Scaly Tales | Modern AU! (Aemond Targaryen x Y/N)
Y/N works at her dad’s reptile shop, but only because he’s currently out of town. She, on the other hand, is stuck with snakes, lizards, and things that make her skin crawl. To be clear: she hates reptiles. They terrify her. One day, in strolls Aemond Targaryen — tall, brooding, and way too attractive for someone who’s genuinely interested in a green iguana named Vhagar.
Word count: 4,1k
TW // Strong language and profanities, mild innuendos, potentially dangerous animal encounters, alcohol consumption (beer).
“I swear to god, if that thing comes anywhere near me, I'm quitting my own dad's shop.”
Y/N muttered to herself, fingers clutching the edge of the glass counter as if it might somehow protect her from the green menace that stared at her from across the room.
Vhagar, the reptile shop’s resident iguana, was perched regally on her branch like she owned the place. Which, honestly, she probably did. The shop, Scaly Tales, was a low-key nightmare of flicking tongues, beady eyes, and the occasional hiss that sent shivers down her spine. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with an irritating hum, casting a sickly yellow glow over the rows of terrariums lining the walls.
Y/N tapped her foot impatiently, glancing at the clock. Another five hours until closing. Five hours of trying not to look too closely at the boa constrictor named Smaug or the tarantula in the corner that she swore was plotting her demise.
Just as she was contemplating the merits of accidentally leaving the door unlocked and letting all the reptiles escape into the wild, the bell over the door jingled. She looked up, more out of instinct than interest, and nearly choked on her own breath.
In walked a guy who looked like he’d been carved out of marble and decided to slum it on a random Wednesday afternoon. Tall, lean, with silvery-blonde hair that was braided. He had a scar running down his left cheek that made him look like he’d survived a pirate raid or, at the very least, a really bad skateboarding accident. He was dressed in all black and had a single silver earring shaped like a tiny dragon.
Y/N blinked. Twice.
“Uh, can I help you?” she finally managed, voice higher-pitched than she intended.
The guy glanced around, his one visible eye narrowing as if assessing the situation. “Doubt it,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. He had a voice like whiskey over gravel, the kind that made you want to lean in closer just to catch every word.
Y/N scowled. “Right. Well, the exit’s behind you if you’re lost.”
He chuckled, low and throaty. “Nah, not lost. Just… curious.”
“About?” She crossed her arms, feeling the sharp edge of her dad’s old Scaly Tales polo shirt dig into her skin.
He didn’t answer right away, instead, his gaze drifted past her to Vhagar, who was still sitting on her branch, blinking slowly as if she couldn’t give less of a shit about the entire interaction. “That iguana,” the guy finally said, pointing with a finger adorned with silver rings. “What’s its name?”
Y/N’s arched an eyebrow in confusion but answered anyway. “Her name’s Vhagar”
The guy’s smirk grew. “Curious choice.”
“Don’t ask. I wasn’t the one who named her,” she said, drawing out the word.
He took a step closer to the counter, and for a moment, Y/N’s heart did a weird little jump, like it was trying to hop out of her chest. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were looking for help around here.”
“Help?” She snorted. “Mate, you do realize this is a reptile shop, right? It’s no Canary Wharf.”
His grin widened, and he leaned against the counter, one hand casually slipping into the pocket of what clearly looks like a bespoke trousers. “Yeah, I got that. I’m not here for the pay. Just… interested.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into her voice. “Interested in what exactly? Because, no offense, you don’t look like the type who’s into snakes and lizards.”
He shrugged, a movement that seemed annoyingly graceful. “You got me there. Not into snakes. But I’ve got a thing for iguanas.”
She let out a laugh before she could stop herself. “Of course, you do. Why?”
He tilted his head slightly, considering her with that one piercing blue eye that looks unnervingly purple-ish from some angles. “I like that they’re a bit… prickly. Takes a certain kind of patience to handle them. To make them trust you.”
Y/N felt her cheeks warm, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she hadn’t done her hair this morning and was probably wearing yesterday's eyeliner smudges. “Alright, fine,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You can… I don’t know, volunteer or something. Just don’t get bitten or sue us, yeah?”
He straightened up, looking genuinely pleased for the first time since he walked in. “Deal,” he said, offering his hand.
She eyed his hand like it was a venomous snake. “Name?”
“Aemond,” he replied, his smile turning a little softer, almost boyish. “Aemond Targaryen.”
She stared at him, momentarily stunned by the sheer poshness of it. “Of course, it is.”
He chuckled again. “And you are?”
“Y/N L/N,” she said, shaking his hand reluctantly. His grip was firm, his skin cool against hers. She quickly pulled away, trying not to feel like a teenager meeting their crush for the first time.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Now, tell me… how do I win over Vhagar?”
She snorted. “Mate, I’ve been trying to figure that out for weeks. Good luck.”
He glanced back at the iguana, who was still watching them with what could only be described as supreme indifference. “Challenge accepted.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “Yeah, alright, Mr. Targaryen. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
As it turns out, Aemond was a bloody animal whisperer.
Y/N watched, slack-jawed and barely breathing, as he casually stuck his hand into Smaug’s terrarium — Smaug, the fifteen-foot boa constrictor with a temper that could put any football hooligan to shame. The snake, instead of latching onto Aemond’s arm and turning him into a human-sized chew toy, just… rested its head in his hand like a sodding pet cat.
“Oh, come on,” Y/N muttered under her breath, feeling a mixture of disbelief and, okay, maybe a bit of annoyance. "Seriously?"
Aemond glanced over his shoulder, that ever-present smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Something wrong?" he asked, and there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.
“Yeah, loads,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “Starting with the fact that you seem to have some weird Snow White powers over these things.”
He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that somehow made her stomach flip. “It’s not that hard,” he said, still scratching Smaug’s head with his fingers. “You just have to understand them. Respect them.”
Y/N scoffed. “Respect them? Right. And what, exactly, do I need to respect about the tarantula that tried to jump at my face this morning?”
Aemond straightened up, moving away from the terrarium, and headed toward the tarantula’s glass enclosure. “Arachne?” he asked, his tone teasing. “She’s just misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood?” Y/N echoed, incredulous. “Mate, she’s got eight legs and hairy fangs. She’s the stuff of nightmares.”
Aemond turned to face her fully, leaning against the counter with a look that said he was enjoying this far too much. “You don’t really like being here, do you?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly as if studying her.
Y/N felt a flush creep up her neck. She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not here by choice, alright?” she confessed. “My dad owns the shop, and he’s off gallivanting in Glasgow, so I’m stuck running this freak show until he gets back.”
Aemond’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah, so you’re just here to keep the peace?”
“Something like that,” she muttered. “If peace is what you call feeding dead mice to snakes and hoping they don’t escape in the night.”
He laughed again, a real laugh this time, not just a smirk or a chuckle, and Y/N found herself almost… liking the sound of it. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said, a hint of softness in his voice. “They won’t bite unless they’re scared. And they’re only scared if you are.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s reassuring,” she grumbled, but a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Aemond pushed off the counter and walked slowly towards her, his steps measured and confident. “Tell you what,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, like he was sharing a secret. “I’ll handle the scary ones. You just… look cute behind the counter.”
Y/N’s jaw dropped, and she felt her face go warm. “Oi!” she sputtered. “I am not… cute. I’m the manager here.”
He grinned, clearly delighted with her flustered reaction. “Right, of course. Very professional. Your dad must be proud.”
She gave him a half-hearted glare, but she couldn’t deny that there was something oddly charming about the way he was looking at her, like he found her reaction endlessly entertaining. “You know, I could just kick you out,” she threatened, trying to sound stern.
Aemond leaned in a little closer, a playful glint in his eye. “But then who would deal with Vhagar?” he asked, nodding towards the iguana, who had finally decided to grace them with a slight head tilt.
Y/N sighed, exasperated. “Fine, fine. You can stay,” she grumbled, waving a hand. “But only because Vhagar seems to like you.”
He nodded solemnly. “A wise decision, Ms. Manager.”
She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help the grin that broke free. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too comfortable, Prince Charming. This isn’t some Disney movie.”
Aemond flashed her a grin that was all trouble. “Don’t worry, love. I think I can handle a bit of drama.”
Y/N snorted. “Trust me, mate, you have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”
He gave her a mock bow, and she couldn’t help but laugh, a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in ages.
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The next morning, right at 10, just as Y/N was flipping the sign on the door from “Closed” to “Open,” the bell above the door jingled. She looked up, expecting to see some bored teenager or one of the usual reptile enthusiasts, but there he was — Aemond Targaryen, in the flesh.
He strolled in like he owned the place, wearing a crisp white button-up under a dark green wool coat, the kind that probably cost more than her rent. His hair was flowing freely in a way that looked both effortless and like it required some absurdly expensive product. He had an aura about him, like he was about to walk into a high-profile board meeting rather than a slightly dingy reptile shop.
“Morning,” he greeted, flashing that infuriatingly charming grin.
Y/N squinted at him, still half-asleep and clutching her cup of coffee like it was a life raft. “You’re back,” she said flatly, as if she was stating the obvious. Which, of course, she was.
Aemond chuckled. “What, did you think I’d scare off after one day?”
She shrugged, turning back to the counter to hide her smile. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. Not exactly Westminster around here, is it?”
“Maybe not,” he said, moving closer and glancing around, “but it’s got… character.”
Y/N snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
He didn’t seem to mind the sarcastic jab. Instead, he started rolling up the sleeves of his pristine white shirt, exposing the tattoos that ran up his forearms — dragons, of course, snaking around his skin in intricate black ink. She found herself staring, just for a second too long, before snapping her eyes back up to his face.
“So,” he said casually, “what’s on the agenda today?”
Y/N shrugged again, taking a sip of her coffee. “Well, first, we’re gonna open up the store, then do all the stuff that involves keeping these creepy crawlies alive. But you—” she pointed a finger at him “—are gonna do the heavy lifting. I’m staying a safe distance away from anything that slithers, hisses, or has more legs than I do.”
He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Sounds fair. I’ll take the snake duty, then.”
And he did. He moved with a surprising ease, lifting crates of feed and handling the cages like he’d been doing it for years. Y/N couldn’t help but be a little impressed. At one point, he was juggling a bag of crickets, a box of frozen mice, and a pail of water all at once.
“How are you not dropping any of that?” she asked, genuinely curious.
He flashed her a toothy grin. “Coordination, darling. Comes with practice.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small grin. He made everything look so annoyingly easy. And he had this way of making even the most mundane tasks seem… well, not fun, but bearable, at least.
After about an hour of this, she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the curiosity in her voice. “I mean, don’t you have a job or something?”
Aemond paused, wiping his hands on a cloth before turning to face her, his expression relaxed. “Nah,” he said with a casual shrug. “Don’t need one.”
Y/N blinked. “What, like, ever?”
He nodded. “Pretty much. My family’s loaded.”
“Loaded,” she repeated, not sure she’d heard him right. “Like, trust fund kid kind of loaded?”
He gave her a lazy smile, his eye glinting with amusement. “Something like that. My family's got more money than sense, if that gives you a clue.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re here, volunteering at a reptile shop, for free?”
He leaned against the counter next to her, a bit closer than was probably necessary, but she didn’t move away. “Yeah. Thought it might be fun. Plus,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I find your reactions quite entertaining.”
Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck and cursed herself silently. “Oh, do you now?”
He nodded, his grin widening. “Yeah. Watching you flinch every time Arachne moves is becoming quite the highlight for me.”
She huffed, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I’m not flinching. I’m… being cautious. That thing’s got too many legs for comfort.”
He laughed, genuinely amused. “Right, sure. Cautious. Keep telling yourself that, love.”
She glared at him, but there was no real heat in it. “So what do you actually do all day if you’re not… you know, working?”
Aemond shrugged again, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world. “Oh, I read, I go to the gym, I travel… the usual.”
“The usual?” she echoed, incredulous. “Mate, that’s not usual for most people.”
He smiled again, this time with a hint of something softer behind it. “Guess I’m not most people.”
Y/N bit back a laugh. “Clearly.” She turned back to the register, trying to ignore the way her pulse sped up just a bit whenever he looked at her like that. “Alright, posh boy. You want to hang around and be useful, fine by me. But don’t get in my way.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Y/N rolled her eyes again, but she couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face.
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“Bloody hell, the turtle’s loose!”
Y/N’s shout echoed through the shop just as she was flipping the sign back to “Closed.” She spun around, her heart hammering in her chest, to see Aemond standing a few feet away, holding an empty glass enclosure door in his hand like it was some kind of weird prop.
“And that would be which one?” Aemond asked, his face a mix of concern and — was that amusement?
“Triton!” Y/N hissed, eyes wide as she scanned the floor. “The bloody snapping turtle!”
Aemond blinked, then burst into laughter. “The turtle?” he asked, still laughing. “How fast could it have gotten?”
Y/N shot him a death glare. “Fast enough, apparently! And he bites, remember? Like, really bites!”
As if on cue, a low, angry hiss filled the air. Y/N’s eyes darted toward the sound and spotted Triton, the shop’s resident menace of a snapping turtle, making a surprisingly speedy beeline towards the open door of the shop, his jagged shell scraping against the floor.
“Shit!” Y/N cursed, darting forward instinctively before skidding to a halt. “Okay, no, never mind, I’m not doing this. I’m not getting near that little beast.”
Aemond, still holding the glass door like some absurd shield, grinned. “Come on, it’s just a turtle.”
“Just a turtle?” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “That thing has jaws like a bloody bear trap! I am not risking my fingers, thank you very much!”
Aemond sighed dramatically, tossing the glass door onto the counter with a loud clatter. “Alright, alright. Step aside, manager. I’ll handle this.”
He moved toward Triton, who was now hissing like a demon freshly unleashed from hell, his beady little eyes locked on Aemond’s every step. “Easy there, mate,” Aemond cooed, crouching down slightly. “We’re all friends here.”
Triton did not seem convinced. He opened his mouth wide, revealing a jagged, prehistoric maw that looked like it could snap through bone without much effort. Aemond’s smirk faltered just a bit.
“Uh, Aemond?” Y/N called out from behind the counter, where she’d taken refuge. “You do realize that thing isn’t gonna just roll over and play fetch, right?”
Aemond shot her a look over his shoulder, his smile somewhere between cocky and slightly terrified. “I’ve got this,” he replied, although he didn’t sound quite as sure as he had a moment ago.
“Famous last words,” Y/N muttered under her breath.
Aemond took another step forward, inching closer to Triton, who seemed to be winding up like a spring. “Alright, Triton, just stay calm,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You don’t want to bite me. I’m not very tasty, I promise.”
Suddenly, Triton lunged, jaws snapping with a loud clack that echoed through the shop. Aemond jerked back, nearly losing his balance. “Okay, noted,” he said, his voice tight with adrenaline. “Definitely not friendly.”
Y/N, despite the panic racing through her veins, couldn’t help but laugh. “I told you! He’s like the Hannibal Lecter of turtles!”
Aemond threw her a half-exasperated, half-amused look. “Helpful, thanks.”
Y/N glanced around wildly, spotting the broom leaning against the wall. “Use the broom!” she shouted, pointing.
Aemond grabbed the broom, holding it out like a sword. “Alright, Triton, let’s do this,” he muttered, moving in cautiously. He nudged the turtle gently with the broom’s bristles, trying to coax him away from the door.
Triton hissed again, then clamped down on the broom with a force that made Aemond’s eyes widen. “Bloody hell, he’s got a grip like a vice!”
Y/N is sweating bullets now. “Told you! You’re fighting for your life out there!”
Aemond struggled to wrestle the broom free, Triton thrashing wildly at the end of it. He gave the broom one last, hard tug, finally wrenching it free from Triton’s jaws. The turtle, clearly pissed off, made a beeline straight for him.
“Plan B!” Y/N shouted, scrambling onto a chair. “What’s Plan B?”
“Plan B is… I don’t know!” Aemond shouted back, darting around the counter with surprising agility. “Distract him!”
“How the hell do you distract a turtle?” she yelled, almost hysterical.
Aemond grabbed a bag of lettuce from the shelf and tossed a handful in Triton’s direction. “Here, mate, have a snack!”
Triton paused, sniffing the air with apparent suspicion, but then began to chomp at the leaves like a small, angry lawnmower.
Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Okay, that… that actually worked?”
Aemond wiped his brow with a dramatic flourish. “See? I told you, I’ve got this.”
Y/N shook her head, half-amused, half-terrified. “Yeah, alright, Targaryen. But next time, you’re wearing armor.”
As the chaos finally settled, Y/N climbed down from her chair. She couldn’t believe they had just survived a snapping turtle attack — and that Aemond had somehow managed to make it look borderline heroic, even with a broom in hand.
She caught her breath and gave him a playful nudge. “You just saved me from a killer turtle. I guess I owe you one.”
Aemond, still holding the broom like some sort of knight who’d vanquished a beast, smirked at her. “What would you even do without me, huh?”
Y/N leaned against the counter, still a little giddy from the adrenaline. “So… do you drink beers? Or are you too posh for that? I was thinking I’d get you a couple as a thank you. Camden’s full of good pubs.”
Aemond raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he’d laugh or roll his eyes at the suggestion. He didn’t seem like the beer-and-pub type — more like the expensive wine in a penthouse kind of guy. But then, to her surprise, his entire face lit up.
“Beers?” he repeated, his tone a mix of intrigue and enthusiasm. “Absolutely. I could use one after that gladiator match remake with Triton.”
Y/N grinned, genuinely surprised by his enthusiasm. “Alright then, it’s settled. First round’s on me.”
Aemond didn’t argue, and together, they locked up the shop. The evening sun was just beginning to dip behind the rows of buildings in Camden, casting a warm, golden light over the bustling streets. The crowds had thinned out slightly as people finished their shopping, but the familiar hum of the city still surrounded them. Street performers were packing up, and the faint smell of food stalls lingered in the air.
They walked side by side, the rhythm of their steps in sync, heading toward one of the pubs just a short walk away. The air was cool, but not cold, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/N felt relaxed. Even after a day of dealing with reptiles and rogue turtles.
“You don’t strike me as the type who hangs out in Camden much,” Y/N said, glancing up at Aemond as they walked. “Do you even go to pubs?”
Aemond grinned, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Believe it or not, I’m not a complete hermit. I like going out — just depends on the place. Camden’s… got a vibe.”
She raised an eyebrow, skeptical but amused. “Oh? And what vibe is that, exactly?”
He smirked, looking around as they passed a tattoo shop, a second-hand record store, and a row of graffiti-covered buildings. “It’s raw,” he said after a moment, as if he were describing a fine wine or a work of art. “I like that. It’s not trying too hard.”
Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “You’re a strange one, Targaryen. Loaded, reads like a scholar, hangs out with iguanas, and now you’re telling me you’re into Camden’s ‘raw’ vibe.”
Aemond chuckled, clearly not offended. “I contain multitudes.”
She laughed, turning her gaze forward as they reached the pub. It was a cozy, unpretentious spot with a neon sign that flickered slightly above the door. They stepped inside, greeted by the warm chatter of a few patrons and the clink of glasses behind the bar.
Y/N nudged Aemond toward an empty booth in the corner. “You grab us a spot. I’ll get the drinks.”
As she made her way to the bar, she couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was leaning casually against the booth, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking completely at ease in a place that seemed the polar opposite of his usual world. There was something oddly magnetic about him — not just his looks, but the way he carried himself, like he belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once.
“Two pints, please,” she ordered, handing over the cash before sliding back into the booth with Aemond.
He took his pint, raising it slightly toward her. “To surviving Triton.”
Y/N clinked her glass against his, laughing. “To surviving Triton,” she echoed.
They took long sips of their beers, and for a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying the warmth of the pub and the fading light outside. Y/N leaned back, looking at him curiously. “You know,” she said, her voice softer now, “you’re not what I expected.”
Aemond looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? And what did you expect?”
She shrugged, giving him a playful grin. “I don’t know. Something more… serious. Intimidating.”
He smirked. “I can be. But I suppose you’re lucky — I like you.”
Y/N’s heart did that little flip again, but she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too cocky, Targaryen. You’re still not off the hook for tomorrow’s snake feeding.”
Aemond laughed, the sound low and warm between the bustles around them. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
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