the largest thing, you know, ever, Balerion seemed content out there - so, you didn't worry.

It was strange, however, to see anyone without white hair on dragonback. Even stranger to the Realm to learn of your accomplishment; adding fuel to several fires.

The Green King Aegon asked lazily, a hand waving in the air, "Who?"

His mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, reminded, "She is of Targaryen seed on her mother's side, but was raised under the Tyrells. She sits to inherit all of The Reach, she will be Lady of Highgarden - "

"Until," Grand Maester Orwyle interjected softly, "her young brother, the Young Lord Tyrell, comes of age."

Aegon waved their words off, complaining, "Yes, yes, but why do we caaaaare about some red headed bitch?"

See, where the Targaryens had trademark white locks, the Lannisters had golden strands. The Starks had deep umber brunette color hair, and while both the Tully's and Tyrell's erred more on the reddish side, the Tully's had darker overtones, like an auburn, and the Tyrell's had lighter, coppery-amber waves. North of the Wall, they say "kissed by fire".

"Because Lady Tyrell has laid successful claim to The Black Dread! To Balerion!" Alicent snapped, quickly adding the snarky punctuation, "Your Grace."

"Well, we have Vhagar - "

"With respect, Your Grace, Balerion could give a singular chomp to any living dragon as Vhagar did Arrax and it would prove fatal," Otto Hightower, the King's grandfather and Hand, quickly stepped in to save his daughter from losing her temper.

"Well, she doesn't even speak High Valyrian," Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes; lip curled, slouched in his chair.

"Neither do you," Aemond quipped in his Father's Tongue.

Otto continued loudly to prevent Aegon's response, "With The Black Dread now officially out of retirement and in play, the only choice we have is risk facing him in open battle, or..." His eyes shifted to Alicent, pausing, sighing and revealing, "Send an emissary to negotiate terms of an alliance."

"Meaning...?" Aegon drawled.

"Meaning a marriage pact, Your Grace," Otto supplied sternly.

"With respect?" Larys Strong spoke up, "But the Crown is lacking in their eligible bachelors for such terms."

"Or perhaps, what of someone outside the family? Marry two strong allies of the Crowns? Alliances henceforth might not have to include Targaryen marriages," Jason Lannister threw in quickly, but every Small Council member denied him just as swift.

It was reminded, "There's Prince Daeron."

"Lady Tyrell is actually the same age as Prince Aemond, I do not think she is looking for a husband so many years younger than her."

"Didn't Prince Aemond already secure the Baratheons through a marriage alliance?"

"Technically," Otto agreed slowly, "but given the circumstances and turning of tides, Lord Borros can be treated with in other ways should we need to offer Aemond for Lady Tyrell's willing support."

"Rhaenyra will send terms, as well," Alicent reminded. "Lady Tyrell is Prince Jacaerys' age, she might consider breaking his engagement, too."

The Small Council continued their plotting. Prince Aemond remained silent. Nobody so much as threw him a glance.

When the Black Queen Rhaenyra was informed of your heroics and your identity was questioned, her uncle-husband, Daemon, informed, "Daughter of the Forgotten Princess."

And Rhaenys affirmed, "My sister's daughter... Do not mistake her lineage for guaranteed alliance; her mother and I are long estranged, she's lived in The Reach her whole life - she does not know us. Nor owes us any loyalty."

"Perhaps she could be persuaded," Corlys wondered. "The Lady Tyrell is unwed, is she not?"

"As far as accounts go, yes," his wife reported.

"Perhaps a marriage alliance?" Corlys glanced around the table.

"To whom would you propose?" Queen Rhaenyra asked, all sat around the Painted Table.

"If I may be so bold...?"

"Please."

"Given your marriage to Daemon and his daughter's are shared with our own daughter, Laena... Is there truly need for a marriage pact between the children?"

Rhaenyra cocked her head, "You mean to... Disengage my son from his intended, and engage him again...? Like a pawn in chess? My son, Heir to the Iron Throne, married to Lady Tyrell?"

"Why do you sound displeased by the prospect, Your Grace?" Corlys wondered. "I hear the Lady Tyrell is most beautiful, and we need the Tyrell's wealth like we need their dragon, Balerion. If used properly, he can melt castles alone, Your Grace; burn towns, extinguish entire bloodlines, torch this country, melt the bloody Wall. No living dragon rivals him in size, in ferocity, in age nor experience. He's been at rest for decades now... Something tells me there's a reason he's come out of his nest."

"An omen," Rhaenyra agreed, straightening her spine.

"Precisely - the portents are cast, Your Grace."

"Lord Corlys makes a point," Daemon chimed in, "if by marriage, we secure The Reach and take back the Iron Throne with little to no carnage. Should the Greens fight, not even Vhagar could stand against Balerion."

"Prince Jacaerys is a handsome match to offer," another lord agreed, "which should help sway Lady Tyrell to our side."

"Which also frees both Lady Baela and Rhaena for other pacts - if need be."

"But if we have had this thought, I promise so has Alicent," Rhaenyra stood from the table, staring at the triangle of King's Landing, Dragonstone, and Highgarden. "Who would they offer? Who do they have, unwed, unpromised?"

"Well," Rhaenys stood to meet her Queen, "if we had the thought of a marriage alliance, and the thought to break off one engagement in favor of another, who is to say the Greens would not consider the same?"

It was quiet, a shiver shooting down the Queen's spine. "Vhagar and Balerion are familiar with one another," she grit her teeth, "and Aemond is the False King's brother. He's an attractive match, too."

"I think it's worth making the Tyrell's an offer," Corlys sat back in his seat. "They will receive us both and decide their allegiance - just as the Baratheons did, just as the rest of the Realm has or must do as well."

"Let it be done - if Prince Jacaerys agrees," Rhaenyra nodded, looking to her son - wanting his consent and participation in his own fate. Jace proudly lifted his chin and puffed his chest, nodding while nobody noted the looks of near relief on Lady Baela and Rhaena's faces. In a moment, they had been engaged to Jace and Luke without their thought, input, nor consent. In another moment, they were single young women with the tantalizing prospect to marry outside the family.

"I consider Her Grace's offer an honor."

> > > next part, part two: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread masterlist

i'm already writing it, but, poll for the end ―

[lcverwrites]

bad for business ― aegon x reader, aemond x reader (modern au) ... part two

part one

summary … it seems aemond has a knack for walking into her intimate moments, once is an accident, but twice... could she be trying to tell him something? pairings … aemond targaryen x tyrell!reader, aegon targaryen x tyrell!reader warnings ... 18+ content ahead so be warned people, smut, mutual masturbation, cum eating, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, kind of cheating...but not really, aegon being a little shit once again, unhealthy family dynamics

note … lets all pretend that I didn't leave this story in the dust for literal MONTHS...cool, thanks! here's the part two that I promised, it's only like....seven months late...enjoy!

⠀⠀⠀The sound of muffled moans rouses Aemond from the fitful rows of sleep, at first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. They were so quiet, barely a whisper of a sound, but they were there. Softly caressing the other side of Aemond's wall, coaxing him with a gentle hand, beckoning him with a sultry smile and a soft touch.

He tossed and turned under his comforter, the heat that he once felt lulling himself to sleep, was now all to consuming, flushing his cheeks and biting at his skin, like a hot breath clinging to his skin. Sweat beading at his hairline, dripping down the nape of his neck, clinging to his skin.

He huffed a breath, tossing the offending item from his body, allowing the cool touch of night grace his scorched skin.

But the cool whispers of night air, did nothing to smother the sounds.

Still so quiet, like he was listening to the sound as if he were underwater, and not just a mere wall away. But they rattled around in his brain, until it was all he could hear, all he could feel, all he could imagine.

He could only imagine what might have been happening on the other side of the wall, who might be making those delicious noises.

He pauses a moment, straining his ears, just to hear another sliver, just a crumb more to satisfy his curiosity. A breathy moan was the soft answer to his silent question, lingering in the hollow of her throat, like she was choking on the sound, like everything was too much and it expelled from her lips without her control.

Aemond swallows, gulping a breath through his nose, as if it was hard to come by the air readily available to him.

He waits another moment, pleading for more, begging who ever might have been listening to his silent prayers for just a moment more.

But he was met with utter silence, the air stilling around him, stagnant and pungent with his desire. Aemond shifted his hips, feeling the tight restraints of his boxers clinging to his body like a second skin. His cock pulsed with the desire to hear more of those delicious sounds, to be enveloped in the warmth he knew she radiated with.

He reached a hesitant hand down the smooth plains of his stomach, feeling his muscles tense under the grazing of his sweaty palm. He groped gently at his length, skin hot beneath the thin material of his boxers, thumbing over the tip, feeling a damp sensation spreading across the dark fabric.

Aemond grinded his teeth together, keeping the heady groan from falling from his lips, eye slanting closed as he tried to picture her perfect features, her awaiting lips, parted in the prettiest smile, kneeling before him.

As if his inner turmoil was being wound by her perfect hands, another breathy moan floated through the wall, as if it was just for him.

Except he knew it wasn't.

Aemond's hand recoiled, as if he had been burned. The image of her pretty face kneeling beneath him, was replaced with the very real imagine of her being completely railed into a plush mattress by his brother.

Taunting him with that smug smile "You know to keep your hands to yourself, brother"

The words had been seared into his brain, much like the image of her pleading expression as Aegon had pressed her into the wall, thrusting into the warm heat that Aemond longed to feel.

He let out a grunt of dissatisfaction.

He makes his way out of his bedroom, with every intention to tell the happy couple, that there were more people in this house than just the tow of them. He was willing to pound against the door if need be, we wasn't going to subjected to their torment once again, his brother wasn't going to get the needed fucking he seemingly desired.

But as he walked down the hall, the first thing he noticed, was the door to his brothers bedroom was ajar, allowing him a glimpse of the plush white bed in the middle of the room.

The second thing he noticed was the single figure on the bed.

Aemond felt the breath in the back of his throat catch.

From the little crack in the door, he could see her slender leg, bare of any fabric, curved slightly, bent at the knee and wide open. He followed the length of her leg, the supple flesh of her thigh, quivering with a movement that Aemond couldn't see, but the subtle movement of her muscles made his jaw clench.

Aemond took a step forward.

His legs betraying his mind.

He knew he should just turn around, forget the temping glimpse he was given, take it for the gift that it was, and go back to bed. But the memory of her eyes watching him, taunting him with her hooded lids and her sultry smile, the words she gave just to him, the way she begged for him, all the while she had his brother bring her the pleasure he wished he was giving her.

Aemond reached for the door blocking his view, pushing the offending wood a little further open.

He followed the length of her leg, sliding past her quivering thigh, stalling on the hand between her legs.

Her fingers were twirling little circles around her clit, back arching as they picked up speed, her free hand was pressed against her exposed chest, tweaking her nipple in tight squeezes, tugging at the supple flesh. Her plush lips were red and raw, bitten down on by her own teeth, soothed by the wet licks of her tongue.

Aemond's breath caught, and he struggled to find the air his lungs desired, to encapsulated by the pure desire that oozed from her body. Without real thought, Aemond's hand made it's way back to his throbbing length, only this time he forewent the boxers, hand dipping beneath the material and straight to the molten skin beneath.

He bit back a groan as he wrapped a large hand around his cock, giving it a harsh stroke, boxers damp with precum, giving Aemond ample lubricant to stroke his length. He timed his strokes with the subtle movements she made against her clit, ever circle she made around the aroused nub, Aemond would stroke his length from base to tip and back down again. He imagined it was his own hand bringing her the pleasure she was currently feeling.

"Is voyeurism your thing or something?"

Her voice was breathy and enticing, coated in a thick layer of desire, it scratched at the back of Aemond's mind.

He jolted back to reality, lifting his gaze from her still moving fingers to her clouded eyes. They were dazed, eyes hooded with her drooping lips, darkened with her desire, yet lit aflame by the mere sight of Aemond standing before her.

Those plush lips were turned up into a soft smile, teasing in manner, but sensual all the same.

"No, no...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" Aemond tried to find the right thing to say, anything to say at the point, but he found himself caught in her sensual gaze, and he couldn't find the words he so desired.

"No you're not" She denied for him, cocking her head a little, eyes travelling the length of Aemond's body, pausing on the hand his still had buried in his boxers. "You're not sorry enough walk away, nor are you sorry enough to stop stroking your cock"

Aemond felt his cheeks flush at her statement, taking note that his own hand kept mirroring her motions, keeping a harsh grip on his cock as he stroked.

"No, I'm not" Aemond agreed.

Her smile was giddy now, it settled a warm thrill in Aemond's chest.

"Are you sorry enough to let me see?" She asked, biting down on her lip, fingers moving quickly around her clit, hips lifting at the change of pace, a soft moan followed her question, and it was that Aemond needed to hear.

Aemond pulled his hand from his boxers, dipping his fingers in the waistline of the offending item, slipping it past his muscled thighs, allowing it to pool around his feet like an inky puddle.

Her eyes widened at his exposed length, but her smile stayed put.

"Fuck" She whimpered at the sight. "It's big"

Aemond wouldn't know what she was comparing it to, perhaps his brother, the thought of her thinking she was bigger than his brother had his chest puffing up with pride. Aemond knew his cock wasn't small, but it wasn't large by any means, he'd never had the desire to measure it. He'd never had any complaints thus far, and her lustful gaze staring directly at his length made him think that he was pretty good.

Aemond brought his hand back to his cock, thumbing at the precum leaking from his tip, sliding the pearly liquid down his length as he gave it a soft stroke.

Her lips part at the sight, a strangled sound escaping, like a choked breath and a strained moan fighting their way out of her lips, meeting in the middle to create an entirely new sound. Aemond relishes in the sound, knowing it was for him, for something he was doing, bring her pleasure without even having to touch her.

"Come closer" She whispers.

Aemond doesn't waste a moment after the command, stalking into the room with purposeful steps, long strides into the room, until he was standing at the edge of the bed, standing on the precipice of something truly extraordinary.

She opens the gap between her legs, just a fraction wider, allowing Aemond and even better look at the cunt between her legs.

Her skin looked like smooth silk, ridges rising and falling, her fingers moving delicately over her leaking pussy. Her fingers shined with her evident arousal, the clear liquid dribbled down from her fingers, staining her thighs with a clear sheen, slipping over her skin and down to the damp white sheets beneath her. Aemond cooed softly, tilting his head a little, trying to look past the hand twisting her clit, trying to see her in her entirety.

"You're making such a mess" He mumbled, placing one knee on the mattress, landing directly between her spread legs.

"mhm" She mumbled, nodded her head rapidly, like she was slowly loosing the fight with her washing desire.

"Such a pretty girl" Aemond spoke gently, but there was a firmness to his tone, like he was certain, his conviction was strong.

He brought his other knee onto the bed, shuffling gracefully towards her, his cock bobbing up and down with the motion, taking her attention in a metaphorical chokehold.

His hand reached for his cock once more, stroking it with a firmness that brought a pleasurable shiver to his spine. She watches his hand stroke over his member, her legs widening just a fraction more, welcoming him into her warm embrace, all the while her fingers continued to tease her clit.

"Aemond"

Her voice is pure sin.

The sound of his name falling from her lips in that throaty and raw voice had a jolt of desire wrap around his throat, he answered her plea with a moan of his own, deep and needy.

Her fingers moved from her clit to tease her unattended entrance, swirling the tip of her index finger at her weeping hole. Aemond waited on bated breath, cock throbbing in time with her ministrations.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she pushed a single finger inside her pussy, inch by inch disappearing from Aemond's view. He watched until only her knuckle was visible, her finger stayed buried inside her pussy for a moment, her back arching as a pleased keen fell past her lips. Aemond licked his own lips, thumbing over the slit at the tip of his cock, smearing his own wetness around his cock head, imagining it was her wetness coating his cock.

Her finger slowly eased it's way back out of her pussy, a sheen coating the digit, before pushing it's way back inside, this time welcomed by a second finger, stretching her entrance.

"That feel good pretty girl?" Aemond question, his own voice barely just a breath.

She found no words on the tip of her tongue, just a whimpering moan as her answer.

"Keep going" Aemond urged, shuffling closer now, leaning over her sweat glistening body, cock held firmly in hand, fisting his cock over her pussy. "Show me how pretty you look when you cum"

She whimpered in reply, her fingers picking up speed, slipping in and out of her pussy with ease. Her head thrown back into the pillow beneath her head, eyes tightly screwed shut, lips parted in an oh shape.

"No" Aemond grounded out, teeth clenched as he teetered over the edge. "Open your eyes"

Lazily, her eyes peeled open, dropping slightly, but they were open. Her tongue lolled out past her lips as she panted deep breaths, willing the air into her starved lungs. Aemond felt a victorious smile spread across his lips.

He couldn't wipe the image of her begging for him as his brother took her up against that wall, begging and pleading for him, hooded eyes glued to him as she begged for her release, for his cock to be inside of her, bringing her pleasure.

But it would now share it's place with this image.

With her, spread out beneath him, fingers deep in her cunt, drenching the sheets below her, moaning Aemond's name as she brought herself to the edge of her pleasure, all for him. He was guiding her to the big finish without even having to touch her.

"There she is, my pretty girl" Aemond praised.

She mewled a high pitched sound, hips canting up at his words, digging her fingers deeper into her pussy, thrusting them in and out, repeating the action over and over.

"Look at me when you cum" Aemond demanded.

"A-aemond" Was the only word that fell from her lips, much to Aemond delight.

The squelching sound of her fingers dipping in and out of her cunt, echoed through the room, it had Aemond thrusting into his fist, grunting loudly as his eye switched from watching her own eyes, to the wet mess she was making between her legs.

"I...I--Fuck!"

Her back arched right off the bed with the exclamation, her fingers rapidly moved within her pussy as she came around the digits, sprits of her orgasm splashed against her hand, dripping down her legs. Aemond could feel the warmth from her body spreading across the bed, could feel it with ever thrust of his hand against his cock, barely brushing up against her weeping cunt.

"Such a good girl" Aemond groaned, tilting his head forward, brows furrowing slightly.

She huffed a gentle laugh, slowing her fingers down, enjoying the ebbing feeling of her pleasure.

Her tongue darted out to wet her drying lips, panting breaths making her chest rise and fall in quick succession. Her eyes were glued to Aemond's face, with his pinched brow, his clenched jaw, his raw and bitten lips.

"Cum for me Aemond" She whispered in the space between them. "I want you to cum for me, please Aemond"

Her pleading was all it took for Aemond. His fist tightened around his cock, stroking with a new found vigour. He gazed right into her lust filled eyes, feeling his body tense, his shoulders and spine becoming ridged, before he spilled white pearls of cum against her dripping pussy.

His eye screwed shut shut, brows furrowing low on his forehead, lips parted as a deep and growled grunt fell past his lips. He could feel his cock pulsing with every drop of cum that leaked out of the tip. It dripped down onto her heated skin, coating her in drops of white.

Aemond let out a deep breath, slowly allowing his eye to flutter open, to be greeted with her smiling right up at him, eyes glittering with a sensual amusement.

She let out a humming noise as she felt the extra heat against her skin, he watched her use her free hand to push the white drops of his spend against her tender clit, rubbing it against her already wet cunt. She moan at the feeling of her hand touching the most tender part of her body.

Aemond didn't hold back the grunt that fell right out of his lips as he watched their respective orgasms blend together as one, keeping her cunt nice and wet.

"You little minx" Aemond muttered, feeling the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk.

"Aegon said you couldn't touch" She hummed with a breathless sound. "But he didn't say I couldn't"

Aemond scowled down at her, mentioning his brother, when she was practically pushing his cum into her cunt.

"Fuck Aegon, and fuck his rules" Aemond gritted out, moving from his position on the bed.

She looked a little taken aback at his departure, but he wasn't gone for long, only repositioning himself between her legs, so his face was directly inches away from her weeping cunt.

She let a surprised gasp when he tore he hand right from her pussy, replacing her digits with his tongue.

Aemond licked a fat strip along her wet slit, lapping up the remnants of her orgasm. She was heady on his tongue, tangy and warm. He flicked his tongue around her abused clit, tasting their mixed fluids on his tongue, his salty cum a differing taste on his tongue, but mixed with her leaking arousal, Aemond found himself enjoying their combined taste.

His large hands wrapped around her plush thighs, pushing them open even further, burring his face into her wet cunt, slurping at the liquid dripping from her hole.

"Aemond!" She exclaimed, fingers wrapping around the cropped length of his pale hair, pushing him further into her pussy. "Shit!"

"Fuckin' pretty pussy" Aemond grunted against her pussy lips, wrapping his lips around her clit, giving it a rather harsh suck, resulting in her hips bucking up off the bed. "Taste so good pretty girl"

"Oh god! Please!"

Aemond wiggled his tongue back and forth, teasing the opening of her pussy, before wrapping it back around her clit, feeling her juices drip down his chin.

"You gonna come on my tongue?" Aemond teased.

She bit down on her lip, nodded her head rapidly, as she peered down at Aemond's face, half buried in her pussy. She looked just into his good eye, the azure shade of blue was dark, lust swimming in the liquid of his eye, white the sapphire in his other eye, glinted back at her, reflection her own pleasure.

She tugged harshly at his blonde hair, Aemond grunted at the pain, a pleasured feeling racing down his spine. He kept his eye on her face, directly in her one line of sight. He watched as her lips parted, a subtle flush took over her cheeks, darkening the skin, a precursor for her impending explosion.

"Go on then" Aemond gruffly said. "Come for me"

She did as he commanded, another round of juices squirted from her pussy, coating Aemond's tongue, dribbling down his chin, painting his skin with her arousal. Her back arched in an almost painful manner, lifted right off her bed, fingers buried in Aemond's hair, holding his face between her trembling thighs.

Aemond flicked his tongue gently against her clit, prolonging her pleasure, allowing her to take from him whatever she wanted.

She gasped for air, trying to recover from her second orgasm of the night, all the while Aemond continued to tease her. Aemond smiled against her sticky pussy lips, making an amused huffing sound, almost light laughter. It ticked against her pussy, making her body jolt with the added pleasure of the vibrations.

Aemond tore his mouth reluctantly from her pussy, lips and chin shiny with her arousal.

As she caught her breath, she offered Aemond a tired smile, letting go of his hair, allowing her hands to rest against her clammy thighs. Aemond took her hands with in his own, locking their fingers together with a tender squeeze, one she returned, though with less strength.

"Wonderful show brother!"

Aemond jumped at the sound of his brothers amused booming voice. He turned, seeing Aegon standing in the door way, just like Aemond had been all those days ago, just watching the couple on the bed.

"Truly wonderful" Aegon cackled, clapping his hands together. "'Fuck Aegon, and fuck his rules'" Aegon mocked Aemond's earlier words.

Aemond felt his cheeks flush with rage, loosening his fingers from her hands, wallowing in her silence, as she allowed his brother to poke and prod at him.

"She's a good fuck isn't she brother" Aegon boasted, not really looking for a comment from Aemond as he continued. "Did you fuck her like a hound"

"Aegon" She chastised him, only uttering his brothers name, pushing her body up into a sitting position, Aemond followed her her suit, pushing himself away from her thighs.

"Oh my love" Aegon tenderly said, placing a hand against his beating heart. "Did you enjoy cumming on my brothers tongue?"

She flushed with his question.

"Did you enjoy the way she tasted brother?" Aegon turned his attention back to Aemond. "Perhaps you'd like to get your cock wet, she's more than willing, aren't you my love"

Aemond looked from his brother to her, who was gazing down warmly at Aemond. She reached a gentle hand to his face, thumb caressing his warmed cheek, right below the broken socket of his eyes, the tender flesh of his scare beneath her fingertips, not shying away from him.

"Aegon's an ass" She kindly stated, which had Aegon spluttering an absurd amount of profanities behind him, all of which she ignored in favour of Aemond. "But, I'd like you to stay"

"Go on brother, give her the fucking she's begging for her" Aegon continued to taunt Aemond, but his voice was closer now, right behind him.

Aemond ignored Aegon as he rounded the bed, sitting right next to her, leaning against her naked body, arm wrapping around her waist, holding her against him in a rather tender embrace, a rare sight for his brother. Aegon pressed his face into the damp skin of her neck, inhaling her scent, before pressing his lips against her skin in slick and wanton kisses.

Aemond watched as her eyes lids fluttered at the feeling of his brothers lips on her body, but her gaze remained on Aemond.

"Please Aemond" She begged.

Aemond really was a sucker for this woman, he was about ready to throw himself at her, all because she was readily begging for him, like she truly wanted him.

And if tonight was anything to go by, then maybe she did want him.

Just as much as she wanted his brother.

extra note ... leaving you of a cliff hanger, because i'm an evil person! let me know if you wanna see them get down and dirty with each other, or like if you wanna see them in a throuple situation....no tagcest involved (sorry not sorry), hope you liked this smutty little piece either way!

[eraenaa]

Silent Passions

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence. 

Warnings: Unwanted sexual advances from Daemon Targaryen, ¿Softer Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 8,678 (bear with me pls)

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Aemond x Tyrell Reader (which has the personality of Francesca Bridgerton), and when they are about to get married, Daemon tries to seduce her, making Aemond distrust her."

A flower promised to a dragon. Long before you were born, you, a daughter of House Tyrell, had been the intended to be wed to the second son of the King, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your mother was one of the scarce friends the Queen had made in the court after her estrangement with Princess Rhaenyra. You were born in the walls of the keep, the queen in attendance of your birth, smiling widely as the nurse announced that you were a girl— she was the first person to hold you after your mother and the wet nurse who handed you to her. “Oh, such a beauty she is…” The Queen cooed as she held you in her arms. Your mother smiled through her tiredness at how quickly the queen had taken to you. 

“She would make the most wonderful princess,” The queen sighed and returned you to your mother, turning her head towards the door where your promised groom already stood. Prince Aemond waddled to his mother. The boy was only two years old but was already meeting his intended. The queen took her son into her arms, lifting him up to see his future bride, who whined in her mother’s arms. Aemond furrowed his brows, stuck out his tongue, and made a noise of disapproval when he saw the pink-faced babe. “That’s not quite nice… show respect for your future wife,” The queen smiled and brushed the silvery locks of her son. 

That was the first and last time you and the prince met. Your mother and father returned to Highgarden as their stay in court was cut short with your father needing to return to his seat. For the first six and ten years of your life, you were promised to a man you have never met. Bearing the plight of women before you, promised to a man, not because of your will or your love for him but merely for status and to appease those who stood on high stature. You were defenseless as they paved your life before you, forcing you down a road that was often traveled by but many did not wish to cross. 

“We are to return to Kingslanding.” Your father suddenly announced. The dinner table went silent. The boisterous laughs and jests of your three older brothers and the babbles of your younger twin brother and sister growing hushed. “Why?” You asked quietly, breaking the silence. You pet the fur of your beloved feline, trying to calm your nerves as your mind brought forth a reason. “The queen requested our presence, dearest… it is time to meet your betrothed.” Your mother smiled and took hold of your hand, lightly squeezing it in comfort, thought you felt none. You lowered your gaze and tried to shut out the return of loud voices around the table. 

It was not that it was unexpected… it was just… wholly overwhelming. You took a few moments and a few more bites of your supper before excusing yourself from the loud table, needing peace and quiet. “Are you well, sister?” Your oldest brother, Edward, asked in concern, pausing his conversation with your other brothers, Edgar and Edmund. “Yes, I’m just tired.” You said with a small smile and left the dinner table with your pet. 

The matter of your betrothal with the prince was not at all an old matter. Ever since you were a child, they have instilled in your mind that you were Prince Aemond’s intended. That one day, you will be his bride. It was a subject you found troubling— for how can one live at ease, being promised to a man they had never met before? How could one truly live their life if their purpose is only to be married off— treated practically as a broodmare. 

 You were alone with your thoughts until you heard the faint knock on your door and your brother, Edmund, slowly opening it and peeking his head inside your chambers. “Yes?” You asked and sat straighter, removing your eyes from the fire you stared upon. 

“I am just making certain that you’re well.” He said softly and fully opened your chamber door, stepping in and bringing you a piece of cake for you had missed the dessert portion of your dinner. “Thank you,” You say gratefully, but simply place the piece of your favorite dessert on the table beside you, making your brother quickly grow suspicious. “What’s wrong?” Edmund asked in concern, taking his seat beside you. 

You gave him a forced smile and shook your head. “Nothing, I told you, I’m just tired.” You say softly, but your brother’s frown severed. “You’re clearly lying— no matter how tired you are, you always have energy for cake.” Your brother sighed, making you sigh as well. “I’m… I’m scared,” You admitted. Your brother nodded in understanding, “I would be surprised if you weren’t,” 

You twiddled with the ends of your hair as you and your brother were enveloped in a heavy, suffocating silence. “It’s just— I have been prepared for this since I was a babe… It’s all I know, but at the same time, I know nothing. I have no idea about him. What my life would be like after our marriage.” You say, your voice trembling with fear. “And I have been hearing rumors…” you say cautiously, your eyes upon your pet, who slept soundly on your lap.  “Rumors? You are never one to listen to rumors, "Your brother said in surprise; his sister was always indifferent to whispers and gossip. 

“Last summer, our cousin Eliza had gone to court… and there she observed Prince Aemond for me. To report to me what he was like because I had no idea of my future husband,” You began to recount the favor your cousin had done for you to ease your nerves about the marriage. “And?” Your brother leaned closer in curiosity. “She said he was… cold, aloof. Standoffish— ruthless when training with his sword. Indifferent, bordering into insulting to all members of the court.” You say quietly, uttering the harbored fear of your betrothed for almost a year now. Edmund licked his lips; your cousin Eliza was never one to exaggerate. 

“P—Perhaps it was just that summer… mayhap he has changed with the season,” Your brother tried to give a comforting smile, but it turned wary, neither of you believing his comforting but empty words. “I’m sorry, sister,” Your brother said quietly after a moment, looking at you with empathy. He also wondered how you would fare when married to a dragon prince and being a member of the den of vipers that was the court. 

You had always been timid, quiet, demure. He had always been skeptical of this betrothal set between you and the prince. He recalled how your father wanted to contest it, to break off the betrothal in your adolescence, seeing that his daughter was too soft for the harshness of royalty, but your mother did not wish for it, scared that it would offend her friend, the queen. 

“I don’t expect much from the marriage,” You spoke, “I… I only wish for him to be kind and perhaps grant me my solitude from time to time,” You added, and your brother nodded, “We shall see to it that you have it, sister. If we are to prove that the prince is ungallant or disagreeable, we shall convince Mother and Father to free you from him,” Your brother swore, and you gave him a sad smile, unconvinced by his promise but touched by the gesture of it. 

Edmund left his sister to the quiet she reveled and needed; Edmund marched in search of his other brothers. “She’s scared,” He announced as he found them in the drawing room; Edward, the eldest of them, lifted his gaze, “Who wouldn’t be?” He asked rhetorically as he sipped on his wine. “Are we truly that indebted to the crown? That we must oblige them with our dear sister?” Edgar questioned, “We are not indebted; our mother is,” Edgar replied. Your mother is forever grateful for her friend, the queen, who had shown her kindness during her time in court as a girl. She was greatly looked down upon, her father’s house inconsequential to the realm and often seen as a burden— through her friendship with Queen Alicent, she had risen through the ranks and had even secured a match with the heir of Highgarden. 

“Well, surely our sister is too great a price for this… emotional debt, especially when you consider the others who had wished to be her suitor, princes from Dorne and Essos who had sung her praises and showered her gifts for years. Yet they will force her to settle for a second son. She has not even met him! Not a letter or a token to show goodwill to his betrothed,” Edward sighed at his brother’s query. “What would you have us do?” Edgar asked, “I do not know… but if Prince Aemond is truly as harsh and tempestuous as Eliza and the realm says, we must convince them to break the betrothal.” Edmund was contented as his brothers agreed, all concerned for your marriage with a prince you had not even met yet. 

“Is all these frills truly necessary?” Aemond grumbled as he was being fitted for new garments, suffering through the needed preparations to meet his betrothed. “Yes. We cannot have you wear faded attire that reeks of dragon when you meet your betrothed. And I implore you to be kind and good-humored, Aemond. You must not scare off your wife,” Alicent sighed and nodded as the tailor bowed and finished taking the prince’s measurements. “She is not my wife,” Aemond gritted, “She is not your wife yet,” Alicent corrected, and Aemond shook his head. The dread in him was multiplying by the day. He was fortunate enough that his mother had not forced him to meet his betrothed years before, convincing himself that perhaps she had changed her mind and the betrothal could be broken, but alas, the fateful day to meet you has arrived. 

Aemond had not met you nor heard anything from you. He would think it common courtesy for you to send him at least a letter, to know him before this doomed marriage, but you had sent none— no introduction or anything. He did, however, hear talk about you, the bloomed beauty of the reach. A lady who was already betrothed the moment she was born but was still lined up by men who hoped to be her suitor. Aemond scoffed at the thought, perceiving you as promiscuous and maybe even defiled. Aemond met your cousin last summer, the lady Eliza, loud and not at all chaste. A shameless flirt who went around the castle and made a spectacle of herself, she was not you, but Aemond liked to believe that that is how you acted as well. 

Aemond tried to calm himself, to take his thoughts away from your arrival, but it would seem the castle was a growing reminder of you. He walked passed the great hall that was being dressed up for your family’s arrival. He passed the gardens where gardeners had been tending to flowers that were neglected, fretting that your family would take the wilted flowers as an offense. Aemond shook his head and walked through the guest wing, and saw how your chambers were being prepared. Aemond gritted his jaw and decided to retire early that day, but it would seem even the royal wing of the castle was being dressed up for your arrival. He frowned as he passed a once-boarded-up room being cleaned, “Who is to stay here?” Aemond asked a maid, believing his mother would place you in a chamber that was only a few steps from his own, a rather scandalous decision. 

“The prince Daemon, my prince, the hand says he is to stay for the moon,” A maid bowed, and Aemond furrowed his brow before giving a nod to dismiss the maid, and he walked off to his chambers; it would seem that it was not only your arrival he must worry about, he must worry about the arrival of his uncle as well. 

After five days of travel, you and the whole of your family arrived in Kingslanding. You took deep breaths before exiting the carriage, your kin being welcomed by a row of knights along with the Queen and her children. You could not even bear to look at anyone but the queen, scared to let your gaze travel to your betrothed. Your brothers stood by your side, offering support as all three pairs of their eyes assessed the prince, who had a look of disinterest. Edmund turned to his brothers, trying to see if they as well felt the animosity from the one-eyed prince that was easily felt. Through their eyes, they communicated silently and agreed. 

You straightened your back as you felt the Queen’s gaze upon you; only then did you raise your raise your gaze fully and presented her with a pretend smile. “My queen,” You curtsied lowly in respect; Queen Alicent smiled fondly and offered her compliments. The  queen bemused for her son to have such a comely wife. She turned to her side as she felt Aemond had still not stepped forward or had taken the initiative to introduce himself. 

Aemond sighed as he stepped forward and stiffly, almost reluctantly, bowed before you. He was staring at the skirts of your dress, refusing to look upon your face. He watched as the fabric moved as you curtsied before him. When you straightened your stance, you stared at the floor, still not catching a glimpse of your betrothed. 

You feel your brother Edgar’s arm link with yours as your family is escorted inside the walls of the Red Keep. The royal family walked in front of yours, and only then did you dare to look upon your betrothed. Recalling how your cousin had told you that prince Aemond was the taller of the two princes and had a curtain of straight, silver locks. 

Aemond felt your stare, and it took great restraint upon himself not to turn and gaze upon you to see the actuality of his intended. To deduce if the talk of your beauty was true or just another hoax. 

Aemond felt his mother step closer to him, “Invite your betrothed to the gardens— begin to acquaint yourselves with one another.” The queen whispered, and Aemond rolled his eye. “They have been traveling for five days; let them rest first before you force us to these rituals.” Aemond quietly spoke. His words were easily covered by the chatter of your brothers and two younger siblings, but he still had to hear a word to be uttered from your lips. “Very well then, but I expect you to sit and get to know her later during supper,” Alicent warned, and Aemond resisted verbalizing his disapproval, simply nodding along and going about his mother’s orders just as the dutiful son that he was. 

You and Aemond sat quietly in your seats as the table was filled with chatter. Aemond was not accustomed to it; their usual supper was suffocatingly silent; the only thing to be heard was the clatter of silverware upon porcelain and the breathing of his kin. Now, it was filled with varying conversations from your brothers and his, along with the chatter of the queen and her friend. Aemond had still not looked upon your face and nor you him. He stared upon your hand that was gripping your chalice; just from the looks of it, he could attest that it had never known a day’s work. The look of your flesh was soft, supple, unsullied—a stark difference from his own. 

“Do you think they will go on well?” The queen whispered to her friend; your mother eyed you, who sat in her seat, your gaze upon your plate. Her eyes then turned to your future husband, who gazed at the flickering amber light of a candle in between you. “I do not know… my daughter relishes in silence,” Your mother admitted, and the queen hummed. “So does my son,” 

You chewed on your lip as you noticed everyone at the table was chatting with one another, making small talk, except for you and your intended. You sat by his right, and you could make out the outline of him through the side of your eye; your view of him was a bit obstructed, but you could make out the contour of his nose. You battled with yourself if you should speak with him and, if you did, what topic would you bring up to converse with? 

Aemond licked his lips as he caught the eyes of his mother, imploring him to speak with you. He clenched his jaw and took a few calming breaths before parting his lips to speak. “H… How were your travels, my lady?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth, his head slightly turned in your direction. You blinked, trying to deduce if you had actually heard him speak. You turned to face the prince, finally seeing your betrothed eye to eye. “It was fine, my prince,” You answered quietly with a small smile before you and Aemond were enveloped in silence once more. 

Aemond did not know what overcame him when you spoke, and your eyes met his. He was expecting your voice to be shrill and loud— grating, even. He did not expect to hear such a soft, almost melodious tone when you spoke— a deep contrast from the voices of your kin. 

You bit your lip as you saw your mother from across the table imploring you to keep up with your conversation with the prince. “I— I heard you are quite fond of the histories, your highness,” You inquired quietly, holding your breath as your eyes locked with the unique gaze of old Valyria once more. “I am,” he replied curtly, and you nodded, uncertain if you should speak further or let his answer be, sensing he did not wish for small talk, a sentiment you, too, shared. 

You went quiet once more, and in other circumstances, Aemond would find relief in that, letting himself ease into the quiet, but there was an odd sensation in him that was pushing him to continue the unconventional conversation you two shared. Aemond, however, bit his tongue and let you two be enveloped in silence as you waited for supper to end. 

Aemond returned to his chambers, mind plagued by how to perceive his first encounters with you. He had prepared himself for the possibility of him growing annoyed and aggravated by your presence, but he was surprised in himself as he felt no such emotions rising within him. In truth, he felt somewhat serene that night, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. However, instead of enjoying the calm in his raging being, he ignored it, untrusting of it. Convincing himself that that night was luring him into a trap, one you had devised, acting ever so demure and coy, not presenting your true nature and only deceiving the prince. He will not fall for it. He fortified himself to not lay prey to this calming allure you offered. 

When the next morning came, Aemond was implored with the rest of his siblings to break their fast with yours. Your mothers forcing a bond between their children. Aemond expected his brother Aegon to complain and not abide by their mother’s wishes which is why he was caught off guard as his brother agreed, him being the first one to go to the gardens. “Your Highnesses,” Aemond heard your brothers greet in unison as you four stood and curtsied and bowed before the three of them. 

Aemond first assisted his sister to a chair before finding one for himself, and by fate, the only seat left was the one next to yours. Aemond sat quietly and tried to finish his meal as fast as he could without appearing crude. He listened in to the chatter across the table, surprised that you and his sister struck up a conversation as well. Aemond listened intently to your voice, trying to see if the volume of your speech was forced to lower or if that was just actually the way you spoke, soft— calming. 

He did not pay mind to the subject you and his sister discussed, but he supposed he should have as he suddenly heard quiet laughs emitting from the both of you. Aemond felt an odd warming in his chest as he heard you laugh; it was almost… surreal to hear it. Your laugh was what he imagined nymphs’ laughs would sound like as he read about them in his books. He was in a trance; it was… out worldly that even he, the well-spoken and silver-tongued prince of the realm, was speechless on how to describe it. 

He was proven wholly wrong as he based your manners to be alike your cousin. You were a stark difference from the lady Eliza, and a part of Aemond had hoped you were like her because then, he could justify the prejudice against you that settled and bloomed in his heart. Now, he must come to terms with shedding his cruel perception of you and might actually make an effort to know his betrothed better. Aemond stayed in the gardens that morning a while longer than he had anticipated, trying to deduce your character as you spoke with his sister and interacted with your brothers. A part of him still believes that what you presented was an act, that you were not as demure and chaste as you lead them to believe. But as he saw your small smiles, timid eyes, and flushed cheeks when Aegon would speak of such inappropriate topics, he started to feel as if you were being genuine. 

As the sun began to descend higher into the skies, the children of the queen and her friend decided to depart from the gardens, the heat proving to be too great for comfort. “My lady, would you perhaps like a tour of the keep?” Aemond boldly but quietly asked, he felt the eyes of your brothers turn to him, but he was trying to capture your gaze. A gaze that he had trouble locking upon his, your eyes always darting around the room, difficulty in holding prolonged eye contact. “I would very much like that, my prince,” You smiled, and Aemond stood straighter, feeling his knees give out under him just because of your smile. 

Your brother’s eyes followed you as you and the prince detached yourselves from the group. “Should we not follow them?” Edmund questioned, “Are they allowed to go about without an escort?” Edgar then asked, their queries pointed towards their eldest brother. “I— I do not know… perhaps we should just let them get to know each other, and if sister has any concerns, that is when we shall intervene.” Edward decided, his eyes following your departing figure that was next to a silver prince. 

Aemond was not entirely certain as to how he would go about touring you along the Red Keep; the castle was dreary and had nothing of note to look upon, so he took you to the gallery. It was a less frequented room in the castle filled with portraits of his family’s history as well as some of Westeros. You and Aemond stood before a portrait of the conqueror and his wives, him retelling the histories that you already knew of, but you still listened intently because there was just something in his voice that entranced you. It was deep, velvety, and quiet— holding a sense of calm that enveloped you with every word he uttered. 

Aemond guided you towards another portrait, but he noticed your gaze had shifted to the side of the room, your gentle gaze upon a harp. “Do you play, my prince?” You questioned, unable to resist the instrument that sat lonesome to the side, dusted and neglected. Aemond followed you, “No, I do not,” he answered, his eye going to your fingers, which seemed to itch to touch the strings of the unused harp. “Do you?” He asked, already guessing the answer. Aemond held his breath as your eyes finally locked with his, “I do,” you said, voice holding a pitch of excitement about the subject. There was a beat of silence, neither of you knowing what to do or say. 

“Would you like to play it?” Aemond questioned and he felt his stomach grow warm as a smile appeared on your lips when you nodded. You ventured closer to the dusted seat, but Aemond was quicker to reach it and wipe away the remnants of lapsed time. “Thank you,” You say quietly as the prince stands by your side and observes you play. 

Aemond was never one to enjoy music or songs, but he must admit, there was something captivating about how you played the harp. The tune you played was one he had not heard before, something bright and lively yet still soothing. Aemond stood in quiet awe, watching as your fingers danced along the strings and how your eyes closed, and there was a tranquil smile on your lips as you played the tune. Aemond tried to resist it, but he could not help but help himself as a smile twitched on his lips as he listened to your melody, which, unfortunately, quickly came to a halt. 

“It’s not finished yet,” You say in slight embarrassment, daring to turn to the prince, who you were surprised to see have a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You wrote that?” He questioned, and you nodded, “Well, I try. I don’t think I'm quite good at it, if I am being honest— but my father did say that this piece holds the most promise.” You say sheepishly. “I quite enjoyed it,” Aemond admitted, and that compliment made your heart grow warm. “I’m glad,” You smiled, and another silence took the room, the silence you and he found comfort in. 

With each day spent trying to acquaint with one another, you would like to beleive you and Aemond had reached a deeper understanding. Each of your perceptions made of each other before your meeting shed as you and him began to know each other’s actuality.

There was a secret language between you, a silent one, at that. An agreement that neither of you had to fill up the gaps and lags in your conversations, simply enjoying the quiet, not forcing another topic as a filler. Others around you found it odd that you and your betrothed just walked and sat in silence, occasionally speaking of something that only you and he were privy to, but you and Aemond quite liked your arrangements. 

“They just sit there in silence,” The queen fretted to her friends, finding the design of your accord quite odd. Fretting that the silence was brought by indifference rather than just a mutual and deeper understanding, because how could one get to know the other in silence? “Aye, they do, but they don’t seem… bothered or disinterested by it— I dare say they are fond of it,” Your mother said as the two observed you and Aemond, who walked along the gardens in silence, relishing in the sounds of nature. 

“My uncle shall arrive today,” Aemond broke the silence, assisting you to a seat for the two of you to have refreshments, “Oh, Prince Daemon?” You asked, wanting to make certain of who he spoke of. Aemond gave a nod and watched as your delicate fingers poured him a cup of tea. “Are you close with him, my prince?” You wondered. “No, not at all. I’ve only met him once,” He answered as he placed two cubes of sugar upon your cup, noting that is how you took your tea. 

“However, I must admit that I am intrigued by him.” You nodded, “I always hear talk in this court as to how the lords and ladies compared me to him in his youth,” Aemond confessed, “And does that please you?” Aemond thought about your question for a moment, staring into your gaze that has grown accustomed to looking upon his. “No,” he answered, watching as you nodded. “I would understand; it wouldn’t fare well if we are always compared to another’s likeness,” You mused before you and the prince were enveloped in the inevitable silence once more. 

When supper was nearing, Aemond felt excitement in seeing you once more. He had come far from the prince who dreaded your company; now, he sought it—altering his usual routine in order to spend more time with you. 

Aemond was the last one to enter the dining hall, his eye searching your frame, feeling a smirk twitch on his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he realized his uncle had taken his place. “Prince Daemon, we have saved you a seat next to the king,” Alicent spoke as she noticed Aemond’s arrival, noting how Prince Daemon was quick to spot you when he entered the hall and made a beeline towards you— chatting with you who had no interest in small talk but still participated out of respect.

“I am quite comfortable here, next to Lady Tyrell,” Daemon refused the seat, only settling further into his chair as he turned to the girl next to him, but her gaze was turned to one of his nephews, the one who had a resemblance of him in his youth. You hear the quiet yet disapproving hum of your betrothed as he orders a squire to place a chair by your right, just enough space for him to sit next to you. The new place on your right offered closer proximity between you and Aemond as you had scooted away from his uncle, but he did not like that you were on the side of a damaged eye, unable to see your outline. 

Supper was tenser than the ones shared before; the chatter had died, and the table was enveloped in silence, but not the kind you and Aemond found comfort in. It was the silence that everyone feared and tried earnestly to alter, but no matter the attempts, it seemed futile. 

Aemond clenched his fists around his utensils, hearing as his uncle tried to chat you up and you entertaining his queries. “So, what brings you and your family here, Lady Tyrell? Highgarden is quite a journey.” Daemon questioned. “They came for my betrothed and I to be acquainted,” Aemond suddenly interjected, turning his body to face you and his uncle, who he had noticed threaded closer to your side. Daemon hummed, quick to sense jealousy from his nephew. He knew he should be somewhat mature, but his mind could not help but conjure up possibilities to torment his brother’s second son. “Hm, you are quite fortunate to have such a lovely betrothed; it would seem the crown has favored you… I remember my first wife, Lady Royce, the bronze bitch whose sheep seemed to prove more comely than her,”

Your eyes widened at the elder prince’s words, disparaging his first wife so openly and offensively. “If my brother had provided me with a bride whose beauty was comparable to Lady Tyrell’s, perhaps there would be no need for me to leave my first wife… you are lucky, nephew,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he noticed Daemon’s eyes trail downward to your bosom that heaved ever so lightly as you were rendered uncomfortable by their topic.

You turned to your brothers, a plea in your eyes to save you from the princes you sat in between. Edward was quick to stand, “Come, sister, I shall escort you to your chambers,” He announced, and you let out a breath, Aemond standing as well to make way for you to exit, “Good night, my lady,” He bowed and boldly took your hand placed a kiss on your knuckles. A blush over, taking your cheeks as you curtsied before him, your mothers thrilled as they saw affection blooming between the two of you. 

“You looked quite uncomfortable,” Your eldest brother noted. “Is your betrothed proving to be ungallant? Must we intervene now and convince mo—“ You quickly shook our head, “No! Prince Aemond has been quite… lovely; cousin Eliza was somewhat wrong in her judgment,” You say quickly in defense of Aemond, who you had grown to deeply like the past few days. “I was just not prepared to meet a character such as the Prince Daemon,” You added, and your brother nodded in understanding; he, too, was scandalized as he heard the words uttered by the elderly prince. 

“So, you have grown to be quite… fond of your betrothed,” You bit your lip as you hear a teasing tone in his voice. You sighed and felt a smile coming to your lips. Whatever fear you had for the marriage subsided with every silent and serene moment with Aemond. “I have.” You confirmed, and your brother nodded. Placing a kiss on your temple before you enter your chambers and get ready for the night.

It has been three days since Prince Daemon’s arrival, and Aemond has been growing peeved at how his uncle would always trail you. Aemond’s new routine of spending the quiet hours of his days with you that was quick to feel like second nature, abrupted by the arrival of his uncle. There were now only scarce moments where you and Aemond were left in each other’s company and quiet, his uncle always trying to speak with you, and you could not deny him conversation, for it would be impertinent. 

It was past high noon when Aemond concluded his training with Ser Criston, his feet hastily carrying him away from the tiltyard to find you, who had frequented the gallery to play the old harp that found new life from your touch. He stood by the threshold and was quick to grow annoyed as he noticed his uncle was in your presence once more. 

“You do not speak much, do you?” He heard Daemon question, your fingers ceasing to play the instrument. “I take it upon myself to not speak unless spoken to, my prince. I do not wish to bother anyone. I know how… annoying it can be when one just simply wishes for peace and quiet, but there is an insistent noise you must attend to.” You say, and Aemond was quite surprised as he heard a slight in your comment, but his uncle did not seem to catch it. 

Aemond observed as you returned to play the harp, the melody easing whatever tension he harbored, but it was quick to return as his uncle wandered closer to you. Aemond stood rigid by the door; your back was face to him and he saw his uncle turn his head towards the door, a smirk on his lips as he stepped further into your space. Daring to take a lock of your hair in his fingers, twirling the lock. 

You tensed in your seat as you felt Prince Daemon’s finger twirl your hair. You looked at the strings of the harp wide-eyed, uncertain of what to do. 

When Aemond noticed your unmoving frame that did nothing to hinder his uncle’s actions, he removed himself from the door frame and marched back to his chambers. Whatever understanding made between the two of the past days was quickly forgotten as his cruel perceptions of your nature, he mustered before meeting you returned. 

You sat tensely at dinner that night once more, waiting for the presence of your betrothed to somewhat comfort as his uncle sat next to you again. When Aemond entered the hall, you placed your hopeful gaze upon him, but he did not turn to you, ignoring the empty seat next to you and instead to a seat in what was supposed to be the place of his uncle. 

Throughout dinner, you would peek a look at Aemond, who refused to meet your gaze. There was a prominent scowl on his face, and his demeanor held an air of indifference that strayed dangerously close to animosity. You started to wonder if the Aemond you stared upon right now was the Prince your cousin had warned you about. And perhaps the past few days spent with him was an act, a fictitiousness in him to appease his mother so the marriage would proceed. You were disheartened by the thought. 

When the following morning came, Aemond’s eye followed as you roamed the halls alone, following behind you but not close enough for you to notice your presence. You led him back to the gallery, where both of you were caught in surprise when his uncle stood in the room, waiting for you. Aemond clenched his fists, believing he was a witness in your clandestine meetings. The scandal of it! Here you are, an engaged woman meeting with a man who was old enough to be your father and was married to the King’s chosen heir!

“My prince,” you curtsied as you spotted him near the harp, having the urge to turn back around and exit the room. Uncomfortable to be alone in the Rogue Prince’s presence. “All alone? Where is your betrothed?” Daemon mused, stepping closer to you. “I— I do not know,” You said and backed away from the prince who was threading closer to your space once more. “Hm, it’s quite foolish of him to leave his lovely bride to be all alone… especially in this keep where danger always lurks,” Your lips parted at his words. Was that a threat? You thought. 

You swallowed thickly and turned to the door, wanting to make an escape but not one so obvious that it would make suspicion rise. Daemon smirked as he saw fear in your eyes; it was so easy. You were such an innocent and sheltered thing. He could smell you from leagues away, a lovely and tempting prey that a dragon could never resist. It was a shame that you were betrothed to his nephew, but perhaps that could still change. 

You gasped as you felt Prince Daemon flush your bodies; you stared at him wide-eyed as he took hold of your cheek. 

Aemond watched the scene; rage within burned bright and carelessly. He wanted to put a stop to whatever he witnessed, but he stood in wait, wanting to find evidence if this was truly how you were— promiscuous and would settle to be a whore of his uncle.

“My prince, wh—“ You panicked, trying to back away, but he held you still. “Such a pretty young thing you are… a shame that you’ll be wasted on my disfigured nephew,” You drew out all of your might and pushed away Prince Daemon, him stumbling only a few paces. You see a sinister smirk rise to his lips as he tries to close the gap between you once more, but you are quick to strike his cheek, rendering him in shock, and you take that opportunity to run out of the room and into safety. 

Aemond was hidden behind a pillar, and as you passed, he saw clearly the distress on your face and how you were on the verge of tears, rendering him guilty for not coming to your aid as he had thought you were in want of his uncle. 

Aemond saw as Daemon furiously marched out of the gallery in pursuit of you, but he was quick to step away from his hiding and face his uncle. “You dare try to sully her? Was my half-sister and your whores not enough? Must, in your old age, still prey on young innocent girls?” Aemond spat, ready to challenge his uncle in your honor. Daemon chuckled as the young prince stared at him wide-eyed. “You get ahead of yourself— they might compare you to me in my youth, but you are completely lacking of what it means to be a true Targaryen prince… you’d have to thank your cunt of a mother for that.” Daemon chuckled, and Aemond no longer hesitated to draw out his sword. 

A battle between nephew and uncle commenced in the halls; both men wielded their weapons with such authority that neither one could draw blood. Daemon was somewhat impressed by his nephew. He thought the talk he heard of Aemond was just propaganda spread by his grandsire, but it would seem that his nephew knew his way with the steel. That, however, did not deter the prince, for Aemond was still completely inexperienced when compared to him. 

One of the princes was near drawing blood when a band of Kingsguards appeared in the halls and were quick to separate the dueling princes. Daemon laughed as he was held back by the knights, his nephew still seething across from him, still ready to attack. The elderly prince brushed off the hold on his arms and laughed once more before walking away from his nephew, leaving their state as it was. 

Aemond brushed off the guards and hastily marched in search of you, wanting to make certain you were well— wanting to offer his apologies for his judgments and lack of protection over you. 

He knocked on your door, waiting on bated breath as he heard you shuffling inside. When you slowly revealed yourself, Aemond felt his stomach pit at the sight of your teary eyes that you tried to hide. “I’m sorry,” He was quick to breathe out, unable to stomach you in such a state of distress. Your brows knit together at his words, “What? My pri—“ Aemond shook his head and forced himself into your chambers. 

“I’m so sorry, my lady… I—“ Aemond repeated but you still had no clue as to what he refers to. “My uncle, he is a depraved man; I should have protected you from him.” He explained as he saw confusion in your face. Your eyes widened at his statement, “You saw us?” You asked in fear that he would think you were tarnished. “I have, and I… I should have come to your aid, but instead, my mind cruelly thought you were in want of him; I apologize, my lady.” It felt foreign for Aemond to apologize, but it seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly for you. He would never have fathom to encounter someone or the day that he would apologize earnestly, ready to beg for forgiveness. 

“No… my prince, you need not apologize; it was not your doing,” you said, but Prince Aemond stubbornly shook his head. “It is my duty to protect you— to defend my lady wife.” You bit your tongue as he referred to you with such a title. It felt surreal… and you must admit it brought a stir in you that you quite liked. 

You and Aemond were in silence once more, the silence both of you had gotten used to, the silence within each other that you both craved. The serene silence that could only be provided by each other. “Will you still… still have me? Even after my transgression?” Aemond dared ask, not wanting to live in the hope that there would still be a way that you would be his. Surely, you would be deterred to take him as your husband, for he could not even defend you with such a threat. Aemond studied your face, his knees growing weak as a smile spread across your lips. “I still want you, my prince,” You admitted, heat blooming in your cheeks as you said the words. Aemond could not help but cup your cheek, wanting to feel the warmth of them as they flushed with color before him. 

“I must admit… I was dreading to meet you,” He said quietly, and he felt you nod. “I, as well… I was greatly warned that we might not see eye to eye.” You admitted. Aemond hummed and brushed his thumb across your soft skin, your bodies threading closer and closer. “I do not believe I would ever want someone as much as I want you,” Aemond confessed, his voice so low that if you had not felt his breath fanning your skin, you would think you had imagined his words. “I never thought anyone would understand me in the way that you do, my prince,” You breathed out as his face threaded closer to yours, his eye on your lips as you spoke. 

“You’re mine… say it, my darling.” Your eyes fluttered closed at his words. “I’m all yours,” Quickly after you uttered the words, you feel his lips upon yours. A kiss filled with longing— impatience. A kiss that was long overdue, for how could either of you live for years without knowing each other? How could Aemond try to ignore your existence, and how could you try to deny this marriage? It was set the day you were born. You two were simply destined for one another. 

As your lips parted, you smiled before your soon-to-be-husband. Aemond hummed in contentment and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, inhaling your intoxicating scent deeply. “Shall we tell our mothers that they shall prepare for our wedding, then?” Aemond smiled, and you let out a quiet laugh as you nodded, letting him hold you. “And urge them to make haste,” Aemond’s eye twinkled with amusement as he dipped down to capture your lips once more. 

A fortnight had barely passed before you and Aemond uttered your vows before the gods—an intimate wedding commenced, as you both requested. And it was followed by a family dinner after. Aemond was impatient, as were you, but you and he waited for the meal to end; for the past days, there was a need greatly bubbling inside him, having trouble finding restrtaint and contentment with just stolen kisses and touches. 

When it was finally night, Aemond led you to his chambers, you already flushing in anticipation of what was to come. When he led you to your shared chambers, you were met by something covered in a white cloth. You frowned and turned to your husband, who simply smiled and closed the door behind you. “It’s a gift for you.” He said and stood before it. You stepped closer as he urged you to uncover what he had given, though you already had a sneaking feeling as to what it was. 

Aemond watched with his heart in his eye as you beamed before him as you uncovered what he had given— a harp. Newer and grander than the one in the gallery, the body was plated with gold, and delicate carvings of flowers scattered its body. You bit your lip and step towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips agaisnt his. “Thank you… I love it,” you said gratefully as your lips parted. Aemond simply hummed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were to exchange gifts… I could’ve gotten something,” You then say, fretting he would take offense. 

Aemond shook his head. “You already have given me your hand; you are my wife. What more could I want?” Those words uttered, and the certainty in Aemond only made you melt further. He intertwined your lips once more, but the kiss shared held something wholly different from the ones shared before; it was urgent, filled with longing and desires that were greatly suppressed. 

You feel breathless, but at the same time, you make no move to part your lips. You feel him lead you to the feathered bed, his hands on your waist as he sits you gently upon the cushion. You blushed as you felt his fingers hover at the bodice of your dress, itching to undo the laces, but there was trepidation in him. You bit the insides of your cheeks and took the initiative to do it yourself. Aemond sucked in a deep breath as your dress fell before him, revealing yourself only dressed in your shift. 

Aemond fell on his knees before you, moving his hand to cup your cheek and the other to undress you further. He heard a moan escape your lips as he nipped your bottom lip. His cold hand cupped your breast that pebbled before his touch. You mewled his name as he parted your lips, your hands finding the buttons of his leather tunic. 

You ran your hands through his smooth, chiseled chest and Aemond felt chills running down his spine at the feel of your hands on his skin. You let out a breath as you feel your husband lay you down, his weight atop you, his weeping length aligned with your glistening entrance. You sighed as you felt his finger tease your folds, Aemond resting his forehead up your shoulder as he felt your arousal. “You’re all mine, my darling,” Aemond breathed out against your lips and swallowed your whines as his length penetrated you.

Aemond groaned at the sheer feel of you clenching around him. Pleasure and guilt swirled within him as he saw your face contorted in pain, kissing away your tears as you acclimatized yourself with his length. He truly thought himself indifferent in the ways of pleasure, only succumbing to it occasionally when even he could not suffice his lust— but now, he was certain he knew what the fuss was all about when it came to fucking. He had only a taste of you, but he was certain he was addicted. It took a moment before your whines of pain turned into whimpers of pleasure, your husband breathing heavily as you urged him to speed up his pace, but Aemond was conscious not to break and hurt you further. 

“Aemond, please… I wa— need more,” You breathed as Aemond’s thrusts were cautious. He bit his lip and sped up his pace ever so lightly, but that was not enough for you. With your legs circling his waist, you shifted your weight and placed yourself atop your husband. Aemond was rendered stunned by your actions, only watching in awe as you bounced upon his cock whilst you straddled his waist. He never thought you’d have it in you, but he supposed it was always the quiet ones who would be capable of the unexpected. 

“You were so quiet the days before, little wife… but look at you now— your moans could be heard throughout the castle.” Aemond hummed, and his hands found home on your waist, assisting you as you writhed against his length. Your hands were planted on his chest as your hips worked against his in search of friction. “Husband, please,” you pleaded, knowing you would not come to what you searched for without his assistance. Aemond smirked and moved his hands to cup your behind and lifted his hips to thrust deeper and harsher into you. 

“Yes… yes, gods, Aemond!” You cried as you heard him groan at how you scratched his chest, leaving imprints of your hands upon his skin. “Are you to come, my darling? Is my little wife to come at my cock?” He hissed as he felt his own release coming. His hands traveled your frame, cupping your tits and moving his head to take one into the cavern of his mouth. You nodded, your head that was tilted to the heavens, your back arched, and your husband’s name slipping your lips as you came undone. You hear him call out your name as he spills his seed deep in your cunt, your heavy breathings mixed as you collapse atop him, his lips finding yours once more. 

“You truly are made for me,” he whispered against your lips. Feeling a surge of new and overwhelming emotions that you could not yet utter, all you could do was kiss his lips once more and bask in the presence of the man who had been bound to you the moment you were born. 

[i-smoke-chapstick]

saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.

He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.

Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.

His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.

A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."

A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.

Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.

"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"

He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.

Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.

"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.

Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.

It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.

That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.

We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.

"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her… you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.

She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.

When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.

She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.

This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.

"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"

Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.

Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.

"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.

That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.

"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."

Yeah, he means business.

Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."

Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.

He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.

"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.

You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.

Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.

At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.

If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.

That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.

Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.

She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.

“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."

It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.

Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.

Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.

A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.

“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”

It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.

It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.

Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.

And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'

When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.

"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.

He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.

If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.

"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'

Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.

While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.

Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.

In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.

He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.

Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.

He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.

If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.

"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.

Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.

But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.

By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.

We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.

"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.

Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.

You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.

At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)

As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.

"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."

These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.

This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.

"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"

If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.

When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.

He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.

Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.

"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.

But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.

He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.

It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.

In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.

I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.

When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.

"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.

He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.

You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.

If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.

"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."

He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.

In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.

When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.

He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.

"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."

Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.

Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.

"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.

It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.

No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.

Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."

Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.

He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.

He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.

He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.

"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."

And he plans to show you that he's right.

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.

She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.

I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.

Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.

A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.

Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.

"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."

It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.

If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.

Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.

"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.

He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.

If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.

He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.

And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.

Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.

"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"

Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.

He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.

"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.

He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.

He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.

He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...

He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.

"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.

He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.

"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight mood board Prince Aemond x Elinora Tyrell

Summary: They were polar opposites. She was light, and he was the darkness that followed. She had kindness exuding from her whole being, and he was cruelty personified. She was a butterfly, and he was her dragon— two beings that have nothing in common only because one had never encountered the other… not until Lady Elinora Tyrell met Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine Trope, Forbbiden Romance, Posseivness, Jealousy, Bullying, Violence, Mature (18+)

Masterlist: Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4

A/N: New story alert! This story has been in my drafts for a while, and I just had the sudden urge to share it, so... here we are! This story is more cannon-oriented and possibly darker (idk not sure) than the previous stories I've written, and I think it would have fewer chapters because I intend for it to be a novella, but even though it's shorter in chapters, it's quite lengthy when it comes to each upload. I hope you guys will like it!

[getyouanearthygirl]

Game of Thrones House Aesthetics:

House Stark 🐺

House Lannister 🦁

House Arryn 🪽

House Tyrell 🌹

House Martell ☀️

House Baratheon 🦌

House Tully 🐟

House Targaryen 🐉

House Greyjoy 🦑

[baelarys]

Could you take a shot of aegon x Tyrell? Where she is married to some reach gentleman and ends up having an affair with aegon and resulting in a pregnancy. And when the baby is born and everyone sees that he is platinum, oc's husband freaks out and questions aegon who answers with sarcasm that he may have a dragonrider son and does not like his wife

✾𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞✾

Aegon ii targaryen x Reader Tyrell

word count :990

Warning : Infidelity, pregnancy, bad words , anguts.

It had not stopped raining since morning, and your screams echoed in the room, accompanying the constant rhythm of the rain. You paced back and forth, trying to mitigate the intense pain that came in relentless waves. The midwives followed you, advising you to lie down, but you pushed them away.

You prayed to the gods fervently, begging for their mercy and to help the baby be born healthy. Your red hair stuck to your sweat-beaded forehead, while tears of desperation and effort ran down your cheeks. As you walked, resting a hand on your bulging belly, you felt a sudden release of fluids that soaked the floor of the room.

The pain was unbearable, but it was all worth it when the midwives finally placed the newborn on your chest. You noticed the thin layer of platinum hair that covered his head, an unmistakable feature, but at the time you didn't care. You kissed your son's head as happy tears fell down your cheeks. The baby was crying loudly, his little fists clenched

Your husband entered the room looking with amazement and horror at the newborn he was holding in your arms, before he could say anything you stopped him.

"Luthor, please" you begged with a trembling voice, your eyes filling with tears "This is our son. I beg you to accept it."

The knight stood still, his fists clenched and his face hardened with anger and betrayal. "Don't do it for me… do it for him" you said, holding the newborn into his arms.

Luthor hesitated, his gaze moving from the baby's serene face to your pleading eyes. The room was filled with tension, the air thick with the mix of emotions and the distant sound of the rain that continued to hit the windows. Finally, with a mixture of resignation and hopelessness, he reached out and took the child.

You spent the next few days in your chambers, surrounded only by your husband, a few midwives, and little Edmund. No one else had seen the newborn. His platinum hair and brown eyes, just like yours, looked around with endless curiosity.

You and Luthor didn't discuss the topic of the baby's paternity, and you both decided not to mention it to anyone. However, it was not surprising that rumors were already spreading in the corridors from the rats of the Red Keep. The gossip spread like a slow fire, and even if it wasn't openly discussed, you knew that many eyes were on your family.

It wasn't until a heated argument between Prince Aegon and your husband that Lord Tyrell burst into your room, his face burning with fury, declaring that they would return to Highgarden. You were surprised, since you had come to King's Landing on court business and you did not expect such a hasty return.

"Prepare your things, we leave at dawn" Luthor ordered, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. His eyes flashed with a mix of pain and determination that disturbed you deeply.

You tried to stay calm as you processed his words. "What happened? ,Why are we coming back so soon?" you asked softly, although you already knew the answer, Luthor strode over, his face grim and his fists still clenched.

"Aegon" he began in a harsh voice. "He had the audacity to say that you should be grateful to have fathered the son of a dragon rider" That insolence was the last straw.

The air became thick and heavy in the room. You instantly understood the impact of those words on your husband. The humiliation and betrayal had been too much for him, and Aegon, with his arrogance, had pushed Luthor over the edge.

"Luthor" you said, trying to reach for his hand to offer comfort, but he jerked away, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"There is nothing more to discuss" he replied in a sharp voice. "Highgarden is our home, far from the viperous tongues and inquisitive eyes of this rotten court."

You sighed, resigned. You knew that insisting would only make things worse. As you prepared to leave, your mind was filled with worries about the future. How would you face life in Highgarden with the stigma of infidelity and the birth of Edmund? However, the innocence of your son and his future were your main concern.

While leaving King's Landing meant escaping immediate scrutiny, it also meant facing suspicion and judgment in the Tyrell ancestral home.

You decided to take one last walk through the halls of the Red Keep before leaving. You wanted to record in your memory every corner, every detail of that place that had witnessed your most intense and complex moments. With every step, you felt the weight of the decisions made and the consequences you would face upon returning to Highgarden.

You turned into a hallway and suddenly, someone slammed you against the wall, holding you firmly by the waist. The impact left you momentarily breathless and before you could react, you felt lips smash against yours in a rough and messy manner.

Your first instinct was to resist, but the unmistakable platinum hair and the intensity of his gaze piercing you confirmed it was Aegon.

The force of his kiss spoke of desperation and desire, an attempt to hold on to something he knew he was about to lose.

"Aegon" you tried to say between their kisses, but he didn't let you finish, his mouth covering yours again, silencing any protests. His hands gripped your waist with palpable need, as if he could prevent your departure with his touch.

Finally, you managed to pull away slightly, panting with the effort. "I have to go" you whispered, your words barely audible as you tried to regain your composure.

"I can't let you go like this" Aegon rasped, his forehead resting against yours. —You know this isn't fair, that I need you here.

"I can't stay here anymore" you whispered, barely containing the emotion in your voice. You felt Aegon bury his face in your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy and desperate kisses over your skin.

"Don't say that" Aegon murmured against your neck, his voice vibrating with a mix of sadness and desire. His hands gripped your waist tightly, as if his touch could prevent the inevitable.

"I must go" you insisted softly, trying to remain firm in your decision. You felt his lips move slowly over your skin, his kisses leaving a burning trail that contrasted with the cold of the stone behind your back

Aegon pulled away slightly, his intense gaze searching yours. "Is this really what you want?" he asked with a voice heavy with pain. "Leave everything we've had here?"

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's not a matter of wanting" you finally said. "It's what I should do for my family. I can't continue living in this chaos"

You pulled away from Aegon gently, leaving one last kiss on his lips. "See you, my prince" you whispered, saying goodbye with a mixture of resignation and a spark of amusement in your eyes.

You turned around and started walking down the hallway, feeling his gaze on your back. Each step towards the exit of the Red Keep felt lighter than the last. You had decided to face the future with a more optimistic attitude, knowing that this farewell was necessary.

[xeno1queen]

Growing Strong With The Dragon - Part I

Aemond Targareyen x Tyrell!Reader Summary: A lonely princess finds herself betrothed to a cold prince. Warnings: No warnings, just a chill introduction. No character description. Afab. Authors Note: First time writing a fanfic so I’m just putting into words the things I’ve been thinking. Don't really care about "historical" inaccuracies. English is not my first language so the grammar might be a bit janked.

You have been alone most of your life, your only company being your ladies in waiting and your mother. You had a brother and a dad, but both of them seemed to have no interest in you.

You much prefer the company of books and nature in the Highgarden gardens.

You've heard the news in the capital and you're wondering which side your father will choose as the lord of Highgarden. You don't really care which side he picks, as you are not told much about the war because "Ladies should not worry their heads about unfit matters," said your father, but you do indeed worry.

A couple of days had passed since you first heard the news of the war, and the Greens were already looking for allies. They placed that task on the shoulders of their only unmarried heir. A bold choice, but no one would dare touch the prince in the presence of his dragon. The prince has already gone to Storm's End in search of a betrothed, but the exchange ended badly with the killing of Prince Lucerys Valaryon.

His second option was going to Highgarden. Your father hasn't chosen a side yet, so a marriage proposal to such an important family could help in his decision.

Within two days, the prince arrived at your doorstep. Your lavish father decided that he was to be welcomed with a feast, even though it was just meant to be a quick trip to ask for your hand in marriage. Your father spared no expense at the visit of such an important prince. He wasn't afraid to show the power of House Tyrell, owning the most fertile fields in Westeros means lots of money for your family.

During the feast, the prince was not really impressed by the food, as during the reign of his father, the banquets were not few. However, he sure was impressed by how you behaved yourself.

You’ve always been shy. During the whole banquet, you could mostly only look at your plate and, the few times you looked at him, you noticed he was already looking at you, which made you flinch and blush.

While feasting, your father and the prince talked about war and his marriage proposal, which of course your father accepted swiftly. Having his daughter marry the most powerful family in Westeros was a blessing to him, even if it came with the condition of having to send his men to die in a war they shouldn’t be participating in.

You know you were only getting married to the prince for political reasons, yet you wondered if such a beautiful man could eventually fall for you. You weren’t ugly yourself, just a bit “socially awkward,” yet he didn’t look at you with disgust. He looked at you with intrigue.

Once the banquet was finished, Prince Aemond locked eyes with you and returned to King's Landing. You felt like stone after that intense eye contact, as if his only eye had turned you into a statue.

That night, you felt all the anxiety from the feast hit you, and the anticipation of a long journey to marry the most beautiful man in Westeros made you lay sleepless all night. Would he be kind? Or would he be a cold monster who would only use you to make heirs? Those questions did not leave your mind all night. You just hoped he wouldn’t treat you badly.

[darkestspring]

i wanted darkness, i wanted him.

summary: once he had laid his eyes on the lady tyrell, how could he ever want for another? You melted his heart, so now you must take responsibility for it. you will be embedded in his bones for all eternity.

word count: a little over 3.4k words. my longest piece!

a/n: alright second attempt at writing this! this has been a work in progress for a while and i’m finally going to finish it! this is more or less a greek gods au with hades! aemond and persephone! tyrell reader. this has been such a fun project, im obsessed with greek mythology so! i recommend listening to persephone by tamino to set the mood, its what i listened to writing this. just a reminder, my requests are still open

warnings: aemond gets a little bit obsessive, slight yandere themes.

taglist: @gulnarsultan​ @dehnablume (would not let me tag!), @azaleapotterblack (would not let me tag either), @jiminie-08​, @weepingwitchofthewest​

You had never been outside of highgarden, even as you were now nine and ten name days. It was your duty to stay there and tend to the plants, you had convinced yourself. Maybe you were just scared of what the outside world had to offer.

You despised cocky lords and entitled ladies, you were content here as you tended to your prized garden, you were content to keep your mother and your handmaiden, Arisa, company. Your mother kept you close regardless, sending away men and curious ladies from your company.

You stared down at the blooming flowers with a smile on your face as you watered them. “Grow strong and healthy.” You whispered to them gently.

“My, my. The goddess of spring strikes again.” Your mother teased you, taking the water canister from your hands as you pouted at her, turning away.

It was a silly name, ‘the goddess of spring’, they had even given you a nickname.

Kore. A nickname meaning maiden. A innocent maiden always with her duties and her flowers. In charge of bringing spring to highgarden. It was silly.

“Do not say that, mother.” You remained turned away, conflict haunting you. You didn’t wish to remain Kore forever, you wished to be more. “It is my duty, you have told me many times.”

“What you do is a work of art, my flower.” Your mother spoke softly, hand cupping your cheek as she smiled at you adoringly. “But it is not highgarden that needs you at the moment.” She sounded displeased at that. “I must leave to King’s Landing in the morrow, you are to come with me.”

Your eyes glimmered with curiosity that your mother refused to sate. Why were you coming with her? Why now? What could there be for you?

You were so excited that you could not find it in yourself to sleep. Was the capital as beautiful as highgarden? You dreaded the people that resided there. What if the queen and the princess hated you? Your mother had seemed displeased.

She was displeased, she was very displeased and irritated. She could not refused her cousin, Queen Alicent’s request to meet you but her daughter? Her daughter who brought spring with a brush of her fingertips? Hades resided there, as her son.

Hades is what they called Prince Aemond, rumors spread of how he spread death as easily as he breathed. His dragon, the ancient vhagar, had been responsible for many deaths. He was called the god of the dead, in contrast to her beloved daughter’s goddess of spring title.

Morning had not come easily and both ladies had not slept a single wink, finding easy sleep in the carriage they took, not that either knew.

King’s Landing was pretty, you thought but lacking true beauty. The same beauty you found in flowers and the fruits that grew all around you.

“Cousin.” Queen Alicent had greeted Lady Tyrell with a big smile, her hands linked together. She had never been close with her cousin as she was always here but they needed support more than ever. Alicent was determined to succeed above all foes.

Lady Tyrell did not outwardly react, she only bowed deeply to her cousin, shielding you from view. Prince Aemond wasn’t there, that was one big relief to her. “My Queen.” She greeted, reaching behind to reveal her daughter. “At your request, I brought my daughter.” Her voice made her displeasure noticeable.

Alicent was enamored by you immediately upon seeing you. Your hair was decorated with flowers. You were a soft looking girl. Perfect for her Aemond, he needed soft but her cousin would never allow this, she would have to go over everyone else.

You curtsied lowly for the queen, too nervous to even look at her for fear of messing up as you tucked a strand of dark hair behind your ear. “I am pleased to greet the queen.”

Your voice was even soft, almost melodic. You were a true lady, what a maiden should be.

Her cousin’s long staring irritated the Lady Tyrell who cleared her throat, her hand resting on her daughter’s back. “Will her majesty excuse my daughter, she need not be present for our discussion.”

Alicent knew that if she wanted to, she could have commanded the young tyrell to stay but she needed time to plan, so she agreed with a smile. “There is a beautiful harden here. I am sure you’ll enjoy it.” She smiled at you sweetly and you took that as your queue.

“Wait for me there, my sweet.” Your mother brushed hair from your fade before walking away with Alicent.

You wandered for a while, almost lost before you came upon flowers. It was wonderful. Flowers, and threes and shrubbery. Fruits and greenery. It was peaceful.

You choose a spot under a tree after you had finished gathering flowers and sat so that you could work on making flower crowns.

It had been another exhausting day for Prince Aemond. More training, more studying, more running after his idiotic older brother to ensure that he did not dishonor their mother or sister. All he wished was to for once to have to clean up the messes his older brother made.

He had been walking past the gardens to seek solitude in his private study before a soft voice caught his attention.

He had met many ladies, and yet none had caught his attention this quickly. It was his duty to marry but none dares to approach, the rumors of his nickname the courts gave him spread far and wide.

“-If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do about anything, I would even learn how to love.” Your voice rang out softly, your soft pink dress flowing around you as you weaved flowers together absentmindedly.

Aemond had never seen anyone like you. None of the ladies could compare to how you look before his eye. You were like the flowers that existed around you, soft, sweet, beautiful.

Aemond stood there, stunned, as he watched you with a feeling akin to the one he felt with vhagar filling him. Exhilaration, pride, possessiveness. He wanted to hear your voice forever, he wanted to see your eyes on him, he wanted for you to be as obsessed with him as he already was with you.

A twig snapped under his foot and your head snapped over to the sound as a single purple eye connected with warm hazel ones.

You stared at him like a startled deer before you scrambled up, dropping the half finished flower crown as you hid behind the giant apple tree. You held a hand to your chest as your heart raced

Aemond couldn’t help but find you adorable but he quickly tried to calm you down. “I am sorry, I startled you.” His voice was deep as he tried to restrain his excitement. He had found you, the girl he wanted to make his wife. His father had been making a fuss for him to be married, this would solve all problems would it not? “I’m-” he couldn’t tell you his name just yet, not until everything was final. “I’m Hades.”

You peered out from behind the tree to gaze at him with caution. Hades, that name sounded familiar. “I’m Kore.” You had refrained from giving your name out of embarrassment. Your mother would surely scold you if she knew the truth.

“I am deeply sorry for startling you, fair maiden.” Aemond hoped he didn’t sound awkward or too excited. Kore did not fit you at all, would not do justice to just how brightly you shined in his eyes.

He cursed Lucerys Velaryon for taking his eye, for keeping him from having two eyes to gaze at you with, to admire your beauty with. You were truly a goddess among mortals, fitting of every title you could possess.

You suddenly felt childish, hiding behind the tree from him, and you moved yourself out from behind it, your hands clasped together in front of him.

Aemond couldn’t help but admire kore with his darkened purple eye. From your hair, dark and luscious, decorated with all kinds of flowers. To your dress, a pale pink that gave Aemond the sense of innocence, something he couldn’t help but wish to ruin, wish to see your reddened face as he kissed and worshipped you as you deserved.

You felt unnerved as he seemed to study you with a look you couldn’t decipher, it made you all the more nervous.

Aemond had come to realize that he had spent too much of his time with you and sought to retreat so that he might ready his request to his father. “I anticipate our next meeting, my lady.”

No, Kore did not suit you at all. Aemond concluded as he walked away and left you to stare after him with a tilted head and flower crown forgotten.

Just as he could not leave your mind, you did not leave his. Aemond thought of you constantly. He knew very little of you but still you managed to capture him in a way no one else had.

You had chosen to not tell your mother of the encounter, knowing how she worried for you with men. You knew she could be a little overbearing but she only meant well, so you kept it to yourself but Hades was carved into your memories.

You found yourself anticipating your next meeting as you remained in the red keep for longer, at the request of the queen. You spent most of your time in the gardens, hopeful of meeting him once again. To your knowledge, he never came.

But then again, Aemond made sure to stay out of sight when he watched you in your peace in the gardens. He couldn’t bring himself to ruin your peace, so he watched you.

Most would call it stalk but he had no ill intent on you, he wished to make you his bride. He wished to bury himself in your bones and always feel the way he did when he was with you. You brought him peace.

That’s why he brought it up to his father and mother. “Please allow me to marry Lady Tyrell’s daughter.” He stood in front of his parents with his request and refused to show his irritation at their shock.

Aemond was not known for enjoying the companies of ladies as Aegon was renown for. Aemond preferred the quiet library and his practices with Ser Cole too much to do other things.

It did not shock Alicent too much, she had hoped that he would take to her cousin’s daughter but where had he met her and why did such darkness exist in his eyes? She brushed it off easily and smiled at her son. “Of course, you may take her as your bride.”

Viserys nodded along with his wife, still sluggish from his medicine as he leaned into his wife. “Yes, it is time for you to have a wife, my son.”

Aemond was satisfied as his wish was granted and he nodded to his mother before stalking away. Lady Tyrell was notorious for her protectiveness over her daughter, if he was to marry the lady he wanted, it must be done quickly and in secret. He won’t allow this wish to be denied.

Aemond, in the middle of making his way to his room, turned the other way to make his way towards the garden where undoubtedly you were. His rage, always just simmering under the surface in him, seemed to calm once he saw you.

“Oh Hades!” You gasped in surprise as you saw him making his way towards you and you smiled at him, holding a finished flower crown in your hands. “We meet again, at last.” You giggled softly, the sound sending his heart soaring.

“Indeed, we do.” Aemond held his hand out for you and you smiled at his once more before placing a hand in his. Aemond lifting your hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “I’m honored to see you once more.”

Warmth filled you at his actions and your cheeks turned red. “I’m happy you’re here.” You reached up with your free hand and placed the flower crown on his head. “It’s a perfect fit!”

Aemond blinked in astonishment for a few seconds before letting go of your hand and humming. “It is.” He knows he should have told you of his intent to marry you, to take you as his wife in the way of Valyria, but instead all he said was. “Come take a ride with me on my dragon.”

You had already known he was a targaryen, it was very obvious to everyone who had eyes but you had never seen a dragon before. They both mesmerized and terrified you. “Will it be safe?” You asked him, furrowing your brows.

“You will always be safe with me.” He assured you and you nodded, still filled with caution as you allowed him to take your hand.

The corridors were empty, not a servant in sight. It confused you, you had always seen them. You brushed it off easily as Aemond guided you to a nearby place by the sea, and there laid a dragon.

Aemond whispered to Vhagar quietly in High Valyrian for a few moments before turning back to you and guiding you forwards. He let go of your hand only to guide it along Vhagar’s scales gently.

“It’s.... warm.” You murmured, taken aback by not only the size but also the warmth. “Your dragon is so... beautiful.”

Vhagar seemed to huff out smoke at that and Aemond laughed quietly. “Yes, she is. Come, I’ll help you up.” Aemond helped you climb onto her back and secured you in tightly before situating himself behind you and securing himself. “Vhagar, Soves!” He commanded and a gasp came for you as she launched herself up.

Dragonstone wasn’t far away, a short flight and when Vhagar landed, Aemond was certain his sister and uncle already knew he was there but he didn’t care about them. All he cared about was marrying his lady.

“How do you feel?” He asked as he helped you down from his dragon. Your feet trembled with pain as you landed on the ground.

“It was exhilarating but it was also a little scary being so high up.” You spoke before looking around. “Where are we?”

“Dragonstone.” He answered you, reaching for you hand. “I must admit to you, I have deceived you somewhat.”

You blinked at him before tilting your head at him in confusion. “Deceived me in what?”

“I didn’t just bring you here to sight see, i brought you here with then intention kf marry you.” Aemond looked at you with the slightest bit of guilt. “You haunt my dreams, even awake you never leave my mind. Since our meeting, I have never felt such peace in my life.” Aemond breathes, like he had just lifted a weight from himself. “Please, I beg of you, have mercy on me.”

His confession struck you like no one ever had and she stared at him with a parted mouth as he sunk down on his knees. “Please do not do that.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them as you reached out for him. “If you plead with me in such ways, how am I to resist the temptation of carving my name into your heart so that you may always remember me.”

In all of you memories, you were always alone, or with only three people by your side. You had never been aloowed to see the world outside your home, you had never been able to have friends or even meet other ladies. No one had ever treated you with the kindness that he had. Of course, you thought it was all too fast, too much but had you not craved for this? To stop being Kore, a sweet maiden, the only child of Lord and Lady Tyrell. Had you not wanted him?

“I will always remember you, how could I ever forget a person like you?” Aemond wanted to press himself against you, he wanted to live in your bones, to be one with you, so that he might always bathe in your gaze.

If he always spoke such words to you, how would you ever cease to love him?

The kindness that he spoke to you with was nonexistent as he spoke to the septon, demanding that he wished to marry you. They had agreed to his wishes as he held your hand.

You didn’t wince as he cut your lip gently with dragonglass. The septon guided you on what to write on Aemond’s forehead and you followed with gentleness. Your blood mingled together and you held bloodied hands together.

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” Aemond murmured to you softly as the ceremony ended with him kissing you, his free hand clasping at your cheek.

Once he pulled away from you, you could identify the look in his eyes. Devotion. Triumph. Darkness.

All your life, maybe this is what you had wanted. Freedom, Darkness, Love. Him.

“Kore never fit you at all, my Persephone.” Aemond had whispered into your hear and you had shivered with delight.

It had been nearly a month after your wedding to Aemond that a letter came addressed to you. It was from your mother, you could tell by the handwriting.

“Darling, what is it?” Aemond sat up from beside you in bed as he sensed your distress.

Three days after the ceremony, you and Aemond had returned to King’s Landing. It had been chaos, Alicent was happy for the both of you but your mother had returned to Highgarden and refused to continue the alliance with the Targaryens and Hightowers until her daughter was returned but you were now married.

“It’s from my mother.” You handed him the letter as you rubbed at your face to lessen your tears. “She had cut off the Hightowers and King’s Landing until I am returned to her.”

Aemond placed the letter on the nightstand before moving closer to you and comforting you. “She will not take my wife from me.” He spoke like a promise as he wrapped his arms around you. “We were up all last night, you need sleep, sweet girl.”

“How can I sleep when things are as they are. My mother believes you kidnapped me and forced me to marry you, she doesn’t know the reality of it.” You frowned at him, pressing your hand to his face, thumb tracing his scar gently. “I have to tell her the truth.”

Bards and Poets have already spun the tale of Aemond forcing his will on you. Persephone’s kidnapping. You grow tired to seeing it. No one knew that you had wanted him too.

“We know the truth, my love.” His words were soft as he closed his eye and leaned into your touch. “We could not live without each other, I went against everyone’s wishes to marry you in Valyrian tradition because I knew your mother would never allow me to have you. You have brought me peace, for that I will never feel guilty.”

Your face was soft as you pondered over how to solve this matter. How to bring peace to everyone involved.

it was a week before your mother came to you as you were sitting in thr same garden you had met Aemond in.

“My sweet girl.” She murmured, tears in her eyes as she hugged you close. “What has that man done to you?”

“Nothing I did not want.” You smiled at her, you were now dressed in black instead of the light colors from before. “Mother, I was not kidnapped by him.”

Your mother did not say anything in return as she sat down, she could tell there was more you wanted to say. She always knew but still, she wanted to cling to you for a little longer.

“I asked him for it. For the blood, for the rust, for the sin. I did not want the pearls that other girls talked about, or the fine marble of palaces, or even the roses in the mouths of servants.” You looked at her with a pleading look, begging her to understand.

“I wanted pomegranates, I wanted darkness, I wanted him.”

You would never regret that.

[gulnarsultan]

Your son Aemond is being bullied and you comfort him.

Queen : My dear son.  Please don't be upset.

Aemond : He's making fun of me.  He tried to give me a pig.

Queen : Me and your father will fix this.  You are a Targaryen.  No one can change that.

Aemond : Thank you, mom.

[kingslayerssword]

Raion, 19. Born and raised in the Netherlands! :)

Follow my TikTok!! @syraxscales

I have severe writers block at the moment but once I get out of it I swear I will write 🫶

I plan to write for HOTD, GOT, and many other works of fiction.

I’m neutral when it comes to HOTD, I’m neither team black or green but I definitely do have favorite characters 😭

Anyways, pls be nice :)

[eraenaa]

Unexpected Affections

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince. 

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, ¿Simp Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Overstimulation, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 7,287

A/N: Really milking softer Aemond bc I'm pretty sure I'm going to take a break from him once s2 is released.

He’s broken beyond repair. Too far gone to be saved. Aemond knew fully well that is how the others see him. The boy who had his eye taken was never the same. Darkness was his only solace, the walls too far up that no one dared to scale it and reach the true him— simply taking the dark and villainous scrap of his true self that he was willing to give. All seemed to give up on him— simply let him drown in his darkness, except you. 

Like all things good, you came unexpectedly. You were a mere visitor from Highgarden, a noble lady who came with your lord father as he tended to business in the capitol. Aemond could never understand how you looked at everything and everyone with rose-colored glasses, but he supposed he should be grateful because if that trusting naivety in you were lost, your light would never come close to his looming darkness. 

“Who is that?” Aemond asked his family’s most trusted knight, Ser Criston Cole. Your figure caught his attention; it was as if you were floating along the gardens of his home. A small smile on your face and flowers adorned in your hair. He stood near the balcony, discussing important business with the knight, when his train of thought was lost and captured by your mere presence. “Lady Tyrell, her father has business here with the crown,” the knight said absentmindedly. Aemond nodded and took one last glance at you before walking away. 

The thought of you was quickly forgotten by the prince. He saw your presence as just another to add to the list of nobles at court who cowered upon his stature. However, you lingered in the back of his mind as he often saw glimpses of you walking through the halls of his home. Aemond stood in the gardens once more, this time waiting for his sister and her children when he caught your eyes. He waited for fear and apprehension to present themself in your orbs, the same reactions he would elicit from everyone. However, the prince was taken aback as you smiled at him. A small, respectable smile before you stole your eyes and continued to your promenading.

Aemond blinked his eye rapidly, trying to discern if he saw correctly or if it was a cruel trick made by his impaired vision. Aemond pursed his lips as he felt himself walk towards where you had passed. There was this odd pull about you— more than your beauty; if it was just that, a comely face was never one to put the prince in a trance. It was an ethereal element that beguiled Aemond quickly. He had not even spoken to you, yet you had already managed to put such an effect on him. 

He watched from a distance as you bent down and assessed a flower, your fingers caressing the velvety petal and bringing it to your nose to discern the fragrance of it. Aemond felt that pull once more, his feet carrying him closer to you. When you stood straight, your brows raised in surprise as you had noticed you were no longer alone. “My prince,” You greeted with a curtsy, his silvery locks the warning sign that you spoke to royalty. Aemond was rendered silent, his mind already spinning at the sound of your voice. What was this? He could not explain what had overcome him. You bit your lip as no greeting left the prince’s lips, him only staring at you with an unreadable expression on his angular face. “Are… are you well, my prince?” You asked, daring to step closer and take hold of his arm to examine if he was truly well. 

You watched as his lips parted and closed, no sound leaving it. “Perhaps you should find some shade; the heat may be too unbearable,” You say quietly and never take your hold off his arm, guiding him towards the shade of a willow tree in concern. Aemond was screaming at himself on the inside, hating that he was making a fool of himself, that he couldn’t even speak, simply letting you guide him towards the shade and making him sit on a bench. Your concern for his well-being consumes your face and his being. “Do you wish for refreshment, perhaps w—“ Aemond shook his head as he finally regained his senses. 

You chewed on your cheek as the prince stood. “I am fine; I apologize for the— the intrusion, Lady Tyrell,” He said stoically, and you shook your head and smiled at him. “No need for apologies, my prince; no intrusion was made. But are you certain that you are well… you look a bit pale, my prince.” You say and quickly regret it as your mind reminds you that maybe that was just his true complexion. You swallowed thickly as you saw him pursed his lips, fearing that you had offended the prince. Aemond did not know how to take this concern— this kindness that he was never the receiver of. “I am quite well; good day, my lady.” He walked away in haste as he feared that if he stayed longer in your presence, he would make a further fool of himself. You stood there in confusion; your lips parted as the prince almost ran from you. 

The thought of you haunted Aemond until the night, his arm still tingling from where you had placed your touch. He replayed the scene in his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself that your concern was fictitious— that it was a ploy to be in the good graces of the prince. But as he recalled the way your eyes bore into his, nothing but sincerity was evident in your orbs. How are you this kind? To a stranger, no less. Aemond was restless as he lay in his bed; his mind kept conjuring your interaction in the gardens, refusing him any other thought than you. 

When morning came, Aemond had made great lengths to avoid you, silently embraced as he had made a fool of himself in the gardens. As his training ended, Aemond tried to find reprieve from the loud keep in the library. Aemond believed he was successful in his avoidance of you, but as he stood by the threshold of the silent room, he saw, as you were seated in one of the chairs, a book in your hand as you silently read. His presence was still not noticed. He could easily slip away and be successful in his avoidance of you, yet, just like the other days, his body could not help but be pulled towards you. 

When you noticed a presence standing before where you sat, you flickered your gaze upward and locked eyes with the prince once more. “Prince Aemond,” You acknowledge and move to stand to greet him, but he silently raises his hand and hinders your actions. You copied his silence as he took the seat across from you. You traveled your gaze through the library, uncertain what to say or do. “I hope you are feeling better,” You say quietly. Aemond licked his lips as he was subjected to your dazzling presence once more; even though he had willed himself to avoid it, it seemed you were inevitable. 

“I am; I was simply tired,” He said, making certain to place coldness in his tone, hoping it would deter you and no longer present him with your kindness he stubbornly took as deception. Aemond felt his breath catch as you gave him another smile. A relieved smile for his well-being that was so genuine that he could not stubbornly convince himself that it was not. 

You stayed silent as you felt that that was what the prince preferred. You tried to return to your reading, but his velvety voice sounded through the room. “What business did you have here?” He asked. Aemond was testing you, presenting you with his cold and calloused self to see if it would have any effect on you just like it did the other. He watched calculatingly as your lips parted, and he found trouble to remove his gaze from your plush lips. “If I am being honest, I am not quite certain, my prince.” You said truthfully. You watched him raise his brow at you to explain further. “My father has business he needed to tend to here, but he had not disclosed to me the reason for it or why I needed to join.” Aemond nodded and watched as your eyes were never removed from his gaze, surprised that you could hold onto his intensified stare. 

“So you have no purpose here?” He asked harshly. He expected a frown or a look of offense on your face, but he watched as you smiled as if you were amused and shrugged, “I suppose not.” Aemond stayed silent and continued to asses you as you returned to your reading. 

“Do you like philosophy, Prince Aemond?” You asked after a stretch of silence, unable to bear the eerie and suffocating quiet. Aemond took a moment before he answered your query that no one had been interested in asking him before. “I do,” Another small smile appeared on your lips as you nodded. “Then have you perhaps read this? I have been mulling over the proposition of the archmaester for days now, but I cannot seem to comprehend it fully,” You say and turn the book you read towards him. Your fingers brushed as the prince took the book from your hands, and you could not hinder the chill that ran down your spine as you felt his cold, calloused fingers against yours. 

You listened earnestly as the prince began to speak and explain the proposition you had trouble comprehending, going to great lengths to explain his thoughts on it, assisting and receiving any questions you had. Aemond paused in his explanation, feeling as if his mouth had gone dry by his prolonged speaking. He turned to the window and saw as the once high sun began to set; he returned his gaze to you, your chin resting on your palm as you had listened to his every word, clinging onto every syllable he had uttered. Aemond gulped as he realized his mistake. He had revealed too much of him; too much of his thinking was poured out in his explanation of philosophy. “I must take my leave,” he suddenly said, disregarding that he was in the middle of explaining another philosophical theory that was different from the first you had inquired about. 

“Oh,” You said and straightened in your seat. Aemond wanted to frown as he detected disappointment in your tone and eyes. That cannot be, can it? Why would anyone be disappointed in his departure? “Good day, my prince,” You curtsied as you stood, not wanting to take more of his time. Aemond began to walk away, cursing himself for his actions, but he halted by the door as you spoke. “Thank you for your explanations… they were quite enlightening,” You said, and Aemond turned to you; the smile returned to your lips as you looked at him gratefully. Were you truly thankful? Thankful for him? Was that even a possibility? Aemond gave a curt nod and willed himself to walk away from you. 

You were in the gardens once again. You were terribly homesick, and the gardens of the Red Keep were the only resemblance of your home that you could cling to. You were walking distractedly, a buzzing bee following you around as the flowers in your hair attracted the insect. You tried to squat it away, afraid to get stung when you accidentally missed a step, losing your balance, and were met with the cobbled floor of the gardens. Your jaw slacked in pain, and you tried to stand, your cheeks burning in embarrassment that someone may have seen your ungraceful fall. There was a stone by your side, and you tried to hoist yourself upon it, hissing as you accidentally placed pressure on your swollen ankle, but you were determined to stand and walk back to the keep to ask for assistance.   

Unbeknownst to you, Prince Aemond had been observing you from above the gardens, and the moment he saw the sight of you falling, he made hastened steps to reach you. “My lady,” He called, trying to hide his panting, and approached you as if he had only stumbled upon your presence. You sat before a rock, and he noticed you hiding your injured limb from his view, “My prince,” Aemond watched in slight awe as you still tried to stand and curtsied before him, still holding onto formalities even though you were clearly hurt. 

“Are you well?” This time, it was now Aemond to ask the question. You placed a tight smile on your lips, pretending that your injury was not at all bothering you. “I am fine, and you, my prince?” You asked, trying to speak of pleasantries. You shifted your weight on your uninjured leg and, for once, hoped that the prince would leave. “Are… are you certain?” Aemond inquired, wondering why you would pretend. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, and Aemond narrowed his eye. 

You sighed and placed your head on the ground. “I… I tripped, and I think my ankle is injured— but I do not wish to bother you, my prince. I can wait for the swelling to subside.” Aemond frowned at your words. How were you so concerned about his well-being but not your own? Aemond shook his head and stepped closer to you, silently scooping you in his arms. “Wh— My prince!” You said in shock as you were stiffly settled into the hold of Prince Aemond. Your arms circled around his neck to stabilize yourself. “You don’t— I could have just waited for a squire or maid to assist me,” You said in a slight panic and could not even bear to look at the prince in embarrassment. “You are clearly in pain,” Was all he said as he carried you back inside the castle walls, the both of you earning strange glances from the members of the court. 

Aemond returned you to your assigned chambers, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his still heart and the tingles on his skin from where he felt your touch. He placed you gently onto a settee, inhaling a whiff of your scent, and he felt intoxicated. He placed a respectable distance between you as the both of you waited for the maester he ordered a squire to fetch. Your gaze was still planted on the floor, and Aemond noticed the flush on your cheeks and the harsh bit you had on your lip, embarrassment clearly evident in you. 

“I did not wish to bother you, my prince.” You say quietly, your tone heavy with guilt. Aemond could only hum a response, clueless as to why you were apologizing. The maester finally arrived, and Aemond stood by the side as he oversaw the maester, tending your injury. You tried to keep your pained reactions to a minimum as you felt conscious of the prince’s presence, but you could not help but hiss in pain, and your face contorted in discomfort as the Maester tried to move your injury. Aemond swallowed thickly as he himself was overcome with a phantom pain by the mere observation of yours. 

“Will it heal, maester?” He asked in concern, stepping forward. “Yes, my prince, it is only a swollen ankle; it shall heal by the morrow,” The old man spoke and stood, placing a cold, damp towel upon your injury, and you reached forward to secure its place. Aemond gave a nod, and his eye followed the maester who exited your chambers, leaving the door open. Aemond returned his gaze to you, your eyes finally meeting his, and he once again felt his breath caught in his throat as you smiled at him. 

“Thank you for your assistance and kindness, my prince,” You say gratefully, and Aemond felt his knees weak. No one had ever called him kind before. As always, you were met with his silence, but you dared say you were getting used to it. After a few moments of Aemond trying to comprehend your words, he gave a curt nod. “I shall leave you to rest; good day, my lady.” He said and willed himself to walk away from your presence he did not wish to leave. 

Another day had passed, and Aemond had not seen a glimpse of your presence he had been trying to avoid just the day before. He had the urge to knock upon your door and to see how you were faring with your recovery, but he placed great restraint on himself as his mind deemed it inappropriate. So he waited another day. He stood by the gardens, his eye assessing every passerby as he waited for you. He had been stood by the balcony like a statue for the better part of the morning, but your presence had not been noted. 

Aemond decided to walk around the castle, passing along every corridor in search of you and ready to act surprised as you two would eventually encounter once more. It was nearing sundown, and he had not seen a glimpse of you. Perhaps she is still resting. His mind told him, but Aemond was not entirely sold by that reasoning. 

The prince attended his family’s supper in his mother’s chambers. He sat quietly in his seat and saw the aggravated and tired faces of his mother and grandsire as they came to the table late. “We apologize for our tardiness; the small council has been overburdened by a matter.” The queen explained as she took her seat. “What matter?” Aemond asked, always curious about the dealing made. “The crown cannot afford to pay the dues it owes to House Tyrell… it is too great a sum, and the lord has threatened to withhold back crops for the upcoming winter if we do not pay their price.” The hand spoke, and Aemond pursed his lips, knowing that the debt to your house had been since the time of the conqueror. 

“Surely they could be reasoned with— they would not want to offend the rulers of Westeros,” Aemond said quietly and heard his mother sighed deeply. “Perhaps, but no meetings and negotiations can be made at the moment, for they had already left late last night.” Aemond’s hold on his fork tightened as he heard the words. You had gone without even a goodbye.

“I just do not know what we can offer to match their hefty sum,” the lord hand said and downed his wine. Aemond traveled his gaze around the table, his sibling not at all listening to the matter. “Offer me,” Aemond spoke, and he felt all eyes shift toward him. He turned to his mother, the queen’s lips agape in shock at his words. “The crown does not have money to pay our debt— then is it not a custom to offer marriage instead?” He asked rhetorically; the practice was made for centuries, but the price was usually paid with a princess, not a prince. 

“Aemond, mere debts are not paid with a prince.” The queen said. “But it is not just a mere debt, now is it, mother? The Tyrells had as well placed a threat to the kingdom’s security over this winter— and the mere debt you speak of has been established since the age of the conqueror,” Aemond turned to his grandsire, who he knew would understand his proposition. The Hand pondered over his grandson’s words. “But you are set to marry the Baratheon girl,” Alicent countered, and Aemond scoffed. 

“We owe nothing to the Baratheons, and do you not think that this matter looms greater?” He asked, “Lord Tyrell only has a daughter, does he not? In time, the seat shall pass onto me as well, alike with the arrangements with Lord Borros. And with this, the crown will no longer be indebted to their house,” Aemond said, determined to see you once more. “That is a most favorable solution,” The hand commented, quite content by his grandson’s proposition. The queen sighed and took a moment to think of the proposal. “Very well then,” she sighed, and Aemond hindered the smirk threatening to slip his lips. 

“I shall draft the proposal tonight and send a messenger to Highgarden first thing tomorrow,” Otto said in finality. “No need, I shall offer the proposal myself in person,” Aemond said, and he saw apprehension in his mother’s eyes, disbelief by his decision, but none hindered him. 

It was afternoon the following day when he had reached High Garden, Aemond riding atop his dragon through the morning, eager to reach his destination, you. “My prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted him by the gates of their castle. “What business is so urgent that the prince of the realm had to fly his dragon all over here to the reach?” They had not even reached inside the castle walls when Lord Tyrell could no longer hinder his curiosity. 

“It is the matter of the crown’s debt,” Aemond replied, his eye scanning the halls in search of you. He heard your father reply with an ‘oh,’ clearly anticipating the conclusion of the matter. “Is the crown ready to pay us the price owed?” Aemond hummed as he passed a portrait of you hung on the wall of your home, his eye entranced by the picture. “In a way,” The prince danced upon the matter momentarily. “In lieu of a payment, the crown is prepared to offer a marriage,” Aemond stated and watched concussion flush over your father’s face. 

“With respect, my prince, but that is an insulting offer. The crown has owed my house a great sum accumulated since the age of conquest!” Lord Tyrell seethed, and Aemond gritted his jaw. “I believe you are too hasty with your outburst, my lord. The crown is offering a union between me and your daughter— an opportunity for your only child to be a princess… your grandchildren having the Targaryen name.” Lord Tyrell shook his head, “My daughter is already bound to marry another— titles are one thing, my prince, but there is still a debt to be paid.” Aemond felt the fire in his veins awaken at your father’s words. You are to be bound to another; that cannot be. You cannot be anyone else’s when you had consumed his entire being— when you had presented him with such hope and kindness that he was certain he would find in no one else. You could never be not his. 

Aemond licked his lips, certain that the words he would utter would be a gamble. “Very well then… a counteroffer, my lord. The crown cannot fully pay your price, so we offer a royal marriage and a fourth of the sum owed to you,” Aemond said, assessing the father's reaction as he mulled over the proposition. “I shall need time to reach a decision,” Lord Tyrell finally spoke after a long pause. “Of course,” Aemond agreed. “For the meantime, you are welcome to the halls of High Garden, Your Highness.” 

Aemond waited as your father disappeared from his view before he went on his search for you. He walked through the unfamiliar corridors and found himself being led outside towards the gardens where he wagered you would be. When he saw you seated by a fountain, a smirk curled on his lips. However, it was quick to fade as he had noticed you were not alone. Aemond made furious steps towards you to announce his presence. 

You were conversing with another when you felt your skin tingling and the familiarity of a cold gaze upon you. You turned to your side, and your eyes widened as you saw the prince approaching. You blinked slowly, trying to discern if your mind was playing a cruel trick. But when the prince stood an arm’s length away from you, where you could see him clearly, you knew that it was not a trick. “My prince,” You say almost breathlessly, curtsying lowly before the son of the king. 

“How… what brings you here, your highness?” You asked, disregarding the earlier presence you were with. “Business for the crown,” He replied, eyeing the man who stood beside you. You turned your eyes toward where the prince placed his gaze intensely. “Oh, my prince, this is Prince Martin Martell,” You introduced, and you felt Martin stepped forward and bowed. “Martell? Are you not a long way from Drone?” Aemond gritted as he let out his hand to shake the prince’s hand. He wanted to smirk as he saw the man’s tanned face twist into a wince before quickly masking it. “Yes, my prince, I come as a suitor for my lady,” He explained, and Aemond pursed his lips at his words. 

You licked your lips as you suddenly felt the fresh air become tense, “Would anyone like some tea?” You suddenly interrupted the intense gazes of the two princes, walking in between them as you made your way toward a nearby table that had the afternoon’s refreshments. Aemond tapped his finger on the table, his eye shifting between you and your intended whilst you poured tea into everyone’s cup. “If I may ask, what business warrants your presence here, Prince Aemond?” Prince Martin inquired, and Aemond reluctantly shifted his attention from you, who was licking sugar from your fingers. 

“A proposal for House Tyrell,” he said bluntly, swallowing thickly as your lips parted at the mention of your house. “What proposal, if I may ask,” Your turn to inquire. Aemond licked his lips and debated if he should give you the true manner of his visit. “A proposal for you, my lady, to be a princess of Westeros.” You feel dazed by his words, your body freezing in shock, and you seem to forget how to breathe. 

Aemond looked at you expectantly, trying to search for any reaction in your eyes other than the pronounced shock. You were saved from his expectation of a reply when you heard your father calling for you. “I— excuse me, my princes,” You say in a haste and hurriedly went to your father’s call. 

“What is happening— the prince just informed me of his proposal— in front of Prince Martell!” You panicked, recalling the scene to your father with wide eyes. You watched as your father paused his lips, an aggravated sigh leaving his nose. “Bold of him to inform you of such proposals when I had not even given him my reply.” You shook your head and warily turned to the gardens, where you saw two princes seated by a distance. 

“Where did this proposal come from? I… I do not understand,” You whispered, recalling your days in the Red Keep; the moments with the prince that you tried to sell to yourself were meaningless to him. However, you supposed you sold yourself with a lie because those moments were enough for him to ask for your hand. Hope was dangerously blooming in your heart, emotions, and festering feelings you tried hard not to succumb to for the past days, now inevitable. 

“The proposal comes because the crown cannot pay the debt due to us… instead, they are offering a marriage between you and the prince and a fourth of the sum owed,” The hope that was dangerously blooming and had rooted itself in your heart quickly wilted, willing yourself not to show disappointment on your face. “Oh,” Was all you could utter. “What is your decision then?” You asked quietly as your father guided you further into the walls of your home. 

“Your courtship with Prince Martell has been settled for three years since your sixteenth name day, but no formal betrothals are in place, and we are in no obligation to the Martells,” Your father stated as you two walked along the corridors. “But Sunspear is a long way from here,” Your father added, “And though Kingslanding is closer, and if I were being honest, I would prefer you to be a princess of the whole of the seven kingdoms rather than just Dorne,” You twirled with your hair as you listening into your father’s musing. “But this marriage is just a way out of their hefty debt,” You nodded along and waited for your father to decide. 

“So? Which one of them?” You asked as you needed an answer, your nerves growing unbearable. Your father took in a deep breath, “I shall leave that decision to you… it is you who shall marry one of them; the money is not truly that much of a concern— it was simply a bargaining tool for the crown to remember how indebted they were to us,” Your father explained, and your lips parted as you were given a daunting task. 

“Can I speak with Prince Aemond for a moment? I… it is— I need to speak with him,” you say, and your father gives the nod, “I shall have him meet you in the drawing room,” You waited nervously for the prince, your mind running as to what to say to him. You stood when the prince entered the room, your lips parting, ready to speak something you were uncertain of, but Prince Aemond spoke first. 

“I know this is quite abrupt,” Aemond spoke and dared to step close to you, trying not to grow distracted by your mere ethereal presence. “It is my prince,” You agreed. “Could I just ask why?” Aemond frowned at your words; it was quite a straightforward proposal. “The crown owes your house,” He said matter of factly, “I know, but we ask for coins or land but not a marriage,” Aemond licked his lips, “And I am aware that the marriage is a substitute. However, you would understand that no one would be that inclined to accept a proposal just because the one giving the proposal is in debt.” 

“Is this a rejection?” Aemond took another step, closing most of the gap between you. He was aware that he was scowling severely, scarily even, but you did not seem to be frightened, a first for anyone he had encountered. “More of a question,” Aemond’s brows raised at your words. “Well, it’s clear that this proposal is just an obligation for you, and if I am being honest… I prefer someone who would not see a mere business dealing.” 

“All marriages are business dealings,” You pursed your lips at the prince’s words. “I supposed they are… but not every marriage is just a business dealing.” Aemond licked his lips, and the both of you were enveloped in silence. “I guess what I’m saying is… I would not feel inclined to choose someone who proposes because it is their obligation,” You say slowly, surprised that you managed to come across your answer. If it were any other situation where the crown was not indebted to your house, you would accept the proposal eagerly, but your heart idealistic heart yearned for someone who wanted you truly and did not see you as a mere opportunity. 

“My lady, I think you have gotten the wrong idea here,” You furrowed your brows as all were clear to you. The proposal was just an obligation… isn’t it? “No one forced me into this proposal; the queen could not find a solution. This marriage had not even crossed her mind— I…” Aemond passed as you waited on bated breath for his explanation. “I have offered the marriage not because of duty or a way for the crown to escape their debt but because… I— I want you. I want you to be my wife.” 

You looked at him with clear apprehension, and Aemond actually believed that you would flash him your sweet smile— perhaps a blush on your cheeks as he had said words so unlike him. “You want me?” You asked incredulously, and Aemond nodded, boldly taking your hands into his. “But why? We barely know each other?” You asked. Frowning as your eyes go downwards toward your hands clasped with the prince’s cold ones. “Why?” Aemond asked in disbelief you would ask such a question? You nodded. 

“Because I just do,” Aemond licked his lips as it would appear that that was the wrong answer, watching as you stole away your hand and your lips turned into an adorable pout he was very much tempted to kiss. “I— Because you are pretty, overly pretty,” Aemond spoke and hoped that would sway your mind, but that seemed even to offend you. “And because you are knowledgeable, I have never met anyone who had the same philosophical interests as me,” Aemond quickly added, and he wanted to smile as that lessened your frown. 

“And most of all, because you are kind. You are… you are not one to judge— you came to Kingslanding without any criticism or fear of me. You actually saw me as an actual person and not…” Aemond trailed as he felt a sense of relief as he said the words he thought none could ever compel him to do so. “Not like a weapon?” You almost laughed as you often heard others allude to him as such. Aemond nodded and took your hands into his once more. 

“You want me because I was kind and took an interest in you?” You asked, making certain that was his reasoning. Aemond nodded and dared to tuck a stray hair that obstructed his view of your face. “If that is all that it took, what if then another comes along and presents you with such kindness and interest… am I simply to be set to the side?” Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek as he felt his stomach twist at your words and at the look of doubt in your enchanting eyes. “What if—“ You were ready to voice out another doubting scenario, but your lips were kissed shut. 

You feel heat bloom into your cheeks, and you are stunned as you feel the prince’s thin and cool lips upon yours. Your eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but they fluttered to a close as you savored the feel and taste of him. “I do not know what more to say to quench the doubts in you… but you must know, I have never felt such a way— I have never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you.” Aemond whispered against your lips as you breathed heavily, your body feeling afloat and alight. 

“The situation is not the most favorable one; believe me, I understand your qualms— but it is the only opportunity I had to make you mine,” You feel liquid fill your stomach, and words cannot find you. The only thing you could do was go to the tip of your toes and kiss the prince’s lips once more, a chaste kiss than the first, but it was a kiss that gave the prince his answer. 

Three moons passed before your nuptials were settled. You stood by the door of the great hall, waiting for it to open and lead you to your soon-to-be husband. “Are you certain?” Your father asked as he clasped his arms with yours. You breathed out a laugh and nodded your head eagerly. “I am,” You said with a smile and took a deep breath as you heard the trumpets from the other side of the door. 

Aemond sighed longingly as he saw the smile on your lips again. The smile that he had never been the receiver of before. The sweet and kind smile that led to all of this. 

You beamed at your groom as he took your hand into yours, unable to remove your gaze from his unique lilac eye throughout the whole of the ceremony. “I am his, and he is mine,” You recited after the Maester, feeling Aemond lightly squeeze your hand as you said the words, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. When it was Aemond’s turn, you bit your lip as you felt your smile grow wider, your heart beating loudly in your chest, and delight taking hold of your whole body. “I am hers, and she is mine,” Aemond stated, eye filled with sincerity and promise. 

You breathed in a deep breath as your husband stepped forward to seal your marriage with a kiss, your cheeks burning as you heard the cheers of your guests. “My flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips as you parted, his finger brushing away the stubborn lock of your hair once more. You could only smile upon him, your heart in your eyes— just one act of kindness, a simple smile had been the catalyst for you to find your love. 

You chewed on your cheek in anticipation as you were being led down the halls by your husband, the bedding ceremony promptly taking place after the feast. 

Aemond spared no second before claiming your soft, sweet lips once more. Gently pushing you upon a pillar in his chambers to keep you steady and flush against his body. “Aemond,” You called as you clung to his neck, his lips trailing downwards and his fingers undoing the laces of your gown. “You’re all mine, my flower… forever bound to me, my kind little wife.” Aemond hummed as he tasted your skin, his lips kissing your bare shoulders, the sleeves of your dress draping off. “I’m yours, my prince,” You sighed, but you felt slight dread in your stomach as he clicked his tongue in disapproval and slowly shook his head. “I am your husband… you must learn to call me by my name; no more titles and formalities,” Aemond lowly said, wanting to hear his name be uttered from your lips. 

You nodded, “I’m all yours, Aemond,” You said and whimpered as your husband’s eye darkened, and he forcefully slammed your lips. You feel your dress pool to the floor as he successfully removes it; he takes hold of one of your thighs and makes you cling to him, leading you to your shared bed. Aemond gently laid you down and parted your lips to admire the view of you sprawled before him. The thin sheet of your shift reveals all to him. 

You gasped in utter shock as you felt him tear away the thin cover you had, fully exposing you to him. A strained moan left your throat as Aemond dipped down and took one of your tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, his tongue teasing the bud. You clung to his silvery locks; just that action alone made your core tighten painfully. Aemond smirked as he moved to pay attention to the neglected mound, your hips grinding upon his as you sought friction. 

“Aemond, I…” You called, uncertain of what you wanted, but all you knew was that you needed more. “Yes, wife?” He hummed and placed open-mouth kisses upon your stomach. “I… I—“ You stuttered, not knowing what to ask. Aemond sighed and moved his head to kiss your lips, “Do you want more… do you want to be pleasure, my flower?” He asked, as he could not be so cruel to leave you in such a state for much longer. You eagerly nodded your head. 

It did not take long for you to be a moaning mess, your eyes rolled back in your head, and your back arched as Aemond placed his mouth upon your cunny. Licking and teasing your folds, “Aemond! Oh, gods!” You called in utter pleasure as you felt his thin lips enclose your sensitive bud, sucking and licking it. You battled with your mind-numbing pleasure as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch his actions. He looked up at you, grinning as his fingers teased your undefiled whole. You bit your lip and breathed heavily, boldly taking hold of the leather strap of his eye patch. You saw as his eye darkened, and you hesitated, but Aemond gave a nod. 

As you removed his eye patch, Aemond pressed his finger into you, your eyes rolling back as you saw his sapphire eye. Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, sucking on the bud as his fingers pumped in and out. He felt your walls clench around the digits and your moans growing louder. Through your closed eyes, you feel him smirk against your skin and curl the digits inside your cunt— a loud moan leaving your lips as you come undone. Your hips violently move against his face, and the pearl of your cunt hitting gains his angular nose. 

“Oh gods,” You say breathlessly as you feel Aemond’s weight atop of you. You undid the laces of his vest as he removed his trousers. You looked downwards and saw the whole of your husband, his warm, pulsating length resting upon your thigh. The head of his cock weeping a clear liquid. “W… will it fit?” You say in disbelief, never having thought that something so phallic could be so… large and appealing. “Of course, you were made for me, my flower.” Aemond lowly said and kissed your lips as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

You dug your nails onto his shoulders as he slowly tore his way through you. Him hushing your cries of pain and kissing away your tears. “It hurts— Aemond, I… it’s too much,” You cried, your legs wrapping around his waist. Aemond reached downwards and drew circles upon your cunt to aid your pain. You waited for the pain to bleed into pleasure. Aemond tightly shit his eye as he felt the tip of his cock brush against a rough spot in your cunt, him fully sheathed inside you. He made cautious thrusts, watching as you would acclimatize to his length, and when he saw your eyes roll back, that was his sign to fasten his pace. 

Aemond’s found your lips once more, muffling your moans and whimpers as his cock was relentlessly hitting the spongy spot in your cunt that made your core come undone over and over again. You were on the verge of your fourth climax, each of them coming quickly after the other, and your thighs started to shiver at the pleasure that had enveloped you fully. “Aemond… It’s too much. I— husband, I cannot,” You cried as you felt a different sensation, an odd pressure in your core unalike the other times you came. Aemond clenched his jaw as his cock twitched inside your cunt, “Just… come for me one more time, my flower,” He gritted as he wanted to coax another peak from you. 

Aemond laid his thumb flat against your nubbin and rubbed circles once more, your voice already hoarse from your loud moans. “Oh… Aemond!” You cried as the quivering of your thighs grew, and you felt the pressure in your core come undone; a differing climax from the first three overcame you. Aemond groaned loudly and tilted his head back as he spilled his seed deep in your cunt. You breathed heavily as you tried to comprehend what had happened, wetness pooling between your thighs, and an embarrassed blush spread through your cheeks and neck. 

Aemond smirked and shook his head, trying to soothe the mortification in your eyes. “I knew you were capable of it,” He hummed and kissed your lips. He knew it was perhaps too much to test your limits in your first night together, but he could not help himself; he needed to have you in such a way. “My perfect wife,” he hummed against your skin, and your reply came through your tired smile. 

[theredquill]

✧˚ · . SOUND & FURY, hotd fic

˚ · . AEMMA VELARYON

“ i was more of a seasnake than a dragon ”

fc: sofia wylie / pairing: aegon targaryen

˚ · . ARYANA STARK

“ i’m no southern lady, i’m aryana stark of winterfell and i’ll die with a sword in my hand ”

pairing: lynesse targaryen / fc: ruby cruz

˚ · . LYNESSE TARGARYEN

“ all i’ve ever wanted was to make someone in this family proud ”

pairing: arya stark / fc: tamzin merchant

˚ · . LEADA TYRELL

“ our banners are as green as yours, your grace ”

fc: ellie bamber / pairing: aemond targaryen

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter One

Chapter Summary: New friends, foes, and feelings Word Count: 8,413 Warnings: Protective Aemond, Unwanted Advances From Aegon, Bullying

Life is an odd thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard you try to pave the path you wish for, no matter the best-laid plans, there will always be something beyond your control. Neither your stubbornness nor your will can undo what is set as destiny, and you can either accept what is meant to be or deny it with all your might until the fateful day comes when all your resistance will turn moot. 

Elinora’s life had been made for her. From the moment of her birth, she was simply waiting for instructions on how to proceed. Her actions were always premeditated; her will was basically non-existent. It sounds tragic, yes, but she never had complaints. How could she? It was all she knew. A puppet cannot complain about their puppeteer. 

You really shouldn’t be that concerned about her. Those strings were the only thing that had kept her upright— if it weren't for them, she wouldn’t be her.

As the only daughter of House Tyrell, a multitude of things are expected of Elinora. She may not be royalty, but with her father being the lord of one of the great houses, she was close enough. Many eyes were upon her, the prayed-for daughter of her lord father— the miracle babe, for her mother was well in her years, and all doubted her ability to conceive once more. On the day of Elinora’s birth, a feast that could battle the royals was made in her honor. As they celebrated, she cried in her father’s arms as they paved her life and sealed her fate, bounding Elinora to a son of House Velaryon, a promise for which she will never understand the reason. 

Elinora grew up well-loved by her family, however restricted she was. They locked her in the high walls of Highgarden, forbidding her to see a prolonged view of the outside world. Forever sheltered and secured in her father’s house. With such restrictions, it was expected that she would grow up naive and clueless about how life truly works; perhaps she was, but she had gone to great lengths to at least know something about how the world works, preparing the best she could for the day when she would eventually be let out of her cage. 

That day came sooner than she expected. The day just after her sixteenth birthday, it was revealed to her that her family was expected at court. Elinora tried her best to reign in her excitement, to keep her decorum and not dance around her chambers in glee, for she would finally see a glimpse of the world beyond the stained glass windows of their home. 

“Contain yourself, sister,” Elinora’s brother smiled as she practically bounced on her seat in the wheelhouse. They finally left the city gates of Highgarden; she had never gone beyond them before. “I’ve never been this far away from home,” Elinora said in great excitement as she peeked through the holes of the wheelhouse, finally seeing life beyond the walls that had kept her enclosed. Her brother, Edward, breathed out a laugh in amusement, a sliver of guilt in him at how sheltered they had kept her, but as they often said, it was all for the best. 

“Why are we called to court?” She questioned as she placed a pillow on her lap. “I’m not entirely certain as well,” Her brother lied, protecting her from the actual matter of urgency. They had done well to censor all violence from Elinora, and the looming threat of an upcoming war was another matter they had shielded her from. “Is Ser Gwayne to come as well?” Elinora could not help but question about the knight. They had seen him only a fortnight ago, Ser Gwayne usually venturing to Highgarden for leisure to ride his noble steed, and at those occurrences, Elinora would be waiting by the window for him— running down the stairs of her home to greet the knight from Old Town. However shielded she was from the world, her family indulged her with a fair few trusted people around her, one of them being Ser Gwayne, one of the most chivalrous and noble knights in the Reach. 

Edward smiled sadly, “I’m afraid not; I’ve spoken to Prince Daeron only two days before, and they had no plans to venture to the capitol.” Elinora nodded slowly; a tad saddened as she expected to see familiar faces as they came to King’s Landing, but the prospect of seeing something new overpowered whatever disappointment she felt. 

After five days of travel through the King’s Road, House Tyrell arrived at the Red Keep, the Hand of the King and his daughter, the Queen, welcoming them. “Lord and Lady Tyrell, welcome to King’s Landing,” The Lord Hand greeted with a nod of his head. Elinora readily curtsied before the two, along with her brother, who bowed before their host. 

Elinora could not help but stare at the queen, especially at her hair. Ser Gwayne had always told her that her hair reminded him of his sister’s, only that hers was a tad darker, and the curls were looser. “Lady Elinora, it would seem my brother was not at all lying when he sang praises of your beauty,” A blush was quick to creep up the girl’s cheek; unable to reply, she could only curtsy once more— entirely flattered by their words. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said quietly, turning to her brother, who only rolled his eyes in tease. 

As they escorted Elinora to her chambers, she felt a sense of independence as her brother did not trail her to the East wing of the keep, nor were her chambers set near her parent’s, unlike in High Garden. She was completely out of their watch for the time. It was new, and it was thrilling. As she set her gaze on her assigned chambers, Elinora found it quite modest and simple… perhaps a bit bare, but she did not wish to dwell on such matters because, for the first time in her life, she was without immediate supervision. The lack of fine furniture was a small price to pay for independence. 

Elinora stepped forward towards the balcony of her chambers, looking upon the view of the city, which was entirely different from Highgarden. Absent were the overwhelming green and empty lands; instead, what was before her was the faded reds of clay roofs and the differing heights of houses and buildings. Everything was different! And for now, she quite liked that. 

“How are your chambers?” Her father asked as they had an intimate family dinner in their chambers. “It quite… quaint,” She answered, not wanting to be seen as ungrateful as she was presented with a practically bare chamber; it shouldn’t really matter; it was only meant for sleeping; she has the Red Keep to explore! Her brother, however, scoffed. “I had always thought the Red Keep would be this extravagant place, but why are the guest rooms dressed so drab? For gods’ sake, they cannot even provide fur! Do they expect wool to keep us warm at night?” Edward complained, but Elinora bit back her tongue as she was taught that a proper young lady should never utter such criticism, especially when it comes to their hosts. 

“Well, it’s a good thing we came prepared. I’ll have your squires and maids make up your rooms more comfortably.” Their mother decided. Elinora pursed her lips as she waited for the end of her mother and father’s conversation to speak, and when there was a pause, she hesitated to utter her question. “Father… how long are we to stay here?” She questioned quietly. “No more than two moons, I would think,” He replied as he took a chalice into his hands. Elinora nodded, another question leaving her lips. “But why are we here?” 

Looks between her brother and their parents were exchanged, still not wanting to reveal the true reason for their coming to the capitol. Because to reveal it would mean they would break the bubble of protection and innocence that had kept Elinora in. “Just… business, my darling, the matter of trade.” Elinora’s brow was slightly furrowed, confused as to why it was they who managed the mere business of trade when another trusted subject of theirs could see the matter. Instead of questioning it, she merely nodded. Ladies should never ask questions upon questions, she reminded herself.

When the next day came, Elinora walked along the garden arm in arm with her brother. They were the the newest additions to the court, capturing the curious gazes of the seasoned members. 

“Who are they?” Elinora heard a lady dressed in a dark blue gown question her friends as Elinora and Edward passed them. “Son and daughter of Lord and Lady Tyrell,” she heard the faint whisper of another highborn. As the two Tyrells passed, the fluttering hair filled with flowers and the comely face of a girl caught the attention of a silver prince. 

Even through his drunken state, Prince Aegon was sober enough to realize that a new pretty prey had come to the dragon’s den. “Who is that?” He questioned with great intrigue, his head turning in another direction just to catch another glimpse of the girl who practically floated about the gardens, butterflies trailing her as the flowers in her hair attracted the pretty insects. “I… I am not quite certain, my prince,” one of his lickspittles that he made knight replied, curious as well about who the girl was. Prince Aegon hummed as his eyes lost view of the girl who turned about a corner and was removed from the prying, curious gazes. 

“Why must I go back to my chambers?” Elinora questioned as she paused in the halls, reluctant as her brother began to escort her to the east wing of the Red Keep. “Because I must attend a meeting with Mother and Father, and no one could watch over you,” Elinora felt a pout come to her lips, but she quickly prevented it, knowing it would lead to her being chastised. She wanted to protest, but she knew better than to do so; as always, she only complied and did what she was told. 

“What time can I go out then?” She asked, looking at the sun that was barely at its peak, mourning the fine day that would be wasted as she made to stay in her chambers. “When we return from our meeting— come now, you’ll make me late.” 

Elinora stood by the balcony of her chambers, looking upon the world she foolishly thought she would come to know. She sighed heavily and was ready to return inside and sleep the day away, for she could never do what she truly wanted to. 

Just as she was about to enter her chambers, a great roar caught her attention. Frightened and curious, she peered down below to see what beast had the capacity to roar with such great volume. But the gust of strong wind that had managed to remove some of the flowers in her hair made her head snap upwards just to see the belly of a great beast flying above her. 

Elinora was mystified. She had completely forgotten about the dragons that House Targaryen possessed, even though a dragon resided somewhere near Highgarden. As the beast eclipsed the sun, Elinora knew right away who the dragon was; it was Vhagar. “Gods…” She breathed out, unnerved at the sheer size of the dragon that flew above. Elinora squinted her eyes as the dragon managed to disappear within the clouds. She waited a few moments to catch another glimpse of it, but as the clouds began to dissolve and the sun began to shine upon her eyes, Elinora pouted freely and sighed in disappointment as she lost sight of the great beast.

The girl began to settle herself into her bed once more and sleep the day away, but the sound of frantic footsteps in the halls made her do otherwise. Elinora battled with herself for a moment. She was strictly told that she may not leave her chambers until her brother retrieved her, but curiosity and boredom were gnawing at her. Surely, they would not know if she stepped foot into the halls, yes? Elinora chewed on her lower lip, her fingers itching to take hold of the door’s handle. She took a deep breath, took a risk, slowly opened the door, and peeked out into the halls. 

She caught the sight of green skirts pacing around. She raised her gaze and saw silver hair. She needed no introduction; by the color of the dress alone, she knew it was Princess Helaena. Elinora hesitated for a moment about whether she should open her door wider, but as she caught sight of the frantic face of the princess, she knew she could not leave her in the halls alone. 

“Hello,” Elinora said quietly in order not to startle the princess, but however dulcet her tone was, Princess Helaena still flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Elinora said in fear, clutching the frame of her door, reluctant to step out. Princess Helaena only looked upon the girl, swallowing thickly and giving a hesitant nod. When Elinora heard no reply from the princess, she dared to speak once more. “Is anything the matter?” 

Helaena hesitated at first; the girl before her was unfamiliar, and she did not do well with strangers— or anyone, really. “Oh, forgive me, Princess. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Elinora Tyrell. My family and I only arrived yesterday.” The girl curtsied lowly. 

“I lost my spider.” Princess Helaena revealed, and Elinora slowly stood straight. “It slipped out of my chambers,” The princess added, her violet eyes glancing towards the door next to Elinora’s chambers. “What did it look like, princess? Perhaps I can help you to find it.” Elinora offered, disregarding her fear of disobedience as she finally stepped foot out of her chambers. 

Princess Helaena looked before the girl in surprise, doubting her offer, but as Elinora began to pace around the halls, her eyes searching for a spider, Princess Helaena realized she was sincere. “It has a pattern… its body is yellow and black,” Princess Helaena responded. “Oh… is it a garden spider, princess?” Elinora questioned, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ears as she knelt on the ground and looked under a stone bench located near a wall. 

“Y-yes… I— how do you know that?” Princess Helaena questioned, astonished as Elinora already knew what kind of spider she was referring to. “I often spend my time in the gardens of our home, and I would encounter all kinds of bugs and insects during my hours spent there,” Elinora explained with a small smile. “They’re fascinating creatures,  spiders, but many misunderstand and are frightened of them just because of their appearance,” Elinora mumbled as she caught sight of greenery by the end of the hall. 

Princess Helaena felt a twitch come to her lips as she heard Elinora’s words. “You’re quite right,” she said quietly, following in Elinora’s footsteps. Elinora’s brows furrowed in focus as she spotted the spider perched on the leaf of a potted plant, laying out her palm and gently blowing onto the leaf to urge the spider to move into her hand. “Do you have a box for it, princess?” She questioned. Princess Helaena was too amazed as she finally met someone who was not disturbed by her crawling critters. “Oh, yes, of course— right through here.” 

As Elinora entered the princess’ chambers, she refrained to let her eyes curiously go about the room. Princess Helaena led her to a table under a shelf with multiple dividers displaying her collection of insects and bugs. “I had more before, but some died, and some I needed to set free because it frightened my children.” Princess Helaena said sadly as she closed the lid of her garden spider’s box. “Do you have children of your own, Lady Elinora?” The princess questioned. “I am not yet married, your highness.” 

“Oh, I apologize for assuming,” Princess Helaena said with an embarrassed blush creeping up her cheeks. “No need to apologize, princess,” Elinora said sincerely. A silence befell the two girls, both timid and shy to speak first. A princess picked at the skin of her fingertips, and a girl fiddled with the ends of her hair. “I— would you like to join me for tea in the gardens?” The princess asked nervously, not accustomed to inviting others in her custom. But as a smile crept up to Elinora’s lips and she nodded her head almost a bit too eagerly, the nerves in Princess Helaena settled, and she walked side by side to the gardens with her new acquaintance.

 “Brother, there you are!” Aegon greeted as he spotted his younger brother in the halls, newly arrived from his morning dragon ride. “What do you want, Aegon,” Aemond asked, already exasperated. “I always take you for someone who is well versed about the going ons in court, as well as the courtiers…” Aemond raised a brow at his brother, who circled around him, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, all I’m trying to say is, could you tell me who she is,” Aemond frowned as he turned to where his brother pointed, seeing his sister in the gardens seated across from a girl who he, too, did not know. 

He observed as two girls quietly laughed between themselves. The unknown girl wore a pale turquoise dress with delicate flower embroidery. Her hair was the color of fallen leaves when the weather was starting to grow cold, and her loose curls reached her waist. Her face was soft, her lips were plump, her nose in a snub, and her eyes… her eyes were the color of jade; eyes that contained lightness and naivety. 

“Do you know her?” Aegon asked, growing greatly impatient as the mystery surrounding the girl who had butterflies flying over her head was consuming him. “I— I do not know her.” Prince Aemond finally answered, disappointing his brother. 

Elinora felt a stare burning through her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She tried her best to listen to what the princess was speaking of, but as she lifted her gaze, she locked eyes with a lilac one that stared at her from above the gardens. Elinora needed no introduction to know who was the man who held her gaze so intently and coldly. She was uncertain what to do, so she offered him a small, kind smile, just as she was told to do whenever she was to lock eyes with anyone. However, the smile on her lips quickly disappeared as Prince Aemond only blinked at her and looked away, his movements cold and dismissive. 

“Do they always follow you around?” The princess questioned, which brought the girl out of her reprieve. Elinora blinked a few times, “Pardon, princess?” She asked, not certain what the princess was referring to. “The butterflies,” Princess Helaena smiled as she reached out her finger for one of the pretty insects to land upon it. That brought back the smile on Elinora’s lips. “Quite often, princess… they seem to be attracted to the flowers in my hair.” She smiled fondly. Butterflies had always followed her ever since she was young. At first, she was petrified of them, unaccustomed to the feeling of their tiny legs landing on her skin. But as time passed, she learned to appreciate her little companions. 

“Sister?” The familiar voice of her brother drained the color on the girl’s face as she was caught disobeying clear orders from her family. “B-brother, I—“ She greeted with panic in her eyes. “Oh, Princess,” Edward suddenly realized that he and his sister were in the presence of royalty. “Princess Helaena, this is my older brother, Edward,” Elinora smiled through her nerves and introduced her brother. 

“A pleasure, princess,” Edwar bowed, and Elinora twiddled with the ends of her hair as there was a stern tone in her brother’s voice that only she could detect. “But if you would excuse us, our parents are searching for my sister,” Edward smiled charmingly and assisted his sister in the direction of their parents' chambers. “Good day, princess,” Elinora smiled and curtsied, and before Princess Helaena could bid farewell, Elinora was already ushered inside the castle walls. 

“Did we or did we not give clear orders that you must stay inside your chambers with the door bared until your brother came to retrieve you?” Her mother questioned as Elinora sat on a settee, chastised for her actions. “You have, mother,” She said lowly, eyes staring at the rug beneath her feet. “Why then did you disobey us?” She questioned harshly, and Elinora fiddled further with the ends of her hair. 

“I— it was just that I heard shuffling outside my chambers, and I peeked out only to see Princess Helaena distressed because she had lost something of hers, so I offered her help to find it— and when we found what she lost, she invited me for tea; I couldn't decline because she might grow offended,” Elinora reasoned, eyes pleading at her mother and father for them to no longer grow cross at her. 

Her family exchanged looks, quietly deciding how to proceed. “There are multitudes of dangers here, Elinora… we are not insisting you stay in your chambers just because we wish it; it is for your protection,” Her father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I thought it would be safer here…” She whispered but quickly regretted it as her mother raised a brow at her for speaking out of turn. 

“This is the last time you do something such as this, understood?” She was asked sternly, and she mechanically nodded, knowing that no other response from her would be taken kindly. “Now, if Princess Helaena invites you to tea once more or any other outing, you must always tell us first. Agreed?” Her father questioned, his tone more mellow than her mother’s, and she nodded once more. “Good. Now, let your brother escort you to your chambers. Your maids shall come in a while to ready for the banquet.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Edward sighed heavily as his sister was rendered sullen. “We just wish to keep you safe,” He added and took hold of his sister’s hands. “But it is safe here… look at the other ladies of the court; they are not made to stay in their chambers— they go about freely; why can I not do the same?” She asked the same question she had been asking them for the past ten years but was never given a direct answer. 

“Even so, you never know when danger will come. We cannot risk it— we cannot risk you.” Edward said softly, “You are my dearest sister— the prayed-for daughter of our father, the miracle child of our mother… you cannot blame us if we are too cautious when it comes to you.” Guilt was fast to grow in Elinora’s heart. This happened all the time. As she began to hold animosity toward the suffocating treatment bestowed upon her, just a small reminder of their love for her made her forget that she was caged. 

“I’m sorry, brother. I was just… excited,” She said, and Edward nodded in understanding, quietly ushering his sister into her chambers without another word said about her transgression that morning. 

Elinora felt her mother place her hand on her arm, her little signal to indicate that Elinora was slouching and she must straighten her posture. The girl mechanically did it, readjusting the small, fictitious smile on her lips as well. On her other side was where she sat, Lord Edward sitting across from Princess Helaena; however, the seat next to the princess was empty. Elinora stared blankly upon the feast, starved, but they were still waiting on the arrival of the king. 

The girl had the urge to speak, to join in on a conversation that was exchanged by those who attended the small banquet, but since none spoke to her and she was trained to not speak unless spoken to, she said naught a word and her opinions and thoughts were often left unsaid and unheard by anyone; just as always.

When the grating sound of a chair being scraped across the stone floors echoed in the room, Elinora raised her gaze only for her eyes to be captured by lilac. Elinora blinked but did not have the strength to look away as the cold gaze of Prince Aemond pierced through her. She remembered how she offered him a smile in the gardens, and he simply dismissed it, a small blow to her pride. She wanted to look away and give him the same dismissal he had bestowed upon her, but her manners could not let her do so. Instead, she gave him another small, friendly smile, hoping he would acknowledge it. He did not. Instead, the prince simply broke their gazes and shifted his gaze to the others present at the long table. 

Elinora fiddled with her hair once more, not accustomed to being so blatantly ignored. In other instances, her smile would always be returned with either a smile as well or a nod of acknowledgment; Prince Aemond offered her nothing. 

“Lady Elinora, I hear you are acquainted with our youngest brother.” At the mention of her name, Elinora looked up and was faced with another set of violet eyes that held a look of something unbeknownst to her. “We are, my prince. We would often encounter Prince Daeron during banquets in the Reach— and he often joins your uncle, Ser Gwayne, for a ride on the hill next to Highgarden,” Elinora replied with a small smile. 

“So you know him quite well?” Prince Aegon questioned further, leaning closer to the table to be somewhat nearer to the girl, who had been his main point of interest since the morning. Elinora did not know what to reply; her lips parted as she thought of an appropriate response. “Well, you know him better than we do, at least,” Prince Aegon added with a laugh, and Elinora could only smile and took hold of her chalice to drink the wine that they provided to clear the block in her throat. 

Aemond turned to his brother, a furrow forming on his brows as Aegon shamelessly eyed the girl before them with lust and intrigue in his eyes. Ever since he had laid his eye on the girl in the gardens with butterflies flying over her head. Aemond was intrigued as to how quickly she was earning their sister Helaena’s trust. Helaena rarely, or if ever, had let anyone join her in her midday tea. So, who was this girl who was starting to nestle her way in? Aemond had doubts in him when regards to her— he found her smiles fictitious, forced… deceiving. He was already certain she was infiltrating them; that could not be. 

Elinora always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. She always tends to give others a second chance, so for her, first impressions never truly mattered. This is why, even after Prince Aemond’s boorish regard for her, she never took it to heart, only thinking he was having a difficult day, which caused his blatant disregard. Even the tightest and toughest of seeds could open and bloom into flowers, right? So when Prince Aemond passed the girl who sat with his sister, Elinora once again offered him a friendly smile that she gave to everyone she passed; it was ignored again. 

“How long are you and your family to stay here, Lady Elinora?” Princess Helaena asked as she refilled the girl’s cup. Elinora removed her gaze from the departing figure of the prince, who never gave her a sparing glance. “Please, call me Elinora, princess,” She smiled and stirred the tea in her cup. Helaena smiled and gave a small nod, “Then I would insist you to call me just Helaena,” It was an odd occurrence. She had never met a lady or perhaps anyone who did not agitate her— that did not make her nervous or anxious. There was something in Elinora’s constitution that was unlike anything that she had encountered in anyone in court before. 

“My father said we are to say two moons princess, though I am not certain if it is accustomed to any changes,” Elinora responded and took a sip of her tea, raising her hand to gently nudge away one of the butterflies that flocked around her once more. Princess Helaena nodded, her mind partially distracted by the fluttering creatures that found Elinora once more. 

When noon came, Elinora was left alone once again. The princess had matters to tend to, leaving Elinora alone in the gardens with her only constant companions, the butterflies. She sat on a bench, flowers surrounding her as she read a book. When she was a child, she never liked reading. It was difficult for her to imagine the imagery they possessed. People always say how vivid it was for them when they read books, but for Elinora, it was simply words on a page, unmoving and static. But as she was often restricted to the walls of her home, there was not much to do but read. With that reasoning, she learned to enjoy the written word. 

However, now, she was in a new territory. A new place to explore and discover. With that thought, a smile rose to Elinora’s lips. She placed an iris between the bounded paper to mark her page and quickly stood to venture around the Red Keep. She swore to her parents that she would not venture beyond the gardens, but luckily, the gardens of the Red Keep were quite vast. Even though she was still restricted, she felt an odd sense of freedom. 

Elinora walked the cobblestoned path and observed the passersby, always presenting them with a kind smile when they met her gaze. Others were taken aback, but most of them returned her smile. Elinora went along the path and past a group of ladies who looked about her age. She gave them a smile, and she felt elated as all of them returned it. However, as she passed them and when they thought she was an earshot away, she heard their sinister and mocking laughs. 

“What a freak! Who even is she?” She overheard one of the ladies as her friend. “Did you see how the bugs were swarming her?” Another scoffed. “Now I understand why she was with Princess Helaena— freaks do tend to flock together, don’t they?” That managed to completly wipe away the constant smile on Elinora’s lips. 

She was not the only one to hear such snide remarks. Prince Aemond was passing along the gardens as well when he heard such words spewed. As he passed the group of ladies he had gotten used to ignoring, he stared them down with his cold gaze, which effectively cut off their malicious merriment. Aemond walked onwards, catching sight of the girl who left a scent trail of iris and bergamot as well as butterflies. Prince Aemond shook his head to be rid of his thoughts and urge to follow the girl who had warmed her way to his sister’s side; instead, he only turned in another direction and placed greater distance between him and what he saw as an interloper. 

“I see Princess Helaena and Lady Elinora are growing acquainted; I am glad.” Ser Criston Cole suddenly said as he padded himself for his and Aemond’s training. Aemond frowned as he twisted his sword. “And why is that?” His tone was cold and harsh. Cole shrugged, “Your sister finally has a friend. Is that not something to be glad about? Even your mother is worried about Helaena’s lonesomeness.” The knight answered as he moved to his attack stance. Aemond rolled his eyes, “You clearly do not feel the same. Why?” Cole questioned. “She an intruder,” Aemond answered, and Cole breathed out a laugh. 

“An intruder? She and her family were invited here,” He said, amused at the prince, who was clearly irritated. “Do you not find it odd how quickly she made her way to my sister’s side? She is using her!” He revealed his great concern and genuinely thought Cole would agree with his weak theory. The knight simply let out another laugh. “You do not even know who she is!” 

“And you do?” Aemond gritted, and Cole shrugged, “Certainly more than you,” He smirked. “Lady Elinora is not conniving or cunning as you would think. She’s pure— perhaps even naive,” Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes once more. “I tell the truth. Her family has quite literally encaged her in their home— censored everything cruel and violent from the girl. She had never even ventured outside the wall of the Reach until they went here. For gods’ sake, I hear she’s only restricted in the gardens here as well! She is no threat, Aemond.” The prince did not believe such folly; he instead vowed to himself to reveal to all the true and deceiving nature of the girl that had bothered his thoughts since she had arrived. 

Prince Aemond was convinced that no one could be as pure as they say Lady Elinora was, not in this state of this world. All were corrupt and cruel, and he was certain Lady Elinora was as well, and her kind smiles were just a facade to hide the maliciousness in her. 

“You’re glum,” Edward observed as he accompanied his sister back to her chambers. He had noticed at dinner that she was too quiet and barely touched her plate, a melancholy in her eyes that was rarely there. Elinora raised her gaze and quickly readjusted her expression to deny her brother’s true statement, but a look on her older brother’s face made her sigh as she knew she could not lie to him. “Am I a… freak?” She lowly and questioned in shame. The snide remarks of the ladies of the court loomed over her thoughts. 

Edward frowned at his sister’s question and saw the tell-tale sign in her that if he did not thread carefully, Elinora would burst into tears. “What?” He asked delicately. “Earlier in the gardens, I heard a group of ladies call me a freak because of the butterflies that followed me… but I cannot control it! Am I a freak, brother?” She asked in fear. Edward blinked and pursed his lips. This is what they feared: Elinora being overexposed to the world's cruelties. 

“You’re not a freak, sister… those ladies— they were just jesting!” Edward lied, but that didn’t lessen the offense Elinora felt. “It’s not a very nice jest…” She mumbled and twiddled with her hair. “I agree, but you must not take it to heart— that is just the way they are in court… none of their words are true.” Edward sighed, and Elinora chewed on the insides of her cheeks. “Very well…” She sighed and kissed her brother’s cheek before retiring to her chambers. 

Prince Aemond sat in the library as usual in the afternoon. He quietly and peacefully read his book and added to his scholarly knowledge. He always liked the library; it was rare for anyone to visit there— it was his sanctuary in the walls of the Red Keep. However, the still silence he relished upon was disturbed by the faint sound of humming. Aemond frowned severely, looking at his surroundings to discover who dared disrupt his peace. 

As the humming did not cease, the prince stood from his place and sought out the source. In any other case, the humming would not truly aggravate him, but he had a sense that the humming came from the lips of an intruder. Prince Aemond found her by the back, her fingers trailing the dusted spines of books as she leisurely walked between the towering shelves. Aemond frowned and trailed closer, waiting for her to realize that she was not alone, but he was already an arm’s length away from her, and she still did not realize it. 

There was a dead end. Before the two of them, there was another shelf, and the only way out was to return from where one had come. Aemond believed that was where his presence would finally be known, but the girl simply stopped in her tracks and angled her head to observe the high shelf. The prince was not entirely certain what he was doing. He had a very strict schedule that he imposed on himself. He only had a few moments in the day to read at his leisure, and he wasted that time trailing Lady Elinora. 

All of a sudden, the prince watched as the girl stood on the tip of her toes and reached her arm up as high as she could to reach the fifth shelf of the bookcase. Elinora breathed in deeply and reached her arm higher as the book she wanted was out of reach. She then had the idea to jump and reach for it, carelessly bouncing and clutching a lower shelf to give herself leverage. 

“What are you doing?” A cold and velvet voice asked. Elinora let out a startled squeal and quickly turned, only to be faced with Prince Aemond. She breathed heavily, her cheeks scarlet in fright and embarrassment and her jade eyes wide in fear. “M—my prince, I—“ Elinora breathed out as she battled through her shock and curtsied. “What are you doing?” The prince questioned once more, uncaring that he had frightened the girl. 

“I was trying to reach a book,” She explained, her hands cold, reflecting the prince’s attitude towards her. Prince Aemond hummed, “Use a ladder; this is a silent room— you are disturbing the others who are trying to read.” The prince commented, Elinora’s cheeks further turning red in embarrassment. “I… I did not know where the ladder was,” She reasoned; if it were any other case, she would just agree and apologize, but she could not help but defend herself from the prince. She chewed on her cheeks as she watched his lone lilac eye roll at her in ridicule, and a quiet scoff left his thin, pink lips. 

They stood there for a moment, neither speaking nor moving until the prince finally decided to return to his spot, but as he moved, Elinora spoke once more. “Might you help me, my prince… you could perhaps reach the book?” She asked delicately at the prince whose back was turned to her. But as he turned, there was an irritated look in his eye, which made her quickly regret her request. “Never mind— I apologize for interrupting you,” She quickly said and curtsied once more, bowing her head. 

The prince gritted his jaw, his feet carrying him closer to the girl and his arm reaching upward to the fifth shelf. He took hold of a book and begrudgingly handed it to the girl who peered up at him. “I… It’s actually the one by the right,” She said sheepishly, offering an apologetic smile. 

Aemond felt his eye twitch and felt further irritation as he saw her smile once more. He sighed, returned the book, and took the one she was pertaining to. Elinora took it from the prince’s hold, their fingers brushing. One’s hand was cold and calloused, the other warm and gentle. “Thank you,” Elinora smiled gratefully, and the prince only stared upon her with his hard and piercing gaze. The girl did not expect him to give her a verbal response, but perhaps a grunt of acknowledgment, but the prince stayed silent. Only turned and left the library, disregarding the book he was reading before Elinora came. 

What gull she has! Instructing the prince to retrieve her book as if he were some squire! Aemond stomped through the hall of his home, his skin ablaze with irritation. Aemond looked toward his fingers that touched hers, disgust in his eye. As he reached his chambers, he sought out his water basin to wash away any reminder of the girl on his skin. But before his hand could touch the water, the prince halted, realizing how ridiculous he was being. 

The prince groaned and pushed away the basin in frustration, letting it fall and break on the floor, the fragments of porcelain scattering along his feet. How could this girl get under his skin so quickly? This was the first actual encounter they had besides her giving the prince her smile as he passed by. Why, then, did she unnerve him so? Aemond doubted all; he was never one to trust anyone. It was expected of him to be wary of all who come to court, but never once had he reacted such as this.

Was kindness truly so foreign to him? Had he never truly seen it for him to doubt and distrust those who have even just an ounce of it? The prince shook his head, running his hand through his face as he slumped on his chair, rethinking and trying to find an answer as to why the girl truly bothered him. He found none. 

Elinora sat in the gardens with the book acquired by the prince. Her legs swayed as she sat on the bench, and the butterflies flew over her head. “All alone, Lady Elinora?” As she heard her name called, she looked up to see another prince in her presence. “Good day, Prince Aegon,” She greeted and stood, curtsying before the eldest prince of the realm. “Where are your companions? A lady such as yourself should not be here all alone,” The prince smirked as he stepped closer to the girl, but Elinora slyly moved away. 

She gave an awkward smile, but the prince was none the wiser, only taking it as an encouragement to step closer to the girl. “I am still yet to make acquaintances in this court, my prince.” She said, glanced behind her, and stepped away further. “Well… I could be your friend,” The prince maliciously smiled, further advancing on the girl who was intent on moving away from him. “That is very kind of you, my prince,” Elinora felt the back of her knees hit the bench she once sat upon; there was no room for her to slyly step away from the prince. 

Aegon smirked at that. He used it to his advantage and almost flushed his frame against the girl’s, but Elinora was taken aback and landed atop the bench. “My prince… I— uh,” the girl looked around her surroundings for anyone to intervene as Prince Aegon’s proximity to hers was certainly growing inappropriate. 

“Aegon!” A loud voice then boomed and saved Elinora from further distress. The girl looked up, lips parted as she was shocked by the seething sound and thunderous voice. She locked eyes with someone who stood above the gardens. A lilac eye that seethed viciously. Elinora was shocked; she had heard Prince Aemond’s voice only earlier, and it was so… calm. It was cold and calculated, but it was serene and quiet. 

Elinora blinked as the younger prince turned to his brother, speaking to him in a language she could not understand. She glanced toward Prince Aegon, irritation evident on his face as he begrudgingly stepped back from Elinora’s personal space. He did not give a reply to his younger brother. 

Prince Aegon’s gaze flickered back to the girl, reaching for her hand. “Until then… friend,” he muttered and placed an uncomfortable, wet kiss upon her knuckles that made the girl inwardly cringe. Elinora could not even smile anymore. She held her breath and waited for Prince Aegon to leave so she could wipe away his kiss on her skin. 

She returned her gaze upward to where she last saw Prince Aemond, and to her surprise, he was still there, making certain that his brother had truly left. When their eyes met again, the smile returned to Elinora’s lips to show her thanks to the prince who had saved her from such a compromising situation. Just as always, the prince gave no acknowledgment and simply walked off. 

“That was kind of you,” Aemond stopped in his tracks as he heard the voice of their family’s most trusted knight behind him. He faced Ser Criston, who glanced towards the girl who was once again reading peacefully in the gardens, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I was not being kind— as you’ve said, Helaena finally found herself a friend. It would be cruel to let our brother make her his new conquest and bereft Helaena of her companion… I was not being kind.” Aemond gritted, overly defensive. 

Ser Criston Cole hummed and nodded but did not believe the prince’s words. “Very well then, there is no kindness in you. Now, come, the hand had tasked me to take you to him.”

A few days passed, and Elinora had not encountered Prince Aegon once again, much to her relief. But she did have numerous encounters with Prince Aemond, often passing by the halls or catching him in the gardens. He did not say a single word; he was just there, but Elinora always acknowledged his presence. 

The Prince had no reason to be in the places where Lady Elinora was, but what motivated him to trail around the girl was the sole purpose of scaring away his brother. Again, he did not do it out of kindness or any regard towards the girl but rather to save his sister from embarrassment or anguish, as Aegon had decided to make Helaena’s new friend his prey. 

Aemond stood in the gardens, pretending to observe shrubbery before him even if he had no care. When a butterfly flew past him, that was how he knew that Lady Elinora was near. He would never admit it, but he grew rather curious about the girl. Two questions pestered him: why do butterflies always surround her, and why does she always smile at him?

Before, if anyone would smile at Aemond, it was either because of cruelty as they were playing a jest on him or through pity as they felt sorry for his lost eye. But with Lady Elinora, it was neither. She simply smiled at him because she wanted to— but why?! Aemond huffed as a butterfly flew closer to his face, raising his arm to effectively swat away the flying insect. It fell to the ground. 

“Oh,” he then heard the voice of the girl he was just thinking about. The prince turned, and he expected her to curtsy before him as she always did, but she unexpectedly went to his side and crouched to take the fallen butterfly into her hands. Aemond met her jade eyes, disbelief in her orbs at what he had done. 

“My prince… I know they might irritate you, but you did not need to harm them,” She muttered as she inspected closer that flailing butterfly in her hands. Aemond rolled his eye, irritation quickly growing in him. He wanted to scoff at her in ridicule, but he refrained. “It’s just a butterfly,” Aemond said but was taken aback by the small scowl that was on the girl’s face. He had never seen her scowl before; he had gotten used to only receiving her smiles. Elinora could find no appropriate reply to the prince’s words; all she could do was walk away. 

Aemond raised a brow as the girl turned her back to him, his feet carrying him to follow her wherever she may go. He followed her to the table where she and Helaena had their tea earlier that day, a squire at the ready. “Could you please get me a jar for this butterfly? And… and could you poke holes at the lid?” She requested, and the squire was quick to nod and carry out her request. 

Aemond watched as she placed a sugar cube on a teacup and poured a small amount of water to make a concentrate. The prince once again rolled his eye as he realized what she was to do. She dipped her finger in the sweet water and delicately brought it towards the butterfly, who weakly clung to her sugar-coated digit. “Just let it be; it would have died by the end of the week anyway.” The prince sighed and stepped closer to the girl, her frown never leaving her face. 

Elinora took in a deep breath. “That is precisely the point, my prince. They’ve only have a week to live, and you further took that short time away from them,” She said quietly, partly in disbelief of herself as she uttered the words. She had gotten used to always staying silent and letting such comments go about— never defending herself or the things she loved. Aemond was surprised once more; he half expected her to be passive. To let his comment be and not give him a reply. 

The squire returned with haste with the jar Elinora had requested. The girl thanked him as he handed her the jar. Prince Aemond sighed in aggravation again as Elinora moved to pick the heads of cornflowers to make a bed made out of their petals in the jar. “You need not follow me, my prince… especially if you are only here to pass judgment on my actions,” She whispered the second part. Elinora rarely felt irritation— and anger even more rare, but as of now, she could feel it simmering inside her. 

“I only pass judgment because what you are doing is quite… ridiculous.” Elinora froze; her eye twitched as she felt the simmering anger in her come to a full boil that was to spill over. She bit back her tongue, gently placed the butterfly in the jar, and closed it. Her back was turned to the prince, and she took a deep, calming breath before facing him. When she did, there was a cruel, teasing smirk on his lips. The first time she actually saw him without his usual scowl. “Good day, Prince Aemond.” She gritted and quickly walked away, leaving the prince to smirk to himself as he found great amusement at the girl who initially thought was only capable of smiling, scowling at him, and stomping away.

[smirkingdovelove]

The Dark Rose 🥀

This sweet flower was not the meek and obedient type. Betrothed to the younger dragon since a young age, she intends to make the best of the match.For dragons may be fire and blood but she is no wilting flower.

[rkingsleigh]

Yes, I missed a few houses — there are too many to list them all.

If I missed your house, comment it down below.