#game of thrones 8 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crossingthedreams · 1 month ago

Text

growing pains — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: i know i’m late. shit happens. i’m having so much fun with this writing challenge that the lateness isn’t even bothering me anymore, lol. here’s day 08 — growing pains. of course i had to keep it in the family for this one (got it? hehehehehe)

a/n 2: hey! just posted day 10 - humiliation, which can be read as a prequel to this. check it out!

summary: the daughter of the Realm’s Delight and the Rogue Prince was a valuable trade coin. amidst the chaos, and fortunately for her, there was one who saw her as a person and not a merchandise.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst. targaryen incest (uncle/niece). mentions of death. slight ooc!aemond.

As a little kid in the Red Keep, you were under the constant eye of your mother’s step-mother. Your parents were always coming and going, and your siblings were all boys, who had the privileges that came with it. Your uncles and aunt were most often than not more than willing to ignore you, as well as your grandfather, the King.

Your uncle Daeron was sent away when you were very young, which was very painful, as he was very kind. The only one out of your entire extended family who could be considered as such.

From then on, with two grown sons and one far away, the Queen seemed to have more time with you. She always praised your silver hair, saying it differed you from your older brothers.

You weren’t even a woman, hadn’t even bled yet, when Aegon made his first pass on you. He was to be married to his younger sister, the Princess Helaena, and he knew very well your father, the Rogue Prince, would gut him if he ever laid a finger on you. Still, he made his remarks and made sure it was known throughout the Keep that he could have you any time he chose to.

Your mother spent most of her time in Dragonstone with your older brothers, sisters and father, and you got news from a raven that she was with child once more. Joyous news, of course.

However, even in happiness, you still felt a little left out. With the Blacks, you were the distant sister, kept away by the politics of it all. With the Greens, you were the first trueborn child of an heir who would never be, your legacy tarnished by the constant discussions of your brothers’ legitimacy.

Your Uncle, the Prince Aemond, was a constant in your life. Ever since birth, the two of you were always in each others’ camp of vision. Sometimes a bully, sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friendly face in tedious functions, Aemond was always there. You had danced with each other a million times in events, not only in King’s Landing, but all throughout Westeros.

As the second son of the King and the first daughter of the Princess, you both were disposable enough to be sent wherever the Crown needed an appearance, but the royal family wouldn’t be able to attend in its entirety.

He wasn’t always a dragonrider, much like yourself. You only claimed a dragon as an adolescent, and he made sure you knew how proud he was.

The Cannibal, your dragon. Never before mounted, always thought to be a wild, untameable beast.

You proved them all wrong, and when you did it, their faces showed nothing but horror, except for Aemond.

Aemond was there, and Aemond was proud.

It was the dead of night in King’s Landing, but you couldn’t sleep. It was when you heard the muffling and quiet running of servants from outside your door.

You knew you were in danger before anyone walked in, even though the reason was unclear to you.

You changed out of your nightgown and hid a small dagger in your clothing. Something was coming, of that you were sure, and you wouldn’t stick around to find out. Women, even royalty, only had two fates in a crisis: death or marriage. You refused both.

You didn’t fear for your life as much as you did for the second option. No one was insane enough to put a child of the Princess to the sword.

It was then and there you knew you had to go to your parents, in Dragonstone.

Aegon was married already, but there was nothing stopping him from taking a second wife to strengthen his claim. Queen Alicent was arduous when she needed be, and you had no doubt she would whore you out in order to protect her own children.

Your uncle Aemond loved you, of that you were sure. He would marry you gladly and he would make sure you were happy. When you were younger, the thought made your stomach fill with butterflies. You didn’t need the Iron Throne, you were more than content with your beautiful uncle, who rode the largest dragon and was educated enough to carry a conversation for hours.

Even with his quarrel with your siblings, he saw you as a valuable member of the family. The main reason for that, you now understood, was because your allegiance was questionable. You were loyal to your parents, but you were also living with the Queen Alicent and her children.

In your mind, all the family bickering and fighting could have been solved if Jace and Helaena were to wed each other, but the Queen refused, of course. A marriage between you and Jacaerys would’ve been the second option, and it probably would’ve happened, if Luke’s claim to Driftmark wasn’t so controversial. There was no doubt as to your heritage, silver hair and lilac eyes. You were the spitting image of your parents, and a perfect Targaryen Princess.

Such were the growing pains of life. The nostalgia and longing for better days, even though the days past were just as tumultuous. Above all, you missed the innocence you lost.

You looked around your room, and it pained you to realize there was nothing to take but yourself.

There was a secret passageway in the backs of your room that would either take you to the Small Council or outside. Leaving now seemed like the only sane option.

As you made your way very quietly down the spiral stairs, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would've been like if your mother and her stepmother had simply gotten along. Maybe you would not be fleeting King’s Landing in the middle of the night like a criminal.

It was then that you felt an arm involve you, paralyzing you, and a hand fly up to your mouth to keep you quiet. You began to react, but the soothing shh made you calm down. You recognized that voice, and you knew who you’d see even before you turned around.

Aemond was hiding beneath a cloak, much like yourself. He looked around to make sure the two of you were alone, even though you were in a deserted, secret, ancient passeaway.

“Uncle…”, you wanted to be honest and simply ask him what was the matter, but you had to play your cards right.

“Rȳbagon naejot issa (Listen to me)”. Your parents made sure you were fluent in Valyrian even before you fully understood the common tongue, and you were thankful for that. On the rare occasions you and Aemond spoke High Valyrian to one another, it was because something very funny or very important was happening. Now, you doubted it was the first.

Aemond’s one eye had so many emotions in them you couldn’t focus on one alone, and his hand still held your arm tightly. You had no idea what he was about to tell you.

“Gūrogon aōha zaldrīzes se jikagon. Se dārys iksos morghe, Aegon jāhor sagon vēttan dārys sir se ao issi nykeā trade gelebo hae se tala hen Rhaenyra. ȳdra daor sōvegon se route naejot zaldrīzesdōron, jikagon naejot Dorne nykeā naejot se Arryn's. Aōha kepa jāhor ao adhirikydho. (Take your dragon and go. The King is dead, Aegon will be made King now and you are a valuable trade coin as the daughter of Rhaenyra. Don't fly the usual route to Dragonstone, go to Dorne or to the Arryn's. Your father will surely find you quickly)”, he spoke quietly, but intensely.

“Why are you telling me this, Uncle?”, the frown was inevitable. Aemond had too many reasons to take you back, kicking and screaming, and present you to his mother. He was never kind, and this made no sense other than he was trying to lure you into a trap.

For the first time in your life, you looked at Aemond and saw exhaustion.

“Nyke bē ao daor naejot gūrogon aōha hen ao (I care about you enough not to take your choices from you)”, he said, not looking directly at your eyes.

Years ago, you would have believed him in a heartbeat. He had just said the most perfect words a prince could ever say. Now, a woman grown, you didn’t fully believe it, even though your heart wanted to, desperately.

You approached him, and your hand met his, that was still on your arm. The other cupped his cheek, making him look at you as you firmly said, “Gūrogon issa naejot se shores, mazverdagon issa aōha ābrazȳrys. Vīlībāzma hen iksos jāhor mōris istin īlon dīnagon īlva ēlī āzma tala naejot Jaehaerys (Take me to the shores, make me your wife. Whatever war of succession is happening will end once we marry our first born daughter to Jaehaerys)”.

You didn’t know how much your words resembled your mother’s. You would never know just how much it affected Aemond, making his manhood twitch with the thought of spilling in you and seeing your body grow with a little Targaryen princeling.

In another life, maybe, Aemond made you his. But now, as he well knew, the two of you had dance the dance to the choreography that was made for you.

He could still steal one moment, as all this was already borrowed time. Just one more.

So, he pulled you by your waist, closer to him, and pressed his lips to yours. First, your eyes widened, and then closed. You melted in his arms, and you kissed him back. The good feeling lasted only for a second before he was pushing you away.

“Jikagon se ȳdra daor jurnegon arlī (Go quietly and don't look back)”.

He was already turning back and motioning for you to go, leaving behind not only him, but the life you made for yourself, quietly. It broke your heart, but you knew where your loyalty lied: with your mother, the only heir to the now late King Viserys. Soon, you’d be back at the Red Keep, and hopefully Aemond would be forgiven. Hopefully, the two of you could pick up where you left off.

Even with hope still in your heart, you knew the truth. You knew Aemond was just a memory now, even if you could still listen to his footsteps. You were older, wiser, and it ached, but such were the growing pains in life.

415 notes · View notes