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divinesolas · 7 months ago

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Deja vu Pt. 2

Summary: You have successfully secured your marriage with aemond. But what of his reaction? what of what your family will think? Secrets are spilled, feelings are all mixed up and you are thrown into the future that you now have no clue what will happen, what will happen will only be what you make of it.

w.c: 10k

c.w: spoilers for the future of hotd mentioned, a lot of feelings, father daemon, and some smut. not proofread

a.n: sorry this took forever pls let me know what you guys think!! <3

taglist: @venmondiese @a-mexican-waffle @alwaysholymilkshake @seabasscevans @darylandbethfanforever9 @chloe-skywalker @m-riaa (if i missed anyone im sorry)

part one part three masterlist - requests are open

It takes you awhile to stand up. You sort of just sit there for a while, unable to believe what has just happened.

He had touched you.

He had kissed you.

One of your hands shakily comes up and touches your bruised lips, allowing yourself to get some semblance. It had been real, if the slick that sticks to your thighs and the pulsing ache between your legs was not enough.

Your legs wobble as you try to stand, you actually end up falling back onto the bench before you successfully stand and slowly make your way back to your room. Your mind is a muck. You can’t think. Not right now. Hopefully not ever. You don't want to think about anything. Not about what had just happened. Not about the dinner that will occur later. Not about Him. Nothing at all.

You will nap before dinner, a part of you hoping you don't wake up. You finally manage to get there after an agonizing walk, not before stopping a maid and requesting a bath drawn for you. You can't stand the sticky feeling between your legs. When you enter the room you let out a sigh of relief. You just want to mentally escape from it all so you jump when you turn around and clutch your chest.

“kepa.”

You and daemon had a different relationship than his other children. Your three birth brothers had not taken to calling him father, not that daemon was not nice to them. He treated them well and made sure they grew up to be proper men, but it had felt awkward for them. Rhaenyra and daemon married so quickly after your “fathers” death and it just had made things awkward.

To his and especially your mother's surprise you had quickly taken to calling him father which he enjoyed. He ended up showering you with affections he would normally only save for his dragon. You had no issue with him, not feeling the awkwardness your brothers had, you had no clue why but it just had become a habit to calling him father. You tried to ignore the guilt you felt whenever you would look at rhaena, knowing of her now strained relationship with him yet you would always get to spend time with him.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he motions to the chair next to him and pats the cushion. You cannot deny him, he had made his way to your room and was sitting at your table. You sit down next to him, fiddling with your hands in your lap as you look anywhere but him. You have yet to speak to him since yesterday morning, making an effort to avoid him at all costs. You know he would question you, swiftly interrogated you.

“Kepa-” “Let me speak first.” You swiftly close your mouth and tense. He crosses his arms and leans back into his card, his gaze doesn't leave your face. “You will tell me why you have been acting so strangely.” “I have not-” “You will not lie to me girl.” You stay silent for a while, your world feels like it's closing in around you. You close your eyes tightly, hoping the world will open up and suck you in, that a bolt of lightning will come and strike you.

Suddenly a hand is places on your leg and your head shoots up, his face has changed into a softer one, only reserved for you. “Skoros iksos ziry ao issa zaldrīzes?” (what is it you my dragon?)

You look down at your lap and your whirlwind of emotions comes spilling out. You tell him everything. From lucerys death to blood and cheese to rooks rest and to your death. Your plans of what you are doing now, why you are trying to do this. Everything. Though you admittedly leave out some details like what had just occurred this afternoon... It feels good to finally tell someone whats been going through your head.

You don't know how long you had been talking but once you stop the room is dead silent. He says nothing for a while, putting his hand on his chin and he looks as of he’s in deep thought. You anxious watch his face, your hands pick and prodded at the fabric of your dress, pulling on loose threads. You must sound insane and he will tell you as such.

“I believe you.”

Your mouth opens in shock. He taps his fingers on the table as he speaks, “Of course those fucking hightower cunts would do that. i should go slit their throats right now.”

You shake your head as you try not to think about how your stomach churns at the thought of aemond dying.

“That would be a terrible idea.”

“And you would rather lucerys die?”

“My plan will work kepa i am certain of it plus you would be hung for treason.”

“Is it truly treason if i have good reason? nobody likes them anyway i would be deemed a hero.”

“You do not like them kepa you do not speak for everyone.”

“Are you saying you like them? You like aemond?”

You don't know anymore.

These last couple months you had hated him. You despise him. Wished him dead every moment. But when you were kids you thought he was sweet. He never did anything truly wrong to you personally though you understand your siblings distain for him. You would always reprimand your brothers for following with aegon’s schemes and usually got them to apologize to him.

Maybe you had affections for him you kept locked up for a long long time. When you had come back to the keep for the first time you had thought he was handsome and tried not to think any deeper than that. It was easy when you were so distracted by your brothers trial and he had pissed you off when he called you all bastards during the dinner.

This reminds you of something you had forgotten. Did he still call you a bastard? Would he mumble it under his breath as you walk away from him?

You are probably the most clueless person in the whole keep.

“Does it matter if i do?”

“Were you with him just now?”

You nod, a confused look gracing you face as he laughs to himself. “What?”

“I could tell you like him very much.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“It is very obvious to tell when a lady has been fooling around with a man. You are lucky i am the only one who wished to see you this afternoon.”

You flush as his hand comes up and fiddles around with your hair. Was it truly that obvious? You had been sitting here this whole time and he knew?

“kepa-”

“i will not question you on your affairs. You are free to do as you wish,” He holds up his hand to stop you from speaking, “and i truly do not wish to think about that hightower cunt putting his hands on you. and hopefully it was just his hands.”

“Daemon!”

“So im just daemon now? im hurt.”

You lean back in your chair and a silence befalls you two once more. The door opens and you two turn your heads to the maid. “Your bath is ready princess.” You nod and wave her away, stating you wished to bath yourself this afternoon, because you would be embarrassed about how messy you must be but request someone sent in to help you get dressed. She nods and leaves swiftly.

You turn to daemon who stands and you follow suit. He grabs your arms and stares at you. “if you truly believe your plan will work i will advise you to try and put a wedge between himself and the rest of his family. He will choose them over you in a heartbeat. You must swiftly put in the effort and attempt to make him not trust them. However you see fit.”

He places a kiss on your forehead but before he can walk off you grab his arm, “You are not going to do anything stupid right?”

He merely smirks at you and that tells you all you need to know, letting go of his arm and not even bothering to watch him leave as you quickly make your way to the tub before undresses and submerging yourself to the steaming hot water.

You scrub and your scrub at any exposed skin you can reach hoping to scrub off whatever infectious potion he has laced into your skin. You can’t help but think about him, and attempt to ignore the way a heated pit forms in your stomach as you recall his words, his actions, what he had done to you.

You don’t know how to feel, you wish someone would come down and give you the answers you seek. Why did feelings have to be so complicated? You scrub until your skin turns red before throwing your head back against the tub and closing your eyes. He seemed rather eager to engage in your ‘affections’ you cant tell if it stems from him being able to tell you are trying to trick him or if he is genuine and wants you.

You had apparently fallen asleep and are woken to a maid shaking your shoulder concerned urging you out of the bath quickly as you had been in there far too long, your hands and feet had pruned. You look to the window and see the sun had set, were you truly in the tub for that long?

The maid holds the dress you had been wearing the last time you were at the dinner and an idea pops up into your head. “I wish to wear the newer dress.” She looks at you shocked, “Something big is happening tonight i should like to look my best.” You know this will cause the maids and the squires to talk and that's exactly what you want, you want them to be on edge this whole dinner, waiting for the bomb that will inevitably drop and by the look on the maids face as you grin happily you can tell this will be the talk of the keep halls.

You see the look of shock when you open your door on jacaerys face as he looks upon your outfit, “You,, look beautiful sister.” You smile and grab his arm, “and you look as proper as ever brother.” “Do not humor me.” “I am merely stating the truth.” You say with a laugh that has him glaring at you and pinching your arm causing you to yelp and slap his chest.

You soon enough walk into the dinning hall with lucerys and the dragon twins trailing behind you and immediately look to aemond who stands in front of aegon with a bored look. You freeze as you see him look at you and a light smirk befalls his face, you decide to be brave and keep your eyes on him as he stares for another long moment before he looks back. Aegon turns his head and looks at you with a tilt of his head before back to his brother and quickly back to you before turning once more and the two seemingly begun to be in a heated discussion.

You eyes however wonder off to otto who stands in a far, dark corner of the room a squire speaking into his ear before his eyes lock onto you and he looks worriedly back at otto before he bows and walks off. Otto looks over at you with what can only be interpreted as annoyance and curiosity, you merely wiggle your fingers at him in a little wave before you walk over to a seat. You choose to sit near lucerys in the hopes to keep his attention off of aemond though when you look at aemond as he sits you see that he does not look pleased.

You cannot worry about it now as viserys is brought in and alicent starts with a prayer. You look at aemond whos lost in prayer his hands folded neatly in front of him with his eye closed. He looks like a painting, like if someone had hand painted or a statue that someone had hand carved. It is rare to see a man as handsome as he is. Your eyes widen as he opens his eye to look at you before it closes again and you swiftly turn away from his direction to lucerys who is eyeing his plate but looks up at you and smiles.

Soon enough the food is brought and the on slot of speeches occur. It’s jarring to hear the same phrases and the same sentences heard over and over and over again. You merely continue to conversate with lucerys in the hopes aemond will not get irritated as he did last time. Something out of the ordinary does happen as viserys taps on his glass and everyone turns to look at him.

“In light of this beautiful day i would like to give one last final announcement.” You hold your breath and look to daemon who looks at you with a raised brow and a small chuckle. “I am so happy to know our families will join together once more with the engagement of my son aemond and rhaenyra's daughter y/n.” The table grows dead quiet. Even the staff in the room stops in their place at his words.

Alicent is the first to break it, “That is,,,” She struggles to finish her own sentence as she blinks rapidly, “So wonderful.” Rhaenyra straightens up in her seat and brushes her hand down the front of her dress letting out a confused sound before she speaks, “Yes, so wonderful, what brought on such a decision.”

“y/n had come to me and ask for permission herself.”

At this every head in the room turns in your direction, you let out an anxious laugh as you quickly wipe a drop of sweat that begins to run down your face and let a clearly forced smile grace your face.

Aegon quickly begins to laugh, almost falling out of seat as alicent leans forward to scold him. As daemon begins to chuckle rhaenyra places her hand on his arm, “Did you know about this?” He does not answer, continuing to merely shake his head as he takes another drink from his cup.

You look at the dragon twins and jacaerys who are staring at you with wide eyes while you feel lucerys place his hand on yours, “What is going on sister?” You shrug as you try your best to keep the smile on your face under their stares, “I do not know what you wish for me to say. You should remember what i said.” Jacaerys leans towards you his face furious, “But that should not mean you must marry the man!” His words are hushed yet angry but he seems to settle down a little as baela places a hand on his shoulder. You simply shake your head and do not dare to look at aemonds direction, instead choosing to fiddle around with the food on your plate.

You are so curious to know what he is thinking and you do not attempt to listen to their side of the table, instead as much as you hate it, focus on the scolding you are getting from your siblings and they do not seem to care you give them no response. Things around you finally begin to settle down as viserys is carried out the room and the room grows quiet again.

You grow more and more anxious as you watch helaena speak and know that in the past this is when the night began to fall apart. You rack your mind quickly as you try to decipher what to do. You still do not dare to look at aemond as if he would be any help. You do not bother to think before you act as you see jacaerys almost stand to go offer helaena a dance as you shoot up from you seat holding your cup as everyone stares at you. “I know everyone is sick of speeches but if i could give the last one.”

You relax as you see jacaerys settle into his seat and stare up at you as you take a deep shaky breath before you speak. “I would first and foremost like to acknowledge how wonderful it is to be here with everyone despite the unfortunate circumstances,” You let out a light laugh awkward laugh before continuing, “and i would mostly like to shout out my future husband.” You finally look at him.

He is as stoic as ever but he keeps his eye firm on you. You look for any sort of reaction from him but he merely continues to stare at you like you’re nothing and you lose your confidence, “um,,” You look to daemon who raises his eyebrows at you and his words from earlier come pummeling back into you.

He will choose them over you in a heartbeat. You must swiftly put in the effort and attempt to make him not trust them. However you see fit.

“Our union is a beautiful one, though my letters to you had gone unanswered, i am more than hopeful to make up for the lost time with a timeless bond we shall share. To us.” Your raise your glass to him as his eye widens and his head slowly turns to his mother and otto who look confused at your words and you sit down swiftly with a satisfied look.

Even if he does not like you, you believe letting him believe you had attempted to contact him the years you were apart and alicent or otto or both had hid it from him would be enough to atleast allow him to feel a bit of discomfort towards them, even though you knew it was not enough you would have to do more.

To your relief or maybe even your horror the night quickly closes after your speech and you are unsure of what to do now. This was uncharted territory. In the past you were quickly rushed to your room to pack up your stuff to leave but now you were saying a friendly goodnight to their side of the family and swiftly rushing out of the room before aemond or anyone for that matter could approach you.

You try your best to make it to your room, you can even see the door before you are suddenly scooped up and throw over his shoulder. “kepa put me down!”

“Your mother wishes to speak to you.” “I don’t want to.” you groan in defeat as you try to pull yourself off him but he keeps his arms firmly around you until you walk into a room and he places you down on the couch before taking a seat next to you.

You avoid eye contact with your mother who is pacing directly Infront of you. “I am very angry with you.” “I am sorry mother.” She runs his hands sown her face and stops pacing, standing straight at you with her arms crossed. “This is not something to take lightly you must consult me on these types of things.” “I’m sorry.”

You look down at your lap as you rethink over your decisions. Maybe you did not think this through. You should have talked to her atleast and now she has to deal with the stress of your rash decision. She sits down next to you and grabs your hands in hers. “Is this truly what you want?”

You don’t know anymore. Tonight went a lot better than you had expected. Well maybe it had only gone well because you had intervened when you did but maybe you did not need to marry him for this family to be salvaged. But you certainly cannot take it back now. Maybe you could, maybe they could convince viserys he had imagined the whole thing and you guys could go back to normal which meant the two of you would never speak.

Yet you cannot risk anything happening to your family.

“Yes it is mother.” She lets out a long breath and tightens her grip on you, “Then it is done.”

You let out a shaky breath as you put a grin on your face. You cannot tell how you feel but you are more curious about how he must feel about all this. He must be so confused and you hope he is at least pleased about it. Someone must be.

“Then we will return home in a few days and you can stay here-“

“no!”

You and daemon say at the same time, both of you sitting up in alarm and she leans back in shock looking between the two of you.

“what is with you two? is there something you aren’t telling me?”

the two of look at one another slowly before you turn back to rhaenyra.

“of course not.” “certainly not mother.”

She squints her eyes at the two of you, “are you sure?”

“definitely not.” “No no no.”

She moves on despite clearly not believing you guys. “Then we shall stay, if you so insist…”

you and daemon let a sigh of relief and she continues to look at you two confused. “I will let you two keep this secret you have for now but you will tell me the next time i ask you hear me?”

“yes mother.”

She leans over and cups your cheeks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “now me and your father have much to discuss. Head straight to bed.” You nod and turn to your father placing a kiss on his cheek causing him to smile and grab your face lightly before you stand and say goodnight leaving the room.

You cannot wait to get back to room so you can finally relax for the first time this whole evening, quickly flopping onto your bed and trying to sleep having no regard to change out of your dress merely wishing to escape to the dream world. Now you were walking into this blind, you have so much false confidence as you knew how the events would play out but now you are more than lost. In the past you had been packing up your stuff to hop on a carriage back to dragonstone but now you were staying in the keep. Betrothed.

You had not thought this far clearly. You would be married. It was your duty of course and your mother had begun talking about finding you a suitor but you always brushed it off believing it to be a problem for future you. But future you is here and now you will have to do as women do and marry, lay on the birthing bed to have children.

You will think about this tomorrow. as you fade off into dream land, a small part of you hopes to meet him there.

“Aemond you must see reason they clearly are trying to manipulate you. I shall talk to the king and make him-” “There is no need.”

“Aemond! I will not allow you to marry that girl, you know what she is a b-” “Do not say it.”

Alicent is desperate to get aemond to care about this the way she does but aemond seemed so far away, simply staring at the wall not sparing her a glance. This was not the son she knew, the son she raised and she did not like that.

“Aemond please-“ “Did she truly send me letters?” Alicents blinks, shocked at his question, frozen in confusion, when he scoffs at her appearance and goes to stand she snaps out of it and stands with him. “Obviously she did not aemond. She is lying! I cannot believe you are allowing her to get into your head like this!” Aemond says nothing as she grabs his forearms and looks into his eye. “They are lying to you aemond this is scheme to get you to fall into their trap, to lure you int a false sense of security, son please.”

The two stand in silence for a good moment. The only words exchanged is another please escaping alicents lips. Yet he says nothing at all merely ripping his arms from her grip and fleeing from her room leaving her to call after him. He did not turn back and she flops down on the couch in defeat. Her head in her hands, what was she to do?

You wake up to maids urging you out of bed, scolding you for having fallen asleep in your night clothes and swiftly rushing you to a bath. For a moment you had forgotten about the events of last night and you were at peace until as you were getting dressed another maid came into the room.

“The queen has requested to have tea with you princess.”

You certainly cannot refuse a request from the queen no matter how sick it made you. As you are led there you try to run though any scenario you could think of, would she try to talk you out of the engagement? Would she berate you for lying about sending aemond letters? What if she was actually happy about the betrothal? no certainly not. You remember her clear distain at the idea of halaena and Jacaerys getting married and you’re certain she feels no different about you. maybe you could try and convince her it would be beneficial. But you have no benefits to your name and in truth neither does aemond. Both set to inherit nothing. Your brothers to claim driftmark and dragonstone you truly have nothing to your name other than your blood.

There were no benefits to marrying you. Similar to aemond but he could have a much better life, marry into one of the great houses and become the head of the house. You have stripped him of that, even in the past he was set to marry into house baratheon, though you know he does not honor these arrangements, and had prospects a plenty. And you have stripped him of that. You should be happy he is stuck marrying you for he has lost the ability to inherit anything, yet you cant find yourself happy you only feel sorry for him.

You mentally prepared so hard that when you walked into the room you are unsure what to do when you see your mother and alicent sitting side by side chatting with smiles on their face with aemond sitting opposite of them, a free chair besides him. When they see you they rush you over to sit down next to them, aemond stand and pulls out the chair for you. You let out a hushed thank you as you smile at him and he hums with a faint of smirk on his face as he looks you over before sitting back down himself.

You are poured a cup before the commotion begins once more. “Now that you’ve arrived we should talk about the pressing matters.” You gulp and glance at aemond who blinks. The two ladies flow back into the discussion they were in before, a light argument with both of them showing their stubborness. “It is tradition she be married in the ways of the old gods and it is valriyan traidition. Im sure your son would also like to be married in the way all his ancestors had been.” “And my son also follows the faith of the seven and it would be incredible disrespectful to him should he not be married under the seven.”

“Why dont we just do both?” They turn to you and you merely shrug. “we could do a smaller more intimate ceremony with just family on dragonstone before we have a more formal wedding in the grand sept or whatever its called. Its respectful for both of us and everyone is happy,” you turn to aemond who is already looking at you, “Right?” He hums once more and nods, “Though it matters not to me where we marry it is a good idea nonetheless.”

The two women contemplate the idea before alicent begrudgingly agrees. “It is not an awful idea. but it would be hard to secure the grand sept.” This has your mother turning to her confused. “why ever not?” “Aemond is my second son, we only got the grand sept for aegon because-“ “The high septon shall listen to me when i ask. She is my first daughter and is to be treated as such.”

So the two ladies were in agreement and you let out a sigh of relief. Though you could feel alicents stare burning into you whenever she thought you could not notice but she was more than obvious. Youre more than grateful for the two other people in the room for only the gods know what she would be saying to you should the two of you be alone.

they get so lost in their conversation they barely even notice the two of you. You cant help but glance at aemond and he appears bored, fiddling around with a coin between his fingers. you ignore the fact that your thighs squeeze together while you eye his fingers for a moment too long. “im sorry.” you cant help but say in a hushed voice in his direction. He looks upon you shocked, glancing quickly to his mother but the two barely notice him before he looks back at you. “whatever for?”

“for dropping this on you so suddenly. I was wrong not to consult you before asking grandsire.” You do not know why you feel so sorry now. He is the man who killed your brother for gods sake but now youre sitting here feeling sorry for him? His eye is wide as he looks at you blinking as if he had not heard you right. He takes a few moments to compose himself before he coughs lightly into the fist of his hand. “You should not apologize. I am more than happy that you had asked him about it.” You tilt your head as your heart pounds in your chest, “He probably would have rejected me when i would have asked. My mother would certainly never do it in my stead.” “You planned on asking him?” Your words are strained yet still hushed.

He leans in closer to you and you freeze. “If i have not been obvious enough with my affections then allow me to make them clear to you now. I planned on marrying you whether our family agreed or not. If you do not believe me i am more than happy to show you how i feel like how i had done in the garden.”

You flush as he pulls away. a rush of emotions flow into you, you’re sure your soaked under your dress right now but you cant think about that right now as the two women turn to look at you guys. “I believe it is best we wait a few months to even think about these weddings,” “And i say its best we begin the prep immediately there is no reason to wait but maybe it is best we wait.”

You cannot let them push the wedding back too far. You would even prefer if this union was set in stone right here right now. You worry what will happen within the family should you wait too long to marry. Luckily for you aemond steps in, “I see no reason for delay, wouldnt you like for our father to be present for the ceremony? If we wait too long who knows what could happen.”

You are more than happy he stepped in instead of you though you doubt his reasons for wanting to push the wedding up are as pure as your reasoning is. Alicent, despite the flash of irritation that crosses her face a sad look graces it in its stead and she nods in agreement. “You are right. yet i doubt he would be able to travel to dragonstone in his condition.” “He could travel to the grand sept no? Im sure it would make him more than happy if he could be there.” Alicent looks at rhaenyra before she nods her head, “yes i suppose he could.” “then the matter is settle, we shall have a wedding in the grand sept and the celebrations here then travel to dragonstone where they shall be married and then they could even stay on dragonstone for a few days by themselves it could be a little trip for them.”

You blush at the idea of being in your childhood home with just aemond. Alone. As a married couple. You dare glance at him again and he has a pleased look on his face. his eye reaches yours and the smirk on his face grows at your embarrassed expression. You cannot believe this. “That sounds lovely.” Alicents words are strained but she makes no complaints, realizing it is a 3 vs 1 situation she only looks to rhaenyra. “And when would we be having these ceremonies?” “I see no reason why we cannot have it in two weeks time.” A lump suddenly grows in your throat and you cough into your elbow. ”Two weeks? That is ridiculous! Imagine what the people would think, they would think that…” Alicents words trail off as rhaenyra looks at her with a pointed look and she takes a deep breath. She does have a point as much as you hate to admit it. If you were to announce a sudden wedding the people would certain think the worst, probably that he had gotten you pregnant and you were forced to marry. You certainly cannot handle that. “What if we say we have been betrothed since childhood but are finally getting married now that aemond is older?” Alicent certainly tries her best not to glare at you though you dont let her know shes doing a terrible job yet your mother nods. “Thats perfect. Then its settled yes?”

Everyone at the table, though alicent is reluctant, nods their head in agreement and rhaenyra smiles. “Then me and the queen have a lot to discuss so you two are dismissed.” You go to stand with aemond and your mother turns to you, “Tomorrow i will call you down for the wedding planning.” You nod and bow at alicent with a pleased look as you leave, aemond trailing behind you.

You let out a breath of relief after the meeting. You did not know if viserys would live to the next two weeks you did not even know if he would live to tomorrow. But atleast you knew you would be in the keep when it happened. but whatever happens after that you’re sure your father has it figured out. You barely even notice aemond is walking beside you, your head almost spinning from relief. When you grip your head he turns to you, “Are you alright?” You nod but he seems insistent, grabbing your arm and leading you to sit down on one of the benches aligning the walls.

You lightly thank him while he kneels in front of you, pressing a hand in front of you forehead. “You dont feel warm.” He mumbles more so to himself, you close your eyes and press your head against his hand, the warmth of his hands feels nice against your skin. When you flutter your eyes open he has a smug look on his face so you full back and roll your eyes. Suddenly you realize how reminiscent of the garden the position you two are in now and flush, turning away from him.

He chuckles at your expression , “I did not know my lady was of such an indecent mind.” You glare at him, “And how does the prime and perfect prince know what i am thinking of?” A familiar look graces his eye and he leans in closer to you. you hold you breath as his smirk grows. “Because i am thinking the same thing. No i am thinking much much worse things.”

His words are hushed like they are forbiden they should be forbidden, for the way you shift in your seat and the pounding of your heart. He almost goes into kiss you before his eye widens and he stands. Footsteps.

“Aemond.” helaena looks upon you and smiles, “Good sister.” You smile back at her as best you can and let out a shaky breath, “Princess.” “Please we are to be sisters, you should refer to me as such.” You nod and let a real smile grace your face at her kindness. You have always liked helaena for she has always been kind unlike her brothers. Your eyes widen when you see she is holding jaehaerys, memories of hearing of his death flash in front of you and you try not to let your surprise show on your face. “As you wish good sister.” A big smile grows on her face at your words. “I have always wanted a sister, i am glad you shall be joining us here in the keep.”

You are not shocked to hear she does not consider rhaenyra her sister why would she? But it does rattle you back to earth and remind you why you are doing all this in the first place. For her. Your mother. to prevent a future that might kill her, that would kill you kill you all. You cannot afford to be blinded by pretty words and shove whatever feelings you had down. Standing up you run your hands along your skirt and put on your nicest face. “I am more than happy to be becoming your sister then. Do you have any plans this afternoon?” “I am to take jaehaerys to his lesson then i suppose i am free.” “Then let us chat this afternoon? just us girls.” You add in fear of aemond attempting to insert himself where you fear he will be. She nods eagerly, “Join me in taking him then.” You nod and politely bow to aemond, not missing the gleam in his eye before joining helaena and walking off. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

You do not turn back at his words but helaena does and sends him a smile. His words rattle you more than you would like to admit. You listen to helaena talk about whatever she wished to with a smile, you should not only focus on getting in good graces with aemond it should have always been a priority to focus on earning the good will of the others aswell. You will never gain otto or alicents but helaena and maybe even aegon you could certainly swing in your favor.

Your next few days follow a simply routine, you wake up, eat breakfast with your family, join helaena for stitching, avoid aemond as much as possible though it is easy with him keeping to his sword work and his books, wedding plan with your mother and alicent in the afternoon then eat dinner with the hightowers where you would make conversation with aegon when no one else would. It was simple yet you felt like you were walking on borrowed time each and everyday. You felt a sense of anxiety with every move you made, like someone was waiting for you to slip up, you were waiting every moment for the ball to drop, for viserys to die. Yet it did not happen. The wedding approached closer and closer the beginning of the festivities would begin tomorrow and he was still alive and well, as well as he can be.

You had finished breakfast and were walking to go see helaena but freeze as he stands in the hall, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. At the sounds of your footsteps he looks up at you and stands tall, staring at you. “My lady.” You bow your head, “My prince.” You walk forward towards him and he keeps his position, his eye trailing your every move. You have not spoken much to him, enough to keep civil and keep his attention but not enough for anything really to occur between the two of you, merely small chatter. You intend to keep it that way and move to walk past him, “Good day-” “I wish for you to join me today.” You freeze in your movement and keep you back to him.

You do not know what to do. It would be wrong to refuse him but you are nervous you may not be able to control yourself should you be alone with him. “Helaena is preoccupied this day, and, call me selfish but i wish to hear my future wife say more than five words to me today, if that is acceptable.” The tone in his voice tells you he has a wicked face on and he is content knowing he has called you out. You take a deep breath and turn around, “Of course my prince. I shall join you.”

“Call me Aemond,” He hums as he looks down at your outfit, “I would say put on your riding gear but i am sure you do not have any. This dress with do. Come.” He offers you his arm and you nervously take it, his words worrying you. “Where are we going?” When you to not grab his arm he laces his fingers with yours and begins to walk you two down the hall. “You are to be my wife you shall meet vhagar, she is eager to take a ride.”

You almost argue you do have riding gear until you remember you do not have a dragon. You did not claim one until the war when you claimed a wild one. Your heart aches at the memory but it is only shoved down at the anxiety that trails its way up. “No certainly not. i will do no such thing.” He smiles at your reluctance and continues to urge you along outside of the keep and you walk along a path covered with trees.

“Do not fret i will not allow any harm to come to you. I simply wish to spend some time with you.” “and you wish to do that on a dragon? why can you not train for today yes? I will sit in the courtyard and watch you all day! there is to be a tourney tomorrow you know.” You do not wish to do this, growing more annoyed with every step you take. “Yes a tourney i am more than sure to win in your honor.” His chest is puffed and he looks straight ahead with the confidence of a true dragon.

You scoff, his overconfidence is something you allowed to slip past your mind. “You have never fought in a tourney aemond.” “so you believe i will lose? where has the kind women who sung my praises gone hmm?” Your eyes widen at his words. You have been a fool! allowing yourself to get too comfortable with him. “Forgive me aemond i-” He switfly cuts you off and is pleased at your nervous look. “No no please continue i am so eager to hear what you truly think of me.” You pause and rethink what you will do what you will say. You cannot afford to mess this up with time so fragile.

“Allow me to apologize, i have been denying myself from seeing you, for i fear what i will do should i.” This has him shocked and you smile as you gain the upperhand, he blinks before a smile graces his face pulling you closer to him his grip on your hand tightening. “I am glad we are one in the same.” You are certainly not one in the same but you are also certainly not lying. You do fear what you will do, how you will allow yourself to lose control. It frightened you how much he could do to you.

You freeze as you stand in front of vhagar, she leans to eye you down and you take a step back while aemond speaks to her. He grabs your hand and places it on her nose and she lets out a long breath. “She likes you.” You scoff and shake your head, “I bet she wants to eat me.” “She does not eat people.” Your mind reels back to lucerys and you sigh, gripping at your chest. “Dragons can do anything.” His brow is raised in question but does not dare to say anything. He allows you to get familiar with vhagar and you cannot find yourself to relax despite the fact she is making no clear moves to harm you and does not intent to. He watches you as you shake still in fear and he moves to grab you gently, turning you to him. “If you wish we turn back now we can, i will not force you.”

He once again gives you an out as he always does, whenever you try so hard to make him a bad guy in your head he always twists and turns the story where you end up feeling back for misleading him. You nod and attempt to stand tall and confidence. “I will go.” You will do what you have to, for your family, and it does not hurt that the genuine smiles that graces his face is gorgeous.

He assists you on her and moves to sit behind you, grabbing your hands and covering them with his as he grabs the handles. You already feel as though you are way to far up but when aemond calls for her to rise and fly you close your eyes as the winds hit your face. The only sounds you hear as the flapping of vhagars wings as you soar higher and higher. You do not dare open them despite the fact you have spent the last couple months dragon riding. You fear you will be reminded of your last moments in the sky before you had fallen off, your breath quickens and his head falls on your shoulder, his lips right next to your ears sending shivers down your spine when he speaks. “Open your eyes.”

You do and it is glorious. Riding around the areas of kings landing are much more gorgeous than war. When you look around you do not see smoke you do not hear the sounds of metal crashing and screams and shouts, what you see is beautiful waters and lands and what you hear is merely the rippling's of the wings and the sound of Aemond breathing. “Its wonderful.” He hum and presses a kiss against your neck, “there is nothing more wonderful than this.” You hope he means flying. You are sure he means flying. You gulp and keep your head straight, taking in the sight around you instead of focusing on him. “I get why you do this so often.” “It clears my mind, you should join me when i fly.” Certainly not. You will not yet you do not find yourself refusing. You say nothing as you continue staring out the scenery before you.

The two of you are silent for awhile simply taking in the sky until his hands leave the tops of yours and wrap around your waist instead. “What are you doing?” “I wish to thank you.” “whatever for?” “for wishing to marry me,” you freeze as you begin to sweat despite the cool air hitting you.

“I, am no more than a second son. A cripple. Yet you asked for my hand despite that. When i have nothing to my name other than the one you already share. So thank you.” Your heart shatters. You begin to feel an ache in your chest and you close your eyes and lean into him. You feel awful. Sick to your stomach. He does truly seem to care for you and that makes everything far worse. You cant help but think to yourself would it be so bad to love him? to allow yourself to truly be happy in your marriage and your future together? The man behind you is not the man who killed your brother at least not in this life. or maybe not yet.

Yet you cannot help but turn around to look at him, he pulls away and keeps a firm grip on your hips as he stares at you, a far away look in his eye. “I wish you would not thank me.” “Why not? You have done more for me than you know i merely wish to honor you the way you deserve.” You shake your head and let out a weak no, he must not continue for it hurts too much. “Please don’t,” “I will, i will until i can no longer breath, i will do anything for you.” He presses your foreheads together and you should swiftly pull away from him, turn away and keep yourself locked up tight but you allow him to despite what your head was saying because it is what your heart wished for. “I can offer you nothing.” You say in return as you hope its true, not just in titles in lands in anything but you pray you cannot return his feelings either. Yet he simple rubs his nose against yours and you let out a shuddering breath. “I do not care.”

Your hands find his face and he pulls away from you. You simply stare at him, your eye falling to his eyepatch which he is quick to notice and goes to pull it away from his face. You stop him, “You do not have to, if you do not wish.” He smiles and pulls it away from his face. You are gasp lightly at the glimmering sapphire in his eye. You run your hand under his eye and he leans into your hand. “it is beautiful. You are beautiful.” He shakes his head and presses his forehead against yours. “There is no one more beautiful than you.”

He kisses you. It is not similar to the past kiss you have shared. This kiss is simpler, one made of pure love. Like he is pouring himself into you and you drink every drop of it up. In this one moment nothing else matters. Not the past present or the future just you and aemond above the world. You ignore every worry, every voice in your head telling you this is wrong. Just the feeling of his lips on your and the grip of his hands on your hips. His lips leave yours and trail down the side of your jaw down your neck, licking and sucking at the skin he can reach. Your hands grip his shoulders and you are pulled even closer to him as you revel in the pleasure. His lips trail back up to reach yours once more as one of hands leaves your waist and trails under your dress.

You let out some heaving breaths as he pulls away from you. “Allow me to make my debts right. To give you what you are owed.” You do not even think before you nod, without a care in the world as he presses his lips against yours against he trails his fingers along your slit. Unlike last time he barely wastes anytime before two fingers enter your and you let out a long moan that aemond drinks up as his tongue finds its way in your mouth. You have never felt like this before, with the rushing winds and the feeling of his course fingers inside your walls, his thumb toying with your clit. Aemond pulls away from your lips and you drop your head into his shoulder as he continues his movements inside you.

“You feel so good my sweet, fuck i will never tire of this.” You feel in slip in a third finger causing you to hiss at the stretch. You can focus on nothing other than the way he’s making you feel, you had thought the garden was the best it would get but somehow this was even better, you feel that pit in your stomach grow and grow leading you to bite into the fabric covering his shoulder to silence your only growing moans. “I want to hear you my sweet,” And he certainly hears you, with your battered breaths and shaky moans right next to his ear you can feel himself harden against you. You almost wonder if you should help him but being so close to your release you only think of yourself.

“Aemond,,” “my sweet give me what i desire, cum.” His thumb against your clit quickens and you shake as you drip all over his fingers. They stay inside you for a moment, allowing you to settle in your release before he speaks to vhagar to have you land before he removes his fingers and you watch mesmerized as he takes each one in his hands, licking even at his palm to remove some that had dripped down. “Does it truly taste that good?” He hums with his eye closed as he pops the last finger from his mouth. “absolutely divine.”

You had not even notice you had been flying back to where you had taken off. He must have been steering with his free hand. He basically has to carry you off of vhagar as you legs do not seem to be working. You say nothing to one another until you are off the ground and you eye his hardness. “Do you not need any help with that?” That annoying smirk graces his face and he shakes his head. “I would not want a pretty little innocent girl like you to partake in such terrible terrible sins.” You roll your eyes at his words despite your shaky legs begin to walk away from him which he quickly catches up with you. The rest of your walk is in silence and he walks you back to your room and wishes you a good day until dinner before he leaves and you walk into your room before leaning against your door and letting out a shaky breath.

what were you going to do?

You quickly request a bath before stating that you will take a nap before dinner and sleep finds you quickly. Your dreams are filled of you and aemond, similar to how you had been this afternoon and you lose yourself in them. You had apparently been so lost when you open your eyes it is well past dinner and the sky is as dark as can be. You turn to the other side and hope that when you try to fall back asleep you can but a piece of paper on your bedside table as you sitting up.

meet me in the library.

No name attached to it and you think it could possible be aemond. but what could he want from you at an hour like this? certainly nothing good. You throw on a cloak and walk yourself to the library, with every step you take you grow more and more nervous. Yet when you enter the library and walk around the empty walls of books you let out a sigh of relief at the man you see. “kepa.” he turns to you, his face illuminated by the candle in front of him and he crosses his arms as he turns to face you a look you cannot read present on his face.

“What is that look for?” “You like him.” You flinch like he had yelled at you and you fiddle around with your cloak. “I do not.” Your father takes a few steps towards you and stares you down. his tone angrier but his words are still hushed “I have begged you to be careful.” You shrug and grow annoyed at his accusations, “I have father.” “You say you have yet i am staring at the face of a girl who is walking herself directly into a hightower trap.”

You let out a frustrated noise and throw your hands up as you take a couple steps back. You do not know why you are so annoyed by his words. Maybe it is because you feel he is undermining you and does not trust you. Or maybe its because you feel called out by him. You do not know what you feel or what you think about him anymore. Maybe you really are walking into some elaborate trick. Or maybe youre not. You have no clue anymore.

You snap. And you yell at him depsite the fact you do not mean to.

“I am doing exactly what i must do for our family. I do not like him i am not falling into some trick everything i am doing is for us! so screw him and if i have to pretend i love him for the rest of my life then i will because i am doing it for us!”

The two of you are silent as you stare each other down. You do not know what came over you but you merely wish to leave this conversation and for him to leave you alone. The sound of footsteps has you freezing in place. You turn your head and see him. He does not look at you, either of you in fact. Simply placing a book back on the shelf and grabbing another. “Aemond wait i-” He does not turn to you as you speak. You watch as he merely begins to walk away. You almost run after him, but you feel so stuck in your place. He heard that. He had to have. You cant even be bothered to care that everything you have worked so hard for might have just been crumbled when the only thing you can think about is how he must feel.

He laid his heart before you and you have done nothing but squash it like a bug. Maybe it was a trick maybe it wasn’t but you can’t help but fear it was. Maybe you should hope it wasnt for you cant imagine how hurt he would feel should he has been genuine. You should hope he is exactly how your father pictures him to be. The aemond you know of the future. The evil man who murdered your brother and calls your bastards at every breath. Though deep down you know he is not.

You cannot breath. The air escaping you as you stumble your way to the table and stare at the wood as your head spins. You sit down in one of the chairs as you look at your father with worried eyes. He runs his hand along his jaw and he shakes his head. He does not know what to do. And neither do you.

Your wedding festivities start tomorrow if there even is still to be a wedding at all now. He has the proof he needs to go to his mother and she would swiftly put a stop to this as she has been dying to do. Would you be kicked out of the keep? would all your efforts be in vain? Would he hate you? if he didnt before he must now. He must despise you. For tricking him and rightfully so. You are a monster. But a monster who had been in the right. Everything you are doing is for your family. But your heart aches for him as you press your head against the cold wood of the table.

“We are royally fucked.”

You cannot disagree with him.

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #house of the dragon #aemond smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemondtargaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd #prince aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader

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solkara · 6 months ago

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❛ 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌'𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃 , lucerys velaryon ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , that fateful day at storms end the velaryon boy indeed had someone watching over him but not in the skys above but the waters below

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , lucerys velaryon x fem! siren! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , okie so, this is my first hotd fic and omg I'm so excited!! hope you guys like it cuz ngl kinda obsessed with this concept cuz justice for bbg luke ya'll </3

house of the dragon masterlist

⌗ it's was another stormy day in storm's end. but there was something lingering in the air. a certain air of uncertainty that left you on edge for whatever reason. as if you were waiting for something to happen. though this didn't bother you much as being a siren was full of uncertainty from hunters to being spotted by humans.

⌗ though this didn't mean you weren't careful. as you were always ready to make you escape if you were under threat. though storm's end had become a haven for you. a place shrouded in stormy weather and dark mist with no shortage of food whether it be fish or human. with massive cliff faces that spanned as far as the eye could see and a vast labyrinth of underground sea tunnels. it was truly paradise to you.

⌗ and besides borros baratheon being an oaf and the odd few sailors who would drunkenly sing love songs which sounded eerily similar to a dying duck in an attempt to woo 'the siren of storm's end' life was peaceful. that was until the dragons came.

⌗ you had never seen a dragon before. you had heard of them of course and the house that wielded them. it was hard not to as sailors talked about them almost as much as they talked about sirens. but the fear of dragons was far more real to them. as no sane siren would let a human see them and live to tell the tale.

⌗ now normally in an instance like this you would have dived into deep water or slipped into one of the underwater caves until the incident blew. but something compiled you to watch. and you did with piqued interest. as you watched the smaller dragon flea from the behemoth that stalked him from above. it was clear the two dragons were far from friends.

⌗ and you held your breath as you watched the larger dragon rip the smaller in half with ease. sending both the dragon and his rider plummeting into the water below with nothing to break their fall. as the remains of the chewed-up dragon began to sink so too did his barely conscious rider.

⌗ he looked like an angel. with a halo of dark hair pale skin big dark eyes and a painfully innocent face. as he sank deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea. you couldn't help but admire him for a brief moment. and debated if he should be your dinner or not. though you ultimately decided against it.

⌗ quickly springing into action. you swam towards him. tail slicing through the water creating ripples in the process. grabbing his hand you dragged him to the surface of the water. holding him securely in your arms you couldn't help but silently hope that he wasn't coherent enough to know what was going on. as if he did you would definitely have to kill him.

⌗ as you pulled him to the rocky shore. you lay him on his back as you place your ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat. thank god he wasn't dead. but now you were unsure of what to do. should you just leave him here? or?

⌗ and just as you were debating with yourself about what to do. the boy began to violently cough up sea water. as he lurched forward with arms clasped around his stomach. before looking directly at you before speaking in what felt like a mixture of a tired mumble and a plea for help he said.

⌗ "I want my muña" and with that he passed out again out of his exhaustion. now from those few words he spoke you could deduce a few things. one he was either a targaryen or velaryon as they were the only house that spoke high valyrian. and two he wanted his mother and you would do your damnedest to help him get back to her.

⌗ as you sat next to the sleeping boy you though of your next plan of action. as you weren't too familiar with all of the house of the realm and where they resided. but you decided it would be easier to leave him at dragonstone. as it was the closest to you and was also the castle of house targaryen.

⌗ and with that you set off with the boy in your grasp. as you raced though the water under the cover of night. reaching dragonstone as the first peeps of the sun made it's way over the horizon. as you lay the boy on the shore in a place where he could be easily found.

⌗ as you turned to leave you felt a hand gently grab yours and a soft voice ask. "will I see you again?". and all you could do was softly smile at the boy who struggled to keep his eyes open as sleep threatened to envelop him as you waited for his eyes to close again before slipping out of his grip and disappearing into the water of the dark sea.

⌗ when lucerys velaryon woke from his slumber he was on the shores of dragonstone. he was confused about how he got here. his mind was a blurry mess. and then he remembered. aemond. vahgar. drowning. the girl who saved him. so many questions and yet no answers. as he sat next to the water all he could seem to remember were her piercing eyes and....a tail.

⌗ fast forward till this day long after the coronation of his mother the queen rhaenyra. and still till this day the lord of driftmark still tells everyone a siren saved him that fateful day at storm's end. and every sunrise he waits by the water. waiting for a chance to say thank you to the girl he owed his life to.

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gladiatorcunt · 9 months ago

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summary: king!aegon ii targaryen x afab rhaenyra’s child!reader

cw: CANON TYPICAL incest/targcest, boot worship, free use, public, voyeurism/exhibitionism (non con on the guards part 💀), hints of reader being just as much of a weirdo i’m sorry (rhaenyra can’t blame them tho), used a valyrian translator so if there’s any mistakes no there’s not <3, fucking on the iron throne as a celebratory end of work day thing, everything is 100% consensual on reader’s part, one use of “whore”, aegon’s pet names are all food related 🥴 (deadass almost had him call reader beer for the joke)

wc: 888 (🎱✨)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

last hotd fic for a bit bc i’m out of ideas

kinktober masterlist

“Ry paktot, ilagon ao jikagon, jorrāelagon (all right, down you go love).”

You and your uncle Aegon have the strangest end of day ritual. It always starts with you being shoved on your knees, his hands cradling your shoulders to protect you from the sharp iron throne.

All others are sent away from the room, save for a few guards that had been eyeing your body far too much for his liking. You were yet to be married but numerous whispers of your sexual exploits ran through the castle like wildfire. Aegon II Targaryen, was a king that one could not even sneeze in front of for fear of setting him off. So he is careful to keep those shrews' musings away from you, it was a feat of strength to coerce you into being as bold as you are now.

“Come now, elilla (honey). Clean my shoes so i can give your cunt the fucking it deserves.” He orders you, and you are all too eager, especially with the eyes of the uncomfortable guards on you.

You pray to the Gods that Aegon does not catch them looking with their peripheral vision, pausing your fun to murder more of the staff would really rain on your parade.

The shoes of your king are cleaned before you put your tongue to them, something that you’re almost disappointed by at this point. You are tempted to ask him to turn away the shoe shiner for next time.

His crown has the same red haze surrounding it that lives deep within Aegon, and it commands your attention all the same. You let your eyes softly fall shut as you run your wet tongue along the edge of his boot. The metallic tang has become an old friend, as well as any paltry specs of blood you find. You fear that you could possibly develop a craving for it.

You prostrate yourself before your betrothed as if you were a humming bird that had come face to face with Balerion himself. A house kitten mewling for the attention of a tiger. It is not unlike performing a blow job. Your lashes become the sheer curtains you look out of and your mouth fulfills its purpose.

You flatten your tongue and begin to dip into the crevices, getting every inch of his shoes slick with your spit. Aegon has his weeping cock in the firm hold of both of his hands, and he times his strokes to every flick of your tongue.

Your “services” last for what feels like an eternity. Your uncle’s eyes wander to keep the forcibly voyeuristic guards in check. You can hear their feet shuffling on the ground as they squirm behind you, and Aegon is so pleased by this that he returns his attention to his beloved pet.

“Prūbres (apple), that is quite enough. Come back up, darling.” He says while gingerly rubbing the heel of his boot into your cheek.

“Yes, qȳbor (uncle).”

You clamor into his lap, taking the initiative by lifting your previously stretched hole over his cock. One of his hands claws into the flesh of your hip to steady you, and the other positions his cock upright. Once you get past the pink tip, your walls are snugly wrapped around his entire length in seconds. You both groan as he bottoms out. Aegon wastes no time and digs his nails into your other hip, lifting you off of his cock until the tip catches against your entrance and swiftly dropping you back down.

“My whore, a jewel worth more than any found in my crown.” The word comes out between gritted teeth, but the thumb drawing loose circles on your pearl is kinder. “Not one of those filthy dogs will ever know the pleasure of a cunny as sweet as the one made for me.”

“They will not.” You whined, relishing in the red marks his nails were no doubt leaving on your jiggling ass as you bounced on his girthy cock. “Only you, qȳbor (uncle), only my king. They could hang for all I care.”

You have an awful habit for letting words flow from your mouth with no thought of their consequences. It’s not your fault though, you muse as Aegon scratches at your moving globes of flesh, your cunt takes priority more often than not. You ignore the spark that ignites in his soul at the foolish declaration.

His thumb stops teasing your clit and rubs it harshly up and down until your rapid bouncing ceases in favor of chasing that high. He only has to spank you a single time for you to shatter around his cock with an angelic and blissfully soft moan. You let your torso fall to his and you bury your face in his neck as his other hand travels to grope your other ass cheek.

Aegon spills into you with an embarrassingly long and loud groan, licking at the pulse point of your neck as he fucks himself into overstimulation. This is the only time he will allow the guards to drink your sex in, so they can gawk at the pure amount of spend that leaks out of your ravaged cunny. He pretends not to notice or enjoy the stares, spreading your fat cheeks to give them a better view.

“Leave us be.”

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ichorai · 2 years ago

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water dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)

the sequel to little dragon!

pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader

synopsis ; aemond loved his wife and his children more than anything. to lose one of them... that would bring nothing but war to the seven kingdoms.

words ; 10.3k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), heavy angst, established relationship (married), parents au

warnings / includes ; major character death (please proceed with caution), blood & cheese, descriptions of violence/blood, unprotexted sex scenes, sex in the rain, jealous!aemond, foul language, you and aemond have three children (syraena, kyrion, myra), cameos of the rest of the hotd characters, syraena experiencing gender dysphoria :( aemond being a good father/husband (most of the time), kyrion is a dragon dreamer, aegon being gross and touching you inappropriately, so sorry if the valyrian isn't completely correct </3 the timeline for this fic is a bit shifted so that king viserys dies a couple years later than he does in the show (so the children have more time to grow) lots & lots of foreshadowing !! there will be a part three.

main masterlist.

A dull, heavy thud resounded across the training yard when Criston swung his morningstar at Aemond yet again, its thick spikes missing his cheek by a hair’s breadth as he gracefully spun away, the ball landing onto the ground. Before his mentor could strike him again, Aemond darted around him in the blink of an eye, slanting the longsword’s blade against Criston’s throat.

“If we were enemies on a battlefield, you would be dead,” the Prince murmured.

The Dornish knight raised his hands in surrender. “Then I am grateful we are neither enemies nor at battle.”

With a hum, Aemond let the sword retreat back to his side, turning to place it back on the weapons rack. Only, he found his gaze falling on a small girl amongst the onlookers, her e/c eyes wide, curious, and eagerly dark.

“Syraena? What are you doing here?” he asked his eldest daughter, striding up to her and staring her down with the most stern expression he could muster. It was an hour past noon, and that meant she was supposed to be at her embroidery lessons with the Septa. Or perhaps it was dancing lessons? Aemond couldn’t quite recall. Either way, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Upon further inspection, he noted that her wispy hair was far shorter and more scraggly than usual, small bits of silver strands littered over her scrawny shoulders.

“What did you—did you cut your hair?” Aemond accused, his single eye narrowing as he knelt down in front of her. “Gods, your mother is going to have my head.”

“Do you like it, Kepa?” Syraena replied, wildly ruffling the short silver tendrils with a wide smile. “I found a sharp shard of glass by that broken window beside the mess hall… and I cut my hair with it!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aemond blew out a long, exasperated sigh. Though this wasn’t the first time Syraena had startled her parents, prone to impulsive recklessness, it didn’t make her proclivities any less hard on Aemond’s heart. “Darling, that is wildly careless. Don’t ever do that again, you understand me? Come on—you shouldn’t be here, your mother must be worried to death searching for you.”

Swiftly, he wound his arms around the six year-old, lifting her up so she would sit over his waist. Of course, Syraena being Syraena, pulled a sour face and began reaching out for Criston, who was observing on with an amused expression.

“But I want to watch you spar!” she complained, twisting in his grasp and kicking at his stomach. Aemond had to bite down on his tongue to swallow his groan of pain, but he held onto her tight nonetheless. “Kepa, let me down! Let me go!”

“You should be in your lessons,” Aemond chastised, striding up the winding stairs back into the Keep.

Pouting, Syraena let herself flop limply against Aemond’s shoulder. “I hate lessons. I hate the Septa. I hate being a girl.”

Raising a brow, Aemond glanced down at her before softly patting the back of her head. Though he hadn’t a clue what it was like to be a woman in Westeros, he could understand her feeling of not belonging amongst others who seemed to belong so easily. Syraena never got along with other girls her age, who were often afraid of her callousness and her tempestuous nature. In that respect, Aemond supposed his daughter was just like him.

“I’m sorry, my sea dragon. Perhaps I’ll let the Septa know that you no longer wish to dance.”

“And embroider!”

“Hm. That, as well.”

Syraena grinned widely—her curved lips reminiscent of yours.

“Kepa?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t tell mother I cut my hair,” she whispered, eyes shining with worry.

It was hard for Aemond to suppress his smile. “I’m sure she’ll notice regardless of whether I tell her or not, darling,” he gently told her.

Her expression dropped. “I didn’t mean to cut it this short. I just don’t like my long hair.”

“You’re very beautiful either way, Syraena,” he easily replied, before stopping in front of his chambers, where he knew you were watching over their baby daughter. “Alright. You go on inside—I’ll go speak to your Septa.”

He set his daughter down on her feet. She loitered by the door, dragging her feet glumly.

With a bark of a laugh, Aemond nudged her forward. “Go on. Your mother won’t be angry. Not that much, at least.”

Aemond’s only son, Kyrion, was a quiet boy. Only five years of age, born less than eleven moons after Syraena, he was already of greater intelligence than most far older than him, growing a knack for reading and drawing. The maesters would often express that his mind was developing much quicker than what was deemed normal.

Not only that, but he was quite handsome, as well, with strikingly sharp features akin to his father, and a head of snow-white curls. His eyes were a pale shade of purple, always distant and clouded over with thought. From as soon as he began to talk, Kyrion often spoke in strange, twisted riddles, mystifying both you and Aemond to no end.

King Viserys, as sickly as he was, had claimed him to be a dragon dreamer. Alicent had hushed him then, thinking he was on another one of his senseless rambles, and gently asked the two of you to step out so he could get some rest.

Now, as Aemond sat with his son in the library, he pondered the possibility of it all. Perhaps Kyrion had a divine gift—the ability to see glimpses of the future. He would have to speak with you about it, see what you thought first.

Even if it were true, Aemond didn’t want to put any kind of unnecessary pressure on his son. Kyrion was only five, after all, no matter how startlingly intelligent he was.

“And what does this say?” He tested the boy, tapping his finger against the dusty Valyrian book.

Immediately, Kyrion replied in his soft, far-away voice, “Zaldrīzoti mērī ipradagon parklon. Dragons only eat meat.”

“Hm. Good.”

“It should be more specific,” said Kyrion, hands fidgeting beneath the table. “Dragons only eat cooked meat.”

A ghost of a proud smile hovered over Aemond’s lips. “That is correct—this book is old, from a time before maesters were able to record accurate, detailed information about dragons.”

Kyrion didn’t reply, flipping the worn, yellowed page.

“What does this mean?” he eventually asked, pointing at an unfamiliar word.

Aemond glanced over at the book, before blanching, and cleared his throat hastily. The paragraph was depicting a few different maesters’ debates on the mating practices of dragons—a topic of which Aemond was not too keen on broaching with his five year-old son.

“Mmh… nothing of importance. Keep on reading, my water dragon. You’re doing very well.”

Blinking up at him with his large, pale violet eyes. He seemed to sense his father’s discomfort, so he let the matter drop, returning his attention to the book. Aemond blew out a relieved breath—he’d surely have to tell you about this later tonight.

Myra Targaryen, the youngest of Aemond’s children at three years of age, was a sweet little girl with a soft heart, always wearing a gentle smile. She loved all things in nature, and had a near unbearingly kind soul. She loved singing and dancing, a stark contrast to Syraena, who turned her nose away at such activities. At times Aemond wondered how Myra could possibly be his kin, for she was far too pure and he was… certainly not.

Unlike her sharp-faced siblings, Myra’s features were much softer and healthily plump. Her hair was a shade darker than them as well, the curls a silver-gold hue of blonde. Though Aemond was hoping for another daughter that bore your beautiful eye color, Myra was born with his dark purple irises, nearly blue in certain lighting.

As you had left to soak in a bath, Aemond had taken it upon himself to put his river dragon to sleep, tucking her beneath a fleece blanket and brushing her flaxen away from her drooping eyelids, heavy with exhaust from the day.

“Ēdrū sȳrī, Myra,” he whispered, brushing a kiss upon her forehead. Sleep well.

“Night-night, Kepa,” she responded, grinning sleepily, dimples indenting her chubby cheeks. “Today I saw a butterfly in the gardens!”

“Mmh, was it a large butterfly?”

“No. It was very small—smaller than my hand! I named it Hūra, because it was white, like the moon.”

Finding her grin contagious, Aemond felt a smile flicker over his usually stoic demeanor. “A lovely name. Your Aunt Helaena loves butterflies, as well. Perhaps you can tell her all about Hūra tomorrow.”

Myra enthusiastically nodded, before sitting up against her feather-pillows, reaching up to her father to press a sweet kiss against his scar, just below his eyepatch.

By the Gods, he could nearly feel tears prick the corner of his vision, but he managed to subdue them for a minute, not wanting to weep in front of his young daughter, lest she grew worried for him.

“I like Kepa’s scar,” she mumbled as she settled back down to go to sleep. “How did you get it?”

Aemond was silent for a long while, unsure of what to tell her. “An accident,” he simply replied.

“Does it hurt?”

It did, at times. Not as often as it used to, but there were instances he could still feel phantom pains throbbing behind the leather patch. “Not anymore,” he lied, voice quiet.

If Myra had any other questions, she didn’t get the chance to ask them, already drifting off into slumber.

Aemond hummed, before rising onto his feet, making his way out of her chambers. To his surprise, you were hovering by the doorway, arms crossed and affection written plainly over your expression.

“I just put Kyrion to bed,” you whispered, leaning into his touch when he cradled your face with his palms with a quiet greeting. “He was speaking in riddles again—something about a deal with a stag?”

The two of you began making your way down the hall, to your shared chambers. “Stag?” he asked. “Baratheons?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, sighing. “I worry for him.”

Aemond slipped into the room after you, shutting the door behind him. He gathered you in his arms, capturing your lips with his in a chaste kiss. When he pulled away, he studied your concerned features—just as beautiful as the day he’d met you.

“We’ll be fine, dōna embar,” he reassured you, leading you to bed with a protective hand resting over your lower back. You loosely smiled at the nickname—sweet sea. “The dragon-trouts are strong. No house, stag or otherwise, could ever lay a hand on them.”

Instead of responding, you kissed him again, your nose bumping against his in your haste. The both of you laid down on the tall mattress, the promise of sleep whispering sand into your ears.

Before you could fall into a dreamless rest, however, Aemond quietly murmured, “I’m assuming Syraena didn’t tell you she cut her hair with a shard of glass she found by a broken window. Kyrion also asked about mating practices whilst we were in the library. And Myra wanted to know how I got my scar.”

Startled at the sudden barrage of information, you abruptly sat up, eyes wide, sleep suddenly the very last thing on your mind. “What?”

The next morning was dreary.

It was a rare thing for rain to grace the capital, as it was usually arid and warm. But the skies were grey and thunderous, miniscule pinpricks of water beginning to fall from the dark clouds. You stood on your chamber’s balcony, enjoying the cooler temperatures and the light drizzles dampening your skin, your hair, your sleeping shift. It’d been several moons since it last rained—compared to your original home, the Riverlands, King’s Landing simply paled in comparison. How you missed the feeling.

Aemond, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the change in weather. He stepped out to join you, one of his spindly hands reaching out to grasp the damp fabric around your waist, the other moving upward to tilt your chin so you’d look at him.

“How beautiful you are, ābrazȳrys,” he whispered, trailing kisses down from the corner of your lips to your jaw. The Valyrian word for wife was uttered with an extra husky tone. “The hour is quite early—the children are still fast asleep.” There was a rough, needy scratch to his voice, indiscreetly conveying his lustful intentions.

With a wanton grin, you replied breathily, “Fuck me in the rain, Aemond. Fuck me until I can’t wa—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond was already shoving you up against the stone railing, his hot mouth slanted desperately over yours. You kissed him back with just as much vigor, curling one of your legs around his waist. Already, you could feel his length hardening, pressing against your lower stomach.

You moaned lewdly into his mouth when the hand that had been under your chin snaked further downwards to grasp at your breasts through the drenched shift, his nimble fingers pinching at your sensitive peaks. His other hand relinquished his grasp on your waist, slipping beneath the fabric between your thighs and running a finger through your folds. The action made you cry out, grasping his forearms for dear life.

“You’re already drenched for me,” Aemond susurrated, pulling away from your lips, which you had chased after with a sigh, littering kisses against your bobbing throat. “Ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love.

“Please, Aemond,” you croaked, needing more. “Please, I need you inside me.”

With a hum, Aemond swiftly shoved your damp shift up to bunch around your waist, leaving your lower half completely bare for him.

“Who am I to deny you, embar?” he whispered, biting the outside of your ear, before slowly sliding his leaking, throbbing length into your cunt. “Fuck! Mmh—you take me so well, sweet wife.”

Slowly, he began rocking into you, prideful at the way you rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Your shift, clinging against you like a second skin thanks to the rain, made the motions of your heaving, bouncing breasts all the more enticing. He ducked his head to freckle kisses over your chest as he thrust into you, murmuring praises into the wet fabric.

A clap of thunder drowned out the obscene noises the both of you were making.

Wildly, Aemond tore himself out of you, extinguishing the fiery complaints on the tip of your tongue by turning you over and pushing your stomach into the railing, so you could face the city. You were far too high up for anyone to clearly see, but the thrill of it was there, nonetheless.

Your husband slid back into you with a deep groan and a string of curses, sloppily pounding you from behind as he neared his peak. He wound an arm around you to languidly stroke at your pulsing clit, which had you bucking back into him with a surprised choke of his name.

It wasn’t long until you collapsed against him, your cunt clenching around his cock like a vice, white stars bursting out in front of your vision. Not too soon after, Aemond spilled himself within you, his hot cum dripping out of your core and down your thighs, panting against your shoulder.

“Mmh,” you moaned once he slowly pulled out, so as to not overwhelm you with overstimulation. “I do hope it rains in King’s Landing more often.”

“If it leads to more of this, then so do I,” Aemond replied, turning you around with gentle touches to kiss you soundly. “For now, how does a hot bath sound?”

Myra’s shrieks of laughter echoed across the large chambers as she clumsily ran away from Syraena, who was enacting a large, hungry dragon searching for her prey.

“Kepa, help me!” she screamed, scrambling to hide behind her father’s legs. Amused, Aemond picked up his youngest girl, setting her on his hip. His eldest clung to his shin, forcing Aemond to drag the both of them across the room as they squealed in delight.

“Faster!” Syraena ordered. Aemond made a mental note to tell Criston he was most likely going to be late for training today, knowing his girls probably wouldn’t let go of him for the next few hours.

On the other side of the chambers, you sat by your son next to the fireplace, sipping on a chalice of spiced apple cider. Kyrion was sprawled out on the expensive chaise, the corner of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on drawing on a piece of parchment with a coal-tipped pencil.

“Mother, look,” he said, pulling your attention away from your husband and the excited girls. The paper was pushed onto your lap, covered with black smudges and hastily drawn lines. “This is what I see in my dreams.”

You blinked, studying the drawings closer. “What is it, honey? Are those trees?”

His white hair flew every which way as he vehemently shook his head. His small hand pointed at the six figures, hovering a few inches above the uneven ground. “Those are people. They didn’t bend the knee.”

Horror’s dark fingers wrapped around your heart, and you reared back to stare at your son. “Kyrion, what is this? You… have you seen this?”

His pale violet eyes met your terrified ones. “In my dreams,” he repeated, voice soft and tame, as if he hadn’t just drawn a picture of six lords hanging from the gallows. “You don’t have dreams like those?”

Still in shock, you shook your head, mute.

Kyrion studied you for a moment longer, before grabbing another sheet of paper to start drawing again. “You’re lucky, mother. Sometimes I feel it.”

“Why is that, Kyrion? What else do you feel?”

The little boy shrugged. “The milk curdles, the blood spills.” He fell quiet after that, clearly done with the conversation.

Struggling for words, you blew out a long breath, before looking back at the parchment. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his head, patting down his short white curls, before standing up and making your way to Aemond, his drawing in hand. Myra had somehow ended up on his shoulders, yelling for help as Syraena jumped around, trying to catch her little sister’s flailing feet.

“Mama,” the young river dragon cried, reaching out to you with tearful purple-blue eyes. “Syraena bit me!”

True to her word, there were shallow teeth marks imprinted in her chubby shin. Syraena grinned at her handiwork, looking none too apologetic.

“Aemond!” you sharply reprimanded, which made your husband flinch at the sudden attention, puzzled as to why the blame was placed on him instead of Syraena. “Gods, did you just stand by and watch as your daughters mauled each other?”

“I was outnumbered, darling. They are vicious little things, our girls,” Aemond lightly replied, letting go of the golden-haired girl so she could cling onto you, sobbing into your neck. At your stern expression, Aemond added on, “Syraena, say sorry to your sister.”

With a quick tongue, she quickly said with years of rehearsed practice, “Sorry, Myra. Can I come watch you train now, Kepa?”

Before he could reply, you stepped in. “Ah-ah, Syraena. You need to go to the Septa and apologize for running away from your lessons yesterday. You may be excused from embroidery and dancing, but that doesn’t give you the right to be rude.”

Glum, Syraena glanced at her father, who only beckoned her along. “Listen to your mother.”

With a heavy exhale, the silver-haired girl stomped out of the room to do as she was bid.

You traced your hand along the bite mark on Myra’s leg. “It’s not too bad, sweetheart. Go on—go ask your brother if you can draw with him.”

Sniffling, Myra slid down from your arms and waddled off to sit by Kyrion, who wordlessly scooched over to make space for his little sister.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, noting the worry in your expression. The once light-hearted atmosphere seemed to dissolve away in an instant.

Pursing your lips, you handed over the drawing.

“Kyrion said he saw this in his dreams. People hanging… he said they didn’t bend the knee,” you whispered.

Aemond studied the coal-streaked parchment, eye narrowed. “Perhaps that’s all it was… just a dream.”

“Or it could be a vision. Your father said it himself—our son is a dragon dreamer,” you responded, gripping his forearm. “Aemond, I’m worried that war is upon us. Sooner than we think it is.”

There was little Aemond could truthfully say to comfort you, and so he simply drew you close, breathing in your homely scent—pleasantly noting that he could still smell the rain on you.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured sincerely. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or our family. I’ll keep you safe.”

Blinking away the tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you pressed your nose against his throat. “I’m not sure you’d be able to, husband. Not in a war for the iron throne. Nobody is safe from that.”

Your law-sister, Helaena, had always harbored a gentle, sweet soul—a direct opposite to her brother and husband, Aegon. The very thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, made to squeeze out heirs for a monster of a man was already nightmarish enough… you couldn’t fathom what it was like for Helaena to endure such a life. Nonetheless, she was often as happy as one could be, dreamily smiling and murmuring unintelligible words to herself.

That evening you found yourself having tea with her, listening to her speak about the strange weather and the bugs she had found washed up in the gardens due to the rain.

“Many worms, yes,” she mumbled, fiddling with a wooden carving of a cockroach. “Worms and drowned ants. Ants and drowned worms. Beetles, as well, yes.”

You smiled, glancing at her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, playing with yours—though Kyrion wasn’t really playing with his cousins, more just standing in the shadows and silently watching his sisters play with them. He truly was a copy of his father, after all.

“The poor creatures,” you surmised. “Rid of their homes and families just because of a bit of rain.” A bit of guilt twinged within your chest—just earlier today, you had told Aemond you wished for it to rain more.

“Oh, it’s not all that bad,” Helaena hummed, looking up at you with a mild grin. “Death gives way to more life. There will soon be new worms, new ants, new beetles. It’s simply the way of nature.”

You nodded, setting down your teacup. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a shame that it has to happen in the first place.”

To your surprise and none of Aemond’s, all the childrens’ dragon eggs hatched within their cradles. They were growing larger and larger every day, being looked after by the dragon keepers before the children could ride them.

Today, Aemond took them down to the Dragon Pit, where his children were going to bond with their respective beasts. You were invited to come, as you always were when Aemond went off on his excursions with the kids, but you had wrinkled your nose and turned back to your book.

“I have no taste for stinking of dragon today, thank you,” you curtly replied, grinning down at your book. “Don’t you think Myra is a bit too young to bond with her dragon? She’s only three.”

“It doesn’t hurt to get acquainted,” he swiftly replied, before bending at the waist to slant a sweet kiss to your hairline, before taking his leave to head out of his chambers and wrangle his kids down to the Pit.

They were excited to go, Syraena most especially, practically sprinting down the corridors. He called out after her to slow down, but she paid him no mind.

The Dragon Pit smelled of smoke and charred meat and something distinctly dragon.

Keepers brought out the three dragonlings, playfully nipping at each other’s wings and yipping as if they were young pups.

The largest of the trio was named Aerion—Syraena’s dragon. He was a slender beauty, with shining black scales and sharp, crimson wing membranes. With the Keeper’s nod, Syraena confidently marched forward, stroking her dragon’s head, a toothy grin plastered across her lips. Aerion seemed to purr beneath her touch, plumes of grey smoke falling from his nostrils.

Next to come forward was Kyrion’s dragon, his rippling scales a dark shade of green and sharp eyes a molten amber. “Tyvaros,” Aemond heard his son mumble his dragon’s name. “Tyvaros.” A bit more timid, Kyrion hesitantly stepped forward and, with the Keeper’s approval, he reached out for the small green dragon. He was the calmest of the three, leaning forward to gently nudge his head against Kyrion’s shoulder.

The smallest of the hatchlings was Goldentooth, a pale, cream-hued dragon with aureate spikes running down her back and along her tail. She was Myra’s to claim, having been the very last to hatch.

“Go on, Qelbar.” He gently nudged his flaxen-haired daughter forward. River, he affectionately called her. “Don’t you want to bond with her?”

Myra nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“I can’t see a reason why she wouldn’t like you,” he calmly responded, patting her back. “Your brother and sister are getting along with their dragons just fine. It took me a long time to bond with a dragon, as well. You’ll get there, eventually.”

His words seemed to instill some courage into her, and so she shuffled along to the last Keeper, murmuring hello to her dragon. It wasn’t long until the fear subsided, and the small dragon was already climbing all over her arms and shoulders.

After an hour of bonding, the Keepers were hoarding the dragons further down into the Pit for feeding, and in turn, Aemond took the children back up into the Keep. They all stank of dragon, something you definitely weren’t going to be happy with, but had wide smiles on their faces nonetheless.

There was a hearing carried out on the subject of the heir to Driftmark (which was settled in an unsettlingly gorey manner, courtesy of Daemon Targaryen), which meant Princess Rhaenyra and her sons were back in King’s Landing for quite a while, to Aemond’s displeasure. You, on the other hand, bore no ill-will to the Princess, and were rather excited for the royal dinner to be held the next day.

The night after Vaemond’s beheading, Kyrion had tugged on your skirts and asked if you could accompany him to the library so he could return his book.

“Alright,” you told him with a small smile. “But we must be quick about it—the hour grows late, and I can see how sleepy you are.”

The purple-eyed boy nodded, taking your hand as the two of you made your way down the dark corridors, to the library. When the both of you turned the corner, you nearly ran straight into Lucerys, jumping back in surprise.

“Oh, Gods! My apologies, my Princes,” you exclaimed, flustered at the sudden appearance of Rhaenyra’s sons. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Lucerys tilted his head. “No need to apologize, Lady Tully.”

“Targaryen. Tully is my maiden name—I’m married to Prince Aemond now,” you gently corrected.

“Evidently so,” said Jace, glancing at your son with a polite smile. “This must be my little cousin. Kyrion, isn’t it?”

The white-haired boy stared up at him with his pale eyes. “Ice and fire. Arrows and seas. Pacts and death. I saw you in my dreams.”

“Kyrion,” you hastily reprimanded, mortified that your son was speaking of death in front of Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son, gathering the small boy up in your arms. “Sorry, he must be tired. It’s his bedtime—”

“He doesn’t look much like you, does he?” Lucerys observed, finding it eerily strange to be staring at a little boy that was a near carbon copy of the bane of his childhood.

Brows furrowing, you hesitantly replied, knowing the stale animosity between him and your husband, “I… I suppose not, my Prince. He takes after his father. My daughters, too.”

“Ah, then we must arrange to meet them. I’m sure your children would enjoy playing with my little brothers, Aegon and Viserys. They must be around the same age,” said Jace in an amicable manner.

Before you had a chance to respond, a familiar voice spat, “And why, pray tell, do you think I would ever allow my children near you and your filthy kin?”

Aemond appeared from out of the shadows, features set in one of cold fury. Both Jacaerys and Lucerys took a step back, shoulders stiffening. They had seen him training earlier today—it didn’t go past their notice that he had become incredibly skilled in combat over the years. In no way would either of them be a match for him.

Wary not to allow a fight to break out, you reached out to place a calming hand on his arm. “Aemond—” you gritted out.

“Leave us,” he growled.

Teeth gnashing together, you shook your head and whispered, “Aemond, I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”

“Take our son and go,” he said, more gently this time. To you, Jace and Luke were just boys—sweet boys with kind hearts. To Aemond, however, they were the monsters who took out his eye. They were a threat to him and his family’s safety.

Exchanging a worried glance between him and Jacaerys, who nodded at you to take your leave, you blew out a frustrated breath, before hastening away with Kyrion in your arms. It seemed the two of you would have to take a trip to the library another day.

Lowering his voice, Aemond calmly told the two brothers, “Speak to my wife or my children again, and I’ll have the both of you fed to my dragon.”

Luke swallowed nervously, but Jace stood his ground.

“Is that all, Uncle?” he challenged, eyebrows cocked.

Aemond fixed a sharp glare on them, nose upturned. With an irritated grunt, he turned and strode off after you, leaving the two bastard boys stunned and mildly confused in his wake.

Once he had made sure his girls were safely tucked in their beds, Aemond paid his son a visit, sitting by his side.

“I apologize for interrupting your trip to the library, water dragon,” he murmured, patting down the boy’s messy white curls.

Kyrion chewed on his bottom lip in thought. “Why don’t you like them, Kepa?”

Aemond’s single eye searched his son’s gaze, completely sincere in his curiosity. “A story for another time, when you’re older,” he replied. “Your mother said you’ve been drawing what you see in your dreams. Can you tell me about them?”

“Which ones?” he asked.

The one-eyed man felt sick at the thought of his little boy having to watch a thousand lives pass by in his visions, most having to inevitably end in death. It was a curse to be a dragon dreamer, he thought with a grimace. A burden.

“Whichever you want to tell me about, tresy.” Son.

Kyrion’s pale eyes seemed to mist over, and he fixed his gaze on a random candle across the room. “I see you wearing a crown. You sit on the Iron Throne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

It seemed his son had mistaken Aemond’s befuddled expression for anger, as he shrank away from his father with a frown. “I’m sorry, Kepa. Don’t be angry with me.”

Aemond softened. “I’m not angry, Kyrion. I was just… shocked.”

Not all of Kyrion’s visions came true, did they? Aemond tried his best to wrack his mind for the dozens of times his mystic ramblings lead to nowhere.

“I also see mother sailing away on a ship with Syraena and Myra. She looks sad,” he quietly spoke. “I don’t like that dream very much. Can I go to sleep now, Kepa?”

Blowing out a small breath, Aemond mustered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his worried eye. “Yes, of course. Sleep well, little dragon.”

Hastily, he stood back up on his feet, blowing out the candles around Kyrion’s chamber, before striding out the door. His head was spinning with a million thoughts at once, his son’s wispy voice echoing within his mind.

A crown on his head. His wife and his girls on a ship. Seven hells… what was to become of his family?

Myra was humming a sweet song of summer, chubby cheeks rosy with the warm breeze that blew through the Godswood. She was seated in front of you over a yellow blanket situated on the ground. In your hands, you were weaving the little girl’s golden hair into an intricate braid, small wildflowers slotted in between the crevices.

A little ways away from the both of you, Syraena was running circles around the Weirwood tree, fighting off invisible enemies with a long, wooden stick she claimed to be her sword.

“There you go, darling,” you said, patting Myra’s shoulders once you were done. “Syraena, come here! I want to fix your hair!”

Your eldest girl huffed and puffed as she stomped over, her short silver strands sticking up every which way. “What’s there to fix?” she grumbled, plopping down in front of you.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t foolishly sliced it all off with a shard of glass, it wouldn’t resemble an uneven rat’s nest sitting upon your head,” you reprimanded.

Giggling, Myra clapped her hands. “Rat’s nest!” she parroted.

Syraena scowled. “It’s not fair. You let Kyrion have short hair. I want to be a boy, like him.”

“If you wanted short hair, you could’ve just asked. Lailena would have gladly cut it for you,” you said, brandishing a wooden comb to gently run it through Syraena’s thin silvery strands. “Do you want to know what your father said when I was first pregnant with you?”

Syraena shifted with a grimace as you yanked at a knot in her hair. “What?”

“He said he didn’t care whether you were a boy or a girl. That you were his blood, regardless. His tempestuous sea dragon,” you said with a small smile, mimicking a sour face at her nickname. “And Kyrion came next, our tranquil water dragon. Then lastly, Myra, our sweet river dragon.”

When you were done, you had Syraena turn around so you could inspect her hairline, brushing back any stray bits of hair that escaped your comb. “All finished. Beautiful, handsome… I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetling.”

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, nodding. “Can I go play knights with Jaehaerys now?”

“Go on,” you lightly nudged her away, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips, knowing full and well her hair was going to be all mussed in no less than half an hour of playing.

Before Syraena could get up and scramble away, however, a figure approached the three of you. She was clad in a black cloak, detailed with fine red thread in embroideries of flames and dragons. Golden jewelry decorated her pale skin, her long hair like sheets of pure snow.

The Princess Rhaenyra.

“Princess,” you breathily greeted, mind flashing back to last night, when you had bumped into her sons.

You were about to get up to bow, but Rhaenyra quickly said, “No need, Lady Y/N. My apologies, I wasn’t aware the Godswood was occupied. If you’d like to be alone—”

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright, Princess. It’s a space to be shared, after all,” you said with a courteous smile.

Rhaenyra studied you carefully, her purple eyes taking in your form. It was a strange thing, she thought. You were married to her half-brother, and mothered her childhood friend’s grandchildren. A childhood friend that was her friend no longer.

With you, however, perhaps the story could be different.

A genuine smile graced the Princess’ lips. “These are your girls?” she asked.

The taller and older of the two most certainly took after her father, with her sharp features and silver hair, though she bore your eyes and your smile. The younger was plump with a softer face, and had more blonde than white hair, her large eyes a deep shade of violet.

“Yes, this is Syraena, my oldest. And this is Myra,” you told her. “My son Kyrion is in the library at the moment, with his father.”

“His father,” Rhaenyra echoed quietly, voice distant. The memory of little Aemond in front of her, eye slashed out, and Luke cowering behind her with a bleeding, broken nose flashed into her mind. Clearing her throat, she reeled herself back into the present by saying, “Your children are very beautiful. Have you considered any potential suitors for them yet?”

Your eyes widened simultaneously as Syraena’s head whipped up to stare at you.

“No,” you replied, a tad too quickly. “I don’t think I’d want to subject them to that until they come of age. Or until they want to.”

The Princess tilted her head to the side with a mild laugh. “If your daughters were anything like me when I was a teenager, then you’d find the latter quite a challenge.”

“Yes, Queen Alicent has told me of your youth… how you rejected nearly all the contenders for your hand,” you replied. “I can’t say I could relate. Aemond was my first and only suitor.”

She hummed in thought. “I only asked because I just had my sons betrothed to their cousins.”

Right. Jacaerys and Lucerys were to wed Baela and Rhaena.

So that was why she asked. She wanted to know if Alicent was scheming, just as she had been. Betrothals and weddings were equivalent to political currency in times of war.

“I don’t plan on wedding my children off any time soon,” you reassured her. From the corner of your eye, you could see Syraena’s shoulders loosen up. The prospect of marriage was not one she was particularly interested in.

“I see,” Rhaenyra said, though her face was much more relaxed now than before. “I shall go wash myself before supper tonight. I look forward to seeing you there.”

With that, she turned to take her leave. Myra looked up at you with a toothy grin. “Can I come with you to supper?”

“It’ll be past your bedtime,” you said, rising to your feet and picking her up to place on your hip. “But I promise we can spend the entire day together before that. Come on, Syraena, I’ll drop you off at Jaehaerys’ room.”

That evening’s royal supper was a disaster.

It started off well enough, with several toasts from the adults, and an additional one from Jacaerys dedicated to his uncles and his cousins’ good fortune. The King gave one long, hunkering speech on unity and the togetherness of the dragon’s house, wheezing through his words all the way.

Only then did the feast begin, consisting of a large assortment of roasted meats and soups and plates of steaming bread. There were also cold platters of appetizers passed around, full of cheeses, figs, and grapes. Viserys had barely eaten a bite before he had to be escorted back to his chambers, past his point of exhaustion.

Aegon had spent most of the dinner tormenting Jace and Baela on their future marriage. When he grew bored of his nephew’s stoic demeanor, he turned to you, his good-sister. It was evident the Prince was quite drunk as he blathered on and on about the most trivial topics as you gingerly drank your hearty soup, though you didn’t have much of a stomach for it anymore.

The last of the toasts came from Helaena as she congratulated Baela and Rhaena on their betrothals, subtly dunking on her husband before she drank with a dreamy grin.

Not too long after, music started playing, a symphony of strings and bells, and Jace had offered his hand to Helaena, much to Aegon’s dismay.

In an effort to retaliate, Aegon leaned close to your ear, placing a hand on your thigh beneath the table. You had jerked away from his touch, glancing at Aemond, who sat on your other side.

“Care for a dance with me, good-sister?” He smelled of wine and a general foul dampness.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s quite alright, my Prince. I don’t think you’re in a state to dance with me.”

“Nonsense, Lady Y/N, I am as sound as the day I was born!” he drunkenly hiccuped, words slurring together. His hand found its way back to your thigh, fingers gripping tighter this time. You tried to yank your leg away, nearly standing up with the effort.

Sensing your discomfort, Aemond growled out, “Leave my wife alone, brother.”

The song drew to a close, and Helaena returned to her seat, beaming brightly.

“Or what?” Aegon cackled, clearly enjoying seeing his brother get riled up. Thankfully, his hand slipped away from your leg to grip another chalice of wine. “What will you possibly—”

Before he could finish, Jacaerys stood between you and Aegon, offering his hand.

“If I could have this dance, Lady Targaryen?” he asked, emphasizing the family name in memory of your correction last night. His expression bore one of concern, obviously coming here to offer you an escape from Aegon.

Sparing a glance to your husband, who had taken to silently bristling, you nodded once.

“Of course, my Prince,” you said, taking his hand. Much to your satisfaction, Aegon had looked like he was struck across the face.

Off the two of you danced—spinning and twirling and laughing the entire time. Aemond was never too fond of dancing during the celebrations, always cautious of the stares, much preferring to dance with you in the privacy of your own chambers. Watching you openly have such fun with Jacaerys, however, made jealousy coil tight within his abdomen. You were smiling so widely—a smile that he had the joy of seeing every morning. To see it elicited because of his bastard nephew kindled an envious, green flame inside him.

Then came the pig.

And Lucerys’ none-too-discreet giggling.

Something in Aemond snapped.

The music halted as he slammed his fists onto the table, and his wife hastily stopped dancing with Jacaerys to see what the commotion was.

Of course, Aemond simply couldn’t help himself. In front of the entire family, he called his nephews Strong boys.

Pandemonium broke out. Jacaerys had let go of you to storm forward and land a punch on your husband, which seemed not to affect him in the least, shoving the brown-haired boy to the ground.

Aegon, eager to join the chaos, had grabbed Lucerys by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him into a searing platter of fish. “A gift for the new Lord of Driftmark!” he announced with a wild, manic grin.

In the end, Daemon had been the one to put a stop to the scuffle, staring down Aemond with raised brows. With a frustrated hum beneath his breath, your husband stormed out of the mess hall, making his way upstairs to your shared chambers.

You scrambled out after him, lifting your skirts to give you space to run. It was improper to leave without bidding the rest of the family goodbye, but then again… nothing about the dinner had been proper at all.

Once you had rushed into the room, Aemond roughly slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it. His fingers were already undoing the laces on your back, his lips sealing shut over yours.

“Aemond,” you murmured against him, lightly pushing at his chest. “Stop, for just a minute.”

Your husband pulled back at your request, single violet eye ablaze.

“What… Gods, why would you do such a thing? Why would you go out of your way to torment them?”

“You know very well why,” he quietly gruffed, reaching behind to pull off his eyepatch, tossing it onto a small table by the door, the sapphire in place of his lost eye gleaming dully beneath the moonlight. Your lips parted to ask him something else, but he cut you off by gripping your chin, whispering in a possessive fashion, “Hush, ñuha dōna embar. Seven hells, you’re more beautiful than ever. And you’re all mine.” My sweet sea.

“Don’t hush me!” you hissed, brows knitting together. “Aemond, Jacaerys will one day be the crown prince when Rhaenyra ascends the throne. It is not wise to provoke them in such a manner.”

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Aemond stroked your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “They’re bastards, my love. The throne is not theirs to take. And my sister… the realm will not accept her as their ruler. You know this, jorrāelagon.”

“They swore an oath! Our families swore oaths to her. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on becoming an oathbreaker,” you reminded, softening beneath his touch. “Aemond, I don’t want to fight with you. I just don’t want you to do that again. If not for me, then for our children. Don’t go picking fights where it’s not needed.”

Aemond shut his weary eye. If Myra had seen him tonight, she would surely be afraid of him.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry. I got caught up in my anger.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, soft and gentle, and Aemond wasted no time in reciprocating, pressing you back against the door. Off came your dress and down came your styled hair with Aemond’s skilled fingers. In no time, Aemond had your legs wound around his waist, his coat unbuttoned and shirked off somewhere behind him. Your drenched core was pressed right against his throbbing length, rock hard and leaking with pearly beads of precum.

“I love you, more than anything, more than life itself,” he murmured against your throat, gently nipping at the skin there. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Aemond,” you moaned wantonly when one of his hands snaked down to thumb at your clit. “Please, I’m yours, please fuck me.”

With a satisfied hum, Aemond planted a deep kiss onto your parted lips, a groan rumbling from his chest when you bit into his bottom lip, eyes hooded. He lined his cock up, before sinking into you with one smooth motion, his forehead falling into the crook of your neck.

You held onto him for dear life when he began to rock into you, scratching faint crimson lines down his toned back. The pain seemed to only spur him on, and he shifted his angle to pound into you deeper, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the pleasure.

“Fuck!” he bit out. “So good, ābrazȳrys. Feels so good around me.”

He moaned when you clenched around him, his breath hitching when you slid your hands up into his hair and yanked with no abandon. In no time, he could feel you coming undone around him with a litany of colorful curses, shaking almost violently in his hold. In turn, Aemond came inside you with a shout of your name, rocking into you once, twice, thrice more.

Slow, he pulled out of you, watching the cum drip out of your spent cunt with great satisfaction. He kissed you sweetly, nose nudging against your cheek.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he softly said, carrying you across the room to set you down on the bed. “Go to sleep, love.”

“Mm, I love you,” you murmured. A ghost of a warm smile etched into the corner of his lips. He repeated the sentiment to you, but you had already drifted off to sleep before you could hear it.

King Viserys was dead. Rhaenyra and her children were gone, having flown back to Dragonstone earlier in the day.

And already, Aegon was to be crowned King.

You were none too happy about the turn of events, but you were to turn the cheek and play the part of the faithful wife, for the sake of your family and their safety. The lords who had refused to bend the knee to Aegon were either thrown in the dungeons or hanged, labeled as treasonous traitors to the realm. It was just like Kyrion had drawn, as he claimed to have seen in his dreams.

“A beast beneath the boards,” Helaena had constantly murmured, which frightened you to no end.

It was only worsened when Kyrion would reply with, “Bursting red, red in the sky, the sun in her mouth.”

Syraena was rupturing at the seams with a constant stream of questions—questions you had no such answers to. And your youngest daughter was crying the entire day, sensing the tense, fragile atmosphere. Your husband had gone to find Aegon in the slums of King’s Landing, who had unsurprisingly disappeared in thin air.

Not before long, he was dragged back into the Keep, and the coronation commenced above the Dragon Pit. The beast beneath the boards broke out only minutes after the crown was placed on his head. Hundreds of commoners and smallfolk were killed in the commotion. Princess Rhaenys rode her scarlet dragon, the Queen That Never Was mounted on the Red Queen of Dragons.

Aemond had shoved you back, protectively standing in front of you, though there was very little he could do. The both of you were immensely grateful the children were left in the castle with Lailena, safe from the chaos and the havoc. If you were to die today, you’d be dying in Aemond’s arms, knowing your children were safe for the time being—what better way was there to die?

But neither of you died that day, for Meleys had only screeched out a shrill warning, before clambering out of the Pit, and absconding to the clouds. Red in the sky.

Aemond had ushered you to the Keep, before hugging you tight in the secluded privacy of your chambers, genuinely terrified that he could’ve lost you.

The next day, he was already leaving again. He was to go to Storm’s End to broker a deal with Borros Baratheon: a marriage proposal between his brother Daeron and one of the Lord’s daughters. It seemed that betrothals truly were the realm’s political currency now.

“I want to come with you, Kepa,” Syraena said, staring up at her father with narrowed e/c eyes. “Let me come with you!”

Expression softening, Aemond ruffled her already-mussed hair. “It’ll be a quick trip. You can come to the next one, Syraena.”

The next goodbye was for his son, who hugged his father loosely. “An eye for a pearl,” he mumbled, too quiet for Aemond to hear.

Clutched to his leg, sobbing hysterically, was Myra, her cheeks damp and her dark, plum-hued eyes red-rimmed. “Oh, river, don’t cry for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

Finally, he turned to you, his hand on the back of your head as he kissed you, chaste yet passionate, and rested his forehead on yours. “Stay safe in here, my dear sea.”

“Storm’s End is wet and cold and… obviously stormy. Keep yourself warm. Don’t get struck by lightning, is all I ask, husband.”

“As you wish, love,” he whispered, before ducking his head to kiss your cheek. With a laugh, he pried his sweet girl away from his leg, lifting her up to chastely peck her forehead, and then handed her bawling form over to you. She was always this way when Aemond had to leave for longer than a day.

The four of you watched Aemond head out of the Keep. Unease roiled within your stomach with his absence.

“Three days for the pearl to wash ashore,” said Kyrion. There was a pallid tone to his skin, and he glanced at you with his large, pale eyes. “Mother, I’m scared.”

“Come,” you quickly said, ushering the children to their chambers. “Let’s go play with Auntie Helaena and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, yes?”

It was late the next night when Aemond returned. The moon glowed in a sliver of its regular size, the crescent unnaturally bright in the dark sky, void of any stars. You were standing out on the balcony, sleeping shift rustling with the warm wind when the doors behind you creaked open.

Rainwater dripped from his cloak as he stepped in.

Drip, drip, drip.

His single eye was wide and haunted, expression so far that it seemed like Aemond wasn’t even in the same room as you.

“Aemond?” you called out, stepping back into the chambers and crossing the room in quick strides to greet him. “Gods, you're sopping wet. Are you alright?”

It was as if he didn’t hear you, staring at the ground with parted lips. There was an unfamiliar, raw sort of terror blanketed over his features, you could see it clear as ever. Your brows indented together, and you reached out to softly graze your fingers along his damp face.

At the gentle touch, Aemond snapped his gaze to you. His hands were shaking.

Finding yourself at a loss for words, you roped him into an embrace, clutching his drenched form tightly against yours, uncaring that you were getting soaked in the process. This seemed to break him out of his reverie, as he began to tremble violently, and his chest thundered with silent sobs. His nose went directly to your neck and you hushed him with your free hand stroking the back of his head.

“Aemond, my love, what happened?” you asked again.

This time, he tried his best to answer you. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what, darling?”

“Vhagar didn’t listen to me. I tried to stop her,” he croaked, pulling his ashen face away from the junction of your neck, searching your comforting face frantically. “I… I killed him. I killed Lucerys.”

Your lips parted in shock. There was little you could find to say—for what could you tell your husband, now a kinslayer? No amount of comforting words could fix a situation such as this.

When Rhaenyra would inevitably find out about her son, war would rain down upon you and your family.

With a thick throat, you tightly hugged Aemond again, tears gracing the corners of your own eyes.

The days passed in a blur. Aemond was quieter than ever before, regret painted over his sharp features each and every time you glanced at him. Once he told his mother, she had nearly gone down the same manic spiral, but steeled herself to deal with the Green council.

When Aegon heard of his nephew’s death, he threw a large, grand feast, inviting all the Lords and Ladies at court.

Neither you nor Aemond attended.

The fourth night after Aemond had returned from Storm’s End, you were in Kyrion’s chambers, brushing away his ivory curls with tender hands as he settled beneath his fleece blanket to go to sleep. Aemond was putting the girls to bed by reading them a story, as the both of them were more restless than usual as of late.

“Kyr, baby, I have a question for you,” you said, voice soft and hesitant. Should you really be asking your son this? When Kyrion tilted his head in a silent motion for you to continue, you cleared your throat. “In your dreams… Did you see what happened to your cousin, Lucerys?”

Your son nodded once, biting at the inside of his cheek, a habit that he seemed to share with you.

Before you could ask him what he saw, there was a sudden, dull thud heard outside, followed by the familiar screech of steel. Fear wound its cold, dark hands around your pulsating heart.

The door flung open so quickly that the hinges whined in protest. Your eyes fell upon the two guards in front of Kyrion’s chambers, sprawled over the cobblestone floor, dark ichor leaking out of slit throats. Two looming figures stood in the doorway. One large and burly, the other short and thin as a twig.

You had no time to react, for a second later, the small one had darted forward, seizing you with surprising strength, brandishing coarse rope from thin air and binding your limbs together with tight knots, doing so with just one hand as his other was tightly sealing your mouth so you wouldn’t be able to scream for your husband, for more guards, for anyone. The other large man slammed the doors shut and barred them with one of his many swords he was carrying. The one holding you roughly gagged you with a cloth as soon as he pried his hand off, tying the ends around the back of your head. You gagged when your tongue registered the taste of coppery, day-old blood and sweat.

Despite the hindrance, you screamed your throat raw through the cloth anyway, kicking furiously and struggling in desperation against the small man, who was adamant on keeping you rooted to one spot. Your yells came out muffled and guttural, but not nearly loud enough to alert anybody outside, seeing as the closest people to the chambers were now dead.

Your son whimpered out for you, but he remained quiet after that, his pale mauve eyes wide as he fixed his gaze upon the large, brutish man who slowly approached him.

“Don’t be scared, little fish,” the mousy man sneered gripping your cheeks so you’d be forced to watch your little boy cower further beneath his covers. “We’re simply debt collectors, you see. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We just want ‘im. Won’t hurt one hair on your pretty lil’ head, ey?”

“NO!” you sobbed, struggling thrice-fold against him, to no avail. “Take me! Please, not my son!” you screamed, though it sounded like nothing but incoherent wailing through the dirty cloth.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as the large man tightened his grip on his longsword. The other hand reached out for your son, dragging him out of bed by the scruff of his sleep shirt so he dangled nearly a meter away from the ground.

“Don’t look, mother. I don’t want you to see it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear through the thundering of your pulse in your ears, making your knees buckle. “I saw it in my dreams.”

With one strike, the man lopped Kyrion’s head clean off.

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment. You screamed through the cloth, sobbing as you painfully crumpled to the ground, the gangly man finally releasing you. The blood… your son’s blood… his bed was covered with it. The walls behind him, the floor, the books on his desk…

Red, everywhere…

The two monsters had taken Kyrion’s head, the large man’s crimson-flecked fist gripping your son’s pearly-white curls, both fleeing the chambers in a blink of an eye.

You sobbed against the ground, inching your way to your son with your bonds digging into you. You didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the pain within your chest.

“Kyrion,” you wailed through the cloth, using your shoulder to roughly shove it down your lips, letting it fall around your neck, tearing the corner of your mouth in the process.

The entire Red Keep seemed to awaken with your grief-stricken scream. You kneeled your head against your little boy’s decapitated body, sobs wracking through your entire form.

That was what Aemond had rushed into, hearing the echoes of your cries from far away. He’d locked the girls’ rooms before coming, fearing the worst.

Upon seeing you on the ground, hovering over his murdered son, Aemond collapsed to his knees beside you, gathering his broken, shaking wife in his arms as he tugged you away. With trembling fingers, he undid the ropes around you, allowing you to throw your arms around him freely.

“Look away, jorrāelagon,” he said, voice uneven as he began to cry with you. “Look away.”

His words made you sob even harder… your son had told you to do just the same.

When Criston Cole came rushing in with Alicent Hightower, Aemond had immediately got to his feet, murderous revenge painted across his features. He helped you up, still crying hysterically.

“Mother, escort Y/N to our daughters’ chambers. Get a dozen guards to man the door. I’ll find our son’s murderer, and I’ll kill him myself.” He began striding away, Criston hot on his heels.

You called out for him, voice hoarse with overuse.

Pausing in his steps, Aemond turned his head ever so slightly, but didn’t meet your gaze. He blamed himself, of course he did. He was ashamed, because it was his fault his son was dead. It was his fault he couldn’t protect him—that he couldn’t protect you.

It seemed that Aemond was far too blinded by his rage to learn from his mistakes.

“I need you here, please! Please, Aemond, please don’t go,” you sobbed, leaning your weight against Alicent, who had taken to cradling you against her chest.

A muscle in your husband’s jaw jumped. A tear slipped down from his only eye, and he continued to walk away, determined to bring justice to his son. It felt as if a searing hot knife had pierced through his chest and twisted when he heard your despaired cries ricocheting off the stone halls of the Keep.

Revenge, was all he could think of, cold anger dancing along the dark shadows of his face. If it is a war they want, it is a war they shall have.

a/n ; hey !! thank you for reading this fic until the end <3 means so much to me! i made some picrews of what i visualize the kids to look like so here you go !! they're all aged up, ofc.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fluff #aemond targaryen fic #aegon targaryen x reader

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br0kenangel · 3 months ago

Note

lol idk, i was bored so i made you a masterlist (I probably missed sum stories i apologize) i can't really update this i just realized that but oh well feel free to copy and paste this on another post, so you can update it ur own

headcanons/quotes:

aegon and malachy (would they hurt you?)

lady lannister quotes

baby targaryens as adults (jaehaerys, maelor, aegon iii, viserys ii)

when they kiss you for the first time (baby targaryens as adults)

non hotd, yandere bully who is obsessed with your poosay yum

SERIES

yandere malachy granger (tw: non-con, drugging)

part 1, part 2, part 3

baby aegon and witch reader

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

aegon and ladyknight reader

part 1

baby aegon and aemond x little sister reader

part 1, part 2, part 3

baby aegon and rhaenyra's twin sister reader

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

lady lannister reader

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6,

babysitter reader x baby aegon

part 1,

dark aegon and dark reader

part 1, part 2

my dove (unhinged aegon x therapist reader)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

prey (serial killer aegon x victim reader)

part 1,

stray dogs

part 1

NON HOTD

watership down

part 1

this took forever ngl lol, good night babes <3 i am definitely not in ur walls

Let me just–

SJBSYSISIMSBDHSKSOXHYDHDVDNKSOZMXBXHHXJDJDBDBHEIWOWKNSBSGXTDBJELNXBXGDHWJSJJDHD

Ok now let get serious–

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! Honestly I didn't had time to make one until tomorrow (I'm going to give my phone to my teacher for months to come because I'm addicted to it but I want to study) so I'm really thankful. I'm really hard on editing so that's why it takes a lot of time.

Feel free to come out of your spot. I left chocolate cake outside :3

Love u :)))))

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anyarose011 · 4 months ago

Text

"There Must Be Something in the Water" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: Many men with one eye have followed you home before...but never one with silver hair. What could he possibly want with you?

Part 1 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, vulgar jokes, talk of sex, prostitution, and spice (but not smut)

I jumped on the HOTD bandwagon, and even worse (I don't know how it happened, seriously, I don't), I started loving Aemond "Mommy Issues" Targaryen. I came up with this lovely little mini series, and I hope you enjoy it! If you know where the song in this chapter is from, 100 points to *insert your Hogwarts House*! Also, please don't try and keep a timeline of events (the show for sure doesn't), and if you need help on the Westeros money system, use this.

Word Count: 4.2k

You knew a man was following you one lonesome night. It was like clockwork though; you walking through the empty, darkened streets of King’s Landing, a hollow water jug on your hip as if it were a babe.

It didn’t matter if it was the same one who’d been following you all week; what mattered, was what he had. You hadn’t caught sight of him yet, so perhaps he was a different man. Still, if it wasn’t, then simply from how his eyes must traced over you, he’d plan on coming closer that night.

Wearing only your sandals and a thin dress, you continued down the narrow path. It must’ve been…oh, perhaps three hours before sunrise? If you’d gone any sooner or any later, than members of the City Watch would surely be out.

Whether they wanted to aid or hurt you, it would all be the same.

As faint torches began to appear alongside the walls you walked, and you knew you grew closer to the well, you began to hum lightly at first. Then, you sung even softer; no words, just your voice in its purest form. It was only when you finally made it to the well, and after you sat atop the stones, did you finally add a story to your song.

“Father’s hunting in the forest, Mother’s cooking in the home. I must go to fetch the water, ‘til the day that I am grown.”

You cranked the bucket down into the well, still singing.

“’Til I’m grown, ‘Til I’m grown. I must go to fetch the water, ‘til the day that I am grown.”

You glanced up and saw the shadow of the man who had been following you. He was still peeking out from behind an alley, but once he saw your head move, he stepped out. Yet, you merely kept your back to him, cranking the handle on the well to bring the bucket up.

“Then I will have a handsome husband, and a daughter of my own. Then I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in the home.”

Taking the bucket off its hook, you poured it carefully into the jug. Setting the bucket back, you then stood up, taking the full jug of water into your arms. Slowly, you began to walk uphill and out of the area of the well, singing quietly.

“My own home, My own home. Then, I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in my home. My own home, My own-.”

You’d gotten better at making it look like an accident when dropping your jug of water. The first time you’d done it, you glanced back to make sure your unsuspecting victim was watching and let go of it. Needless to say, he was the one that robbed you that night.

The jug rolled down the cobbled hill, and ricocheted off the well, spinning in place. Soon, the silhouette of a man became visible as he came closer to the jug. Your eyes drifted up from the ground. When you saw his face, the first thing you noticed was only one eye; the other, his left eye, covered by a humble patch.

Then, the one thing that frightened you: Long hair that was almost the shade of the sun, it was so light.

This wasn’t a drunken man wandering alone at night, this wasn’t a Kingsguard who had an itch to scratch.

No…no, this was Aemond Targaryen, a prince. A prince who could do anything to you, and you wouldn’t be able to resist; even if you fought.

And he was staring at you from the foot of the hill. You weren’t even at the top, only halfway. In actuality, this wasn’t the most afraid you’d ever been in a situation like this. Still, the way he bent down to pick up the jug without his smile wavering, or his eye never leaving yours, greatly unnerved you.

Then, he turned away from you, approaching the well. Setting down the jug, he began to turn the crank of the well, lowering the bucket back down into the water. This wasn’t the first time a man had done this…yet from a prince?

“Come down now,” he beckoned, not looking at you. “I won’t cause any harm. You look ridiculous.”

You hadn’t any idea at the time what words he would say…but those weren’t what you expected at all. Making a sour face, you slowly trailed down the rocky hill until you were at level with him. Aemond stopped cranking, and finally looked at you.

“I know you aren’t a mute.” He taunted. “You wouldn’t sing so sweetly if you were.”

Still, you refused to speak. Instead, you folded your hands, standing tall as if you were an equal to him. This only widened the smile upon his face. He sat atop the rocks of the well, leaving a space for you.

You approached him, but did not sit. Even as his eyes trailed over your figure (and how little of your curves the dress hid), you remained stoic; at least, as best as you could. It certainly wasn’t the first time a man looked upon you with lust…but it felt stranger now.

“Don’t tell me I have to pay coin solely to have a conversation with you?” He laughed.

“No.” You finally spoke. “But you are the second Targaryen I have witnessed to take comfort in brothels whilst mourning his line in succession.”

…If you were going to die at any point in life, you at least thought you would die in a fight. This wasn’t the one you were imagining, but it would do.

He nodded, his voice returning to what you assumed to be normal; a natural edge to it that one would find difficult to discern if he was angry at them. “I assume my brother was the first to receive your comfort then?”

“He has never laid eyes on me.”

“I have heard the stories of you.” Aemond hissed. “A living siren, luring those thinking with the head between their legs, only to rob them of all they have. How is it possible he has not seen you?”

“Perhaps you underestimate the King’s intelligence.”

“You followed me.” You wanted to say, but only did so in your mind.

He sighed, standing up to be almost toe to toe with you. “If you are not a whore, then how did you come to know I have visited the Street of Silk?”

Dropping your eyes to the ground, they were soon brought back up by Aemond’s hand cupping your jaw. You did not know if it was shock or stupidity, but you weren’t the least bit afraid. He wanted answers, and he wasn’t so pigheaded to kill you before you gave them.

You backed out of his grip, sighing as if he was an inconvenience (he was, but you couldn’t tell him that). “For years I have made deals with the ladies of the night. I come to them in the evening, they tell me what men are still sick with lust, I lure those men, rob them, maim them, kill them if I have to, and share whatever I have taken.”

A smile lurked in the corner of his mouth. “You’ve killed men before?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you believe.”

“Did the women tell you to lure me?”

“They did not tell me it was you.”

“But you knew I was in their attendance.”

“Are you going to fill my jug of water or not?”

Aemond turned back to the well, your empty water jug still resting on the stones. “Answer my question.” He gritted his teeth, yet still brought his hands to the crank and turned it.

You leaned against the basin, watching him and debating your words. “Have you spoken to any women outside your house?”

He snickered (to your surprise and your delight). “You’re very strange.”

“Answer my question.” You teased gently.

“Yes, I have.” The bucket resurfaced, and he took it off the hook. “If my frequent visitations to the Street of Silk haven’t made you aware, then I would say that the gods have cursed you with selective attention.”

“Then you must know that women like to talk.” You sat upon the rocks. “That it would be impossible for them to keep quiet about a silver-haired prince with one eye.”

Aemond said not a word as he poured the water into the jug. When it was filled, he set the bucket back on the hook and walked to stand in front of you. His hands resting on the stones outside of your thighs, caging you.

“Do you favor talking?”

“Only when it brings me favor.”

He brought one of his hands up to your thigh, dancing dangerously close to the inside of it. You sucked in a breath as he asked. “This is what it takes to grant you favor? Dressing yourself up like a doll, singing like a bird for men?”

“Why did you follow me?” You brought your face just a little closer for him to hear your whisper.

“I thought I already told you.” He held your face in his other hand, shutting his eye and hovering his nose above yours. “I have heard the stories; I wanted to see if you were real, and as beautiful as many have claimed.”

You brought your hand to grip onto the wood of the well, steadying yourself as you felt his breath upon your skin. “And what are your thoughts?”

He opened his eye, wearing that same smile. “You’re not…unpleasing to look at.” Pinching your cheek, he drew himself away from you to see the state you contorted your body in. He scoffed. “Seven Hells, you thought I’d push you, didn’t you?”

Relaxing, you hopped down from where you sat, cradling the heavy jug of water into your arms. “You can never be careful around men.”

He hummed. “Especially those who look like the monsters mothers tell their children hide that under their beds.”

“I would’ve thought that if I hadn’t spoken to you.” You tried to pass by him.

His hand came to rest on your bare shoulder; his fingers playing with the thin strap. “And now that you have?”

You felt bold that night (if it wasn’t obvious prior). So, holding the jug on your hip, you brought your other hand over his; softly caressing his knuckles as you smiled. “You’re funny.”

He didn’t laugh, not even smiled. Instead, for a moment, you saw his eye grow. You pulled away from him, your stomach churning at what you had just said and done. You offended him, you must have.

“Goodnight,” your curtsied. “your grace-.”

“-Aemond.”

Now it was your turn for your eyes to enlarge.

“You may call me Aemond.”

He said it as if you would surely see him again. Taking a crisp breath, you smiled shyly. “And what if I were to call you ‘Little Prince’?”

“Perhaps when I hear you sing again, I might allow it.”

“Then I bid you goodnight, Aemond.” You curtsied playfully, quickly turning on your heel to walk away from him.

You heard his footsteps behind you. “You have not told me your name.”

“Perhaps when you hear me sing again,” you repeated his words. “I shall give it to you.”

You expected him to follow you for the second time that night. To maybe pull you into a dark alleyway and make you tell him your name in the most pleasant way possible. Yet, you did not hear a retort as you walked back up the cobbled hill and turned on the first right to where your home was.

The sound of life soon flooded your ears as you walked through the main part of the city. Even with it being almost sunrise, there were still enough people out and about. It was only when you were nearing close to home, did the events of the night truly dawn on you.

You ran into the prince, and not only had you come out of it unharmed but also liked by him. It couldn’t possibly have been anything more than him wanting to wet his cock again (wet his cock with a girl his own age to put it more accurately, but you could never say that aloud). Despite how much the interaction thrilled and entertained you, you hoped to any gods above you wouldn’t see him again for that very reason.

Whilst turning another corner, a hooded man had tried to do the same, causing the two of you to collide. The jug fell out of your arms and crashed onto the road, the water spilling out.

“Cocksucker!” You cursed, falling to your knees.

You glanced up at the man who caused this, but he quickly pushed past you. For a moment, you thought you saw silver hair.

It was an open secret amongst the Smallfolk how…peculiar the Targaryens were.

Sighing heavily, you pulled yourself up along with the jug. When you began to walk though, you heard soft clinging from the jug. Stopping soon as you started, you glanced into the empty jug, and a faint shining momentarily blinded you. You reached in and pulled out five silver coins.

Stags…they were Stag coins.

You could pay half a years’ worth of food, a somewhat nicer place to live, clothes that were your own…but it wasn’t enough for passage on a ship, none the less, a new life.

Sliding the coins back into the jug, you continued on your way home as if nothing had happened. All the while, pondering if running into the little prince again would do more harm than good.

Not the day after you ran into Aemond, but the day after that, you were in the streets with the other smallfolk, weeping with his sister and his mother.

The same night you first met him was the same night Prince Jaeherys was beheaded. You hadn’t an idea how old he was until you watched his little body wheeled through King’s Landing. There had never been a procession like this, and the whole event made you feel ill.

It felt strange to call it an event; to have the same word used for festivals and celebrations describe a funeral.

As you attempted to escape the crowds that were reaching out to Queen Halaena, a daunting thought dawned on you: Was it Daemon Targaryen, the traitor to the Crown, uncle and husband to Rhaenyra, that you saw the previous night?

Swallowing down the sickness that stirred within you, you decided to cauterize your doubt with work.

“You know,” one of the brothel workers, Valda, smirked. “a certain, silver-haired dragon keeps asking about you.”

Scowling, you looked at her in the mirror while sitting at the vanity, one of the other girls doing your hair. “And what have you told him?”

“I’ve told him nothing. Chansey though-.”

“-You said you wouldn’t tattle!” Chansey, after running a comb through your hair, threw it at her.

It was dinner for most of the girls, and every one of them laughed as they ate in one of the sitting rooms.

“What did you tell him?” You interrogated.

She sighed. “When he came last night, he asked for ‘The Woman at the Well’, and if I knew your name. I said you’d have to tell him yourself, and that you left an hour before he arrived.”

“So now he knows I’m here right now.”

Valda rolled her eyes, kneeling to your height and wrapping her arms around you. “If he cared so much for you, why isn’t he here right now?”

“I don’t want to know.”

He was more than likely fucking Sylvi as you spoke.

“What did you do to the Kinslayer to make him act like this?” She jested.

There was that name people were calling him. He killed Lucerys Velaryon, son of Rhanerya and probably the reason there would be a war in the coming month. People said that the boy fell from his dragon, others said Aemond’s dragon ate him, you didn’t know at the time. All you knew was that you wanted the conversation to end.

But, Valda persisted.

“I know you’ve never lain with anyone, but I didn’t know you sucked cock like a goddess.”

“What?!” You shrieked, and the girls howled with laughter. “I did nothing of the sort!”

Chansey giggled. “Don’t tell us you let him nurse on your tits like a newborn babe.”

“…Huh?”

More giggles followed as she said. “That’s what he does to Sylvi-!”

“-Who does what to me?”

Four little words silenced the room quicker than a drawn sword would have. All eyes darted to the opened door, and Sylvi entering. She only looked at Chansey.

She swallowed thickly. “No one, Madame Sylvi.”

“I hope you aren’t shaming the activities that I or other girls have done in this house; considering you have spread your legs and filled your mouth for far longer than half of the women in this room alone.”

“I didn’t intend any harm, Madame.” She dropped her head solemnly. “Please, forgive me.”

Sylvi approached her, caressing her cheek. “All is forgiven unless I hear those ugly words from you again. That goes for the rest of you, understood?”

They nodded and mumbled their agreement. Sighing, Sylvi announced. “Take the rest of your dinner in your quarters. If any men request you, tell him to wait, you still have fifteen minutes left. I need to speak with our ‘Woman at the Well’, as the title has been given to her by the prince himself.”

The girls chuckled, offering sincere goodbyes as they passed by you before exiting. When it was only you and Sylvi, she sat down on the long couch just behind where you were sitting. She looked at you through the mirror and tilted her head. You got up and sat beside her.

“Did you get anything from last night?” She first asked.

Nodding, you took out a small pouch from your boot. “It was the man visiting from Essos.”

“The rich one or his pageboy?” She opened it, revealing two copper Star coins, and one Groat. That answered her question.

“Apparently,” you relaxed further into the couch, leaning against her. “the rich one grew a conscience and decided to go back to his wife instead of fucking Valda. Did she tell you that?”

“You know her.” She stretched her arm to hang behind you. “She doesn’t like being left dry.”

“Does anyone?” You giggled.

Sylvi lightly tugged a piece of your hair. “Don’t slouch, you’ll mess up Chansey’s hard work.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you sat up. “It’s already dark, is there someone waiting for an innocent woman at a well?”

She shook her head. “No, not that I’ve heard of now, but tonight, perhaps. There’s so much talk of war, I’m feeling ill already thinking of it. Still, it will bring fortune for the both of us.”

“I suppose so.” You sighed, leaning forward.

Her hand came up to stroke your back, her finger trailing your spine. “Is it true you still haven’t fucked anyone?”

“Sylvi!” You laughed.

“Is it wrong I find it hard to believe?!” She shoved you playfully. “You’ve done so much good for us throughout the years; I’m confident there isn’t one handsome fella who wouldn’t want to bed you. Or one of the ladies, if you prefer.”

“I’m alright.” You had told her that a hundred times prior, and you felt as if you would tell her a hundred times more.

She sighed. “Suit yourself. Come back in an hour or two, we should have someone drunk on cunt for you to sedate.”

“Of course.”

You dusted yourself off and stood, heading to the door. Sylvi called your name, and you turned.

“I don’t want you speaking with the prince.” Her face was sullen. “You shouldn’t have to deal with his burdens.”

Nodding, you opened the door. “Tell him to leave me be if he asks again; I don’t want to deal with him either.”

You had decided on not wanting to see him again; even if he gave you a hundred Dragons (…that’s a lie, you would).

So, after wandering around King’s Landing for another hour, sticking close to the well-lit parts of the city and almost enjoying the merry crowds, you went back to the brothel, changed into your thin dress, and applied a light coat of makeup. Valda had been with a boy who turned two and twenty that night; friendless, wanted to do something extraordinary to celebrate his name day, and she had been the first person who made him cum. He didn’t even get to slip his cock in her, he was so overwhelmed.

She said he was sweet; you almost felt bad as you spotted him whilst preparing around the corner.

You began to sing the same song you sang every other night, carrying the jug on your hip. You were bolder that night knowing he was more innocent than you, so you glanced over your shoulder and beckoned him closer.

As you sat on the well, letting the bucket lower, you could feel the boy’s presence grow stronger. When you finished your song, you finally looked at him, grinning from ear to ear. Then, your eyes fell to a figure in the alleyway behind him.

“Does your mother know you’re here, boy?”

Said boy turned to look over his shoulder and was met with the face of a hooded one-eyed man, grinning like the devil. The boy’s jaw quivered and only stammers escaped. Aemond walked closer to him.

“What did you think would happen tonight?” He taunted. “You’d come up behind her and fuck her senseless?”

“N-no, I-I-!”

“-Leave us.”

The trembling boy said nothing more; only kept his head down and walked quickly away from the well. Rolling your eyes, you drew them away from the prince once it was only the two of you.

“You’re welcome.”

‘You’re welcome’ he said.

You looked back at him, your face falling into disgust. “What do I have to be thankful for?”

“I assumed you didn’t take pleasure luring little boys night after night.” He sat beside you. “Seems like a chore.”

“It’s worse.” You sighed, cranking the water bucket up. “It’s a job; something us smallfolk need.”

He snickered. “You believe I’ve never worked a day in my life.”

“For coin? Yes.”

“Is there anything else you do for work? Or are you just a siren?”

You looked at him, halting yourself. “Why did you pay me that night?”

He shrugged. “You gave me a service.”

“Someone to talk to?”

“Entertainment.”

Leaning against the wooden post of the well, you asked. “So will you pay me in gold this time? Considering you entertained yourself so much I lost a quarry?”

“We’ll see.” He stood up and placed his hand on the crank.

Humming, you stood as well, turning your whole body to him. “And no, I don’t just do this.”

“What do you do?”

“I usually tailor, sometimes look after children; many odd jobs.”

“Where do you tailor?”

You smirked. “Try asking me later.”

He took the bucket off its hook once it appeared. “I won’t, if you tell me your name.”

“How much coin do you have for that?”

“You didn’t have to pay for my name.”

“I already knew who you were.”

“Well, then you didn’t have to pay for the privilege to use it.” He poured the water into your jug.

You shrugged. “You made me lose a quarry, so…”

Aemond rolled his eye, but you could still see a smirk playing on his lips as he reached into his pocket and took out three silver coins; Moons. Your own eyes grew, and like a greedy child, you instantly stretched your hand out to grasp them. He was quicker, holding them closer to his chest.

“Ah, ah, ah, your name, and something else…”

That’s what made you lose interest. You forced yourself to stand taller, but your heart was trying to beat itself out of your chest and run away in terror.

“I’m not going to…to…”

He tilted his head, mimicking you. “To…to do what?”

“How plainly am I allowed to speak to you?”

“As if you were my own brother.”

“I’m not going to fuck you.” You forced out. “And I won’t let you do that to me either.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head. “Is there a difference?”

“Out of the both of us, you’re the only one who’s been in a pleasure house for its intended purpose. I thought you would know.”

“And you have thought correctly.” He pocketed the coins. “I don’t wish for that; only a walk.”

You furrowed your brow. “To where?”

“Nowhere, just around King’s Landing.”

This was stranger than the first night. The coins were meant to be found after you left, but now there he was, paying you directly for a service. He more than likely had his fill with Sylvi earlier, and after you first mentioned him to the girls, one of them let it slip that Madame Sylvi was the only woman he pleasured himself with.

So, despite how much he would deny it, Prince Aemond Targaryen was paying you to be a friend.

And damn it all, even though you had a feeling it would all end in tears, you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him your name.

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