#helaena targaryen you will always be so special to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peachysunrize · 6 months ago

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Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys.

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid…

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing.

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily.

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives.

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way…

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs.

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him.

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say.

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke.

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,” he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,”

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup.

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face.

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness? How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him?

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.”

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans.

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore.

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor.

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this?

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body.

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little.

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you.

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #prince aemond #aemond x reader #rue:smut #rue:angst #rue:fluff

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celandeline · 5 months ago

Text

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children.

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable.

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say.

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you.

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder.

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious.

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts.

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries.

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands.

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied.

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less.

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost.

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully.

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even.

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another.

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already.

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone.

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming.

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance.

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone.

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist.

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning.

“Alright.” You say, stepping back.

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work?

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone.

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other.

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed.

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable.

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city.

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside.

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you.

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon.

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder.

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr.

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.”

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own.

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded.

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears.

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young.

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach.

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom.

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says.

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king.

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge.

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say.

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says.

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze.

“Where else, then?” Cole asks.

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath.

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most.

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake.

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon.

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp.

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice.

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man.

Still, there is nothing to do but wait.

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion.

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside.

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub.

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut.

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised.

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair.

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window.

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries.

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within.

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall.

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail.

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop.

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward.

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin.

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth.

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest.

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision.

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you.

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along.

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring.

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you.

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing.

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing.

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own.

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering.

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship.

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach.

“Of course.” You agree, confused.

It’s been too long since you last did this.

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight.

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears.

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face.

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze.

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry.

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject.

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say.

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms.

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair.

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress.

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him.

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant.

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons.

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple.

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides.

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you.

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed.

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin.

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again.

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice.

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place.

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side.

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much.

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room.

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say.

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck.

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek.

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will.

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you.

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace.

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent.

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you.

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs.

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning.

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm.

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning.

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired.

But one cannot simply resign from the throne.

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan.

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions.

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words.

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company.

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge.

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful.

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice.

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king.

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake.

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face.

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will.

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition.

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin.

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you.

“As I, you.” You return.

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #hotd x reader

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darkestspring · 5 months ago

Note

Can you please do number 1 Envy with the Team Green siblings?

2k follower event | requests open

The three siblings had loved you ever since they realized what love actually was. They adored you and aimed for even a smile from you, but it hurt to see you always glued to their elder half-sister's side.

It was unfair. All she had to do was wave a hand and you'd rush over, all smiles and laughs, that ease at beckoning you transferred over to her sons.

Helaena didn't have a single mean bone in her body but she wanted you to look at her, to pat her head and praise her the same way you did with Jace and Luke. She had nothing against them but did she not deserve your attention too?

It wasn't enough that you carried all of them embroidered handkerchief's she had made for you, she wanted you to look down at her with bright eyes and a smile that put even the sun to shame.

Helaena's jealousy wasn't violent but Aegon and Aemond's was, they wanted to kill their half-sister and her bastards for the attention you showed them.

Just look at me with love in your eyes! Aegon wanted to plead with you.

If I bring you their heads, would you finally look at me. Aemond wondered quietly to himself.

I will give you more embroideries if you just smile at me. Helaena's quiet pleas remained internal.

They were like lost puppies, constantly following you around and searching you out, mostly when you came back from visiting Rhaenyra and her sons.

"What's so special about them?" Aegon had grumbled as he buried his face in your shoulder, despite standing taller than you. It looked almost painful to be hunched over like that.

Helaena grabbed your hand softly and Aemond hovered near by but they all agreed on the sentiment.

"I miss you." Helaena spoke softly as she moved closer and you looked at her, eyes softening into sympathy.

It had never really occurred to you that your time spent with Rhaenyra and her sons might seem like favoritism, that it might hurt them.

"Should I just get rid of those undeserving of your attention, so you can focus on us without distractions?" Aemond peered down at you and you gulped at the stern look in his dark eye.

Maybe it should have occurred to you, you knew Aemond and Aegon hated their sister and nephews. Helaena was softer, lovely, you had never thought her capable of violence but she was no less targaryen than her brothers.

"I'm here now, so don't think such things anymore." You soothed them softly, your free hand running through Aegon's messy locked as your gaze passed through all three of them. "I won't go anywhere anytime soon, so sit down, both of you." You looked over at Helaena and Aemond, Aegon had wasted no time in shoving his head into your lap as soon as he saw you so he was already sitting.

They sat around you obediently and you released a quiet breath of relief. "No matter where I am or who I'm with, I will always love the three of you."

"You'll always be here, right? You should only be at our sides." Helaena released her grip on your hand only to cling to your arm.

"That's right. Only be at our sides."

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #nico's 2k follower event

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year ago

Text

❝Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain.❞

part 01 | it's called a hustle, sweetheart

chapter summary:

[ The math is easy in Helaena's head. One brother, heartbroken and moping and in a red flag relationship redder than Mars, and one hot best friend who is definitely his type. It's 1 + 1 = 3, really. ]

[ 2,345 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— this is going to be comedic and stupid in its comedy, bear with me - fake dating, fwb situation, toxic on and off alysmond, no use of y/n - mentions of sexy times but no sexy times yet (it'll be coming though, so minors gtfo) - multi parts - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— the main vibe is silly and sexy !! you're hel's hot friend !! you getting it down with cregan stark (as you should) !! dunno yet how many parts, but we vibing !! comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

You and Hel watch her baby brother, Aemond of usually calm and pretty countenance, drag and wince as he took a mug of coffee- a slow, almost painful affair - mumble something, somewhat of a gratitude and an apology 2 in 1 special, and reverse drag and wince back into into the room.

It's a painful shuffle. A Michael Jackson awkward moonwalk attempt. A pitying regression from the usually very pretty boy you've made it a habit of teasing.

In the past few months, there hadn't be a lot of teasing from you.

When the door clicks, you turn to Helaena with an absurdly amused snort. "He's really such a pathetic little meow meow, huh?"

She slaps your arm. "Stop it. He's really down. Alys really did a number on him this time."

"She always seems to do a number on him every time they breakup." You fight the urge to roll your eyes, for the sake of the concerned frown on your best friend's pinched, starlight eyebrows.

After all, this isn't the first time of the very many on and off moments of the Alys and Aemond Train. You bore witness to it like you're sat in an empty cinema, popcorn stale and it hurts your jaw to chew, and the train has come unloose from the tracks about thirty minutes into the film, but the plot is predictable because it recycles.

Which makes it a garbage film you can hardly stomach, rolling your eyes and getting the fuck out of the cinema about to demand a refund.

Sure the first time, you felt bad, felt horrible for the both of them as it did seem like they loved each other. You had even commended the maturity of their decision, expressed sympathy and an even pious comments of 'but you were both so good together!'

But then the pity kind of loses its momentum when it's been the third time. The fourth. The fifth. So on and on and on...

At some point, you start thinking that maybe Aemond Targaryen— of pretty Jupiter glaze and cherry-pinched lips, a Greek god humbling at the image of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen's genes combined— third time's the charm! or fourth in Viserys' case, snort — is kind of a masochist.

Because despite saying that they're growing toxic for each other, he comes back.

Every.

Goddamned.

Time.

The maturity made way for screaming matches, bolts of peaking jealousy, and purposeful social media posts made to hook, line, and sinker the other person— like. Gods.

There was pettiness. There was red flags. And then there was the Wikipedia page that pops up when you search 'who is the worst toxic relationship?' and it doesn't even have a paragraph. Or a sentence. Just a picture of Aemond and Alys.

If Aegon Targaryen was made of easy vices and churlish, lazy smirks— his fingers, though cold and sometimes clammy, are still nice against your shoulder when he makes lazy circles at an attempt to flirt before you laugh it off and threaten rip his balls off, because if there's a few things that piss off Helaena, it's her older brother trying to go near any of her friends —

Aemond liked it in deep, ruby-red shards of a cracked heart being put together again and again. At first with superglue. Now he was more or less going with prayers and spit.

At some point, the pity turns to amusement turns to a roll of your eyes turns to concern shifting from the young man to his sister, your best friend, left somewhat the only one left to care for her crash and burn of a baby brother.

And you know for a fact that Daeron Targaryen is a menace on a dirt bike, and yet out here, in these streets, Helaena was worrying for Aemond.

Their mother's favourite child, their grandfather's most studious, and the pride and ego of Kings Landing U Business Department.

Helaena isn't used to worrying about Aemond like this.

You're not used to Helaena worrying for Aemond like this, and the usually pretty boy you liked to tease was starting to piss you off because of it.

"Hel," you start carefully, knowing you're threading on dangerous waters. As much as Hel adored you and no matter how many times she says her brothers are idiots cut from a blended cloth of her Hightower and Targaryen roots— she was also unmistakably protective of them.

She sighs, putting down the pancake batter she was mixing, and you, who was in charge of actually frying them, turn. She had hoped to talk to Aemond when he woke up, but clearly he was still very much smashed at any attempts of comfort or reprimand, even she wasn't sure anymore.

"I know, okay?" Hel mutters. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," you rush. At her doubtful look, you insist. "It's really not. I care about the little punk too. Even though lately I kind of just... want to hang him by his boxers on the balcony... make him see reason from there."

It works, Hel laughs. Then she smirks. "That little punk is only three years younger than you and a whole foot taller, babe." Then she blinks. Eyes going wide as saucers, which would be comical if not for the fact that she looked like she got the prophecy of Bathroom Urge Number #1. "Oh gods. Oh my god!"

"...Did you poop yourself?" Her face descends into a scowl, swatting you with the bowl. You yelp, giggling. "Hey, hey! Stop- Hel, you're going to spill everywhere! You know kitchen rules! No violence near the stove!"

"I was about to say I got it, you harlot! I didn't shit myself!" But she stops pestering you with the bowl as you snort.

"Okay, one, harlot? Who are you? A medieval peasant?"

"Please. If we were in the Middle Ages, I'd be a princess."

"That's actually too true, my princess, how dare I."

Hel raises an eyebrow. "But back to point- wait, actually, damn, where were you last night?"

Helaena already knew the answer. Apart from the fact that it is a best friend's duty to be apart of every slight and win in another's life, you had used your regaling tales about Cregan Stark as a means to distract Hel from worrying about her brother every time he broke up (or her; they're very gracious to each other as they take turns in piling to this toxicity), once again, with Alys.

"At Cregan's," you respond lightly, turning to flip another pancake into an awaiting plate. You were at Cregan's last night, so you only found out about Aemond's newly- and briefly - placed single status this morning when you got into the apartment you shared with Hel. She promptly placed her brother in her room while she, seeing as you weren't in yours, slept on your bed.

"And what did you do?" She knew exactly what you did— what you both did, every time since meeting again two months ago at the bar you worked.

"I helped him, uh." You stuck your tongue out, busying yourself with breakfast to clench at an excuse. "With his taxes."

Helaena snorts. "What does taxes have anything to do with the hickies? Gods, you look like you got mauled."

You snicker, fingers briefly dancing over the blue and violet marks over your neck and collarbone. It dipped lower to your chest and thighs, but you weren't going to tell your best friend that. By her wry grin, she already knew anyway.

"Okay, okay, enough of that. You said you 'got it'? Got what? A way to stop your brother's toxic relationship with the very hot older woman that we all known and adore as Alys Rivers?"

"Yes!" Then she hesitates. "But... are you and Cregan...?"

"What? No! I told you." You roll your eyes. "It's just a thing with us. We're both single, not really ready for the dating scene. He broke up with a serious relationship not long ago, he's not ready for it, and I'm sorry, but unlike your brother, is dealing healthily with it."

"With you."

"With me, yes." You shrug, turning off the stove once you've scraped the entire bowl. "So no, we're not in a relationship. But what's your plan got to do with my amazing- and frequent - sex life?"

"And you're sure you don't like him like that?"

You roll your eyes. Hard. "Yes, my royal pain the ass, I am."

Before you can react, Helaena has grasped you by your arms, watery lavender eyes wide and begging.

"Hel, I love you, but I don't like you like that."

"I love you too and same, no, no—"

"What do you mean 'no, no'? That is so offensive—"

"—I mean Aemond."

"I don't really love your brother either, though, I find him extremely pretty," you muse.

"Good! Might help with my plan!"

"What is your plan?"

"I will owe you, so, so much."

Your eyes narrow. "The fact that you're not telling it to me straight means it's a big ask, Targaryen."

As guilt flashes in her eyes, you know you're right. "So, so much. I swear. I will do your laundry— the chores! All of 'em! For a month!"

"Helaena Targaryen, I swear to the gods—"

"Canyoupleasefakedatemybrother?!"

You blink, triyng to unwound what she just spat in one exhale. "I am not fucking the sad out of your brother, that is also not healthy."

"What!? No!" Hel inhales, enunciating better now. "I said, Can you please fake date my brother? My poor, heartbroken, wonderful, you said so yourself 'very pretty', baby brother?"

She blinks, owlish and pityingly, the way you know she knows has gotten her out of a lot of messes. Has gotten her brother, Aegon, out of a lot of messes with their grandfather, who you know to be an asshole to anyone— the incident when he sideway called you a whore, still very bright in your mind; a grudge that keeps on going — but his granddaughter.

"Hel, I adore you, but that's the single most, stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No, no, it's a lot more complicated than just you fake dating him, duh, I mean like, he knows it too! Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain!"

Your eyes flicker to Helaena's room where said sad sack she wants to hustle the shit out of, is in. "Elaborate."

"I meant like. Okay, so we know how this is going to go, right?" She rolls her eyes, her voice lowering to a hush, but her grip on you is just as strong. "They're broken up, he mopes around for a few days, goes to the seven stages of grief the on steroids version, making weird posts and baits against Alys until one of them takes a bite, then they meet trying to feel each other, suss each other out, next thing you know, they're in bed together and we're back to the Good Days of Aemond and Alys as seen on TV! But oh wait, it's worse every time it recycles! Like your favourite show but with butt-ugly new cast they never address!"

Hel takes a deep breath, defeated and desperate all at once. "I am so tired of it. Mom is so tired of it. You're tired of it. And I know, deep down, Aems knows this isn't a sustainable way to love someone. To be in love with someone. But he doesn't know anything but Alys. She's his first everything- yeah, I know about that too, it's disgusting. But now... there's you! My very hot, very beautiful, very amazing best friend."

You nod. "I am agreeing with most of your points so far, especially the compliments geared toward me."

She playfully slaps your arm, continuing. "If we pitch this as like, you helping Aemond make Alys jealous... make it seem as if we're helping him out by sussing her out... you're a total bombshell, babe, Aems will see that there's more to love and lust than just Alys Rivers. It doesn't have to tell all, start and end with her. Every time." She grins as if she's so smart, finally releasing you and placing her hands on her hips to complete the look of 'Yeah, my idea is brilliant, I know'. "We just need to get his eye away from the not really prize, and make him realise there's more than just the toxic in and out of a failing relationship with your first love."

It's hard to tell her that her idea might not be so bad after all, but Helaena is already grinning as she reads your face like an open book, jumping and clapping around silently.

"Hold on, girlfriend," you say lamely. "How are we even sure I'm his type? Imagine thinking all this, and I'm a plate of grass to a carnivore."

Helaena snorts. "Please, girlfriend. You're older than him, hot as hell, and has a coochie that keeps Cregan Stark well entertained that he's politely said no to the female population that wants him. You are not grass. You are a prime rib-eye they need to ship from the other side of the globe and further ruin our climate."

At your snort, a blush spreading across your face, you press your tongue against your cheek, not willing to concede just yet but feel your will slipping with all the positives.

First, no chores for a fucking month.

Two, you'll have fun (in his own way), adorable pretty boy Aemond again, sans the toxic.

"He can't fall in love with me, Helaena," you say carefully. "I'm serious. I don't like him that way."

She is already shaking her head.

"Of course not, he won't. We just need him to focus on anything else other than Alys. Gods bless her soul."

"She's still alive, Hel, Jesus."

"But you're perfect for this. No ones going to fall in love with anyone. I promise." Helaena grins, tearing a piece of pancake and popping it in her mouth. "My plan is foolproof."

A few thousand hours later, her plan, is in fact, not foolproof.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss

#aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fluff #hotd crack #aemond fluff #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #hotd x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#helaena targaryen #alysmond #tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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marthawrites · 1 year ago

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Only A Scratch

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

Includes: One bed trope! A more balanced mix of plot and porn featuring elements of mean!Aemond, injury, dick sucking, cockslapping, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, and mentions of fem receiving oral sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story is based on a request from @babyaemond with the quote of "you know what your problem is?" with our favorite one-eyed war criminal. Thank you, Chris ily! 💖 I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you like it too! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

The realm might not believe it, perhaps not even the occupants and workers of the Red Keep would believe it, but, Aemond Targaryen was a momma's boy. He loved and respected his mother more than anyone else in all the kingdoms. With her nameday coming up, Aemond wanted to get her something extra special.

One afternoon while visiting Helaena during her embroidery time – little niece and nephews playing with him in the middle of the floor – he brought the idea up to his sister.

"I think that a lovely idea, Aemond. You fetching Duskendale's greatest painter? Mother will hang the portrait somewhere everyone can see," Helaena replied with bright eyes. "And they have those mollusks who produce the most dazzling pearls. You can't go all that way and not get her jewelry!"

Aemond smiled. Helaena and her children were the rare people to draw genuine emotion from the prince. "I will pick something in your honor. Your gift to mother."

"And Aegon?" She asked.

"Aegon won't get any credit for these gifts. He wouldn't even be able to keep the secret, much less add to the surprise."

The princess giggled; unguarded in the company of her family.

To say receiving the dragon prince's offer was a surprise would be a vast understatement. He wanted you to go along on this trip with him? Out of all the healers and maesters? Even if you wanted to, you could not tell him no. Bewilderment buzzed around you as you rode out of King's Landing on horseback with him, Ser Arryk, and Ser Erryk.

It wouldn't be a long trip. Perhaps a week, there and back, with some leisure time to enjoy the city when you arrived.

The twins were a skilled and respectful pair. You felt safe with them. You wondered, mind idly wandering as the twins led the way out of King's Landing, if you were Aemond's first pick for an accompanying medic. Fog rolled up from the sea and blanketed everything with a haunting gray. If it weren't for golden ways of sun piercing through clouds and fog like javelins it would be considerably creepy. Rays brought out your natural coloring, and when you turned to look across your shoulder to prince Aemond he looked wholly regal: silver hair shimmering, riding garb decorated with his House's sigil (as if anyone would need reminded who he was), breath hanging in the chilly morning air like he truly breathed smoke.

He felt you looking at him. "I don't need two eyes to see you staring so hard, girl," he said, turning the full attention of his single eye to you. Lilac. It nearly glowed in the foggy subdued brightness.

"Apologies, your Grace," you said with a guilty little grin. "The last time I saw you I was bandaging your newly stitched thigh. A much different sight than what I have of you now. You clean up well," you said, tiny smirk not leaving the outermost corners of your mouth. "Nasty cut it was… how did it heal?"

His face remained skillfully blank. There could have been a dozen emotions hidden behind that perfected poise; from his posture to the way he held the natural shape of his bowed mouth, he didn't allow you a glimpse into how your words affected him. "It healed well."

"I'm pleased to know I made such an impression that you'd request me to join you on this journey. An honor, truly, my prince," you said with quiet pride.

"There are two women in court who are heavy with babes. Both will be making their entrance into the world and day now. None of the maesters would risk leaving them," he replied with an edge of curtness, words clipped and even. "It was only then I considered you."

Ouch. "Oh," you said, a little taken back. "Well, I still stand by what I said," you added, trying your best to deflect the sting his words gave you.

"Hm," he hummed, smug. It was his turn to smirk, now.

The rest of that first day’s ride went relatively smooth and uneventful. That is, until Aemond got bucked off his horse. It was a miracle you were able to stay on yours! The twins’ horses, while still terribly frightened, appeared to be of a more mellow mind for they were able to be soothed while Arryk scouted ahead to see what might have caused the fright. You dared not leave yours during the ordeal in case you needed to get a galloping headstart. Tension hung in the air until Arryk came back. “A black bear is perhaps a quarter mile away,” he said upon arriving. “I didn’t see any cubs and the beast seemed unbothered by me. It was gorging on berries. Are you alright, my prince?”

Luckily Aemond was able to break his fall. Unfortunately it came at the cost of landing on his forearm upon a ridiculously sharp rock. A jagged cut ripped through his riding gear and into his leanly muscled flesh. You had helped wrap it with a clean linen bandage for now, but crimson bloomed beneath the binding. He would likely need stitches once all of you were settled into an inn for the night. “‘Tis only a scratch. Let’s get to the next town before nightfall, yeah?”

Arryk stole a glance with you, and then his brother, and you once more before nodding to Aemond. "A scratch," his eyes had silently said to you; a flash of sarcasm gone quicker than a blink.

The next town on the road to Duskendale was small and hardly worth mentioning on a map. Climbing roses in full bloom covered the inn's facade making it quaint and homely alike; their heady aroma lingered heavily and you wished you could bottle the fragrance. Echos of the scent followed you inside and mingled with savory foodsmells of dinner.

"'Fraid we're about full t'night. I hope you all don't want separate rooms," a middle-aged man with wild eyebrows said from behind the bar. He leaned on it as he looked all of you over. "Ain't seen one of you Targaryens around in awhile. Pleasure ta have you, Prince Aemond. Now, what can I do for you lot?"

"Three rooms and dinner for everyone. That's all," Aemond replied as he produced payment for the innkeep.

Turning, the man inspected what keys were left. "Hmm… I have only two rooms available." Pulling the keys from their hooks he handed them over. "One bed in each of 'em."

Yet another tense silence fell over the group. The unmistakable tingle of a blush rushed to your face. Shit shit shit.

"We need three. Surely you can kick someone out for the night," Aemond said a bit too sharply, fingers reaching for another few coins to bribe the man.

"Ha!" He guffawed. "No can do. Prince or no, I have a good reputation and I don't intend on breakin' it."

The twins shared an amused glance and you wanted to die.

"Fine," Aemond said as he took the keys and tossed one set to Arryk and Erryk. "See you at first light to break fast before leaving."

You followed Aemond into the room you'd be sharing for the night. One bed. You hoped it was a big one.

Once inside, any hope of surviving the night with all your sanity and wit vanished in an instant. The bed was tiny. And, as if things could get any worse, there was only one pillow and blanket. Surely Prince Aemond Targaryen never considered this happening.

Tension crackled between you two and you wanted to jump out the equally tiny window and run all the way back to King’s Landing. "At… at least neither of us will be cold in the middle of the night?" You half-stammered, trying, feebly, to break the silence.

"You better not snore, girl." He flashed you an icy glare but the smirk of his mouth spoke to something else. Amusement? A challenge? "I'm going to bathe."

While he was gone you were left to stew on the current predicament. Ever since you first laid eyes on the young prince he never left your brain. To you, he was unbearably dashing and roguishly handsome. He was cold, cruel (according to rumors), and smug in a way that made you want to strangle him and drown him in kisses alike. Over the last year or so you'd helped tend to his wounds a few different times, and each time you left with more butterflies in your belly than before. They said his kin were closer to Gods than men, and you believed it.

After hardly eating during the day you were half-starved. You ate your dinner while he was still gone, and left for the women's side of the bathing quarter before he returned. In your experience not all inn's had the space for a proper bath – you weren’t going to pass this up.

Upon returning – clean, refreshed, and still warm from the bath – you saw Aemond laying on the bed in his nightclothes with his uninjured arm tucked behind his head. It was stupid – absolutely fucking stupid – how handsome he looked in such a regular position. He was all long, and lean, and sharp angles. You wondered if he housed any softness within himself. He'd got a fire going in the small mantle and it crackled peacefully. Light and shadows accentuated the natural lines of his chiseled face, eyepatch practically orange in the glow. After a moment of awkwardly fumbling with your damp hair, you asked, "how's your arm?"

"'Twas only a scratch. I'm fine," he answered, making no move to shift his position to make more room for you on the bed.

"You're lying. It bled through your bandage on the way here," you retorted, squinting at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "And now it's done bleeding."

Turning, you double checked the latch on the door. Sure of the lock you turned back to Aemond. "Can I at least see it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Are you deaf, or daft?"

It was your turn to glare at him. "You know, I never truly believed the rumors of you being cruel." You threw a cloth you’d used to help dry your hair onto the table as you stepped, firmly and deliberately, across the small room to the bed. "But now I believe it. You know what your problem is? You are rude." Without allowing yourself to process what you were doing – and not giving him a moment to, either – you were straddling over his lap. Demanding. Determination hardened your features. "Let me see it."

Aemond tensed beneath you and the pupil of his eye swelled. He wasn't expecting this. His jaw feathered as the hand behind his head immediately lunged forward to grab your throat. Squeezing gently, warningly, he smirked. "And you know what your problem is? You are an insolent brat." Your eyes softened to those of a doe and it sent his cock twitching beneath your thinly covered center. "Mayhap you forget who you are speaking to, girl."

Breath shuddered from your lungs. You felt him beneath you and it instantly sent fire rolling through your belly. Desire. Lust. So easily he turned your irritation to something else entirely. "I only want to check on it," you said against his careful grasp, trying your best to appear innocent.

He laughed. "Climbing on my lap like this I think you want something else. Tell me… what more does this bratty little mouth do?" With his question he slowly released his hold from your throat, thumb trailing across the softness of your bottom lip. The darkness of his eye glinted when he heard a faint whimper tickle up through your chest. "You'll have to be louder than that…"

Without having to be told you grazed your tongue along his curious thumb, pulse hammering behind your ribs and between your legs alike. Could he feel how hot you were? Boldness coursed through your blood. "Your Grace…," you simpered, looking at him with dazed eyes. "I've wanted you for so long." You dared to nip the tip of his thumb, gently rolling your tongue beneath it. He tasted clean with hints of wood and smoke from stoking the fire. It made you ache.

"I've other things that need tending to, now. Perhaps if you play by my rules I'll play by yours," he proclaimed, pushing his digit further into your mouth. He hissed quietly with the sensation. Greed and need simmered in his chest, threatening to boil over. You weren’t even doing anything and yet you still drove him near wild.

Your hands spread across his chest. “Those are fair terms,” you said with a playful tilt of your head. Your eyes roamed over his throat and what was exposed of his collarbone. Sleek, pale, warm. He was so warm. How could he be when it was so chilly? You unlaced the lazily tied strings of his cotton sleep shirt, fingernails gently scratching down his front. You smiled when he hissed another inward breath. Beneath you, he neared full hardness. “Needy prince…,” you crooned, sliding from his lap as elegantly as you could so you were laying between his legs. You stroked along his cock through his cotton sleep pants, teasing. “Perhaps Targarenys are closer to men than Gods after all.”

"I like you better with something in your mouth," he said, tutting, as he shifted his legs a bit to give you more room. Now he moved, you thought, how generous of him.

Vibrating with your own need and impatience, you unlaced the front of his pants and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You gasped, satisfied. "So big, your Grace." He had a lovely cock. Truly. It was hot and solid in your hand when you stroked it, head blushed and swollen without you even having to tug downwards on his length.

You'd be lying if you didn't secretly hope something like this would happen with the tension of sharing a bed and room. But this? You licked up the underside of his shaft, wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking, and moaned at the sensation and taste.

Aemond groaned. "Is this what all you little medics do, hm? Tend to broken men before swallowing their cock?" He taunted, glaring at you triumphantly, mouth parted in silent bliss.

Instead of answering him verbally, you took more of his length into your wanting mouth. Flattening your tongue against him allowed you to hollow your cheeks. You looked up at him all the while, basking in the way his features changed; the way he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. You dragged your mouth up until only his sensitive head was wrapped by your lips, then down, lower, and up again.

"Fuck…," he groaned, eye rolling closed. One hand gripped into the thin faded sheets while his other moved to your damp hair. He threaded his fingers through it, gripping, tugging, just slight.

Your eyelids trembled as a needy whine broke free from your lips. He popped free from your mouth with the noise. You chased his cockhead; wanton. Saliva built in your mouth and the sounds of you lavishing his cock were borderline obscene. You willingly choked on him; you throbbed as you squeezed your thighs together.

He grinned when you came up for air. His hand unfurled from the bedclothes and moved to the base of his length. He gripped himself and held your head still by your hair, expression widening with smug pride. He smacked his cock against the side of your face, traces of your saliva shiny on your skin. "Who knew my favorite little healer was such a whore, too," he purred. A second and third series of smacks followed.

Bolts of lust jolted right to your core. You clenched around nothing; arousal gushing from you like syrup. "Aemond…," you gasped, vision hazy. "Please," you begged, unsure what you were truly begging for.

Him. Just him. Whatever he would give you.

"Such a pretty sound from your lips," he said, darkly and adoringly, as he delivered a final slap of his cock to the silky skin of your mouth. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the sides of your arms, pulling you up so you were nearly nose to nose. Without even looking he raked the hems of your sleep gown up while simultaneously yanking your smallclothes down. His fingers slid up your folds, testing your arousal. What he felt sent the entirety of his manhood aching.

He had to be inside you. Now.

"This little cunny is soaking. I don't even have to prepare you," he growled, shoving a long finger up into you without hesitation.

You might have peaked from that alone if he'd kept his digit inside you. If he pumped it. If he added a second. But, no, the prince did neither. When he pulled it from you he instantly brought it to his mouth and smeared your slick across his tongue. He smirked and you were sure you'd never been so desperate in your life.

Once again he gripped the sides of your arms and pushed you down into the old used mattress. He maneuvered behind you with ease. True to his word he didn't have to prepare you so he didn't. The young dragon prince guided himself right to your dripping center and eased forward.

You arched deeper beneath him, supporting yourself on your knees while propping your ass up as much as you could. The stretch your body yielded to his sizable intrusion was glorious. You moaned, barely able to bite it back as he buried all of his rigid inches into your core. When he pulled back to snap his hips into you, you cried out his name.

"Be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want everyone in this inn to know what's going on in here," he said huskily behind you, the tremble in his voice betraying his outwardly restraint.

You tried to be quiet. You really did. But his hand holding the hair at the nape of your neck, and the lewd slaps of your smacking skin, and the pant of his breaths, had you wild with bliss and excitement. "So good… fuck! Aemond…! S-so good," you whimpered, body becoming lighter by the second.

The half babbled praises from your pretty mouth had the prince soaring. He gripped harshly onto one of your hips while the fingers of the other snaked beneath your pelvis to work your clit. "Wanna eat this pretty cunt 'til you're crying, too. Will you let me?"

"Please! Yes, yes, yes please," you answered as if in prayer.

His pace quickened, the angle of his strokes hitting you deep and hard, cockhead dragging and battering against that wonderful patch of nerves inside your walls. Leaning forward, his silken hair tickled your back. He bit into your shoulder, harshly drawing your flesh between his teeth so he could mark you.

You squirmed beneath him. Gasping, you basked in the sharp sensation of his teeth. It was the final thing you needed to lose yourself to the euphoria.

"Give it to me," Aemond growled in your ear. "Give your Prince your pleasure. Squeeze my cock like the little whore you are."

You did.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high all the while. When you became too loud he turned your face into the mattress to muffle your noises. It helped. It also made all those sounds all the sweeter. For Aemond, it was the final thing he needed to lose himself as well. With a groan from deep within his chest, he pulled out of you at the last second and released his spend all over your back. It shone upon your skin. He couldn't help but admire it and he had half a mind to make you sleep with it on your back; marking you with his teeth and scent alike.

Slowly, you both came down from the natural high of orgasm. That cloth you brought in earlier was put to good use.

"I don't mind that the bed is so small, now," you said as you both got comfortable beneath the blanket. Laying on your sides seemed the best way; him, the big spoon.

"Me either," he replied, a grin audible in his voice.

You found yourself no longer caring about the state of his arm. Not with the way it laid over your waist and rested up between your breasts. He held you against him.

Sleep came easy.

When you woke up to Aemond's morning-stiff cock against your back you knew you had to find a reason to share a room with him for every night of the journey.

He would make it happen, he told himself, as he drew a lovely climax from you with his mouth before burying himself into you once again. All, before dawn cracked over the horizon.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months ago

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We light the way (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: House Hightower doesn't have dragons. But they have a magic of their own.

Warnings: Canon typical violence and language. Dialogue lifted from the show. Strong!Reader

A/N: I intended to finish the bingo, so I prompted myself: Aemond + witness + friends to lovers.

The magic had always been there. It was in his blood. It had always been. When Aemond was four years old, he had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming in terrible agony. Years later, with greater pains to serve as reference, he would compare it to the loss of his eye.

The wet nurse that tended to him and his siblings had burst into the room to find him clutching his arm to his chest, but was unable to identify what was wrong with him. She had called for help, and soon, the Queen and the Maester had been roused.

“This is most unusual.” The Maester pressed down on the inside of his forearm, and it had felt as if a thousand needles were digging on his skin. Aemond screamed. “I can't see any wound, nor has he have a fever.”

His mother stepped closer, a grim expression on her face. Her eyes were worried.

“Aemond, love. Tell me what's wrong.” She gently cradled his face, examining him frantically.

“Mother, make it stop! Make it stop!”

Alicent's gaze drifted downwards. On Aemond's inner arm, in green ink, there were letters appearing in a pretty, feminine handwriting. Aemond did not know how to read yet, but whatever it said, it was not good. It wasn't normal. Words did not suddenly appear on people's skin.

“Out! Everyone out!” She yelled, so forcefully for the normally polite Queen, that the Maester and the wet nurse scrambled to obey without questioning her decision. When they left, she brushed his hair back from his face and hugged him very tight, until the hurt went away.

Aemond looked down. The letters had stopped appearing on his skin, and now, words in green ink remained.

“What does it say, Mother?”

“Stop hurting my brothers.” Alicent’s face scrunched up, as if about to cry. She took a deep breath.

“Why is it here?” Aemond pointed angrily at his arm. Like any boy of four years old, pain and tiredness made him cranky. “What is going on?”

His mother looked at a loss for words. When he was older, she would tell him she was not too sure how to explain it, and had merely used her own father's version of the tale to make Aemond understand.

“Our family is different, love. Do you remember our words?” She gently scratched his scalp in the way he liked.

“Fire and blood.” Aemond nuzzled his face on her stomach, hiding.

“My words. Grandsire's words.” Her voice held a certain degree of annoyance.

“We light the way.”

“That's correct. We light the way, just as the Seven do for House Hightower.” She gently grabbed Aemond's forearm, and traced the letters. He shivered. “For some of us, the special ones, they light the way towards our destiny.”

“My destiny is hurting someone's brothers?”

“No.” Alicent laughed. “Your destiny is the person who will say those words to you. The words are how you will identify your soulmate. No one else, except us special Hightowers can see them.”

“Not even her?”

“Not even her. But she will have a mark like yours.”

“And she won't be able to see it?”

“No.” Alicent smiled. “You are very lucky, you know? Other Hightowers get less clear marks.”

“What do yours say?”

“I have no words, but a red thread.” And she lifted her finger, showing how a string of wool wrapped around it, and pooled, crimson red, on the floor.

During the coming weeks, Aemond watched. His mother's red thread twisted around hallways and stairs, passing over torches and bathing rooms, like blood flowing down the walls of the Red Keep. His sister, Rhaenyra, held the other end. Aemond realized then that if he wanted his soulmate, he would have to tie her securely to him, for a mark did not ensure anything.

Aegon and Helaena had no marks. Nor did anyone else outside his mother and Rhaenyra.

♧

The first thing Aemond noticed about you, upon meeting you, was that you were loud. You came into the world crying. No, wailing. As he stood near the birthing chamber, by his mother's side, he felt confused.

“Are all babies this loud?” He asked her. Alicent frowned. The cries sounded much more pained than it was normal for a babe, but Aemond did not figure that out until he was older.

His father had ordered that every member of the family had to be present during the birth of Rhaenyra's first babe. On the floor, Helaena was chasing a caterpillar, as Aegon played dragons and knights with one of the guards. His father was silently praying.

Aemond and his mother were sitting by a window, trying to ignore the screams. After enduring almost six hours of Rhaenyra’s agonized sounds, and now hearing the babe, Aemond had come to a decision. He would not have children once he found his woman, for it sounded hurtful to her and if she was meant to be his, then Aemond could not allow any harm to befall her.

“Not always.” Mother answered, with a wince. And then, another wail could be heard, joining yours.

“The Princess has birthed twins!” The midwife announced, joyfully. “A girl and a boy.”

King Viserys stood, clapping.

“Can we see them?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The midwife opened the door a bit further, allowing them to step in. Aemond, curious about the babes, was the first to approach. They were so tiny but…

“Your hair is brown.” He said to one of them, perplexed. Aemond carefully rubbed the babe's hair, trying to get the grime out. Then, he turned towards the midwife, accusingly. “You didn't clean them properly.”

His father's and Rhaenyra's smiles froze.

“She is not dirty.” Rhaenyra said, shortly. “She is like that, and she is perfect.”

Aemond frowned. He wanted to ask his mother how it could be, that the babe had hair different from her parents. But his mother squeezed his hand, harshly, and Aemond understood that she did not want him to ask that.

He looked at the babe. At you. You were rather pretty.

“She is pretty. Though she is tiny. I expect she will grow.” He gave a questioning glance towards Rhaenyra, who looked unsure. She didn't seem to like Aemond's questions, but he was at that age.

The terrible twos had turned into the horrible threes, and the curious fours. Right now, he was just entering the questioning fives. It would be an affliction that would follow him for the rest of his life.

“Of course she will. And you will protect your niece, won't you?” His father ordered, and Aemond nodded solemnly. He would.

Aemond failed to notice then, but on your arm, in childish black letters, the proclamation of the color of your hair was plain to see.

♧

Lady Laena's funeral had put you in a melancholic mood. Just like Jace, you were old enough to see the truth of your parentage and were mourning Ser Harwin. You thought it stupid, having to attend a funeral for a woman that you never met, while your father's charred remains were put to rest at Harrenhall without even his brother's attendance.

If it were you burying one of your brothers, you would have been inconsolable. You didn't understand why Lord Larys wasn't.

Watching Lady Laena's remains go back into the sea made you think of your father, and it was all so sad, you had started crying right along with Baela and Rhaela. Your uncle, Aegon, had laughed at you, commenting on your weakness for crying for a stranger, which only made you sob harder.

It was only natural that you had sought the comfort of your other half during the night. As of late, your mother insisted that Jace and you should be in separated rooms. She had said something about how improper it was, since you were growing older. You had not understood that either.

You had gone to him in the middle of the night, and fell asleep hugging him close. Jace was a source of comfort despite being younger than you. Your mother often said that you had to protect him, being the eldest, but Jace always said that he was going to protect you because he was going to be King.

“Jace, Jace.” A voice interrupted your slumber, and you felt the warmth pulling away. You held it tighter, refusing to let go.

“Jace, wake up. Wake up.” The voice insisted, and you pried your eyes open to see Baela's face staring down at you. The sight confused you, and you squinted at her. She was starting to tear up, and Jace still gave no sign of waking up. You shook him hard.

Jace mumbled something.

“Someone stole Vhagar.” Baela said, more urgently. It prompted your brother to sit up fully, jerking you upwards too.

“What?”

You did not hesitate. You jumped out of bed, put on your slippers and went to wake Luke.

After that, it was chaos. Vhagar's roars could be heard clearly in the distance, and you ran into Aemond slipping inside the castle, fully dressed. You did not need further explanations.

The girls and Aemond traded insults. Then, they were coming at him and they were rolling on the ground. Aemond made mention of your parentage, egging on Jace and Luke. You were too horrified to do anything but scream. You would have done nothing, four against one already seeming unfair without your intervention, if Aemond had not started choking Luke.

“Stop hurting my brothers!” You screamed, launching yourself at him. Then there was a rock, and a dagger, and you had given Luke an opening, and Aemond was screaming in agony.

The sight of his maimed eye made you shriek louder. There was so much blood, and you pressed your hands on it, as you had seen the Kingsguard do when someone was injured. Aemond slapped you, wailing.

“I am trying to help!” You said, stubbornly. Your tiny hands went to grab for his eye again, but Ser Harold was entering and removing you from him. For the first time, you looked down and realized your nightgown was soaked in blood. You started sobbing harder.

You had to be carried back into the hall, nearly catatonic. When your grandfather took in the sight of Aemond and you, he demanded answers. He started to yell, and gesture at the Kingsguards, only frightening you more.

Finally, your mother appeared, and you rushed to her, grabbing fistfuls of her dress with blood soaked hands.

“What happened?” Your mother picked you up, examining you closely. “Why is my daughter not being tended to?” She asked the Maester.

“Luke and Jace are hurt.” You cried.

“Show me.” Your mother said to the boys. Then, she scowled and repeated. “Why are my children not being tended to?”

Queen Alicent laughed. It was an ugly, grating sound.

“Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond complained.

“He attacked Baela.”

“He broke Luke's nose.”

“He stole my mother's dragon!”

Everyone was talking at the same time, making a terrible noise that didn't allow the King's words to carry. Even the Queen was screaming, until…

“He called us bastards!”

“Aemond… I will have the truth of what happened. Now.” Your Grandsire said, creeping towards Aemond. You felt a bit bad for him, being reprimanded by his father after losing his eye.

“What else is there to hear?” Queen Alicent sounded exasperated. “Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.”

You flinched. She sounded so angry. Your hand reached for Luke's, holding him close. You were afraid he might be hurt by the Queen.

“It was a regrettable accident.”

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush.” The Queen pointed at Luke, harshly. You whimpered. “He meant to kill my son.”

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Your mother stepped in front of Luke, Jace and you.

“What insults?” The Queen seemed distracted by something Aemond was muttering to her. They were too far away for you to hear, but by the way his lips moved, you thought it was something similar to “Mine… She… mine.”

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth was put loudly to question.”

Queen Alicent was starting to turn very pale. You doubted it was because of your mother's words. It was no secret to anyone that Jace, Luke and you were not Velaryons. You did not look the part. At all. It was no wonder that someone had finally said it to your face.

“What?” Your grandsire's eyes widened. Had he not known? You didn't understand why he was so angry.

“He called us bastards.”

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.” Your mother quickly interjected. Queen Alicent looked about to lose her mind.

“Over an insult?” Alicent sounded odd. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, but she kept arguing. “My son has lost an eye.”

The King started interrogating Aemond, but you were focused on something else. The Queen, despite still defending Aemond, had her eyes fixed on you. At first, you thought she was looking at Luke, but then you realized she was focused on your arm. Or your sleeve. Uncomfortable, you tugged your sleeve down. She was probably looking at the blood in your hands.

Slowly, very slowly, she was creeping closer. Her hand reached forward as if to grab you when Aegon spoke. “We know, Father. Everybody knows. Just look at them.”

More recriminations were to follow. Your mother, noticing Alicent's attention was on you, shoved you back behind her.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” The King proclaimed, loudly. His eyes darted from your uncles towards you and your brothers. Even at such a young age, you could feel something was irreparably broken between your mother and the Queen. Luke and Aemond too had broken their bond beyond repair. “All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”

Jace looked perplexed, as did Aegon. To them, the request sounded as unreasonable as it did to you, despite their short ages. You knew then you would never be a family again.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. Good will cannot make him whole.” The Queen complained, her brown eyes narrowing.

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.” Your grandsire sounded exhausted.

“No because it’s been taken.” Alicent answered. You shifted in your place, ignoring Jace's hands urging you to stay as you were. You felt dirty, hands and sleeves covered in Aemond's blood. It was sticky and it smelt bad.

“What would you have me do?” The King’s tone was exasperated, but cautious. He could sense there was something else at play, that the Queen would not allow the slight to go unpunished. Aemond, in the corner, was unusually quiet.

You squirmed even more into place. Jace squeezed your hand in warning. The Queen looked like a wolf about to pounce, and it scared you. You feared of what she could do to Luke.

But instead, her eyes darted to you again.

“There is a debt to be paid.” You felt as if her words were being spoken directly to you. “I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.

You gave a horrified gasp. Your mother looked ready to gut Alicent. Murmuring broke out across the room, everyone speaking at once. Luke hid between Jace and you.

“My dear wife.”

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.” Alicent's eyes were watery with just indignation. She was about to cry out of sheer frustration.

“Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgment.”

“If the King will not give me his eye, then I want her daughter. Who will marry Aemond like this? It will mean the loss of his ability with his sword, ladies will not want him.” She spoke hurriedly, as if afraid that if she let anyone get a word in, no one would listen to her. Alicent's voice raised. “I want her betrothed to Aemond. She will return to the Red Keep immediately. I do not want Princess Rhaenyra to find a way to damage that too.”

“My King, surely no one would reject a Prince of the blood.” Your mother said, weakly. Her hand clutched at your shoulder, fisting in your nightgown. You risked a look at your grandsire. He looked thoughtful.

“Ser Criston… Bring me the girl!” The Queen ordered, and Ser Criston took a step towards you. You cowered.

“That will not be necessary.” Your grandsire said. “Girl, come.”

Your brothers cried out. Aemond's face stretched into a satisfied smirk. Aegon looked bored, and your cousins horrified. None of that you took notice, but your mother. She was making a wounded, hurt noise. It sounded much like a wail. Her hand around your shoulder tightened. Daemon leaned in and whispered something to her, making her grip loosen.

“Go.” Daemon said, shoving you slightly. “Go to your Grandsire.”

And so you went. Up close, King Viserys was much more intimidating. There was a certain stench around him, of flesh rotting, that not even the medicine could mask. You lowered your eyes, staring at your slippers.

“Do not be afraid, child.” He gently tilted your chin up with a finger. “Look at me.”

You obeyed. He examined your face curiously. One of his hands grasped your forearm, and he looked at your hands as well. Self-conscious about the dirt and the blood, you made your hands into tiny fists, before relaxing them.

“Why are you covered in blood, but your cousins and brothers are not?”

“I tried to help him, Your Grace.” You answered, truthfully. You had thought you were really helping then. The answer seemed to please him.

“You are a good girl. You wish to help, and you will.” Viserys smiled. He seemed glad to have found the answer to his troubles almost accidentally. “Your marriage with your Uncle will unify both sides of the family. Go with him.”

Without any other choice, you went to stand beside Aemond. His eye was swollen and shut by stitches. He stared at you with his good eye, before his hand shut like a vice around your wrist.

Like your grandsire, Aemond forced your arm up. But instead of examining your hand, he looked at the inside of your forearm. You didn't see anything, but he seemed pleased. He grabbed a handkerchief and wiped your hand clean. Then, he grabbed your other hand and cleaned it too.

“You are mine. Mine, you understand?” He squeezed your wrist, sharply.

You nodded, eyes filling with tears.

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Do not mourn me, Mother.” Aemond said, slipping your hand in his. He looked at Alicent, evenly. “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon.”

“This proceeding is to an end. Whoever questions the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra’s children again will lose their tongue.”

And then, Queen Alicent was leading you out of the room with her family, a firm hand between your shoulder blades and the looming shade of Ser Criston behind you. You tried to look back, go to your mother, but you only managed to see the desperation on her face as Daemon led her and your siblings out of the room.

She would fight for you. You knew she would. This was only temporary.

♧

Alicent sighed, tiredly. She had just put you to bed on the loveseat inside her rooms. She was too afraid of Rhaenyra whisking you away in the middle of the night to do otherwise. You had taken a long time to settle. Poor thing that you were, you had been crying silently as the maids made you bathe and found you a clean nightgown.

Alicent was sharply reminded of when she was told she would marry the King. She had been afraid too. Terrified, in fact. Back then, Viserys had seemed like such an imposing man, and he had not been kind to her. As the sickness got the better of her, Alicent felt a secret pleasure at seeing him humbled. She actually enjoyed doing her duty and caring for him, if only because she could remind herself he was weak. The cruel man who had hurt her now had started to rely increasingly on her. Her stomach twisted in dark satisfaction. Not so great now, huh?

That was not the point. It was for the best, Alicent tried telling herself. You would be happy with Aemond. This was nothing like her situation. The gods had made Aemond and you perfect for one another. You just had to get used to him first.

Alicent had been older, though. You were a girl not yet flowered. And she had her father at court. Alicent had never wanted to go to him, but she had had the option.

You had no one. And you knew it. You had sobbed quietly into your pillow as Alicent whispered reassurances and rubbed your back. When you had finally calmed down, you had given her big pleading eyes and asked for her to allow you to say goodbye. She had felt as if she was the worst person in Westeros.

“The Hand, Your Grace.” The voice startled her. She looked up to find her father already in the room.

“Say your piece.”

“Now, what piece is that?” Her father raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve conducted myself in a manner… unbefitting my station. I lost composure and made a scene.”

“All true.” But despite his words, Otto sounded amused.

“I disgraced myself.” Alicent went on, unsure of what he was thinking. She disliked that he was so difficult to read. She could never tell if he was about to reprimand her or congratulate her. “But it was necessary. The girl is…”

“I have never seen that side of you, my daughter. I even doubted its existence.” Otto's reply was calm and measured, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes.

“It was an ugly thing. I regret it.” Separating a mother from her daughter, no matter how wretched the mother was…. You would need Rhaenyra, in the years to come. You would flower, grow, need to be told about heirs and taught womanly things. But Rhaenyra would have never allowed you to come, if Alicent had not forced her hand. She would not understand. She was not a Hightower.

This was best. No matter how lonely you got, you would always have Aemond.

Yet Alicent remembered her own maiden years without a mother, and her heart hurt. You would be lost at court. You were a child. But just as Rhaenyra had not spared Aemond, she could not spare you.

“We play an ugly game. And now, for the first time, I see that you have the determination to win it.” Her father spoke, and it was then she realized they were having two different conversations.

“No, Father. That's not why…” Alicent sighed. Sometimes, it was better that certain things were seen rather than told. “Get up. Come.”

She led him towards where you peacefully slept. Her father remained puzzled.

“Alicent…”

And it was then that you rolled onto your side, showing the inside of your arm. In scraggly, black letters, the insult remained exactly the same as it had been spoken aloud. “Your hair is brown.”

Otto staggered back.

“You see, now?” Alicent asked him, voice wavering. “I had to take her. I had to, Father. Right? She is Aemond's. Rhaenyra already took so much from him, I couldn't let her have her, too.”

“You did the right thing.” Otto squeezed her shoulder, as he bent down to cover you more with the furs. “She is his, yes. But she will also prove invaluable in the years to come.”

“How so? Preventing war?”

“She will sit on the Iron Throne. Why should a man rule, if she was born first?” Her father smirked. “Keep a grip on your passions. And I promise you, in time, you and I together will prevail. What that rogue Aemond has done in winning Vhagar and her to our side… The boy was right. It’s worth a thousand times the price he paid.”

♧

Aemond had found he did not like his soulmate very much. You were shy and easily frightened, and you spent most of your days crying in the corners.

You were little, his mother said. It was normal that you were taking your time to adjust.

This was nothing like Aemond expected. You being his seemed like a great jape. You cried at everything and managed to be more annoying than Aegon. Then, there was the fact of your parentage. Why would he be cursed with a bastard for a soulmate? Had he slighted the Seven in some way?

“Stop crying.” He snapped at you. “You look like a fool.”

You sniffled, quietly. Helaena had invited you to go catching bugs with her, but you had started sobbing when the first caterpillar was placed on your arm. Aemond had to intercede, pulling you aside, but you had only cried harder. If there was something in which you resembled Rhaenyra, it was in the fact that you always made your displeasure known.

The only time you seemed at peace was with a book in your hands. His mother had noticed that particular miracle when one afternoon, upset at Aegon tugging on your dark braids, you had disappeared. Alicent had been frantic, sending servants to turn the Red Keep upside down in your search. She had found you by accident, sitting in the library with a book open on your lap, comically large for your childish body. The attempt at self soothing had been noted and tucked away to ruminate later on.

“Aemond.” His mother said, sharply. He sighed. It wasn't like he tried to scare you on purpose. Just that Aemond was not too sure what to do with you. Girls were not his primary concern, but he supposed you were to be endured.

Later that day, his mother pulled him aside.

“If you treat her cruelly, she will grow to resent you.” He was too young to catch it then, but there was a glimmer in Alicent’s eyes that indicated she spoke out of personal experience. “This is not how you win her over.”

“She is mine, though.” Aemond scowled. There was no need to win you over. His father had already ordered your marriage to him. Not even Princess Rhaenyra could oppose it.

Besides, you were a bastard. It was obvious to anyone with eyes. You should be grateful Aemond paid you any sort of attention, even if it was negative. When you grew older, and your strong features made themselves even more known, no one would want you.

You were the lucky one. Not him.

“Soulmarks do not ensure anything.” His mother said, her tone turning slightly less patient.

“But father gave her to me.”

His mother looked up, as if begging to the Seven Heavens for fortitude.

“Betrothals and marriages can be annulled by a King.” Aemond frowned. Why would his father change his mind? “Or a Queen.”

“Oh.” Aemond had not considered that possibility. He would have to ensure the two of you were married by the time your mother took the crown. And hopefully, if he could manage, get a babe too. That would be much harder to annul.

“You need to make her want to stay.” His mother had a point there. It was a much simpler solution than what Aemond was concocting. There was only the issue of how. Aemond had no clue what to do with girls, and you cried so much it was off-putting.

“How?”

“Be kind. She is lonely here. She needs a friend.”

He found you crying again the next day. You had scrapped your knee on the dragonpit, after visiting your growing dragon. You were inconsolable, face covered with snot and eyes swollen from so much crying.

Aemond would have scoffed at your weakness, were it not for the lingering memory of his mother’s words.

He fetched water and a clean linen, and kneeled in front of you. Big, teary eyes stared down in confusion. Your dark eyelashes, clumped together with tears, and another reminder of your bastardy, fluttered. You gave a few harsh blinks.

“The King gave me you.” Aemond enunciated, slowly. He wanted to make sure you understood his meaning. “You are mine to guard and protect. And to care for.”

Your dark eyes, pretty for a bastard, widened. You pulled your leg back, but Aemond made sure to hold your knee firmly, and continued tending to your injury.

“Nothing bad will happen to you. I ride Vhagar, the biggest dragon in existence.”

That didn't seem to reassure you much, either. You flinched as if hurt by the thought of Vhagar. Probably scared, remembering exactly how he had won her.

Aemond tried to recall what normal girls liked. Helaena was no use, but of the few times he had crossed paths with his other nieces, he had a lasting impression of romantic gestures and delusions.

“When we are older, we will marry, and I shall be very kind. You will love me very much and you will never be alone again.” Aemond rubbed your kneecap, gently.

Your jaw was hanging open, but you didn't even make a peep. He sighed, exhausted again. You were stubborn, so there was no point in expecting you to… Aemond was unable to finish the train of thought. His mind had gone blank.

Your arms were around him and you were not letting go.

♧

It spirals, after that. You are quiet, the consequence of a childhood spent near Jacaerys, Aegon and Lucerys. They seemed to have much louder voices than you. Yet, at the same time, you are always making yourself known.

Be it a hand curling around his wrist to drag him to the kitchens to try the newest lemon cakes, or a swift tug to his jerkin to get Aemond to pay attention, your feelings are loud and clear.

Aemond has never been particularly playful or fond of the outdoors. He much prefers studying philosophy and history. At two and ten years of age, it is a bit late for him to take part in childish games like monsters and maidens or come-into-my-castle, but you are younger than he by a few years, so he accepts his fate easily enough. You will grow out of it, Aemond muses, and it's not entirely unpleasant to be the one that causes you to shriek in laughter.

Besides, it's not like the two of you only do things that please you. Often, you curl with him near the fire, a book in your hands, while Aemond studies his lessons. Aemond finds your weight against his side comforting, and he feels a vicious sort of pleasure at enjoying something you used to do with your twin.

He might not be able to take Lucery's eye. He might never manage to hurt Jacaerys. But Aemond will take their sister, make no mistake. Soon, the day will come that they visit the Red Keep and something will happen, and you will run to Aemond's arms for comfort. Not theirs. And it will be all the vindication he needs, watching those stupid Strong boys gape at their beloved sister’s preference.

You have been growing well. He is satisfied to notice that you have intelligent eyes and that you take well to your lessons. You curtsy and dance as well as a lady of twice your age, your manners are pleasing, and you know the Seven Pointed Star by heart. Once could almost forget you are a bastard and not a miniature copy of Alicent, with how often you have taken to following her around.

Aemond is not a fool. His grandfather has taken an unusual liking to you, and is frequently imparting lessons. His mother pays you more attention than she does to Helaena. It may be guilt on his mother's part, but his grandsire does not have such qualms. He is no woman. They are grooming you to rule.

“Aemond!” You run towards him, excitedly. “I want to go riding. Can we?”

“I don't know, Princess.” He smirks. One thing he likes about being older than you is the ability to lord his knowledge over you. You get so huffy and pouty, it makes him understand why Aegon enjoyed teasing him so much. He would never be as cruel to you, though. You are too sweet for it. “Can we?”

“You know what I meant!” You scowl at him. Your limbs seem to be vibrating with the force of will it takes not to stomp your foot like a commoner.

“Of course we can. You have a dragon and I do too, we are both very proficient…” Aemond teases, enjoying the way your face scrunches up in displeasure at the knowledge you will have to bend.

“May we!” Your voice raises slightly. “Mean!”

Aemond waits a moment, letting the suspense build. Your lower lip trembles, fighting the urge to pout.

“Please?” You say, brown eyes pleading. It doesn't bother him as it used to, your darker features. Aemond has found there is a certain beauty in your hair and eyes. Besides, Aegon has told him that the women at the Riverlands are much more pretty than those of House Targaryen. If he was not jesting, you would grow into a beautiful woman thanks to your Strong blood.

“Fine. We will go.” He is careful to keep his tone gruff, as if he was doing you some great favor. In truth, Aemond enjoys the activity as much as you do. He has to be careful, with your dragon and you being smaller than Vhagar and him, but it is fun to race you. He even lets you win, sometimes.

Sometimes, though, you win fair and square. It's very troubling. You have started to become distracting, and too often Aemond thinks of how pretty you look with the blue backdrop, riding a dragon like a true Targaryen. It's then that you take advantage and push your dragon further, faster, until you surpass him and Aemond shakes himself out of the spell you cast on him.

He wonders if kissing is as pleasant as Aegon says it is. Your clever mouth looks soft, and Aemond knows you would yield to him easily. He is very curious about how your hair would feel on his hands, and how it would look coming undone from your braids.

A joyful little sound brings him out of his contemplation. You are hiking up your skirts and breaking into a sprint.

“Last one there carries the books for a whole week!”

“Oh, you are on.” And he is running after you, hot on your heels, as if he were a boy once more.

♧

Alicent can't sleep. The storm raging outside keeps her awake, pacing. Viserys is getting worse with every day that passes, and she fears she is living on borrowed time.

Will Rhaenyra kill Aegon? Even with the betrothal of Aemond to you, Alicent doubts she will stand down. The letters that have come are few and far in between, getting even more spaced out now that you are happier and Rhaenyra is having Daemon's children.

Jacaerys is the only one who keeps a steady stream of communication with you. Alicent is guilty of reading his letters. She has committed that particular sin various times. Among the tales of your week and the recounting of how much you miss your other half, there are some troubling thoughts. Has mother replaced me? Does she not love me anymore? Will you too forget about me?

He tries being reassuring, but he knows the truth. Just as Alicent does too. Rhaenyra hates being anything but the center of attention. She had been a regular mother to you, but she cannot stand the influence Alicent is having on your life, nor can she tolerate that you are happy with it. If you wrote tales of your unhappiness, of your unwillingness to marry Aemond, Rhaenyra would be loving and supportive. But you are too honest for that.

At first, Alicent had taken to mothering you as a way of atoning for her sins. She had dragged you away from home when you were a child. She had gifted you to Aemond. It had been her fault that her father decided you would sit on the Iron Throne after Rhaenyra was dead.

But now, caring for you comes naturally. You were an easy child. Sweet natured, and starved for affection. You were not like Helaena. Instead, you enjoyed placing ribbons in your hair and trying on new dresses, and you were actually interested when Alicent spoke of the Faith.

Most of all, though, you loved Aemond with all your heart. You followed him everywhere, be it cheering for him in the stands as he trained, or helping him get to his chambers when the pain in his eye turned into a migraine. It made Alicent love you even more.

There were times, though, when your love for Aemond turned problematic. Suspecting tonight was one of those times, Alicent decided to stop her senseless pacing and go check on you.

The guards stationed outside your hallway squirmed in their posts when confronted with the sight of Alicent.

“Let me guess.” She said, tiredly. “The Princess is not in her rooms.”

“No, Your Grace.” One of them said, lowering his head in shame. Alicent fought the urge to scream at their incompetence. How could one girl, barely two and ten, manage to slip past two guards? Alicent loved you like you were her own, but you were just too much like Rhaenyra sometimes.

“Thank you.” Alicent inwardly was cursing up a storm. She knew exactly where you were.

It was not long before she found herself outside Aemond's chambers. This set of guards looked more grim.

“Do not tell me. The Princess is inside.” Alicent asked, flatly. The guards only stepped aside, curtsying to her.

The bed was too small to hold both of you comfortably, so you were laying on your sides. Aemond was not wearing his eye patch, and Alicent thought him asleep. Your head was resting on his shoulder, half squeezed against his arm in a position that could not be comfortable for your neck.

Both of you still had your nightclothes on. Alicent could have danced in relief. She had enough as it was with Aegon to add you two to the list.

“Mother.” Aemond whispered, very quietly. He had you hugged to him, and now that she looked more closely, Alicent could tell he was rubbing your back up and down. She wondered how long he had been standing guard.

“You are five and ten. She has already flowered. This has to stop.” She whisper-shouted.

“I am not going to dishonor her, mother, for the Seven's sake! I am not Aegon.” Aemond whisper-shouted back, being careful not to move you.

“What are you doing, then?” She placed her hands on her hips and looked down at your sleeping form. While it was true that you were entirely dressed, the way Aemond held you lately was less friendly and more of a lover's embrace.

You sighed in your sleep, sweetly, and hid your face against his neck. Both of them went quiet for a few seconds.

Only when you were settled again, Aemond dared to speak.

“The same as always. She was scared. She used to climb in with…”

Alicent rolled her eyes. She had heard the same excuse too many times to count.

“Prince Jacaerys, I know. Just as I have known since you were ten, but neither of you is a child any longer.”

“Mother…”

“What will the maids think come the morrow? The guards? They will see her coming out of your quarters. You can't keep doing this. I have tolerated it far too long.” The guards already knew. Used as they were at keeping their King's secrets, no one had thought to speak yet. They, too, believed it was harmless behavior. But both of you were getting older and Alicent feared the day when Aemond's hands turned from consoling to groping, and your soft little hugs turned into passionate embraces.

“It's entirely innocent, Mother, I swear.” Aemond looks vaguely offended by the thought and Alicent has to steady herself because of the audacity of this child! No, she was surely atoning for all her past deeds with the two of you. Aegon was sent to taunt her with her failures as a mother, and the two of you were destined to remind her of Rhaenyra and her failures as a friend. Thank the Gods Helaena was normal, in comparison.“I wouldn't touch her like that. I don't intend to hurt her.”

Alicent stopped her complaint before it left her mouth. Surprise made her eyes go wide. Then, with her softest voice, she tried to fix this.

“It's… Oh, Aemond. It's not meant to be hurtful.” Poor child. Who had told him intercourse was meant to hurt? Alicent had kept her woes in that area strictly to herself. Aegon and Rhaenyra flaunted loudly that they enjoyed it very much. So why was Aemond so afraid?

“But it hurts you. It hurts Helaena. It hurts the girls Aegon…”

She deflated. So worried had Alicent been about precocious youths, she had never stopped to think about how she had never explained to them what the marital duties were. Painful. Hurtful. Alicent could not deny that. Men did not care for the pleasure of women and were it not for the fact that she had been friends with Rhaenyra once, Alicent would think it hurtful by nature too. It was not meant to be that way, even if she herself had not experienced the pleasure people went on and on about.

Alicent had to reassure Aemond. It was vital that once he married, he produced heirs. His grandsire's plan depended on it. That would not be achieved if he was afraid of touching you. Besides, your situation was different. You were marrying your soulmate. Your other half.

She felt utterly unable to help Aemond realize it was not meant to be hurtful, but magical and blessed by the Gods. Her father was better suited to giving this talk than her. He was the one who had actually married his destined partner.

Sometimes, she wondered if you two were a way for the Seven to fix history. When you did willful, reckless things with no care for your reputation, she could see Rhaenyra running around the Red Keep, despite the different coloring. And when Aemond, dutiful, serious Aemond, got all uppity about the topics and scandalized himself, it was as if looking at herself during the past.

Alicent would never say it out loud, but she liked your coloring. When she looked at you from a certain light, she could pretend you were Rhaenyra and hers. And when Aemond chased you around, long silver hair at his back, she could almost pretend it was the two of them again, racing in the hallways of the Red Keep.

We light the way indeed. The Gods could be very cruel.

No, Alicent thought bitterly, she had lacked the necessary parts to keep her soulmate by her side. Let her father take this one.

“It does. But you will not be rough with her. It will feel pleasant, and that is why it is so dangerous. She will not want you to stop, you will not want to, either.” She keeps her tone reassuring. Aemond looked fully offended now, a fierce scowl on his face. As if he were being accused of a terrible crime.

“Of course I wouldn't be rough with her. She is mine.” He scoffed, all haughty. Alicent fought the urge to laugh. Boys. Always so dramatic. She much preferred mothering Helaena and you than this. It was almost easy in comparison.

“And you are hers?” She teased.

“I am.” Aemond seemed amused by the reference to wedding vows, lips twitching with the urge to smile. He fought it because Gods forbid he let his mother know he thought her witty.

“Good.” Alicent smiled. “Have you kissed?”

“Mother!” Aemond shook his head, turning red as a tomato.“I am waiting for her to be ready. She flowered so recently…”

“That is very kind.” More kindness than she had been afforded by her husband. Aemond must be smitten.

Alicent decides then she will speak to Viserys about expediting the wedding. And get her father to teach the both of you about marital duties. She does not want to risk the both of you siring a bastard. Not on her watch.

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

Text

I need to... (7)

... Solve this

A Targaryen special

MASTERLIST

Summary: A few weeks with the Targaryens

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Warnings: There are mentions of them being Minors! at some point in their relationship, cursing, cheating, angst, depression, inappropriate relationship student/professor, might miss some warnings. I smoked something, and the holiday in the seven Kingdoms is celebrating the coming of Azhor Ahai, aka the princess that was promised, aka our Dany, who saved the au from eternal winter HAHA take away my computer

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Notes: This was hard, and I can safely say this will be the only chapter like this haha I did not check this, like I said, my brain melted jeje

I never wanted anyone else but my gorgeous girlfriend, ever, with her I had it all. The looks, the brains, the sex, the image. She wanted to go to that frosted wasteland, that was not even ranking in the first three universities, so I convinced her to go in the right direction, it was good of me, not bad, it was what she had to do, to become the best version of herself, the one who was perfect to become the wife of a politician. She was perfect for the imagine of a wholesome family, the one I was going to give to her.

I was Jahaerys, she was my Alyssane

I had her, she was here with me, in Dragonstone, we were set for forever, I put a ring around her finger, a promise ring, I had my mother’s blessing, my father’s too, her godmother was a powerful friend of the family who gave money for my father and his career

So what if I enjoyed a bit of female’s attention? So what if now I realize, that, under the right setting, under the proper social circle, I was the most interesting and sought after man in the entire school?

What if I wanted to test how far I could take it?

Fucking a professor was like a badge of honor amongst guys, at least, that is what Criston Cole told me around campus, that if I managed to pull it off I could be some sort of God, I was just, reaffirming what I already knew

That I belonged at the top of the food chain, in Dragonstone University

And my girlfriend didn’t have to know, she was already here by my side, with my friends, my school, dependent on me…

If you think about it, all men go through it, the younger version, the older one, this is just like that, a rite of passage

Sadly, you did not see things as I did, you didn’t see the bigger picture, the future of us together, having a successful career, after letting out steam in our younger years, I thought you were going to be the Cyresse to me Maegor, there through everything, but no…

Your shortsightedness was very illuminating for me

You did not see things so far into the future, and that was probably my fault for not train you properly for that, for what was expected of me, and now you for being my girlfriend, the picture my parents and even grandfather had painted for me and I was so eager to fulfill. The perfect roll.

My oldest sister was a disappointment, my brother Aegon was a disappointment, Helaena was… barely there

It fell on me

To be the perfect son

And I was gladly going to take that roll

Because I could…

I was going to finish my degree in politics and diplomacy, I was going to marry my powerfull girlfriend, and I was going to give myself to public service and life, following a political career, it was all laid out for me…

But this was just fucking great

As I watch her walking away from me in the dorm’s hallway, I knew something was going to be different

This wasn’t like other times, when we fought… no, it has to be, she needed time to cool off, the anger needed to dissipate, and when she weighs in the pros and cons, like she always did, she was going to achieve the conclusion that suited me, that she had to forgive me, there was too much to loose for her. Nothing had to change, not a single part of my plans

What is a politician's life without a bit of scandal?

Now I have other things to take care off

My steps are sharp and decisive, no matter how fucked up things look like, I have to keep my composure

I know that at this time of day, she must be cleaning her art supplies after her sophomore’s class… And there is exactly where she was, with her back turned to me

“I want a paternity test”, is the first thing I say once I check quickly for undesired ears. She turned around and she looks shocked

“She told you? really? I was hoping to tell you tonight, I… had something planned, I gave her class an entire research about…”

“Before we do anything, I want a paternity test”, I repeat, no, this cannot happen to me,

“I’m only like eight weeks”, she said, her hand on her lower belly

“I will wait”, she frowned, which by now, I have never seen her do, frown lines were not something that she had on her face

“What happened?”, she asked, suddenly angry

“She knows”

“I know that”, she said

“And it never crossed your mind giving me a heads up? she had known for a week!”, I growled

“She pulled her threatricks today in my class, and I found out she knew”, she whined back, “but why does it matter?”, she kept asking, “you are finally free”

“For what?”, I ask, “to be with you?”, she looked like I slapped her, my sharp and disgusted tone gave that effect

“I thought that’s what we were doing”, she said, fixing her hair, trying to keep her composure, “being… together…”

“How do I know I was the only one you were fucking?”, I asked point blank, and she moved her hand quickly, I turn my face as her finger collided with my cheek, the sting came after

“I thought what we had was special”, she whined, tears in her eyes

“That I was going to drop everything for this?”, I asked bitterly

“I can be what you need”, she purred, I chuckled darkly

“like I said, I want a paternity test”

“Is yours!”, she fought

“I need it in writing”, I say back

“Why don’t you believe me!?”, she was losing it

“Because I barely know you, and you said, you were taking care of yourself, and clearly you aren’t”

“No birth control is 100% effective”, she bit

“If the child is mine, the money won’t be a problem”, I said formally

“The money?”, she said back, “what about you?”

“I’m a Targaryen, I cannot be involved in this”, I only muttered, and I left the room

I had finals, I couldn’t be bothered, I had a plan and…

Fuck fuck fuck

The words in front of me, in my book, about the Valyrian republic started playing in my mind, dancing across the page, and suddenly I Was re-reading for the third time the same page because i couldn’t process the words

This is ridiculous

The plain page mocking me, the huge amount of information right then in front of me…

Fuck

Where are those stupid study cards?

Flashcards, I searched for them in my suitcase and once I found them, with your lettering, and colors for me to learn by chapter, one color a different chapter…

But these were old, for the midterms, not for the finals…

FUCK

How hard could it be?, I started rereading, and summarizing, and after four hours and the librarian kicking me out of the library, I had nothing

A day wasted

How the fuck did I became so codependant in a studybody? even if that studybody was you?

The final was tomorrow, and I barely scraped two chapters of the four

This was going to be a long night

Not even Cole could pull me off of this

The next day, after I barely slept I barely kept myself awake to give the damn test

I was obviously going to pass, but… I was not so sure about the excellency grade on this one

I’m so fucking pissed.

How could you abandon me at a time like this?

So selfish and short sighted

I slip one time, once! and this is how you are supposed to support me? be by my side?

Two days had passed and no news from her, anything, she had left her ring on my nightstand front he last time we fucked, and she won’t even text me to get it back, and that was worrying…

So, deciding I should be the bigger person and apologize so we can leave all of this nightmare behind us, I went to look for her…

Alys’ baby wasn’t mine, I knew so, I heard about this sort of thing all the time, I was not going to fall on this, she was trying to babytrap me, and I was not going to let that happen.

And you? you were punishing me, it's alright, I can take it, soon you will be back in my arms, and our lives together were going to be back on track

This was just a slump on the road, and you both should be thankful that happened so early on, so you could control it, and make it disappear in the rearview mirror

And that is why, when I knocked on your dorm room, I found it strange that your name had been erased from the small white board on the door, and then Maris opened, and when she saw me, her eyes lit up, and her mouth shaped to a sick grin

“Aemond”, she greeted

“Maris”, I said shortly, “is (y/n) here?”, and her smile only got wider

“She told you the other day! she left”

“What?”, I asked

“Yes, she left!”, she opened the door and took a step away for me to look into the room, and her entire side was empty, completely gone, she, was gone, even her bed, Maris had already invaded your side

“Where is she?”, i ask, feeling all blood leaving my face

“A nice, older lady came one day and helped her put everything in boxes, and in a couple of hours…”

“Fuck!”, I slammed the door no my way out and I cursed the day that nosey Cerenna decided to finally meddle in your life

She was a poor influence on you, she has always had been

I grab my phone and dialed your number, number five on speed dial

It didn’t even ring.. did you?

I looked up the texting app and…

No photo

I send a text…

And… no double tick

No… no, no, no, no

Instagram?

Couldn’t find you

No, you were just punishing me, you were going to come back, you always did

Maybe you got scared, and Cerenna came and picked you up, but you were not leaving, not permanently, you were coming back

You were

So I wrote the first email

But it rebounded

Even email, uh?

So I created a new email address, and I wrote the first one

No big deal

I had other finals to get to

And giving you time to cool down was the best idea.

So I did my best

The amnio test I had to make Alys take was in about one more month, according to her… so nothing I could do until then, until after Winter Break

I just had to keep it together, nothing had a turning point, I still didn’t hit the point of no return, I knew it

Fuck Fuck

The semester was over, and I didn’t even want to join the celebrations of my classmates, or with Cole, who knew the dirty details of the lowest parts of Dragonstone, the whole city

But I didn’t have it in me

In fact, every desire I still held to celebrate the successful first semester of university was killed when I received word from my father, that we were all supposed to spend holidays together in King’s Landing… and all of us ment

Fucking Rhaenyra and all her family

The liberals, the underdogs, the pariahs

It was going to be interesting

As soon as I arrived, the questioned was asked

“Where is she?”

As always you were expected to spend the holidays with us, and now, not even I had an answer for your whereabouts

“She is spending it with Cerenna”

“But they live in King’s Landing dear, didn’t you invite them? I’ll have to call them”, muttered my mother.

I looked at her intensely as she dialed the number, but it rang and rang, and nothing

No one answered

“That is strange”

“Cerenna mentioned she wanted to take her to a small vacation, you know they both aren’t as festive”

“But dear, is the week before the elections!”, she said urgently

“I know”

It was expected of me to take you back into the fold

So I did as the men before had done, before cell phones existed

I went to your house

But it was empty, and no, I’m running errands empty

Empty empty as we will not be coming back anytime soon

We all lived in the same neighborhood, at the top of Rhaenys’ hill, a very exclusive palace

And then when I first started to think, you were not going to be so forgiving

At least, not as easy

If you had been with another man, I would have been difficult to forgive you, I would have make you work hard for my forgiveness, it was alright, I was going to put up the work

When I came back to my father’s house, I came face to face with Jacaerys

“Jace”, I greet shortly

“Uncle”

“How is that frozen wasteland?”, I asked

“How is that sticking up your ass they put you in Dragonstone?”

“Feels great”, i mutter

“So as freezing my ass off”, he answered

That little shit, that because he had other beliefs and wants to fight for survival in his university he believes he is better than me

Tonight the festival in the commemorations of Azor Ahai, the princess that was promised was commencing and it was going to be a whole week long, it was indeed going to be a long weekend, celebrating the coming of our savior, who saved us from eternal winter.

As my mother was performing her prayers, a phone dinged you opened your eyes to look at Jace, who took only one look at his screen and his face lit up, and then looked straight at me, with a mocking grin on his face

He had asked about you

I told him you were taking the holidays to be with your godmother

But something in his smiled and his mocking eyes

That little shit knew something

“Where is (y/n)?”, he asked out loud, I growled

“I told you, she is in vacations with Cerenna”

“I don’t think she is”

“This is hardly appropriate”, mocked Alicent

“But concerning”, said Daemon, who presence here I still don’t understand, “elections are next week, and the Lannisters are not in town”

“How do you know?”, I ask

“Oh I know”, he mocked, Laena, hsi wife, smiled shyly, mockingly

Where they all in on it

“What does it mean?”, asked Viserys, recently catching up

“It means that neither Aemond’s girlfriend, nor her billionaire sympathizer godmother, nor her family of billionaires and politics financiers are here for election week, and i’m guessing, the reason for their absence has something to do with the fact that your son, has no fucking idea of where her girlfriend is”

“Meaning?”, he asked again

“Iluminate us Aemondd, where is your girlfriend?”

“On travels”, I said

“On holidays? on election week?”, asked Daemon

“Yes”

“Aemond..”, whispered Alicent, “what did you do?”

“Nothing”, I growled

“You did something”, muttered Jace

“You know where she is”, i say angrily

“I know where she is going to be”, he mocked

“What does that mean?”, asked Alicent. I couldn’t take it anymore

You left Dragonstone, you canceled your enrollment, you finished your tuition. You told me you were going North and I didn’t want to believe it

“She left Dragonstone”, i say, “she met a guy from Winterfell University, and she left me, and Dragonstone”

“What?”

Rhaenyra had been oddly quiet, only looking at everyone, but now, she couldn’t hide her triumphant smirk in her cup of whine

“She left you?”, asked Alicent, horrified, “how could she do that?”

“The better question would be, what did you do baby brother?”, teased Aegon

“She left me”, i defended

“She wouldn’t do that without reason”, muttered Helaena, that, didn’t even seemed she was paying attention to the conversation

“What did you do Grandson?”, asked Otto HIghtower

“I told you, she left me”

“And she managed to convince the Lannisters to go with her? I don’t believe that!”, he said, raising his voice, Daemon laughed, drinking wine

What a great fucking dinner

“I’m sure there is an explanation for this!”, said Alicent

“She left with a guy named Ben”, I defended

“You know what? it doesn’t surprise me, she always looked like a problematic, wanton little tart”, the sound of a cup breaking in millions of tiny pieces made everyone fell quiet as Rhaenyra had crushed the damn thing with her bare hand

“Don’t you dare speak about her like that”, she growled. My mother only chuckled darkly, “she is the daughter of one of my best friends, and my son’s youth companion”

“Takes one to know one”, and that is when Jacaerys stood up

“If she left Dragonstone to follow her dreams clearly Aemond pushed her to do it, I know for sure the Lannisters wouldn’t get involved in all of this if the matter wasn’t serious”

“Jace”, called Viserys

“Call Tyland and ask him why he is not here”, hee demanded, “call him grandfather”

Viserys picked up the phone, and called his political ally, it ranged twice, and then it sounded like Tyland had hang up on him

“What did you do to my friend?:, asked Jace

“You haven’t spoken in years!”, I defended, “what do you know?”

“Enough!”, called Alicent, “we are in holidays”

The appetites were pretty much sated after that

I tried to speak to Jacaerys in the days that followed, but he wouldn’t tell me anything

Than the primaries came, and the Lannisters were a no show

And my father lost the primaries

Fuck

FUCK

And when I thought things couldn’t be any better

I was summoned into my father’s office, and when I entered, my parents, and my grandfather Otto were there

“What’s the matter?”, I ask

“Aemond, why did I receive an email about a Professor called Alys Rivers, saying she is expecting your child?”

FUCK FUCK FUCK

My phone ranged in my pocket, a text from Alys, a picture, a picture of us, fucking, a Terminantion letter..

All, in one day

“So now we know why we lost all the founding and costs us the elections!”, growled my Grandfather

It was the most humiliating afternoon of my life

Alys fired

A picture circulating Dragonstone University

Alys taking me down with her

an email from the Dean asking me to meet her as soon as the vacations are over

And you? never to be seen

Alys claims you took and send the picture around

You had received all my angry emails, at least they didn’t bounce, but still, no answer

Daemon, and now Jace knew where you were and yet, they wouldn’t tell me

My mother lost a chunk of her hair in the reunion where they were berating me. Viserys stood awfully quiet, looking at the table in front of him, clearly calculating how much this was going to cost him.

And Otto was calling lawyers to prepare for the meeting with the Dean

The freedom I had, the reliance I enjoyed from my family, the trust they had in me, the respect, everything was destroyed.

Now, I was no better than my brother who tried to study multiple careers and couldn’t finish one, the one who had multiple ladies and scandals with sex workers, I was no better than him, my mistake had been more permanent, more public, and that, in the world of politics, was unforgivable

And yet

I needed to find you

It wasn’t even later, after I had my grandfather threaten the Dean with letting me continue my studies or else, even after the time was up and I told Alys to take the test

She tried to tell me she had already taken it, that she had found a lock of my hair…

But I made her repeat it, so I went to the doctor with her.

And while I waited for the results, I started to think, to meditate

Maybe I could turn this around

Maybe, if the kid was mine, I could get married. Alys was exquisite, in looks at least, she was enticing, had something about her, I could train her, to dance to the politics’ song.

You could do it, make all of this worth it. The Lannisters were back, clearly just wanted to give us a scare, they will never support the Liberals, they were just taking a warning shot, perhaps…

Perhaps this could work

My father had a team, a PR team dedicated to this sort of thing, to spin things to make them look great, to gain advantage from the worst of points

Yes, if the baby was mine, I could spin this around.

And then the results came

NEGATIVE

What a surprise… a gold digger tried to baby trapped me and she didn’t even do it right

She accused me to my mother of fathering a lie…

And now…

FUCK!

If you had never found out, if Alys haven't told my mother

But you did, she did, you blew up everything, she also, and now… I had nothing…

As I stared at the results on that paper

“I never want to see you again”, I say to the woman in front of me

“The test was wrong!!”, she cried

“You tried to baby trapped me, you accused me to my mother”, I growled

“You have to understand”

“If I see you again I’m going to make sure you never get another job teaching”, I threatened, and in tears, she left the apartment I had rented

My respect from my family was gone

My flawless record in my elite university was gone

My reputation was tainted

You were gone

Since the second I lost you, I continued to lose everything else…

No…

If I win you back, if I take you back, I bring you back to me, all the problems were going to be solved

So I put all my contacts to work, but I didn't have to look too far…

Jacaerys was happy to share pictures in a pagan party, and you were on them

Winterfell Fucking University

And who was that fucking guy looking at you in all the pictures that look like a wolf pup?

lIke I say, my brain melted... I dind't even corrected this, is just rambling, but an insight of what happened when Aemond's life imploded!

taglist!

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys

#misguidedneed #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #house targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond

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aphroditelovesu · 2 years ago

Note

what would everyone's reaction (targaryen, hightower and velaryon) be if the reader were autistic like helaena?

❝🐉— lady l: i don't know anyone who has autism, so I'm not sure what I wrote, since I researched some characteristics of autistics on the internet. But I don't wish to offend anyone, the use of words ''special, different and condition'' are just ways of saying autism without using the word itself, without any pejorative form. If something is wrong feel free to let me know.

tw: mention of autism and possible murder. As the story takes place in a medieval environment, the word ''autism'' did not exist, so I will refer to it as a condition, aiming that autism is NOT a disease.

❝word count: +1,6k

❝Yandere!House's Targaryen, Velaryon and Hightower Reaction: If the Reader is autistic:

Viserys I Targaryen

Viserys would be even clingier with the reader than he already is. He is not very close (or not close at all) to his daughter Helaena, everyone knows how attached he is to Rhaenyra, but little is said about how obsessed and clingy the King is with you, even more than his firstborn daughter. Your condition made you fragile in his eyes, more than he ever considered you. Viserys is very protective of you and there's nothing he wouldn't do for you, his beloved child, and even if you're as special as Helaena, it wouldn't make him love you any less, quite the contrary, it would strengthen your bond, for he would never let you out of his sight for fear you would get hurt. And gods forbid anyone say anything bad about you, for Viserys will have their tongue.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra is the only one who sees benefit in your condition. Knowing how possessive she is of you, knowing that you are uncomfortable in crowded or noisy places, preferring the quiet of your room, would make everything even more convenient for her possessiveness. Don't get her wrong, she knows that the thoughts that come to her mind the moment she lays eyes on you are not normal, even more so because you are different from others, but she knows that if you are treated differently or special can just annoy you. So, she's normal with you, clinging to her beloved sister/brother and being possessive of you in just the right measure, but still, everyone notices how soft she is with you and will rarely touch you if she notices you're uncomfortable.

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is, surprisingly, the most compassionate of them all. He knows that you are different, that you are misunderstood by others and he identifies with that, of course, excluding the fact that you have a condition that he does not have. He's one of the only ones who treats you the same way he does everyone else, sure, he's more affectionate and kinder to you anyway, but he'll never act any different around you. You are special, not just because of your condition, but because you are, well, you. For Daemon, he doesn't care about any of that but your happiness and safety. He will still remain protective and possessive of you, but in a way, he will be more tolerant and patient than he ever was. Like Viserys, The Rogue Prince will get rid of anyone who says a word about your condition.

Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys would never, under any circumstances, be indifferent or distant from you. Everyone knows how obsessive and protective Jace is of you, this is something that has stuck with him over the years and will never fade no matter how much time passes. You are of utmost importance to the prince and he doesn't care if you are different from the rest of his family, you are still you and he will continue to love you the same way he always did, you know, the Targaryen and yandere way. Jace will remain the same as ever, loving and devoted to his obsession with you. But in this particular case, he will be even more defensive and clingy towards you, he will show his cruel side to anyone who crosses him, who crosses you. No one will harm you while he's alive.

Lucerys Velaryon

Lucerys doesn't quite understand what you have, why you are so calm and often act strangely when someone touches you or at loud noises, but whenever he sees the panic in your eyes, he will rush to your side and get you out of that situation, murmuring words of comfort to you. Luke can act reckless when it comes to his obsession with you and he probably will, but this boy will cling to you in every way. He is possessive and doesn't want your attention to be anywhere else but on him. You are special to him and he will not let your attention and love be stolen from him.

Baela and Rhaena Targaryen

The twins are glued to you from the moment they set eyes on you, often getting into unnecessary fights for your attention, but in the end, what really matters is that you are there for them and they will be there for you. No matter what happens. Baela is more graceful than her sister, she is the first to notice her behavior seen from the fact how she almost always wants to grab you for dance lessons, fitting your arms together. As soon as she realized how disturbed you were by her touch, she released you and went to tell her sister about it. Rhaena will be more subtle than her sister, but they are possessive and won't take much pleasure in being taken away from you.

Corlys Velaryon

Corlys will worry about you, questioning what's wrong with you, but don't be offended, not in a bad or accusatory way, but worried. He will respect your space and keep you out of noisy places, when he sees that you hate either of these things (or both) and will make a point of accompanying you if you want. He is very protective of his beloved child and will do everything in his power to ensure your comfort. You may be different from the rest of the family, but that doesn't matter to him or any of the Velaryons, you are loved and always will be.

Rhaenys Targaryen

Rhaenys was probably the first to notice her condition, due to her spending a lot of time with her. At first, she would be worried about you, but when she sees that this poses no risk to you, she will breathe a sigh of relief. The way you act or talk will never bother her, in fact, she might even find it endearing about you. One of her charms, she will tell you. She makes you special, making it clear how unique you are. She is loving and motherly, taking care of you with all the care in the world.

Laena Velaryon

Laena is the closest to you out of the Velaryon's, she's the only one who can really get close to you. Really get closer to you. She is no different in the way she acts around you, she considers you to be her little sister/brother which automatically means she should have your back. Any mean comments made about you will lead her to protect you and make sure the wrongdoer is taken care of immediately. You can always count on Laena.

Laenor Velaryon

If you think Laena is protective, that's because you don't know Laenor. He loves you, simple as that, the way you are. He doesn't care about your way of being, in fact, he even likes it, it makes you even more unique. He will always look after and protect you, he is your big brother after all it is his duty. He won't mind killing anyone who dares to disrespect you. To make sure you're okay, it's quite possible he'll follow you around, just in case.

Otto Hightower

Otto is very close to Helaena, at least more than the other grandchildren he has, but he is even closer to you. He feels closer to you and more connected than he does with the rest of the Hightowers, even his own daughter. You're perfect in his eyes, there's nothing wrong with you, and anyone who says otherwise will bitterly regret it. He will always support you and act natural around you, allowing himself to be vulnerable.

Alicent Hightower

Alicent is already more familiar with your unusual behavior than the others, having Helaena as her daughter. She is especially attached to you, she is always finding excuses to be in your company. She acts delicate and caring around you, being as loving as possible and trying to support you. Alicent loves you very much and nothing you do, or the way you are, will stop her from loving and caring for you the way she should.

Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon is a big hypocrite, basically. While he says his sister is weird, he's totally different with you, complimenting you and saying how perfect and special you are. He doesn't care about many things but he cares about you and he will try nothing more than to please you, he wants it, he needs it. Just like the rest, he will kill anyone who says anything about you. You are perfect in his eyes and end of the history.

Helaena Targaryen

Helaena is the only one who doesn't have any kind of hidden interest in you from her family, she is what she is and knowing that you are like her makes her feel even closer to you. She is too kind for her own good and she will be for you, she doesn't usually show it, but she will do it to protect you if she sees that something bothers you or makes you upset. She will love talking to you about her bugs and will always take care of you.

Aemond Targaryen

Unlike his brother, Aemond was never bothered by Helaena's behavior and was always affectionate with her and he will be the same for you, only in a more protective and possessive way than he once was. Aemond will be more possessive of you, he fears someone will try to hurt you or take you away from him and he won't have that. He loves taking care of you, guarding you and he will always bring you something to make you happy, be it bugs like Helaena or flowers, whatever it is, he will do anything to see you happy. You are special to him and he will do anything to show you that.

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myladysapphire · 2 years ago

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His sapphire princess (II)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 1,379

CW: mummy issues, incest, childish teasing, bullying

Fem!oc x Aemond Targaryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire charecters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all charecters are his except for my OC

Visenya

"Mother told me something!" she exclaimed walking up to Aemond.

"What?" he asked, slightly irritated. They were in the dragon pits for one of their lessons. Aemond hated attending, but his father was always insistent on him attending, according to Aemond that was the only time his father ever took an interest in his life.

"Well, there's a small council meeting today" she spoke

"And?" he interrupted,

She rolled her eyes, whacking his shoulder "let me finish...she wishes to reunite the family, by- " she hesitated, unsure of how Aemond may react.

"by?" he questioned, leaning into her and the dragon keeper spoke to Jacaerys about Vermax.

"she is going to offer you a dragon egg from Syrax's new clutch- my idea!" she rushed out "and, by proposing a marriage" the last part was whispered, nervous looking to the floor.

"Between whom?" he questioned, curiosity in his tone.

"Me and you" she whispered.

Aemond didn't reply, he is straightening, standing tall. Unsure of how to react, before forcing out "and how do you feel about it?" he said, slowly, moving to lightly brush his hands with hers.

"well-" she cleared her throat, moving up to look at him "that was also my idea." She said, eyes not looking into his.

"Really?" he said lowly, unsure "you? an-and me?"

"Yes, she wanted to betroth Jace and Heleana, but I suggested us instead. We are already the best of friends and i-" she stopped herself. She had had a crush on Aemonds for a few moons now, ever since his eleventh name day. She had always thought him handsome, but lately, she had begun seeing him as more than her friend. So when her mother proposed her brother and aunts' betrothal she interrupted, suggesting she and Aemond instead. They were closest in age, other than Daeron who was still in Oldtown, and already got on well. And she couldn't remember a time Helaena and Jace had ever interacted, outside of family dinners. Other than when Jace barraged into her room when Helena was there, and even then it was a simple greeting.

"You did?" he asked again.

"Are you mad?" she asked cautiously.

"I'm happy you did, I wouldn't want to marry anyone but you," he said, grabbing her hand properly before moving his attention back to the dragon lesson.

"Aemond, we have a surprise for you," Aegon remarked after the lesson was done. They were about to head back to the keep when Aegon ran up to them, shoving himself between the pair.

Luke had run off somewhere with Jace, leaving just Aegon, herself and Aemond.

Aegon pulled her away from Aemond, his arm wrapping around her waist, and his other around Aemonds shoulder.

"What is it?" Aemond questioned, as Aegon redirected them back into the dragon pit.

"Something very special," he said, looking at Aemond before winking at her.

"you're the only one of us without a dragon". Aegon stated, his arm beginning to rub her waist, pulling her tight to him. As if to prevent her from moving away, a common act he did with her, he was always wanting to steal her away from Aemond the second he was in her vicinity.

"Indeed"

"And we felt bad about it, so we found one for you" Aegon spoke.

"What, how?" she and Aemond spoke at the same time. Her tone, accusing. Doubtful. How they had found a wild dragon in the dragon pits beyond her. Aemonds however was curious and hopeful. She knew how desperate he was. she thought he would have been content with the dragon pick she had spent hours picking out for him. But she supposed an unhatched egg was nothing in comparison to a real dragon. If there was one anyway.

"The gods Provided," Aegon said, winking at her, once again, as if she was in on the joke.

Luke and Jace ran in, holding a rope.

A rope, not with a dragon attached but a pig. A pig with wings attached to it.

Aemond's face dropped.

"Behold, the pink dread" the boys shouted laughing at Aemond's confusion and misery.

"Be sure to mount her carefully, the first flights are always rough" Aegon mused.

Aemond ran off, moving deeper into the pit for a real dragon. She went to follow him, but Aegon's tight grip on her waist prevented it.

"let me go!" she struggled out of Aegon's grip "why would you do that?" she questioned.

Aegon's face fell "it was just a joke!" he insisted.

"not for Aemond it isn't!" she shook her head and looked at the three boys "how would you like it if everyone around you had something that you didn't. something that was just out of your reach, and everyone taunted you for it!" she insisted, her eyes holding so much anger, that Luke and Jace flinched. Aegon moved to grab her hand, but he stepped back and scowled at the boys.

"he's your brother!" she looked at Aegon.

"Yeah well, he's a twat" he insisted.

"Gods Aegon!" she rolled her eyes, "have you forgotten that up until six years ago you too were without a dragon! you had to claim Sunfyre, your egg didn't hatch and yet no one taunted you for it!" she shouted.

She shook her head, at the boy's lack of remorse and Aegon's lack of response.

She turned to leave, quick on her feet. Aegon ran up to catch up with her. "wait!" he begged. "Senya, I'm sorry"

"Are you?" she turned and stopped walking, causing Aegon to come to a quick stop.

"Yes, I hadn't realised how to hurt it could make you feel," he said, slowly, waiting for her reaction.

"it isn't my feelings you hurt, it was Aemonds, your brother!" she went to leave again.

"I'm sorry ok, take it or leave it" his words meant one thing, but his eyes said another. His eyes were sad almost begging for her forgiveness.

"I'm disappointed in you all," she said before leaving, not turning to the boys' shouts for her to come back.

"Aemond" she spoke, she had been looking for him for hours. "Are you all right?" she asked softly, moving forward. he was covered in dirt and soot.

He didn't respond, his head was bowed. Hiding his face from her. "You did it again." She signed, moving closer to wrap her arms around him.

He buried his head in her shoulder, he had never been good with words, finding it hard to express his emotions. But with her he was willing to express them through actions, "you will have a dragon one day, I know it" she whispered, "I promise" it wasn't something she could promise, but she knew Aemond, and he would stop at nothing to get his dragon.

------

A moon had passed since her brother, Joffrey's birth. And whispers were once again filling the corridors. It was no secret, only denial that fuelled them that she was the only one safe from them. Seen as legitimate, despite her pale complexion. But the fact was that all of her mother's children were bastards. Her brothers were more obvious, perhaps if they shared her Valyrian features they would escape the rumours, just as she does. And now with the birth of Joffrey, whose eyes and hair darken each day, the rumours flow freely. Prompted by the queen. Her mother was growing nervous, as he passed past more talks of returning to Dragonstone occupied the dinner table. And with the recent banishment of Ser Harwin strong from the court, they would be forced to say goodbye to the red keep.

Jace had discovered the truth, but Luke was still clueless, and she hoped to keep it that way. She saw the sadness in her eyes when he told her. She understood. But unlike, Jace she didn't have a mother to comfort her when she found out. Simply a mother that stated it as fact 'she's not yours Laenor, you should not care for her as if she is', she had overheard it and all her mother spoke upon her confrontation was 'I loved your father but I regret it every day'. With Jace he got a hug and comforting words, saying he was a Targaryen and that was all that mattered. Hers resulted in yelling and a wall placed between them. They loved each other. That was true. but her mother was always hesitant about it. Always quick to speak to her as if she were the man who abandoned her all those years ago. And for that, she would always envy her brothers. Their father was there to love them, their to hold them and as a result their mother never held regret for having them. But she did for her.

Her mother had loved both of her children's fathers, yet the resentment she held over her daughters, the underlying feeling of betrayal only carried over to her, despite her mothers longing for a daughter rather than sons.

And now things would be made worse, they would be leaving for Dragonstone. She would be forced to leave her Aemond. Their relationship would now only exist through letters. A betrothal had been discussed, but not confirmed. And she knew her mother had plans to ward her in Winterfell in the coming year.

She would miss the Red keep, not the vipers of court, but her family. Unlike her mother and brothers, she did not long to distance herself from them. She got along well enough with her uncles and aunt. Though Heleana was often in a mind of her own, and Daeron was warded in oldtown. She liked to think of them as her friends. and Alicent had always been kind to her, giving her some sense of maternal love, which she sometimes found lacking from her own mother.

They were at the docks, her mother still recovering from birth, and would travel by ship with Joffrey and Luke. As she, Jace and Laenor flew.

It would be a quick journey, but a journey she would hate in its entirety.

She did not know when she would return when she would see Aemond, Helaena, and even Aegon, again. And she would miss them all, and pray (even to the seven if she must) that she would see them again soon.

If only she knew the sorrow that followed their departure, and would allow them to meet once again.

Next part

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sunfyredefender77 · 4 months ago

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she’s rethinking her whole life

#aemond just leave her alone #queen helaena targaryen #helaena targaryen #poor helaena #helaena the dreamer #helaena targaryen you will always be so special to me #house of the dragon #house of the dragon 2 #house of the dragon season 2 #houseofthedragon #team helaena #team green #pro helaena targaryen #asoiaf #my queen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen

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fairysluna · 2 years ago

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NOT THE BEST IDEA — Modern!AU | Part 2

MASTERLIST | Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: The secret is out, and now you have to learn how to heal your broken heart and how to move on, and soon a cute new guy would help you realize how much you were missing in life.

Tags/TW: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, therapy sessions (bc she needs it so bad), helaena being the best friend we all deserve, brief smut(?, mentions of violence, murder and blood, aemond still is an ass but now he's also obsessed.

Author's Note: I got a little carried away with Cregan’s storyline at the beginning, but here it is!! Hopefully this will meet all of your expectations, your ideas were super helpful so thank you all of you, hope this is worthy of them!!

Word Count: 6.0k

Tag List: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @mysticgothicgirl @aemondswifeisme @issshhh

Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!!

You entered the room. You started to pace back and forth around it as the nerves were eating you alive. Your hands were shaky, and the tears soon came back to your eyes; the guilt, the rage and the pain in your chest was making this whole situation too overwhelming. You could feel the panic running through your veins as your beloved friend turned around to see you.

She looked serious, but not mad. Yet, the panic that you felt in the moment, along with the fear of losing her friendship over what had happened, had you seeing her serious semblance as something terrible.

"I'm so sorry, Helaena..." You cried, keeping the distance between you both, too scared of getting closer to her and being pushed away, "I ruined your cake, I ruined your birthday, I- I don't even know what to say, I'm a terrible friend, this is your special day and I ruined it..."

Your words were stumbling against each other, your mind going miles per hour as you could only sense the fear of losing Helaena forever.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m horrible, I’m sorry… I never meant to ruin everything.”

The girl walked towards you and hugged you tightly. This action had taken you aback and it took you a few seconds to react. You wrapped your arms around her waist and buried your face on the crock of her neck, leaving her skin soaking with your tears.

"Nonsense..." She spoke softly, as she held you close, "Y/n, you didn't ruin anything, we can get another cake, mum can go and pick one from the bakery, it’s okay…”

“I’m so sorry…” You repeated.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” she reassured you, “But, y/n…” she pulled back, only to look at your face, “you need to tell me what is going on, this is so weird, I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Your eyes closed as you felt embarrassment. You looked like a psycho back there, and you cannot even think what Helaena was thinking about you right now.

“You promise you won’t be mad at me?” You asked, your voice shaky and unsteady. Helaena nodded and you took a deep breath.

You explained everything to her. How Aemond and you started to play around until eventually you were fool enough to fall in love with him, you told her how he gave you your first kiss and then offer you a relationship with the condition that should be secret, you told her that you were with him for almost a year before he decided to throw everything to the trash by a stupid letter.

And of course, you told her how he forbade you to speak about this with anyone.

“Oh, Gods…” Helaena said once you stopped explaining everything, “You had to go through all this by yourself? That’s why you were locked in your house most of the summer?”

“I couldn’t bear to see him,” you confessed, “I loved him so much… Perhaps I still do.”

“And he brought his girlfriend now… showing her around as if he is bragging about it. What an idiot!”

“I don’t want you to change the way you look at him, I know how close you both are.” you said softly, “my relationship with Aemond is now from the past.”

“How am I supposed to see him in the face now that I know how much he made you suffer? He’s the kind of guy we scream at while watching rom-coms, y/n. The type of guy we hate.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s not,” she shook her head, grabbing your hands, “you said it yourself, you still love him, it’s not okay.”

“I must be okay, Helaena,” you quickly said, “he has a girlfriend, he moved on and I must do the same thing. I can’t keep crying for him when he doesn’t even care about me.”

Helaena pressed her lips and sighed, “if it makes you feel better, she is old and you're prettier. She is his Philosophy teacher.”

Your jaw almost fell to the floor, “Shut up, she’s not.”

“She is.” she nodded, “he was his assistant and then… they fucked.”

“Oh Gods…” you let out a breathy laugh and you covered your lips with your hand.

“I always thought Aegon would be the one doing this kind of stuff.” Helaena said between chuckles, “You should’ve seen mum’s reaction when she found out, it was hilarious.”

You laughed. The tears were already drying on your cheeks when Helaena pulled you in for another tight and comforting hug.

“You know I’m always going to be here for you, right?”

You nodded, “of course I do,” you said in a soft whisper. “I think it is best if I don’t come to your house while Aemond is here.”

“That’s fine…” she replied.

“I thought about killing him, actually,” you confessed.

Helaena pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a worried face, “Oh, babe…” she cleared her throat, “do you have plans this friday?”

“No, why?”

“You need a therapist.”

Two weeks later, you were seated in the waiting room of your therapist office, waiting for your second session. Helaena made you company the first time, but now she was out of the city with the rest of her family, so you were on your own now. You were sitting as you were looking at the Weather Report on the TV that was hanging on the wall. Your shoes were on top of the chair as you hugged your folded legs and placed your chin between your knees. You were completely bored without the company of your beloved friend.

That day, you arrived a little early. You had at least fifteen minutes to wait before it was your turn. You were trying to distract your mind, counting random things like the tiles on the floor, or the chairs in the room. You did not even notice the guy that walked towards you until he stood up in front of you.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked up at this guy. Then you looked around the room. Literally every single chair was empty; it was seven o’ clock on a Friday, there was no one there but you, the guy in front of you and the old secretary behind the desk.

"Uhm... I think all the seats are empty actually.”

That made him chuckle, and he showed you his charming smile. He is cute, you thought.

“I saw you last week with a blonde girl, I thought she might have come with you today, too.” You frowned a little, has he seen you before? Was he watching you this whole time? Is he a creep? He soon widened his brown eyes, as if he had just realized how bad his words sounded, “Oh, Gods, don’t think I’m some kind of psychopath, I- I just saw you the other day and- I’ve never seen you before… I usually sit in that corner and the other day I saw you, and- Oh, fuck, did I just made a fool out of myself?”

You laughed. It was subtle but you did. He also chuckled, a bit nervous. You've seen him before, he would usually be with another brown haired boy that Helaena once thought was cute. Perhaps he wasn't a psycho, perhaps he just wanted to be your friend.

"It’s okay." You said, a breathy laugh left your lips, "you can sit." you tilted your head, and he soon sat on your side.

He cleared his throat and stayed silent for a couple minutes. You did not say anything either. You were both unsure of what to say or do now. You saw him from your peripheral view and realized he was glancing slightly at you, as if he was trying to say something but the words would not come out of his mouth. Something came over you and soon you were the one breaking the silence.

"I'm y/n." you stretched your hand for him to take.

He took it, slightly smiling and relieved, "I'm Cregan."

"Are you waiting for your session too?" You asked, trying to create a conversation.

"Umh, no,” he shook his head, “I've come to comfort my friend. He's going through some hard stuff.”

“How bad?”

He sighed, “he found out his father is not his actual father,” he explained, and your mouth opened with surprise.

“Oh, shit…” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “what about you?”

You pressed your lips in a thin line as you really considered lying to him, creating a super dramatic story seemed tempting, but you could not bring yourself to lie to him. Not when he was looking down at you with those sweet, kind eyes.

“My ex ruined my psyche,” you simply said.

“Oh.”

“But I'm doing therapy now so I guess I'm healing my trauma, right?” You tried to joke, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Right.” He chuckled, “How long have you been single?”

“Eight months,” you then smirked. “Why? Are you going to ask me on a date?”

Cregan grinned after hearing your teasing, “do you want me to ask you for a date?”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Perhaps…”

You chuckled, "well, I'm going to answer you once I come out of my session."

"Then I guess I'll wait."

"Oh, you would wait for me?” You spoke with a dramatic tone that made him smile widely, “that's so romantic…”

"I would wait for you forever,” he replied, matching your tone almost immediately.

You felt something in your gut that you instantly recognized. Your smile flickered as you realized what was happening, and you immediately regret it. You were not in conditions to jump into another relationship right now, not after everything you have been through and you knew that very well.

But Gods, he was so damn charming.

You were not able to exchange more words as one of the doors was opened and a thin brown haired guy walked out it. He looked at Cregan with a raised eyebrow before looking at you and smirked playfully to his friend. However, he just moved his head in order to tell Cregan it was time to go.

He stood up and turned to see you one last time.

"I guess I'll have my answer next week," he inferred, "same hour?"

You thought about it. You really did. Perhaps this was your chance to finally be happy with a nice and decent guy, and you were pushing back out of fear. Your heart spoke first, and then your mind wanted to slap you.

"Same hour." you nodded.

He gave you one of those bewitching smiles as he left and you stood there. Feeling so stupid for making this rush decision that would probably bring you big consequences in your future. But you could not help yourself, and at least now you have a week to think about your answer.

You were debating yourself during the whole session, and your therapists immediately noticed that something odd was going on in your messy head. You told her, of course, thinking that she might give you the green light that you were waiting for. You were expecting a positive reaction from her, saying that dating other guys might help you move on… but you knew that was far from reality once you saw her face turning serious and stern.

"Listen to me carefully, y/n,” she spoke demandingly, as if she was giving you a command rather than an advice. “No. dating. until. you. have. healed,” she said slowly, carefully pronouncing each word so there will be no space for misunderstandings, “you are in a delicate place emotionally right now, which leaves you vulnerable and weak towards new feelings and experiences. You might be right; this guy might be your knight in shiny armor, your savior, your future husband… but we cannot risk it.” She leaned over her chair, getting closer to you, “you have to be patient and wait until you have healed from what you went through, understood?”

You silently nodded, thinking about Cregan and his goddamn smile. Now you had no other choice but to reject him, and the mere thought almost made you shake out of nervousness and anxiety. Your overthinking mind did not help at all.

As soon as you walked out of the office, while you were waiting for the bus, you called Helaena and told her everything. And of course, she said she was going to be there for you when the time to reject him would arrive. Perhaps dating this new guy is not the best idea.

A week later, you entered the waiting room with Helaena hanging from your arm. You looked around trying to find Cregan, but he was nowhere to be seen. You felt some kind of relief after you thought he probably left and now you will not go through the anxiety that this situation would bring to you. But you were never that lucky.

The bathroom door opened and Cregan walked out of it, looking as enchanting as the last time you saw him. He had a growing beard now, which made him look even more handsome than he already was.

"That's him." you said to Helaena, she immediately looked at him in a discreet way and she gasped,

"Oh, he's cute..." she whispered before looking your way, "you can do this okay? just explain all the things your therapist said and you will be fine, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would get angry if he's rejected."

"Your brother didn't seem like a douche bag and look where I am now."

Helaena pressed her lips, "just relax, it'll be fine, you'll see."

Cregan noticed your presence almost immediately –again no one was there besides you three–, and he walked your way with a gentle grin on his face. Helaena saw him coming and she went to sit, pulling out a book from her tote bag. You felt your hands shake.

"I was waiting for you,” he confessed once he was close enough for you to hear.

"You were?" You asked, your voice coming out a bit lower than you expected.

"I’m afraid you owe me an answer.”

You smiled kindly at him, but your eyes showed him the struggle inside your mind. He knew it almost instantly, and you could see the disappointment on his face. You sighed deeply before starting to speak,

“Look, this will sound as a pathetic excuse, but trust me; it is not.” You put a rebel hair strand behind your ear before you keep going. Your hands shook as you were slightly scared of what his reaction might be. “My therapist kinda forbade me from being in a relationship, or even going out on dates, she says I must heal before jumping into a serious relationship with someone new.”

Your voice turned progressively lower with each word you pronounced, and once you finished you stood there, looking at the tall and handsome man in front of you, expectantly. Cregan nodded, softly. Then he clicked his tongue and smiled once again. You frowned after seeing his reaction, and before you could say anything at all, he spoke first.

“What if it’s not a date?”

You froze. Your eyes narrowed with confusion as he chuckled.

“There’s no need to be something else, we can be friends, right?” he proposed, “unless you don’t want to.”

“Uhm… I- I do, yeah,” you nodded.

“Then we can hang out as friends. That’s not a date, is it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, “No, it isn’t.”

“Can I have your phone number, then?”

You nodded, “Sure.”

And that is when your life turned a little better, and you finally were able to heal.

Helaena scolded you, obviously. Saying that it is obvious that neither of you wanted just a friendship, but you immediately said that you would obey the words of your therapist and not get romantically involved with Cregan, no matter how badly you both want it… you were just friends.

Two months have passed since you last saw Aemond, and now you barely thought about him. Cregan kept your mind busy, inviting you to go out and have some fun. To live a little. You were now inseparable. With Cregan you could publicly do all the things that you were not able to do with Aemond. Now you were not afraid of coming across someone you know, and you were not checking your surroundings every minute afraid of someone seeing you together. There was nothing to hide anymore.

Soon you realized that Cregan was the whole opposite of Aemond. Not only physically, but also mentally. While Aemond was more serious, mature and stern, Cregan was unhinged, funny and easygoing. You found yourself thinking many times what you saw on Aemond in the first place, why did you even fall in love with him?

You never told your therapist about your friendship with Cregan… she did not have to know.

Two more months passed, and you and Helaena finally managed to get the apartment of your dreams, right in the middle of town, in a good and safe area. The apartment was a complete mess when they gave you both the keys, and there was a lot of work to do, especially with carrying the furniture, fixing and painting the walls. You and Helaena knew you were not going to be able to do this alone, so you called for help. The next day, Aegon arrived first with a denim overall without a shirt underneath. Soon Cregan arrived too.

Four people decorating made it faster and easier. It only took a week and a half to have everything ready. That same day at night, Aegon had invited his friends, for he said you needed to inaugurate your new home with a big party.

You did not know when, or how, but soon you were drunk.

Cregan was visibly drunk too, Aegon was already dancing on top of the center table while Helaena was taking polaroid pictures of everything, the music was loud and the amount of people was growing each time. You were actually surprised that the police had not arrived yet.

An Abba song was playing in the background when everything happened. When Cregan was dancing with you as your smile was brighter than ever, as your entire body felt like floating whenever he would hold you by grabbing your waist every time your drunk state would make you trip on your own feet. You were singing loud, while Cregan would only look back at you with a tender smile.

Little did you know that his eyes were filled with devotion for you. He really tried to be just your friend. He really did. But you made it so hard, your mere existence was tempting him. Cregan only held back because he cared too much about you, and because he really wanted to do things right with you.

But while you were dancing, that smile on your face and the way your body moved; it just felt right. Cregan made you stop, holding you still in front of him as his hands cupped your face. Your eyes stared at him, and your smile flickered as you realized what was about to happen. The voice of your therapist appeared in the back of your mind, you felt your ears buzzing as you saw him sighing before he started to lean slowly towards you.

You panicked, but you did not dare to move away because you knew you wanted this too. You wanted it so, so bad.

He brushed his lips against yours, tempting you as you felt his heavy breathing against your lips. You softly whimpered, feeling desperate to kiss him, but he seemed to be taking his time to enjoy the moment. Your hands were holding his shirt, as if you did not want him to let go.

But he did.

Cregan felt guilty about his doings, knowing what you were going through, and knowing what your conditions were. He clenched his eyes pulling back, his hands covering his face as a grunt left his lips and then, he left. You felt the room spinning as you saw him leaving the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night drinking, trying not to think about it.

The next day, you woke up at noon. Helaena went to drop Aegon back to his house, and you were pacing around the apartment trying to clean some part of the mess everyone left behind. You just had a shower, which helped you remember what had happened between you and Cregan, and you wanted to punch yourself in the face.

You felt the urge to call your therapist and call in for an emergency session because you were feeling as if you were about to lose your mind once again. You were about to dial her until someone knocked on the door. You left your phone on the center table and you quickly went to attend the door thinking it was Helaena.

But you found Cregan on the other side.

“Cregan…” you said softly, “I-”

“I forgot my keys last night,” he said, shyly.

“Oh,” you said, a bit disappointed, but you let him in either way.

He walked past you, and you closed your eyes once you smelled his sweet cologne. You followed him towards the living room where he found his keys under the cushions of the sofa. You could only stare at him, the tension between you both was too obvious and you hated it. It felt so odd and uncomfortable, you felt guilty for it.

“Cregan, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted you, “I know I shouldn’t have done, but-” he stopped himself before looking at you with pledging eyes, “fuck, y/n, I couldn’t help it… you looked so beautiful and I just let myself go, I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking clearly-”

“You did it just because you were drunk?” you asked. Cregan tilted his head, his keys dangling between his fingers was a sign of his nervousness.

“I did it because… because I crave for you, y/n,” Cregan said, signs of despair tainting his low voice, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I can’t keep denying this. I fucking need you.”

Your breath hitched as you looked at him. His eyes were begging, and you were certain yours were too. Then you could not help it anymore, it was as if he was a big magnet that pulled you in. You quickly grabbed his cheeks, pulling him close to you as you stood on your tiptoes to finally reach his soft lips.

“W-wait,” he said between the kiss, “wait, no. Your therapist-”

“Fuck my therapist,” you interrupted him without thinking.

He pulled away, looked you in the eye as if he was trying to make sure he heard you clearly. He took a deep breath, still holding you close to his body, and he let out a breathy smile before saying,

“Fuck it.”

His lips soon reached for yours again, this time more hungry than before. It was passionate and deep, you both had been waiting too long for this moment to not seize it. His hands roaming up and down your body, desperate to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his big hands. You felt blissful, completely drunk by the taste of his lips.

Minutes later you were in your room, Cregan kissing your neck as he was now claiming you as his. Small moans left your lips while he was whispering nothing but sweet words and praises against your ear that had you drooling under his broad body. He managed to touch every inch of you, to kiss every part of your body, and you could feel your heart bursting with joy and excitement. Your mind would only focus on the man that was now yours, in how good he was making you feel… in how loved you felt between his arms.

Aemond did not even cross your mind, he had been out of it for a while now.

Few minutes later, after you both finished, Cregan looked at you with glossy eyes and a small, tender smile. He started giving you soft kisses around your flustered face while you were trying to control your breathing. This felt even better than sex, it felt more intimate and loving.

Cregan caressed your cheek, and you smiled.

��Does this mean we’re dating now?” He asked with a smirk.

You only chuckled and laughed, “I guess we are…”

He kissed you once again, and cuddled you between his arms. You wished this could last forever.

Once Helaena found out about your relationship with Cregan, she looked at you with a stern look, and, taking over her role as the mum friend between you both, she scolded you. Of course she was not mad, she was just worried about you and what might happen with your mental health if things do not go as well as you were expecting. You reassure her that you would be fine, and that Cregan was not like Aemond in any way.

The next months were blissful. Your little mental breakdown at Helaena’s birthday was now long forgotten. You were doing fine, you have moved on from Aemond completely. However, it would be unrealistic to say you don’t think about him sometimes, mostly because you're curious to know how he is doing. Sometimes you would eavesdrop when Helaena talks with him on the phone, but you would never dare to ask for him… that felt wrong.

Soon a year passed, and Helaena was organizing her birthday again. She wanted to do something small, not being such a fan of big parties. She asked you a thousand times if it would be okay to invite Aemond to the party, and you repeatedly said yes, Aemond was her brother and they have always been so close. It was her birthday, and you wanted to see her happy.

With Cregan practically living in the apartment now, the decoration took little time. He helped you both to hang stuff in the ceiling and reorganize the furniture so there will be more space.

Soon the guests, which consisted of four more friends and Helaena’s family, started to arrive. And you would not lie to yourself and say that you were not deadly nervous of seeing him again. You were scared that you might react the same way as last year. You knew you loved Cregan, but what if Aemond appears and makes you doubt everything? What if it makes you realize that you never moved on in the first place? What if you have a new mental breakdown in front of him and Cregan?

There were so many doubts in your mind that you had to sit for a while, drinking mint lemonade to remain calm. Luckily for you, Cregan did not seem to notice your nervousness, he was busy talking with some of the guests.

And when you were lost in your thoughts, Aemond walked in, but this time he was alone. He stepped into the apartment looking for his sister. You stared at him, expecting some reaction from you, but there was nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a slight tingle in your gut. You let out a heavy breath, relief and more calm.

You laughed at yourself for a moment, thinking how ridiculous you were for being so nervous about it.

“Hi, y/n.”

You froze, your body tensed as you looked up at Aemond. Your jaw clenched so hard your teeth hurt, and your smile faded slowly. You swallowed hard, and the anxiety in your body came back.

“Hi, Aemond.” you said, quickly. “Umh… Helaena might be in the kitchen.”

“I know, I saw her,” he softly nodded, curling his lips into a shy smile, “I came here because I wanted to know how you are? Helaena doesn’t give me many details.”

“You asked for me?” you spoke shocked.

“Helaena hasn’t given you my greetings?”

You shook your head, “no. She hasn’t.”

“Well, I’ve been asking for you a lot, lately… I’ve- I’ve missed you.” He says in a whisper, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. “I have also thought about you a lot.”

“Have you?” you questioned him, raising your eyebrow.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I realized how stupid I was with you and-”

“Aemond fucking Targaryen! What the hell are you doing here?”

You saw him tense as his relaxed face shifted into a rageful one. You frowned as you saw Cregan palming Aemond’s back so hard it made him tremble on his feet. You were about to open your mouth to ask what was going on, but Cregan spoke first.

“I haven’t seen you in years! Are you still jerking off with Ms. Harroway pictures?” Cregan teased him, and you widened your eyes.

“Stark.” Aemond said bitterly, his one eye looking at Cregan with an expression you have never seen before.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cregan asked again.

“It’s my sister’s birthday.” He grunted, visibly pissed.

Cregan frowned, and you closed your eyes. You told him about Heleana’s brother in the first weeks of meeting him, but you never said his name. Perhaps you would realize that they met each other before. Now Cregan looked at you with concern, as if he was asking whether this is the brother who broke your heart.

“Wait, you’re Helaena’s brother?” He spoke in a growl.

“I am.” He nodded, unbothered, “I think the question here is why are you here?”

“It’s my girlfriend’s apartment.” Cregan said.

Aemond frowned, angry, “you’re dating Helaena?”

“No, I’m dating y/n.”

Aemond’s face fell with an indescribable rage. You didn’t notice it, for you were too busy trying to have an answer from Cregan about how they both met. Aemond was burning, his blood boiling as he heard you excusing yourself and saw you walking away with your new boyfriend.

He hated it. He hated seeing you with someone else being so happy and blissful. A year ago you were still waiting for him, you were still dreaming about getting back with him, but now you had moved one and fucked another man… and the fact that it was Cregan Stark made it even worse.

The same Cregan Stark that made Aemond be the second best in everything at school. No matter how hard he tried, how many nights he would spend studying for a test or training for the school Tourneys, Cregan would always beat him. He was Aemond’s biggest nightmare, and now, somehow, he managed to have you. Once again, Aemond lost to Cregan.

Perhaps it was the fact that it was him the one that was kissing you right in front of him, perhaps it was the fact that his ex left him for another man two months ago, or perhaps it was the pettines inside of him, but he was drunk in madness now. He wanted to pull you away from him and break his face.

He saw how he grabbed your waist in the same way he did once, he saw you looking at him with devotion and love as you spoke, making him smile. You were clearly in love with one another, and Aemond could not handle it. He hated it. You should be begging him to get back together, to be with him again. You should be watching him the same way you were watching Cregan.

You should be with him. Not with Cregan.

As the evening went by, things were getting worse for the silver haired man. He had not stopped staring at you during the whole party; each movement, each word and each breath you took were under a stare filled with hate and anger, filled with spite. Aemond would be unable to take his eyes off of you, and with each minute passing by, he would get more and more mad.

He remembered how soft your skin was, how gently you would kiss him and touch him, how beautiful your laugh was. He remembered your scent, your delicacy and playful stares. He would also remember the way you felt against his skin, the way you would squirm under his touch and how your soft moans would be silenced by his kisses.

At that point in the night, he knew he had to have you back. You were his once, and will be his again, he would make sure of it. He wanted you to be desperate for his touch once more, he wanted all your attention and love for him. Only for him.

He was the only one worthy of your love. How did you even dare trying to find another man when he is all that you need?

A hand on his shoulder made him wake up from his trance. He soon recognized the voice of Cregan buzzing in his ears; “I’ve seen you staring at her the whole night,” Cregan grunted, trying to sound calm, “leave her alone, you’ve caused her enough misery already.”

Aemond scoffed, and his daring voice came out, “and who are you to tell me what I have to do?”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, man. You didn’t appreciate her when you had her, now she is happy. She’s with me, leave her alone.”

He clicked his tongue as a smug grin started to appear on his face, “I made her fall in love with me once, I know that as soon as I speak to her she will be eating from the palm of my hand once again.”

Cregan clenched his jaw after hearing him speaking about you that way. He breathed deep a few times trying to maintain his composure, not wanting to start an unnecessary fight on Helaena’s birthday. Instead, he just let out a breathy laugh and say,

“Look, she moved on… perhaps you should move on too and stop being so obsessed with her.”

Aemond tensed hearing those words. He remembered them too well. The fact that Cregan knew them too was proof enough to know that you had told him all of it, and that was the last straw; what he needed to explode.

In a blink Aemond punched Cregan and cut his cheekbone with his rings. You were coming out of the kitchen with a platter of cookies when you saw them pushing each other. Aemond was beating Cregan while the last one was trying to defend himself instead of punching back. Your heart sank as you heard the guests’ gasp. Alicent was the first one to react, trying to make the both men stop.

Aemond did not hear his mother screaming, he did not hear your pleas. He certainly did not feel Aegon pulling his shirt. His eyes were only seeing red as his hand was still beating Cregan. He thought about not stopping until killing him, to get him out of the way so he would get back to you. Cregan was an obstacle on his path back to you, and he wanted to get rid of it.

His mind was blind with the adrenaline of the moment, too filled with rage to even realize what was happening, and all his negative emotions became even worse when Cregan gave him a punch back. It was not until a group of three men pulled him back that he finally stopped.

He was breathing fast, looking bewildered by his own actions. He looked around, he saw you running towards Cregan as you worryingly held his bloody face. He frowned; you should be comforting him, not Cregan.

Soon Alicent stepped in, grasping Aemond’s arm strong enough to force him to look at her, “What the hell were you thinking?!” She scolded him.

He did not answer to his mother, instead, he looked at you. You were already staring at him with disbelief, and a bit of anger. You shook your head slightly as you were helping Cregan to go to your room in order to heal his wounds.

Aemond clenched his hands, and he breathed heavily. He will have to find another way to make you his again, because killing your new boyfriend was not the best idea.

1K notes · View notes

peachysunrize · 4 months ago

Text

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

word count: 5.2k+

warnings: angst & fluff! English isn’t my first language<3

a/n: loviessssss welcome to the first chap of my summer romance! I hope you love this as much as I do when I’m writing it! Reblogs & comments are most appreciated🥹🍊 and very special thank you to @namelesslosers for betaing this for me<33🩷

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

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Updates: every Saturday!

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Chapter 1: runaway bride

He shouldn’t be stressed, should he?

Everything is in the right place; groomsmen are standing behind him while fixing each other’s coats and reassuring him, bridesmaids are in front of him as they talk and giggle, the guests are whispering and the priest is tapping his fingers on his watch.

Alys is a few minutes late, but it’s just a few minutes, there’s nothing to worry about. Aemond knows she must be even more stressed than he is. It’s their big day after all and naturally, the bride is the more anxious one. Surely that’s true, right? But why are his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat uncontrollably, why is rocking on the ball of his feet? He can’t be that nervous.

He looks around, finding his mum biting her nails. She searches around the room, looking for someone, anyone, to come and tell her about her bride-to-be’s whereabouts. His eye finds Helaena, watching as she caresses the flower petals before meeting his gaze, smiling broadly at him. He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes to convince her he’s doing alright. He is alright, just a tad bit too stressed for everyone’s liking, especially Helaena who can sense his nerves buzzing with excitement and fear.

The church Alicent chose for his wedding has been used by Targaryens for years and passed on for generations. The walls covered in royalty tapestries of mythical Valyrian gods have seen many weddings and unions, and now, they will see his wedding.

He sighs, wanting to run his fingers through his hair but remembering his hair is in a low bun and his Mum would kill him if he ruined his perfectly done hair. He sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, his brow furrowing in worry.

What is taking her so long? She should have been here ten minutes ago.

Aemond turns around and looks at Daeron, their eyes meeting for a brief second before his younger brother nods and walks to the corner of the hall before slipping out the door without any hesitation.

“Don’t worry, brother, she’ll come around,” Aegon says, his breath stinking with the three glasses of champagne he’s had from the bar in the garden attached to the church grounds, where they will host the party.

“This isn’t another simple date she can be late to. This is our wedding, Aegon!” He exhales shakily, his voice barely above whispering.

He knows he is right, even Aegon knows he is right, but there is little they both can do. They need to wait for her to show up eventually. She will, won’t she? Of course she will, it was Alys who was too eager to marry, start a family, and take a step towards their shared dreams. She reassured him of his hesitation, and he agreed to do this with a heart full of love.

“Sir,” the priest calls him, “I’m needed for another ceremony in about an hour and the ride there will take a long—“

“She will come,” Aemond’s response is more of a reassurance to him than the priest, “you must have seen this more than us, Sir, the bride always shows up.”

“Yes, yes, my apologies,” the man nods his head, going back to do whatever he was doing before.

With every second that passes and Alys doesn’t show up he grows more restless, beads of sweat forming on his hairline. Aemond is a closed-up person, not really used to showing his feelings and emotions outwardly, but now, he is tapping his foot on the ground while his eye swipes at the guests, finding his half-sister’s family behind his Mum — he averts his eye quickly. The last thing he needs is to get furious over his sister’s goblins.

“What is taking her so long?” He hears someone say from the guests, even their stupid gossip is not enough to distract them from how late the bride is. He is growing desperate at this point, the muscles in his shin are growing tired with how fast he is tapping his foot on the floor, his fingers can no longer fidget with his coat instead his nails are digging into his sweaty palm.

Please, please, Alys, just open this door… He thinks to himself before spotting Daeron sneaking inside the hall with you on your toe. He watches as the two of you make your way toward Helaena, whispering something in her ear before she and Daeron leap out of the hall in a second, catching everyone’s attention.

The hall grows noisier, and the hushed whispers turn into loud accusations and questions; “Where is the bride?”

“I have always known she was problematic!”

“Eight years older? How scandalous!”

“How did Viserys Targaryen let his son marry her?”

“I have heard she has quite the reputation with men, always after their money—“

Now his hands are shaking, he hides them by locking them behind his back before he looks in front of him, trying to mask out the noise. Aemond catches your eye, watching as you give him a reassuring smile before taking slow steps towards him.

“Hey you.”

“Hey…” he replies as best as he can without his voice breaking, “you look beautiful.”

“So do you, little nerd!” You reach to fix his bowtie, trying to calm him down a bit, “not so little though, right? You’re getting married before me!”

“Yeah, I’m younger and I beat you to it,” he chuckles a little, silently thanking you for keeping a leash on his nerves.

It’s always been like this since the two of you remember. Growing up close to the Targaryens as Helaena’s kindergarten friend until now, you have grown to know each of the siblings like the back of your hand, especially Aemond who was a constant presence in your games with Helaena since he could walk — sometimes it feels like you are his best friend and not Helaena’s with how attentive you are to him. As much as he wishes for that to be true, he knows the bond you share with his sister is something so precious and special that no one can break it.

“Just so you wait, Aemond, you won’t be invited to my wedding when the time comes!” You tease him, trying to lighten his mood, reaching to fix a few strands of hair that have fallen out of his bun.

“That’s not fair—“

Everyone falls silent when the door is pushed open, revealing a heaving Daeron and a very anxious Helaena. You both turn around to look at the siblings, meeting them halfway with Aegon following you closely.

“We…” Helaena starts, but she can’t talk. Something bad must have happened for her to be so speechless.

“What?” You ask gently, resting your hand on her shoulders in hopes of trying to get her to talk.

“We found Alys,” Daeron looks at Aemond with an unreadable expression, “but she…”

“Spit it out for fuck sake!” Aegon whispers through gritted teeth, his hand shoved in his pockets as he waits for Daeron to finish his sentence.

“She doesn’t want to get married,” Helaena blurts out, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looks at Aemond with sad sympathetic eyes.

“Hel, this is insane. Did she say it herself—“ you say, frowning slightly.

“Criston is holding her back from running away. There’s a car parked outside, I think—“

Aemond can’t listen to these words anymore, so he pushes past his siblings and you, jogging out of the church towards the attached garden, finding Cole and Alys tangled in a messy fight as she tries to escape from his grasp.

“Alys!” He yells her name, making the couple freeze, but in a second, she knees Cole in his stomach and runs past him, her long white dress drags across the grass as she bolts out of the gates too fast for Aemond to be able to catch up, and once he does, he watches the car leave.

The noises around him vanish, and all he can hear is the thumping of his pulse in his ears, and the sharp breaths he takes. The world around him seems to disappear, and his good eye follows the path the car is taking, his fingers are tingling, his chest rising and falling rapidly while he tries to regain his grip on himself.

He sighs, finally his senses coming back as he looks around him, finding you, his Mum, and his siblings running towards him. Aemond doesn’t wish to talk to anyone, he wants to stay invisible, for the world to swallow him whole and keep him away from the humiliation that is about to be unleashed on him.

“Darling—“

“Aemond—“

The group reaches him, Alicent cups his face in her warm hands as she looks at him with tears stinging her eyes. Aemond can see how devastated she is about him, how she desperately wants to say something and ease his pain but the words are lost in the air when she opens her mouth to utter them.

He reaches and holds her wrists gently, pressing her palms against his cheeks as they silently communicate their emotions — no words need to be said, they understand, Alicent understands his pain, and he knows that she would take it away if she could.

“We should tell the guests,” Aemond says before letting go of his Mum’s hands, striding past his siblings and you towards the salon attached to the church, finding many of the guests already there — his half-sister and her kids with a few other relatives.

He knows they are waiting to hear more of this mess just to taunt him and make his day worse. Everyone knows they are looking for one mistake from him and his family to ruin their reputation, and now, with Aemond Targaryen’s runaway bride, they must be ecstatic.

“What happened, nephew? We thought we were invited for a traditional wedding, but all we see is a lonely groom—“

The glare Aemond gives his uncle and nephews is enough for them to shut up. He tries to put up a strong front, head held high and hands folded behind his back, but if you squint you can see how his resolve is crumbling with each second that he spends in their presence.

He decides not to give in to their silly games and walks towards the bar before he snatches the pack of cigarettes on the stool, leaving the room without saying a word. His mind is foggy as he tries to walk past everyone, he is handling many things at the same time but the bitter and heavy feeling in his chest crushes his strength to process it.

The sound of chatter and gossip fades away as he walks through the back garden of the church; a few little benches and a fountain in the corner hidden from the eyes of the guests with a wisteria tree.

This area could have made a romantic core memory for Aemond and Alys if only things had gone differently…

With a deep sigh, he sits on the ground, his back against the fountain as he fiddles with his bow tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, his coat falling on the ground next to him. He opens the pack of cigarettes, pulling one out before he reaches in his pants for a lighter — something he is sure you’d scold him for as you always do, teasing him lightheartedly about his obsession with lighters.

When he inhales the smoke, his mind gets clearer, and he can think a little better, but he is not sure if he would really like to do so. His ex-fiancé left him just a few minutes ago, and his mind fills with dreadful thoughts.

Was it him?

Was he too young for her? Too immature?

Did she change her mind because she loved someone else?

Was he too strict and selfish?

Was it really him who brought this on himself? On his family?

He blows out the smoke, resting his elbow on his knee as he reaches to untie his bun, his hair falling freely around his shoulders while the droplets of water land on the soft silver strands from the fountain.

It is the beginning of the summer, the spring chill of the weather is replaced with an increasing heat, the birds chipper and he can see the peachy hue of sunset in the sky from between the leaves of the tree.

He feels numb, a dull ache in his chest blooming as the reality hits him. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette, throwing his head back, and letting his hair fall inside the water fountain. He sniffs, closing his eye to keep his tears from flowing down, the storm of his thoughts wrecking his mind once again.

He loves her, she was his everything from the start — his first kiss, first girlfriend, first fight. Alys was his everything, and now, she is nothing but a memory, a memory he wishes to wipe away quickly.

How can you claim to love someone and leave them without any remorse?

There is guilt and sadness, but mostly it’s the doubt and self-hatred that makes him want to sob. Many questions are swirling in his head about how he is the reason she has left. Maybe she was right about leaving him, no one would like to be the wife of a man who deals with heavy pain daily.

He takes another drag, relishing in the feeling of the soft evening breeze that kisses his heated skin, cooling him down a little. The smell of smoke grounds him in this world, making him forget about the mess that is probably happening in the church. He is sure his siblings and Mum are trying their best to talk to Alys’ relatives and other guests, explaining the situation in a hurry.

“Your suite must have cost thousands,” you say casually, announcing your presence as you walk with your long dress in hand, careful with how uneasy your heels feel on the soft grass, making your way to where he is sitting.

“Nothing compared to the decorations she ordered,” he scoffs, putting out his cigarette on the edge of the stone of the fountain before he straightens his neck and looks at you.

“Yeah, I saw them,” you sigh, fisting your skirt before sitting next to him, shoulders touching subtly, “she has a very… interesting taste. Who’d thought a lawyer would be into witchcraft?”

“She likes things no one can understand,” he says, gazing up at the wisteria tree, “I also paid for the dress you are getting wet grass stains on—“

“That was irrelevant because Hel bought it for me! She knew how much of an ass you’d be about it,” you chuckle a little, watching as a ghost of a smile finds its way to his face before it falters and his eye drops to the grass, the smile no longer visible.

“Yeah, maybe that’s why Alys left,” he scoffs in disbelief again, shaking his head a little as he thinks of every bad trait he has, considering all of them could be the reason she decided she was better off without him.

“Her loss,” you say softly, “you are too funny, little nerd, even for someone who can be a stuck-up ass sometimes.”

“You are lucky my sister loved you enough to keep you around because I’d get rid of you the second I could,” he mumbles, huffing out a small laugh when you punch his biceps playfully.

“That’s not nice, Aemond!” You laugh together, rubbing the place where you hit him, “You love me too, that’s why you will never get tired of me,” saying this, you can see his shoulder tensing — love, what a weird word to use.

Does he love you? Does he even love anyone?

Maybe he does, but it wasn’t enough to keep his fiance with him.

Maybe his love was too much for Alys to bear.

“How did you find me?” He asks, his voice hoarse and thick, “I was trying to be invisible.”

“Give me that—“ you grab the pack of cigarettes from him, pulling one out and waiting for Aemond to light it for you. You inhale a puff, handing it back to him before looking up at the sky, “do you remember when you’d steal my books and go into your old stables to read?”

“I do, no one could find me,” he takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he talks, “but you did.”

“I believed you would do it because you wanted someone to look for you,” you look at him with soft eyes, “and I always did. Your siblings had no idea where you would go, but I knew you like the back of my hand. Or maybe I just wanted my book back!”

He matches your smile, but you can see the pain in his eye, this is not a time to beat around the bush. He wishes to let it out — whatever it is. Perhaps it’s anger, frustration, betrayal, maybe it’s his ultimate desire to vanish into thin air to save himself from the press and humiliation that he’ll be going through.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks, and you must be able to see the agony he is in, he is in grave distress, and the cloud of doubt is causing a tornado in his head that will kill the remaining of his confidence, “did I not give her enough love, show her how much I wanted her?”

“You gave her your heart, something you would never do for someone you didn’t like,” you reach and squeeze his shoulder, “you did your best, gave her your everything. We all saw how devoted you were, it is not your fault.”

“Then why? Why?!” He asks desperately, looking at you with his wide teary eye, the ocean blue orb staring into your soul with need, “I thought I was everything she wanted, she said it herself—“ he looks away before he can cry, throwing his head back to stop the tears from falling, putting the cigarette between his thin lips.

“You are more than enough, Aemond—“

“She wasn’t worth it, was she?” He cuts you off, “she took me for granted,” he sounds so little, so fragile, and he feels so.

“You loved her! I’m sure, Aemond, that your love for her was so beautiful and precious, it was Alys who couldn’t be better.”

“She was the one who wanted to get married as soon as possible…” he whispers, closing his eye as he talks with the cigarette between his lips, “even Aegon made fun of me for not saying no to her, he said I needed to grow up and not give in to her whims.”

“Aegon is a little shit, he can’t even keep one girl in a one-month relationship. He should be the last person on earth to get advice from,” You nudge his shoulder, grab the cigarette, and pull it away from his lips, “loving your partner is not a crime. So what? You liked spoiling her, did you not?”

“Yeah, I did…” he says, looking back down at his fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants, “Alys used to tell me I was a kid too, that I needed to grow up or else I wouldn’t be a good husband.”

“Oh, Aemond…”

He averts his gaze towards you, tears brimming in his eye, “I did everything I could,” he is helpless, the gut-wrenching feeling is eating him alive.

“Don’t bottle it up, little nerd,” you reach and push a few strands of his hair behind his ear, “you can cry, I’m here.”

And he does; he rests his head on your shoulder and starts sobbing quietly, tears falling on his scarred cheek.

“I’m here,” you whisper, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, making him feel safe enough to pour his emotions out.

Aemond has been avoiding the situation as best as he can; ignoring his grandfather’s calls, not leaving the house for a few weeks, and trying to get a hold on his life again.

All his efforts are in vain.

He still lives in the same apartment in Rosby he and Alys bought a few months ago, their photos and pictures hanging on the walls, the bed they used to sleep on together, their bathroom, their kitchen — everything feels like an old movie reel, a twilight zone he doesn’t know if he likes to leave or embrace and drown in it.

Aemond has been keeping contact with his siblings throughout the past week, refusing their help to come and live with him for a while, saying he wanted some time alone to figure out what he wished to do from then on.

The media is filled with pictures of him standing outside the garden catching the car speeding away — how the paparazzi get there? No one knows but the fingers are pointed at his half-sister and uncle. The pictures are all over the news and the internet, mainly using his Targaryen name to drag him into the dirt.

He plops down on the couch, unlocking his phone only to be greeted with thousands of texts from his Mum and Daeron, begging him to come home and stay the summer with them in Targaryen residency. It’s not an idea he hasn’t entertained before, in fact, he would like to go back home and take some time off for himself. So he texts Alicent and tells her he’ll move in with them for a while until he is better and ready to come back to this forsaken apartment.

He starts packing a few hours later, dirty clothes thrown into the washing machine while he sits on the floor with a huge suitcase ready to be filled. Suddenly his phone starts ringing, startling him greatly. He reaches for the phone on the bed, looking at the screen to see who’s calling him. You. Your name lights up his phone, making him smile a little, thinking probably the word has spread like wildfire.

“Hey,”

“Hey yourself, little nerd!” You say enthusiastically, “heard you wanna move back into your Mum’s place.”

“Hmm, yeah,” he sighs, securing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he talks to you, “a change would be nice, especially for the summer.”

“Then you’re in luck!” You reply, “Hel asked me to come and spend the summer at the mansion too!” he chuckles when he hears you groaning over who knows what before continuing, “Anyway, I’ll come to your place whenever you want so I can help you pack whatever you’d like to take there and then drive to King’s Landing.”

“Sounds great, I really appreciate the offer,” he agrees, grabbing the phone as soon as the washing machine stops, “I’d like it if you could take some time and come here tomorrow?”

“Of course, just send me the location, alright? The sooner we pack, the sooner we can have some of Aegon’s magnificent cocktails!”

“Urgh, that loser will be home too?” He feigns a groan, breaking character when he hears your snort.

“Stop being mean to him, he makes the best Sex on the Beach!” You both chuckle, knowing you are right, Aegon does make the best cocktails known to humankind, “We’ll have fun there, and I’ve missed Vhagar so much!”

“I missed her too,” Aemond says fondly, “thank you again for helping me out, I wouldn’t have reached out if you didn’t call me.”

“Oh I know, that’s why I called. You can always count on me! Anyway, I’ll come tomorrow and help you pack.”

“Alright, thank you, I’ll text you the address,” Aemond says, grabbing the basket to empty the wet clothes from the washing machine.

“See you tomorrow, Little nerd!”

“You should have told me you have a Chevy Camaro, I doubt we can fit anything in this little car!” you hug and greet him when he opens the door, “I brought my things too if it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure, the sooner we pack, the sooner we can leave!” He replies, grabbing your suitcase’s handle, and leading you inside his apartment, “Don’t worry, my car has carried much larger things. This is nothing.”

“Whatever you say! Now— woah, you are packed already?” You look around the room, a few boxes neatly put on top of each other and labeled, one backpack and another half-filled suitcase on the floor.

“I just need some help with my clothes and whether I should…” he points at the framed photos on the walls, photos of him and Alys, “throw them out or send them to her with her belongings.”

“Well, I think you should give it some time before you do something you might regret,” you squeeze his shoulder lightly, “it seems we can go tonight, right? You don’t have many things left to pack.”

“Yeah, just a few clothes! You can get the snack while I put them in the suitcase—“

“No, no, lemme fold your clothes! You should start putting the boxes away, I’ll get everything ready,” you pat him on the chest, walking towards his bedroom to fold his clothes for him.

He nods silently and thanks you before he grabs the boxes and leaves the apartment. You both work quickly, taking a break and having tea together, you ask about how he’s holding up, and he dismisses your questions as best as he can, not really wishing to entertain the thoughts that’ll disturb him.

“Aemond, do you want to bring your books too?” You ask him, groaning as you drop the heavy box on his bed, “because I doubt we’ll have enough space to take all of these with us to King’s Landing.”

“Just those that are already tucked away!” He yells from the kitchen, finishing cooking for you, “We’ll finish it after dinner, c’mon.”

“Okay,” you sigh tiredly, not really expecting the packing to drag on for so long. After all, he said he only needed a few clothes, not half of his wardrobe with his expensive watches and sunglasses.

“I think we have packed enough for at least ten spontaneous parties Aegon will be throwing this summer,” you mutter, sitting behind the island in the kitchen.

“I doubt he’d let an occasion like my birthday let go so easily now that I’m back home,” Aemond shrugs, handing you a plate, “he mostly ignores the occasion but I’m sure he and Mum will do something, and make a huge deal out of it. That’s why I need to be prepared.”

“Well, it’s the first birthday in a while that I’m attending too so it better be something good!” You tease him, thanking him for the delicious meal.

“It will be, or at least Mum’s plans will be great. She has Daeron as her non-assigned assistant now that I’m gone and they make quite the duo. They always host the best gatherings together.”

“Alicent is a perfectionist, of course, she’ll be the best person to throw a birthday party for you,” you agree with him, “but you can’t deny that Aegon’s parties are always better! He’s reckless, and the drinks are the best.”

“Only the best for the oldest Targaryen son, right?” He sighs again, looking down at his plate, “Sorry, it slipped my tongue, I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay,” you reach and rub his forearm, “you’re dealing with lots of things now, I understand, we all do.”

“I hope I don’t ruin your summer with us with my stupid sappy attitude,” Aemond jokes — or at least tries to.

“Sappy or not, you are my best friend’s brother, and I watched you grow up! There is nothing you can do to make my time with you miserable,” you smile at him softly, finishing your plate before you both stand up to get ready and leave, “I’ll take care of the dishes, you go close your suitcase and we take whatever’s left to your car.”

Time passes quickly and you find yourself getting inside Aemond’s car later than you expected. He makes sure everything is packed and safe both in the apartment and in the trunk before he gets inside the passenger seat — he can’t drive at night because of his eyesight so you’ll drive to King’s Landing. It’s not a long ride fortunately; four hours by car and you’ll be there in no time.

Aemond, despite trying to keep up with the conversation, falls asleep halfway through the road, and you let him take a nap before you arrive there and get bombarded by questions left and right.

When you pull in front of the entrance gates, Cole is already waiting for you, ready to take your bags out and park the car even though someone else could be doing it.

“Hi, Cole,” Aemond greets him with a thick voice, rubbing his sleepy eye before he gives Criston a halfway hug, patting his back.

You shut down the engine, get out of the car, and greet Cole after you hand him the remote, following Aemond in the path leading to the entrance door with a few boxes in hand as you help him take a few of his belongings inside the house.

Alicent is already waiting in front of the door anxiously, slowly rubbing her throat and neck as she waits for Aemond to reach her before she brings him in a tight embrace, not minding the sharp points of the boxes digging in her sides — just having her son with her is enough to remedy all of her pain.

“My darling,” she tears up a little, caressing his hair and kissing his cheek, “I’m so happy you decided to come home, I missed you so much.” “I missed you too, Mother,” he pulls back a little to put the boxes down and hug her completely, resting his head on top of hers as she wraps her arms around him.

Everyone is interrupted when a series of barks echo in the house, and in a second, a huge fluffy black Chow Chow jumps on Aemond, licking his face happily. Vhagar, oh, how he missed his old lady. He chuckles and scratches behind her ears, ignoring all the stares as he reunites with her.

“Babyyyyyyy!” Helaena squeals before she runs towards you to help you with Aemond’s things, kissing you and giving you a side hug, “Thank you for agreeing to come! I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together.”

“Thank you for having me, lovey!”

“I’m so thankful you helped him, darling,” Alicent pulls away from the pair nearly lying on the floor while one of them is having his face licked, her hand caressing your back as she draws you in her arms as well, “Thank you for bringing home, I’m in debt to you—”

“Oh, no, it was nothing!” You look at her before giving Aemond and Vhagar a cheeky smile, “It was the least I could do, I’m glad I could help.”

“Come, come! You must be tired, your rooms are ready. Cole will take your bags,” she says, leading the way with Aemond who has his free arm wrapped around Daeron, and Vhagar jumps next to his feet while you and Helaena follow them.

“Aegon is asleep, you know him, he has big plans for this summer, especially now that Aemond can use some distraction,” she bumps her shoulder to yours, “meaning we’ll have the time of our lives!”

“Yeah,” you smile at her before looking ahead of you, catching Aemond turning around to give you a quick smile, “What a summer it’ll be.”

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