#back on my Rhaemond bullshit 👉👈🥰

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Fanfic idea: Rhaena loves books so Aemond immediately gets the maesters to make him a scent that smells like both fresh paper and quill ink and just drenches himself in it and waits for her to notice the smell

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Short little Rhaemond drabble about Aemond doing The Most™️ when helping Rhaena with her hair...

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(A no Dance AU, they are long since married, everyone happy yada yada yada etc. )

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THE LESSON

Aemond Targaryen was not particularly showy in public with his affections in the beginnings of his marriage. However, this did not mean he held no love for his wife. He was very much in love with Rhaena, but his rigid upbringing did not make him feel comfortable expressing his emotions openly the way so many others did and instead Aemond at first channeled his love into acts of service involving his bride’s hair.

The prince would make a habit of arriving to Rhaena’s chambers early enough that she was still getting ready for the day, and every few weeks he would simply sit and talk with her while her maids went through the process of freshening up her tresses. Until one day to her surprise, the fifth time Rhaena was getting her locks tightened and maintained, Aemond shooed away the maids and set to the work himself.

“I did not know you were experienced in the art of hair care, my love,” Rhaena joked, moving her head at his slight nudges whenever he selected a new loc.

“I���ve seen the maids at it often enough.” Aemond fastened a clutch of locs to Rhaena’s head with a long pin, getting them out of the way of the one he was to work on next. “I can do this for you just as well as they can.”

“So you can,” Rhaena smiled to herself. His hands, so adept with a sword and so skilled with the bow, were soft on her scalp. He was gentle as could be.

“I’ve also found a new tonic for your hair. To brighten the color with your regular washing in between your maintenance days...”

“Oh?”

“Queen Visenya would use it. Her own recipe. Not that you need it but I know how much you admire her and her famous concoctions. This one was buried deep in a food recipe book, of all things.” Rhaena hummed and enjoyed the information Aemond dumped on her as he would continue his work.

As time went on, Rhaena felt more comfortable asking Aemond for his opinions over a new accessory or headpiece to wear, often among guests at a ball or feast. He was usually seen toying with a strand of her hair, growing more comfortable himself in openly showing his love.

Being a royal, people often talk of you and your habits and with Prince Aemond and Lady Rhaena it was no different. First, it had been of the unlikeliness of their betrothal due to their less than amicable childhood. Now, the topic was of Rhaena having her hair looked after by her husband.

Many men of the keep thought it unseemly for a husband to have a fascination with his wife’s hair. Men were supposed to be warriors and rulers of their household, not lower themselves to participate in such frippery as looking after their wife’s hair...

One unfortunate day, one man was bold enough to voice this very opinion at training. Aemond swiftly and without hesitation shot an arrow through his jaw, not killing the man but doing it in such a way that his tongue was skewered through and rendered useless. No one rushed to the man’s side. Aemond called for a maester as he would call for a fresh horse. He tossed the bow to a shocked squire and walked over to the sword table, picking one as he spoke loudly and clearly.

“Let this be a lesson for all of you: my habits concerning my wife are not up for you to discuss,” he declared, picking up a sword and brandishing it. “I’m loathe to have all of you think me weak-willed and unable to handle a jest or hearing your opinions, so let me put you at ease: you can say whatever you wish of me. Talk of my missing eye, like you have for years. Continue talk of my position as a lowly second son. Talk of my lack of decorum at Lady Laena’s funeral all those years ago.” Aemond’s manner of speaking was light, not a hint of wrath in his voice, making his words all the more chilling.

The men remained frozen, the injured man continued screaming as the arriving maester attempted to staunch the flow of blood. Prince Aemond continued. “However, if you feel the need to speak of my lady wife in such a way that the things I do for her are to be perceived as....demeaning..know that your blood will be spilled. That is all.” With an unconcerned air, as if he had just finished giving instructions for the day to an attendant, he turned to clash with Ser Criston and continued training as the man he injured was dragged away.

Needless to say, no man in the red keep felt the need to give voice to such views again and Prince Aemond continued to care for Lady Rhaena’s hair.

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

This is supposed to be Rhaena surprising Aemond from behind...well, I try! And THIS time, I didn’t forget to include his scar! 😤

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

(Art by meeee)

I firmly believe Rhaena X Aemond would be a sunshine/grumpy ship! He would let her do things like put flowers in his hair but ONLY HER 😤

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

OK HEAR ME OUT

Rhaemond fic idea:

An AU where the dance doesn’t happen blah blah everyone loves everyone blah bleh bloooo ANYWAYS Aemond obviously knows he can’t fully control Vhagar *all the time*...so he takes precautions.

He always has a napsack of like water skins and long lasting bread and dried fruits on the saddle just in case Vhagar decides to do her own thing when he rides her and go on long flights or somewhere far way etc...

So It’s a while before Rhaena can ride on Morning...Aemond, as her betrothed, offers to give her a ride on Vhagar except whoops meemaw Vhagar decides to take them somewhere other than where her rider told her to....cue Aemond playing it off like he *totally* meant to take Rhaena to some random waterfall in the stormlands as a romantic outing or something ....

And Rhaena wouldn’t have the heart to let on that she knows and just acts as if it’s the most thoughtful thing and they proceed to have an awkward picnic that actually does turn out to be nice in the end since the sun sets and the sky will look pretty!

Perhaps Vhagar knew what she was doing after all *wink wink*

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Romantic Rhaemond vibes:

DOING EACH OTHERS’ ROCKSTAR LOOKING ASS HAIR

RHAENA BRUSHING OUT AEMOND’S MANE, BRAIDING IT, PUTTING IT IN A PONYTAIL ETC

AEMOND INTENTLY WATCHING AS RHAENA HAS HER MAIDS DO HER HAIR TO LEARN AND THEN A CUTE SCENE OF HIM INSISTING ON HELPING HER TIGHTEN THE ROOTS HIMSELF

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Forever stuck on hellblr mobile so pretty please just scroll past thank you! 🙏🏽

Another mini Rhaemond drabble! As always, set in a happy AU where no Dance of Dragons occurs! 😊

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Aemond and Rhaena at a feast, a few weeks after their wedding, just chatting. OK, ACTION:

Rhaena often found herself watching him, this stoic and alert husband of hers.

She thought him rather like a cat.

Ready. Observant. Elegant and Beautiful. So deadly, yet here Aemond was standing at the edge of the dance floor watching with a faint smile as Lucerys attempted a waltz with his new betrothed, some granddaughter of Lord Beesbury’s (who was unfortunately very inept at it. It mattered little to Lucerys, who seemed to relish in being able to save her in that moment, if only from her own two feet. )

“I do wonder,” Rhaena said, approaching Aemond and taking his arm. “If they have said the words to each other yet..it has been almost a month since she arrived at court. What do you think?”

Aemond scoffed. “Not a chance. He isn’t the least bit tactful. Probably thinks she isn’t there yet, even though it is quite obvious that *she* is.”

“Oh? And it’s obvious to you?”

“Has been for two weeks now. Speaking of which, Baela is more than likely with child again. Jace has ordered crate fulls of strawberries once more.”

“Hmm, she told me her moon blood was upon her?”

Aemond sipped from his wine, offering Rhaena some. “Well, she lies, my dearest. Rhaenyra is cross with Daemon, by the way. For what reason, however, I have yet to see. Best avoid them for the time being.”

They often passed the time like this, Aemond filling her in and Rhaena simply absorbing the information. He would rather throw himself from the tallest tower of the keep than be referred to as such but Rhaena thought him quite the gossip. Aemond insisted it was “surveillance”.

“So when do you think he will say it?” Rhaena asked, her attention back to Lucerys and his lady. Her own betrothal with Lucerys had ended amicably, both admitting that while they cared for one another it was not in the way that Daemon or Rhaenyra did and certainly not the way that Aemond and herself felt about each other.

“When the poor sod realizes how different it is, obviously. Then he will understand why it’s necessary to say the words.”

Rhaena was puzzled. “Different..? Between myself and her?” No bitterness was in her words, just complete curiosity. She had zero idea what her husband was talking about, this “difference”...had there been a section of his conversation she missed? “What difference does he need understanding of?”

Aemond smiled at Rhaena. “When he understands how different it is...loving someone who loves you back...then he will not hesitate to say it. It will not matter what they are doing or where they are, he will say it then and there.” He kissed her hand, sipping from his cup and kept his eye glued to hers.

“I love you.” He said simply.

While with his words he may well have been saying the sky was blue or that Valyrian steel cut better than regular steel, as if his love for her was an indisputable and commonplace fact of life...his eye was full of conviction and emotion.

And despite her fondness of gallantry and romance, the way he said it thrilled her more than any of the flowery and overly simpering confessions she had received from men when she had been at the Vale. Because it was *his* way. Her Aemond.

Who she, too, loved back.