#house of the dragon x plus size reader

[plus-size-reader]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 3628 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is closer to Aegon, which is unacceptable to Aemond, who is in love with her and always has been

(Disclaimer: I despise the brutality against women used as a plot device for 'entertainment' so any SA or ickiness regarding Aegon doesn't exist in my universe. He's still a burden on the realm and uber pathetic tho)

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You had always cared for Aegon.

He could be challenging sometimes, you knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t change the fact that he was important to you. As children, he would share his toys with you and tell you stories of worlds far beyond this one.

Things changed as you got older, of course, but he was still Aegon. It didn’t matter how crass, cruel, or drunk he got.

He was your truest friend, and that meant that you were willing to put up with certain things for his sake.

At this moment, for example, you were listening to him drunkenly ramble about battle strategy and knights he figured he could best in combat over dinner. Did you particularly care about either of those things? Of course not.

…but Aegon did, so you listened all the same.

Just as the rest of his family did, because like it or not, he was the firstborn son and this kingdom was his to inherit.

One member of his family, in particular, was less than thrilled with this arrangement. At the other end of the table sat Aemond, the second son of King Viserys Targaryen, drinking from his own goblet to keep the bile from rising in his throat.

You had to be kidding.

Did you truly find his brother that interesting? It wasn’t possible that you actually believed him capable of besting Sir Harwin Strong in hand-to-hand combat. Aegon could hardly stand on his own most of the time.

He would die in a fight like that, and Aemond knew you were clever enough to know that. Still, you said nothing as he continued his rant.

You just kept listening, with a soft smile playing at your lips, as if his idiot brother wasn’t an embarrassment to his bloodline.

“I know for certain that I could have been a knight, the best knight there ever was” Aegon spouted, slurring his words lightly toward their end and earning a soft giggle from you as you imagined what that would look like.

It was a lie.

Aegon didn’t have what it took to be a knight by any stretch of the imagination but your laughter wasn’t so much about what he said. More than anything, it was about Aegon. He was drunk, as he so often was, but in moments like these, it didn’t matter.

This was how he’d been as a boy too, and that was the part that amused you. The slight glimpses of the dreamer he’d been before the world had robbed him of his right to dream.

Before he’d turned into nothing more than a man, seeking out his own pleasures, even at the expense of every other.

“I think I would quite like to see that” you mused, sipping from your own cup, though you weren’t anywhere near as under the influence as he was. You had been nursing the same goblet all night, one cup for Aegon’s seven.

It wasn’t really a challenge, but like he so often did, Aegon took it as one anyway.

“I would venture I could even beat Aemond, if he’d be brave enough to face me,” he added, shooting his brother a look that did sort of alarm you. It was beyond harmless musings about the knights of the realm and famed warriors.

This was a bit more personal, and you didn’t like where it was heading. “I could even cover an eye, make it fair for him”

Naturally, in his drunken state, Aegon’s movements were clumsy and rash but the implications when his left hand came up to cover his eye were just as impactful as they would have been if they’d been delivered sober.

You were silent for a moment, your gaze shifting between the future King’s lopsided grin and the sharp glare of his younger brother.

He knew that he’d been insulted, and you didn’t expect him to forgive it, but shot him a look anyway. It was small, but the message was clear.

You were asking him to ignore his brother’s ill conceived attempt at humor.

“Alright, perhaps you should slow down, Aegon” you suggested finally, resting your hand gingerly on his wrist, all but forcing the cup in his hand back to the table’s surface the moment he once again attempted to lift it to his mouth.

He had already been drinking most of the day and as the sun slowly retreated from the sky, it was certainly time to stop. Your fear for what he’d do if he didn’t was only furthering your insistence.

Not that you could make that clear outright.

“Y/N’s right, it’s about time for everyone to turn in” Alicent agreed, shooting you a thankful glance as she stood from the table, glad that she didn’t have to step in. The King had already gone back to his chambers, and with her leaving, everyone else was sure to follow suit.

Alicent had always been glad for the bond you shared with Aegon, though she didn’t understand it, especially in moments like this.

You were probably the only person who could have ever gotten him to do as you asked without the tantrum that normally followed. “Goodnight, your Grace” you called, watching as she and Helena retreated from the room, leaving you, Aegon and his brother alone in the room.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that Aemond was still watching you, his blue eye unwavering as he studied you, but you didn’t have time to figure out why.

Not before his brother once again pulled your attention to him instead.

“I’m not finished” Aegon tried, bringing the chalice back to his lips only for Aemond to scoff over your shoulder.

He would truly never understand how his brother had managed to survive this long, much less maintain his place in line for the throne. He had no real business being there, and he wouldn’t, if it hadn’t been for his birthright.

Though that would just be among the list of things Aemond didn’t understand, like why you were so determined to take such good care of his pathetic brother, when you got nothing back in return.

Aegon would never show you the same courtesy, not in the way he would, had he been in his place.

“Yes you are, it’s time for bed” you spoke softly to your oldest friend, but your eyes had found their way across the table to Aemond and his now sour attitude.

It was no secret that he and his brother didn’t exactly get along, but you didn’t understand what had happened tonight that was any more irksome to him than any other night. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d insulted him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Every night with Aegon was essentially the same, and no one was more used to that than Aemond was. Not even you.

“Will you take me?” the firstborn asked, that twisted smirk finding its way onto his face once more as he grinned, never ceasing his drinking even as he spoke about being done drinking.

Normally, one of the servant girls would be tasked with trying to get the future King to his chambers, but between his cheery mood this evening and the silent appreciation you’d gotten from the Queen, you figured you were up to the task tonight.

“If you promise to behave, I will take you” you agreed, finally reaching over to snag his cup from him completely, the stem held delicately between your fingers.

Again, Aemond found himself swallowing back more than just wine as he watched the scene in front of him unfold.

Did the two of you really have to do this every night? Aegon was married after all, and if his mother had anything to say about it, you would be too, soon enough.

It was so far beneath you.

In Aemond’s opinion, his ridiculous brother could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve a moment of your time, but clearly, his believing that wasn’t enough to convince you. At this point, he feared nothing would.

“Are you serious?” he finally called out, not even bothering to hide the ugly tone in his voice. It was practically dripping with emotions, but whether that was jealousy or disgust, he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps it was some mix of both.

“About what?” you hummed, your focus not leaving his brother even as you spoke to Aemond, ignoring the clear upset in his voice in favor of getting the future King to his feet.

Because even when he was speaking directly to you, Aegon was all you could ever give your attention to.

Aegon was basically dead weight when he drank like this, and it was going to be quite the task for you to get him into bed without accident. Not that the servant girls complained, each and every night when they took the job.

They simply did what needed to be done, and you weren’t about to be any different. Those girls deserved a break from his drunken antics for once.

“I could get someone to do that for you. It isn’t your job to make sure he gets to bed” This time, Aemond was sure to monitor the venom in his voice, fully aware that it wasn’t getting him anywhere anyway.

If Aegon had spoken to you like that, you would have stopped everything to assess its origin, but from Aemond, it was almost as if he hadn’t opened his mouth at all.

Why he even bothered at all at this point, he wasn’t sure.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured, draping the blonde’s arm over your shoulders and heading toward the door without a second look at his brother. The second son, the man who dreamed of taking care of you instead of forcing you to care for his every need.

The man who had been hopelessly pining over you for all the years you’d known him, but who you’d never once actually seen.

Left all alone at the table.

~

You were able to move quietly through the halls, finding Aegon much less drunk than you’d originally assumed once he got to his feet. His steps were clunky, and he’d been whisper-yelling in Valyrian at you the entire time, but he wasn’t totally helpless.

He’d had enough to fully give up on the pretense of his birthright, but not enough to be slobbering on your shoulder, which you had enough cause to be thankful for. In the past, he’d not been so gracious.

“Alright, go to sleep now Aegon,” you cooed, pulling the covers up over him and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “In the morning, we can take a walk around the garden”

The only answer to your suggestion came in the form of gentle snoring, which made you smile in spite of yourself as you left the room.

It seemed to you that the only time the prince got any peace was when he slept. He hadn’t always been that way, but as the days passed, you found it harder and harder to ignore the way the world was changing him.

You weren’t blind to the truth.

It was just as obvious to you that Aegon was a disaster as it was to everyone else. You knew that he was a coward and a fool and that the care you had for him was the only thing keeping you from sharing the ire for him that so many others felt.

You knew that, but the truth remained that he was your oldest friend and you loved him for that, despite his many flaws.

You were many things, and loyal seemed to be chief among them, even if sometimes you wondered if your faith in him was misplaced. Would Aegon be a good King? You weren’t sure, but you knew that you would be by his side until the day he proved undeserving.

The Lord’s chamber door closed softly behind you and gave way to a long dark hallway, which you maneuvered expertly. You had taken the walk between your chambers and Aegon’s a thousand times and you knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, you couldn’t account for everything.

For example, you never could have expected to be grabbed from your path until it happened, and you found yourself standing in an adjacent room instead of the long expanse of the hallway. You couldn’t see it that well, with only the moonlight streaming in through the window available to help orient yourself.

It wasn’t an altogether distinctive space at first glance, but it didn’t take you long to place it anyway.

The grasp your kidnapper had on your arms remained, even as the moments ticked by, and while it wasn’t tight or uncomfortable, it gave away the perpetrator in an instant.

Aemond.

No one else was capable of so much selfish aggression while also maintaining such a tight composure. No one else would have cause to take you from the hall, and certainly no one else would have the gull to do so.

Still, for whatever reason, apparently the blonde had decided to snatch you from your normal path and was now just holding you here, a foul look on his usually handsome face.

“Care to explain yourself, my Lord?” you scoffed, removing your arms from his grip as gently as you could, and trying to figure out what could have possibly gotten into him.

It didn’t make any sense.

Never had he attempted something like this before, and you couldn’t work out what was going on, no matter how hard you tried.

“My problem? My problem is that you couldn’t possibly be more of a fool” he started, essentially ignoring your justified response in favor of his own feelings.

He couldn’t watch it anymore.

It was bad enough that his brother was a bumbling idiot without any care for history or culture, or any actual skill. He couldn’t have the throne, the realm, and the affections of you.

That would simply be too much.

Especially when he deserved it so much more. .

“What are you talking about? How much did you have to drink tonight?” you wondered. You were used to Aemond being moody, and he could be unpredictable sometimes but never had he put his hands on you like this. Never had he spoken to you in such a way.

It didn’t make sense, and if you were being honest, you didn’t like it. This was something you wouldn’t have given a second thought coming from Aegon, but here, with Aemond in front of you, it confused you.

Aemond scoffed, clearly not finding your care for his well-being as endearing now that it was aimed at him. Even an hour earlier, he would have been thrilled to have even an ounce of your affection, but not now.

Now, it was almost an insult.

He was so tired of being the second son, and the second in line for everything. Just once, he wanted someone to pick him over his idiot brother.

“Not nearly enough. Perhaps if I drank more, you’d actually look me in the eye”

That got your attention.

You were silent for a moment as you considered his words, and what they could possibly mean in regards to this conversation.

It was an obvious jab at his brother, but it still didn’t help you understand what all this was about and you were torn. You didn’t know how long you were supposed to let this go on or how you were supposed to react.

On one hand, you never would have wanted Aemond to be upset but on the other, you couldn’t exactly explain being alone together in the dark, in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t technically allowed considering that you were both unmarried, and while the Queen was fond of you, you were certain she wouldn’t like this.

You sighed, taking in the distance, or lack therefore, of space between the two of you before you finally broke your silence. “Aemond, enough of this, what has you so upset?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke, hoping to get him to calm down enough to actually speak to you. He had always been the more rational of the brothers and he was certainly better at communicating.

It was one of your favorite things about him, but right now, he sounded like Aegon and you didn’t like that one bit either.

You put up with Aegon out of care for him and hope for the kind young boy you had once known him to be, but Aemond was better than that. You enjoyed his company, and the time you spent together was time you treasured.

You didn’t understand why he was so angry with you tonight.

“I don’t understand why you love him when he treats you so poorly. What has he ever done to deserve your affections?” he wondered, his tone matching yours almost instantly.

It hadn’t been his intention to yell at you, and it certainly wasn’t something he wanted to do, but one man could only take so much. At some point, he had to make it so that you saw who he was, and what he had to offer you.

Of course, Aemond would have preferred a heartfelt declaration of his feelings, in a room where he could actually see the sparkling of your eyes instead of this, but it was no matter.

Even if it had to be like this, little more than a hushed whisper under the cover of darkness, all that mattered was that you heard him.

…and what choice did you have after something like that? What had Aegon done to deserve your affections? You weren’t sure.

Granted, if you’d had time to think about it, you may have had a reason. You may have been able to explain the many reasons you’d chosen him as your closest friend but right now, you couldn’t think of a single thing.

All you could focus on was the way Aemond was peering down at you with so much intensity and the way his right hand had slowly snuck back up to your wrist at your side, fiddling with the fabric trim of your sleeve.

All you could see, and feel, was him in a way you’d never experienced before.

“I don’t know,'' you muttered finally, feeling a bit pathetic as you willed your brain to work properly. You had never once been stunned into silence by the presence of another person before, and it didn’t make any sense.

What had changed? You didn’t know. Apparently, in this moment, you didn’t know much of anything but instead of mocking you as Aegon would have, Aemond simply nodded.

That was what he thought.

You were so used to being devoted to his brother, and had been for so many years, that you didn’t even know why that was. You were so busy constantly doting on him, and dealing with his every thought and feeling that you didn’t realize it was meaningless.

“I could be so much more for you, if you’d only let me” Aemond’s words surrounded you the moment he spoke them, and like the crashing of waves, you realized what this was.

He wasn’t angry at all.

Aemond was hurt.

All this time, he was under the impression that the reason you remained by Aegon’s side was because of a longing, forever to be unfulfilled, but that couldn’t be more wrong.

You did not love Aegon, and it was not Aegon who made you feel as if you could breathe for the first time in all your life.

That title belonged to another, though he had clearly been just as blind to the truth as you had before now.

“I do care much for Aegon. He’s one of my oldest friends, but I have no desire to be with him,” you clarified, feeling the need to get that out in the open first and foremost. Getting a bit braver, you took his wandering hand in your own, giving it a testing squeeze.

It was so strange, knowing someone so well and not at all, all in the same moment.

Aemond tensed slightly at the touch, almost as if you’d struck him, largely because this wasn’t what he’d expected at all. In truth, he hadn’t had much time to consider anything at all regarding this conversation, but he never would have predicted this, not with all the time in the world.

“What do you desire?” he asked, his tone barely audible and inconceivably small as he tried to wrap his mind around how he’d gotten to this point.

You, the one he’d always dreamed of, were so close and yet still so far away. He felt as if he were to breathe, he may ruin it all, and that just wasn’t worth the risk.

Gingerly, you collected your thoughts, for once deciding to let your own desires out way those of everyone else.

Aegon didn’t matter, the opinions of the nobility didn’t matter, and really, Aemond didn’t either. In this moment, all that mattered was you and what you truly desired, stripped bare of all other things.

“I quite think I’d like to be cared for, for a while” you hummed, your voice equal parts certain and wavering as you tried to take a role you’d never known a day in your life.

If Aemond meant as he said, he would take care of you and that was something you desperately wanted. You just weren’t used to asking for the things you wanted, or even, needed. It wasn’t something someone of your standing had ever known.

��But, perhaps it was time to change all that.

[bellarkeselection]

Hiii I was wondering if you can do daemon Targaryen x plus size reader getting married fluff? Thank you!

Dragons Binded Through Blood

The double doors of the throne room creaked opened before my eyes. My Targaryen silver hair was completely loose except for two strands twisted up to appear like a crown sitting on my head. Walking through the entrance I focused my gaze on the stone floor until I reached the man who would soon become my husband. The Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen.

My sister always looked up to him but not in the same way as I did. I was the twin sister of Rhaenyra who was born a few minutes after her and a bit bigger than she was. “Iksos bisa nykeēdrosa mirros ao jaelagon, uncle. Am nyke nykeēdrosa someone ao jaelagon hae aōha riñnykeā ābrazȳrys? ( Is this still something you want, Uncle. Am I still someone you want as your lady wife?”

“Nyke iderēbagon ao, y/n. Regardless hen whispers lī orvorta lords vestragon bē ao. Nyke jāhor va moriot iderēbagon ao ( I choose you, Y/n. Regardless of the whispers those cunt lords say about you. I will always choose you.” His dark purple eyes lowered down to meet mine while he stood dressed in all black and red clothing of our house.

His words would mean more than they did the first time he had said something along those same lines to me when he asked me to marry him. Every lord that I had come into contact with attempted to compare me to my sister or politely ask if my size was because I ate more than I should, every single one of them except Daemon.

I’d remember the day he asked for my hand in front of the entire court and my father.

Standing beside my sister off to the side at the front of the crowd of people gathered in the throne room all awaiting to see whatever Daemon had to report on his battle fighting in the Stepstones. Heavy footsteps came through the crowd before I saw my uncle walkthrough and stand before my father. He wore white bones shaped into a crown upon his head. “You wear a crown. You also call yourself King.”

“Once we smashed the Triar Key they named me King of the Narrow Sea. But I know there is only one true king, your grace.” Daemon lowered himself down on one knee removing the crown from his head. “My crown and the Stepstones are yours.”

My father walked down the throne stairs clanking his sword on the harsh floor until he reached his younger brother. “Thank you, brother. I now ask you to give up your crown and title of King over to me if you would be so generous.”

“I will in exchange for something in return.” Daemon raises his head glancing behind his shoulder at me briefly.

Father raised a brow at him. “I suppose you can have anything for your victory in battle. What is it that you wish to have, brother?”

“Give me your daughter, Princess Y/n. Allow me to take her as my Lady wife.” His gaze focused on his brother.

Father glanced over at me asking me softly. “Daughter, what do you think about this opportunity? Do you wish to marry Daemon?”

“I’d gladly marry him, father.” Breaking through the crowd I jumped into his waiting arms where he spun me around in some circles till he sat me down on my feet. I grinned leaning forward, capturing his lips with mine ignoring the crowd of people watching us.

Daemon eyed the Septon who stood before us where he handed him a knife cutting his palm drawing out some fresh blood. He handed it to me and I did the same thing as he had. “Now we bind ourselves through blood, princess.”

“And become husband and wife forever, my prince.” I smiled fondly at him, connecting our bleeding hands together as one.

The Septon shifted his gaze between Daemon and I. “In the sight of the seven look upon one another and say the words.”

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crown, Stranger. I am hers ( his ) and she ( he ) is mine from this day until the end of my days." Daemon and I said in unison together with genuine smiles on our faces. We met the other's gaze and sealed the ceremony with a long awaited kiss.

I leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his shoulders once I had wrapped my arms around his neck. He ran his fingers over every inch of my body he could reach. Together we would keep the house of the dragon alive.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽'𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Viscount Aemond Targaryen x Curvy Stark Reader

Summary: She had never seen Viscount Targaryen , nor she ever exchanged a word with him. But that changed one evening, after which the man unexpectedly began to appear everywhere she looked , not letting her mind forget him. Even for a moment.

A/N: I'll admit I had a lot of fun creating the whole idea, mainly because a lot of inspiration was taken from the Bridgertons as well as from Pride and Prejudice, but I think the title explains it all. I can only hope you will like it as much as I do and you will enjoy reading it.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes can happen.

Work contains smut.

Viscount Aemond Targaryen. A man known to few. With a mystery hidden behind his lavender eye, with a hair color of the December snow and a face cold and sharp like a stone.

He radiated both seriousness and arrogance, and with every word he spoke there was a sense of crude indifference to all those he considered unworthy of his presence.

And yet , despite all this , despite his status and sense of superiority , he stood here, stood and looked at the woman he couldn't have.

Her skin looked as soft to the touch as the most expensive velvet , her hair smooth and glistening , were pinned up and styled , highlighting her face , which was adorned with full , kissable lips and rosy cheeks. Her curvy body hidden behind the material of an expensive dark purple dress left little to the imagination , letting his eye and mind feast.

But whenever he tried to force her to level gazes with him her eyes seemed to run away from him. She never submitted to him. Instead, she chose to hide from the man, which made him want to hunt her, suddenly being more determined than ever in his life. And just as he was about to seize her , trapping her in the snare of his long arms , a female hand grabbed his shoulder, halting his movements.

-Mother - he said through a clenched jaw, looking at the older woman out of the corner of his eye.

-Where are you going Aemond? - she asked , wrinkling her eyebrows in consternation -Your betrothed has just arrived , don't keep her waiting - she confessed , shifting her gaze towards Floris Baratheon , who was standing at the other end of the ballroom.

-There are matters , which I must attend to. Immediately - he replied in a controlled and cool tone of voice, gently pushing his mother's hand away , leaving her before she could stop him physically or verbally.

His steps, like himself, were full of control and composure without betraying his true intentions even for a moment. Intentions that were able to crush him under the weight of future consequences, which, despite everything, seemed of little importance to the viscount ,especially when he finally found the mysterious woman who has clouded his senses with her mere presence.

She stood on the balcony , gazing at the night sky , letting the moon illuminate her immaculate face , giving her person an almost angelic glow.

But when Aemond crossed the threshold , placing his foot on the marble slab , the stranger's gaze almost immediately turned in his direction , finally allowing him to drown in the depths of her eyes , which looked at him with intrigue as well as a shadow of irritation.

-Who are you? - she asked , looking for an answer in the features of his face , unfortunately unsuccessfully.

-I should ask you the same question Miss- he stated , walking slowly towards her.

-And yet it was not I who burned the imprint of my eyes on the stranger's body - remarked the young woman , turning fully toward the viscount , now facing him -You did sir. And now you have decided to follow me.

-I did not follow you - he replied , placing his large hand on the stone railing , giving her a feeling of almost being trapped , by how close he was to her now - The truth is that I tried to find you.

-Since you have achieved this goal , what more do you want? - she asked almost in a whisper , studying his face , which was decorated with a long scar and a sapphire in place of the left eye.

-Your name. I want to know it- he said as quietly as she did , bringing his face closer to hers.

The air around them suddenly seemed to become hotter and heavier.

-I will tell it to you…if you tell me yours sir- she replied ,breathlessly , not knowing why.

-Aemond Targaryen - he said almost immediately wanting to know the name of the stranger, who with each passing second made him forget about the bride that waited for him downstairs.

-You're a viscount - she pointed out, placing her hand on his chest to create a previously non-existent distance between them.

Aemond furrowed his brow and took her wrist in his palm , feeling her quickening pulse under his fingertips.

-Are you worried that someone will see you with me? - he asked her with a shadow of amusement on his face.

-I'm worried about what a man like you wants from me , when he is about to marry one of Borros Baratheon's daughters - she stated , stepping away from the stone balustrade , forcing the viscount to let go of her hand.

-I simply wish to learn your name - he answered , repeating his earlier words.

-Y/n Stark - she said , finally revealing her identity, causing a satisfied smile to appear on the viscount's face, which disappeared as quickly as it appeared as she continued - Now if you'll allow me, I'll go my way and you go yours, and we'll act like this encounter never took place.

-Your secrets are safe with me , I assure you Miss - he reassured in a serious tone.

The woman's gaze fled from him for a brief second, as if she needed to think deeply about something. After a moment she shifted her gaze back to him, looking into his violet eye with stoic face.

-Goodnight lord Targaryen - she said before she left the man, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

When the silhouette of the woman disappeared , he wanted to follow her , but stopped himself , turning his gaze in the opposite direction. Yet he could no longer focus on anything other than the beautiful female he meet at the ball to celebrate the engagement, his engagement.

And he wasn't the only one.

It seemed that he was everywhere she was. No matter what she did , no matter where she went , his figure always appeared in the corner of her eye. He haunted her mind as much as she haunted his , and despite how much it tormented both of their souls , she kept her distance , running away from him like a game , while he was the hunter , hunting her. With each of their encounters being closer and closer to catching her.

Until finally there was nowhere to run , nowhere to hide. The only thing left was confrontation.

They met again at the ball , in the same place where their eyes first met , the first time they heard each other , the first time they touched each other's skin.

But this time the man wasn't alone.

Floris Baratheon held on to his arm , smiling shyly at the people who were watching the viscount and future viscountess.

And Y/n was one of them. Her eyes stared at them with a shadow of longing , that the young woman did not even try to hide.

-Are you all right sister? - asked her older brother, standing by her side since the beginning of the ball , watching her closely.

-Yes , yes - she whispered , turning her gaze toward the man, -I just need to get some fresh air.

Cregan sent her a concerned look but did not stop her , silently watching as she left the residence in a haste.

Her breathing seemed to become heavier by the minute , and her footsteps got more and more aggressive.

The realization of what was happening to her began to sink inside her brain. Miss Y/n Stark had fallen in love with a man who belonged to another.

And if fate hadn't mocked her enough , the bane of her existence appeared when all she wanted was to forget.

-Miss Stark - Aemond greeted her , standing still as she turned to face him.

-Viscount Targaryen - she replied , with distress in her tone -Why are you here?

-I saw you leave in a hurry - he explained , scanning her face, which had a grimace of fatigue on it -I wanted to make sure you were okay.

-Why? - she asked , frowning her eyebrows -Why you do this when your betrothed is inside , waiting for you. Why do you do all this? These unexpected encounters , fleeting glances. Why my lord?

The man suddenly appeared by her side. He was so close that their breaths mingled and there lips almost touched.

-Because I care about you - he confessed with seriousness in his voice , looking hard into her eyes.

-You don't know me. And I don't know you - the woman said , stubbornly trying to push away the viscount , but in vain - We can't love each other , we can't.

-And yet, despite your proclaims , I can no longer eat , I can no longer sleep , I can no longer breathe without letting you consume my every thought - he proclaimed , capturing her cheek in his large hand -You haunt me in my dreams , you haunt me during the day , you haunt me when I'm with my family , you haunt me when I look directly into the eyes of my betrothed - he growled , brushing her ear with his lips -You can deny it , but at least don't make me do it , don't make me continue to suffer without you by my side.

Y/n felt as if something had possessed her.

His words made her finally forget, but unfortunately not about him, but about the outside world that was so close to them, almost at her fingertips.

She let the viscount finally taste her full pink lips, embraced her wide hips in his rough hands, and dragged her to the carriage standing just behind them, locking them inside. The interior of it suddenly seemed so small , as their bodies pressed against each other.

His palms, large and warm, touched her in places that were forbidden to him, but in his movements there was not a shred of thought about the later consequences, only uncontrollable lust.

-From the moment our eyes met, I knew that I had to possess you, that I had to make you mine - he whispered into her neck, gliding his nose over her pulse, brushing the skin of her neck with his tongue again and again, leaving wet marks behind.

The woman moaned quietly in response , closing her eyes and tilting her head , making herself putty in his hands , which he took advantage of by pushing her onto the seat ,kneeling himself on the floor of the carriage , with his large hands running over the white material of her dress , therefore revealing the smooth skin of her legs , which he sensually kissed, leaving an electrifying sensation that caused her to shiver.

Her eyes closed involuntarily when the viscount's lips found their way to her heated and moist inner thighs , while his fingers melted into her firm bum , lifting her curvy body so her ankles could fell on the man's broad shoulders.

His teeth found their place on the woman's undergarments, tearing them in one strong movement, which caused the cold air to hit her sensitive womanhood, that trembled under the sudden change of temperature.

-Aemond - she whispered , calling him by name for the first time - What are you doing? - she asked, looking down.

-I want to taste you - he muttered , kissing her ankle - I wonder if you taste as sweet as your lips do - he said , slowly pulling up her long gown , so that nothing would block his view of the woman before him.

Before Y/n could respond to his words , his tongue touched her swollen clit , swirling it around the pink pearl , making her uncontrollably thrust her pelvis forward , imprisoning the man in the softness of her thick thighs.

Aemond , in response , growled , clamping his hands on her firm flesh , drawing her impossibly closer , feasting. His mouth explored her femininity , kissing and licking every part , leaving nothing without his attention . He was bestial , greedily drinking her juices , which tasted like the sweetest dessert of his life , as his eyes stared at the woman in front of him , who was consumed by convulsions of pleasure that tore their way through her body , making it burst into flames that consumed her mind.

The viscount watched with delight as she broke under her first orgasm of the night, licking everything she gave him , feeling under his fingertips how her muscles went limp , and seeing how her eyes became clouded by uncontrollable desire.

-Aemond - she said breathlessly , desperately grabbing his jaw , trying to pull him close to her.

-What is it my sweet? - he asked , purring like a cat.

-Please…please…make love to me, Aemond - she begged, brushing her lips against his, tasting herself on them, combing her fingers between strands of his white hair.

In response, the man embraced her curvy body , securing it in his strong arms , positioning the lovers so that this time he was resting on the seat , placing Miss Stark on his legs , immediately proceeding to assault her neck with slow kisses, while his hands crept to her throbbing entrance , which was waiting for him , embracing him tightly as he inserted two fingers into her , sensually moving them.

-So warm and tight - he muttered into her ear , biting its lobe - Full of desperation and need.

-Don't make me wait…I beg you…I can't stand it - she whimpered , burying her face in the hollow of his neck.

Viscount took her flushed cheek in his hand , making her look at him while his other hand skillfully unbuttoned his black pants , freeing his thick and long member , which he directed at her wet entry , entering her slowly and carefully , looking deeply into her eyes.

She felt like she could feel him in her throat. He rammed her insides , mixing the feeling of pain with pleasure , spreading it from the top of her head to her toes. She moaned, whimpered and mewled, letting him move her as he pleased, making her see stars. His member was hitting sensitive places that were never known by her, making her walls clench tighter and tighter against him.

The second orgasm that overtook her body felt overwhelming , yet he kept moving, wanting to feel the sensation of her thight walls clenching onto him for as long as possible, before he did what he wanted from the moment he saw her. He maked her his.

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden heat that poured from inside of her , right between her wet and sticky thighs. Holding the viscount by the neck, she pulled him even closer, snuggling into his muscular body.

Everything seemed to quiet down around them. The windows of the carriage fogged up through their passionate act , and the air became hot and suffocating. However, they did not care , they were too busy melting into each other's embrace.

But this changed when she heard his words , whispered directly into her ear.

Will you marry me , miss Stark?

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 29 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: There is no summary for this. Y'all are going in blind. Word Count: 7913 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff, Self-Loathing, Depression Sluttiness. Oh, we're still talking about menstrual blood.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Yes, this chapter be a big girl. Also trying to pretend that ch. 28 not getting as much comments (given what happens in it) does not bother me. I'm totally okay. Really. (morgan freeman: Celt was in fact, totally not okay)

“Princess Helaena!” Ursula said in wonder when Ser Steffon introduced the princess’ arrival. “What a pleasant surprise! We were about to have supper, but you are welcome to join us?”

Helaena smiled politely, her arms woven behind her, “That is a kind offer, Lady Ursula, but I was wishing for Lady Valeana’s company tonight. May you spare her this eve?” 

Valeana had been idly biting the nail of her thumb, an excuse to keep her fingers on her lips, trying to reenact what happened on the balcony a couple of hours ago. Aemond had left her shortly after their kiss when they heard her mother and Floris arguing when they stepped foot inside the apartment. He gave her one last searing kiss and told her that she would see him again that night, though did not specify how that would happen. Then he scaled down the side of the castle, to the gardens below, like some majestic silver-haired mountain goat. 

Ursula turned to Bartimos who looked just as surprised. The Celtigars were nearly a full unit that evening, save for Clement who had chosen to remain in the pavilions. Floris, who sat as far away from Valeana as possible, had muttered under her breath about how Helaena would be doing them a favour, that there will be finally food for everyone. Comments like these weren’t uncommon, even back on the Isle, Floris would make passive aggressive remarks at how much food Valeana had on her plate during meals. However, Floris was no longer a simple annoyance Val had to endure, she was worse, and Valeana wasn’t just going to ignore her jabs any longer.

Valeana swept herself up from her chair and answered before her father could for her, “I would love to keep you company, my Princess. I was just starting to get a headache– there’s an awful perfumy smell around that reminds me of a desperate old maid.”  

Arthor snorted into his drink, and Shyla sniffed the air naively, not aware that it was meant to be an insult. Floris shot her a dangerous look, but ultimately her lips buttoned and the jab went unnoticed by their parents. 

Weaving her arm into Helaena’s, she turned to Bartimos, “Is that alright, father?”

Bartimos hesitated, but he knew he could never deny the princess’s request. “Of course, of course. Will you need Steffon to collect you later?”

Helaena answered this time, “That won’t be necessary, Lord Bartimos. I have made accommodations for my friend to spend the night in my bedchambers.” 

Valeana raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t argue. Her father seemed conflicted, but with one sharp look from Ursula, he relented. As a woman who loved networking amongst her sex, she was not going to let her husband hinder a friendship between their daughter and the only daughter of Queen Alicent. 

With a nod, Bartimos conceded, “That is agreeable. Though, make sure to return her early on the morrow. I want her ready before Princess Rhaenyra arrives.” 

Making that promise, the two girls bid their goodbyes and promptly left. Ser Arryk was waiting for them outside, and dutifully followed them when they left. Valeana sent him a tentative wave and a sheepish smile.

The knight smirked, “Haven’t stolen any more cooking ale recently, have you, Lady Valeana?”

“The night is still young. I may need your assistance again, Ser Arryk.” 

He silently laughed, but made no more comments. 

After a moment, Valeana leaned into Helaena’s shoulder, her voice a whisper, “...Are you bringing me to…?”

The princess’s smile was small, but knowing, “I am.” 

Val ran a hand over her middle, suddenly feeling very nervous. The butterflies had not left her stomach; they flapped wildly at the memory of her first kiss. Her lips still tingled with the memory, desperate to feel the same euphoria again.

She had no intention of kissing Aemond so quickly, so soon. There was a weak moment the night of the Ball, when they were near the act. Had Daemon not interrupted, she wasn’t entirely sure where that night would have led to. However, when her mind was more sober, Valeana decided that she would take things slow with Aemond, since after all, her heart was still pained with his scorn; the monster that Aemond made himself out to be was firmly present in her mind. Even though her anger for him has become a softer presence, it was still there, stirring her paranoia over his true intentions. 

But when she looked into his eye, when she saw his smile, when she felt the warmth of his touch, it was so easy to ignore her anxiety. What was left, however, was her guilt, which she did not entirely understand. Aemond was not her husband, they had only reconciled nearly two days ago, so why did she feel like she committed adultery? Mayhaps it was because she had always believed her first everything would be with him. Her first kiss, which she grew up believing was the ultimate act of intimacy, always had to be with Aemond. There was that moment when they picnicked underneath the mulberry tree when she thought he was going to kiss her, but it ultimately never happened. She blamed it on her frazzled and sweaty appearance that had scared him off. 

The decision to kiss Aemond was incredibly impulsive. She was driven by the need to give him something that she had never given anyone else. Valeana’s first kiss will always belong to Aemond. 

But her first sexual encounter was with Aegon, a fact that she somehow knew would break Aemond. Actually, thinking back on it, Valeana remembered the comments about Aegon he had spat in her direction. Comments that implied that Aemond already believed that something was going on between her and his elder brother. 

“If you want pity, Celtigar, go run back into the arms and pillows of my brother. You shall not find it with me.” “Though mayhaps that is what you desire. To be felt up like a common tart.”

And yet he came to her on hands and knees. Did he still believe those assumptions? They were false then, but now, they were not, even if it had only happened once, and it was more one sided, messy and foolishly impulsive. Maybe she should stop drinking, because so far the times she has drunk herself silly, a Targaryen Prince’s mouth ends up on her tit somehow. 

… On second thought.

When they began walking up the stairs and entered the iron gates that separated the Royal Wing, Valeana craned her neck around in confusion. This is where the King and Queen resided, not where Helaena and her brothers’ apartments were. 

“Where are we going?”

The princess gave her a secretive smile, “To where the sun and moon meet.” 

Valeana peered at Helaena, expression full of confusion, “... Helaena, you are dear to me, but can you please speak plainly.” 

Her grin widened, but she stopped walking when they got to a door, ornate with polished oak and shiny brass fixtures. Valeana had only been in this part of the castle possibly twice in her lifetime, and one of those times was the other day. When they stopped at this large arched doorway, there wasn’t a single thing about it that she recognized, but it still felt…familiar, somehow. 

“We’re here,” Helaena announces with her hands clasped in front of her. She looked between the door and Valeana, and Valeana looked between her, the door, and Ser Arryk. 

“Where is ‘here’?” Val raised her eyebrows. 

“Queen Aemma’s private quarters,” the princess looked up at the door before running a hand over the brass bars, “It hasn’t been used since she died. Except by my father… and your mother, once upon a time.” 

Valeana’s eyebrows dropped, “My…My mother spent time here?”

Helaena nodded, and then moved over to the kingsguard’s side, “It was her favourite place to be… You should head on in. He’s waiting for you.”

Ser Arryk did not meet Val’s eye when she looked at him, almost like he was trying to pretend that he hadn’t heard Helaena. Trying to conserve as much deniability as possible, should anyone come asking questions. What an honourable man, Ser Arryk was, always escorting her and dropping her off in Aemond’s arms. 

Valeana bowed her head, “Thank you, Princess.”

With a kind smile and a tilt of her head, she wished her friend a good eve, and then left her alone at the door. Valeana casted an eye up to it, and then down to the handle, only giving a moment’s hesitation before she pulled and turned the loop to yank it open. She entered the vestibule, with tall arched vaulted ceilings and blue tapestries hanging on either side. It was dimly lit with only wall sconces lighting her way, but she could make out the white sheets that covered the furniture in the solar. Her feet softly padded along the carpeted floor, eyes roaming east where she saw a set of stairs leading up to another grand door, likely to Aemma’s bedchamber. Then she looked west, where a small antechamber led way to even larger arched oak doors. They were slightly ajar, with a warm light emitting from beyond. 

“Aemond?” Valeana tilted her head as she followed the light. The butterflies were still actively fluttering about in her stomach, even more so now that she approached the threshold. Beyond the doors was a marvellous library, not near as big as the Royal Library, but its decorated and intimate splendor was unparalleled. Curved shelves reached the ceiling, domed with a fresco of a night blue sky and constellations. On the west end of the room was a large arched window, looking out towards the cliff sides of the Keep, where she could clearly see beaches free of commoners. A telescope sat before it, along with a writing desk hidden under a white sheet. 

“Queen Aemma loved mapping out the stars,” the sudden appearance of Aemond’s voice startled her. Her body jolted, and when she spun to face him, he was trying to contain his mirth at her reaction. He was seated at a table full of food, a half eaten peach in his hand. “At least, that is what my father told me.”

“Just as much as you love to startle me?” Valeana’s hand was on her chest to control her startled heart, but that was a fruitless attempt. It was beating erratically regardless at the mere sight of him. The light of the hearth beside him lit up his every contour in an amber glow. His jerkin was discarded, as well as his belt and sword that sat next to the fireplace. The buttons of his black tunic undone down to the valley of his pectorals, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was loose and untethered, one side brushed over his ear where the strap of his eyepatch went over. 

Val suddenly felt very wobbly on her knees. Her mouth watered, and it was not because she didn’t eat supper yet. Perhaps the butterflies in her stomach were actually moths, because they desperately fluttered around inside her, trying to reach Aemond’s flame. 

Fucking hells, she thought, openly staring at the way his long legs stretched out before him, taking up as much space as possible. What a terrible week to be bleeding.

“Probably less,” he smirked, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. “Are you hungry?”

She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded, “Ravish–I mean, famished.” 

When she made no move to reach for a seat, he raised an eyebrow at her, then pulled out the chair next to him. Blushing heavily, Valeana scrambled to sit down, immediately facing the food. She hadn’t a single thought in that empty little head of hers. Not anything profound, really. 

“Are you alright, Valeana?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, confirming her suspicion that he knew exactly what he was doing. 

She slowly turned her head in his direction while he made her plate – soft shell crab, deviled eggs, peeled shrimp drenched in herbed butter. Oysters. There were figs, mulberries, peaches, and pomegranates on the table. 

Somehow, by the power of sass, she found her voice, “Are you trying to seduce me, Prince Aemond?”

He chuckled lowly, moving onto his plate, “Woo you, more like. Is it working?”

Tentatively, she picked up her fork and stabbed into a shrimp, “You bring me into a secluded secret library of a late Queen, have almost all my favourite food accounted for, and you–” she briefly gave him a once over, “Shedded layers. It may be working, yes.” 

The Prince’s smile widened, enough for her to see his teeth, and she noticed that he had that same lopsided smile she always loved so dearly. Then, Aemond reached for an oyster (already shucked) and tilted the shell back into his mouth, slurping up the contents. The shrimp she was chewing was slowly being forgotten until she was forced to swallow. 

“No pearl?” She picked up her goblet to bring to her lips. 

He hummed, looking at the empty shell, and then back at her. His eye traveled southward, “Not in this one.” 

Swallowing her wine felt like she was swallowing gristle, “Seven, Aemond. When did you get so amorous?”

“I am a man, Valeana.” 

She eyed him up and down, humming, “And here I thought you were a cat.” 

He pursed his lips in amusement, dropping  the shell onto his plate with a clank. Then suddenly, Valeana felt herself being jerked towards him. He had grabbed the chair legs and yanked her closer until her side was cradled between his knees. She stared at him wide eyed and smooth brained. 

He took her left hand, the pads of his calloused fingers running along her knuckles, “Would you like to check for yourself?” Val’s mouth popped open at the question, but before she could vocalize a word – or produce a thought, really – he moved her hand into the opening of his tunic, splaying her fingers over the bare skin of his pec, right above his heart. 

Smooth, firm, warm. Definitely not a cat. 

“Hol–ee, hmmm…” She cleared her throat, eyes glued to the exposed pale skin of his chest. Even if he removed his hand from hers, Valeana was fairly certain at this point her palm was sweaty enough to create a suction. “Def-definitely a man.” 

“Are you sure you’re not wholly convinced?” He leaned in until his nose nudged against her cheek. “There’s more to explore.” 

Valeana’s eyes fluttered closed, fingers curling over the firm expanse of his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, just as frantic as her own. Suddenly she had no appetite, at least not for food. Her core ached, so much so she rubbed her thighs together, and clenched around the cotton plug. A painful reminder that she could not seek out her pleasure, not in the ways she wanted to. Though, perhaps that was for the best. When her mind found clarity, she would be reminded that Aemond was not entirely forgiven. Though, he was quickly climbing up to that finish line. 

“You do not need to make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

No, he was making it so, so fucking easy, and it shouldn’t be. After all he’s done, after all he’s said. No, perhaps the Mother knew what she was doing when she chose this week for her bleed. Aemond needed more time. 

“Aemond,” Valeana spoke with a stronger tone. When she tried to pull her hand away from his chest, she found she simply could not. Not because he had anchored her to him, but because the feel of his heart beneath her fingers was the only thing that reminded her that this was real. And it stuttered when she pulled her face away, “It’s… it’s not the right moment.” 

She felt her heart shatter at the way he was looking at her. That one lilac eye struggled to keep composure, but she could see the letdown, the sadness, the defeat. He offered her a small understanding smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I understand. We can finish our meal, and I’ll have a kingsguard bring you back,” his words were monotonous, carefully controlled to conceal his crippling disappointment. 

Valeana immediately shook her head, fingers grasping at his heart, “No, no, I don’t want that– I want to remain here with you, Aemond. I just–I’m not ready to go that far. It’s too early.” 

Aemond’s face visibly softened, the smile appearing more genuine. His fingers curled around her hand at his chest before he moved his other to glide along the roundness of her cheek, “Hm, I see now. I will behave myself, I promise. Your virtue is in safe hands.”

She smiled back at him, leaning against his touch, “You may covet my lips, though.”

The ends of his coiled smile deepened. With a hum, he leaned in closer, this time his nose bumping against hers, “Good. They were all I hungered for these last few hours.”

Without another word, his mouth was upon hers. The taste of the sea upon his lips, the nectar of peach on his tongue. It was a bizarre combination, but Aemond’s lips were the gates of the heavens, and his tongue might as well have been the fruit of the gods. With grasping hands and greedy fingers, Aemond had maneuvered Valeana onto his knee without breaking their heated kiss. 

Her hand was still atop his breast, addicted to the rhythm of his heart and the firmness of his muscle. Her other draped around his shoulder, fingers tangled in the perfect strands of his moonlight tresses. When Valeana felt his hands upon her waist, where his thumbs gently grazed the curve of her breasts, she let out a little whimper. A whimper that forced him to pull away from her, if only a fraction. 

“If you make noises like that, I will not be able to keep my promise.” 

She softly laughed through her nose, then finally released her hand from his chest, just to move it up the length of his neck and over his cheek. “Then mayhaps we should save the kisses for dessert.”

Aemond made a grunt of disapproval, but ultimately caved, “Hmmm, Fine.”

With a smile she lifted her chin so she could plant a kiss upon his brow, his eye closing for the moment in contentment. They resumed their dinner, though she remained where she was on his knee, and they picked at each other’s plate in idle conversation.

“You used to abhor seafood,” she remarked as he slurped down yet another oyster. “Now look at you. Eat any more oysters, and you really won’t be able to hold onto your promise.” 

With a smirk, he tossed another shell onto the pile he had created. No pearls in this batch. Aemond turned to her, still perched on his leg, now licking her butter-coated fingers, the sight of which was absolute torture. His top teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eye glued onto her mouth. 

“I never believed they were an aphrodisiac,” he turned away, trying to distract himself with a sip of wine. “At least not for me. Mayhaps I simply have a refiner pallet. Many things that fuel a man’s lust do not have the same effect on me.” 

Valeana eyed him skeptically, as she had a sudden growing urge to prove him wrong. Aemond still felt he was better than any man, that his will was mightier in all ways. And yet the yellowed remnants of his love marks still lingered on her breasts, a visual proof that wasn’t the case.

“And what does fuel your lust, my darling friend?” 

When Aemond turned to her, he leaned back against the chair to assess her carefully. His hand was on her waist still, securing her back as she stayed perched on him. Long fingers traced along the velvet fabric of her dress, reaching up to the laces on her back. 

“You want the truth of it?” 

Valeana nodded. 

Aemond sucked on his bottom lip as if contemplating if he should give her the truth of it. After a beat of him battling his thoughts, he moved his second hand to her waist, weaving his fingers together so she was caged in his arms. 

He dipped his head next to her ear and said softly, “The hardest I have ever been was when I heard you speak Valyrian. I sat there, next to you, a quiet fool, itching to stroke myself.”

A shudder ran down her spine, and she involuntarily clenched her thighs. Valeana raised her hooded gaze to meet his eye, and despite the overwhelming sense of shyness she felt over the confession, she felt bold enough to speak. 

“Iksis bona sīr, ñuha raqiros?” (Is that so, my friend?)

Aemond’s eye closed as he grumbled low in his throat. His hands gripped at her dress as he pulled her closer, until her side was fully flushed against his chest, “Gaomagon ao jorarghugon naejot amīvindigon nyke, Valeana?” (Do you seek to torture me, Valeana?)

His voice was a low base in his chest, making the back of her neck tingle, and her face heat up. “You deserve nothing less.” 

Aemond’s touch softened at that, but still kept her close. Instead his head dipped so he was in the cradle between her neck and shoulder, resting his forehead there while his fingers gently massaged the curve of her hip. 

“You are right,” he sighs. “Mayhaps that is how we should spend the rest of the evening. Torture me with your silver tongue, and make me beg for a taste of it.” 

Her breath hitched in her throat. Between the timber of his voice, the words he spoke with it, and the intimate way she was seated on him, Valeana was having a very hard time keeping her convictions. There was just something about him being so pathetic and needy that sent a whirlpool of arousal in her stomach. She could feel herself cave, with every caress of his hands, how they firmly yet softly roamed over the hills of her sides, her back, the tops of her thighs. Aemond’s fingers ghosted just under her breast, never quite touching, but never that far away from them either.

It was getting too much, too over stimulating, that she had to pull away. Valeana pulled herself from his lap with a flushed face, and actively avoided his penetrating stare, which was likely offended that she had removed herself from his orbit.

“It is getting late,” She announced, mind racing, heart pounding, trying to find a way to calm the evening before she did something stupid. She glided around his chair, and started to walk the length of the library, to the east side where she noticed a reading nook nestled amongst the bookshelves, an arched window tucked inside. It was more of a bed than a sofa, with a plush mattress, a collection of pillows and a wool blanket folded up in the corner. 

Aemond stood up almost as soon as she did, moving around his chair to reach her. “Do you wish to leave?” There was a slight urgency in his tone, one which she quickly settled by turning around and smiling. 

“No. I told you I don’t… But it is late, and the morrow brings us a long day,” she turned around, moving over to the reading nook. “Do you remember how we used to sneak into the library and you would read to me until we fell asleep?”

The sharp edges of his face softened, his eye watching her with such a deep fondness, that had she looked up at him she would have been rendered speechless at the sight. Instead she walked along the bookshelves that surrounded the plush nook, hands moving along the spines, noting how they were all Valyrian. 

“Of course I do,” Aemond moved closer until he was at her back. His hands draped over her shoulders, then moved down until they were lacing her fingers and his chin was resting on her shoulder. He folded their arms across her chest, pulling her flushed against him. “How could I forget that snoring?”

Valeana huffed in annoyance, and when he chuckled lowly at the reaction, she spoke a smidge bitterly: “Well, in that case, I can go sleep in Helaena’s room–”

“No, no,” he nuzzled her neck, planting greedy little kisses along it, giving her a field of goosebumps. “You’re staying here, with me. But tonight… It’ll be you who reads.”

Valeana leaned her head back, which only encouraged him more to leave a trail of fire along the exposed flesh in the junction between her shoulder and neck. “You’re a masochist now, Aemond?”

“Mērī lēda ao, ñuha gevie.” (Only with you, my beautiful)

Reluctantly he pulled away from her, unraveling his hands before he could pull her rear against his pelvis to show her just how tortured he actually was. “Queen Aemma has quite the collection. You will have quite a selection to choose from.”

Valeana sighed, her shoulders caving in the absence of his body. She could feel the damp spots he left along the ridge of her neck and shoulder, burning and yearning for more. Wasn’t it she that was supposed to be torturing him?

She couldn’t concentrate as she perused the books, but she tried. Tilting her head, she forced herself to read the titles, quickly translating them in her mind. There were a lot of histories, a lot about astronomy, one book was even about the mating rituals of dragons. Val’s finger lingered on that one, simply because of the absurdity of it. 

“Do you have a preference?” She decided to ask, moving closer to the nook, where the books got smaller, more frayed. More personal. 

“I would have you read me every single book in this library, if we had the time,” He answered from the other side of the nook, where he also browsed the titles. 

“I feel like that would kill you,” she joked, glancing over and taking in his regal profile and the outlines of his chest through the thin material of his tunic. 

“What a lovely way to die,” he smiled, tilting his head back at her. “Mayhaps that is when I’ll finally be forgiven. It would be well worth it.” 

Valeana’s features grew soft at that. She had no words for him, because she had no words for herself. It was like she was on a battlefield, and the soldiers were versions of her. Those who fought for peace, those that fought for vengeance, all in pursuit of claiming and protecting her heart. Whenever she felt she was close to giving in and forgiving Aemond, and succumbing to her weakness for him, intrusive reminders of what he had said to her would invade the plains of her consciousness. 

“If you want pity, Celtigar, go run back into the arms and pillows of my brother. You shall not find it with me.” “I do not give a shit about her. I never have, and the Seven knows I never will.”  “What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!”  “Get away from me, you pig!”

“But I will spend the rest of my life in dedication to the pursuit of being worthy of your forgiveness. Worthy of your touch. Worthy of your lips. Worthy of the air you breathe. I need you to know that I am yours, should you still want me. If you ever did.”

Valeana blinked rapidly when she felt her eyes start to sting, then directed her attention back to the books. However, she couldn’t even focus on the titles, so instead she reached out and snatched the first one within her grasp. A small, frayed blue book, with an embossed rose on the leather cover, and two simple words gilded underneath, “Prūmia Udrir.” Heart Language.

“I found a book of poems,” she softly declared, gently opening up the cover and seeing the stained, dog-eared parchment. Val smiled fondly at it, “It looks well loved.” 

Aemond returned to his side, bringing his scent and heat with him, instantly flooding her mind with longing. Her morose musings were completely forgotten, now that she was in his orbit. Leaning over her shoulder to read the title of the book, his breath tickled her cheeks as he hummed his approval, “Appropriate.” 

“Time to get settled in, then,” clutching the book in her hand, Valeana walked over to the nook and sat on the edge to toe off her shoes. Glancing up,she saw that Aemond was doing the same, while also unbuttoning his tunic.

She immediately froze, “Wh-what are you doing?”

He smirked, “Getting comfortable. Generally I sleep in the nude, but… I am supposed to be behaving tonight.”

Valeana’s face turned into a tomato as his hands unfastened the last button of his tunic before he pulled the rest off his head, “R-right…” Words continue to fail her this evening. 

Her mouth fell open at the sight of him: remarkably pale skin, chiseled out of marble, every curve and sharp edge of his body was utter perfection. There wasn’t a part on his torso she wasn’t drinking in; Valeana was desperate to memorize every centimeter of skin, right down to the V at his hips, which is where her eyes found rest. 

“Hells…”

Aemond slowly padded towards the mattress where she sat, then hooked his finger under her chin to force her to look at him. “My face is up here, sweetheart.” 

Valeana swallowed, “I thought I was the one doing the torturing tonight?”

He chuckled, then leaned in to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, “You are already doing a marvelous job without trying. Though, as much as I love to see that hunger-panged look you have, if my body makes you uncomfortable, I can redress–”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He grinned broadly, “As my lady wishes.” Aemond then took a moment to assess her state, before tilting his head, “Don’t you wish to undress?”

Valeana flushed vividly, “What?” 

“I only meant– wouldn’t you like to be more comfortable? Isn’t that dress incredibly tight?”

It was, like most of her gowns. Even if it was more modest and had less layers, it was still designed to conceal as much of her stomach as she possibly could. Sleeping in it would be uncomfortable. She did have a shift underneath though, and it was burgundy, like the dress, so it would not be sheer. Still, the thought of having such a thin piece of clothing separating her from Aemond was… nerve wracking. 

And exciting. 

Clearing her throat, Valeana shifted so her back was slightly turned, “Can you loosen these?” 

Aemond sat down on the mattress behind her, then gently moved her braid over her shoulder. His fingers grazed along the expanse of her shoulder blades, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Reaching the laces, he untied the knot and began to pull the corset loose, all the while keeping his pointer finger under the hem so he could trail it along her spine. Valeana shut her eyes and sighed, at both being freed from the confines of her bodice, and from the intimate touch. 

“Why do you wear so many layers?” His question came softly and curiously. 

“To hide my body,” her answer came just as softly. 

His movements paused, “Why would you do that?”

Valeana turned her head, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, “Aemond–”

“You have a gorgeous body,” he resumed, finishing off the laces before having his hands crawl around her middle and folding over her belly. Then he tugged her onto his lap, leant in and kissed the back of her neck and along the length of her right shoulder. “You always have.” 

Valeana sighed, her head falling back against him. With his hands on her belly, she felt far more self conscious than she did the day his hands and mouth were on her breasts, all exposed and sweaty. But his touch sent tingles of desire and warmth in its wake, and as much as her nature wishes to recoil, she didn’t. 

“Aemond–” She pleads his name a second time, whether it is for him to stop or continue, she isn’t entirely sure. 

“If you don’t believe me, let me show you,” he reaches down and bunches up the burgundy skirt in his fist, pulling it over her thighs. 

“Aemond,” She pleaded a third time, this time with a little more force. She was aroused beyond sense, but the reminder of her moon’s blood was enough to shake her back to reality. Valeana pulled herself off his lap, but didn’t step away from him, just stayed a few inches away as she stood up. “I told you it’s not the right moment.” 

Aemond sighed through his nose, his frustration evident, but he swallowed it down. “Apologies,” He ran his hand through his hair. “I promised I would behave, and I am failing.” 

“Trust me, Aemond, if it were any other week, I would not want you to,” if she were in any other state of mind, she would have more sense to say no without needing an excuse. But Valeana wanted him, convictions be damned. 

He peered at her curiously, “What do you–”

“I’m bleeding,” she smiled awkwardly with a roll of her eye. “An incredible inconvenience, I assure you.”

Aemond blinked at her before his features softened to a slightly amused one, “Ah.” He looked down at the burgundy gown, and realized it all made sense now. With a soft chuckle, he moved his body further into the nook, and beckoned her, “Then we shall be inconvenienced together.” 

Valeana rolled her eyes again, shaking her head with an embarrassed grin. “Seven help me… One moment.” 

Aemond watched with complete enraptured silence as she pulled off the dress over her head, and then shimmied out of the petticoat underneath. All that was left was the shift she wore, too dark to see through the fabric, but thin enough that he could see the curve of her rear. Especially prominent when she sat down on the edge of the mattress. 

Clearing her throat, she bunched up her chemise on her left side, “This will only take a minute.” 

Aemond felt a wave of gooseflesh ripple throughout his body at the sight of her wooden prosthetic. It was almost too easy to forget its existence, with how she carries herself as if it were her actual flesh appendage. Though its appearance simply reminded him of his life’s mistakes, and that instantly humbled him. Suddenly he felt so incredibly foolish, trying to seduce her and being greedy for her body, when he already robbed a part of her. 

With practiced ease, the type that comes from doing such an act multiple times a day, every day for a decade, Valeana unbuckled her prosthetic from her thigh and slowly slotted it off. She could feel his eye on her, which made her all the more self conscious about it, but sleeping with her wooden leg always made her thighs sore from chaffing, her knee stiff, and her stump itchy from sweat. With a contented sigh, she laid it against the bookcase that framed their alcove, and then slowly unbound the linens around her severed appendage. 

Valeana could feel Aemond’s breath on her shoulder, and when she turned to look, he was hovering over her, looking at her leg with an almost unreadable expression. Perhaps it was sorrow and guilt, but there was an underlying anger as well, likely at himself. 

Saving him from his self loathing, Valeana pushed the curtain of her shift back over her knee, “Are we settled?” 

He shifted behind her, “Not quite.” 

Twisting around, she watched as he hooked the strap of the leather patch with a finger and pulled it off his head. His hair fell like a curtain of moonlight around his slender face, shadowing the deep blue sapphire gem embedded in his scared eye. Valeana felt her nose tingle at the sight, as she felt remnants of mourning of the young boy he used to be, his face complete, unshattered, and untouched by violence. After he reached over to place the piece of leather on the bookshelf, Valeana captured the sides of his face with her hands and brought his lips onto hers. Aemond made no movement of protest or hesitation; he fell into the dance of lips, tongue, and teeth with equal longing and need. 

Valeana let out a sigh as her back settled in the pillows, lips still locked with Aemond’s. He hovered over her, hands holding himself up on either side of her head. In the end, it was he who ended their kiss, as much as he loathed it. If they continued in this position, he would have his hips rutting in between hers, bleeding be damned. 

Valeana gave a little sound of disappointment, which earned her a little smile from the man who hovered over her body. Her hands moved from his face, over his shoulders and clavicle, until they found a home along his chest and abs. That smile broadened. 

“Still inspecting?”

“Not entirely convinced you’re not a cat,” she replied, lips pulled into a sheepish pout. 

Biting his lip to contain his chuckle, Aemond quickly grabbed the book and placed it in her hand, “Now you’re the one who must behave.” He moved off of her, settling in the space between her and the window, arm reaching out to snag the wool blanket and pulled it over their bodies.

Meanwhile, Valeana moved back so she was in more of a sitting position, and as she was about to open the book, Aemond slotted to her side. His chin rested on her shoulder, and his arm draped over her middle to keep her close. She took a moment to breathe in the moment, allowing a familiar warmth and comfort to fill her bones and relax her shoulders. This felt right. This felt perfect. This felt like something she could do for the rest of her life.

She rested her cheek upon his head and opened the cover, then flipped a few pages before she found the words and began to read. Aemond sighed deeply under her, his eye falling shut at the sound of her timbre reverberating through him, releasing all the tension in his bones and muscles. 

And so they remained like that, for a little while, as Valeana read every delicate page she could. Each line more beautiful than the next, made for a tongue such as hers. When she felt the full weight of Aemond’s head on her shoulder, and heard his heavy breathing, she slowly stopped reading. Gently placing the book to her side, she lifted her head and peered to check if he had actually fallen asleep. The loose grip he had on her waist and his closed eye confirmed it. Valeana couldn’t help but smile fondly down at him, looking so peaceful in the dim light. The hearth had dwindled down to red embers, the sconces had lost oil, and the candles were being darkened by their self-snuffers. It was time for her to call it a night as well.

Valeana ran her free hand over the crown of his head, threading her fingers through the silky strands, and ghosting her fingers over the shape of his jaw. He was so unbelievably handsome, it felt like a sin to look at him in this peaceful state. Even his sapphire eye, always open, glaring at her like the midnight sky. Sapphires had always been her favourite, and she wondered if he chose it specifically for that reason, subconsciously or with intention. 

Careful not to disturb his slumber, she slid down to a lying position, softly moving his head from her shoulder and onto the pillows behind them. She then positioned her body so it was facing his, making sure to keep his arm draped around her middle, keeping him as close as possible. The book was wedged between them, so she plucked it by the back cover and went to move it to the floor, but the sight of a handwritten note on the back made her pause. 

Squinting in the dark, Valeana tried to read the crude attempt at Valyrian script. 

“Se vēzos naejot ñuha hūra Nyke jehikagon kesrio syt hen aōha ōños Dōrī isse mēre jēdar Kessa mirre sagon isse sȳndor Ēva īlon ékleipsis arlī”

“The sun to my moon

I shine because of your light

Never in one sky

Will ever be in shadow

Until we eclipse again. - L.” 

“Engagement?! What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!” 

“Aemond, I– my father—” 

“Get away from me, you pig!” 

With peridot eyes rolling into the back of her head, Valeana slipped into the void with a cry for help, a cry for him. Then a loud snap, like a clap of thunder overhead, followed by an ear-bleeding scream that would forever echo in Aemond’s skull. 

He woke up with a violent jerk, muscles tense, chest heaving. He thought he saw blood on his hands, but he was just fisting the fabric of Valeana’s burgundy chemise. Valeana. She was here, she was with him. They were in Queen Aemma’s library still. She had her back turned to him and he was still holding onto her from behind, moulding his sharp corners with her soft round ones. Something had fallen, he had suspected, which forced him to wake up in a startle. Glancing at the window, he could see rain softly hitting the glass that served as a background for their little nook, but there was no thunder to be heard. 

Blinking rapidly, Aemond tried to rid his eyes of sleep so he could peer into the darkness. Tentatively, he sat up on his elbow to cast a look around the library, but found no one. He waited, trying to listen for any sounds that may betray the presence of a hidden figure, but he heard nothing. He shifted further, peering over Valeana’s body so he could crane his neck to see their flanked sides, and that is when he spotted her prosthetic lying on the floor. That is what fell. 

The sight of it was agony.

A sharp snap, and a scream. A bone peaking out through torn white flesh, blood on the floor, blood on his hands.

Aemond pulled his eye away from the offending piece of wood, then rested it on her form next to him: curled up on her side, hand tucked beneath the pillow, and softly snoring. Then he trailed his gaze down the length of her body, along the knolls of her curves, down the slope of her hip and thigh. Her legs disappeared underneath the woolen blanket, where he stared the longest. 

Aemond was a masochist… But only for her. 

He reached out and gently moved the blanket, and then slowly lifted her shift until he could see the rounded end of her calf. A few inches below the knee, soft muscle smoothed around what was left of her calf bone. To drive the knife in, her left leg tangled with her perfect right one. A single foot, a single calf. 

Aemond’s fingers trembled when he reached out to touch her knee. He caressed it, as if it were a newborn’s head, fearful that he might damage it further. The tips of his fingers moved lower, trembling more now that he reached the end point of her leg. It was calloused at the stump, likely due to the prosthetic, likely due to years of having to relearn how to walk in ways very few humans would understand. 

Was it still painful? Could she feel sharp pain in her knee whenever she walked, but hid it behind a sarcastic smile? His empty eye used to get sharp pains every once in a while, as if a knife had pierced through it again, though that had subsided with age, now it was only a dull sting. More often it was the headaches, like icepicks to his temples, mainly behind his right eye now that it had to compensate for the missing left. 

Did she experience the same with her right leg? 

 “Save your breath, Valeana. You’re almost out of it.”

He made her run alongside his horse. 

At the intruding reminder his chest constricted, and he squeezed his eye tightly shut, grimacing at the memory. The sting of his greatest regrets and sins burned behind his lid, tingled his nose, and shook his bones like an earthquake. Aemond grit his teeth so tightly, he could feel it at his temples throbbing as he tried to literally bite back his tears. He was holding his breath, a fact he hadn’t realized until his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, forcing him to inhale sharply and effectively breaking the dam. The trembling that started from his hands now reached every corner of his body, making him shake as if he was caught nude beyond the protection of the Wall.

Aemond gasped as his grief overtook his body. The tears clouded his only eye, spilling down the creases of his cheeks, and dripped down to the point of his chin. He then bowed his head onto her hip, shaking hands grabbing onto her sides to remind himself that she was here, and she was alive. Though perhaps he did not deserve what remained of her. Perhaps he should let her go, into the arms of Aegon, or Jacaerys, or whomever that would make her happy. 

His body curled into her side, arms latching around her left leg as he violently sobbed into her hip. The words “I’m sorry” tumbled out of his quivering lips over and over again, a broken prayer, a shuddered plea. 

“I’m so sorry, my friend. My beautiful Valeana… What have I done… What have I done…” 

Aemond’s unworthy lips kissed her knee and what remained of her lower leg. His tears stained her chemise, head still bowed upon her, a sinner at the feet of the Maiden.

In the sanctuary of the darkness, Aemond freed the beast that he had been afraid of all these years. With green eyes and claws of vengeance, her name was grief, her name was guilt, her name was shame. He could do nothing but present his neck to her, offering up his life and hope it will be enough. 

Valeana stirred in her sleep. Her legs moved as she gave a gentle stretch, along with a contented moan. Aemond was forced to pull away as she adjusted herself on the small bed, moving from her right side, onto her left, now facing him. 

“Mm, Aemond,” his name tumbled from her pouty lips, while her hand blindly reached out for him. 

Mutely, he moved back to her. Lifting her arm so it was draped over his waist, and then placed his own on hers. Aemond then wove his leg around hers, bringing her closer until she was tucked under her chin and secured to his chest. 

“Ñuha vēzos,” he whispered into the crown of her head. “Iksan indignus hen aōha ōños.”

(My sun. I am unworthy of your light.)

CHAPTER THIRTY SNEAK PEAK

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?” “Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?”  Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack of making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade.  “To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw. 

Notes: What a couple of sad, sad horny yougens. Anyway, I loved this chapter, and I hope you guys did too. It's a meaty one, with a lot of conflicting feelings, which I hope gives the vibe I wanted to, which is emotional confusion. Also, I just love when strong men get super pathetic. Oh, and one more thing: The Valyrian Moan found in the book is a haiku written by me. It's the only poem thingy that I did not have AI help me write. Haikus are the only thing I can do. It also 👀hints a little bit at the prequel mini series.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[allkordelia]

Keep Me Near Your Heart 1

Jaenara chewed her bottom lip as her eyes flickered around the room, wondering why so many people had to come. It was difficult to see where her family was amidst the crowd, the last person she had spotted was her aunt leaving the great hall, followed by her great uncle a few minutes later.

Growing tired of the feast, her feet ached from the small heels her mother had forced her to wear, and the dress her step-grandmother had made for her felt tight and itchy on her mid-back. She walked through the crowd, giving small smiles and curt nods to guests who congratulated her on her marriage while trying to find Alys or Alyssa.

It didn't feel like she had gotten married. It felt like another obligatory celebration she had to attend. If it weren't for the guests approaching her to offer their congratulations, it would have felt like any other family gathering. However, there was a tense and awkward ambiance between Jaenara's family and Aemond's family. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time, except for her. She doubted anyone cared about how she felt.

"Thank the gods. I finally found you..." Jaenara turned her head at the sound of Alys's flat voice as she approached. Alys wore a timid smile, her hands clasping the skirt of her crimson gown.

"Thank the gods that you did," she replied, smiling at Alys and looping their arms together. Alys gave a small smirk before she led them through the crowd of guests.

"So..." she eyed Alys as she spoke, then looked away, "...are you...having fun?" Alys asked.

"It's...yes, I am..." Jaenara gave Alys a small smile. "I have met a lot of people...and...um, everyone's so nice, so..." she trailed off, casting her eyes down. She couldn't bring herself to finish the lie she had been telling the lords and ladies, and she doubted Alys would believe it anyway.

"It's a bit draining," she said as they stopped and turned to face each other. "I think I will retire early." Alys nodded with a thoughtful look.

"I think I will too... I can spend the night in your chamber and we can stay up and talk," Alys suggested, smiling. Jaenara smiled back at Alys, grateful for the offer.

"Really? That would be great," Jaenara said, Alys's smile widened before quickly turning into a scowl. Jaenara tilted her head at her friend and reached out to touch her upper arm. "Hey, what's wrong-"

"I hope I'm not interrupting," a familiar deep voice interrupted. Jaenara turned in surprise to see Aemond standing there, she moved to stand beside Alys to look up at aemond.

"Of course not, uncle. We were just about to go to bed," Jaenara said, glancing over at Alys.

"Hmmm, I am feeling a bit tired myself. I'll escort you," Aemond said, his hands behind his back and a placid look on his face. Jaenaea glanced at Alys, who glared at Aemond before looking back at him.

"W-Well, uncle we--"

"Aemond," he said, making Jaenara purse her lips. "Or husband, if you prefer it." He jests as the corner of his lips lifts slightly, displaying a faint smile.

"O-okay, Aemond..." Jaenara started, and Aemond tilted his head slightly to the side, returning to his usual blank expression. "...but I already have an escort." She looked over at Alys with a small smile, and Alys looked back at Jaenara with a similar expression before Jaenara turned her gaze back to Aemond, who narrowed his eyes at Jaenara before glancing at Alys.

"But, it is our wedding day. We must go to bed together," Aemond said, and Jaenara frowned.

"Must we?" She asked, and he nodded, causing her to turn to Alys. She looked back at her cousin with a sad frown. "Maybe she can join us," she suggested after a moment, turning to look back at Aemond.

Aemond spluttered, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. "S-She cannot come to our marital bed. It is profane...and it has to be only us," he said, and Jaenara let out a disappointed moan before looking at Alys to bid her goodnight. However, alys stepped forward, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Then, I will sleep on the couch," Alys insisted, making Aemond look at her, confusion furrowing his brows.

"That is not the issue. Jaenara and I must consummate our marriage together and alone," Aemond explained. Alys furrowed her brows, clearly confused, as Jaenara frowned.

There's that word again. She remembers asking her mother about it when she was getting ready, but she said it wasn't an important subject to talk about at the moment.

"Consummate?" Alys mumbles to herself, pulling Jaenara from her thoughts as Jaenara looks at Alys and then at Aemond, he chuckles low moving his hand to scratch at his cheek below his eyepatch.

"You will learn what is it once you are married, cousin." Aemond chuckled again making Jaenara and Alys look at each other before looking at him, "Now, come along wife." Aemond says moving to hold out his arm for Jaenara to take, I look at him for a second before looking at Alys who wears a small frown.

"I'll see you in the morning, you sit next to me at breakfast, right?" Alys looked at Jaenara again before smiling at her.

"Of course." Alys moved to engulf her cousin who thought as a sister in a hug making Jaenara hug her back, "Sleep well." She says before they pull away from each other.

"Goodnight, sister." Jaenara moves from Alys's grasp to grab hold of Aemond's arm.

Alys wiggled her fingers sadly at Jaenara as Aemond pulled her along, jaenara gave her cousin one last smile before turning to follow Aemond out of the great hall. They walk in silence as he guides Jaenara through the halls toward their new quarters, jaenara glances at him from the corner of her eye from time to time to admire how grown up her uncle has become.

He has grown tall. He looks so different yet his demeanor remains the same, he wasn't the small boy who used to pick on her and put dirt in her hair. He seems more mature and wise. And frightening.

Jaenara stopped glancing at him and focused her eyes on her feet, she counted in her head every step that she took until she was interrupted suddenly by Aemond.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" His deep smooth voice made Jaenara turn her head up to look at Aemond as he turned to look at her.

"Um, yes...it was nice" she replied meekly, aemond hummed before looking away from her making Jaenara chew her lip as they fell silent again for a moment before Jaenara broke it, "How about you? Did you enjoy yourself, my prince?" She asks trying to make small talk, Aemond turns his head to look at her again.

"It was fine. The only thing that kept it from being dreary was watching baelor and corwyn try to out-drink Aeron." Jaenaea hummed.

"Who won?" Aemond looks at her with a small grin.

"Aeron. But, only because corwyn passed out and baelor retched all over himself before he could finish his drink." She grimaces.

"Ewww." She drawls out causing Aemond to let out a soft chortle, she stares at him in awe at how youthful he sounded.

Sometimes she forgets he's just one spring older than her, the scar where his eye used to be makes him seem older. He also looks handsome. Jaenara usually never noticed that before in men, aemond was truly beautiful, so why did he choose her to marry? When coming here she expected him to be so cruel to her, especially after what jacerys told her. Jaenara couldn't remember a lot before, but now little pieces come from time to time. Some good. Some bad. It did answer a lot of questions that she wanted to ask but was too nervous to do.

Aemond turned his head slightly to look down at Jaenara making her catch his eye, she realized she had been staring at him for quite some time now making her look away quickly as her face heated up embarrassed.

Training her eyes to her feet again, after a moment she glanced back to look at him to see him smirking with a smug look. Jaenara cast her eyes away and looked ahead as they turned the corner and two knights came into view as they stood by a door.

"Ser Krey. Ser Ashford." Aemond spoke making the knights turn their heads to look at them.

"My prince." They said in unison bowing their heads at him, the knight with dark black hair poking out from under his helmet lift his head catching Jaenara's eye.

His green eyes widened a bit making her give him a curious look as to why he was staring at her like that, did she have something on her face, she wondered. She moves to brush her cheek with her hand before dropping it to her side, the young knight blinks at her before casting his eyes somewhere else.

"This is princess jaenara velaryon," Aemond introduced her, "My wife." Jaenara looks at him as he stares down at her with a small smile making her mirror him before he turns away to look at the knights again, "Is our chamber ready?" He asks causing the older knight with a brown beard with a flicker of grey in it to answer.

"Yes, my prince." Aemond hummed.

They stood silent making her glance at Aemond as he stared at the door as if waiting for something, jaenara glanced at the older knight as he cleared his throat before casting his eyes over to the young knight who was sneaking looks at her.

"Ser Krey." The knight known as Krey looks away from Jaenara to the other knight.

"Hmm?" Ser Ashford motioned to the door making a look of realization dawn on Krey, "Oh, yes, sorry." He mumbled as he stepped from his post and opened the door for Jaenara and Aemond.

"After you, dove."

She looked at Aemond slightly surprised at the nickname, a warm feeling crept up to her chest and spread up her neck to her cheeks, he stared at her with a patient look waiting for her to go ahead. She cast her eyes away from his intense violet eyes before she pulled away from him and held the skirt of her white gown as she saunter ahead not before looking at Krey whose eyes were focused on the floor as she passed him.

Jaenara stopped midway in stepping inside standing at the edge of the threshold and looking in awe at the spacious room, this was to be my new apartment, she stepped in further spinning as she looked around the room.

She turns to look at Aemond to find him whispering to Krey, the young knight downcast with an expressionless look. When he lifted his eyes he looked right at me making me look away, she went back to admiring the decor of the apartment taking in the lit parlor.

"Do like it?" Aemond asked making her turn around to see him walk towards her, the knight was gone and the door was closed leaving us alone. Together.

"Oh, yes it's lovely." Aemond hummed with a small smile as a look of pride played on his features.

"Mother thought the dark colors would be too much," He said looking around, jaenara followed suit as she took in her surroundings.

"I prefer it, it reminds me of dragonstone a little bit." She looks at him at the same time as he looks back at her.

Aemond hummed with a nod, "Well, let me show you to our chamber." Aemond took her hand guiding her toward a double door with two handles shaped in the form of two dragons, he let go of her hand and pulled the doors open before stepping aside to let me go in.

The chamber was nice and lit as Jaenara looked around the room, she passed by a sette to the wardrobe on the wall just by my bed and opened it seeing multiple gowns in different colors mostly green that didn't belong to her.

She felt a tug on her back making her turn around to grab Aemond's wrist as he tried to loosen her gown, he looked at her amused as she looked back at him startled.

"What are you doing," she ask unsettled.

"Helping you out of your gown, you can't go to sleep in it, can you?" Aemond raises his brow at her

"I...I usually have a servant do it."

"Well, we could wait but that would take a while since all the servants are still at the celebration and I know how tired you are." Jaenara frowns in thought, she doesn't think she can wait, my feet are in agony, and every second she's in this dreadful gown is like having a needle stab her in the ribs.

Jaenaea slowly let go of his wrist making him smile at her before motioning for her to turn around, she did what he wanted as she waited for him to untie the gown, she looked for a nightgown to wear to bed. Her hand shoots to her chest stopping the gown from sagging and falling onto the floor, he moves on to loosening the corset as she takes the first nightgown she sees and she stares inside the wardrobe trying to ignore aemond.

"...there." He finally said, jaenara held the nightgown to her chest as she turned to look at aemond, but his eyes weren't looking at her but rather somewhere else.

"W-Where can I change?" She asked meekly making aemond clear his throat and glance at her before looking away.

His throat contracted as he pointed over to the other side of the room making me turn my head over to where he was pointing to see a screen divider, a soft sigh escaped her as Jaenara shuffled over to the screen quickly still feeling Aemond's eye on me. She threw the nightgown on the screen and took my heels before pushing my wedding gown down so it could land on her feet, she did the same to the corset and took her nightgown and slipped it over her head and through her arms before pulling it down making it fall to her knees. She left her gown and heels on the floor as she stepped out, her hands were finished unbraiding her hair so it could fall loose on her shoulders when she saw aemond already in bed with no tunic.

She turns her back to him when he smirks at her, why was he wearing no tunic, jaenara'a thumb goes to her lips as she bites her nail. She doesn't know what to do, she understands she must share a bed with him, they are husband and wife after all, but why is his tunic off? She doesn't know what to do, what should she do.

Think, Jaenara. Think, Jaenara.

"Oh, sweet wife. Are you coming to bed?" His words sounded taunting to her ears, jaenara looked over to the door in thought, maybe she could sleep on the couch, "Come to bed, jaenara. Or do you want me to tell your mother you're being a bad wife?" He taunts her again making her grimace at the door, the last thing she wants is for her mother to be angry at her.

Jaenara slowly turned around my eyes focused on the ground as she ambled around the sette to go over to the bed and stand by the space beside aemond, before she could move the covers aemond did it for her making me stare at the white sheets. She slowly climbed up on the bed pulling the covers over her legs and abdomen before laying on my back, she turned my head to the window across from her to see how dark it was outside.

Suddenly, the bed shift made her turn to look at Aemond before looking away when her eyes caught his nake back, she trained her eyes above as aemond moved around. Before she knew it the canopy surrounded the bed, she glanced over as aemond pulled the curtain back to get in bed again making to look away. Aemond settled in next to me she could feel his arms press against her own as he lay down.

She closed her eyes hoping sleep would find her, but as she lay there aemond shifts in the bed.

"You don't know what consummate is, do you," Aemond spoke in the dark making her stay silent, a chuckle filled the air between them, "I'm surprised you didn't ask, you were such a...curious little bird, swan." She open her eyes and turn to look at aemond, the light coming through the slit of the curtain made her able to see him laying on his side watching me.

"How do you know about it," Jaenara asks.

"The maester, mostly. But, I have been to the tapestries and among other places to know what I have to do." She nods slowly before looking away, "...I can tell you if you want," he says, she drags her eyes from the covers to him, and her throat constricts as she thinks.

"...why would you do that?" She asks meekly.

"You are my wife, why wouldn't I?" Even though it was dark her eyes looked over to Aemond's missing eye, she looked away when aemond shifted in the bed next to me, "...what happened to me doesn't affect you, it was your brother who did it, not you."

"Yes, but he is still my brother nonetheless. His sins are my sins." Aemond made a sound of disagreement.

"No, his sins are his sins, I hold no ill will towards you, dove." She sighs.

"My brother was protecting me, you would have done the same if Helaena was in my spot, would you not." Aemond was quiet, jaenara looked over at aemond as he lay on his side with his elbow keeping him up, she hoped she didn't make him angry, "Aemond?" She whispers gently calling out for him.

"...you are right I would have done way worse, but I still stand by my words, you shouldn't feel obligated to hold your brothers's sins. Not when they don't share your blood entirely." His words burned her ears, she sat up leaning against the headboard glaring at him through the dark.

"What does that suppose to me." She snaps.

"I think you know--"

"No, I don't." Jaenara resorted, her anger was slowly peaking she shouldn't let herself get angry, her brother warned her that aemond would do this, "....whatever I'm tired going to bed." She scoots back down on the bed and turns her back to aemond, she puts the cover on her chin as she closes her eyes to go to sleep.

"Jaenara." She stayed silent, "Jaenara, do not be like this...we still need to consummate--"

"You can do it by yourself." She resorted, it was quiet for a second before she heard aemond chortle making her furrow her brows.

"...silly dove, it must take two to perform this ritual, you must think of it like dancing...but in bed." Jaenara stayed quiet thinking, she was curious to ask more about it but her anger outweighed her curiosity, she wasn't in the mood to talk to him not after what he said, this night had already dragged on long enough all she wished was it to end.

"...jaenara, sweet dove..." she felt his hand grazes her arm, "...do you want me to apologize for what I said." He asked she remained quiet, there was no point in asking that if he wasn't going to mean it, "...jaenara, I'm sorry for what I said, I should have never said it."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Jaenara could feel the heat radiating off aemond as he moved closer.

"Can you find in your heart to forgive me, sweet dove?" She didn't reply she had two things nagging at her to go to sleep and ignore aemond, she growled lowly moving to lay on her back, and stared up at the bed.

"Why do you keep calling me that," She asked.

"What? Dove?" She nodded her head but when he didn't answer she spoke up.

"Yes."

"Oh, well...you remind me of a dove," he says making her turn her head to look at him.

"How so."

"Well, doves are considered kind and loyal birds, and you...remind me of them. You are sweet and loyal and  trustworthy and beautiful, that is why you are my sweet dove." She blinked dumbly in the dark speechless, he thought that of her, he thought she was beautiful.

"You think I'm...beautiful?" She turned to lie on my side.

"Of course, I do...who wouldn't your beauty outshine all the maidens in the seven kingdoms." He says, "You will have to be a fool to ignore it, but that is not why I wanted to marry you. It was your kindness that drew me, I will always remember what you did for me when I was a boy."

Jaenara knew what he was talking about, aemond and her don't share a lot of memories, not good ones anyway, but there was one time when she was young and aemond lost his egg. The poor baby wasn't strong enough and aemond was very upset about it the entire week, nothing could have brought up his mood, not sweets or new books not even going dragon riding with baelor. The boy was dolorous and aegon along with some of their other cousins didn't help when they picked on him about it, he took to spending his time alone and away from everyone. She always felt bad for him when she saw how sad he was about his egg, she knew how he felt. So, when his tenth nameday came around, she was given an egg by her aunt rhaelle and uncle when they heard her egg didn't hatch.

She gave up her egg to him as a gift, and he was shocked, to say the least when she gave away her egg. Jacerys along with their cousins and aegon said she was stupid for doing it. But, she didn't care she wanted aemond to be happy, not sad anymore, and he wasn't.

"I'm surprised you remember that," She said. 

"How can I forget it, you were the only one besides helaena and my mother who showed me any lick of kindness." Jaenara looks away shyly.

"I did what I felt was right, it was nothing," She says.

"You have no idea how wrong you are, sweet dove." He whispers back in the dark, "I want to show you how grateful I am that you showed me such kindness." He says as he moves to crawl over her.

[achaoticeternal]

loving all of you

aemond targaryen x plus size!reader

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

- Aemond had first encountered your presence at a council event for the Wardens of Westeros. With your father being a Lord with a notable name, he had brought you along in hopes that you may learn from other ladies of the courts. Your Lord Father would also be scouting for suitors who presented any interest in you.

- While the court discussed more confidential matters, many people had been dismissed until the feast that would occur that evening.

- Though many ladies and maidens collected in the garden for tea, you had dismissed yourself to peruse the library. The maesters back home had mentioned to you the extensive collection of books housed within the Red Keep and you would not deny yourself the power of discovery.

- That’s how Aemond found you. Perched on one of the love seats with a stack of books near you. You would be quickly scanning through the texts, looking for something to peak your interests during your free time here.

- “I believe that most of the ladies have collected themselves in the gardens, my lady.”

- Quickly, you snapped your head around to see the Prince as he stood stoic with an underlying air of confidence. There were many stories about the Prince you had heard in your region. How he was disfigured after his sister’s son cut out his eye, how he was equally cruel with tongue and sword, and how he should be considered a fierce warrior, compared to the King’s Brother, Daemon Targaryen.

- “Apologies, my prince. The gossip of the ladies had grown stale. I did not mean to intrude on the space, just merely see the glory of the Royal Library.”

- That had peaked his interest, which was rarely as common for the ladies of the court to seem so… intellectual. It was a trait he saw in his sisters, and one he could see in you.

- “Well, my lady, you are welcome to explore our collections. But I will have to remain with you for… integrity’s sake.”

- Quickly, your time in the library had developed into a friendship. Moons would pass between when your family would occupy the Keep and return home. For some reason, your Lord father had been continually invited back with the expectation that he bring his daughter family.

- One evening, you sat with Aemond during a feast. Both of you had chuckled at the gossip you had overheard, and filled your chalices of wine many times. Many of the other young people present were currently dancing upon the open are of the floor, while you and the prince remained still. 

- “Do you see any young lady who catches your fancy?” You asked your friend with a giggle, “I’m sure that any of them are more than willing to take a prince for a husband, if not just bed them this very night.”

- As you laughed at your tipsy sentiment, Aemond rolled his eyes in disbelief, “None of these girls draw my attention...”

- Aemond went silent for a moment before continuing his idea, “I want a woman for a wife...”

- This statement caused you to laugh more, lightly swatting his arm, “You are nine and ten years and yet you speak of a wife like an elder northman.”

- “You are eight and ten,” Aemond replied back, “Are you not a woman?”

- Your laughter had paused as you glanced at the prince with a strange curiosity, “I suppose I am a woman, but I’m not like any of them,” You replied, eyeing the fine young ladies of the crowd as they danced with the noblemen. 

- “I’m afraid I do not understand your sentiment, my lady,” Aemond looked upon you, his expression far more serious, “It is true that you are not like those dull ladies dancing with any lord who approaches them, and yet you seem solemn about that fact.”

- “I do not attend the dance floor as often as they do,” You explained to him.

- “Well, of course you don’t, for you are to busy here at my side unless we choose to partake in the festivities,” Aemond’s demeanor had fallen back to being observant and inquisitive.

- “My prince, I do not get to attend the floor because no Lord or nobleman asks for my hand,” You stated plainly, your jaw clenched from your embarrassment, “Nor should I expect them to when there are finer ladies to ask and to court.”

- Aemond went silent for quite a few moment. One hand clutching the arm rest of his seat, the other firmly grasping his chalice. He stared straight ahead. When the silence had turned too tense for you, you grabbed your own cup, raising it to your lips. 

- “I do not know why you belittle yourself with such words and thoughts when you are the very image of the Maiden,” Aemond began.

- At his words, you recalled one of your evenings in the royal library with the prince. Together, you had poured over a book about the Seven and the art created to depict them. Aemond had opened the Maiden section, both of you flipping through the pages until he found one that caught his attention. Your eyes scanned over the depictions of the sweet and good Maiden during the silence. That was until he spoke, his words taking you by surprise that night, “You have the face and the body of the Maiden... Beautiful and divine...”

- You swallowed the lump in your throat as your turned to meet his gaze, “Aemond...”

- “My lady, you must understand that to me, you are more beautiful in body and soul than any other woman here. To me, you are who I see in the Maiden, from the curve of your lips, to the kindess in your heart, and the curve of your hip. There is no one I’ve wanted by my side more than at these terrible feats — why do you think that is?”

- “Because we are friends?” You stuttered.

- Aemond shook his head softly, “Because I care for you so deeply, that for three summers now, I have begged my mother to continue inviting your father and your family to anything that would suffice a stay at the keep. It is also important that you know that I have been planning to extend an offer of courtship to your father before you can leave my side again...”

- At the admission, you took a sharp gasp, nearly speechless, “my prince...”

- “I know you feel the same for me,” Aemond stated quite matter-of-factly, “but tell me, sweet lady, do you feel for me as I do for you?”

- At his question, you glanced from his eye to the floor, “There is no sense in denying what you already know to be true.”

- His hand quickly captured your chin between his fingers, brings your gaze back up to meet his, “Then one day, I plan to have you as my wife, and love all of you... properly...”

[b00kdiary]

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

House of the Dragon: Aemond Targaryen

An Old Flame (fin) Wattpad version

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI a Part VI b The Letter

Beautiful Creature (fin)

Part I Part II Part III

Unexpected (fin)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

[lunenights]

DATING HELAENA TARGARYEN HEADCANONS

Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Reader

a/n sorry i haven’t posted in a bit, hope you enjoy <3

• Helaena just loves you so much.

• You make Helaena so happy, she knows she can be herself around you.

• Helaena tells you all about her bugs!

• She gets so excited when you ask about her collection :,)

• She definitely has bug related nicknames for you.

• “My spider, My butterfly, Little bug.”

• If you don’t have a dragon of your own, Helaena takes you for rides on Dreamfyre.

• If you do, you and Helaena go on rides with your dragons together.

• Whichever one, you guys always have the best time!

• You guys are always holding hands <3 Doesn’t matter if its full on fingers intwined or just holding pinkies :,)

• Any chance you get, you and Helaena are definitely dancing!

• Helaena can definitely escape her psychotic family with you. You are her calm place and she just flourishes in your company.

[aegons-queen-rhaella]

Heyy! Which Yandere Hotd character you think might be into a chubby reader? I don't see any yandere ff with a chubby reader and I would love your opinions and thoughts 👀 Btw I love your blog it's amazing 🖤

Thank you so much!

I am not really a fanfic blog even though I might reblog the occasional fanfic but if I did write fanfic I think Aegon wouldn't mind a chubby reader. His favorite things are booze, food, Sunfyre, and women.

He adores curves all day!

[aegonification]

18+ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

༇ : masterlist

𝗮𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗵𝘂𝗯𝗯𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲; 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝘂𝗱𝗴𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝘁𝘀 )𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺) 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗳𝗶𝘁𝘀.

𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗽 𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲;

𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗴𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗮���𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝘀, 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗼𝗻;

𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀.

𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲, 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰. “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦？ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦？ 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵， 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦．”

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂; 𝗽𝘂𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗷𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗱.

𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗮 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗼𝗳𝗳, 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗽 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗹𝗮𝗽 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗰 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗮𝗻𝘀.

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗽, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗽 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗳��𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺, 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝘂𝘀𝘀𝘆. “𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬， 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺， 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵．” 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝘂𝗻𝘁, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗴-𝘀𝗽𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵. “𝘕𝘰， 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯， 𝘮𝘮𝘮， 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳．”

𝗮𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗮𝗽 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀.

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗯𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁, 𝗽𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗵𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆--𝘂𝗻𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿.

𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗲.

[queers-gambit]

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

title citation: Hamlet

prompt: similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: The Truth Will Out collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 18.3k+

note: SLUTTY ANGST CLUB, COME GET Y'ALL JUICE!

warnings: not edited. heapings of angst, hurt and no comfort, fuck your feelings. tweaked timeline, cursing, Bridgerton influenced, Aemond's both a bestie and an outstanding, fucking asshole - so is this vilified Aemond? eavesdropping trope, nicknamed reader, insecurity, insults, betrayl, abundance of ye ol' misogyny, self destructive tendencies; a single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure. there's men being men, men being gossipy little bitches, and the most random Lord of the Rings quote that kinda breaks the fourth wall?

Bridgerton - available to watch on Netflix 🍒 this fic was written before season three premiered

Jacaerys Velaryon version: coming soon

Tonight was a celebration that echoed across the entire Realm. Lords and Ladies alike with their service maids, House guards, any available singletons flocked to King's Landing for the courting season. They did this annually. Three solid months for eligible singles to make a match and attempt to secure their bond in matrimony.

Ladies wore layers of multicolored fabrics. Lords dressed in embellished tunics. Ladies tied on tight corsets to push their breasts to their necks. Lords shaved their facial hair, appearing "cleaned up". Ladies smelt of exotic perfume and Lords stood in shiny boots. All wore sparkling, gaudy jewelry.

While the Starks of Winterfell and the Umbers of Last Hearth traveled over a month to reach the capital, your family, the Tyrells from Highgarden, had a much more comfortable commute. Greyjoys and Mormonts sailed in from the Iron Islands and Bear Island, Tullys from Riverrun, Royces and Arryns from the Eyrie. Single, available, eligible Hightowers returned under Queen Alicent's sponsorship, Lannisters prowled in from Lannisport, and select few Martells arrived in gorgeous, gloriously golden carriages from Dorne.

Everyone who was anyone descended onto the Red Keep, eager to earn King Viserys' stamp of approval - being that he only granted one couple his presence at their ceremony. It was the highest of honors, a prize to be won, a chance to show off and show out; giving the two bonded families bragging rights until the next season. Plus there's a superstition that all weddings the King attended were prosperous, healthy, and long lasting marriages. There was a buzz in the air, a static of excitement and mystery; tension brewing when the members of court arrived and sized each other up for that first week. You thought they were silly for this energy, akin to strutting peacocks, treating their own like competition, treating bloodlines like currency.

You never realized how many purists there were.

While the other Houses had to travel, you were most lucky to already host residence in the Red Keep. Your uncle, Evin Tyrell, had once been in line to assume lordship over Highgarden, but after losing his son to the War of the Stepstones, Evin turned away from his inherited responsibilities; forcing it onto your father's shoulders. You had several siblings, both younger and older, and eventually got lost in your bustling, busy, arguably large family. Evin had no more children, wife long departed from this life, and was excited by the prospect of being a guardian; insisting you come with him to King's Landing, where he accepted a tutoring position for the King's children and grandchildren.

You were absolutely romanced by the idea of existing among the royal family, telling your father it was your one chance at a decent, higher education - an opportunity to study under the Targaryens being once in a lifetime. Truth be told, you're not entirely sure Lord Tyrell even processed your words, approving with a distracted grunt and a wave; gone by the next morning without even breaking your fast with your family. Evin hooked both your beloved horse and one of your father's young stallions to a wooden cart you shared, using the journey to King's Landing to prepare you for the life you were soon to live.

You had always been a little wild child, so, Evin felt it necessary to remind you of your manners; brushing up on your etiquette, quizzing you on members of the Royal Family, explaining what would be expected of you now that you were a guest to the royals.

For well over a decade, you were the single wildflower blooming through dragon fire, earning the moniker Rose of the Realm; living under Queen Alicent's good grace. She seemed to like you well enough, going as far as to invite you to family events after noticing the bond between you and her openly favorite son, Prince Aemond. Years ago, when you were fresh and new to the Capital City, your uncle brought you to attend Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral on Driftmark at the King's invitation. You already had a friendship with the young royals; keeping Helaena company, trying to sneak Aegon's chalices of wine out of his grip, and when the time came, rushed off over the sandy dunes with your best mate after he told you his plan to lay claim on Lady Laena's dragon, Vhagar.

After the King's heir, Princess Rhaenyra's (rumored) bastard son, Lucerys, slashed Aemond's eye from his socket, you became incredibly close. Impossible close. Like unbelievably close; being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, magnetically pulled towards one another before clicking into tight place. You were his pillar of support, his anchor to reality; and he was your salvation.

You realized you were in love with him when you turned ten-and-six. It was something strange, the two of you studying together in the library and when you looked up from your book to meet his eyes, you just understood. Something in your brain clicked, heart cemented in knowing, guts twisting in sudden realization, words caught in your throat and only letting out an inaudible gasp. Ever since that day, you were acutely aware of anything the Prince did; from the way he would caress the back of your head at each embrace, to his eye darting to look at your lips during conversations. From how he took almost every meal with you, to the way he insisted upon your invitation to family, public, and / or royal events. From the way he absorbed your secrets and opinions, to the way he shared his own - getting back what you put forth, forever mutual.

Being friends - best mates, even - with Aemond was easy. So easy, in fact, that nobody ever batted an eye when they saw the two of you unchaperoned. Your friendship was wholesome, endearing, supportive, enlightening, and pleasurably challenging in the sense that Aemond liked pushing your envelope; testing your boundaries. He set new standards and helped lift you to meet those goals, made you think harder, consider new points of view, expand your humanity.

What more could anyone ask for?

About half way through the current season, your uncle sent for you to join him for afternoon tea in the gardens. "Do you recognize these?" He asked when you arrived at the pavilion he sought shade under, admiring the bushes of florals surrounding the bannister.

"Of course," you smirked, hands behind your back as you stood at his shoulder, "they're honeysuckle."

"Native to only Highgarden, just like I called you in your youth," Evin added, plucking a bloom to admire. "Do you know why they're planted here?"

"I imagine through pollination?"

"A sound guess, but no," your uncle handed you the flower. "These were imported years ago, but have only bloomed now."

You nodded, sucking the bud to extract its honey-sweet taste, asking through puckered lips, "Imported by whom?"

"Do you remember your 17th nameday?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess, it was only a few years ago. You weren't here, you were on some diplomatic matter, right?"

"Inna way. After I concluded my affairs, I returned to Highgarden. You see, Prince Aemond confided in me how he wished to do something special for your birthday and knew you missed home. He asked me to bring these seeds back."

"Aemond asked you to plant honeysuckle?"

"Specifically here," Elvin grinned, "so they were within easy reach."

"So why have they only just now bloomed?" You tried to keep the jittery excitement out of your voice; baffled yet giddy from hearing about Aemond's kind gesture.

"There's an old legend," Evin gestured you to the patio table and chairs that was dressed for your social visit. "It's said, when the honeysuckle is gifted from lover to lover, they will only bloom when love surrounds them. I believe they have come to life this season as a portent to an impending match to be made."

"You spend too much time with Otto, Uncle, you're starting to sound like him - veiling your words and talking in riddles. Tell me why you called me here, Uncle, I know it's not for a botany lesson. Out with it, please, for the sake of my sanity."

Evin chuckled, watching you lean forward to pour two mugs of tea. "I was wondering, sweet niece, what the nature of your relationship is to the Prince Aemond?"

"Oh," you blinked, adding a sugar cube to your brew before stirring in a bit of milk, "well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't know what to tell you, Uncle. We're friends, nothing more or less."

"You seem real chummy."

"We're close, yes."

"Romantic?"

You scoffed, "Uncle, please - "

"Tell me the truth of it."

"Nothing inappropriate or unseemly nor nefarious has occurred between us, Uncle, I promise you. The Prince and I are just friends."

Evin sipped his tea, nodding slowly, "Well, humor me. If I asked who you would marry, who would you choose?"

"Well, as of right now, I'd choose myself since I don't know the men at court yet, only rumors and whispers."

"And if the offer of marriage presented itself, would you marry the Prince?"

"I would do my duty to our House, no matter the suitor."

Evin nodded slowly, "If I said I had struck a pact with the Queen and Hand, what would you say?"

"That despite what I've just said, if you marry me off to Aegon, I'll pitch myself from a window."

Your uncle's head tilted back as he belted short laughter. "I would never condemn you to such a fate, honey girl! Have more faith in me. I speak of Prince Aemond - it's why I asked about him."

"Uncle, speak plainly. Have you attempted to make such a match between the Prince and I?"

"Pending a few logistics, the Crown's interested in the match."

The words echoed in your mind on an obnoxious repeat for the weeks to come, surely living a dream. The longer you dwelled on the impending match, the giddier you felt; a secret smile brightening your features, small spring in your step, an air of positivity hanging around you that even the tiresome Rogue Prince wouldn't be able to taint. The One-Eyed Prince has long been your best mate for a decade, surely, this match would've been offered sooner or later; it was a smart choice, the definition of compatibility.

Some might've referred to this elation as "cloud nine", though you'd say it was cloud 10, 11, 12, 100! You were flying high, feeling good, and mistakenly allowing your hopes to heighten while imagining what marrying your best friend would be like.

You prepared for that evening's courting session with a dreamy, dazed look in your eyes. Even your ladies-maid picked up on your joyful spirit; questioning through her smile, "What's got you so distracted, my Lady? You've been staring off into nothing with that smile for an hour now."

"Huh?" You met her eyes through the vanity mirror, the woman standing behind you to intricately braid your hair. "Oh, no, no, nothing, I'm only lost in thought."

"Which thought?"

"It doesn't matter, it's just a thought. When it becomes a notion, I'll tell you, my friend."

She repeated with a grin, "'Yeah? When's that? Are you expecting good news?"

"Perhaps."

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," she playfully tugged your hair. "Do you know which dress you'd like to wear tonight?"

"The lilac one," you answered, lips stretching your smile.

"You mean the dress that matches Prince Aemond's eye perfectly?"

You both giggled girlishly.

When you arrived at the Throne Room, there was already more than 75% of guests in attendance; getting a jump on their mingling. You greeted several familiar faces, locating your best mate standing at the side with his arms crossed and shoulder leaning on a pillar. "Well, you certainly look happy to be here," you teased when at his side, leaning on the other side of the intricate column.

"It was Mother's idea, Rosie, you know I do not dance," he frowned. "She's not given up the hunt to make me a match. She's adamant this is the year."

"Perhaps if you participate, you could organically meet your future wife."

"Hmm," his eye rolled, thin lips quirking in a smirk; gaze turned on you, watching you scan the room.

There was another 20 minutes of mingling before dinner was called, laid out on tables that stretched the entire length of the Throne Room. Naturally, like every single day, you and Aemond took side-by-side seats together at a risen table that hosted the royal family which provided an incredible view of those in attendance this eve. With your elbow, you nudged Aemond's bicep, making him lean over instantly so you could speak in his ear quietly. "Looks like Lady Fell and Lord Blackwood are gonna jump each other's bones," you mused, smirking, adding, "though I heard she's already hiding a growing belly and is trying to nab herself someone more mature in age with the intent to trick the Lord into thinking she's having his baby."

"No," he scoffed in amusement.

"Yes!"

"That's diabolical. Blackwood's the father? Truly?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Good for him, good for Blackwood - didn't know he had it in him." He paused to take a pull from his goblet of wine, continuing, "Hm! Look, look," he grinned coyly, "do you see what I see?"

"It's packed in here, so... No, I don't see whatever you're seeing."

He snickered, "Lady Mormont looks smitten with Lord Greyjoy, looks like she wants to eat him."

"I thought he was romancing Lady Redwyne?"

Aemond hummed in amusement, "Perhaps he is considering options, courting more than one lady. Are we taking bets this season, again?"

You grinned, "Of course."

"Lay out the criteria, what're the parameters?"

After thinking a moment, you answered, "The pairing and timeline of impending weddings?"

"The stakes?"

You just shrugged, "Bragging rights?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie," he tisked.

"Fine, uh, how about... 10 Gold Dragons?"

"Both our families have enough money."

"Then you decide the rewards."

He lowered his voice, ensuring his family couldn't eavesdrop, "If you win, I'll go to Highgarden with you next time you visit. But if I win, you have to come flying with me on Vha - "

"No," you snapped instantly.

Aemond smirked, "Those are the terms, my Lady. Do you accept? Or will the Rose of the Realm shy away from challenge?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"Fine," you relented. "You're eager to lose so bad, let's do it. Who do you think will couple first?"

"Does it count if I get at least one correct? Such as, if I predict Lord Umber and Lady Lannister, but Umber marries Lady Tully, does it count that I still predicted Umber?"

You mulled his idea over, humming, stabbing a piece of roast goose from your plate to place in your mouth and chew thoughtfully. "Hmm, no, no, you gotta get the couple completely correct."

Aemond nodded, accepting your terms, "You really don't wish to go flying, do you?"

"What gave me away?"

Sharing a chuckle, Aemond finished, "All right, Rosie, bring it on."

When dinner concluded, once more, patrons were allowed to mix and mingle; dancing to the live band, drink spiced wine to their heart's desires. Like the common wallflowers you were, you posted at the side of the room with Aemond, content to watch the sea of vying adults trying to establish and rush courtship. It was the most comfortable you could be at these events, being anxious in judgmental crowds and seeking salvation from Aemond's domineering aura.

"Lady Tyrell," Jason Lannister purred as he approached you with his chest puffed out, "I was hoping to hold your ear tonight. Your father was telling me about your love to ride horses."

"Oh, my father said that?"

"That's who he said he was - "

"My father's in Highgarden, my Lord," you corrected, knowing for fact that Evin always described himself as your uncle.

"Ah, well, right," Jason cleared his throat in embarrassment. Did this pompous arsehole just lie about talking to your father to give the illusion he was an honorable man? That your father approved of the golden headed Lannister? "Perhaps you would honor me with a dance?"

"Perhaps not," Aemond cut in sharply, bringing the tension to focus.

"My Lord," you distracted, on behalf of Aemond's anger, "uh, thank you for asking, that's very kind of you. Though I'm afraid, I'm all, uh, danced out. I won't be on my feet much longer."

"Means fuck off, Lannister," Aemond growled, appearing positively murderous at the honey blonde's audacity.

Jason eyed Aemond, stiffly bidding, "I see. My Prince, my Lady, enjoy your evening."

You bid the older widower the same, Aemond chuckling the moment the lion was swallowed by the crowd. "As if you'd ever dance with a Lannister, let alone court him," he mused, looking down at you. "But he had the right idea, you need to dance at least once. Shouldn't waste this dress standing on the side with me."

"I'm quite comfortable here with you," you shrugged off, seeing your uncle at the royal banquet table exchanging hushed words with King Viserys and his Queen, Alicent.

"C'mon," he held his hand in offer, palm up.

"What? No, no, Aemond, I'm not dancing - I've two left feet!"

"You can break every toe on my feet and I'd still ask you. Just one dance. With me, Lady Tyrell."

"You don't dance!"

"Perhaps the mood has taken me. C'mon, petal."

Your head turned from left to right as if looking for someone spying on you. The moment your hand laid daintily in his, you melted right there on the spot, not having any coherent recollection about how you ended up in the middle of the overzealous contenders. You realized you'd follow this man anywhere.

Beating off your immense anticipation and overwhelming excitement to join The One-Eyed Prince for an intimate activity, you kept your composure amongst everyone else. But, my Gods, did you want to scream in delight the moment he placed one hand on your waist and the other clasping yours to raise in the air at your side. But in this position, you could feel the ridges of his stomach - making you briefly feel embarrassed, wondering how you must've looked to the members of court.

"You sure about this?" You whispered nervously, but you had a feeling that was due to the intense concentration he pinned you with.

"We'll be fine, Rosie, just breathe and follow my lead. I got you."

So launched your dance with Prince Aemond Trgaryen, second son of King Viserys. You couldn't divert your gaze from his porcelain, angled face to save you from overthinking your dancing skill - or lack there of. A few times, he'd smirk and whisper how good you were doing, mind flashing to an image of you and he, married, tumbling in bed sheets together while he praises you. Everything he did became sinful to you; every touch, every glance, every smile, every private studying session setting your skin on fire and heart to beat rapidly.

It was a longer song, string instruments creating a pleasant, ideal, slow-paced, soft environment. Yet you couldn't hear the music, too focused on Aemond's single piercing eye and quirked lips. It was as if the two of you existed outside of time and reality, forgetting the people packed in the stuffy room. Aemond told you softly, "See? You're not so bad at dancing - you just need the right partner."

You wanted to be partnered every single dance from now until your death with Aemond.

"I thought you couldn't dance?" You coyly questioned.

"I said I don't dance, not that I couldn't."

To your idle shock, Aemond gave you a few twirls that made your hair and dress fan around you in an angelic motion. Dare you say it, you even laughed with mirth when you found yourself enjoying the courting season more than ever before - all thanks to your best friend and hopefully, soon-to-be intended. You were acutely aware of his hot and heavy hands holding your flesh, knowing this feeling would burn into your skin to remind you of his closer-than-close proximity. To remind you of his gentleness, to remind you of this dance and the way he gave you his complete and undivided attention.

When the musicians concluded the song, you were grinning authentically while joining in the applause to show appreciation towards the artists.

"Gods," you panted, "that nearly winded me. Think I'm out of shape."

"And you said you had two left feet," he mocked with a scoff, head shaking, but the smirk on his lips told you he wasn't serious. "You're a natural, Rosie."

"You're not such a bad dancer yourself, my Prince," you complimented, the applause subsiding as a new song began. "Though you'll have to excuse me while I get a drink."

You parted way in search of two empty goblets and one of the servants carrying decanters of spiced wine. After being served, you rocked on your toes to try and gaze over the heads populating the room. You were unsuccessful, so, you backed up to the edge of the crowd and moved around the involuntary empty loop along the wall, behind the pillars. There was no reason finding the white haired prince with an eyepatch would be this difficult, yet, you got more than halfway around the room before finally locating him.

Once again, he was leaning on a column, but he wasn't alone. No, there was a gaggle of Lords around him, all exchanging chatter about the Ladies they had to choose from this season.

"Well, c'mon, what about you, Aemond?" Cregan Stark pondered. "Things with The Rose look like they're escalating - congrats. Are wedding bells on the horizon?"

Hearing your name, you quickly scurried behind the same pillar, just out of sight but able to still listen. Look, eavesdropping was highly frowned upon, you knew it was bad manners, but if you heard men gossiping about your name, you would've done the exact same!

Aemond scoffed in pure amusement, "Come off it, Stark."

"No, c'mon, mate, I saw you two," Cregan continued, "dancing together, pressed all close."

"You two make a handsome match, logistically speaking," Paxtan Florant labeled. "Could marry someone abundantly worse, I think you two are quite the pair."

"Handsome and logical as it may look, there's no possibility I'd court the Lady Tyrell, let alone marry her," Aemond declared with a chuckle, your heart stalling and brows wrinkling together. "The Tyrells only just obtained their name in court, they're still too low born for a prince to entertain. Peasants like that are uneducated, prominently not intelligent enough to be my counterpart; uncultured, unwise, unable to retain most information we study during lessons."

You blinked in shock. If anything, you were Aemond's ONLY intellectual counterpart!

"So, she's not as smart as you, mate, so what?" Cregan cocked his head. "You don't need smart, you need fertile and capable."

Though he was attempting to defend you, Cregan's words made your skin prickle. How could they think you weren't intellectually on their level? Was it because you were a woman? You read the same books, attended the same tutoring sessions, was questioned on the same material they were and hardly ever answering incorrectly! And yet now you're reduced to your reproduction system?

The Prince scoffed, "Think about it, if I married a Tyrell, their lowly standing would taint the Targaryen bloodline."

"So, it was all an act?" Paxtan snickered, "C'mon, mate, you two looked dazed, all enamored with each other. Can't convince us there's nothing there, not after that."

Aemond chuckled, "You want the truth?"

"Lay it on us."

"I shared a single dance with her because I pity her. Don't any of you? The way she all but repels suitors? Surely, you've noted her dresses as well? They're terribly revealing, unlike anything a proper lady would don. No self respecting woman nor future princess of mine would wear something like that. It's as if she's so desperate for attention that she has to flaunt her flesh just to get a man to look at her since her personality surely doesn't reel suitors to her."

The men laughed, your mouth dropping open in offense. You're not chasing men away - look what happened with Jason Lannister! It was Aemond who told him to fuck off! After years of friendship, was this truly what Aemond thought of you? How did it come to this - the man you loved, the man you considered your best mate, slandering your name to any able ear willing to listen? How could he speak such calamities about you? Was this entire friendship a folly, just a cover for his pity? Was he only your 'friend' to entertain his own selfish boredom?

Was everything just in your head?

"I don't know, I like how she dresses," Tyler Lannister mused, the teenaged son of Tyland Lannister, Jason's twin brother.

"None the less, I find desperation unattractive in a woman," Aemond rejected, tears gathering in your eyes to silently stream down your cheeks. "Besides, Lady Tyrell isn't my type, she talks far too much. Truly, there's never a moment of silence, I cannot even hear my own thoughts when she's prattling - and it's never anything of substance, just useless nonsense. It's as I said, it was a pity dance, I felt sorry that she has little to no suitors."

"Seriously, mate, have you considered the reason she has no suitors might be because of her proximity to you? They might stay away because they feel threatened by your friendship, thinking she's spoken for - and trust me, no man here would dare compete against a prince for a lady's affection," Cregan scoffed, mildly disgusted by Aemond's choice words.

"The courts know there's no affection shared between Lady Tyrell and I. We are simply friends - no more or less - and that's as far as our relationship will ever progress."

Cregan hummed, nodding his head sarcastically. Then his curiosity questioned, "Answer this: are you attracted to her?"

"Truthfully, I just don't think she's... Attractive enough to be my wife. She's a pretty lass, I'll admit, but if she's called the Rose of the Realm, I fear to learn the appearance of other ladies from Highgarden." A few lads chuckled. "Additionally, there will be public outings I must attend, and as my wife, the people will expect to see someone alluring - someone qualified and fit for the position as a princess of the Realm. Someone stunning and worthy of the title, able to fulfill royal responsibilities."

"Gods, why're you so against this match? You're being terribly superficial, judgmental, and defensive - she's your friend, after all. Wouldn't this be a love-match? Do you know how rare those are?" Luras Arryn snarled, sounding genuinely distraught and jealous.

"And if you're so against her, why do you constantly escort her to formal events?" Arnas Blackwood tacked on. "It creates the illusion that you're courting, my Prince, surely you're aware of that."

"As I stated, her blood isn't pure, but she's also criminally clingy. She's always lingering around and I feel awkward not inviting her to royal events - since she's right there, all alone, in front of me. I only invite her out of obligation. Again, I take pity on the girl, knowing when she leaves the Red Keep, she'll never experience this life again."

"Well, if not the Rose of the Realm, who do you have your sights on?" Luras Arryn asked stiffly.

Aemond's smirk was clear as day, answering swiftly, "The Lady Floris Baratheon is appealing enough."

The lads obnoxiously cheered in supportive approval, directing the conversation in a new direction about how bloody gorgeous Floris was - one of them even mentioning she deserved the nickname, Rose of the Realm.

You heard enough, more than enough, more than you ever wanted to know in an entire lifetime; rightfully insulted past belief and violently nauseated, feeling cold and mechanical. As swiftly as you could, you rushed to set the goblets down and speed walk towards the doors, shoving past both individuals and couples; not wanting to linger where you're clearly not wanted. Where you were apparently not welcome. After making your inconspicuous getaway, tears fell faster than earlier, mind replaying Aemond's words while sprinting to your chambers.

Describing you as clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Dubbing you an improper lady who lacked self respect. Thinking you talk too much - that you prattle nonsense. Labeling you unworthy and unqualified to be his wife or assume the title princess with all the relating responsibilities. How he pities you and doesn't ever want to be more than your friend; thinking you're uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Declaring House Tyrell peasants who would taint his family's pure bloodline. How you 'have' to flaunt your flesh to attract suitors - since your personality did you no favors. Marking you a friend out of obligation...

Were you even friends? Did you even understand the definition of a friend? Have you been operating in a delusion this whole time?

In the words of King Théoden: how did it come to this?

Feeling utterly humiliated, you ran away from your peers; lungs heaving, huffing and puffing, panic ready to overflow. You burst through the wooden door, fully sobbing by now, engaging the iron lock and dropping to lean your weight against it.

Most, if not all, of your insecurities were aired out like soiled bedsheets for all eligible bachelors to know. Aemond might as well have hung a painted wooden sign around your neck: DESPERATE AND CLINGY LOSER - DO NOT ENGAGE.

Nothing about this situation felt normal, it all felt terribly impossible; absolutely heartbreaking and vile, like it was some kind of bad dream. But everyone woke up from dreams. You'd never wake up from this, you'd be forced to remember and relive it day after day. Tonight would haunt you, cast a dark shadow around you as if a thick, temperamental, torrential storm. Yet every storm eventually breaks, but tonight, there was no remedy, no shelter, no protection - you had to weather this alone.

It felt foreign, enduring anything by yourself. For years, Aemond was your partner, always at your side, level headed, insightful and wise; supportive, protective, calming, and something like a safety net when you faced trouble. Now, he's left you devastatingly alone; where after tonight, the very idea of being in the same room as him made you nauseated and anxious, fearful and small.

In that moment, your brain screamed that you were no longer welcome in the Red Keep - Uncle Evin's position be damned.

You sat on the stone cold floor for the better part of half an hour before your bottom turned painfully numb. After sluggishly hiking up your dress skirt, you removed your shoes and tossed them aside, standing to swollen feet to unhook your jewelry and place everything in their safe and proper place. Then, a particular necklace made of red rubies set in a thinly crafted Valyrian Steel chain caught your eye and mocked you. It was Aemond's gift on your ten-and-eighth nameday, laid in a plush velvet case for adequate preservation. This simple piece of jewelry was your absolute favorite in your collection, a treasure beyond words of appreciation that you greatly admired, now rusting in salty tears.

Being gifted this necklace had once convinced you Aemond might've felt the same for you as you do him. You remember even trying to rationalize it as a sign that the One-Eyed Prince was at a loss and didn't know how to confess his feelings. That he was shy, perhaps afraid to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Angry tears of betrayal fell like acid over your cheeks, gritting your teeth, clenching your jaw as you snapped the velvet box closed and with a barbaric grunt, hurled it (with impressive strength) across the room. You felt so confused, so lost; deceived, lied to, and puppeted - and then the anger flared again when you realized what family you were angry with.

Why bother being upset, emotional, distressed? You had no right because your feelings truly didn't matter - not in the grand scheme of things. Nobody cared about your trivial feelings! You were just a Tyrell and by comparison, a peasant nobody who never deserved, earned, warranted, or was bestowed respect. In fact, to the Targaryens up on their mounted pedestals, none of you mattered - not a citizen in all Seven Kingdoms.

In fact, it was almost treated as a curse to not be a Targaryen. Some kind of punishment for daring to exist amongst the privileged royals as a lowborn - which, despite your family's newly established status in court, you were still characterized as. In their eyes, anyone NOT a Targaryen was lowborn; deemed unworthy to the white haired bloodline, being merely tolerated for the sake of politics, strategy, and reproduction. It was a sick game, and the Targaryens always won.

They do what they want, when they want, with no consideration towards other people's safety, emotions, wellbeing, stability, or comfort. The Targaryens were always stationed above everyone because, after all, they were closer to Gods than men; entire family spoiled, entitled, narcissistic, holier than thou, avoidant of any and all consequence.

They're legendary. Untouchable and worshipped.

And you? You're just a Tyrell, the tiny beetle trampled under the God's boot. Beetles were essential to any ecosystem, similar to the Tyrell's providing to the Realm productions of wheat, grain, barley, and corn. Similar to your family, beetles are also disposable - meaning the Targaryens might tolerate you, but they never need respect you. They could stomp you into the ground whenever they wanted because where one beetle died, three more takes place. Where one House might falter and fall, become doomed, eradicated, or subcomes to tragedy, others step up in an effort to establish their usefulness; prove their House's necessity to the Realm's ecosystem, attempt to diminish the threat of being razed to the ground by dragon fire.

Why be so upset with the Targaryens when they can do no wrong? What right did you have? And how could you ever think a Prince of the Realm would remotely be romantically interested in you?

You felt delusional and pathetic, crying over a man who was never in your league. Yet betrayal gutted you like a fish, a bright reminder that your friend would expose you like that; offer loud disrespect, speaking hatefully, to finally voice hidden malcontent. It felt impossible to stomach that your first friend, your favorite person, secretly hated you.

Because how could he not? You did not love anyone you could speak so lowly of.

Sobbing harder, you yanked pins out of your hair, working at break-neck speed to strip from your gown, then freezing when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looked distraught with exhausted red eyes; glowing in defeat, in a desperate need for a long, hot soak in the washtub. With shaking hands, you tossed a spare blanket over the mirror, despising the sight of yourself as Aemond's words continued to ring on a loop in your ears.

Clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Improper, lacks self respect, talks too much, lacks suitors. Unworthy, unqualified, pitiful, never desiring to bloom past friendship - which is constructed around obligation. Uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Unfit, tainted, lowborn blood with a lowly personality. Revealing, tempting dresses.

Your mind, heart, and head screamed that no matter how hard you hoped, prayed, and tried, you'd never have a place among the Targaryens. Yelled that Aemond's right: you're ugly on the inside and out; damaged goods, undesirable - all because you were not born amongst fire and blood. Bellowed about your lack of quality, purpose, contribution. Reminded you that the one person you trusted unconditionally never truly wanted to be your friend; that he spoke horrendously on your name when absent, didn't value who you were - and never did.

He took every insecurity you confided in him and weaponized it; used it against you, made it into a joke with people you didn't trust nor want to know about you...

You sunk into the bath water, submerging as if to hide from your own thoughts.

The knock at your chamber door didn't surprise you. Servants and your uncle had been coming and going since you first refused to leave the morning after the ball. You figured Aemond would come around eventually, too curious for his own good and still under the impression he had to play "friend", thinking his deceit was unknown to you.

Aemond called your name through the door, asking, "You awake? Could I come in?"

You didn't answer.

He sighed, "C'mon, I know you're there. You haven't been seen in four days, you have to eat. You should get some air, feel the sunshine."

Silence.

Aemond frowned, "When you're ready, come find me, petal. I'm worried about you."

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, pulling your knees to your chest. For four days, you couldn't stomach the idea of running into the Prince, just wanting to avoid anyone or anything that would remind you of what Aemond said. You understood there were several decisions left to be settled, lost in an endless rampage of confusing emotions, maids bring you full trays of food and removing them with more than half still left.

Humiliation knotted in your chest, the harrowing thought of punishing yourself for being so stupid something you couldn't fight. All you registered was the feeling of betrayal, something that inked into every single thought you had, but with it came sinking realization that you were done. Simple as that.

On the sixth night, you sat with Uncle Evin, forking through your full plate and blurting, "Don't do it."

He paused to finish the bite in his mouth, "Do what, honey girl?"

"Don't - Don't make a match with Alicent and Otto. Don't make the arrangement with Prince Aemond."

Evin nodded slowly, washing his bite down with a mouthful of wine. "There a reason for your change of heart, love? The Queen thinks it's a handsome pairing. Just before, you seemed content with the match - dare I say, you seemed pleased?"

"Things change, Uncle," you spoke evenly, "and I can't shoulder this responsibility. In fact, I... I do not think I'm capable of making my own match. I will be stepping away from courting for the time being."

Your eyes seemed distant and dark, proving serious. So Elvin agreed easily, allowing you to withdrawal from the current season officially. He understood something was deeply amiss and didn't want to make worse whatever turmoil you teetered in. He didn't want to upset you and make things worse - you obviously had enough going on.

Aemond knocked again the next day, "Petal? You awake?" But you didn't answer. He sighed, "You've been missing lessons, love, and I just... I brought you some books. Thought maybe you'd like to catch up?" When there was no answer, he ended, "I'll just leave them here for you, petal... I'm not sure what's wrong, but I hope you're all right in there... I miss you."

You scoffed quietly, wiping your tears.

Ten days after withdrawing from the courting season, you left your chambers for the first time. But it wasn't like anything changed - it was still as if you were invisible, like a ghost. Losing your best mate turned you silent, refusing to attend lessons and since Aemond was your source for solace, had turned to seeking shelter at the Sept. It was the easiest way to avoid everyone - mostly Aemond.

He had shunned the religion the older he got, though respected his mother's devotion to it in trying times. He couldn't remember the last time he was in the Sept... So, it was perfect for you; a safe space.

You were no longer seen in the library - a once daily occurrence. If you ever wanted to read, you sent your ladies maid to collect content for you; but the drive to learn and read had abandoned you as swiftly as Aemond's loyalty. The stables grew cold in your absence, refusing to ride; something that troubled your uncle gravely. No longer did you take meals with family or Aemond, always seeking solitude to eat alone in your room or the physical kitchens; the Red Keep growing dark over your lack of sunshine - that had shone so brightly in the previous weeks. Even then, when you ate, it was in small quantities to only sustain yourself; mostly feeling nauseous when food was put on your stomach.

The first time Aemond saw you, you were returning from the Sept in a dress that reached close to your pulse point of your neck. He tried to get to you, but you slipped through the cracks of the Keep and disappeared when he dodged around a set of Kingsguard. Yet it was still a comfort to him to know you had left your room finally.

He knocked on your door about half an hour later, but like usual, you didn't answer.

"Rosie?" Aemond called, sighing. "I know you've not been feeling yourself, but, uh, tomorrow's Helaena's nameday. We're having dinner for her on the terrace..." He waisted, not hearing a single thing from within your chamber. "You're invited, as usual, petal. Your uncle said he'd attend, wanted you to know you're always welcome at our table."

But you didn't show up, you couldn't bear to see any of them.

You didn't eat that night, you were far too anxious and spiteful against yourself that you refused to allow yourself to indulge in celebrating your companion.

Despite withdrawing, you still heard rumor of all the matches being made and the courtships established through your ladies maid. A cord struck in your gut when you heard the couples you had bet upon were public and engaged, but so were Aemonds... Which meant you both won; and if things were different, would mean a flight on Vhagar to visit Highgarden. On nights of merriment, you would sit alone in the Godswood sometimes; attempting to connect to the Old Gods, but they never spoke back. They never connected with you.

Tonight, you were under the blood red leaves in earnest curiosity; quiet, just as you had been since the day you found out Aemond's betrayal and discouraged your uncle from making a match. It was there Elvin found you, frowning as he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"The Old Gods do not speak to me," Elvin offered softly.

"Nor I," you whispered.

"Yet I always feel at peace here," he nodded, sighing deeply. "I must ask you something, honey girl."

"Hmm?"

"Do you... Do you wish to depart? From King's Landing, I mean?" He questioned. "I ask because I intend to ride for Highgarden, your father's nameday nears. Your mother intends to throw him a grand celebration, since turning 50 seems such a milestone."

"You ride for home?"

"Tomorrow morning."

You paused, then answered, "I would like that... There's nothing left for me here."

Aemond's words had done irreparable damage, making you feel worthless and alone. Bitter. Damaged and unworthy of any such match; forever worrying if your best friend could harbor such ill will and hatred for you, surely, a husband would as well. Yet you were not new to being a woman; you knew the role you were to play, how marriage was strategic and calculated. Political. You could be a wife, you were so sure of it; but would you ever feel worthy of love? You feared you never would.

"We will stay a few weeks."

"I don't know if I would like to return, Uncle."

He offered a sad smile, "I figured as much. But should you want to, feel able to, you may return. You, my sweetling, are always welcome at my side."

You leaned into his shoulder, sighing softly. "I should thank you," you whispered in the wind.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me all these years," you lifted off him to meet his eyes. "You didn't have to, but you wanted to... And you've shown me a father's love when I thought it gone from my life. Thank you, Uncle."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, humming, "Don't tell the others but you were always my favorite. I consider it a great pleasure to raise such a gorgeous young lady - and I mean that, honey girl. Inside and out. Now," he pulled back and found his feet, offering his hand to you, "come, we've packing to complete."

"Of course."

However, while in the midst of packing, you felt a jolt in your heart. This had been your home of a decade or more; these people were who you grew and learned with. Who influenced your life in the best and worst of ways; they did not deserve to read your praise and thanks for friendship in a letter... So, you swung a cloak on and ventured out of your room.

Otto was first since he was the easiest to say goodbye to. He was gracious of your parting words of thanks; telling him how much you appreciated his wisdom and riddles.

Aegon was next. He insisted you share a last goblet of wine together - since you did not intend to delay your parting. It turned into a bit of a drinking game with his mates, but you didn't mind; far too used to the company of these debaucherous lechers. Dare you say, you enjoyed yourself.

Helaena was after, your words harder to say as your emotions strangled you. She was a sweet girl, an endearing companion, constant and dependable, albeit a bit strange and unorthodox. But you loved her all the same and cried tears of sadness when hugging her tightly as a last ditch effort to convey your gratitude for her authentic and generous friendship.

You only offered Ser Criston Cole a soft, "Farewell."

Alicent was perhaps hardest to say goodbye to. After Aemond, you were probably closest with the matriarch and found her wisdom and lessons a privilege to learn. She was kind to you; usually with a stern hand, but that was because she could recognize the little girl you once were who missed her mother tremendously. She introduced you to religion, another common bond. She encouraged you, supportive and curious; sharing affinity for the histories, often reading to one another for moments of peace.

Saying goodbye to Alicent hurt. You both shed tears of sorrow, the Queen wishing you the very best and insisting you return for her nameday and other celebratory events. She told you to write, told you to keep in touch; insisting if and when a match was made, to invite her since she would love to attend your wedding. Truly, Alicent considered you one of her own and to know you were departing in pain wounded her.

King Viserys was last. He was already in bed, half-asleep, a Maester at his side; but still, he accepted your audience. You thanked him for his hospitality and kindness - especially to your uncle. You thanked him for hosting you, for allowing you residence at the Keep and the for the years living under royal privilege. You told him you'd not forget his generosity.

You returned to your chambers after that and finished packing. You didn't sleep.

When morning broke, you stood in the courtyard with Elvin; packing the wagon you would use, your horse tacked and waiting as you both intended to ride. Alicent and Helaena came to see you off, hugging you tightly one last time before the Queen offered you a handheld velveteen case. "Just a little something to remember us by," she smiled lightly.

"Oh, as if I'm in a hurry to forget you?" You mused. "My Queen, this is too much, I cannot accept."

"You have not opened it."

"I do not need to, I know you," you smirked. "Your leadership these years is enough gift, my Queen."

"I'm not taking it back, you might as well accept it," she insisted. "Helaena and I picked it out together..."

You lifted the case lid, blinking in shock and gasping lightly. There laid a gorgeous chain necklace of Valyrian Steel, a dragon pendant dangling from front with gems of bright emerald - surely a representation of the Hightower side.

"Thank you, Your Grace, my Princess," you breathed, closing the case and caressing it to your chest. "It's more generous than I deserve but will treasure for the decades to come."

Queen Alicent nodded and pecked your forehead, leaving you alone with Helaena to speak with Elvin. The moment her mother was gone, the Princess asked, "Did you say goodbye to Aemond? I'm surprised he's not here."

"No," you spoke softly, "I cannot, Helaena, it is too painful to even look at him - let alone share words of parting. I have nothing left to say, no more words for him."

She frowned, "You know... I don't think he meant what he said. He says things he does not mean when anxious or feeling as if he's cornered."

Your head cocked, "What? H-How do you know what's been said?"

"I saw it - in one of my dreams."

You sighed, "I know you mean well - "

"I just do not wish for you to think that is his honest opinion about you."

"If it wasn't, he would not have spoken so loudly for so many to hear. Your brother has never sounded so sure, Helaena, I do not wish to relive it."

She sighed and nodded, "Will you write?"

"Every week," you promised, the two of you meeting foreheads and breathing as one. "Take care of yourself, Helaena."

"You, too, Rosie," she smiled, letting you depart. Alicent clipped your new necklace in place and gvae you a final hug, watching you mount your horse, stare at the pair for a moment longer, then follow your Uncle Elvin out of the courtyard.

As you rode down the streets, Aemond came sprinting out of the Keep in a blind panic after running into Aegon in the hall. Normally, Aemond wouldn't have bat an eye at his hungover brother, but he had said something about you drinking him under the table and demanded to know what Aegon meant. Upon hearing you had "left", Aemond sprinted to your bed chambers and didn't even knock - just burst in.

Never before had the Prince felt such anger as when he learned you had left King's Landing without saying goodbye. Without a single word to him - as if the past decade+ hadn't meant anything! He needed to know, Aemond needed to see for himself the truth because surely, someone was mistaken. His brother, surely still drunk and misremembering because there was no possible way you could've left! Not without Aemond! Not without a word! He refused to believe it.

He panted, tears gathering in his eye, finding your room bare and stripped. Aemond's breathing picked up in panic, hands shaking as he stepped into your room; looking, desperately, for any sign of life. But there was nothing... Nothing, save for a letter addressed to him left on your table with the ruby necklace he gifted you for your 18th nameday.

Gingerly, Aemond reached out and plucked up the necklace. He frowned, petting the jewels in disbelief; noting the way a few were missing, some loose - evidence of your anger. Slowly, Aemond sunk into a chair and with the necklace still in hand and his heart hammering in his chest in a rattle, opened your letter.

Aemond ― I know you'll be the one to find this, of that, there's no doubt. Sooner or later, you will learn of my departure and come looking, and for that, for being unable to say anything in person, I am sorry. Though this might come as a shock, it shouldn't as I would hate to give you the satisfaction of being right by burdening you with a desperate goodbye. I would hate for you to think I am clingy, even after our friendship died. So, I figure a letter is better than nothing. Goodbye, Aemond. Though all a lie and dedicated ruse, thank you for the years of friendship. You made time in the Red Keep pleasant enough. ― Rosie

Aemond sprinted to the courtyard, flinging open doors and shoving past patrons; desperate to find you, understanding you overheard him all those weeks ago and needing to apologize. He needed to explain himself, the confirmation now that Aemond was the cause of your pain and reclusion? His heart was about to burst. He skidded to a halt in the dirt, turning left and right and in a circle as he realized the gates were open and you were not in sight.

"Aemond?" Helaena questioned softly, Alicent taking to her side. "Brother?"

"Wh-Where is she?" He panted. "Rose - Rose - Rosie, where is she? Where is she!?"

"She's gone, Aemond," Alicent frowned, shaking her head slowly; startled by his desperate tone, "gone with her uncle back to Highgarden."

"When? When? When did they leave!?"

"She's gone, brother," Helaena snipped, sending him a look of disappointment; ears ringing from her dream, repeating what he had said to you.

Aemond swallowed harshly, asking his sister, "She heard me, didn't she? I know you know, Helaena, please, tell me. She heard me?"

The Princess nodded and walked away, the One Eyed Prince turning to his mother in desperation and for the first time in 10 years, perhaps more, he collapsed in her arms. Emotion clawed at his chest and into his throat, starting to tremble, sniffing heatedly; his mother's arms tight and comforting.

"I love her," he whispered.

"I know," Alicent answered, "but she should've been the one you told." A pause and her hand lifted to caress the back of his head, just like when he was a child. "It's too late now, Aemond. She's gone."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

does this count towards the Clingy Baby collection? since Aemond technically calls her clingy amongst other things?

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 22 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: It's Maiden's Day. The Royal Conclave has officially begun with guests from all four corners of the Realm gathering into the Grand Hall for the first Ball of the season, where all the Maidens will be presented. Word Count: 5651 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Misogyny. Religious themes.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Maiden’s Day had begun shortly after the arrival of the King and Queen. The last three days were a flurry of last minute preparations. All the unwed ladies of the Realm were being prepared to don their white gowns, displaying their virtue on their sleeve, so they may all crowd inside the Great Sept atop of Visenya’s Hill and pay tribute to the Maiden. 

In the Celtigar apartments, bodies milled in and out of the room with tailors and seamstresses alike. Valeana already had a dress made for herself, which she had done moons ago for Maiden’s Day. Though, at the time, she believed it would have been celebrated at Claw Isle, like it was every year for the past decade. Her sisters were a different story; their dresses were commissioned prior to the funeral, and they were now rushed to adjust days before the event. In comparison, they were plainer than Valeana’s, who had the time to stitch out every detail, but they were still lovely and extravagant, as all Celtigar women were known for.

Floris’ was a shockingly pearl white gown with a modest boatneck neckline, and tight wrist length sleeves. The neck, arms, and hemline adorned with the same damask embroidery stitched into it, with small quartz crystals polished into teardrops dangling along her neckline. Her hair was pulled away from her face, parted down the middle, flowing down her back with only a single braid woven down the middle. Any stray hair would have been held back by her crescent white hood that had a white veil hiding her brown tresses. 

Shyla’s was an alabaster white, with a scoop neckline to accentuate her beautiful neck, and capped sleeves. She had more of an empire waistline, allowing the skirt to flow freely with its light tulle curtains. There was less detail in hers, but there were pearls woven into the skirt sporadically, like white stars on a canvas of clouds. Lastly, she wore lace gloves, a matching pearl choker with a ruby at the center, and unlike Floris, all her hair was piled up, topped with an albino peacock feather. 

With her extra free time, Valeana was able to put her full attention on the dress she had promised Queen Alicent she would make. She had already presented the queen days prior to her departure with sketches of her designs, and Alicent had only responded with requests for minor changes. She did not wish to be scandalous, but she did want to make a statement. The design she chose would be tedious, but Val enjoyed the challenge. Rosy, her ever loyal handmaiden, was always there to assist with her mistress’ work. She had helped many times in the past, which has aided Valeana greatly when it came to multiple gowns for multiple occasions… Which she would likely need these next couple of moons. 

She had a lot of work ahead of her, particularly her own gown for the Creature’s Ball. She had no ideas for herself, and that made it all the more difficult to start. Her hands moved along the soft fabrics that her mother had brought over from Claw Isle and bought in King’s Landing market places. All colours of the rainbow were presented before her, in various shades and saturations. From brilliant cobalt blues, to muted lavenders, to rose blush reds, to even unflattering palettes such as mustard yellow, mourning black, burlap sack brown, and salmon pink.

Maiden’s Day started painstakingly early as everyone got ready, aside from the men who did not need to don their formal attire until later, just before the ball. Valeana strapped in her more formal prosthetic, the one she affectionately called “Ser An-toe-knee Woodsby”, who had a wedged heel to accommodate the height of her wedged shoe. She always preferred this prosthetic over “Lady Footlyn”, it was more elegant, and walking in it felt more natural, but the caveat was that it wasn’t as worn in as she would have liked, and it would always have to be worn with a wedge shoe on her other foot. The increased height made it more difficult for her to stand for hours now that her right foot was made to bear the brunt of her weight on the balls of her feet. Still, she loved the way it made her hips sway side to side. 

Her large ivory gown was pulled over her head, and pooled at her feet with its scalloped hemline. Out of the three dresses, Valeana’s was the only one with colour. Maroon embroidered roses were designed in the grand width of the gown, standing tall on their stems like an award winning rose garden. The same pattern was centered on her bodice, the bud of the rose centered between the width of her breast, and the bottom of the stem ending at the ‘V’ shape at her waistline. Her biceps had the same design as well, although more subtle, taking the snug shape of her arm until it got to her elbow where it flared out in delicate lace. Then, as always in Celtigar fashion, pearls decorated the dress all over, accentuating lines to give it more texture. 

Valeana’s hair took the most amount of time. As long and thick as it was, it took two handmaids to tend to it. They pulled and pinned until it became a single large braid, the knots loosened elegantly, and decorated with sprigs of baby’s breath. Mother wanted it to be put up, but Valeana argued that the weight of her hair would cramp her neck. 

Wheelhouse after wheelhouse left the Red Keep that morning. When they reached Visenya’s Hill, it was crowded with carriages, horses, and women in white. Hundreds of maidens gathered into the Great Sept, leaving behind their mothers, their aunts, their fathers, and other guardians behind. 

Only maidens were allowed to fill the halls of the Great Sept that day. 

In silence, Valeana and her sisters entered the massive structure. It had been a decade since she last saw it and it never ceased to amaze her. The domed ceilings were so high that you could hear a whisper of a prayer from the other side of the Sept. Her eyes roamed around, looking at unfamiliar faces of women and girls alike. From girls as young as three, to spinster women as old as 60. If you were never married, and never laid with a man, you were here to worship and honour at the feet of the Maiden. 

She did not see Ellyn and Wylla in the crowd of white, and she ended up losing her sisters in the shuffle of the crowd. Not wanting to waste time on finding her people, she decided to take place in the first empty space she could. She immediately spotted one on a pew next to a young woman in a frost white gown, hair a beautiful red orange that was laid in waves down her back and plaited into a crown adorning her head. She was on the robust side, with rounded cheeks, a wide waistline, and soft arms. She reminded Valeana a lot of her former younger self, but admittedly this young girl was far more prettier, more vibrant. 

“Do you mind…?” Valeana asks the girl in a whisper. No one dared to raise their voices while the Septas filtered through the crowd with vulture-like awareness. Every once in a while, they would ring a bell when someone was being too loud. 

The girl looked up with surprised sapphire blue eyes, then she relaxed with a kind smile, “No, not at all.” 

Valeana settled in beside her, and took a look around to see if she could spot her sisters, or her two only friends, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Looking for someone?” The girl next to her asks. 

“Lost my sisters in the crowd,” she admitted. “Trying to spot my friends, but… with everyone wearing white, they all blend in together.”

The girl softly chuckled, then quickly covered her mouth, “Same thing happened to me, but with my cousins. I have no sisters, just too many brothers.” 

Valeana smiled in response, “Who are your cousins?”

“They are Lord Tyrell’s daughters,” she answered simply, then extended her hand. “My name is Lady Catelyn by the way. Catelyn Redwyne. But you can call me Cat, everyone does.” 

Valeana took it and they both shook gently, “Lady Valeana Celtigar.” 

The mention of her name caused the young girl’s brows to raise and her mouth to gape a bit, “You’re Valeana Celtigar?”

The octave of her voice was loud enough for a Septa to sharply bring a bell in their direction. The two girls looked over before hunching down and continuing their whispers. 

“Erm, yes. How do you know me?”

“Your name is spoken all over the pavilions,” Cat whispered in haste as she took a glance around to make sure no one was listening. “They say King Viserys’ two eldest sons are fighting over your hand.”

A deep blush stained her cheeks, “That isn’t… That’s not what is happening at all. Are people really talking about me? I haven’t even left the Keep since I arrived.”

Cat nodded eagerly, “It is all the ladies are talking about. That and your… uhm, many drunken exploits with men.”

“What!?”

The bell rang next to her ear, jostling her in her seat. When she turned around, a Septa was glaring at her with a twisted puckered face. Slowly Valeana turned back around. 

“It was one time,” she immediately corrected. “And I was in the company of women.”

“Well, whatever the truth of it is,” Cat started, a little smile at the corner of her lip, “You are creating quite a stir in the Realm. It has caused a divide between the ladies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the women wish to end you, and the other half wish to be you. Either way, all here are green with envy.”

“And which half are you, Lady Cat?”

She smiled sweetly, folding her arms on her lap demurely, “I am a fan of great romances, and therefore, a fan of you. It reminds me much of this novel I read whilst living in Highgarden. It is about a woman from the North forced to marry a Dornish prince, but fell in love with his brother. But she ended up falling for her betrothed too, after some time. It was quite riveting.” 

Valeana’s face was fully pink at this point, from outrage over this news, to flattery over Cat’s praise. At this odd book that sounded far too familiar for her liking. She cleared her throat, “And–and what happened… in the end?”

Catelyn sucked in her lips sheepishly, “Oh, I dare not say. Not here, not on Maiden’s Day.”

Valeana shot a look at the giant statue of the Maiden, whose feet they all circled. Then she looked back at the Redwyne girl, “Whisper it into my ear.”

Tentatively, Cat leaned over and cupped her hand over Valeana’s ear, “They both became her lovers. Often at the same time.” 

If it was possible, Valeana’s face went pinker. Her eyes glanced back at the Maiden, green eyes filled with religious guilt. 

Maiden, forgive me for my thoughts. She thought, swallowing thickly. 

The Great Hall was near its capacity with the collection of noble families that crowded it. Hundreds if not a full thousand people mulled around, mostly men as half the population of their guests were making their way towards the Red Keep from the Great Sept. Aemond lurked in the fringes of the hall, eye moving along to each faceless body, trying to identify who belonged to which family. He spotted Lord Borros immediately; he was an easy character to pick out from the crowd, and it was not because of his size. He was loud and tended to take up as much space as possible. Along with him, he found Jason Lannister, their Lord Treasurer’s twin brother. Lord Tyrell and his Dornish wife, the Redwyne brothers, the Starks, the Freys, and even the Greyjoys were in attendance.

Aemond knew that most would not stay longer than the length of the Tourney; it was not just wives that these bachelors looked for, but titles and knighthoods, of which the King promised. But there were many bachelors indeed, easily identifiable by their attire. 

The maidens wore white, and so did the un-affixed men, save for the widowers. The young men and boys that had not married once wore various shades of white doublets and jerkins. Their breeches are generally a darker colour, and a formal cloak of their house colours framed their bodies. 

Aemond abhorred the colour white on him, but at the very least the dark forest green of his cloak gave him the depth of darkness that he preferred. The lapels and stitching of his satin jerkin carried the same green, and in the same shade of white, dragons were embroidered onto his shoulders and the bottom near his hips. His cloak hung on a gold chain clutched in the jaws of two dragons at his shoulders. His eyepatch was the only black piece of clothing on him; it was his most formal one, with swirly switching in the leather. The strap this time was tucked under his hair and under the shell of his ear on one side, giving room for the golden circlet above his brow, showing his status as a prince of the realm. Lastly, part of his hair was intricately woven into a series of plaits that collected into a fishtail braid that went down the center of his head, the length of the rest of his hair fanned over his back like a sheet of silk. The process of which was irksome, as Aemond absolutely loathed anyone but himself and his mother to touch his hair. 

His eye fell onto Aegon, who wore similar garb, but held more gold than green on his doublet. His hair was only half pulled back into a small twisted plait on the back of his head, and the circlet that rested on his brow had emeralds encrusted around the gold rim. He kept himself busy with socializing, as that was what Aegon was known for. He surrounded himself with the team of Redwyne brothers, laughing loudly over goblets of wine, likely made from their wineries. 

Aemond moved his attention away from him, landing onto his uncle who was on the other side of the hall, keeping to the fringes just like him. Daemon wore black, whether by a personal preference or to convey the fact that he was still in mourning. It was likely the former of the two, knowing his uncle’s reputation. Daemon’s cloak was black as well, though the inside was blood red, making the Rogue Prince look like the Black Dread in human form. 

And of course, Daemon was looking directly at him.

Aemond kept his eye on him, refusing to move it an inch. 

It was always so strange to him that he and his uncle had not formally met at Leana's funeral, and even after the incident, no regard was spared. Daemon lurked in the shadows while his mother screamed for justice over Aemond’s eye, and not once did the Lord of Flea Bottom say a word about him claiming his late wife’s dragon. It wasn’t until only a couple days ago that they had even locked eyes with each other, after Valeana and Jacaerys greeted each other. 

It was bizarre. Like looking into a mirror that showed him his future. 

The staring contest broke when Daemon was joined by his step sons, oblivious to Aemond’s spectre on the other side of the Great Hall. Both men wore identical garb, save for their colouring. As heir to the heir, Jace wore a red cloak, draped over one shoulder, being held on by a silver dragon’s claw. His brother wore a muted aquamarine one, and his doublet had the image of the seahorse woven into patterns at his breast. With Lord Corlys still abed with no indication of survival, Luke’s choice of colours was a clear statement that he was the heir to Driftmark… But anyone with eyes knew the title belonged to Lord Vaemond Velayron. 

The doors to the main entrance opened with the blaring of trumpets announcing the arrival of the maidens. A hush went through the crowd as all men, and married and widowed women flanked the sides in order to make room for the ladies that would be presented. The first, of course, was Princess Helaena, who was dressed resplendently in a true white gown with a train that followed behind her. Her hair unbound, with a crown of white flowers upon her head. Her dress had little crystals woven into the hems and linings, and the shape of butterflies could be seen in the fine embroidery. Her sleeves were long and billowy, flowing into her skirts and covering her arms and hands completely. 

It was painfully obvious how nervous and fretful she was. She slowly descended down the wide staircase, eyes flickering around the crowd as her eyes shone with a glossiness of unease. Helaena was not good with crowds, and here she was on display for the entire Kingdom. Aemond made a step towards her, intent on collecting her from her personal hell, but his mother beat him to it. She swiftly cut through the crowd that parted and bowed for her. Upon reaching Helaena, she took her hand and silently pulled her through the crowd towards the head table where the royal family would be seated. 

After that was settled, the gently bred ladies were introduced to the room three to four at a time. There were the Four Storms, the Baratheon sisters, then Jason Lannister’s girls, and so forth. After a lady Redwyne and her Tyrell cousins were introduced, the names of Floris, Valeana and Shyla were announced, and Aemond snapped to attention. 

“Lady Floris Grafton, Lady Valeana Celtigar, and Lady Shyla Celtigar,” the announcer’s voice echoed in the hall. Aemond’s eye swept around for a moment, noticing some of the women whispering to each other as they craned their necks to watch the three girls descend down the stairs.

Aemond tried to appear impartial, but his body moved without his consent. He stepped in between bodies, forcing them to part with his shoulder. When people craned to see who had been cutting through them, they jumped aside. Had Aemond been paying attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed he was not the only one that filtered through the bodies to get closer. Apart from him, there were three others.

Valeana had her hands clutched in her gown, chin down on her clavicle as she watched her steps down the stairs. Her hair practically glowed in the midday sun that shone through the skylight and stained glass windows, giving her a halo of dust particles dancing around in the air about her head. Aemond has never seen her in white before, at least not from head to toe. She was radiant, like a star on earth. 

A divine creature descended from the Seventh Heaven. 

The Maiden in flesh and bone.

His eye trained on her every movement, his vision a tunnel and she was the light at the end of it. She was the only thing that existed in that room, in that world. Once she reached the ground, her eyes lifted and like a magnetic force they immediately found him. 

There was a ringing in his ear as he became deaf to everything and everyone around him. They were suspended in time the moment their eyes locked onto each other. Aemond’s lips parted as the breath was quite literally stolen from his lungs, and his life flashed before his eyes. All moments in time that he shared with her, as far back as babes. 

Squeals of laughter and delight as they played in the rain and mud, and then ran through the corridor tracking dirt on the flagstone, being chased by two irate Septas. Sitting back to back in a copper tub as the same two women scrubbed them down to their bones. 

Wrestling over the last lemon tart on their shared platter underneath the Heart Tree, getting tangled in the roots as they tugged at each other’s hair and pinched each other’s arms. They always ended up splitting it in the end when Valeana tapped out, huffing in disappointment and ignition. 

Their “discreet and secretive” sleep overs they would have under a large desk in the royal library. Sharing a large pillow and blanket as he practiced his Valyrian to her until she fell asleep on his shoulder. Maester Artos would always find them, barking loud enough to wake them in a startle, causing their heads to bump into each other.

Her face lighting up whenever he presented her with menial gifts, such as shiny rocks, seashells, flowers, or rusted jewelry found on the beaches of Blackwater Rush. She would always make something out of them; pendants, earrings, or unconventionally sewn in an embroidery loop, woven in her art for eternity. 

She running to him in tears after the Greyjoy boy kept on pinching and slapping her behind whenever she had her back turned. He had taken his handkerchief and dried her tears and smoothed down her hair, vowing that he will never let him touch her again. 

And then lastly when his father told him he would be marrying her, his best friend. And his one and only weakness. His pride and fear consumed him then, but now…

Now, as he watched her turn away, her hand poised out to grasp the hand of her elder brother, he was consumed by a new type of fear. The fear of losing her completely, of which his pride now would not allow. 

Valeana Celtigar belonged to him. 

As time took motion once more, the chorus of music and chatter filled his eardrums. Aemond was returned to reality, left to stare at her back as Clement brought his Valeana over to the side, where the rest of her family waited. Aemond forced himself to turn away before he could do anything rash in front of quite literally all of the Realm. 

The first dance of the ball was to begin shortly after the mingling of guests, and it would be followed by the feast, and a parade of fools and entertainers. Aemond intended to reach Valeana before the dance could begin, before Aegon or Jacaerys could reach her. He cut through the crowd in long strides, hyper aware of the eyes of his father, mother, sister, and rogue uncle upon him as he narrowed the space between himself and the Celtigars. However, before he could even get within yards of them, his path was intercepted by Lord Borros and the eager brown eyes of Maris Baratheon. 

“Prince Aemond,” The Stormlord greeted, his smile calculated and false. It didn’t reach his dark eyes, which assessed him with keen suspicion. “I thought you might have lost my beautiful daughter in the crowd, and so I personally escorted her to you.”

Maris looked up at her father in gratitude before back at Aemond, “I told my father it was my wish to take my first dance with you, Prince Aemond. If it pleases you.”

The reality of his decisions of the past few weeks weighed heavily on his shoulders in that instant. Since that moment in the corridor with Valeana the other day, he had forgotten he had shown personal interest in Maris Baratheon. By now Borros  surely was already fixated on the idea of betrothal, else he would not be here carting his daughter to him like a sacrificial lamb. More likely than not, the Stormlord surely had talked to the King about it already, which presented more problems. Had this been a week ago, Aemond would have only hesitated for a moment before bending to duty, should it have been the will of his father and mother. Both of which he knew were against it for some vague reason, given the lecture that was given to both him and Aegon the night of their return.

His eyes flickered above their heads where he could just about make out Valeana, standing partially behind the body of a girl with red hair and a round, plush face. Aegon and Jace crowded them, effectively snuffing out his chance at claiming Val’s first dance.

Aemond’s jaw was tense when he looked back down at Maris, but he forced himself to smile, just enough to make him look convincing. 

“It would please me greatly, Lady Maris,” he extended his hand to her, which she took with a bright smile and casted a look to her father over her shoulder. 

Lord Borros hummed satisfyingly, “Wise choice, my Prince. Next to my little Floris, she is the best dancer at Storm’s End. Beauty, brains, and grace!”

“Father! Please!” Maris chided, taking her place at Aemond’s side. Too close for comfort. Too close for him to look detached.

Separating himself from Maris now was going to be a challenge. The last thing he needed was contention with Borros Baratheon, when in the future his mother and grandsire may need his loyalty.

Aegon was well into his cups before the maidens arrived for the ball, and that was simply due to his nature. A man who quickly found friends among strangers, Aegon was by all accounts a social butterfly, and an avid social drinker. When the maidens started to enter the Great Hall, he leaned against a large pillar casually next to Redwyne brothers, as the four of them each judged every girl that walked in. 

“Ah, Cassandra Baratheon,” Aegon turned to the three men, “Beautiful, but a bore. She complains about every bloody thing.”

“That is unfortunate,” Cleyton, the eldest, tutted. “I like tall women.”

Aegon scrunched up his nose at that, “Do you really? Not for me. I like them short… easier to align their nose with my cock.”

The men laughed and turned back to the parade of women. Jason Lannister’s daughters came in after, hair like spun wheat and looking like clones of each other. 

“I’d take them all, one at a time, or all together, really,” Ser Cedric, the second son, giggled into his cup while his younger brother slapped him in his arm. 

“Such a pig, Cedric. A greedy pig,” Colin chided, earning him an incredulous look from Cedric. 

“You’re one to talk, baby brother. You were ogling the widows like a hunger panged hound.”

Cleyton leaned into Aegon’s shoulder, “He likes older women.”

Aegon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh, “I do not blame him. Older women often make the most eager sluts.”

“Lady Wylla Stark, Lady Barba Bolton, and Lysara Karstark.” 

“Oh, now she is a work of art,” Cedric stepped forward, his hand gesturing to the raven haired woman descending the stairs. “I always thought Northern women were large, hairy and had beards. Thank the Seven I’m wrong.” 

“I’d be careful with that one,” Aegon said thoughtfully. “She will emasculate you with her eyes alone.” 

Cedric smirked widely, “Sounds like my kind of woman, then. I enjoy a good hunt every once in a while, you know?”

Cleyton snorted, shaking his head, “You forget she’s a Stark; a direwolf. She’s the hunter… And you are a pretty boy with a long stick and shiny hair that you spend too much time on.” 

The boys laughed, even Aegon, as Cedric shook his vibrant mane away from his face haughtily, “Thank you for calling me pretty, brother. You know how it gets me hard.” 

“Good gods,” Colin sighed embarrassingly into his palm. 

Then the doors opened to three women, two tall and willowy with dark brown to black hair in coiled curls and thin braids, and the third a shorter girl in an empire waistline dress and bright orange hair tumbling about her shoulders. Clearly a chubby one, even with the cut of her dress that tried to shield her unwanted curves. 

“Oh, that is simply not fair,” Aegon tutted, “You don’t pair up the thoroughbreds with the mule.” 

“Oi, careful now,” Cleyton rebuked while Cedric made a sharp hissing sound through his teeth before covering his grin with his fist. 

“That’s our sister, my Prince,” Colin quickly added. 

Aegon grimaced, sucking at his teeth as he casted a look over to his new mates, “Sorry. What I mean to say is: Your sister is very lovely.”

The girls were introduced as Lady Sharis and Malora Tyrell, and Lady Catelyn Redwyne, first cousins likely from their mother’s side of the family. 

“Lovely, sure,” Cedric snorted in his cup, earning him a quick whack from his elder brother upside the head. 

It was not long after that the Celtigar sisters were introduced to the crowd. The mere appearance of Valeana was enough to sober Aegon, but only to then get drunk at her visage after. 

“Oh, ho, ho,” Cedric dog whistles and nudges Aegon’s arm, “That’s her then? The Celtigar girl that’s gotten the Princes of the Realm all in a tizzy. Now I can see what the fuss is all about. It’s the only bloody thing Cat, Shar and Mal can ever bleedin’ talk about.”

Aegon grinned, eyes still glued onto Valeana as she descended down the stairs slowly, her sisters trailing ahead of her at a faster pace. 

“The whispers have reached the pavilions then?” Aegon’s eyebrow raised, not paying them a minute of his attention. His teeth grazed his bottom lip as his eyes drank in every inch of her. Her neck, her hair, her bosoms and her cinched waistline. He felt a stir in his loins and the overwhelming desire to taint her white dress by deflowering her took over his senses. 

Her maidenhead will be his. 

He stopped listening to the Redwyne brothers; their prattle was background noise to him as he swallowed the remains of his goblet and quickly shoved it into one of the boys’ empty palms. 

“Excuse me,” he pushed himself from the column, eyes trained on Valeana as she parted from her family to go converse with none other than Catelyn Redwyne, of all people.

As he made his way through the milling bodies, in the corner of his eye he could see another filtering through towards the same destination. His eyes caught his nephew’s, and with a dual glance back at Valeana, the race was on. The two princes cut through the crowd, causing curious looks and shocked whispers at the sight.

“Seven Hells,” Valeana startled when she turned around just in time to see the brown and silver haired princes all but collide with each other. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, she put Catelyn in front of her to shield her. The redheaded girl did not seem to complain. 

“Good Maiden’s Day, Lady Valeana,” Aegon greeted first, a knowing smile upon his face. “You look resplendent today.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” Val curtsied stiffly. 

“I dare say she always looks resplendent,” Jace smiled, his hands folded neatly in front of him, “But, you do look exceptionally more today, Lady Valeana. White suits you.” 

Aegon sent him a withering look. 

Catelyn turned to Valeana, all wide eyed and gleaming with barely concealed excitement. Aegon didn’t see, but she mouthed: “Three princes?!”

Valeana’s eyes widened slightly at her before returning her attention to the men in front of her, “Prince Aegon, Prince Jacaerys, this is my new friend, Lady Catelyn Redwyne.”

“But, please call me Cat. Everyone does.” 

“Ah, yes, I was just acquainting myself with your brothers,” Aegon bobbed on his feet and smiled politely at her. “Lively lads, them. It is true what they say about the Redwynes; they can drink anyone under the table and still walk in a straight line. A talent I someday wish to have.”

Cat giggled, then gave a soft snort, which caused her to blush heavily and cover her mouth, “Oh! Oh, dear, that was embarrassing.”

Aegon hummed amusingly, smile still donned, “Aren’t you a darling. If I can make a lady laugh to the point of snorting, then I have succeeded in life.”

The four of their heads perked up at the sound of lutes and drums, signalling that the first dance was about to begin. Aegon turned back around, eyes finding Valeana’s His mouth opened, ready to ask her for a dance, but Jace was quicker and his request left no room for refusal. 

“I promised Lady Ursula that you would be the first I asked to dance, Lady Valeana,” Jace stepped forward with an extended hand, his smile charming, “I hope you do not do me a disservice by forcing me to break that promise.” 

Valeana swallowed, looking at Aegon briefly with pained eyes, and then back at Jace. The corners of her lips tugged upward, twitching as she tried to keep a polite face. 

“Well, I would never wish to disappoint my mother,” she placed her hand in his, and he gently pulled her into his orbit. 

Aegon glowered silently, nostrils flared as his finger curled into fists. Jace gave him a smug look of triumph, the end of his lips turning into an insufferable smirk before returning his baseborn brown eyes onto Valeana. She gave Aegon one last look before she disappeared onto the dance floor. 

“Strong bastard,” Aegon hissed, forgetting he was not alone. 

Catelyn laugh-snorted again, then promptly covered her mouth, eyes wide with realization. “Oh no, I should not have laughed at that.”

Aegon’s mood significantly shifted; his smile broadened as he turned to her. “Oh, but I am glad you did,” he tilted his head and offered her his hand. “May I have your first dance, Lady Cat?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE SNEAK PEAK He hummed, his eyes glancing down to the floor where her feet were hidden behind the hem of her dress, and then back up.  “I didn’t see you dancing.” She couldn’t help her eyes from narrowing, “You were watching me?” There was a faint smile there, one that she could not decide if she liked or not. Though what he said after did make her toes tingle and her face feel hot.  “Always.” 

Notes: Oh, where do I begin. You finally get to meet my other babies. If it wasn't obvious already, the heroine for Aegon's Spin Off story has been introduce, along with her brothers and cousins. They party hard at the Arbor, what can I say. I havent decided yet if I'll wait until the end of TPD to post his story yet, but I will warn you guys, that there will be a mia moment of no updates for probably two weeks as I try to work on both of them simultaneously. I've only written the prologue, and I need to make sure I get the timeline right. But that will probably not happen until sometime in November.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[rs-hawk]

Master List

This will be consciously updated so check back periodically. Enjoy!

A:

Átahsaiais

Angels

Angel Boyfriend

B

Beast (Beauty and the Beast)

Big Foot

Big Foot Camping

C:

Centaur

Virgin Centaur

Centaur Ranch MtF WLW

Centaur Handjob

Crow Girlfriend

D:

Dragons

Dragon Girlfriend WLW: Part One, Part Two

Dragon Girlfriend Gold Strap WLW

My Brother's Hot Friend (now exclusively on Patreon): Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Dragon Guard

Dragon Queen MtF

Dragon Lover Nonbinary

Dwarves

Dwarf Boyfriend

Dwarf Lover

More Dwarf Boyfriend

Demons

Demon Church

Dullahans

Dullahan Boyfriend

Deathclaw

E:

Elves

Elves (Christmas)

Enchanted Armor: Part One, Part Two

F:

Fey

Fey Wife MtF

Fog Monster

G:

General Monsters

Short Monsters

Ancient Spirit

God Lover

God Husband MLM (Disabled Reader): Part One, Part Two, Short

Gorilla-Like/Missing Link Lover

Giants

Hiking Adventure (FtM Reader)

H:

House

I:

Icarus x Apollo: Part One, Short, Part Two

J

K

L:

Loveland Frog

M:

Merpeople

Siren Boyfriend

Octopus Merman

Mishipeshu: Part One

Minotaurs:

Minotaur Husband: Part One, Part Two

Minotaur Neighbor FtM

Nobleman Minotaur: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Commission: Healer in the Dungeon Male Reader): Part One, Part Two (contains additional Monsters)

N:

Nagas

Naga Husband

Naga Girlfriend

Naga Husband (FtM Reader)

Naga Wife

Nymphs

River Nymph

O:

Orcs

Orc Husband FtM

Orc Mate WLW

Orc X Saytr MLM (third person)

Orc Mate MtF

Oracle Girlfriend

P:

Piasa Bird: Part One, Part Two, Short

Q

R:

Raven Mocker

Robots

Andrew Android

S:

Slime

Straggle

Shapeshifter

T:

Tentacles:

Tentacle House

Pet Tentacle

Two or More Monsters

Vampire and Werewolf Boyfriend (Plus Size Reader)

Vampire and Dragon Girlfriends WLW

Thunderbirds

Thunderbird Lover (on hiatus): Part One

Thunderbird Partner

U

V:

Vampires

Vampire Boyfriend

Vampire Boyfriend FtM

Vampire Boyfriend (Werewolf Girlfriend Reader)

Vampire Boyfriend (Anemic Reader)

W:

Werewolves

Werewolf Girlfriend MtF WLW

Werewolf Boyfriend FtM (MtF Reader)

Werewolf vs Human Boyfriend

Winter Wolf

Bestie's Werewolf Brother (Liwanu): Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Bestie's Werewolf Brother Alt (Ahiga): Part One, Part Two

Witches

Witch Girlfriend

Your Witch

Werehyena (Male Reader)

Writing Tips

Top Ten

Filler and Self Publishing

X

Y:

Yeti

Z

[lyraoftheevergreens]

More To Love

Daemon Targaryen x Plus-size Wife

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Smut! Minors do not engage! NSFW

Summary: His wife y/n Stark is beginning to feel insecure as she continues to gain wait with each child she bares him. He is the only one who can comfort his sobbing wife when they are forced to return to Kings Landing for a name day celebration for the princess.

Authors note: I suck at summaries. I wish I could just put “Daemon fucks the sad away. Like the good husband he is.” From one big girl to the next I hope you all enjoy this <3

Warnings: smutty smut smut, oral female receiving, p in v, Self degradation, Minor spelling and grammar errors. Semi edited

Word count: 2,280

Daemon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, wielder of dark sister, rider of Caraxes, father to Baelon II, Aenar, Naerys, Aelor, Rhaena and Elaena. Husband to Y/n Stark. He married you when his brother ascended the throne, while it was no secret your family, house Stark, supported Rhaenys is claim to the throne. Your father had you marry Daemon to hopefully stop any retribution from there vote against Viserys. While your marriage was one of political duty it didn’t stop you from loving him nor he loving you. You left the north to join him in Kings landing, where you were to wed. You were just as wild as him, nothing was ever gonna stop him from falling in love with you. You had the distinct Stark characteristics of long brown hair and grey eyes. He could stare into your eyes for the rest of his life 8 years of marriage and already the two of you had 6 children and possibly another on the way. The two of you had decided it would be better to raise your children at Dragonstone without the input of others after having your first two, as well as the murmurs and rumors. You received much judgement for choosing to nurse your children rather than a wet nurse do it. It also didn’t help that you allowed your children to share the bed with you Daemon. People of the court were constantly murmuring about your family and they way you and Daemon are raising your children. They thought it repulsive that your children sleep in marital bed. It’s not as if you perform marital acts with your children present, they were far from any of that when it occurred. Then you became pregnant with Naerys, once you began to show the murmuring became worse. “How could they let there children sleep in such filth, now this child will have to sleep in it to.” “And the king allows this to happen in his castle.” “Have you heard, the dress makers had to make her new gowns again.” “How could the prince lay with someone so large.” “I suppose he has no problem lying with someone of her size when he lay with whores.” “I would not be surprised should he return to the pleasure houses, one could only lay with cattle for so long.”

Once you told Daemon what you had heard the two of you were gone to Dragonstone taking all your belongings and staff and you left. You and Daemon made sure the lust for one another would never die as you two continued to grow your family. Taking you on caraxes to Essos, leaving your children in the care of their maids. Or simply slipping into other bed chambers of the castle (empty ones, you two weren’t one to fuck on other people’s beds), or the beaches of Dragonstone to spend alone time together.

The king called for a feast to celebrate Rheanyra’s 13th name day. Daemon decided to leave for Kings Landing on Caraxes to ensure your rooms were prepared in time for your arrival with the children. Naerys is the oldest of your girls and most stubborn, like her father, refused to go on the ship with you and her siblings. Both you and Dameon felt it wasn’t a good idea for a child of only 5 years to fly on her own on via dragon back. Ultimately you and Daemon decided to allow her to fly with him on Caraxes. You knew your husband would protect your daughter with his entire life. He strapped her to him to ensure if she fell asleep she was still safe with him. He made sure to help you and the children on to the ship and to see you all off before leaving himself with Naerys. Your children loved seeing there father leave on Caraxes, they flew a bit to close to the ship causing it to rock knocking your boys to the floor, they laid there for a moment causing you to laugh as well as you held on to the knight your husband had assigned to you for the trip, Ser Ander.

Once arrived at the Kings Landing port you were met with your husband and daughter. Your daughter ran into your arms and told you how amazing flying on Caraxes was. Your boys told their father how much they enjoyed Caraxes rocking the ship and how they can’t wait for there dragons to be able to rock ships. You all left in a carriage to the Red Keep, and once arrived you were greated by Viserys, Aemma and Rhaenyra.

“Y/n, we are so glad you and the children have arrived safely.” Greated Viserys with a smile as he hugged you.

“Thank you your grace, we thank you for your invitation.”

“Please Y/n, you are my good sister, call me Viserys.”

“I will try my best, Viserys.”

“Aemma, how are you?”

“I’m quite lovely. Your self?” She asked as she rubbed her bump, you hadn’t known she was with child again.

“Lovely as well. Rhaenyra, how have you been as of late? Are you excited for the celebration?”

“I am, thank you.”

The exchange between Rhaenyra, Aemma and you felt strange in whole. You feel them judge you from their looks. You had put on a considerable amount of weight from the last time you were in kings landing and you could tell they judged you for it. While Aemma had been with child just as many times as you, you had the weight gain to show for it as she did not.

“Come let me show you to our rooms.” Daemon must have felt your unease as he thankfully interrupts the awkward exchange. The twins were to sleep with you and Daemon and the boys and Naerys in the chambers next yours and Dameon’s. Once alone you began to speak freely to Daemon.

“She’s with child once more? Poor Aemma, I pray that this babe is healthy.”

“Yes it’s quite tragic. I remember the two of you always being with child around the same time.”

“Yes, and that’s why it saddens me because we have 5 beautiful children they have one.”

“I know my dear-“ Daemon was interrupted by your children running in. Your youngest boy running behind being only 3 years of age.

“Kepa! Look they have it here! Aenar show him!” With that your second son hands his father his favorite Valyrian dragon book. All your children loved when Daemon would read to them.

“Yes there are plenty of books, perhaps we can go to the library on the morrow.”

“Yes!” Your children were so excited. They loved their father so much and it helped that he was a good one at that. Always reading to them, taking them to tend to there dragons and teaching them how to wield a sword (wooden sword).

The day had turned to night and you were nursing both twins when your husband had entered the room after seeing your other children to bed. “They are all asleep.”

“Oh good, thank you my love.” You thanked your husband and he walked over and kissed your forehead before sitting in the chair across from where you sat on the bed. He watched as you nursed his children and something began to stir inside him. Once done he took one babe and you the other and placed them in the children’s bed the maids had put in the room for the twins to sleep with you and Daemon. You had both drifted off the sleep, your head on Daemons chest and his arm around your shoulders holding you to him.

You woke the next morning feeling bloated and nauseous. The fact that none of your clothes were fitting quite right didn’t help either. You had not bled for two moon cycles now. A part of you suspected you were with child once more but you wanted to believe it wasn’t true. Daemon had entered the room after taking the boys and Naerys to the training yard, finding you sat on the floor crying.

“What has happened ñuhon dōna ābrazȳrys?”

(My sweet wife)

“Daemon.” You choked out in between sobs. He went to the floor with you holding you into his chest. “I’m with child. Again.”

“This is amazing!” Daemon said kissing your forehead.

“Tis not. I’m going to get wider, my skin will have more marks.”

“Yes but you always get smaller again. And I have scars on my body do you not love me?”

“Of course I love you, but your scars are from battle, mine are from the stretching of my skin.”

“Your skin that covers your body. Your body that grows our babes. Our children.”

“Daemon admit it. I do not get smaller, with each babe I birth I do not shrink back down in size. I will never be the size I was when we wed.”

“That is perfect for me. 6 children you have given me, soon 8-“

“There are no more twins growing in my womb.”

“We will see.” He says with a smirk. “I do not care for your size. Just means there is more to love. You are my wife, my wolf, my life and I love you. I love the marks on your skin, it’s proof that you birth my heirs, my children.”

“My marks can be hidden with gowns Daemon. With each child I birth I go up in size. I have birthed 6 children, soon to be 7 and I’m already in need of larger garments. I am huge, I’m ugly.” You sat on the floor crying into your husband’s chest when he speaks up. “I will not have you talking about my wife like this.” He picks you up with ease from the floor and toss you on to the bed. “Daemon!” You shout his name. “No, this is my wife you are discussing. Mother to my children. I will not have you slander her so.” He rips your night shift off you and you lay there bare before him. He is now on top of you and you begin to cover your growing breast when he grabs your wrist and pins them above your head, he holds them there with one hand. He kisses the palms of your hands,” these hands care for our children, they care for me, massaging parts of my aching muscles.” Kissing down both your arms. “These arms hold and comfort our children. They wrap around me at night with love, and sometimes pleasure.” He then takes one of your breast in his mouth, flicks the bud of your breast with his tongue while his free hand massages the other, he then repeats the same releasing you from his mouth to say,” these breast that kept and continue to keep our babes fed, these breast that I worship so, I thank the gods every time they grow larger.” He covers your growing abdomen in kisses,” this, this is where our babes grow, you keep them safe inside you. Our proof of the love we have for each other, proof of my love for you in the children we create.” He lowers his head between your legs and flicks your pearl with his tongue. He licks a big stripe up your core as he stays between your legs for quite sometime your a moaning mess when he releases you,” this cunt that squeezes my cock tight, that births our children,” he kisses down your legs, his hands now gripping your thighs, “these I love to hold apart while I have you screaming with pleasure while I devour you, to prevent you from squeezing my head with them. Your legs though that run to our children at the first cry. I love every part of you, small or big, you are my wife and I will worship every part of you.” With that he brings his mouth back to your pearl and uses his fingers to thrust in and out of you, his free hand massaging your breast. “Daemon please.”

“Please what my sweet wife.”

“Your cock, please.”

“As you wish ābrazȳrys.” With in second Daemons fingers were replaced with his thick, hard member thrusting into you at a pace that had you seeing stars, you moaned in pleasure as he fucked into you. “Keep moaning my sweet girl, let the whole castle know your husband makes you feel this good. Let them know how I worship you so.”

“Yes, Yes! Daemon.” You screamed and moaned for him, giving yourself away to the pleasure your husband gave you.

“Yes my dear, release your self on my cock, my good girl.” With that you were a moaning screaming mess as you reached your release, your nails clawed at his back, as you wiggled under him in pleasure, he fucked you through your release eventually reaching his own from feeling your cunt flutter around his cock. He growled into your shoulder as his seed filled you. He pulled out of you after a moment and layed next to you pulling you into him. His hand grabbing your ass and striking his palm to it,”I almost forget, this,” he grabbed,”this I absolutely love, I love to feel my stones smack against it as I fuck your sweet cunt. Or when I take you from behind I get to watch it shake as I pound into you.”

“Daemon!”

“What! It’s true! I love every part of you y/n. You are my wife, no matter your size i will worship you till I draw my last breath.

“I love you too.” You kiss his chest and he speaks once more. “Truly I thank the gods everyday for your growing tits and ass. I suppose it’s true what they say, you don’t know that something is missing from your life until you have it.”

“I assume in this case it’s tits and ass?”

“Not just any, your tits and ass my sweet wife.”

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

The handmaid and the dragons

Pairing: Child Daemon Targaryen x servant mother nature fem reader, Baelon Targaryen x servant reader, Child Viserys x servant reader, Alyssa Targaryen x servant reader (All platonic)

Summary: Life at the castle can be most enjoyable as a servant when you can take care of two young dragon princes.

Author’s note: Viserys and Daemon are 4 years apart. Daemon was born in 81 and Viserys in 77

Reader are not describe, in my mind she is chubby/plus size, but she can be of all shapes.

English is not my native language, i'm sorry if mistakes were made. I will correct as soon as possible.

After a few months without writing fully, here is the first written of a multitude of ideas that I have in mind for some time. This One-shot could be continued in the form of headcannon or other One-chot, or multiple chapters.

---

The life of a servant was not easy, apart from early morning wakes and short nights due to requests from some residents and guests, not always very understandable and sometimes almost impossible to accomplish (as this noble woman, who wanted to enter one of the princes' chambers in order to try to seduce and marry the man she desired; it was as if that had ended with the dismissal of the said noble woman) did not allow you to have a good quality sleep.

But this life of servant, you would not have exchanged it for any other, because beyond the rebukes of some older servants and lords and lady, who could be haughty. You were in the service of the Targaryens, and although some nobles and peasants did not carry the members of this house in their hearts. You were not treated badly, on the contrary, you were considered better than servants of other smaller houses.

Since your early childhood you remembered having met people with Valeryan blood. Your parents had served under the late reign of Maegor and survived him because of their good labours. They then served Jaehaerys. You had followed their ways, as was customary for the people. You had become multi-tasker, allowing you to be better paid, and help your parents who were beginning to get old to serve the Targaryen house as well. You could go from kitchen to floor scrubbing, from washing clothes to helping princesses dress or hairdressing.

But more than that. More than this work. There were in that castle two small heads with silver hair, for which you had taken affection.

A few years ago, you had become a servant of Princess Alyssa when she was pregnant for the second time. You were one of many servants, but you always did your best to allow the princess to have everything she needed, in order to make it easier for her to wait for the birth of her second child. Being a hectic life, the rest offered and almost ordered by the masters, bored her to the utmost point, towards the end of her pregnancy, she could no longer ride on Meleys and was irritated for nothing, whether it be on the servants, her ladys in waittig. But when she calmed down, unlike other nobles, Alyssa apologized, knowing that she would not have reacted in this way if she was not pregnant.

But even in those moments, you loved the princess, not that you envied her, no, you loved her because she always behaved with respect.

---

When you seen the baby Daemon, you had taken a liking to him, how many times did you manage to give him gifts, however humble? You hadn’t counted, all you liked was to see Daemon play, or eat the cakes that you had prepared in the kitchens during your working hours. Just seeing him smile and recognize you made your heart warm. You didn’t forget the princess or Viserys when you made the cakes, but your favorite was always Daemon.

You always had a maternal nature, to care about others, but that nature is just manifesting more greatly towards Daemon. You never disrespected Alyssa, on the contrary, you worried about her, even though she was your age, you sometimes nursed her slightly, just out of concern for her health, like the day when she took baby Daemon to fly on Meleys’s back, you were worried.

“Princess Alyssa... are you sure you want to do this?...” The masters have advised against your health...”

Would you be afraid that Meleys would face evil against Daemon? Or would you not trust me?

“I have faith in you, princess... I know that you did the same thing with Prince Viserys.... It’s just that...”

“Fear not, Meleys will do nothing against Daemon, it’s only a little theft after all. It won’t hurt me.”

It is the close heart that you watched the princess go towards the dragonpit.

During the whole morning of labor, your mind was not focused on your spots. Every moment you could forget about Alyssa’s flight, something made you think of her or the children. Some servants with whom you shared your time of work, found your behavior strange, not understanding why you showed so much kindness and devotion to the royal family, that family which did not spank attention to the servants and people of the people, At least according to them.

All your stress went away when you saw Alyssa and baby Daemon return, it is with a sincere smile that you welcomed the princess, taking care of her and Daemon with the other servants.

Although you were a simple and humble servant, you had become close to Alyssa over the days, months and years, even when travelling for tournaments or festivities in other parts of Westeros. Alyssa ordered you to accompany her, the other servants did not see this in a good way, nor even the nobles who found it unnoble approach on the part of the princess. For they thought the nobles should stay among them, the others were nothing but nothing.

---

You saw the children grow, the first steps of Daemon towards Alyssa even gave you a small tear in your eye, so proud of Daemon’s progress. Not forgetting the progress of Viserys, He was 4 years old when you met him and now from his future 7 years, he loved playing with you, loving his wooden dragons by lending one only when it was sure to get it back later. He was a rather easy child, even more so because of his attraction for food, asking for cupcakes, the masters had more than once ordered you not to give any more to the young prince, but behind their backs, you gave one or two to please him.

You were not in direct contact with other members of the royal family, except Baelon, whom you saw radiating to the coast of Alyssa, as well as to her sons.

When the news of the new pregnancy of the princess. Everyone was happy, it took three years, but all hoped that the future event would be happy.

Oh... Alyssa...

---

You were awakened in the middle of the night, guards had come to fetch the princess’s servants. The corridors of the castle were dark to the limit of gloom, although they are illuminated by torches. To the right and left you could see servants, midwifes, guards and masters running through all the censes.

You felt a cold sweat through your back, a wind of panic engulfed you. Midwifes, was a sign that the princess was in full labor and about to give birth. But the presence of the masters, was bad omens, they came only when the birth was complicated to see serious. Alyssa was the only known person in the castle who was pregnant and about to give birth.

You passed in the corridor of the princess' apartments, horrible screams pierced ears, spanking you stop at the door, heart pounding, fear to sell, guards took you by the arms to force you to continue walking. You were assigned to the supervision of children while other servants were assigned to take over the orders of masters.

When you arrived, Daemon and Viserys were sleeping, unaware of who was going on in the castle. You sit on one of the chairs, watching the children, while trying to calm your breath, reassuring you as much as you could, praying to the gods, for the survival of Alyssa and the baby (whether you are a believer or not).

It was only in the morning, when you helped the children to prepare (make sure that Viserys does not wear his tunic upside down, tie their shoes), that Baelon entered. His hair was glued to his forehead by the sweat, his breath saccader. You turned your head to look at him before getting up from the ground on which you were kneeling, in order to bow down as required by protocol. But before you got up, Baelon raised his hand to stop you and walked towards the boys.

"My prince..." Your heart was beating, the anticipation of the news was great.

"The work was hard..." Baelon knelt before Viserys and Daemon, before taking them in his arms.

"Work?" Viserys looked at his father with questions.

"Your mother giving birth to a little brother..."

"Little brother?" Viserys’s eyes lit up, while Daemon seemed to be a bit soft.

"Yes, you will soon."

Baelon was happy and reassuring, he gave them each a kiss in the hair before raising his head towards you.

"Alyssa will need you, for now she needs to rest."

"Of course, my prince..."

"I know you’ll look after her."

You shook your head gently, your head was full of questions, all revolved around the princess and the newborn baby, the cries remained in your memory.

You only saw the princess when she was awakened after several hours of being unconscious. She was so full of life, she looked like a living dead, almost diaphanous. Her simple vision gave you a terrible desire to cry. Alyssa, seeing you, smiles softly, feverishly. You walked towards her before sitting down to lean out of her bed and gently take her hand, holding her company, explaining that Viserys and Daemon were happy to see her soon and have a little brother.

Alas, Alyssa’s health did not improve much, after almost a year the princess was very weak.

---

One morning, the nannies who took care of Daemon and Viserys had not been available, between one who was falling ill and the second who had to return to King’s Landing for family business, Baelon, whom you saw rarely, He ordered one of his servants to find you, so that you could look after the children. It was now days that the masters watched Alyssa, who slept more and more, ate less and less. Worrying everyone in the castle.

You decided to please the children, to make them stretch their legs in the company of guards, in the gardens of the castle.

The sun was shining, the light breeze of wind was refreshing, and you had placed yourself at the side of one of the fountains, watching the boys running in the garden gates gave you a smile, temporarily preventing you from thinking of Alyssa, and allowing you to live a little in carelessness. When Daemon fell to the ground after having tripped, he started to cry slightly before watching Viserys continue to run, he watched you with his eyes. You smile gently, before he gets up and walks towards you with tears in his eyes, he showed you his hands, covered with dirt and gravel.

“Y/nickname! Its hurt!”

“It’s all right, my little dragon, I’ll look.”

You gently took his hands, leaning gently to observe his hands, before taking a cloth, for the soaked in water to gently clean Daemon’s hands, he sniffed softly after moaning on contact with the cloth.

"That’s right, my little dragon, you are brave, like a proud warrior.” The tone of your voice was sweet and comforting to the young Daemon.

Daemon looked at you, then looked at his hands red with rubbing against his palms. When you laid a kiss on each of his palms, his eyes lit up, all forms of pain and sadness had withdrawn from his face. After all, soft drops on the little bobos are always miraculous remedies for children.

“Do you want to continue playing?”

Daemon shook his head, a big smile on his face, he went back to join Viserys, laughing as he pursued him.

You only came back at the time of dinner which could not be taken outside, the children in the company of members of the house Targaryen present at the castle, except Alyssa and Baelon, who was at his bedside. As for you, you were eating in haste in the room dedicated to the servants, talking with your friends, discussing the latest news while walking through the dark corridors.

The servants' dinners were often more courtly and of lesser quality than those of the nobles, but it was enough to give energy for all the day’s work.

“Apparently, Prince Baelon refuses to leave his wife’s bedside...” One of the king’s servants had just spoken.

Yes, her health is in perpetual decline, the masters fear that she will not pass on the next moons. One of the servants who had been looking after Alyssa had just answered her.

You listened to the exchange with attraction, trying to get information that had not yet been disclosed. But their discussions stopped when they noticed you. All knew of your closeness with the princess and children, taking care not to tell you about the royal family, lest you speak about it with the princess. You shrugged before looking at your friends and talking to them. It would have pleased the servants who did not like you, to show them that their behavior touched him. It was only when you were called to serve the young princes that you went out into the corridors, arriving near the dining room, Daemon ran in your direction, followed by Viserys. You took them in your arms before walking, a hand in the small hand of Viserys, while Daemon clung to your neck, while you carried it. The guards would follow you, ensuring the safety of the children.

Once in the children’s shared room, Viserys settled into a pillow that covered part of the floor in one of the corners of the room near one of the windows.

You settled down beside him, Daemon sitting on your legs in the direction of Viserys. It was a sweet evening, punctuated by the preparation of their bath, and some childish quarrels.

It was only when the guards opened the doors, and you looked in their direction. that you had a cold sweat.

The queen herself entered, she seemed paler then before, she almost wore a sick complexion. Your heart began to beat, your intuition told you that something serious had happened and how much you would have wished to have been wrong.

---

Tag list : @avalyaaa

[arcielee]

Zȳha lyks

Summary: You find an ally with the second son of King Viserys. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 2.4k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, fat phobia, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied. Author's Note: This story is based on this request:

I definitely tweaked it a bit but I hope you enjoy it.💜 Thank you to my beloved beta reader @annikin-im-panicin for your insight with this peace and to @azperja for your emojis 💜 Valyrian translations: Zȳha lyks is his peace 💜 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

It was your father’s ambition to weave himself in the inner circle of the crowned princess that pulled you away from Claw Isle, leaving your brother behind to step into the role vacant for House Celtigar. During your journey, your father would repeatedly impress the importance of absorbing the tutoring of the maesters, to learn of your ancestral history before it had been so diluted by the blood of Westeros…but he was also adamant that you were to take advantage of your social seating, to make worthwhile and lifelong allies while in King’s Landing. 

You were quick to note the marionette strings that Prince Aegon held, allowing the Strong bastards to hold their heads high with their snide comments on how they found you, “pleasantly plump enough,” or so they supposed. 

It cut through your skin and burrowed into your heart, but your face never betrayed your anger nor your hurt. Instead, you went to your father with your heartache but his response was almost flippant about your torment. 

“Our blood stems from the veins of Old Valyria,” your father now spoke of this as a fact, as something without any room to argue against. “They are our kinfolk and we seem destined to intertwine our blood with the blood of the dragon.” 

But on this day you pushed aside your father’s words the moment you saw Prince Aegon and his puppets shift their collective cruelty onto the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond Targaryen. 

He was a quiet, sullen boy, who always seemed sunkissed and kept his large, lavender eyes downcast. You saw how his pain curved his posture, a hooded melancholy draped across his slouched shoulders. He blanched as the boys retrieved the Pink Dread, his freckles stark on his porcelain skin. 

Their gibe laughter echoed within the Dragon Pit and it boiled your blood, urging your steps forward to push past the brunette pair of princes and towards the puppeteer. Aegon’s brow raised, amused with your flushed fury that was staining your features, quick to sneer his comment on how, “–perhaps this swine could be mounted in–” but it stopped once your balled fist cracked into his nose. 

Your satisfaction trilled up and down your spine with the pop of cartilage, watching as he cupped his face and the crimson that poured between his fingers. His wounded howl called back the Dragonkeepers and the White Cloaks assigned to them, all horrified at the sight. You were in trouble, undoubtedly, feeling the large hand that curled around your wrist to drag you back to your father. You dared look at Aemond, catching the upturn quirk of his mouth, the glitter in his eyes that met with your own.   

It began a bond with the foundation of a mutual disdain, a hatred that would be solidified with events at Driftmark. 

The events that followed that fateful night were flurried: the crowned princess all but fled the capital with her new husband and children, while your father decided to uproot and follow after. This had been halted by the queen’s request, behest of her daughter Princess Helaena, asking if you would remain as one of her ladies and confidants. 

It was something that could not be denied and you found yourself alone with Helaena, her first request was for you to bring a book to her brother, who had since been boarded up in his room to recover. 

“Am I to read to him?” You peered up from the cover to Helaena. “What if he does not wish to see me?” 

“I believe this book and its company would interest him,” she glowed with her sweet smile, “I believe he would enjoy the change in narration, as our maester is rather monotone,” was all that she offered. 

At first, Aemond had been hesitant of your company, bashful of the bloodied bandages that required to be tended to, but you showed to be steadfast, unflinching, but with a sense of empathy without the effortful pity that came from everyone else. You saw how he warmed as your visitations turned habitual, with you joining with his lessons and remaining when the maesters left. Helaena would slyly dismiss you for the day and this allowed Aemond to help you practice your shared ancestral tongue, or listen to whatever tome caught your attention in the library, even delving into bits of gossip or updates that pertained to his dragon. 

“Vhagar flies over once a day. I assume it is to check on you,” you informed him one afternoon, “and she rests on the outside of the city walls, overlooking the bay.” 

His cheeks pinked with his shy admittance, “I can feel her.” 

You could not help your smile in return. Whereas Helaena was always sweet and always kind to you, and even Aegon had a newfound respect in your regard, you found it was the second son of King Viserys that allowed you to find a sense of comfort that you thought had been left at home. 

Aemond recovered, as you knew he would, and you still remained at his blindside as he reacclimated to his new depth perception. He began to wear an eyepatch over his scarred socket, its wrathful red line curling above and below, along with his apprehension to the whispers of the court about the marred Targaryen prince. 

“You are the rider of Vhagar, with the blood of the dragon in your veins,” you reminded him, your own blood rising to the surface. “Pay them no mind.” 

Aemond listened to you, as he always did, focusing his determination on relearning his world with his handicap. You watched as he grew tall, his sinewy frame becoming taut under his fitted tunic and slacks, a result of the countless hours he spent training with Ser Criston. He matured with a severity etched into the marble he seemed to be chiseled from, though you still would see a perpetual smirk that would play across his lips. 

Your heart fluttered until it bruised against your breastbone when he shyly asked that you would walk on his right side. “I wish to be able to see you,” he murmured and you burned with his words. Aemond showed consideration to match his gait with your steps and you enjoyed the heat that seemed to permeate from him; his large palm would cover your own, tucking it into the crook of his arm to keep you close at his side. 

Worthwhile and lifelong allies, your father’s mantra repeated in your mind, but on his eight and tenth nameday, you felt the thrum of an unknown emotion vibrating within you with his close proximity. 

His mother had gifted him a sapphire stone that was carved to fit where his eye once been, and when he focused his bicolored gaze on you–how the blue was brought out in his lavender eye with the complement of the gemstone, its amber flecks in the shine from the candles lit–did you feel the air pull from your lungs. 

You had never cared for the vicious tittering of the noblewomen and would find yourself arguing how Aemond was handsome still, as it seemed a quality trait that most Targaryen men possessed. But in that moment, as the warmth flooded your features from his steady stare that now bore through you, you began to grasp it to be so much more for you. 

Aemond misread your reaction, flinching to pull on his eyepatch with his apology: “I would never want to offend you–” 

Your hand reached with its own volition, touching his elbow to stop him. He paused and looked at you and you took a breath before you could manage to say, “Aemond, you are beautiful.” 

You burned from your boldness that was spilling from your tongue, your realization of what began as a mutual hatred for his nephews was on the precipice of something you knew you could not ignore. 

Aemond watched you, his eye flitting over, before he tucked his eyepatch into his pocket and then offered his elbow to you. “Come, Lady Celtigar, we should not keep them waiting,” his voice low, and only then did you notice the rose hue that touched his cheeks. 

After his celebration, it would be romanticized how the prince disappeared, taking Vhagar to fly to Claw Isle and demand your hand in marriage, against the Lord Hand’s protest for a more strategic pairing. Aemond would not be deterred and he returned with the intention to have you as his wife, which you graciously accepted. The ceremony that followed was intimate, steeped in the tradition of Old Valyria and sealed with a kiss that tasted of iron. 

It was then you felt a new shyness that swept through with your muted mortification of the intimacy that was now expected of you, that Aemond would see all of you. He always seemed to take pride with how you were dressed in your finery, gowns stitched to complement your buxom figure, but you soon learned that Aemond much preferred what was beneath the silk and lace. 

That night he would show you. He relished to peel away your layers, his mouth ravenous to taste your skin, his tongue licking to follow the natural slopes of your breasts and to the valley between. Aemond was panting with his anticipation, placing hot, opened mouth kisses to cherish your every curve, with gentle nips of his teeth that left blooms of rose as he continued towards your soft stomach and lower. He savoured your taste and how your body responded, how you were breathless, flushed, writhing beneath him. 

“Aemond,” you gasped as he nestled between your plush thighs. 

He shushed you, his breath warm against your silken folds, and it tickled in a way that caused you to squeeze his head between. His pleasure spilled with a low, guttural groan that rattled your bones beneath, but he would never pull away, as you would learn.   

Your fingers combed through his silver hair as he began to tease you, sparks licking the base of your spine as he drank your essence. His gentle touch fell in tandem with his tongue, a pacing that was harmonized with your sweet sighs, only quickening with the flutter of your walls. The sparks of pleasure flashed white with your peak shuddering throughout, pulsing around his digits that remained knuckle deep, coaxing you to completion. 

When your breath finally returned, you felt him grinning against your cunt. You found the muscle strength to tilt your chin down and meet with his eye blown, the shine of you on his smug expression. “One more for me, pretty girl,” his tone was low, commanding, his lips feathering your now swollen bloom of nerves. 

You were boneless and quivering from your second release and only then did Aemond shift to move on top of you, melting against the softness of your skin, fitting in a way that you never realized before was missing from you. 

He captured your mouth, his gentle thrusts filled you, completed you, and he trembled with his own reserve until you finally begged, “Aemond, my love, please, I need you–” that he rolled his hips against you, burying to the hilt with a rhythm that grew desperate. The litany that spilled from your lips as you clung to his shoulders, the flashes returning but with color from this new pleasure rekindling deeper within you.

That night, Aemond showed you the dragon that you were always aware thrummed beneath his practiced poise, something insatiable and wanting. He played the perfect gentleman in court, though his large hands always reached to touch, to grab whenever eyes were turned. You were his peace personified, decorated with love bites of your passion shared, the lifeline to his sanity that balanced on the edge of the coin flipped by the gods. 

And it was tested when the crowned princess returned to argue for the claimant of Driftmark. 

That night, the dinner had a palpable tension that the minstrels tried to drown with their music. Aemond held his gaze, piercing, loathsome, waiting for a moment to lash out, and that moment came served on a platter: a suckling pig that crackled still from the flames it had been removed from. 

You first noticed the crass snickering of Prince Lucerys that was followed by the swell of your husband’s anger, something you quickly abated with the gentle press of your hand to his forearm as you pushed to stand. The room halted, the attention trained to you as you made show to hold up your gilded cup. “Final tribute,” your sickly sweet tone began, “to the health of our nephews…” 

You knew that Aemond was watching, his agitation holding him rigid in his seat, his curiosity browed as you continued your insincerity, stating all three of their names with emphasis, “...each of them handsome, wise,” and your lips, stained by the wine, curled upwards, “Strong.” 

It was a rippled effect: the shock of the queen, the sharp eyes of the Lord Hand, the heated glare from the other end of the room, but it did not stop you. Instead you looked for the perpetual smirk that was now playing across your husband’s mouth. 

“Come now,” you gestured again with your goblet and even Aegon, with a dark chuckle, raised his own, “let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” 

“I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond pushed to stand, his ire returned with a force as he moved to wall you away from Jacaerys. “You dare raise your tone to my wife,” his wrath cut with each word, the fire in his blood pouring from him. “She only meant to compliment you… or do you not think yourself Strong?” 

It ended as quick as it had begun with Jacaerys thrown across the floor and a throaty chuckle from the back of Aemond’s throat. The clash of dragons was split apart by the White Cloaks and you watched your husband with a pride blooming in your chest, knitting with the love you now realized you had always carried for him: he was truly beautiful, squared off and fearless, his severity now furrowed onto his features that showed golden from the candles lit. 

You held your head high as you walked to grab his sleeve and his attention returned to you, to your touch, though his scowl remained splayed on the sharp edges of his face. You pulled him to leave, to return towards your bedchambers; Aemond brimmed with a passion that you knew needed a release and you would forever be willing to be that vessel for your husband.

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