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almondmilktargaryen · 2 months ago

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Duty & Sacrifice (Part Three)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Mourning child loss (written by someone who's not a parent), lying

Word count: 4.6k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four ✍️

Just as when he left Flea Bottom, the guards do not look twice at Aemond as he walks through the Keep. They do not see his face, nor the two cloaks he wore (Criston gave him his to hide the blood). No, all they see is his boots as they bow upon passing. The only words they utter are, “My prince.” Aemond faces forward. His eye does not stray. And his head stays up.

He turns sharply after climbing the stairs, finding his chamber doors in the east wing. The guard outside mimics the expected behavior before Aemond pushes himself through.

Out of all things unexpected in one night, Floris being absent was jarring. She sticks to a routine, just like him. With the candles already snuffed out, the smell of smoke had been replaced by the open air from their balcony. She should’ve retired hours ago.

Perhaps the gods wanted to leave him alone after… all of it, reminding him how alone he truly was. Still, Aemond looks around, peering past corners and squinting into dark areas at the far ends of their chambers, straining his vision with the distance as he feels the chains in his chest. They weighed down his heart and lungs as he staggered and lifted the bedcovers. Caution camouflages with his grief and takes hold just as strongly. Floris could be anywhere.

The weight, the chains stacked on themselves. Aemond discards the cloaks and mixes them in their shared dirty clothes. The view of King’s Landing taunts him; the capital he once saw from a safe distance nearly two years ago. Even in daylight, the people were nothing more than specks of dust. None of them could hurt him. He never thought it would be the reason, once again, why he felt this way. It was only more proof that he has not changed, still stupid. Three and ten, self-loathing, and stupid.

Luc used to represent his self-loathing. Now he sees Alyssa.

She was warm whenever he held her to his chest, like the sun washing over the cityscape. She was a blaze as fiery as her hair. Now she’s snuffed out like the candles in his chambers, but this time far away from home.

Aemond grips the barrier of the balcony as he falls. The stone scratches his skin as he clings to it like a cliff’s edge, yet he sinks down and down. A heave escapes him, squeezed out of him as the imagery of it all floods back, every angle pouring in as he convinces himself there was something he could have done. Before the alleyway, before Chataya’s. Surely, there was a step he missed. He had to have, so he retraced it all while shivering, like winter was here.

The door creaked open, making Aemond’s head spring up like a deer hearing a twig’s snap. He plugged his grief, picking himself up in the shroud of darkness and rubbing his face.

“Aemond!” Floris’ silhouette is barely in view, but he still recognizes it as she pushes her bangs from her forehead. Her rapid breaths grow louder with each step toward him before she’s fully in the moonlight. She’s in her nightgown. The black one from her mother that matches her hair, both now in crumpled waves. “Where have you been? Daeron has been in a state demanding to see you.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

A hand remains in her hair, the other on her hip. “He won’t stop crying. A nightmare, maybe? I put him to bed hours ago, and the handmaidens said he woke up screaming.”

“I’ll go to him.”

“Wait.” A palm meets his chest, square in the center. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond stares into the dark of their chambers just above her head before falling to her blue eyes. It was wiser not to speak.

The tips of her fingers are cold as they brush under his eye. Her short nails barely scrape his unmarred cheek. The wetness shines under the moon as she turns her palm to him.

He pulled out his usual excuse, putting a hand over his patch. “Eye pain.”

“Eye pain?”

“Yes.”

“Your upsets usually force you to rest, not tears.” She observes the residue before wiping it on her gown. “I haven’t seen it this bad since Baelon’s last name day.”

“Well, it happened. It comes in waves. Or sometimes a moment’s fit.” Another way to cover himself in the future. He’s discovered grief rises in him at inconvenient times. Gods love to torture. “I can’t control when they occur, Floris.”

“I never said you could. I just—”

“I need to see Daeron.”

The children sleep in the west wing of the Keep now. After what happened to Jaehaerys, Aemond insisted their rooms be away from the royal quarters. He made sure there was a guard at their doors day and night. Jaehaera included. Tonight, however, there were two guards outside Daeron’s door, appearing dazed and confused. Yet they still had the sense to bow to their prince.

Aemond opened the door to find five handmaidens completely helpless. But like the guards outside, Aemond was also confused when finding his son not screaming. His body only bounces in place like he had the hiccups. His head was down and he gripped his little golden blanket.

“He’s tired out his throat, my prince,” one handmaiden says. Her voice shakes.

Daeron looks up when hearing the title. His little eyes are puffy from crying so hard, and Aemond’s heart, merely hanging by chords, can still twist in on itself as he watches his boy’s lip quiver.

“Leave us, please,” Aemond says.

“Forgive us, my prince. We tried our best.”

Daeron rubs an eye with the heel of his hand. “Papa, my… throat hurts.” His voice sounds like he swallowed gravel from the training yard.

“I’m sure, sweetling. Hold on,” Aemond turns his head to the group. “My son is thirsty. Please, one of you fetch him some water. Add some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.”

Their curtsies blend with their departure. The door shuts behind him.

The candle on Daeron’s bedside table revealed the redness across his face, hot and sticky with tears. Aemond walks to the foot of the bed. He’s careful not to let his weight go too suddenly, recalling the height difference this time between this bed and Baelon’s. He’s not hesitant though with stretching out his arms. “Come here,” he says.

Daeron springs from his covers, leaving behind the small golden blanket as he crawls into Aemond’s lap. He hugs him at the neck while Aemond holds him at the waist. It’s a long hug, something they both need. He smells like outside, earthy yet sweet. He lets himself feel the boy’s fragile ribs steadying themselves. His father was here now. There was no need to worry. So they took in air as they needed it—with ease. When he pulls back, Aemond grabs the spare handkerchiefs left behind. Daeron still sniffled, but refused to blow his nose. Aemond pinches it instead.

“What’s upsetting you so much?”

“Am I to be Lord of Storm’s End?”

“What?”

Snot dribbles on the handkerchief. “I had a dream.”

Aemond cocks his head. “Tell me about it.”

“I had a dream that… that we went to Storm’s End to see Uncle Royce. But I was alone. And-and—”

“It’s alright.” Aemond rubs his son’s back. “It’s alright.”

“You wouldn’t let me fly Morning. I couldn’t get back home.”

Aemond gave pause as he listened to Daeron. The boy’s lip quivers again as Aemond’s thoughts swirl, shushing his son as he remembers Helaena. Aemond clears his throat. He smiled down at his son. “I know what this is,” he says with an exhale. “Come with me.” He holds him close as he stands up, walking across the rooms to settle at his window, the other side of King’s Landing before them. Aemond used Daeron’s fleshy arm to point. “What’s that building there?”

“S-Sept?”

“That’s right. The Grand Sept. Your Aunt Helaena is there. You never got the chance to meet her.” He petted Daeron’s head, white fluffy hairs that swept to the front and covered his forehead. He looks back up at Visenya’s Hill. The sept’s cylindrical corners and golden domes draw eyes to the center of the city. One of them held three bejeweled urns with their ashes inside, and Aemond dares not sniffle. “She would have dreams like yours, except she would often be awake. They would overwhelm her all the same. We didn’t understand them.”

“What happened?” He doesn’t look up at Aemond when he asks, only straight ahead at the sept. Meanwhile, Aemond blocks the memories; gore and blood still trailed the back of his mind if he ventured far enough. His leg bounces as he exhales slowly through his mouth, sounding like a haunting wind. Daeron didn’t notice. Aemond couldn’t gather an answer. What could he say? His sister went insane. She killed herself. He found her on Maegor’s spikes. She blamed herself for something that was his fault, and he never got to apologize.

“She lost her sons in the last war. Your cousin Jaehaera’s brothers.”

“Were they soldiers?”

“No, no.” He’s perfectly between Jaehaerys and Maelor in age. The ages they remain for the rest of time. He skips that. “But she loved them so much, losing them was too much to bear for her.” He rests his chin on Daeron’s head, just catching the tear streaking down his cheek before it dripped onto his son’s scalp. Observing the sept again, he longed to be ignorant of such despair. He shook Alyssa from his mind (as best as he could) to come back. “That’s how I feel about you.”

Daeron relaxed a little, his back touching Aemond’s chest. “But what about—” he coughs. “Uncle Royce.”

Aemond ignored the name. “These dreams can be very vivid. About things we already know. Your uncle named you heir, so you will be Lord of Storm’s End one day, yes. But you will go when you are ready.” He kissed Daeron’s head, inhaling his scent as he tried sniffling subtly. “We will ensure your brother receives proper training in royal proceedings as king. Your mother and I will ensure you’re prepared as a lord.”

Daeron doesn’t speak. He picks at the leather of Aemond’s jerkin.

Aemond, in return, hugs him tight with both arms. He gets close to his ear. “You’re not leaving me for a long, long time. Is that what you needed?”

He finally nods. His little white sideburns tickle his nose.

“Good. Because it’s the truth.” He picks him up again. “Now, time for bed.” His sniffling boy buried his head into his neck as he cuddled close, his fingers wrapped around the back. It was painful to do so, he could admit, but he still pried him off. His fingers slipped off him like broken stitches as he made him settle back in bed. He was reluctant, but gave him the golden one, avoiding the black stag sewn in the corner. He kissed the boy one more time before walking to the door.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“Uncle Royce. Where is he?”

“I assume at home.”

“But in my dream, I didn’t see him there. I said I was alone.”

Aemond blinks rapidly. “Perhaps… you didn’t venture far enough to find him.”

He rubs the satin edge of the Baratheon blanket.

“He loves you very much, Daeron. He wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“I know. I just don’t feel like he’s there.”

Aemond said nothing, only watched his son. His purple eyes, swollen and exhausted, darted up at Aemond briefly. They eventually went back down as he pulled his bigger blankets over his lap. Aemond could feel there was something else there, more his son wanted to say. And Aemond, for all the love he bears for his children, didn’t want to hear it tonight. So, he slowly turns on his heels.

“Papa?”

He suppressed his curse. “Yes?”

“Was… Aunt Helaena… were all her dreams true?”

Aemond swallowed thickly as he saw his wife do hours before he left for Flea Bottom. The truth is painful to keep down as he hears Helaena��s voice speaking of rats, then Jaehaerys’ head rolling on the floor just hours later. Still, Aemond looks his son in his beautiful purple eyes as he sternly says, “No. Now go to bed.”

Daeron doesn’t move for a moment, but eventually lays down. Neither of them say goodnight.

Finally, Aemond exits and heads back to his room. Keeping his head up, he pushes down his anguish with each step. He’s not out yet.

Floris barely waited for the door to close before she pounced. “Where have you been?” She is now the starkest thing in the room, all the candles alight again and casting a deep orange across their chambers and she is as dark as tonight’s sky. Only her cream skin contrasted with her hair and attire.

“I told you,” Aemond said. “At a meeting with the City Watch.”

“Her arms crossed over her small belly. “For two hours?”

“Yes.”

“When have you had a City Watch meeting last two hours?”

“Just now.”

“Aemond.”

“Floris, please.” He walks past her, cornering himself on the damn balcony. He lacks the courage to even glance at the city, choosing the brush below instead.

“What did this meeting consist of?” Her voice gets closer.

“My business with the City Watch.”

“Our baby boy wailed for his father.” Aemond can hear the way she bares her teeth. “And wherever this City Watch meeting occurred in the Keep, you were nowhere to be found.”

“It was a meeting in the city.” He spat out the first retort in his mind. “A dire meeting.”

“What could be so dire that you could not tend to your own son?”

“Someone killed a baby.”

The brewing storm halted with a catch in her breath. Her suspicion, though, is still strong around her. Aemond could smell it like rain in the air. He didn’t speak further. Rather, he found the nearest chair and fell into it. The barrier’s small columns blocked the city, similar to a cell as he thought of the woman he loved near the Old Gate. He cannot tell which one is the prisoner, as he pressed his temple with two fingers.

Floris crouched in her gown. Her gaze was heavy as Aemond did everything to keep from letting unnecessary information slip from him. “We took care of the killer. That’s what matters.”

Floris’ pale hand meets the crook of his arm. A thumb doesn’t brush back and forth like it did when his mother succumbed to her fever. The other arm does not wrap him in closer like it did when his nightmares of war jolted him and woke them both. Her thick brows didn’t slant in sympathy. They were straight and stern. “Whose baby was it?”

“What?”

“Whose baby was it?”

Aemond rips his arm away, the leather of his sleeve squeaking sharply from her grip. “What relevance is that?”

“Because you’re a kinslayer.” It rolls off her tongue so naturally.

“I’ve told you not to—”

“It’s what you’re known for, Aemond. I don’t understand how one baby would concern you.”

Aemond slams a fist on the arm of the iron chair as he stands, turning his back to his wife before facing her again. “You know I lost my nephews in the Dance.”

“After killing another.”

“Don’t!” His fingers curl into a fist. It’s when his father crosses his mind that he throws the force against his hip and lets out a shaky exhale. “Floris.”

“With your brother’s bastards rotting in the alleyways, I just don’t understand the difference.” She picks herself up, pushing with her knees and holding her belly. Aemond doesn’t help her.

“Because she wasn’t a bastard.” He spits out the words. Another lie, but he doesn’t care.

“Then whose baby was it?”

The chamber doors groan slowly. Aemond doesn’t move from his wife, but refuses to answer. Even as he sees her anger boil her skin and streak her cheeks, he keeps his mouth shut and watches the doors.

“Forgive me, my prince. Princess. I do not mean to disturb.”

“Cole.”

Even in a tunic and linen breeches, he stands like he wears his Kingsguard armor: feet apart, hands collected at his front. No blood in sight, and his hair is disheveled as if someone tore him from bed.

“Leave us,” Floris snaps over her shoulder.

“Cole, what news?”

He delays in reply, clearing his throat. “Once again, we require your presence, my prince.”

“With what?” Aemond slips around Floris before she can stop him.

“With, uh, burial arrangements.”

Aemond stood still, frozen.

“If the baby has a family, they can decide for themselves,” Floris says. “I don’t understand why such matters require my husband.”

“The family is quite… distraught, princess. As a mother, I’m sure you can understand the idea of such pain.”

Floris’ eyes falter slightly to the floor before glaring back at Criston

“The maesters have wrapped the body and prepared her for her final journey.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond says.

Floris snatches Aemond at the arm. “No!” Her heels skid on the stone floor.

“Do you wish to see the child’s body yourself?” Aemond snaps back at her. “For proof she’s real and your husband has a heart?”

He expected Floris to let him go, in every sense of the phrase. But her small fists only coiled tighter around his forearm. Everything hard about her expression fractured before him. The blue in her eyes glisten brilliantly as she shakes. “Please, Aemond.”

“It won’t take long, princess. I assure you. Your husband will be back soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Aemond sighs. But he looks his wife in the face as he pulls his arm from her hold a second time. He walks to Criston.

“Please.”

It falls on deaf ears.

Neither speak a word as they make their way through the Keep, nor create any sense of urgency with their footsteps. The only ones who look them in the face are a number of Gold Cloaks, either nodding or appearing extra sullen.

They don’t exit through the front doors. No disguises with them now. Instead, the pair navigate through Maegor’s tunnels to find their escape, opening one (of many) secret doors. The scale of Aegon’s High Hill meets them, the white waves of the Blackwater and a bobbing rowboat just below.

“How did you do it? Is Alyssa—”

“Not now.”

Criston jumps down first, landing on a small area of flat rock. He scales down the small mountain with ease, and Aemond follows with enough distance to not disturb each other’s footing. They hug the jagged walls and Aemond keeps his eye focused down on his own feet, his impaired sight working against him more than ever, with only moonlight just barely revealing shadows here and there. Criston even turned around to help him with some of the hill’s slimmer edges, but he refused, wanting to retain his focus. Over time (and with an absurd amount of patience), they meet at the bottom. They let the steep decline guide them to the small beach, meeting the rowboat.

“We have paid some Gold Cloaks to act as alibis in case your wife wants to inquire. They have already spread the word to others.”

The pools of Floris’ Baratheon blue eyes stick with him. She barely faltered upon word of her father’s fall in battle, nor a tear shed at his funeral. She maintained a grace fit for an unmoving force like her. Yet it was Aemond who pushed her tonight. He pushed her to tears. “And the maesters?” He inquires while clearing his throat. “What you said back there, that was true?”

Criston stretches his arms out to steady the boat. “Watch your step,” he tells him. But before Aemond can even take a step, he’s holding out his hand. Aemond looks down at it.

“I can get in fine on my own, Cole.”

“Just…” He gestures again and keeps it out until Aemond reluctantly takes it, one palm meeting the other. Criston guides him in and continues holding tight as the wood creaks under his boots. He doesn’t let go until Aemond sits down, the boat wobbling. Then Criston steps in on the other side, the Blackwater just missing his ankles, rocking the boat all the same. He grips the edges as he steadies it before reaching down.

Even the late night couldn’t hide the bundle of white waxy cloth, the small bloodless being that he held himself just hours ago. He can still feel the phantom wriggling in his arms from her twin’s screams. Now she is here, still. Still and cold as Criston handed her over. But even as the wind blows, Aemond hovers over her to shield her from the chill. He whispers to her as he does.

“I asked Maester Orwyle to wrap her, so we have another alibi should we need it. With her… injury…”

Aemond traces over her eye. Where her eye would be.

“There was no reason to suspect she was anything but a peasant child.”

“And Royce?”

“The less you know, the better.” Criston then pulls their weight with the boat’s oars as Aemond’s fingers brush the outline of his daughter’s face. The noise of moving water surrounds them as he pictures her. He pulled her into the world first, and he never thought bringing his third child into the world would affect him as deeply as his first two. He never imagined she would leave the world the way she came: wet and screaming.

It wasn’t until Criston docked the boat on the other side of the bay that he thought about asking where he—they—were being taken. He still stood unsteadily when stepping out, eyeing the breathing mountain amongst the young trees: his Vhagar. White birds that were perched on her spine flew when she picked up her head. She doesn’t yawn as she normally does when she wakes up, leaving Aemond to wonder, again, just what they’re doing here.

She peers from her high vantage point, neck fully stretched out as her acid green eyes peer at them both, watching them trudge through the brush of her dwelling. She sniffed the air harshly, sounding like a long hiss if Aemond wasn’t looking. Criston continues pushing the vegetation aside (as he had clearly done before, given the faint imprints of feet in the lush grass). It’s not until they make a circle around her that he sees the pyre; a shadow of dry black timber. Thick logs made the foundation as smaller sticks crossed each other to make the bed.

“She was a Targaryen,” Criston says. “She deserves a proper sendoff.”

Aemond clings to the cloth, securing her against his chest as if he is concealing her under his cloak all over again. He stares at the stick bed, and Vhagar lying behind it. Her chest rumbles, something like a hum that causes the earth to tremor under them. Her neck cranes down for a closer look, and Aemond can see the slashes in her pupils as he feels the creaking of her ancient joints when she tries standing.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond tries adding some force behind his High Valyrian.

She doesn’t listen. One foot forward, and the ground quakes. Roots and leaves shiver. The length of yellow teeth come into view as she takes another sharp breath.

“Lykirī!”

Still nothing. Her snout is inches from his forehead as her sniffs are smaller and more rapid. Her pupils drop to his chest, then back to him as she nudges him. Aemond has to step back to replant himself, but doesn’t order her to be still. His hold on Alyssa remains firm, closer to his chest than her mouth. She closes her lips, and the vibrancy of her eyes disappears when they do the same. Aemond’s forehead meets her snout, and Vhagar is silent as Aemond keeps his sobs down. He clenches his teeth hard and his jaw already aches from the tension.

Eventually, Vhagar steps back, leaving Aemond to walk to the pyre. He was not sure how long it took him to get there. Neither Criston nor Vhagar spoke. The strain from his temples to his eye, and now his jaw, made every step feel glacial. But eventually he did. He couldn’t imagine the sticks being more comfortable than that cot, but he didn’t pick her back up. He swallowed the snot and bile, meeting in the middle of his throat as he stepped back. Criston stood next to him. Vhagar looked at him.

“Dracarys.” He orders it as pathetically as he did before.

Again, she doesn’t follow him. She opens her mouth with no dragonfire. Her massive head twitches to one side, looking at him as she did the first time he ordered her to fly at Driftmark. But just as Aemond can feel the ache in her bones, she can feel the chains in his chest.

Neither of them wants to do this.

Aemond takes a breath, swallowing something like courage. “Dohaerās, Vhagar! Dracarys!”

Her head drew back with another hiss and her pupils thin out before her eyes close. Her neck curls back and she stretches her jaw. It’s always slow. Even the green color that lights up her mouth. He would be convinced that the pyre lit at the same speed, but Aemond fell into the grass; his knees giving in like the wood did under the intense heat.

Criston is still there as Aemond sobs freely, the sounds of it drowned out by the cracks of sticks and logs. He holds Aemond tightly as he buries his face into Criston’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” he tells him. “She’s ascending to the heavens where she belongs. No one can hurt her anymore.”

Aemond blocks his nose in the cloth of Criston’s shirt, sucking in air through his mouth so he doesn’t smell any of it. He remembers how Helaena wailed when she held Jaehaerys, his body limp and the blood soaking into her dress. The woman he loves screamed the same way. The cry of emptiness, a gaping wound inside. Aemond doesn’t have the lungs to scream like that. He just thinks of Helaena on the spikes. “I have to go to her,” he finally says. He pulls away, and Criston’s silhouette is nothing but a bleary shadow. “I have to before—”

“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”

“It doesn’t mean she won’t need me. We still have a child to take care of.”

“She has a child to take care of. You have three. Two of them are here. Another will be in the coming months, and your wife does not need the extra stress of questioning your whereabouts.”

Criston now sandwiches Aemond’s face between his hands. He doesn’t scream at him, but the force of the bones in his hands is hard against his skull.

“Don’t make me build a pyre for your fifth child, Aemond.”

His voice catches in his throat. Neither mother of his children wishes to see him now. Helaena once felt the same, but Aemond’s mistakes called him and Aegon to war, leaving her to grieve on her own. He turns to the pyre, a green haze that occasionally spits at the sky. The smoke burns his nose, making his eye clench shut against the sting. In that darkness, he remembers his mother and the knife to Rhaenyra’s eye. She understood sacrifice. And it was now his turn.

Criston stands up. His outline is still blurry and black, but Aemond can just see his hand outstretched for him. “Your family needs you.”

Aemond remembered his role. And he took Criston’s hand.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn @immyowndefender @teal-anchor @dixie-elocin

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

Text

The Dragon's Mistress (15.2)

15.2. The End of the Beginning

MASTERLIST

Summary: Some things unravel, other issues find this ties

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, death, mentions of blood, death of a monarch, might miss some warnings, you know what this it

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.8k

Notes: muahahaha this is it people! I didn’t even realize I was so close to the end until this! a final chapter! then a good epilogue. THIS WAS IT

“It was a dangerous move”, he warned

“But it worked”, said Corlys, “he is letting her go”

“You poisoned her”, he continued

“She was never in real danger, a little nose bleeding, a day of unconsciousness”, he said, “If I wanted to truly hurt her, I would have used some common poison, and not take months to find the proper one, to give her a good scare”, he murmured, looking into the flames, “I would never hurt her, or the baby within her”

“When are we leaving?”, he asked then

“First thing tomorrow”, he continued, “and you are coming with us”, Steffon smiled, relieved, “but then, I will return, after I make sure she is safely within out allies and friends, this isn’t over, this had only just begun”, Steffon smiled, knowingly, he then teached with his hands and the guard received the items he gave him, “you know what to do with these before we leave”, Seteffon nodded, “oh, one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“Do we still have supporters in Harrenhal?”, he asked with a hint of a smile, almost knowing the answer

“The strongest of our allies reside in the Riverlands, they still hold big grudges against Aemond for burning their fields during the war”

“Perfect”, he said simply, “I´m afraid I’ll need them to burn one last thing before we are done”

Aemond was a complicated man

From the very beginning he tried to keep up to his word, since he was a young boy the thing that mattered to him the most was his honor, especially after witnessing his brother lose it so quickly in wine and whores.

He trained with the sword, he assisted to all his Valyrian lessons until he was fluent in the language of his ancient house, he took classes and read all volumes of history and philosophy in the greatest Library of the realm, the one in the Red Keep

He was a devoted son, and brother, and Prince, never arguing with his grandfather or mother, always doing what he was told

He rode the biggest dragon in the world

He was the perfect prince, a gentleman

Until, she was denied of him

When Queen Alicent had refused Princess Rhaenyra’s proposal of betrothed Helaena with Jacaerys, he thought…

Now is my turn

To take my sweet niece to wife, and put a solution to all the problems of the realm and within the family

He was the one to do it

He wanted to, his niece was the perfect Princess, well versed in history and poetry, rider of a fearsome dragon, and a beauty without comparison.

She was his retribution for everything, the price he had won with his efforts

But he was denied of that too, his brothers took his eye, humiliated him, and Rhaenyra took her from him

He could never forgive her

She, the perfect princess, was going to do what was told, and she was betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark

No, you belonged with him

You were the only thing he has ever wanted, and the Kingdoms knew it when he burned the Riverlands and entire armies, only to get to you.

And he finally had you

But like they say…

... But some little birds cannot be caged, their souls begin to wither and suddenly they no longer want to sing ...

He wanted you, but you did not wanted him

He thought he could live with it, he had enough love for the both of you, he had enough desire, enough power, to keep you by his side.

But he didn’t

If you didn’t love him back, it didn’t matter what he did, he believed, you were his and that was enough

But it doesn’t work that way.

Now he had a lump in his throat as he saw the servants and guards put all your things in coffers

He had yielded

He was sending you away

He still didn’t understand why you didn’t love him back, as you tried to hide your happiness, but couldn’t

You were happy to leave him

This is what you wanted all along

So he found himself desperate again

He grabbed you in his arms, kissed all over your face, and whispered in your ear

“I will not stop until I find who did this to you”, he whispered, “when I do, I will bring you back to me”, you took too long to answer, concocting a lie in your pretty head, he could see the wheels turning

“I hope so, my King”, you said faintly

“And when you return, there is only going to be you, no other, no other Queen”, he said, to see your reactions

“I will not wish for you to harm anyone”, you warned, oh, you, always so concerned

For when Floris expelled the babe from her belly… her days were numbered

He was losing you, he didn’t like that.

He never realized he never had you in the first place

He would never admit it, but a tiny tear escaped his eye when he saw your ship sail away. Thankfully no one saw him, as a loud roar was heard front he skies and suddenly the entire harbor was overcome by a huge shadow, Aemond looked up to see your ever faithful dragon flying above your ship, following his rider home.

His face twisted in rage because he had commanded your dragon to be chained to the pit, clearly, the people he had sent had no luck containing the beast, apparently.

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor

A Dragon is not a slave

Aemond turned around to see Floris, cradling her belly

He was weak a couple of times, and that was the result, he thought bitterly. They lends him a hand, he played it, he played it wrong

But he did not have any time to worry, to cry for your loss, to punch the walls in anger for what others in the dark where still making him do.

A week after your departure…

Aegon died

He exhaled his last breath in a heave of puss and blood, and that is how the man that what going to be known as “Aegon the Usurper” was gone from this earth, taken by the stranger.

He detested his brother, that was no secret, but there was a day he didn’t.

Some years ago, Aegon was only his brother, his oldest brother, a bit drunk, and a whore, but he was only his brother, and that is when Aemond loved him, he had helped him usurp his sister, because he loved him, and his sister and his family, and he thought that was the way to keep everyone safe

Perhaps he had been wrong

But Aemond didn’t have the strength, nor the luxury of thinking about that, he didn’t dare.

It was what it was

His mother, Alicent, cried silently as the silent sister worked on Aegon’s body, covered his sick and twisted body with gauze and so many oils and ointments to try and cover the stench, finally, they placed the crown of the conqueror over his covered body.

He had not been the King in a while now, so the ceremony was short, but dignified thanks to his mother, but as like Viserys before him, nobody really payed attention to the burial, but rather, his own coronation

He had been acting like prince regent for a while now, but no matter, the ceremony was great, held in the throne room, instead of the Dragon Pit like Aegon’s had been, other lords of all over the Kingdoms had not been invited, they were only notified of the death of Aegon, and the coronation of Aemond.

Aegon had died, now, he was King, and you were not by his side when Criston placed the crown over his head, he looked around the room, looking for you, expecting to see you there smiling shyly, but he couldn’t find you anywhere, he could finally crown you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in all your right

But you were not there

The day

The most important day of his life, and you were nowhere to be found.

He wanted to cry

He wanted to throw himself into his bed and weep

Only Floris was there, standing by the last step of the Throne, looking up at him triumphantly

He wanted to throw up

But he couldn’t show it, for everybody in that room, for all those lickspitters and flatterers, they had won, it was him. Aemond, the right choice, the right brother

The one that studied history and philosophy, the one that trained with the sword, the one that rode the largest dragon in the world

The one who had wed two Queens, that now were with his children in her bellies, the one that worn the conqueror’s crown and held the conqueror’s sword

All the symbols of…

For fucks sake

His grandfather would have been proud

That is what everyone in that room saw, the perfect King

That is who everyone greeted at the banquet afterwards, to the King, the Baratheon Queen, and his mother, the loved Dowager Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower

The court seemed at peace

But it seemed like the peace before the storm

As the feast was raging on, Corlys Velaryon entered the room with the remains of his family, nephews and far off cousins, but impressive nonetheless

He barely nodded to the new anointed monarch, and sat close beside him, at the side of Floris

“You must be pleased to know, your grace, that your Queen is safe, at the palace we discussed”, he said triumphantly, knowingly souring the mood of everyone at the table, “she send her bests, and wishes to be present in this joyous occasion, sadly that cannot be”

“I agree Lord Corlys, soon, it shall all be well again, and I can have my Queen back at my side”, Corlys smiled, and raised his cup at the King, which he answered back, at the scowl of the Queen, and the frown of Floris

Aemond smiled, more confidently now, he was King now

Now, he was settled in power, with two heirs on the way, he was settling on the charge, he had vanquished one of his most powerful enemies while on power, he had won the war

His chest filled with the sense of victory

One step closer

One more, just one more

One enemy left to be slain, and it was going to be fine

All of it, was going to be worth it

He was King now

A real King, anointed by the faith, cherished by the people, supported by half of the great families and at least three of the seven Kingdoms

It could be better.

But it didn’t

Days went by and nothing did.

One day, a very respected member of his kingsguard entered his chambers, he looked nervous

“Your grace, following your instructions, I found something in Queen Floris’ chambers”, he said shakily, he knew how much was at stake, specially if he was wrong

Aemond only looked at him severely

Corlys was sewing scorn, resentment and mistrust in court, and he was not going to stop, until they ripped each other apart

“Queen Floris poisoned our beloved Queen, but she couldn’t do it alone, the question is, why your master of whispers didn’t know it?”, he asked the King as he had called upon him for advice on what to do, “she couldn’t have done it alone, my king”

Reader’s POV

You didn't want to believe it, when Aemond told you he was going to send you away, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you believed you were dreaming.

But it was real

Maids helped you put your things inside coffers, and a sudden happiness filled you

it was true, you were going away

Dragonstone? probably, is the only place that made sense for you

You were begging

But any place could be better than this

You would even go to Casterly fucking rock, instead of this place

Ironic, it should be your home, where your mother was born, where you were born

But it became a prison

You didn't want to believe you were finally going to be free of it until you were walking towards the docks, escorted by the entire Kingsguard and Aemond walking by your side

He was angry

He had promised you that you were going to be the only Queen, soon, and you couldn’t wish for anything but the opposite

This worked

You placed your hand in your belly, he had what he wanted, you could only wish you were expecting a girl and Floris a boy, perhaps then he would leave you alone.

Aemond followed you hand, placing them over yours, as you stopped by when you reached Corlys’ ship at the end of the harbor

“I will send for you soon”, he promised, as he kissed you, you leaned into him, making him believe you would come back

You wouldn’t

ONce you were weak enough to fight this, but not anymore

You were not going to come back, not against your own will.

You grabbed the small hand of your little brother as you helped him aboard the ship

Corlys held you both once the boat left the harbor.

It was funny

From all your Velaryon siblings, you were the one that liked the sea the most, even if your real father was Daemon Targaryen

You found it calming, reassuring, soothing, but it was also something to be weary of, careful, scared of.

The endless sea

“Thank you grandfather”, you whispered, he kissed the top of your head

“I’m here now sweet girl”, he whispered back, “they will pay for everything they have done to us”

There was a time you cursed him, you believed he had betrayed you and your mother, but he didn’t, he needed to get inside, attack from within, he was the Sea Snake, one of the most dangerous men on the seven Kingdoms

And he was on your side

“The sea agrees with you”, he whispered, as with the soft sway of the ship you felt more confident as when you were on mainland

“I got it from you”, you said cheekily, and he smiled warmly

“You are my legacy, history remembers names, not blood”, you only smiled gently

And those words made sense only when you arrived at Dragonstone, where there was two very familiar silvery heads waiting for you

“Baela? Rhaena?”, you called, your half sisters smiling back at you. You ran towards them, as much as you could since you were heavily pregnant

they held you tightly against them

Once the war had started to collect the lives of your grandmother and then your brothers, Corlys had taken them to Driftmark, where they were going to be safe, you never saw them again.

Your stepsisters, your baby brother, your grandfather.

You looked up at the high towers of the huge castle, just in time when your dragon arrived and flied above it and between.

Beautiful

Safe

Your baby kicked inside you and you smiled warmly, he knew he was home too

“You don’t have to worry, little one”, Corlys whispered, “you are home now, I’ll protect you”

But as you approached the castle, you realized it was more… lively, that the last time you saw it, more people, ships on the harbor, banners from houses of the Crownlands, no, it couldn’t be, you recognized from afar the house sigil of the Celtigars

“What is going on?”, you asked

“The Lords are greeting you back home, where you belong, you, your brother, and the princeling”, now Corlys had the winning hand, having all the royal bloodlines under his protection.

When you entered the hall, you were met with all the lords of the Crownlands, everyone bowed when they saw you, smiling brightly at you, you smiled shyly back, as they guided you towards the Dragonstone throne.

Encouraged by Corlys, you took a seat in the throne, something you didn’t even see your mother do.

You gazed at all the lords, who didn’t even look in your direction when you lived inside these walls, when you were the last child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and they could see how they disappointed you in your face, in the frown in your face.

Many of them started talking, amongst each other, and some towards you, many apologies, a lot of everything

“We failed you once, our sweet Queen”, one man stood above all the others, “ we will not fail you again”, said Lord Celtigar, taking a knee to you, and all the other Lords followed

“To the Queen, and Prince Viserys!”, chanted one, and everyone echoed it

“For our late Queen Rhaenyra!”, chanted another and once again, your mother’s name was being called in the halls of Dragonstone

WELL, BRING ITTTT hahaha

It is going to be a long epilogue...

#misguidedmistress #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x floris baratheon #house of the dragon #hbo house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen

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ryuzakemo128 · 3 months ago

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Wrath of a Scorned Woman

Pairings: Freyja Raengyreon & Floris Baratheon / Aemond Targaryen x Female Velaryon Reader

Content Warning: cussing and swearing.

Words: 765

Masterlist

Credit 4 Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Heavy footsteps had come from down a cavernous hall. Floris ringing a bell from a velvet cushion, engraved dragons into the gold bell. “You are a coward, and I will see that history forgets you.” Floris spoke, looking at Aemond with his mistress.

“You have mistaken your own importance, husband. I have no further need of you or this ‘marriage’. I have found something greater than anything you could have ever provided me.” Floris eyes narrowed at her would be ex-husband. “I have found a dragon grander and greater than your eyes had ever seen.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Heavy footsteps had come from down a cavernous hall. Floris ringing a bell from a velvet cushion, engraved dragons into the gold bell. “You are a coward, and I will see that history forgets you.” Floris spoke, looking at Aemond with his mistress.

Towering over the three of them, a woman, a giantess of a woman. Eyes of blue violet mixed with light grey. Lumen in the dimly lit room. Burgundy red hair long enough to brush across the floor. Freyja didn’t have to say anything. All she had to do is stand there. A clear enough warning to those who break their oaths.

Floris might have harmed his mistress. But Aemond did something far, far worse. He ruined her chances of having children of her own. Ruined her chance of getting something she wanted. She didn’t care for the consequences, damn them all, and she will bring his entire house around his head. Bring him to his pathetic knees and crush him like he crushed her. May he die in a pool of ruin, like the seven have foretold in legends.

Floris determined to bring down her soon-to-be ex-husband and his mistress. She didn’t care if she were to die in the process. She had a dragon, and for once in her life she had the power to change things to make her own life better. Better for herself and her house. “Greens can’t keep their oaths, it seems.” Freyja snarled into his ear. “Can’t help themselves, can’t help but ruin everything they touch with their slimy, rotten hands.”

Floris’s smug grin spread across her face, ‘I will crush your bones until you lay broken in front of me. You will watch your house burn until nothing, but cinders, ashes and embers, remain. I will have you dragged from one end of king’s landing to the other until you are swimming in an ocean of pain.’

Aemond looked into Freyja’s eyes, his heart beating like a drum inside his chest, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Floris.”

“But I do. According to your brother. You just need her. This marriage is no longer needed if that is the case.” Floris snapped at him. “And you. (Y/N) You have nothing to give, and you are worth nothing in comparison. Keep that pathetic excuse of a man. Keep him as you rot into the earth when I am done with you. You shall bear witness as I ruin him and everything that he will ever have. I will kill you all and decorate you on my walls. A better end than you are worthy of.”

(Y/N) spoke up, "You think you can just cast us aside? You're a fool, Floris. Aemond is the heir to House Targaryen, and I am his chosen. Your threats mean nothing to me."

"Aemond is prince regent and Aegon's son is his heir. Your existence means nothing to me any longer." Floris corrected. "Perhaps if you were more interested in books than Aemond's cock, you would have learned that by now."

“As you can see, I do not need you anymore. I have found someone greater than you. Grander. She will give me everything I want and more.” Floris declared, she found herself a dragon. A dragon more liable to eat the ones the House of Targaryen rides. “We have no further need of House Targaryen. Take your leave NOW.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and walked out of the room.

Freyja glared at the two of them, “I will devour your dragons, crush their bones and force your entire family to watch. You will not leave this world without knowing the pain you have brought down. I will eat your dragon sheepstealer, Vhagar and Sunfire. A mere snack. A small payment for what you have done to my benefactor. Or you could annul this pitiful marriage you have no interest in and leave. Otherwise, I will, and can, devour all that you are. All that you will ever be.”

Freyja stood guard outside of Floris’s bedchambers. Disallowing entry to anyone Floris did not approve of. “Aemond take your mistress (Y/N) Targaryen and leave. You are no longer worthy of Floris Baratheon.” Freyja growled as she prevented him from chasing after Floris.

#aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond x female reader #aemond x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #female reader #f! reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #prince aemond #aemond kinslayer #prince regent aemond #floris baratheon #Freyja Raengyreon & Floris Baratheon

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tallemajas-scriptorium · 1 year ago

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I’m writing an Aemond x Brune!reader x Floris now I’m thinking of Aemond Targaryen x reader x Floris Baratheon x Alys Rivers and how that would work. 🫠

Dude think about it fr

Aemond would have his bear queen reader, his stag queen Floris and his witch queen Alys

My Sappho is showing lemme tuck that back in.

@chompchompluke am I weird?

👁️👄👁️

#asoiaf #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd #ewan nation #ewanverse #alys rivers #floris baratheon #floris baratheon x reader #alys rivers x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader

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angrylittletrashpanda · 6 months ago

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Why the heck people are cheering for Aemond and the Madam s*x scene(s)?

To start with, I don’t understand how did the fans arrive at the rock-solid certainty there will be such scenes in the show? As far as I know, nothing is confirmed (yet). AFAIK in one interview, Michelle Bonard (the Madam’s actress) said she “got a little naked” and some believe it means she filmed a sex scene. Given Michelle is playing a sex worker, I doubt she meant we’re going simply see her changing her dress or bathing, but does “getting a little naked” or filming a nude scene actually mean having a sex scene? In GoT, we saw a bunch of Littlefinger scenes, which took place in pleasure houses he owned. In the background, we could then easily spot his more or less underdressed “employees” . I think it’s entirely possible we *may* actually see a déshabillé Michelle in any tavern/brothel scene (for instance at one of Aegon’s wild parties). ATP we can’t even rule out she could be involved in the BnC subplot. Frankly, there is something quite appealing about two lowly born women, like the Madam and Mysaria, teaming up for the “Team Smallfolk’s” sake. Don’t get me wrong, I am not cheering about BnC, but I think the Madam could not be Aegon’s greatest fan and condemn his taste for watching children fighting in pits.

Moreover, even if in this case, “getting a little naked” means “filming a s*x scene�� indeed, we can’t be 100% certain it was a love scene with Ewan/Aemond specifically. Come on, Michelle plays a literal sex worker, and not Aemond’s secret girlfriend.

I know there is a popular theory that the Madam is actually Mystery Lady on whose lap Aemond pillows his head on, since we can spot the same vein protrusion on Michelle’s hand and there’s a strand of dark hair around that woman’s neck. In my view, the vein protrusion doesn’t prove anything – we could easily find a very same one on almost every woman’s flexed hand, including HOTD actresses’. And as for the strands of hair – I initially failed to spot them, and now, I think they look quite like a chain Alicent used to wear in SE1. But enough about the Mystery Lady theories.

I just wanna say I fail to understand why so many “Aemond fans” seem to be really excited about the possible Aemond x the Madam s*x scene(s)? From season one, we learn Aemond was dragged to the brothel when he was 13. In 09x01, we see he’s really uncomfortable around that woman. Which indicates his experience in the pleasure house wasn’t an enjoyable one, to say the least. Why Aemond, who “has no taste for depravity” and doesn’t want to be like his pervy brother would seek comfort in the arms of a sex worker? It sounds rather ooc for him ,tbf. I get it that in SE 2, we’re probably gonna see Aemond at his lowest. We all know excessive drinking and debauchery are Aegon’s copying mechanisms, but wouldn’t it be more interesting if Aemond’s were different from his brother’s?

In my view, Aemond’s “relationship”w/the Madam doesn’t foreshadow his relationship with Alys, since the Witch of Harenhall never forced herself on him. The actresses don’t even look alike.

To my knowledge, a bunch of people are happy about the Aemond x the Madam thing, since they believe it would be helaemond erasure. But can’t Aemond’s feelings for Helaena be brotherly (in the non-Targaryen way) even without him sleeping with sex workers? In addition, helaemond is widely disliked for its hypocrisy. This ship is deemed OOC, since the dutiful Aemond would never cuck the crown prince and neither would he dishonor his sister. Plus, he takes pride in being different than Aegon. In season 2, Aemond is already engaged. So, wouldn’t frequenting brothels mean Aemond dishonors his fiancée Floris the very same way Aegon dishonors his wife Helaena?

#anti hotd #anti aemond stans #aemond targaryen x floris baratheon #helaemond #aegon and aemond

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crescenthoax · 10 months ago

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I really associate the quote “The dead don’t need lovers.” “I know but I still love her.” from Thrones with I’m never gonna love again. Grief is such a permeating theme and maybe even the core theme of the story? But I love it and that quote reminds me of so many dynamics and moments like Aegon and Helaena (though, I didn’t get romantic vibes from that relationship, more platonic/sibling and Aegon loves her more so in that way), Annika and Rhys (Even though they were mad toxic) Aemond and Floris (TO ME, I never got negative vibes from them. Him fucking Alys seems to be out of grief and stress more than anything) and even Annika and Aegon at certain points when they think the other is dead, because those parts always break my heart.

I totally know what you mean! That is one of the quotes that basically sums up the entire story, and yes of course grief is the main topic of the plot. I wanted this story to be all about love, grief, friendships and family… You know. A love letter to life itself. So yeah that’s what actually made me explore a little bit more of the other relationships in the story not just Aegon and Annika’s, and oddly my favourite ones are Floris and Aemond and a little bit of Helaena and Aegon which I totally agree in the platonic/sibling thing.

I also feel like Aegon and Helaena’s relationship it’s kind of a weird parallel with Annika and Rhys as well because if you think about it Helaena and Aegon were forced into marriage and Annika and Rhys were forced apart. Now I know he was a disgusting piece of crap and groomed her and used her and etc, but the way he violently died and was ripped apart from her is a pretty traumatic experience to live, also Aegon losing Hel, a sister and wife AND mother to his children to suicide… I completely played with the survivors guilt and grief in both of them and if you really squint there’s a lot of those things still lingering on their personalities.

As for Floris and Aemond I know [my] Aemond is not everyone’s favourite but I don’t know… I feel like the lore about them I think every night before falling asleep is too deep and complex to even begin with. I adore them, even though he’s terrible and she deserves so much better, and yes, I see everyone pointing out that he’s not exactly mourning her but I think he is in his own way -and I will write about it. Just because.

#im never gonna love again #team green #aegon x oc #helaegon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon and annika #aemond and floris

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humanpurposes · 5 months ago

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I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 3

Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.

Warnings: 18+, smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort

A/n: I watched episode 2 and went... yeah he needs an emotional support wife <3

I don’t flinch at the sound of steel. I stand steadfast on the outlook over the yard, my hair loose about my shoulders, my gown one of Baratheon black and gold. The clouds over King’s Landing this morning are heavy and ominous. I could almost imagine I am back at Storm’s End, watching the knights spar in the courtyard before the drum tower.

Aemond is a graceful fighter, but brutal and precise. He has no taste for tourneys, he does not fight for performance. He parries and deflects the blows from Ser Arryk’s sword with ease, then once he finds an opening he makes short work of disarming his opponent, forcing him to his knees and placing the blade against his throat.

The closeness between Aemond and I ebbs and flows. As of late we are making good progress; I’ve been watching his morning sparring sessions for the last few weeks. Afterwards we’ll retire to his chambers and take luncheon together before we part ways until the evening. Last night we dined with the Queen, and having returned me to my chambers, he kissed me.

He does not smile when he looks up at me from the yard. His expression is gentle and not quite passive. He says I am a good wife. He says he is content to have me by his side, and yet he leaves me to an empty bed each night. I keep waiting for the moment he’ll decide we are ready to fulfil our vows. In the meantime I despair that I am no different from any girl at the Red Keep who dreams of a handsome husband and a perfect marriage which is not yet in reach. At least Helaena has her children to keep her occupied; I might as well be unmarried.

Aemond and Ser Arryk take their positions again.

Aemond lurches forward to strike first. His opponent meets him with swift, succinct blocks, but Aemond is eager to match him in speed. There’s a stiffness in his shoulders as he moves, but he must keep his head in the right position, he must not let his blindspot leave him vulnerable to an attack.

I catch glimpses of his face as he moves, his lips pressed together, his single eye dark and determined.

A nervous feeling flutters in my belly.

A small crowd has gathered to watch them, nobles, other knights, servants, looking upon my husband with both admiration and fear– I feel a sense of pride in the awe Aemond inspires.

Suddenly he falters.

Ser Arryk takes the opportunity to disarm him, but Aemond is not one to concede easily. He draws the knife on his belt, ducking to avoid Ser Arryk’s blows, until he’s close enough to aim the knife at the knight’s throat.

Ser Arryk anticipates this and drops his sword, fighting with his hands to keep some distance between Aemond’s knife and his skin. The crowd is anxious now. The slashes of Aemond’s knife are too close. I dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from reacting too obviously.

Ser Arryk grabs Aemond’s right wrist with his left hand, and throws a fist towards the left side of his face– his blind side.

I feel the impact as if I’ve been struck in the stomach.

Aemond freezes, dropping his knife. He covers his face with his hands. There is no blood that I can see but my heart races.

I’m halfway down the steps before I realise what I’m doing.

Ser Arryk is horrified with himself, trying to offer some help to the Prince, only for Aemond to push him away. Servants gather, unsure of what to do, hovering around him like he is a wounded beast.

I push people out of my way so I can reach him. I place a hand over his, where he cradles his eyepatch. His breathing is quick and heavy, his hand is shaking under my palm.

I whisper, “I’m here.”

He tugs at my sleeve, a bruising grip sinking through the fabric and into my skin, around my very bones. He leans into me, his forehead pressing against the top of my head. “I’m fine,” he grits through his teeth.

“My Lady,” Ser Arryk begins, “I’m sorry– I must have acted out of impulse– I–”

“Fetch a maester,” I order.

“Not necessary,” Aemond says.

Ser Arryk hesitates.

“Fetch a maester!”

“No!” Aemond says, suddenly straightening his back and releasing me from his hold. My heart sinks at the sight of his scar, flared, red, angry. He keeps his fists clenched by his sides, denying himself the pain. “That will be all, Ser Arryk, I shall retire to my chambers.”

He marches off and I trail helplessly behind.

Full chapter on AO3

#my fics #florismond #floris x aemond #floris baratheon x aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fic #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #floris baratheon #aemond targaryen smut #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fic #asoiaf fanfic

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florisbaratheons · 1 year ago

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I’m excited to read your Aemond/Floris fic (or more accurately the parts that are Aemond/Floris) because I feel like that’s such a tragically underutilized pairing. Usually Floris is “The Other Woman” in Aemond fics and she gets shit on for no reason lol. I like it when unexpanded upon female characters get some spotlight

Thank you! We've still got a ways to go before it sees the light of day. This fic is gonna be huge. Isn't it sad? And what little we got of her in 1x10 was fantastic. She was with that shit, she didn't even flinch when Aemond lost his marbles and started yelling at Luke. The girl moved to get a better view! Truly a shame because I feel like they would have gotten along quite well and probably would have had a happy life together.

It was that little bit that made my brain run away with me and go "What if?" And like, she's the youngest daughter of Borros Baratheon, who was a formidable warrior, and had a temper. Borros said that the girls would fight constantly, but be fine five minutes later. Their relationship is so interesting to think about - very "No one can pick on you but me-esque," lmao. And in this, Floris and her sisters meet Aemond very young - he is sent to ward at Storm's End after losing his eye, so he grows up with the Four Storms, and the older girls think of him as an annoying little brother but they love him anyway. (Elenda Caron isn't pleased when she realizes that the little boy with one eye comes with a dragon the size of a mountain tho.)

Floris truly gains the respect and love of the Greens. She terrifies Aegon, especially with her knife fetish, hehe. Alicent and Helaena adore her, and she and Aemond view each other as partners and very dear friends. She is magnificently loyal to them as well as her own family and her sisters, and when she meets Jeyne Arryn, Lady Jeyne gives her the moniker "The Dragon Wife".

Ruby Hartley is my faceclaim for Floris, and yes I know she and Ewan worked together on TLK, lol.

#answered #anonymous #aemond targaryen #floris baratheon #aemond x floris #team green #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #upcoming fics #got #alicent hightower #we queue the way

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ladybug023 · 2 years ago

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Small Maris Baratheon x Aemond Drabble

(Maris sometimes cross dresses as Marcus Storm to sneak out and do what she wants.)

Aemond Targaryen, the forever stoic and brooding dragonrider, never imagined himself in this situation. He found himself standing in a crowded tavern, looking down at Maris Baratheon who was dressed in men's clothing with a pint of ale in her hand while she swayed happily to the music.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing here, Maris?" Aemond asked, his voice stern.

Maris looked more amused than shocked to see him. "It is Marcus,” She corrected. “And I could ask you the same thing. What brings you to this fine establishment One Eye?"

Aemond scowled at the nickname. "I came to get you." Aemond said. "You shouldn't be here, dressed like that and drunker than a Bravosii."

Maris scoffed. "I am a Baratheon, we know how to have a good time. Relax, have a drink with me and live a little for once in your life.”

Aemond’s patience was wearing thin. He was here to make sure Maris didn't embarrass her family, especially her younger sister who he was betrothed to. He couldn't let anything ruin that alliance.

"Suit yourself, but I will leave when I am good and ready," Maris said, taking another swig of ale from her tankard.

Aemond had enough. "Fine, I will have to drag you out then." he said, reaching for her arm.

Maris was quick, though. She dodged his grasp and put him in a headlock. "You want to wrestle, One Eye? Let's wrestle!" she said, laughing.

Aemond struggled to break free, Maris was surprisingly strong. He had heard that Boremund Baratheon taught his granddaughters how to wrestle but he didn’t think she’d be this good. They fell to the ground in a tangled mess, and Aemond couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement at the physical contact. As they rolled around, Maris finally pinned the Targaryen to the dusty tavern floor. She looked him in the eye as he panted from the tussle.

“You know, One Eye, I think we might be having too much fun," she said with a wolffish grin.

#I’m having so much fun writing these little drabbles #maris baratheon #aemond targaryen #floris baratheon #the four storms #house of the dragon #aemond x maris

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dragynfirearc · 2 years ago

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‘cause i could touch a hundred thousand souls, but none of them would feel like home. no matter how far and wide i roam, you’re the only one that i’ll ever know. ft. @roseguided

#roseguided #visuals: aemond targaryen.#re: aemond x floris.#rp: my edits.#i love them sldkjf

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misguidedasgardian · 2 years ago

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The Dragon's Mistress (10)

10. Mistress

MASTERLIST

Summary: Every actions has its reasons, and its consequences

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, technically cheating, groping, nakedness, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.5 k

Notes: Yes, I did feel pressured to post this sooner, that is why is shorter… :( and no, I did not like what I’ve been feeling the last hours…

Lord Borros Baratheon had his niece

That is what occupied Aemond’s mind as he saw you abandoning the throne room with tears in your eyes and whimpers in your mouth

That uncultured swine had his niece Jahaera

He “rescued her” when Rhaenyra had taken the capital and Alicent send her and Maelor away to Old Town, the children never got to the city, but they were stopped along the way, and eventually some baratheon soldiers rescue them from a mob, Maelor didn’t make it, but Jahaera did. And Borros he let it clear that he was not going to return her to her family in King’s Landing if he didn’t marry his daughter

He told himself that it didn’t matter if he did, with you, he already had you, tainted you, fucked you, put his seed on you, you were probably with his child in your belly, but he, as king, could legitimize all the children you were going to have, and Floris? he could bed her and gave her moon tea in the morning after without her even releasing it

You were going to be the mother of the future King of the seven Kingdoms, he had no doubt in his mind about it, and once he had his darling niece in his arms again, he was going to kill Borros and his entire line for even daring to threaten them.

He couldn’t chase after you right now, this was his first appearance as clear future King of the Seven Kingdoms, so he couldn’t just run like a fifteen year old behind his love.

So he sucked it up, grabbed the bony hand of Floris Baratheon, and presented her to the entire court in the middle of applause and cheers.

She was not an ugly woman, she had her charm, she was the youngest of Borros’ daughters, the same age as him, she had beautiful dark brown locks, and hazelnut colored eyes shaped like almonds. She was the one he had chosen that night three years ago in Storm’s End, the one he never got to marry, well, not until today.

His body was burning with the need to search for you, but sadly he couldn’t, not yet, and he also wante to smack the smile out of Borros’ face

His mother also seemed sickenly pleased, she had come to him the night before, asking him to leave you and marry Floris, when he didn’t budge she had to confess Borros had Jahaera. That is when he knew he had no choice, but he made his mother budge too, she was not going to betroth you to anybody else, she was not going to send you away.

She was going to him to keep you as his mistress.

Lord Borros was not happy about it, and he made it clear that he was not going to return Jahaera until after the wedding and bedding ceremony, Aemond was fuming, but he had to comply, that little girl is the only family he had left, the last reminding of his gentle sister, and his last full-blooded niece.

This was the most important day in his life, and the only thing he wanted to do was to run to your room and held you in his arms, tell you everything was going to be alright, tell you he didn’t meant to break his promise, that he meant it every time he said that you were going to be his Queen

But he was tied by the hands

He had to get his little niece back

When the ceremony was over, he bowed but only to his betrothed, kissing her hand and making her blush, he nodded to his mother and to Borros, and then he abandoned the hall under his mother’s worried gaze

He finally went to find you.

it broke his heart to find you cuddled in your bed, crying

As soon as you heard him come in you raised from the bed, wiping your tears

“My King”, you greeted and under other circumstances, his heart would have roared with happiness, but know he only felt bitter. You sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him, you thought you saw sorrow in his eyes, but you were probably just imagining things

“My love”

“Please, I have to ask you do not call me that”, you hated yourself for how weak your voice sounded

“That is what you are”, he said, but you only shook your head

“I’m not”, you said, he sat by your side on the bed, leaning over you, trying to comfort you

“My love will always belong to you”, he whispered in your ear as he caressed your hair, “I have to marry her for political purposes, nothing else”

“You humiliate me”, you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks

“I know this is not what I promised”, he said, “but there is an important reason, you have to believe me”, you only looked down to the floor, “but we will be together”, you then looked at him wide eyed, fresh tears forming in your eyes, “being a King’s Mistress is a post of great importance”, he muttered, “and I will legitimize all the children that we will have”

“You told me you were going to marry me”, you whined, “I gave you my body… I let you do whatever you pleased with me”

“You will be respected, and cared for, you will be treated like a princess again”, he continued his bargain, and you only whimpered, placing your hand over your heart, because it hurt

“Please don’t do this to me”, you pleaded

“Nothing will change, you will be respected, your son will be King one day”

“No he won’t”, you whined, “he will only be a bastard”

“No”, he said, you wiped your tears, angry with yourself for being so bloody weak

“What if I don’t want to?”, to your question his face hardened, and it made you tremble, “you won’t marry me, but you won’t let me marry anyone else, can I please go back to Dragonstone?”, you asked with hope in your teary eyes, but you could tell he was keeping himself in check not to burst in anger

“Everyone knows that I fuck you”, he said in a manner so mean, you whined, “you are going to be my mistress and embrace it, or you are going to be only my whore”, he spitted out, “you have one day to come around”, he said, he stood up from the bed and abandoned the room, and you along the way

What was more pathetic than to cry because a man that abused you and killed your family wouldn’t marry you?

You couldn’t come out with an answer to that question

You had made up your mind that this was what you had to do to make everything worth it, but it was snatched from under your feet like a carpet and now you were landing flat on your face, again.

You whined, as you were hurting in your chest

“You are a Targaryen”, resounded the voice of your mother in your head, “That is all that matters”

“Dragons are fire made flesh, and Targaryens are dragons made men”, said Daemon

“You must be strong”, said Jacaerys

“I CAN’T!”, you screamed wanting all the voices inside your head to disappear, “I’m none of those things”, you whispered sadly

Aemond was not angry, he was frustrated

He understand you would be disappointed that you were not going to marry him, but he never thought you would have want to leave back to Dragonstone

That is what frustrated him the most

He naively thought that you would want to stay here no matter what

“You will never have her heart”, Alys once said, and he growled when he head her voice as clearly as she was whispering in his ear

The new appointed small council had gathered and he was supposed to be there, once he got there, everybody as there already

Tyland Lannister

Borros

Even his mother even though she didn’t have a clear post in it, but being mother to the King and the Regent as well

“My King”, she greeted, pleased as she saw him enter the room

“We were discussing dates for the marriage ceremony”, said Borros, so pleased with himself that Aemon wanted to punch him in the face

“I think is insensitive… to marry while my brother the King is dying”

“Aemond, I’m aware, but…”

“Marriage, celebrations, are for the living boy”, said Borros, and Aemond’s jaw was was ticking

“In a fortnight”, Alicent offered, and Aemond nodded

“Being considerate of the current climate all over the seven Kingdoms, it is going to be a sober affair”, Aemond said, and he didn’t want to budge on that

“Of course my king”, said Borros

“Ravens will be send communicating everyone of the marriage, but only a few of the most important families will be invited”, said Alicent

“What about the girl?”, asked Borros, and Aemond looked at him

“What girl?”, he threatened

“Rhaenyra’s last daughter”, he said, “is she your whore?”, Aemond looked at him, a silent warning in his eye

“She is not a whore”, he growled

“You bedded her, you are bedding her…”, the man continued, an the entire council got quiet, waiting for the answer of their King Regent

“But I’m marrying your daughter”, he said with a sharp voice

“You must understand that it is my daughter who will carry the heirs to the throne”, he said with a warning of his own on his lips, Aemond looked at him like he wanted to kill him, which he did

“And you must understand that I’m marrying her”, he said, “instead of the princess”, Borros looked into his eye, trying to intimidate him, but it didn’t work

“Very well”, he conceded

He was not going to yield to anything else, he couldn’t, he owed it to you. The meeting went long, they started talking about things related to the realms, and that took him the rest of the day.

When it was finally done, the only thing he wanted to do was to see you. .

He found you still in your room, more calmed than when he left you, when you hear him come in you stood up from your place in front of the hearth and bowed

“My king”, you greeted, with the voice of a little bird instead of a human

“My love”, you flinched when he called you that, but you couldn’t see his reaction as you still looked down to the floor, not daring to look at him in the eyes

“How was your day?”, you asked, adapted a demeanor similar to the one you had learned to have in Dragonstone, like the one of a personal servant, a handmaid. You didn't really gave a shit, but you had to be cordial

“I just had a very long meeting”, he thought it best to keep you away from the details of his marriage to Floris Baratheon

“I am sorry”, you wanted him to leave, but you were nobody to kick the King Regent out of the rooms of his own castle.

He walked until he had you at arms reach, and he caressed your upper arms gently

“Don’t you wish we could take a long bath like we did in Dragonstone?”, he offered, you looked at him, and the coldness in your eyes made him shiver, even though he didn’t show it

“We can do anything you like, my king”, you said, again, your voice so low, so insignificant it squeezed his heart, and he, again, was starting to get frustrated

“Very well”, he had the maids prepare the bath, and when you were alone in the bathroom, he helped you out of your dress, you just let him, he then undid the braids in your hair and removed your jewelry.

You then undressed him, and even appreciated when he didn’t make you touch him

He help you into the bath, and he got in with you

The bathtub was bigger than the one in Dragonstone, you both fit perfectly together. He grabbed the sponge and started to rub your shoulders and your upper arms, he had a fixation with that part of your body you noticed.

You let yourself be handled by him, touched by him

“I love your hair”, he whispered to your ear, and if you haven't been crying for most part of the day, you would have laughed. You had the same color as him

“Thank you, my king”

“please”, it sounded like he was begging, “call me Aemond”, he sounded pitiful

“As you wish, Aemond”, you whispered. He kissed your shoulder softly, gently, as he fingers greedily caressed your back and your body, of course he wanted you, and now it was your job as his mistress to please him in that way

So you leaned back and let him touch you and kiss you

He couldn’t see you, but bitter tears fell down your eyes, but you managed to not make a sound

Luckily he noticed how tense you were, so he didn’t push you, instead he just helped you get out of the tub, he help you dry and then put on your night dress

“I should be doing this things to you my prince”, you offered, even though you didn’t have the strength to do it

“It is alright”, he got you into bed and then followed you, holding you in his arms, you appreciated the comfort, you just wished it came from someone else rather than him

“I’m very sorry”, he whispered in your ear

“You don’t don’t have to be, Aemond”, you whispered

“But I am”, he insisted, “believe me, I was forced into this”

“You don’t have to give me any explanations”, you sai, broken

“But I do”

“Please My King”

“Call me Aemond”

“I don’t feel comfortable, please, just.. let me call you my king”, you insisted, he sighed loudly, but didn’t refuse you

“I want you to call me by my name”

“But is not proper”, you said, “I am not going to be your wife”, his breathing hitched

“Call me your King then”, he relented, his fingers never stopped caressing your arm

You were lucky he wasn’t making you look at him in the day, he was comfortable with only spoon you

“I will sleep with you every night”, he promised

“You wife won’t be happy with that”, you observed

“I don’t give care”, he said

“Please, don’t make this more difficult that is has to be”, you begged him, the last thing you needed was to make enemies with the new Queen

“You can tell her that”, you didn’t press it

Did you even believe him? that someone made him do it? you believed no one could make him do anything, but again, he sounded so sincere when he said he was going to marry you.

Anyways, you were feeling so terribly every breath you took hurts.

#misguidedmistress #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader #floris baratheon #alicent hightower

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