#ameond targaryen fic

[yovrstruly00]

tainted faces

What if Lucerys Velaryon was born a girl? AND that Aemond Targaryen is head over heels for her instead!

tainted faces | part two

tainted faces | part three

tainted faces | part four

trigger warning: cursing, knives, injuries, Aegon smashing Lyssaera's head on the table, incest (uncle x niece),,

genre: angst?? idk, possible enemies to lovers,,

Lyssaera Velaryon, Aemond fumes at the sight of her. The one who slashed his face with a blade and took his eye. The one who made him look like this, the one who made him hideous to look at. How can someone so beautiful be the source of all his pain?

Aemond scans her carefully during supper, as she grins and smirks when a roasted pig is placed before him. He slams his fist on the table and takes his goblet, drawing the attention of everyone in the dining hall. He raises his goblet, starting a toast.

"A final tribute," he starts. "To the health of my nephews and niece, Jace, Lyssaera, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, beautiful, wise..." he pauses as he purses his lip.

"strong," he continued, mockery behind his voice.

"Aemond" the queen calls out to him.

"Come! Let us drain our cups to these three strong-" he said, but was cut off by Jacaerys.

"I dare you say that again." Jacaerys taunted.

"Why? It was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?" The whole table gasped when Jacaerys took his fist to Aemond's face. Lyssaera stood up, but Aegon crashed her head on the table, making Alicent shout at him.

"Enough!" Alicent shouts. Aemond chuckled as the guards restrained Jacaerys. "Why would you say such a thing in front of these people?" Alicent rushed to Aemond. "I was nearly expressing how proud I am of my family mother, but it seems my nephew and niece aren't quite as proud of theirs." Aemond said.

"You fucking cunt! Let go of me!" Lyssaera shouts at Aegon, who is still holding her down. Aegon scoffs and releases Lyssaera. Once Aegon released his hold on her, she slapped Aemond on the face.

"Lyssaera!" Daemon shouted, making his way to his stepdaughter. Lyssaera made a mistake looking back at him. Aemond took his blade from the knife holster attached to the belt on his waist as held her neck, choking her.

"Aemond let her go!" Alicent and Rhaenyra shouted. Aemond did not hesitate swiftly slicing Lyssaera's cheek, making her scream in pain. Aemond was pulled away by his grandfather, just as Lyssaera was caught by Daemon. Lyssaera's screams filled the whole dining hall. Blood was running down her neck, arms, and to her dress. Rhaenyra and Jacaerys rushed towards Lyssaera as she was crying in pain. The salt in her tears touched her sliced skin. Daemon stood in front of his family and Aemond.

"Painful isn't it? This seems all too familiar, don't you agree? Look at yourself, we are now both terrifying to look at. Scarred for a lifetime. No men or lords will wed you in that condition. No man will wed a woman like you, a woman with a hideous scar on her face." Aemond hissed, anger evident in his voice. He didn't care about the angry eyes on him. At the moment, all he cared about was her. The way she was looking at him. The hatred and pain in her eyes. Aemond looked at the sliced skin, the slice running from the upper point of her cheek to her upper lip, it was deep, deep enough to leave an ugly scar. A scar that will remind her of him.

That late in the night, Lyssaera's wails filled the Red Keep as well as Aemond's ears. He cringes as he recalls the night when Lyssaera took his eye. That night, while the maesters were stitching up his eye and skin, he cried out in agony. Guilt consumes him as he considers how he ruined her dangerously beautiful yet angelic face. A beauty for which any man would die for. A beauty for which any man would fight for. But Aemond is not simply a man, because men do not ride dragons. And with this, he would not let any low life man pursue his Lyssaera. He smirks at the thought that no man would wed her because of the scar he carved out on her face. A scar that will remind every living person that Lyssaera Velaryon was his and only his.

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 4: Cindrella Moment ~ Aemond Targaryen/OC [2,252 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Anyone can appear fair if they have the gold.

It was something Jeyne’s mother was excessively fond of saying. Usually when someone she disliked looked particularly fetching. And though her family had all departed the capital within weeks of her wedding to Prince Aemond, Jeyne’s mind had now taken to saying it when her mother was not here to do so. Although tonight, it was in response to her own reflection.

She wasn’t ugly, she knew that. It would have been an insult for her parents to offer her up to the Targaryens if she was. Nor was she, however, the sort of woman who had people stopping in their tracks around court in order to stare – in lust, jealousy, or some combination of the two. Aegon himself had commented on it within her earshot.

She’s all right, brother, but from how you never stray, you’d think she was something…well, more.

Jeyne had cast her gaze downwards towards her plate, seated as ever to her husband’s right during the dinner during which Prince Aegon had decided it was fitting to start such a conversation.

You are a prince, you know. It’s your duty to have a little fun. Don’t tell me the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.

In response to that, Aemond had sighed impatiently, well used to his brother’s antics by now, and then turned his head to speak to her instead. Judging by how he stilled thereafter, he’d realised that she had heard every word. Jeyne hadn’t known what to expect after that. Were it another man of the court, her husband wouldn’t have stood for it purely on principle, but it was his brother – and Targaryens were…funny with one another. In many ways. She wouldn’t get far if she expected civil war to break out every time one of her husband’s kin raised an eyebrow at her.

Which was why she was stunned when her husband took up his knife, and drove it into the table scarcely a hair’s breadth from his brother’s hand. Aegon had laughed that that, but the comments ceased. Within earshot, at least.

Appearances were a funny thing here, and still something Jeyne was growing used to – for back home, so long as she appeared neat and orderly, she never gave the matter much thought. Here in the capital, it was more coded. She now represented not only the royal family, but also her husband. Were it only one or the other, it would have been simpler. To represent her new House, that of the Targaryens, she had to be richly dressed so that none would think them weak, albeit not too lavishly or else they’d appear wasteful. But Aemond? Aemond’s tastes were fine, yet simple. His clothing was always impeccable and of fine quality, but there was little about it that did not serve a purpose. It would be easy to appear frivolous in comparison – or worse, like she did not share his values. It was often difficult for Jeyne to think she was meeting the standard of one without somehow failing the other.

Of course, Aemond never made her feel that way, so she knew it was simply her own standards for herself – combined with the imaginary or guessed standards other might have for her – that had her worried. He was a man of few words, but his displeasure was seldom subtle. Indeed, on more than one occasion she’d caught him looking over whatever dress she was wearing that day, one corner of his lips tugging upwards in a smirk, before he would show her his appreciation for her appearance that night. Often while murmuring filthy things, but only ever in High Valyrian, so she could not understand them. Regardless of how much she wished she could.

Still, today was her husband’s name day, and so she wanted to make an effort. For him.

It began with a new method of attending to her hair – a very dangerous method that her handmaiden swore by, involving hot metal that all but seared it into fetching ringlets. He liked her hair down. That much he’d been happy to tell her in the common tongue, at least. The gown she was something she was much more nervous about. Made of brown and gold damask that had caught her eye the moment the seamstress showed it to her, and accented with vivid golden ribbon, it was fine but understated…and with a neckline that she considered rather daring, by her standards.

Oftentimes she’d envy the ladies of the court who could sport the bold fashions, the ones that bared them down almost to the ribcage in a manner that should not have been tasteful but was. She would never be one of those ladies, for whenever her neckline delved but a handful of inches below her collarbones she always felt hopelessly exposed, but tonight she would see it through regardless if only in hopes of prodding a reaction from Aemond.

Knowing him and his self-mastery, though, that was an intimidating goal indeed. But one that she kept in mind with increasing determination – and one that she felt significantly more optimistic about when she noted how people reacted to her. It was the same every time, a first glance upon noticing her and then a second take; a full stare, as they took in her appearance and who she was.

Aemond’s mouse is masquerading as a dragon, the whispers said.

Jeyne was happy to hear them. It meant it was working.

She arrived to dinner just at the tail-end of being on time; unusual for her, for typically she was early for being early. Her handmaiden had sorely underestimated how long it would take for them to attend to her hair, but as Jeyne strode into the hall, she kept her head held high and simply pretended it had all been part of the plan. He would like that.

King Viserys appeared a mix of amused and disinterested when she strode up to the head table, but Queen Alicent had a warm smile on her face as she paused before the table and dipped into a curtsey. When she arose, she looked straight to her Aemond. His eye was pinned on her, a sort of intrigue shining there that was usually reserved for when he saw a move in the training yard that he very much wished to replicate.

“Good name day to you, husband,” she said, returning his gaze evenly.

Aemond smirked. “Come and take your place, wife.”

The seat to his right was empty, saved for her as it always was, and his eye followed her throughout the entire journey it took for her to reach that chair.

“You look beautiful tonight, wife.”

His hand found hers beneath the table, as was their habit now. More often than not Aemond spoke softly – not shyly, but lowly, and in a way that had all listening carefully to his words. And when Aemond spoke, all did listen. Now, though, he spoke softer than ever; so much so that Jeyne had to bodily lean towards him as though he whispered secrets. She suspected that was his intention.

“I thought the occasion a special one.”  

The pad of his forefinger traced the dip of her palm. “Ah, but you look beautiful every other night, too. Are you suggesting there have been special occasions every day since we first met, but I knew not?”

Those gathered could not be blamed if they thought he whispered utter filth to her for how furiously she blushed.

“Aemond,” she breathed a laugh. “I’m tempted to think you’re mocking me.”

“Never,” he said solemnly, bringing her hand up from beneath the table in order to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Now what is my wife giving her husband for his name day?”

“Hm,” she made a show of thinking it over. “A dance?”

It was a daring thing to ask. While she suspected he revelled in the crowds he often drew in the training yard, he was not the sort for grandstanding. Not the way the men who competed in the tourneys were. And dancing, she realised quickly, must have fallen into the same category as tourneys in his mind. They’d danced at their wedding, yes, but that was part of his duty on that eve, she supposed.

“A joke,” she lied quickly, before she found herself subjected to a refusal – however carefully she knew he would phrase it.

Aemond’s eye cast downwards, his head tilting as he appeared torn on whether to argue with her or not, but Jeyne was waving one of her personal guard forward, one of whom she’d tasked with carrying the gift.

“Now, I know you already have this volume,” she said quickly, squeezing his hand. “Primarily because there’s hardly a book in Westeros you haven’t read.”

He smirked proudly at that.

“But this is the original copy from the Citadel. It has the Maester’s original notes in it, which are supposed to contain almost as much knowledge as the book itself. Whoever copied it neglected to bother with them, likely to lighten their workload…which is why I don’t feel half so bad about my liberating it for you.”

This part she explained softly, less the whole court be privy to her less-than-stellar practises. Any worry she may have felt over Aemond’s opinion of her decision to grease palms that prided themselves on never being greased proved unfounded, however, for his delight grew and he smirked

“How did you achieve such a feat?” he asked.

The true story was as anticlimactic as it was tedious, featuring a cousin who was studying to join the Order of Maesters – one who owed her a favour, and who was dying for the approval of House Targaryen, no less. Thank the Seven for snobbish streaks.

But explaining all of that rather ruined the mystique, so instead she smiled, and she winked, and she turned her attention to her cup of wine. Beside her, Aemond gave a chuckle that suggested she played a dangerous game. Jeyne rather liked it; the chuckle and the game both.

The night went as expected from there. Not close enough in line to the throne to warrant an entire spectacle – and not fond of entire spectacles to begin with – gifts were brought forth here and there by members of other Houses, and Aemond did a great deal of nodding and murmuring in response. Other than that, there was dancing, drinking, eating, and all of the making merry that typically went into these things.

It was hours and hours before things began to show signs of drawing to a close. The King and Queen had long retired, as had Princess Helaena, while Aegon was set on gathering his nearest and dearest for a “continuation of the festivities” somewhere in the city. Something Aemond steadfastly refused to join.

Ordinarily, she and her husband would have already retired long ago, but given that this was all in his name, he was under an obligation to see it through…for the most part. Still, as the night pressed on, Jeyne found herself yearning for their chambers. They were his chambers, really, but that mattered little for all she was in them. The ones she’d been given upon moving here were a glorified dressing room, and she had no cause to complain in regards to that arrangement.

Still, she knew he took little enjoyment in the crowd that remained, and so she felt it necessary to hang around until he saw fit to take his leave. But a moment to breathe on the balcony could not hurt.

"We may leave soon – those still around are resolved to drink until the sun rises.”

Jeyne started at the sound of his voice, giving him a rueful look in response to his purposefully quiet approach. Aemond smirked, unbothered by her teasing ire, standing behind her so he might press his hands onto her hips.

“The bards are still playing,” she pointed out. “I wouldn’t think things were dying down overmuch.”

“The bards still play,” he said, “because I commanded it.”

“Oh?”

“Dance with me.”

“Aemond…”

“Jeyne.”

“I know you don’t like it.”

“Dancing with my wife? What brought you to that conclusion?”

“Dancing in general. I would not force your hand in the matter when it matters little. Especially not on your name day.”

“I did not dance with you in there, because then I would have found myself obliged to dance with all who asked. That brings me little joy, nor pleasure. But you, however…” he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her neck, his lips warm in contrast to the cool of the night. “You cannot expect to dress so finely, nor to dance so prettily with every moron gathered her tonight, without saving one for your husband.”

Jeyne leaned back into his touch.

“What will people think, if they catch us dancing out here?”

At that, he responded in Valyrian – the only words she could make out being hear and your chambers. It wasn’t as difficult to fill in the blanks now as it usually was when he slipped into that tongue.

“You know, one day I’ll have a better grasp at the language and I’ll understand everything you say to me in it,” she teased.

“Then you will blush very prettily, very often,” he murmured, unabashed. “Now come, wife. Dance with me.”

Jeyne smile, and then she laughed, before finally allowing him to guide her. As was swiftly becoming her habit.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[rosemultitargaryen]

Mirror

Warnings: bondage, breeding kink, oral dem receiving, mirror sex.

Pairing: Husband!Dom!Aemond x Wife!Sub!reader. (Fem)

Summary: "watch me as i worship your body with every inch of mine." Aemond decided to show you just how much he appreciates you.

Word count: 101

The people crowded to see the newly weds at the ball. Aemond by your side, you ascend down the stairs with a worried expression. Your fingers grasped the fabric of his clothes in need of some relief from this newfound anxiety.

"Do you truly think i will let harm come your way?" Aemond's voice calms you slowly, his tone is authoritative yet gentle while his facial expressions are relaxed and fond.

"I do not...everyone is just...never mind." Your words struggle against your quivering lips.

Aemond comes to a halt, turning to stand before you with a gentle hand on your left arm. His other hand grasp your chin, lifting your gaze to his eye. The moment is brief before you notice that everyone is awaiting your arrival from the halls. You clear your throat, pushing past your newly made husband. Your hands grasp at your dress, lifting it to allow access for your legs to move more freely. Although you wish for them to take you elsewhere, you manage to make your way down the staircase by yourself.

The celebration ceremony proceeds, everyone coming to personally congratulate you. You begin to feel more self conscious, seeing these lovely young women with thin hourglass bodies. Yes, Aemond stressed to you that your body is the perfect make for him. However, your mind tells a very different tale.

"My love." His voice pulls you from your sickening thoughts, your hand on your stomach as you look up into his eye.

"Yes?" You ask innocently as if you weren't just thinking of ways to get rid of the weight.

"I can see your thoughts taking over you." Aemond pauses, taking a moment to move forward and grasp your face. "Need i give you a physical example of how much i worship your body?" Aemond rhetorically asks.

You swallow thickly. "No...Aemond leave me be." You dismiss his intentions, brushing past him.

A frown forms on his pale face, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting as he watches you walk toward the washroom. Aemond takes note and waits for you outside, leaning up against the door with his hands crossed over his chest. His hair falling perfectly over his shoulders, tied back into his signature half up half down hairstyle. You walk out of the washroom, your face reddened from the tears. You bump into your husband, his frame blocking you from moving as his hands take you waist firmly.

"Aemond..." you mumble and his head tilts.

Aemond guides you to your now shared chambers. His hands grasping your back as he gently pushes you within the walls of the room. You're taken aback by his forceful actions. His head gestures toward the bed, you follow.

If you had learnt anything from your husband, disobedience is not accepted. You sit on the edge of the bed, hands places on your lap as you wait for the next command.

Aemond trails behind you, kneeling, his hands possess something of a leather consistency. You daren't question his actions, feeling the cool leather trickle down your bare arms. He unclips your gown, watching as it deliciously reveals your figure. Aemond stands and removes a cloth, revealing a mirror in front of you both therefore forcing you to look at your self bare.

"Aemond please, i can't stand to look at myself...please." Although you meant to sound stern your words came to be mere whimpers, ashamed of your body.

The leather whip trails down your front as Aemond kneels back behind you. The action elicits a moan from you, your eyes fluttering to a close as he grazes the material over your nipples. Aemond smirks, moving to your front as he kneels before you. His face is level with your entrance, the feeling of his breath against you makes your squirm.

"Behave." Aemond demands, lifting your legs over his shoulders.

His lips graze your clit, your hands flying to his hair for more control. Aemond's tongue presses against your hole, you force your hips forward.

"So eager, perhaps if you want to act like a whore you should join a pleasure house." He smirks.

The obscurity of his words makes something stir in you. Aemond works magic on you, making your head fall back in ecstasy. Slurs and moans fall from your lips like sweet nectar to Aemond's ears. His tongue laps up all you have to offer. As you are about to reach your release he withdraws his head, kissing you with hunger that overpowers his senses.

His body over powers yours, pressing you against the mattress. Your back arches as Aemond presses his erect member against your folds. You give him a look of permission before he plunges in and your eyes screw shut.

"Aemond...I.." you moan and scratch your nails down his bare back.

His thrusts are slow yet hard, knocking you further up the mattress with every thrust. His hair dangles in front of his face and you lean up to kiss his lips, the feeling of warmth fills you as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

"Ao feel raqagon nykeā million qēlossās issa jorrāelagon." Aemond slurs and you whine, feeling your climax reaching.

He continues his forceful thrusts, kissing your collarbone to add to your pleasure. You kiss his chin, beads of sweat forming on you as your breathing quickens.

"Aemond!" Your legs shake violently as his thrusts grow sloppier.

The coil snaps and you milk his cock, panting and whining as he continues to abuse your entrance for his own pleasure. Your head falls back to the pillows as you feel him release within you, pumping you with his cum. Aemond comes to a halt, making sure ever last drop is bestowed in you.

"You will look so beautiful, round with our child." He purrs.

[dreamlandcreations]

The Bastard Princess

Aemond Targaryen x Daemon's daughter!Reader

• moodboards masterlist •

You were enemies since the moment he claimed Vhagar.

He stole the dragon and you had taken his eye. Both acts are unforgivable in your book.

Being your father's daughter, your temper did not let you rest the case after the king declared it done. While they were preparing to depart, you were fuming on your own, at the beach where the only mother you knew had been buried.

Your anger attracted something dark and sinister.

When the Cannibal had emerged from beyond the cliffs, you thought you were done for but it seemed he had other plans.

After years of dreaming of it, you finally claimed a dragon. And the first thing you did was attack the traitor and the thief. It was only thanks to your father and Caraxes intervening that the young prince could escape.

Even though your wild dragon was almost the size of Vhagar, Caraxes won the fight and got away unscathed as neither you nor the beast in tune with your emotions could either hurt your beloved father or his dragon.

Daemon always cherished you, his eldest, even though you did not have his last name. Your mother was a good friend of his and his Lady wife's, who was one of the women they had fun with, in their years of freely roaming the world. Daemon Targaryen never regretted having you, he was not ashamed of you and taught you to be proud of who you are. A dragon, free even of the name that burdened him with the shackles of his first marriage. And despite loving you unconditionally and as her own, Laena agreed that you would be better off without having their name to tie you down.

You owned the monicker of the 'Bastard Princess' just as proudly as the nickname your father gave you, 'Wild Fire'.

As you grew up, you learned to control your temper but meeting with the one-eyed prince turned you both back into petty children, fighting over a dragon you never really had a desire to own and an eye that you - deep, deep, deep down - truly regretted taking.

But the king, who was still more present than anyone in his family gave him credit for, saw beyond your anger, witnessing the regret every time you realised just how much your words cut into Aemond, deeper than your blade ever could. And Viserys smiled at the glimpses he saw his son gave you when he thought no one could see.

After the little time he had spent with his extended family, the king realized that after his death there would be no stopping their fighting. He hoped, of course, that his daughter could take the throne without an issue but he was also not as blind as they thought.

Looking down on the balcony, he saw you and Helaena sitting in the garden, while his son admired you from a distance.

Viserys smiled, a decision came to his heart rather than his weary mind and he ordered the Grand Maester to him, preparing a future where his family is untied by the two of you.

None of you knew of his last declare.

Only a day after the king's death, the throne taken by his eldest son, you received a message from the Grand Maester, who was residing outside the palace, in a somewhat neutral territory, as the guest of the Tyrells'.

Mere hours after your fight with Aemond and his dragon, and almost losing Luke, you prepare to make a journey, not knowing it would change your life forever.

• moodboards masterlist •

[frost-queen]

Forged in fires (Reader x Aemond Targaryen)

Requested by: anon; Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22​, @elllie-does-the-posts​, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​ @idkwhatmyusernameis​,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​

Torches lighted up the throne room. People lined up to await the arrival of King Viserys. You stood amongst them; hands neatly folded before you. Getting on the tips of your toes to see if anything would occur soon. Lately you all had to wait longer for King Viserys as he wasn’t one of the youngest anymore. Setting your heels back down, you felt a close presence from behind. – “Rytsas kēlītsos.” Hello little cat. You heard ruining your mood instantly. – “You know I don’t speak High Valyrian.” – you responded, keeping your focus to the front. – “I know.” – Aemond spoke appearing from over your shoulder to your side. – “That is what makes it all the more fun.” – he added coming into your view. A silly grin on his face. – “Sīr fragile se rāpa.” So fragile and soft. 

You rolled your eyes at his words, his hand hovering down your shoulder to your arm. You might not understand what he said, but one word came out clear. Aemond staring grinningly at you. – “Are you done?” – you questioned, agitated by his insult. You just knew he was insulting you in High Valyrian just to tease you for not understanding. Aemond pulled his shoulders up with a small pout. Not able to withstand his presence more, you let yourself disappear through the crowd. Moving to make sure he couldn’t find you so easily.

“So insufferable.” – you mumbled to yourself, making your way to the back, closer to the throne. You didn’t even want to look over your shoulder to see if he was in pursuit. You came to a halt as King Viserys got announced. He walked as best as he could to his throne. The people dropping down into a bow when he passed them. Looking to your left, you saw a group of people bow, giving you a clearer view of those beside them. Your gaze caught by the young prince. You gave him a childish mockery expression. Aemond chuckled batting his gaze down. King Viserys walked near as you dropped down in a curtsy. 

Aemond’s gaze lingering on you with something indescribable in his eyes. You rose, catching him quickly look away from you. Wondering what would go through his head. King Viserys let himself fall onto his throne with a heavy sigh. With one wave of his hand, separated the line merging into one blur of people. You staid in the background. Finding solitude near one of the pillars. In the crowd, you spotted Aemond’s pure white/blonde hair near his mother, the queen. Sighing loud, you rather wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere where Aemond couldn’t be around.

**

“Y/n!” – your father called you over. You waited in the entrance for the door to be shut behind you. Hands neatly folded in front of you, you approached your father. – “You called upon me father.” – you said leaning in to give him your cheek, placing it against his. Doing the same to his other cheek. He chuckled, holding your arms. – “Come, come.” – he said taking your hand. He led you further into the room. – “I would like you to meet a very promising lord.” – he continued making your stomach twist. 

Here he was again trying to out marry you to which ever lord would give you an even grander title. A man standing by the curtains. He slowly turned when you were pulled closer. Your expression contracted in pure disgust. The lord in question more then half your age. One would say he could be your father. – “Lady Y/n it is a pleasure.” – he spoke, bowing his head. Your gaze went down, seeing that the wine was not unfamiliar with him. 

His stomach bloated from heavily drinking. Your father nudged you hard since you were not being respectful. – “I do hope you do not intend to marry me off to a man who is old enough to be my father, father.” – you said boldly, not caring if it was an insult or inappropriate. There was absolutely no way you were binding yourself to such a man.

“Y/n!” – your father called out, grabbing you firmly by your shoulder. Giving it a hard squeeze as his eyes beamed with anger. – “You will be polite to Lord Lionelor of House Beesbury.” – he made clear giving you a scowl. You turned your attention to the lord in question, straightening your posture. – “I would rather let a dragon scorch me then marry him.” – you told him with a strong expression. The lord puffed his cheeks up. – “With a mouth like that, no lord would even consider marrying you.” – he responded. – “Good, be sure to spread the word!” – you pushed through to make your statement. 

“Y/n!” – your father grabbed you aggressively by the arm. He pulled you away from the lord to a more secluded area of the room. – “One more performance like that and I won’t be so respectful!” – he threatened. – “You are still my daughter, my flesh and blood so when I command you, you do as you are told!” – he said with a clenched expression. – “Command me?” – you answered half mockingly half sarcastically. – “I may be your blood, but no one commands me of whom to marry!” – you pulled your arm out of his grip. 

You gasped receiving a hard slap against your cheek. – “I do and you will do as I say!” – he called out. You slowly turned your head to him, eyes filled with hatred. He nodded firm, pleased with himself. You turned leaving the room, not caring one bit. Infuriated you stormed outside stealing a can of wine and a cup on your way.

The little courtyard where the large white tree with red blossoms and faces in it’s bark held refuge. You let yourself fall on the bench, filling your cup. Drinking it in one breath. It wasn’t enough as you filled the cup immediately after. Needing to drink your sorrow away of being a disappointment. To fight against every demand your father throws your way for a marriage proposal. You knew one day your luck would run out, forced to marry a man you would never love just to please your father. 

To keep strong connections to other strong houses. You raised your cup to the sky. Toasting to your own doom. – “Hear, hear.” – you said bringing your cup to your mouth. Taking a large sip. Exhaling loud, you let your shoulder slouch. Wallowing in self-pity. Something caught your eyes, appearing in your blind spot. It made you turn your head, immediately regretting you did. Aemond approached, hands behind his back, a silly smirk on his lips. 

You groaned irritated. – “I am not in the mood Aemond.” – you said staring down your cup, letting the wine swirl in your cup. – “So sad.” – he responded, mockery clear in his tone. You sighed bothered, getting up. Aemond widened his eye briefly at your sudden behavior. He sped up to reach you, taking you by the arm.

You pulled away as Aemond took a step back. He could tell something serious was going on with you. Something that would knock you out of rhythm so bad. – “If you came to gloat, now is your chance.” – you said gesturing dramatically with your hand. – “I can’t fall any lower.” – you waved your cup in the air, spilling a bit on the ground. Chuckling you brought the cup to your lips. Aemond observing closely. You drank a bit, humming loud with a held up finger, wanting to say something more. 

“Is there a word for disappointment in High Valyrian? Or something related you can pin on me.” – you chuckled in your cup, feeling a bit tipsy. You wanted to drink again when Aemond wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it down. His action was aggressive, it made some wine spill over the edge. – “Drinking does daor suit ao, dōna hāedar” – he said to you. You stared confused at him. Aemond held you by your elbow, plucking the cup from your hand. – “Drinking does not suit you.” – he repeated in a common tongue for you to understand. He set the cup aside, not wanting you to drink any more. 

Aemond chuckled seeing you trying to mumble his words in High Valyrian for yourself. – “Wait what do the last words mean?” – you asked him, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Aemond’s gaze widened. – “Done… Dona…something else.” – you tried to repeat it, being so off from the original word. – “Nothing.” – Aemond responded. Staring down he knew exactly what they said. Sweet girl. Although he would never admit it.

You took a deep breath, fumbling a bit with the cords on the front of your dress’s chest plate. Aemond noticed it, making his way over. He cupped your hands from below, making you stop fumbling. – “What has upset you, Y/n.” – he asked bringing your hands down to your waist. You gazed at him, wondering if you should even tell him. You considered him after all an enemy. You turned your posture away from him, drifting off towards the tree. Aemond watching you. – “Is it your father?” – he asked. 

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back to catch the sunlight on your face. Aemond swallowed, letting his gaze go down, knowing enough. He slowly approached you, coming to stand beside you.  Admiring your features in the sunlight. – “Trouble not yourself with my worries, Aemond.” – you spoke, lowering your head. – “It is unlike you.” – you faced him with a smile. Aemond leaned in closer, smirking cunningly. – “Dovodedha hāedar.” Silly girl. He responded warming up your smile.

**

“Y/n!” – Jacaerys called out coming over with two cups in his hands. – “Your royal highness.” – you replied with a curtsy. Jacaerys held one cup out to you. – “I thank you, your royal highness.” – you said accepting the cup. – “Please Y/n, Jace… my parents aren’t around for formalities.” – he answered, holding one hand briefly up. You bowed your head as a response. Both of you took a sip, looking away from each other. – “Mother is occupying herself with finding me a good wife.” – he told you. 

You hummed softly, listening with much interest. – “She has thrown countless names my way, but if I could suggest one it would be yours.” – he said as you nearly choked on your drink. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – he asked, hand resting on your back. – “I am quite alright Jace.” – you responded, quickly wiping your mouth dry. Your gaze met accidently with Aemond’s from across the room. Near the fires he stood, observing you closely. 

Standing stiffly, trying to keep his expression as clean as possible. Yet you noticed how much effort he had to give it. – “Do you not think our houses would form a great allegiance?” – Jacaerys said drawing your attention away from Aemond. – “I suppose.” – you answered polite. – “I would be very gentle with you.” – he added.

Jacaerys took your hand without asking for it. Admiring your palm. – “I’ve read somewhere that lovers can be found by the way the lines on their palm flow.” – he informed you. He let his finger trace your palm, following one of your lines. His touch tickled a bit, making you curl your fingers. – “Where did you read that?” – you asked chuckling. – “A very old book.” – he replied, moving his hand over your fingers, bringing them down to your palm. 

“Jacaerys Velaryon, are you telling me a lie?” – you said teasingly with a smile on your lips. – “Would it be such a bad lie?” – he asked resting his hand on yours. Aemond couldn’t stand it anymore. Gritting his teeth, staring with disgust and hatred at his nephew. His hand on yours, adding up with your smile was the drop. He stormed over not caring if some heads turned curiously his way. 

You gasped getting grabbed rather aggressively by Aemond. He pulled you away from his nephew, leading you away. He shoved you in a corner away from the watching eyes. – “Aemond!” – you slapped him against his shoulder for handling you so aggressively. He grunted, pushing you against the wall. You swayed your arms to make him release his grip on you.

It was no use as Aemond kept you in place. – “What is the meaning of this!” – you called out frustrated that your attempts were of no use. – “Unhand me right this instant!” – you ordered, setting your foot firmly down to mark your point. – “Ao mazverdagon nyke ojughagon ñuha mind!” You make me lose my mind. Aemond shouted at you. You gasped loud at the intensity of his words. Even though you didn’t understand, the tone in his voice spoke loud enough. 

Aemond stared intensely at you that it caught your breath. Seeing the slightly frightened reaction in your eyes, made him rethink his approach. Taking a deep breath he calmed himself. Loosening his tight grip on you, yet not letting you go. His gaze went down to your lips briefly before lingering at your once more. – “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, I am sorry if I…” – you started, cut off by Aemond covering up your mouth with his hand. You stared dumbfound back at him. Aemond swallowed nervously, finding it hard to find the right words to let you know. Let you know how he really felt about you. 

How jealous he was seeing his nephew flirt with you so openly. He couldn’t stand it that Jacaerys was near you. Not when you were supposed to be his opponent. Aemond took a deep breath, feeling the need to confess to you before it would be too late. Before your father would marry you off to someone else or before Rhaenyra would approve you as Jacaerys’s wife.

“Iksā skoros jaelan.” You are what I want. He said removing his hand from over your mouth. – “Dōna hāedar.” Sweet girl. He added letting his finger brush against your cheek. You breathed in shivers, staring lost in his gaze. – “I love you.” – he blurted out so lost in your beauty it slipped from his lips. Your eyes widened realizing what he had said. Aemond let go of you, shocked by his own revelation that he so openly confessed. 

That should have not come out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he felt foolish for confessing like this to someone he once considered an enemy. He backed away wanting to escape the formed situation. It took you a moment to let his words sink in. Pushing yourself off the wall, you took his wrist as he was about to turn away. Tugging on his wrist, you spun him back to you. 

Getting on the tips of your toes to reach his lips. Kissing him. Not feeling him kiss you back, made you set your heels down. Before you could lower your head, cupped Aemond your cheeks, leaning down a bit to kiss you once more. The boundaries of enemies slowly melting down to reveal the inner core where love held it’s place.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[tarantinolovesmyfeet]

Ameond looked over the petite girl with a firey lust he never felt before. He has laid before, but this time without his brother's input, without having to pay, and within some of his age. He watched the girl's fingers tremble, her eyes focused on him, and her dainty fingers reached for him as he watched her watch him.

"I-...I should not sin." She whispered over to him as her hand now grazed his long fingers. "It's not a sin if we care for each other." He whispered back to her, watching her bite at her lower lip, even more enticing than she realized.

One of his hands clasped a hold over the fingers that lightly touched his, and the other softly traced up her arm, allowing himself to feel the goosebumps rise on her skin. He smiled softly as she looked up with big, innocent eyes.

He'd seen those eyes watch him plenty of times as he trained or when he spoke about dragon history, as his fingers continuously lightly grazed her wrist, her jawline, the nape of her neck, and her lower lip. He craved to touch her, so he did freely when they were alone, as they are now. Unchaperoned, alone. She was barely an adult, and she was so innocent. Alicnet almost groomed her to be loved and cherished by the seven, and Ameond always touched her freely, even sometimes around his mother. She was his, and Alicent will know of it.

His hands were large and warm against her skin as he slowly tugged at the string of her nightdress. "Aemond I-" She trembled now, and her other hand touched his chest, bending almost to grasp at him. "Tell me what you want." "I-" Her eyes were glossy now as she looked at him, filled with hunger and lust. "Please....kiss me." Innocent again, but he will take what she gives. He moved in swiftly, his lips on hers, and she let out a soft noise, making the warmth in his lower stomach move down to his groin; he wanted more; he wanted her.

She moved uncertainly against his lips, and he moved like he was dying of thirst. His hand let go a ghost of touch as she grazed her breast, feeling them freely through the thin fabric. She gasped loudly, and his tongue slithered in, consuming all of her. Her soft moans egged him on, becoming so turned on, blinded by lust. Her soft noises were driving him crazy, and he needed to be deep inside of her, not any other night but tonight. He couldn't help himself. The one hand that was still on her nightdressed pulled perfectly, and the dress slipped off her body, showing off her curves to him. He was blinded by lust, he had to see, her in her glory, her naked and free and for him. He pulled away from her lips to look at her as she blushed, trying to cover herself, and he let out a soft no and pushed her hands away from her body. She was beautiful, a goddess. Her skin was so soft-looking that it was enough for him to eat. "Fuck, you're beautiful." his violet eyes looked up at her body, seeing her toffee-colored nipples perked hard for him. "I need you." He said, voice hoarsed with need.

"Ameond....I-" he stopped, kissing her now, even more feverish than before, swallowing her words up. His one hand cupped her breast, having her gasp, as his other hand wanted to be in her, to feel her warmth, to feel her wetness, to have him claim her, to touch where no one else has before. He needs it, he craves it, and his fingers slipped past her belly button below her waist and in between her soaked lips. She gasped louder, and Aemond was more profound in her mouth than before. He was a man gone mad. He needed to feel more, have her gasp even more, and have her cry out for him. It was his and his alone.

[genz420]

The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 83: Queer Customs.

Master List

Pervious Part - Next Part

138 - Harrenhal  

“I must thank you for inviting me, Your Grace,”

“Visenya,” Rob calls out to Visenya, gaining her attention from the food she is staring at on her plate. 

Visenya looks away from her food; she had been staring at it, hoping that the meat would magically cut itself and that the bread would rip itself apart.  Visenya didn’t want to ask Aemond or Ben to do it for her, not feeling comfortable enough in front of Rob’s wife, Alla.  

As soon as she looks away from her plate, Aemond pushes his plate to the side and takes her, doing what she wants without her having to ask.  Aemond knows Visenya well enough that she would not bruise her pride and would sooner go hungry than ask for help.  

“What?” Visenya asks as she looks between Rob and his wife.  

Alla is a beautiful woman, maybe a year older than Rob himself, but she doesn’t look like she is.  Unlike the four other people sitting at the table, it is clear that she has had a life away from violence and war and that she had also grown up where the sun shines and people spend time outdoors.  

The new lady of Riverrun is beautiful but not Visenya type and far from either Aemond or Bens.  

“Alla was speaking to you,” Rob answers Visenya as he notices that Ben puts more vegetables onto the plate in front of Aemond, who approves of the knight's actions.  

“Oh,” Visenya says before she looks at the frightened lady, offering her a kind smile.    “Sorry, I am not very used to people addressing me by those titles,”

“Should get used to it,” Ben tells Visenya as he moves across the table to pour more mead into Visenya's cup, even past the look both her and Rob give him.   “All those highborn fuckers will be calling by them soon,”

“Ben,” Rob warns, he doesn’t mind that kind of language when it is just them, but he doesn’t think his lady wife would appreciate such language.  

Alla ignores her husband's tone. Instead, she watches as Aemond moves Visenya's plate back in front of her, and instead of his hands going back to eat his food, Aemond's hand goes behind Visenya’s neck; she watches as a genuine smile graces Visenya's face as she looks at Aemond.  

Rob and Ben have a little stare-off with one another, waiting for the other to back down, and Ben gets Rob to break eye contact as he swiftly kicks the lord's shin.  Rob jumps a little in his seat before looking at Alla, who is watching Visenya and Aemond, with a smile on her face; it is obvious to anyone who even glances at the two that they are in love.   

“Sorry,” Ben apologises to Alla, pulling her attention away from the Targaryens.  “Forgive my language, my lady.  My parents died before they could teach me any manners, and both of my siblings have far worse mouths than me,”

Visenya sniffles her laugh as she watches the colour drain from Alla's face at Ben's words, and Rob just sighs as he looks down.  

“You do not need to call me by my titles.  Visenya is fine,” Visenya tells Alla, gaining her attention.  She wants the lady to feel welcomed and knows it will take some time for the lady to get used to the trio dynamic, just like it had taken Aemond some time to get used to it.  

“Are you sure?” Alla asks, not wanting to offend Visenya and there forth Aemond as well.  

Like many others, the prince scares Alla, always quiet and watching.  Alla has heard the stories about what is under the eyepatch, how he has no eye and only takes it off in a battle to scare and shock his enemies.  Aemond has only spoken to Alla a handful of times, often when he has come to relieve her of watching his children, but each time Alla is quick to leave the room, not to anger the man.  The one time she had stayed in the room longer than usual, Aemond seemed to be a different person with his children, and now Alla can see that he is the same as Visenya.  

“Indeed, you married Rob, so you are family,” Visenya answers Alla as she picks some of the bread off her plate, and Aemond watches her closely.  

“I must ask how my father is?” Alla asks Visenya.  She has been worried about her father and brother since the news of Visenya travelling to the Reach, worried they might have gotten hurt because of the fighting.  

Visenya swallows the lump in her throat at the mention of the Reach.  Even if Daeron had stabbed her, she can’t imagine how the prince must be dealing with losing his dragon.  If either Morghon or Cannibal had been hurt, much less killed, then she wouldn’t know what to do.  Aemond shifts in his chair, he loves his brother, but when he gets his hands on him for hurting Visenya, he will no longer be the crippled brother.  

“Good, from what I can remember.  Highgarden is a truly beautiful place, and the Reach only matches that beauty,” Visenya answers, biting back the memory of Daeron’s betrayal.   “Perhaps after this, all is over. Then I might give you a ride there,”

Rob looks at Visenya, he wants so badly for Alla and his friends to get along, but he knows that they can be overwhelming and don’t usually follow traditions or what is proper.  Visenya and Aemond had been good so far, keeping their hands to each other for the most part, but as Aemonds hand moves away from the back of Visenyas neck and disappears under the table, Rob can’t help but worry.   

“On dragon's back?” Alla asks, and Visenya nods; she knows that riding a dragon is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and not many people would turn it down.  

“Morghon is gentle and looks far scarier than he is,”  Visenya assures Alla before looking at Rob.   “Your husband has flown on him multiply times,”

“You never told me that,” Alla tells Rob and the lord looks at his wife, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.  Alla had already been worried about how close Rob and Visenya are, and the fact that he didn’t tell her about going on a dragon ride with Visenya might not have been the best choice.  

“Nyke pendagon issa isse,” Aemond whispers to Visenya, his lips brushing, and Visenya leans back in her chair as she looks at Aemond.  

I think he is in trouble.

Visenya bites back her smile as she feels Aemonds fingers tap against the skin of her thigh, she knows that if anyone were to see them, they would be appealed by the action, but that just thrilled her more.  

“Kesā sagon hae sȳrī lo aōha ondos daoriot keligon,” Visenya tells Aemond, her voice above a whisper, and she can see Ben choke on his drink before looking to the two Targaryens.  

You will be as well if your hand doesn't stop.

Aemond pulls his hand away from Visenya before finally picking at the food on his plate, he knows that it is risky to be so bold, but the way his heart was thumping did something to him.  

Alla looks away from Rob and towards Visenya and Aemond, making Visenya think that the lady was somehow fluent in Valyrian and had heard what they were saying.  

“Is that Valyrian?” Alla asks. She had never heard the language before, but it was almost intoxicating to listen to it.  

“Yes.  Forgive my husband and me; we tend to slip into it often,” Visenya answers; she doesn’t want to make Alla feel unwelcomed because she and Aemond are talking in a language she doesn’t know. 

“It is a beautiful language,” Alla compliments as she picks up her cup.  “Who taught you both?”

“I learnt from the maester,” Aemond answers first.  

“My father and grandsire,” Visenya tells Alla; part of her doesn’t know if Aemond would react at the mention of the late king or the fact that he would take the time to teach her but not him.  

“Are there any little pet names that you two have?” Alla asks, the language is interesting, and she hopes that one day she will be able to learn it.  She had heard Aemond calling the twins by a few different terms and them calling him “Kapa” and often asking for “muña.”  

“Ñuha dōnas and Perzītsos for Laenor and Daenys,” Visenya answers, enjoying answering questions.  “They mean ‘My sweets’ and ‘Little Flame’.  My father used to call me Ñuha dōnas,” 

Visenya smiles slightly at the memory, and the three men look around the table at one another.  It wasn’t often that Visenya would talk about Laenor, even with Aemond, so her sharing details with Alla surprises them.  

Alla looks at Aemond, noticing that he has been silent for the most part, but she wants to know the terms he calls the twins.  

“And you, Prince Aemond.  Have any little nicknames?” Alla asks, and the prince takes a moment before smiling at himself.  

“Ñuha dōna orvorta for her Grace,” Aemond answers, and Visenya looks at Aemond with wide eyes.  

“Aemond!” Visenya scolds Aemond as Ben booming laughter echoes in the room.  Aemond sits back in his chair with a small smile as he looks at Visenya, almost innocently asking what is wrong with his words.  

Rob watches Ben trying to stop himself from laughing, but the knight's face and neck are red as he covers his mouth as looks down at his plate.  Alla looks between the three people that can speak Valyrian, wanting to know what Aemond has said, and from the fact that Visenya's neck is flushed, she can tell that the name isn’t a sweet nickname. 

“What does it mean?” Alla asks as she watches Ben clear his face from the trees that are running down his face.  

“I wouldn’t want to sully your ears with my husband's words,” Visenya answers as she looks away from Aemond and back to Alla.  “And to think I used to teach you the language,”

“I thought the maesters taught him,” Alla tells Visenya.  

“Yes, but I used to try and teach it to him, do you remember?” Visenya asks Aemond, looking towards him, but Aemond just looks at Visenya, admiring her in the warm light of the candles around the room.  

“I do remember after I used to help you with your sword fighting,” Aemond recalls, his lips turning up at the memory.  

“By Blackwater Bay,” Visenya adds, not hiding her smile like Aemond.  

“So you both grew up together?” Alla asks, wanting to know more about their relationship. 

“For a few years, and then after my brother, Joffrey, was born, then I had to leave for Dragonstone,” Visenya answers; she doesn’t know how she feels talking about her childhood.  She misses it, issues similar times, and doesn’t want to think that she will never see her little brother again or her grandmother.  

Talking about her childhood would also lead to talking about her father, and as much as Visenya doesn’t want to admit it to herself, she doesn’t remember much of her father.  She can barely remember what he looks like and only remembers his specific memories.  

“And what did you prefer?” Alla asks as she picks at her food.  “King’s Landing or Dragonstone?”

“I felt at home where he was,” Visenya jokes as she looks at Aemond, and she can hear Ben make a gagging sound as she looks back at Alla.  “But I always felt at home on Driftmark,”

Alla looks between Visenya and Aemond, the prince judging Ben before returning to his food.  Alla can’t help but find it weird, it is clear how much they love each other, but to the rest of Westeros, the customs of the Valyrian houses are strange and not something they would do.  Alla can even stomach the thought of marrying her brother or uncle, but to the Targaryens, it means nothing.  

“You two don’t find it weird?” Alla asks, letting her curiosity get the better of her, and Rob watches Alla, wondering what she means.  

“What weird?” Visenya asks, not knowing if she is talking about the fact that she thinks Driftmark is her home or something else. 

“That you are, you know, what niece and uncle?” Alla asks, and both Visenya and Aemond shift uncomfortably at her words. 

“Oh,” Visenya says, and Rob and Ben look at each other.  Not once have they ever dared mention the relationship, Visenya had explained to them how it is different for them years back, and it took some time, but they understand it now.  

“Hmm,” Aemond says as he stares down Alla, making the lady shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze.  Rob likes his wife, and he can tell Aemond is very close to ending her life for her words. 

“Alla,” Rob warns Alla, making her look at her husband before returning to the two Targaryens.  

“Forgive me, I just-”

“Targaryens have queer customs, so no,” Visenya cuts Alla off; she knows that people not part of the Valyrian house do not understand, and the way Alla looks at her makes her feel ashamed.  

“Something I will have to get used to,” Alla says, and Visenya looks back at her.  

Visenya and Aemond had made a deal with Rob to unite their houses, and they couldn’t do that unless Rob had a child.  Now that he has a wife, they had been expecting news of Alla being with child for a while.  

“She is with child?” Visenya asks Rob, and Ben looks between Alla and Rob, looking at her still flat stomach with narrows eyes like if he tries hard enough, then he might be able to see the babe in her stomach.  

“We were planning on telling-”

Neither Ben nor Visenya allows Rob to finish his sentence before they are both out of their chairs and barreling towards the Lord with no regard for their safety.   Ben reaches Rob first, pulling the lord out of his chair before Visenya tackles them both; the force and unexpected weight of Visenya makes both Rob and Ben stumble on their feet, with Ben readying himself to take the full force of the group once they feet the ground.  

“Visenya!” Aemond shouts as he stands out of his chair, worried that Visenya might have hurt herself or one of her past injuries.  

Alla looks away from the prince, not used to the sheer amount of emotion and the reaction from the once quiet and reserved prince, and to her Lord husband and his friends, who are on the ground laughing on top of one another.  Aemond quickly moves around the table and towards the group, Ben now helping Visenya and Rob up off the ground.  

“You little fucker, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Visenya asks, all sense being proper in front of Alla gone.  

“We are at war?” Rob answers, but his voice is filled with uncertainty.  He had wanted to wait until Alla was in the clear about not having a miscarriage, but she had told Rob that they were going to say to his friends tonight.  

“Horseshit- Aemond, I am fine,” Visenya tells Aemond as she feels Aemond feel over her stomach and arms for any sense of her being hurt. “This is amazing news,”

“Trying naejot mazverdagon ñuha prūmia keligon.  Daor concern syt aōha, sepār hae skori īlin riñar,” Aemond whispers to Visenya as he holds onto her waist; he is not going to let her go again.   

Trying to make my heart stop—no concern for your own safety, just like when we were children. 

“I’m fine,” Viseenya assures Aemond as she gives him a quick kiss on his cheek.   “Kostilus ao should gūrogon hen ñuha grēza sepār naejot mazverdagon sure,”

You should take off my dress to make sure.

“Now I will throw up,” Ben mumbles to himself before he pulls Rob in for another hug.  

Visenya looks away from Aemond and toward Alla, who seems still startled by the commotion.  Visenya smiles at the lady as she tries to walk towards her, but Aemond doesn’t let go of her, keeping his hands snugly on Visenya's hips.  Visenya rolls her eyes at Aemonds actions but turns her body towards Alla as she leans back on Aemond.  

Visenya and Aemond let out a hum of contentment as she does so, and the grip on her only tightens.  Aemond feels he can’t let her go, or she might hurt herself again.   

“Congratulations, My Lady,” Visenya tells Alla as she offers her a kind smile.  She knows what it is like to be happy but overwhelmed at the news of a pregnancy.  

“Thank you,” Alla thanked Visenya as she stands up from her chair, and Rob rangles his way out of Ben's hug to go to her side.  “I look forward to our family becoming one,”

Aemond stiffens at her words, yes, both he and Visenya had agreed with Rob that they would unite their houses, but it is too soon for him to think of one of his children leaving to marry someone.  Visenya feels Aemond stiffens and leans more onto Aemond, her hands resting on his.  

“It already is,” Visenya assures Alla.  

– – 

“What's wrong?” Visenya asks Aemond as she looks around the table for some more mead; the night at long since died with Ben,  Rob and Alla going back to their rooms for the night, but Aemond hadn’t seen as eager to return to their shared bed chambers.  

The truth is that Aemond was enjoying watching Visenya putter around the warm room, often watching her chest rise and fall with each breath and the soft hum as she walked.  He knows that when they return to their room, she will want to go to bed, but Aemond wants to spend as much time with Visenya as he can.  

“Hmm,” Aemond answers, and Visenya stops walking, looking towards Aemond before stepping in front of him and giving him a questioning look.  

Aemond looks down at Visenya, watching as she studies his face for something that would tell her what is wrong.  Visenya is used to Aemond giving other people non-verbal responses but not her.  

“Don’t hmm me,” Visenya tells Aemond as she leans her chin on his chest, looking up at him.  Aemond can’t help the small smile as he rests her hand on Visenya's hips and pulls her closer.  “Tell me what’s troubling you,”

Aemond should have known better than to try and find something from Visenya, she has always been able to tell when something is wrong, and he never wants to keep things from her.  Aemond knows 

“What if they don’t have a girl?  What if they have a boy?” Aemond asks; he knows that Rob and Alla want their child to marry one of their children, but he doesn’t want Daenys to marry Rob's child, and it was already a lot to agree for the betrothment between Aenar and their child if it is a girl.  

“I’m sure Rob is planning on having more than this child,” Visenya tells Aemond, knowing that Rob wants a large family.  For his children to have siblings, unlike him.  

“What if they want Daenys?” Aemond asks; he doesn’t want to lose his little girl.  

“Daenys is already betrothed to Rickon,” Visenya answers; even if Cregan isn’t supporting them, she wouldn’t call off the betrothment until Cregan decided to get involved.  

“And what if Rob wants us to break that and have Daenys marry his son?” Aemond asks Visenya, the possibilities are flying through his mind, and he can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by them.  

“We won’t,” Visenya assures him; she wouldn’t do that to Cregan and the Starks.  Visenya smiles at Aemond as she bites her lip to stop smiling.  “Or maybe we will have another daughter,”

Aemond perks up at that.  He and Visenya had agreed that Aenar would probably be their last child, not wanting to risk Visenya's life again and that Visenya didn’t like being pregnant.   But the genuine smile on her face tells him she is being serious, not a single sign that she is joking or getting his hopes up.  

“I thought you only wanted three?” Aemond finally gathers that course and his voice to ask Visenya.  

“I did, but I must say that making children is fun.  Don’t you agree?” Visenya asks Aemond, but he says nothing in return, just watching for the slightest sign that Visenya is joking or getting his hopes up.  “Why so quiet? Do you not enjoy fucking me-”

Aemond cuts Visenya off with a kiss, passionate and full of love.  The kind of kiss that some people will never get to have in their life, one that screams ‘I love you’ without words and sends shivers through the receiver's body.  Aemond isn’t always great with his words, but he can show Visenya just how much he loves her.  

Visenya can’t help but giggle against Aemonds lips, the tight, bruising grip on her hips sends pleasure through Visenya, and she doesn’t care that her handmaidens will give her questioning looks when they help bathe her.  She would rather Aemond help than some women she doesn’t know.  

“You have a wicked tongue,” Aemond breathlessly tells Visenya as they nudge through noses together.  

Everything about Visenya is intoxicating.  From her wild nature to the fact that she never seems to listen to Aemond when it concerns her health and safety.  Her smell, her taste, how she feels around his cock.  Aemond loves anything about her, from the scars on her body to the marks she has gotten from her pregnancies.  

“I do,” Visenya agrees as she slightly moves her face away from Aemonds.  “Tell me how much you enjoy it,”

Aemond waits a moment, thinking about what he could say to shock his wife or stun her for a moment.  Aemond moves off from leaning on the table and moves so that Visenya is the one doing so.  Aemond gently pushes Visenya against the table, making her move up to sit on it, her dress riding up her legs and the silt exposing her legs.  

Aemond moves to stand between her legs, one hand going to the newly exposed skin.  His callused and scarred are rough against the smooth skin of her thigh; Aemond uses his other hand to take off his eye patch, knowing that Visenya hates when he wears it when they are intimate.  

Aemond could bend her over this table and fuck her like she was a common whore, and he knows that she would thank him after.  That she would be a good girl and take him perfectly.  Or he could worship her body and treat her like the Queen she is.  So many possibilities and opportunities to have his wife however he wants.  

“Hmm,” Aemond answers as he moves his hand up Visenya's body to push her further up the table.   “Want me to tell you how much I enjoy fucking you and how much pleasure that tongue brings me when I have your mouth stuffed full of my cock.  How I wished I could lock us in our chambers so that I could fuck you until it was obvious that you are a whore for my cock?”

Visenya had not been expecting Aemond to answer her, she had wanted to tease him and then maybe have him sit down so that she could ride him, but now she understands that she would most likely not do that.  That Aemond would be the one to take control tonight.  

Aemonds hands are quick to push Visenya's dress down her shoulders, and if they were in their chambers, then he would have just ripped the front of the dress, but he knows that they have to leave this room, and he doesn’t think that Visenya would want to walk around the halls without a dress.  

Aemond smirks as Visenya helps push the top of her dress down, giving Aemond accuse to her chest.  Aemond moves his head down and into the crook of Visenyas neck; the warmth of her skin is pleasant against his already warm face.  Visenya happily moves her hair over her shoulder and moves her head so Aemond has more room.  

If anyone were to walk into the room, they would see Aemond with his head buried in Visenyas neck while his fingers play with her nipple and group her breast.  Visenya's head back as she pulls Aemond closer to her body.  

“Qogralbar,” Visenya whimpers to herself, but that doesn’t satisfy Aemond.  

Fuck.

Aemond pulls his lips away from Visenya, admiring the already red marks on her red that match the previous marks he had inflicted on her neck the day prior.  What makes Aemond's breeches tighter is that Visenya never seems to cover them up, not with her clothes or hair.  That she wears them with pride, and when those lords look at her, they know that he is the one that just to fuck her and make her feel pleasure, not them.  

Visenya lets out a noise of displeasure as Aemond removes his hands from her breast and takes a step away.  Tits out and a pout on her lips, his eyes flicker between the scar on her lip that matches his and her chest.   

“Fuck what?” Aemond asks, teasing Visenya.    “Want me to fuck your mouth or your cunt? Or do you want me to fuck you with my tongue until you are shaking and begging for my cock,”

“Now, who is the one with the wicked tongue?” Visenya asks as she tries to grip Aemond's jacket to pull him back to her.  

Visenya pulls Aemond down to her level and captures his lips with hers, a kiss full of need and Aemond gently pushes Visenya to lie against the somewhat empty table.  His hands move to his hands to her hips. She is just resting on the table, and Visenya wraps her legs around his waist, pulling Aemond closer to where she needs him.  

Aemond lets go of Visenya's hips and grabs onto her wrists, moving to pin them beside her head but careful enough not to hurt her.  Aemond pulls away from the kiss, but Visenya tries to kiss him again.  

“Ao gīmigon Avy jorrāelan, paktot?” Aemond asks, and Visenya laughs slightly as she rests her head on the table.  

You know I love you, right?

“Nyke gīmigon,” Visenya answers as she kisses Aemond again, smiling against his lips. “Avy jorrāelan tolī,”

I know.  I love you too.  

Taglist: If you wish to be added to taglist please comment so!

@tempt-ress @kassies-take

[thewitchthattellstales]

She knew. She was ready, but nothing could ever prepare a woman for it. For the violation she has to agree upon or else she will be stigmatized with rumors that were nothing close to the truth. 

the legend of the fire flower and the one eyed prince

[hederasgarden]

Bloodlust

Summary: After battle, Aemond visits your tent. 

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lady Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Rough sex, fingering, biting, knife play and PIV sex. Basically smut with feels.

A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216, @shootingthroughthemoon, @handoverthekawaii and @shadycloudphilosopher for their help with this!

Likes are lovely but comments and reblogs make my day!

Masterlist

The ground shakes and the distant, angry roar of a dragon deafens the camp. Even from within your tent, you recognize Vhagar’s cry.

Your husband has returned.

There is no telling his mood, it varies wildly these days as the fighting intensifies. Some days he has little time for you, pouring over maps and plans with the men he commands until the early morning hours only to leave again soon after. Other days he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the comfort of your body, working hard to make your belly swell with a child again. What he wants from you today remains to be seen but it’s best to be prepared.

You stand, drawing the attention of the small gathering of women and servants in your tent.

“Thank you all for joining me this afternoon. I think it’s time for me to retire for the day,” you announce.

They bid you goodbye quickly and you watch them slowly file outside. It’s best for everyone if they’re not present when Aemond arrives. Your husband cared little for propriety when his blood lust was high from battle. His reputation and missing eye frightened many of the ladies; you couldn’t imagine their scandalized expressions if they saw him how you did in those unrestrained moments. He had scared you once too but that was when you were young and naive. Your head was filled with rumors about his awful deeds and garish appearance.

Now you know better. There was no doubt he could be cruel and violent. You’d seen first hand how easily he crushed his enemies and those that would harm the ones he loved, though he was never unkind to you. Even in the beginning when you were nothing to one another he protected you fiercely simply because you were his. He was gentle then too, his eye always seeking yours to determine your reaction to each touch and kiss he placed on your body and for that alone you would have cherished him but over the years you'd grown to love him too.

“Princess….” You turn, surprised to find one of the newer servants watching you with an unexpectedly concerned expression. “Would you like me to remain?”

“I can handle the Prince,” you assure her with a smile. “Go. Please…”

“As you wish,” she says, dipping her head and disappearing through the flaps of the tent.

When your betrothal to Prince Aemond was announced, this was hardly how you imagined passing your days. You expected something more sedate and safe within the Red Keep but your husband liked you close. It kept him calm and focused, reminding him of what he fought for. You learned to love the freedom it gave you outside his mother’s watchful eye and the King’s lecherous one.

Your only warning before Aemond stalks through the tent flaps is a hushed greeting of, Your Highness, from the guards stationed at the entrance of your tent. He ignores them, his eye focused solely on you as he sheds pieces of his outer armor with each step. As he continues his steady approach, his sword and outer doublet fall to the floor. The last thing to be removed is his eye patch and your gaze is automatically drawn to the brilliant sapphire jewel nestled there. It frightened many but you found him handsome like this.

“My Prince,” you greet. “How was the battle? Did you-” whatever words you would say to him are cut off by his mouth on yours.

He kisses you roughly, grabbing your hip and neck possessively. Together you stumble towards the bed in the corner of the room, his hands groping your body. When your legs tangle in your skirts Aemond grasps the back of your thighs, practically throwing you on the bed in a fit of impatience.You hardly have time to recover before he’s on top of you, slender fingers ripping at the collar of your dress to bare your shoulders to him. His teeth find your neck and you groan, hips rising to press against his. He sucks at the impression he’s left in your skin as he fumbles with your dress, seeking the warmest part of your body.

It doesn’t take long for him to grow impatient with your clothing and pull back. A grunt is your only warning before a dagger appears. Another woman might cower in fear at the sight but you only felt a peculiar rush of desire you had long since stopped trying to understand. Aemond was skilled with all manner of weapons and you learned about his penchant for small blades after the wedding. It was a favored bedmate for the both of you by now. You loved to watch him wield it. There was something beautiful about the way he handled it, the dagger moving between his fingers like water over stone.

In a flash your dress is split down the middle. Aemond wrenches it open with two hands, baring your upper body to his hungry gaze. The cold air washes over your heated skin and you shiver. He smirks and drags the flat of the blade over one breast and then the other until your nipples harden into peaks. He follows the cool blade with his warm tongue and you moan, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I should keep you naked all the time,” he whispers.“I could command it and you would listen, my obedient little wife.”

He doesn’t wait for your response before shifting down your body, flipping the knife easily in his hand to make quick work of the lower half of your dress. When he is done it hangs in tatters off your body along with your small clothes. He looms over you, something in his gaze both thrilling and terrifying. In moments like this, it’s not hard to believe the tales about the madness that lives within each Targaryen. Aemond looks like he could devour you whole.

“I’ve been dreaming of this warmth,” he admits, long fingers stroking the thick patch of curls at the apex of your thighs. He continues speaking, his voice smooth and hypnotic. “Of how tight and hot you’d feel around me.”

You’re wet enough that when he seeks out your bundle of nerves his fingers slip easily over the sensitive flesh, teasing your entrance only to pull away a second later. You stare up at him, breath ragged as you wait to see what he will do. He smirks, withdrawing his hand and laying his body over yours. The weight of him presses you into the bed, spiking the molten heat that builds in your stomach

“I’d kill for you, for this,” he whispers, lips sliding over yours to cut off the gasp you make when he forces a hand between your bodies and curls two fingers possessively inside you.

You tear your lips away from his. “Aemond, please.”

“Beg for me sweetling,” he encourages, stroking you until you’re dizzy and hot. He builds you up effortlessly, teeth scraping over your neck while his fingers work your desperate cunt. You’re close to the edge of pleasure and you beg Aemond mindlessly for it, tossing your head side to side.

“That’s it, come for me,” he encourages, guiding you through the rapture you feel, not letting up even when the tears come. By the time he’s done with you, you’re limp and trembling, but you know from the look in his eye that he’s nowhere close to being done. Aemond withdraws his fingers, sucking them clean while he watches you. His expression is dark and full of desire.

“Turn over, little wife,” he commands.

It’s difficult in your current state but he helps by pulling the ruined dress from your body and guiding you to lie on your stomach. You watch him over your shoulder while he undoes the lacing of his breaches, a slight shake in his hand is the only sign he’s not as in control as he seems. You turn away and press your cheek into the cool linens, allowing him to position you the way he likes.

Calloused hands spread your legs wide and you jolt at the feel of his tongue sweeping through your folds. He hmms in response, warm air ghosting over your sensitive skin before drawing away. The bed dips and he settles one hand beside your head while the other grabs the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he pushes inside the wet heat of you. Your fingers curl into the sheets and both of you groan when he bottoms out.

Aemond’s moving before you have a chance to adjust, his knees pushing your thighs even further apart to allow him deeper. The rough fabric of his pants drags against your tender skin and his grip on your neck tightens. The knowledge that he’s still fully clothed while you are laid out naked under him heightens your pleasure. With a man like Aemond you’re always vulnerable but he never makes you feel smaller or less then, only desired.

“Husband,” you gasp, mouth parting in a soundless cry.

“Wife,” he answers with a growl, snapping his hips harshly.

The world narrows to the ache between your thighs and how he fills you over and over again. Even though you just came you can already feel something building in your stomach again. There’s nothing you can do to hurry it along when your husband is like this. He is a force of nature, one you can only submit to. Aemond releases your neck and falls to his elbows, chest pressing against your slick back. The room fills with the sound of his flesh slapping against yours. His breath is hot across your cheek. Half-whispered words in old Valyrian pass his lips but your mind goes fuzzy as your orgasm crests and washes over in a rush. Aemond’s movements grow more desperate as you clench around him, your body trying to draw him in further.

“You’re mine, only mine” he growls. "Say it,” he pants, spilling inside your body and sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

Finally, his hips slow and you push yours back, wanting more of him. Aemond grunts and holds you still with a harsh grip on your waist. You stay like that, tangled together for several long moments before he pulls back, brushing a soft kiss to your shoulder. The tender action is so unexpected in his current state that your heart beats faster in response.

“I belong to you,” you whisper, turning your head to meet his lips for a messy, possessive kiss that steals your breath. He plunders your mouth and thrusts into you once more. It's both too much and not enough. You squirm beneath him until he finally releases you.

“I will have to leave again this evening,” he says, stroking your sides. “The usurper bitch does not rest.”

“Then neither will you,” you reply. You hate when he leaves but you know until this war is over, he’ll never fully be yours.

“There is still some time until I need to leave. Enough for me to have you again and again.” You clench around him in response and he laughs. “To remind me what I’m fighting to come home to.”

“Always,” you agree.

♡

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[dreamcatcher2113]

The Dragon Dance

Summary: What if Rhaenyra had another child? What if Rhaenyra had a daughter with white hair and purple eyes? What if she was betrothed to Aemond as an alliance with Greens? 

You are the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, unlike your brothers you have white hair and purple eyes. You are the twin sister of Jacaerys. You were close with Aemond when you were kids, you two attached to the hip. Ten years later after your family left to Dragonstone, your family reunites with the Greens. You see a familiar face, Aemond Targaryen. Even though it's been years since you last saw him, let's just say you are not the same little girl you were once before. 

Warnings: The reader and Jacaerys are aged up, they would be eighteen. Uncle/niece insect. 18+ smut(eventually). Language. Mentions of assault (mainly from Aegon). Violence. And possible other warnings that I can’t think of. There is a happy ending.

This fic does not follow the story or the show, this more a what-if scenario. There will be some similarities

Sword fighting between you and Ameond

Masterlist

_____________________________________

The Dragon Dance Part 01:

It's been ten years since the last time you’ve seen your uncles and aunt, you have mixed feelings about the reunion. The last time you saw your uncle Aemond, it was not a pleasant goodbye. You have no idea what happened between your brothers and your uncle. All you knew was that your younger brother Lucerys took Aemond’s eye, defending your cousins Baela and Rhaena. After that night your family fled to Dragonstone, where you had your education and trained with your brothers. 

Ever since you were a young girl you would mimic Jacaerys moves when he would wield his sword. Daemon saw this and noticed you were quite talented with a sword. So he started to train you as well. After years of training you became a better swordsman than any other knight, you have become the teacher instead. Rhaenyra became really proud of the women you have become. Your brothers always said that you act like your mother sometimes, which you take as a compliment. You look up to your mother, you want to become like her. You want to have the same freedom as her. Ride on dragonback and soar through the sky, being free not worrying about the feud between the Blacks and the Greens. 

It breaks your heart that your family is split into two, even though your mother and father explained to you multiple times why things are the way they are. You understand logically but emotionally you felt it was stuipid. You always wished that there was some way to mend the strain between two families. Even though it seems hopeless, you didn’t want to give up hope, at least just not yet. 

As soon as you and your family landed on King’s Landing, you got off your dragon Saphira. You pet her goodbye and start heading towards the castle. Not to your surprise no one greeted you and your family at your family's arrival. You heard the whispers, you heard the gossip about your brothers, and sometimes about you since you and Jace are twins. The only reason why there is less gossip about you, is because you were blessed with white hair and purple eyes. However there are still rumors about you since you don’t resemble your brothers. There were rumors that you are not really Rhaenyra’s daughter. Or they dye your hair to make you like a Targaryen. Or your favorite rumor is you’re the secret love child of Rhaenyra and Daemon. 

You and your brothers walked to the training grounds, talking about old memories and noticing the stares you three were getting. You rolled your eyes at the people who are not so secretly gossiping about you and your brothers. You were about to say something but Jace gave you a look and shook his head no. Telling you it’s not worth it, you sigh knowing he is right but it still irks you. 

You three hear the commotion, and see familiar white hair. You, Jace, and Luce walk into the circle of people surrounding two people fighting each other. Your purple eyes widen knowing who is winning. It's no other than your uncle Aemond, not to your surprise he won the fight. He turns to your brothers with a smirk “Nephew’s, have you come to train?” Aemond asked, still holding his sword against Ser Criston Cole's neck; not noticing you standing next to Jace. Both Jace and Luce are speechless, not knowing what to say.

“Hello uncle, I am actually here to come to train.” You said, saving your brothers from public humiliation. You take your cloak off and hand it to Jace. The dress you have on is a black dress, the torso mimicking a dragon scales as armor, long sleeves hugging your arms. “I’m sorry my lady, this isn’t a place for you. A lady like yourself shouldn’t hold a sword.” Ser Criston is trying to stop you from grabbing a sword. You roll your eyes at the comment, as your brother’s chuckle a little at Ser Criston’s response. Knowing you can wipe the floor with all of these men, including your uncle. 

“Now Ser Criston, let's not deny my niece this opportunity, give the lady a sword.” Aemond commanded Ser Criston with a smirk on his face, somewhat underestimating you but also knowing you are not like other ladies. It's one of the many reasons why he fell for you.

You usually love to twirl and play with your sword before you sword fight, however this is a different situation. You want to catch your uncle by surprise, you want him to underestimate you. You want every man here to think you are some defenseless girl. You want to put on a show. You pretend to struggle holding a sword, fooling almost everyone except some people. Your brothers holding their laughter knowing exactly what you are doing. They know what you are capable of, and what you can do with a weapon. Your uncle Aemond however has a hunch that you are acting. It might have been ten years since the last time he saw you, but he remembers every single thing about you. He knows when you are lying.

For his own amusement he will play along with the game you are playing. He lifts his sword and twirls it “shall we begin young niece?” he asks sweetily but yet viciously as well.

You lift your sword up, ��let’s uncle.” You respond with a sweet smile, but the smile has a bite to it.

Aemond charges towards you with the sword, and you immediately dodge the attack. He goes after you again, once again you dodge his attack. Finally you start using your sword as he continues to attack you. You swing your sword against his, and twirling the sword and him, where his back is facing you and you sword against his neck. “You should learn to fight with your feet uncle, not just your arms.” You whisper in his ear, feeling your hot breath against his skin. Aemond couldn’t help but feel chills down his spine. 

He shouts in frustration, turns to you and swings his sword towards you. You block the attack with your sword. You two start to sword fight for real, well to be honest you were going easy on him. Jace and Luce know that this fight would be over within a heartbeat, but you want to see what Aemond is capable of. You will admit Aemond is a tough opponent, he is definitely more of a challenge then you ever trained with. You will admit your uncle is a good swordsman, but you are better. 

Finally the fight ends by you disarming Aemond and pointing the end of your sword towards his neck. He raises his hands in a surrender, knowing he has lost this fight with you. You put the sword down, holding the handle. “Thank you for training with me uncle, I will admit you are a tough opponent. I feel honored to train with you.” You said sweetly, giving Aemond a small bow and a small smile. You walk towards Ser Criston, handing him the sword and walk towards your brothers. Jace gives you back your cloak, putting it on yourself. You link both arms with your brothers, as you three start to walk away you start to smile widely knowing you just surprised every man in the training grounds.

As Aemond saw you and brothers walked away, he couldn’t help but smirk. He didn’t mind losing to you. He honestly thought that was the most attractive thing you have done so far. Aemond always wanted you, and after that encounter he wants you even more.

[sortagaysortahigh]

don’t know if you have seen house of the dragon but i have to tell you that the fics for ameond targaryen is the best thing ever! it’s all smut and enemies to lovers🥵 that one eyed baby girl is really inspiring great fics

skghshg i need to finish im on episode 7!! then im gonna DEEP DIVE BECAUSE IVE SEEN SOME GIFSETS OF BABYGIRL THAT HAVE ME LIKE HMMMMMMMMMM

[thewitchthattellstales]

Like wolves watching their prey, she watched the dragon. Completely unaware that he could feel it, he was aware of it, and dragons prey on everything. His head turned, and his purple eye returned the stare.

wolves of snow and dragons of fire