#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. 24 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: "But the courage he had bolstered on his descent to the Black Dread crumbled at the sight before him." Word Count: 6499 CHAPTER WARNINGS: A n g s t 🥲, mention of the term dwarf, Aegon being weird with crab legs.

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: I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and it was worth the wait.

Like every ball before this one, Aemond was in a state of agonizing torture for its duration. Though this feeling was tenfold for reasons that were clad in ivory, sitting before his family’s table at the far right, close but out of reach. The agitation that tightened his muscles and carved into his bones was unsettling as he tried to diagnose its origin. When did it start, when did it get worse, and when will it get the best of him? He tried to take a page out of his brother’s book and drown his emotions in wine, which did help his muscles relax, but beyond that, it was not a cure. 

He sat on the far right end of the table, Aegon on his left, Helaena seated between him and Daeron, then their mother. On the Queen’s left was the King, his hand, and then sat Daemon, Jace, and Luke. The ten faced the entirety of the grand hall, within perfect view of everyone and the mind-numbing entertainment that followed. With Aegon cackling as he did, spitting out food and drink next to him, Aemond was very nearly at the end of his rope of patience. His only solace was that Lucerys was completely out of eye sight, because he was just as boisterous on his end of the table.

But her laughter and smile tethered him to the chair. Valeana became more and more of her old self when she drank, he realized. Perhaps a little more brazen when she is completely out of her wits, but still, he could see remnants of the little Valeana he once knew. Easily amused by crude humour and childish jokes, enraptured by stories that have been told a thousand different ways, awed by two-bit magicians who hide their cards in their sleeves so obviously, it pained him to witness. He remembered that one of her favourite tricks he used to do was pull a coin or a ring, a seashell or an interesting pebble from behind her ear. 

She’d always demand him to tell her how he did it and he would deny her the satisfaction, because if she knew the trick he would never get to witness the awe in her face. He forced himself to bow his head when he found himself smiling at the memory. Luckily, no one saw him, least of all his own personal fool that sat right beside him. 

There was a team of dwarves reenacting the battle of the Step Stones comically, with one man dressed as a red dragon, and the other as a giant crab. Aemond hardly paid attention, his eye too focused on Valeana’s profile to even register that Aegon turned to him until he spoke. 

“Aemond,” his elder brother whispered harshly next to him. When Aemond did not respond, Aegon stressed his name again. 

“What?”

“Maris is on the other side of the hall.” 

When Aemond slowly turned to Aegon, he was met with a shit-eating grin that he desperately wanted to punch repeatedly. 

Aegon went on, unperturbed by his brother’s threatening leer, “I just thought I’d remind you, since you seem to have forgotten her already.” He cleared his throat and flushed it down with wine before reaching out for a plate on his left and bringing it between them. “Try the crab legs, brother, they’re delicious.”

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth, remaining silent lest he say something that his brother could use against him. Aegon plopped some of the legs onto his plate, and looked up at his younger brother. 

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled up two legs that were still connected, “My favourite part is cracking them open before I slurp up their insides.” 

Aemond’s hand curled around his dinner knife, knuckles white with the insatiable desire to plunge it into Aegon’s eye. Instead, he spoke lowly, only for his brother to hear, “Iksā iā qrīdropagon naejot īlva lentor.” (You are a disgrace to our family). 

Aegon sucked up a piece of crab meat through the crack he made in the thigh, he chewed twice before swallowing, “You know I do not know what that means.” 

Aemond slowly turned away from him, returning his eye back to Valeana and allowed his hand to relax from its grip on the knife. The dwarves’ play had ended and the fool’s bard, Quintyn Quicktongue, took over.

A short time later, the entertainers left the floor empty when the musicians began to play. It was not a formal dance, with no required steps and prior lessons to fulfill. Just mindless instrumentals for couples to dance at their leisure now that people were too into their cups to manage a more structured dance. Aegon slipped away sometime before that, muttering about needing to take a piss. He hobbled through the small exit behind them, probably to find a planter or a window to relieve himself in. 

Now without his presence, Aemond was able to relax in his chair. He fiddled with the goblet in his hand, trying to keep his mind occupied with a checklist of duties, lest he allow the alcohol he had been consuming all evening take over his senses and make him impulsive. It was difficult, because the more feral part of his brain begged him for freedom, urging him that it would liberate his soul if he just acted upon instinct. And his instinct was telling him to spur Maris Baratheon and sweep Valeana Celtigar off her feet and kidnap her like some Ironborn savage does with a salt wife. 

Before he could pull himself from his chair, his mother was at his side, leaning into his ear, commanding his attention with her sharp tone – the one he had always associated with motherhood. 

“Ask Valeana to dance before your brother has a chance to make a fool of himself,” upon announcing her request, his eye flickered over to the girl in question. It was too late to even decide to listen to his mother, because Aegon had already got to the table, returning from wherever he went to slither in front of Valeana. 

Aemond shared a look with his mother; he did not have to say a word, neither did she. Her lips pulled into a frow, and she settled back into her chair, glancing over to the Lord Hand.

The sight of Valeana smiling up at his brother and at how comfortable she appeared in his presence made his stomach churn. Aemond downed what remained in his goblet and swiftly stood up, excusing himself by planting a kiss on the side of Helaena’s head. 

“Watch for salt-hungry eyes, Aemond. She will drown in them,” Hel’s warning only made him hesitate for a brief second. He was not in the headspace to decode his sister’s madness, so he just gave her a nod and left. 

His departure had gained the eye of Maris, which he would rather avoid presently. Her neck lengthened as she tried to catch his attention from her table, but Aemond pretended he had not noticed, and instead slipped into the side entrance to the hall, into the corridor that was occupied by various guests and servants serving a variety of hand-held foods. 

“Leaving already?” Ser Criston caught his attention. The kingsguard lingered against a wall, observing the patrons of the Ball diligently. 

“I needed air,” Aemond confessed, leaning his shoulder against the wall next to him. “There are too many people in there.”

Cole nodded, “Every family in the Seven Kingdoms; even some Dornish families are here.” 

A servant passed by with a platter of oysters on a bed of salt. The white cloak shook his head when offered, but Aemond needed to preoccupy his fidgety hands, so he plucked one off and then the servant left them to their conversation. The oysters were already pried open at the mouth, so a dirk wasn’t needed to shuck it open.

“Bit ironic serving those on Maiden’s Day,” Cole observed, watching as his prince slowly opened the oyster up, revealing the soft meat inside. “Oysters are aphrodisiacs, known to increase the libido of a grown man or woman, yet the pearls inside are symbols of virtue and virginity.” 

Aemond did not say anything, instead took the half with the tongue and brought it to his lips, slurping up the salty meat in one go. There was something hard and pebbled that landed in his tongue when he swirled the morsel in his mouth. Taking the empty shell, he spit out a slightly lumpy black pearl. 

“Hm,” he eyed it curiously. 

Cole chuckled softly, “You found the lucky oyster, my Prince. Mayhaps you should give it to Lady Maris as a gift.” 

At the mention of her name, Aemond rolled his tongue in his mouth and pursed his lips as if her name was a sour fruit he just tasted. Plucking the pearl from its natural plate, he rolled it around in his fingers, then tossed the shells onto a tray of another servant passing by.

“I am not certain of Lady Maris,” he confessed, his tongue loosened now in the presence of a man that he trusted. For a moment, his eye flickered towards the entrance when one of the Tyrell girls walked through with a tall man with dark hair and a wide, wolfish smile. His cloak told Aemond he was a Greyjoy, and his sharp blue eyes when they met Aemond’s cold lilac one told him he was Dalton. 

“Prince Aemond,” the ironborn nodded, and the Tyrell curtsied when they passed by. 

Aemond’s only response was a simmered glare and a flare of his nostrils. 

Cole, oblivious to the interaction aside from a glance of acknowledgement, went on to ask why that was. 

“It is a smart match, Aemond, and a compatible one. What is it that pulls you away from her?”

His fingers played around with the pearl in his palm, “She has started to bore me.” 

There was clear exasperation in Cole’s features, distinctively paternal in its nature. “You are starting to sound like your brother.”

He might as well have called him a bastard and a coward, because being compared to Aegon was just as great of an insult. The pearl rolled along between his fingers, the lump pushing painfully against his skin as he clutched it. 

“I do not wish to chain myself to a woman that I can lose regard for so easily,” he argued.

“Give it time, Aemond. Most marriages are not built on love and attraction initially. With Maris, you already have much in common, so much so that your conversations span hours I’ve noticed. You can do worse.” 

But he could do better, much better. He wanted what was his all along, what was now being stolen by either his brother or his nephew. What could have been his, had it not been for his ego; had it not been for his over thinking mind at odds with his weak heart; had it not been for him allowing those around him to influence his motivations. 

His mind drifted back to that day when he returned from a flight with Vhagar, where Valeana approached him at the main gate. She wished for peace and he had slighted her. His pride was wounded that day and he was spurred with the paranoia that she was a monster out to destroy him. Aemond rejected her, which he justified was the right thing to do, because she had hurt him when she ran into Aegon’s arms and bed, to do whatever it is they did in his bedchambers that night. It did not even cross his mind he might have driven her into his arms after what he had done to her in the library, because the sounds he heard that night ripped through his mind and down to his ribs, seizing him in anger and selfish pain.

Emboldened by a new wave of resentment at the mental reminder of his belief that Valeana was his brother’s newest lover, Aemond pulled himself off the wall and pocketed the pearl. He did not know the intricacies– nor understood them entirely –of Aegon’s arrangement he had with her. Whether it was built on the foundations of Valeana’s vengeance or Aegon’s innate desire to orchestrate chaos, it was clear that lust became a consequence of it. Mayhaps it began with Aegon, knowing his brother’s insatiable appetite for bodily pleasures, and with Valeana’s new nature of seeking out attention where she could, she was all too eager to allow Aegon to have his way. But then that begged the question: did Valeana take lovers before she came back? Was this a new trait that developed over the last decade?

Floris hadn’t mentioned in her rantings about Valeana luring men into her bed, she had only talked about Val’s need to seek out pity by mimicking a trapped spirit, pacing the corridors of her castle. Even as children, boys paid her little mind, unlike her younger sister Shyla, who was regarded as the prettiest of the three. Even Floris had suitors every once in a while, but her nature tended to send them in the opposite direction.

The cogs in Aemond’s mind turned and turned, and all Criston could do was watch him with a furrowed brow, and a concerned eye. 

“My Prince, is everything alright?”

Then it struck him like a whip; harsher than the lashes he suffered as punishment for his crime against her. 

Valeana never had lovers. She could not have, if the stories of her being reclusive were true. He’s never seen her around men at all, other than her own brothers and…

He shut his eye, feeling a headache spike at this temple. 

Aegon was the first man to show her affection, and like a neglected puppy that didn’t know any better, she leaned into his touch willingly. And Aemond foolishly pushed her into his arms.

“I am fine,” he lied. “I just need some air.”

With that he left the knight to stand there in befuddlement. Aemond sped walked through hall after hall until he found a corner that was blessedly free of guests and of light. The sconce on the wall had burnt out, leaving the corner in blissful shadow, save for the moon that filtered through the small arched window. He leaned against the wall, snugged in the corner and immediately started to press his fingers into his temples. Aemond’s heart was pounding in his chest, steadily reminding him with every beat that his mind could not protect it any longer, because he was too much of a bloody fool. 

He had managed to ease the tension in his skull after a while, and his heart rate lowered with the comfort of the darkness that hugged and shielded his figure. Though he could do nothing to cure the dull ache in his chest, because all he could see were her sad eyes that she only had for him. And her smile that now belonged to Aegon. 

The sound of women’s shoes tapping against the flagstone in his direction made him freeze. He had no desire to see anyone, new or otherwise, but perhaps if he stayed as still as possible they would not notice him.

They didn’t, but he did. Her sudden appearance was electrifying in its fortuitous timing. 

Valeana sped by him, head bowed as she braced a hand on her left thigh through her skirts. She appeared to be limping, though just barely, it was enough to spur Aemond into following her, veiling his yearning for her with a concern over her wellbeing. But as she rounded the corridor and found the entrance to the cellars below, he did not call out to her. Instead he hesitated until he heard her safely reach the bottom to Balerion’s resting place. 

Aemond found himself in a state of uncertainty and fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of her ire. Fear of failing. Fear of heartbreak. Fear of her. He shut his eye and imagined Vhagar, a near two-century old beast; formidable, ancient, terrifying, battle-hardened, living longer than the beast below ever had. And he, Aemond Targaryen, claimed her, the oldest and largest dragon in the world, who has known more war and bloodshed than any dragon before her, post Doom of Valyria.

He could claim Valeana Celtigar too. 

Hurdling down the spiral stairs, Aemond curled his fingers into a fist, bounding his will in determination and unwavering resolve. Swallowing his fear and reservation, much like he had done as a child approaching Vhagar, he forced himself to breach the line of no return. 

But the courage he had bolstered on his descent to the Black Dread crumbled at the sight before him. 

There Valeana sat upon the bench, her ivory and rose gown pulled up to the crest of her hip and thigh, where a leather corset was being tugged loose. Her pale knee peaked out through a gap between the harnesses that secured her thigh to the dark wooden appendage that was her leg. She had freed her thigh from the laced harness and then reached down to tug the wooden leg off with a groan of relief. 

Aemond’s mouth popped open at the sight of her leg, bound in linen from the top of her calf and around the stump where muscle and bone cut off. Half her calf gone, her ankle, gone, her foot, gone. For the first time in years, he felt his vacant eye ache from socket to scar. The scarred tissue that was once his eyelids fluttered around the sapphire that now filled the empty space, feeling the ghost of the dagger that traumatized it for life. 

His entire world came crashing down on him in the instant; everything that he thought he knew, and everything he said and did in the moon’s time that Valeana had returned. He had the knowledge that her leg was healed and she was able to walk, and while half was true, the evidence of his most heinous crime glared at him like his sapphire eye every morning in the looking glass. 

Aemond’s memory begun to torture him as it spun and wove tapastries of his misdeeds. The library, where he had pushed her, the shoe he had found when he tried to find her. Dragging her drunkard self in haste through the castle by her wrists. How he made her run after his bloody horse, whilst she pleaded for reconciliation— gods, he felt sick. 

The urge to flee from her was potent, but the leer of the Black Dread would not have his cowardice that day. Frozen in time, Aegon the Conqueror's dragon seemed to snarl at him for even considering it. 

The whimper she let out from her lips as she massaged her thigh was what did him in. It just plunged him into the waters of his remorse and self-hatred. The shocking need to help her as he once did as children took control of his limbs and his lungs; it was instinct, despite his overwhelming dread and shame. 

Her name on his lips and his step forward brought his presence known to her. Her spine straightened from the intrusion, and when her head whipped around to see him standing there, he knew she wasn’t prepared for anyone to find her in that state, least of all him. 

Lightning surely struck down her spine. The level of shock and dread that filled her to see him standing there, witnessing her in this state was a whole nother level of humiliating. Every hair on her body raised on end as her mind frantically went into survival mode. Valeana forced her trembling arms and hands to move and grab her prosthetic to put it back on, but she fumbled, and the wooden appendage clattered on the floor, causing her to gasp a soft: ‘no!’ 

Aemond was there in an instant, on his knee at her side and grasping her prosthetic with tender hands. Had she not been in such a fretful mind, she would have noticed how his fingers trembled just as much as hers. 

“Here, let me–” 

“No–” She wretched her leg from his hands with a sniffle. Without looking at him, she quickly slotted her stump into place and adjusted her knee around the leather harnesses. Lacing the corset to secure it around her thigh was another challenge though, because with her shaking digits she was having a difficult time weaving the strings through the holes. 

His balmy hand stopped hers and she couldn’t help but flinch and freeze under the contact. By now she was looking down at her leg through a blurred veil of salty tears, barely witnessing his fingers delicately lace the corset, one hole at a time. Valeana forced herself to sit still, concentrating on the hum of music above them and the short laboured breaths she was allowing herself. When Aemond got to the end of the corset, he tugged at the strings, causing her to flinch. 

“Is that too tight?” His question was as soft as his touch, and it made her chest ache. 

“No… No, it’s perfect.” 

At her approval, he began to tie the laces, twice to secure its place. Once he was done, his fingers did not move from her thigh. They remained where they were, above the hemline where leather met flesh. His thumb moved along the stitching and over her soft skin. His touch felt like licks of fire and every time it happened, her teeth sunk further into her lip to stop herself from making a noise. Eventually Aemond’s hands journeyed south, stopping at the peak of her white knee through the dark material, and that is where his head dipped until his nose hovered over the joint, almost as if he was going to kiss it. 

“Does it hurt?” The question was so silent that she thought she had imagined it. 

Swallowing, she shook her head and answered tentatively, “I’m used to it.” 

The admittance sent a shuddered breath through him, making his shoulders buckle at the weight of his transgressions. She could feel his hands gently tighten around the curve of her knee, even through the leather harnesses that framed it. Then his forehead fell onto her thigh, which was a strong enough gesture for her to shut her eyes and free the tears that clung to her lashes.

After a while she could hear and feel him speak; the vibrations of his timbered voice rattled her joints and burned her skin. 

“Valeana, I had no idea–” 

Her sadness and longing battled her anger and her resentment. She wanted this, didn’t she? She wanted him on his knees, to kiss the wound he inflicted on her, and beg her for her forgiveness. She wanted him to want her, to feel his fingers on her exposed skin. But why now? Why did he cave now, after all this time? Spurring her at every interaction, then coming close and then pulling away with such animosity she was convinced that she was the one who pulled out his eye.

Was it because she was now coveted by two other men? Aegon did say that Aemond was possessive when his things were being used by others. This is what the plan was afterall, but now it was coming into fruition it just tasted bittersweet. If she was not with Aegon, if Jace was not tasked with the mission to woo her into a betrothal, would Aemond be there with her, or would he be dancing with Maris until the hour of the wolf? 

Ultimately her anger won, despite her sadness dampening its rigid edges. Even in the softness of her tone, the bite was still there when she spoke. 

“It does not matter, Aemond,” she pushed away his shoulders, shoving him away from her leg so she could return her skirts and preserve her dignity. “Leg, or no leg, the consequence of your actions has cost us a friendship we’ve developed since infancy, if there ever was one.”

She might as well have taken his own sword and shoved it through his chest. Aemond’s head was still bowed, incapable of looking at her and facing the truth of her words. He was a man defeated, something that Valeana had tried to manifest for half her life in the privacy of her own mind. Though she could not help feeling that she was just as defeated as well, because her loss had never been rectified.

“I will make it up to you,” again, he spoke so softly it was painful to hear it. 

“I am done trying to forgive you–”

“I know,” his voice rose a desperate octave, but then returned to its original state. “I know I do not deserve it. But, I will rectify all that I’ve done.” 

Valeana shut her eyes tightly. She was so tired of getting hurt by this man, but somehow she was incapable of refusing to move from his storm of arrows that penetrated her body over and over again. And now that she was the one with the bow, she found it was difficult to let go of the string. 

“Do not bother, Aemond,” she forced herself to say. Her voice strained at the resistance of her heart. “Mayhaps it is better if we part ways equally. You with Maris, and I with–” 

“No! Do not say it,” the sudden rise of volume jostled her. Now she had no choice but to look at him. His lilac eye glistened with unshed tears, a sight of which she did not think was possible on Aemond Targaryen. His nose was pink, and his lips were plush and swollen as they wobbled. There was a faint pull she felt under her skin, giving her the sudden need to capture those lips with her own. But she refrained. 

“I do not want her,” Aemond continued, pushing those words through his teeth with a low growl. “I want… I want you. I-I need you.” His other knee met the floor, the weight of his grief causing him to sink into her lap. Aemond’s forehead and nose buried itself in the valley between her skirt-covered legs and his hands desperately grasped onto her phantom limb, tugging it to chest.

“I miss you.” 

Valeana’s will absolutely crumbled. She let out a world-shattering sob; the air that left her lungs was the breath she had been holding in for ten years. Her body folded over him, with her own desperate hands flinging onto his shoulders and fingers tangling in his hair. 

“I miss you too.”

Aemond sharply inhaled as if his bodily instinct was to try to repress any sound that would betray how vulnerable he was. His shoulders tensed under her before he slowly lifted his head from her lap. They were so close that their noses bumped into each other. Through the blur of tears she concentrated on his good eye, while her right hand shifted down to his cheek, where her thumb grazed the ridge of his scar.He shut his eye when he felt her digit dip underneath his patch and slowly pushed it over his forehead, leaving him completely bare before her. 

Valeana swallowed as she gazed upon the endless sea of his sapphire eye, framed by the gnarled pinked flesh that used to be his eyelids. It twitched underneath the light touch of her fingertips, and she wondered if it still pained him like her leg. She wondered if there were times he thought he could feel his eye, or his lashes graze his cheeks when he blinked. She wondered if it was the most painful thing in the world when it happened. Her forehead slowly landed on his brow, her lips hovering over his gem eye, nose buried in the corner of it. 

They were just two broken individuals, trying to fill their empty spaces with each other. 

“I thought you hated me,” his whisper reached her ear, tickling the hair strewn against her face. 

“I thought I did too,” she replied, voice soft and coarse. “I wanted to. But even when you made it so easy for me to–And I do mean easy.” 

The corner of Aemond’s lip twitched ruefully, and his grip on her leg tightened closer to his chest. 

“I couldn’t,” she finished, brushing her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch, letting their noses bump and align with each other. She swallowed thickly when she was staring back at his beautiful lilac eye, framed by his dark blonde eyelashes so long she could feel them ghost her own. “Why did you push me?”

A question that he dreaded to answer, but she deserved one nonetheless. She felt his hand move from her leg to cup the side of her face, fingers curling around the shell of her ear and thumb roaming over the mound of her cheek, collecting the tears under his calloused pad. 

“I was terrified of you. Of what you were doing to me,” he shifted between her legs, adjusting himself so he was now holding both sides of her face. Aemond pulled away from her so he could look at her properly, earnestly, “I have been childish and cruel to you, my friend. I am so sorry, Valeana… For everything I’ve taken from you. For everything I’ve done since then. And I know… I know I pushed your heart into… his hands.” 

Valeana closed her eyes and sniffed deeply at the mention of Aegon. A new feeling that she was not accustomed to, that she was not willing to let go just yet. It tugged at her heart in the knowledge of her own conflicted mind. Had it been weeks ago, even when her resentment was fresh and untethered, she would have taken Aemond right then and there. Defiled her white dress and committed her body, heart and soul to him in sickness and in health. But even in his groveling, his heartfelt apology that her soul desperately craved, the apprehension gripped her throat. She was afraid to get hurt again, afraid that she will find another mistake in Aemond, afraid that she may never forgive him. But now she found something uncomplicated. 

Aegon felt safe, Aegon felt secure, but Aegon also felt… unknown. 

“But I will spend the rest of my life in dedication in 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.” 

“Aemond I–” she desperately wanted to say it. There was a visceral need to tell him she always did, but that doubt clawed at her throat, preventing her heart from speaking on her behalf. “My life has become so complicated. My father wants me to try to court Jacaerys at his behest, and then there’s—”

“Shh,” he gently hushed her with urgency, desperately wanting to keep his name from her lips. “You need not decide now. Take your time. I’ll wait for you.” Aemond gently nudged her face down so he could place a kiss upon her forehead, and that’s where his lips hovered. “But I only ask for one thing.”

Valeana blinked rapidly, trying to clear the remnants of her tears, “What is it?”

“Dance with me,” he pulled away to look upon her again. “It has been my greatest desire all eve.”

Her brow slightly furrowed as she continued to blink, an expression so adorable he could not help but smile at it. 

“I do not think I am in the right state of mind to go back upstairs, Aemond.”

The prince gently shook his head, “Not up there. Right here, where our only witness is Balerion’s ghost.” 

At the mention of the dragon, her eyes shift over to the massive skull that had been staring upon them the entire time. Valeana almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it; imagining the largest dragon to ever exist being forced to watch such a pathetic display of human emotion. She did not know anything about the dragon’s temperament, but she doubted Aegon the First’s dragon was as sentimental as Dreamfyre or even Syrax. 

Valeana returned her eyes onto Aemond, a small smile breaking her pout as she gave a single nod, “I think I can handle that.” 

They ascended with Aemond’s firm but gentle grip on her arms. He handled her as if she was just learning how to walk again, as if her legs would collapse underneath her if he let go. Her leg had a dull ache, but it was barely there compared to the state it was minutes ago. When they stood at full height, they took a moment to assess each other as if for the first time in years. 

Valeana reached out and fixed his eye patch, securing it over his eye, and cleaned up the stray hairs and righted his skewed circlet. Aemond brushed his fingers over her ear, tucking back wayward stands before moving to her neck where he adjusted her simple white gold and ruby necklace. 

Once they were satisfied, Aemond's hand found the small of her back and the other took her’s before pulling her body into him. Valeana’s other hand found Aemond’s shoulder with ease and now with her chest pressed against his, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. There was still the hum of music above, subtle enough that they were able to hear their own breathing, but loud enough that they could find a rhythm to their movements.

No words were spoken, just peridot and amethyst staring into each other. There was no extravagance to their waltz; their steps were slow and shallow, but they moved around in a circle before Balerion in grace and poise. 

“You’ve gotten better,” Valeana broke the silence, the comment lifting the heaviness of the mood that they had sowed earlier. 

“Hm,” Aemond allowed himself to smirk, “I had a good teacher.” 

Her lips twitched as her smile broadened, filling his chest with warmth and hope. “You were a terrible student.” 

“Mayhaps it was because I was distracted.”

“Distracted by what? We were alone.”

He hummed in amusement, his head bowed slightly so his nose grazed over the crest of her head. She spotted his tongue flick out and run over his coiled lip, causing a ripple of heat go through her body. 

“You developed breasts then, and they were so soundly pressed against me–”

“Oh my gods, Aemond,” she buried her face into his shoulder when her face burned. “You were a little pervert all along.” 

He chuckled whilst nuzzling into her hair. A rare sound, one that she had not heard for half her life. It was sweeter than strawberries and richer than whipped cream. 

“You left bruises, you know,” Val emboldened herself to say, then pulled her face from his shoulder to meet his furrowed brow. “From the other night… You littered me with bruises.” 

At the realization of what she meant, his head tilted with a little sparkle in his eye. His lips curved, reminding her of a mischievous little fox. Suddenly Aemond’s hand slid from her back to her front, his long nimble fingers finding the neckline of her bodice. 

“May I see?”

“Aemond!” She swatted his hand away, ignoring the spike of excitement that it brought her. His response was more chuckles, a gift to her ears. Then his hand moved to the side of her face where he pulled her head closer to him so he could plant a kiss upon her forehead, thus causing a frenzy of butterflies in her belly.

This was so very strange if she thought too much about it. Who was this man, and what did he do with Aemond One-Eye? He was almost too familiar to the Aemond she once knew. 

“He’s the same boy you loved, Valeana. Just older, more scarred, and hidden away.”

Valeana smiled to herself. She supposed she found him then. Lifting her head back up, she moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek. The motion made him hum in contentment, leaning into the warmth of her palm before turning his face so he could place a kiss upon it. 

Aemond’s eye flickered then, moving to the side of her face. He blinked a few times before pausing their dancing so he could raise his hand towards her cheek. 

“One moment,” his lips pursed, “You have something just there–” 

He tentatively reached towards her ear, and then with a flick of his wrist he pulled his hand in front of her, cradling a chromatic black pearl with a green sheen and a little lump at the top between his fingers. 

Valeana’s eyes bugged out of her head at the sight of it, her hands flying to her ear as if she would find more hidden behind the cartilage. Aemond’s smile broadened at her reaction, which had never changed after all these years. 

“How did you– Did you have that this entire time?” 

“It was behind your ear–”

“Oh stop,” she playfully chastised, with a limp smack of her hand. 

He quickly took it and gently placed the pearl in the center of her palm, “For you.”

Valeana eyed the precious marble in her palm. She knew its worth, since black pearls were rare, particularly one with this colouring. Though she doubted he cared much for its worth, what made it truly special was how it was given to her, like a promise that they will return to the children they once were.

Aemond’s hands curled around her own, wrapping up the pearl in their fingers. She looked up at him, marveling at his face now that it was so close. He was always so handsome, but now he was ethereal. Angular features cut from marble, crafted by the Valyrian gods. His lips were always her favourite part of his features, next to his unworldly lilac eyes that felt far too soft for a man like him. 

They inched closer, bridging whatever gap that remained between their bodies. But before their noses could even bump into each other, an intrusive voice cut through their peace like a Valyrian steel sword slicing through someone’s skull.

“Oh, well, isn’t this a touching sight.” 

Aemond and Valeana spun around towards the threshold of the stairwell, both instinctively unlatching from each other at being caught in a compromising position.

Leaning against the archway, his hands clasped in front of him, the older prince peered at them with a mocking sense of beguilement. 

“Did I interrupt something innocent, or was dear ol’ Balerion going to bear witness to a deflowering, on Maiden’s Day no less?” Daemon’s eyebrows raised to his hairline, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish smirk. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE SNEAK PEAK:

“Who is he?” Valeana asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He seemed familiar, but from this height, she could barely make out his face through all the dirt and sweat. She took a sip of her drink in contemplation. “Dalton Greyjoy.” And then she spat out her drink. 

Notes: Hokay *wipes sweat* we've gone over the enemies arc. Now path to redemption...right? RIGHT? I hope you guys liked this chapter, it was difficult to write, because I wasn't sure if it was satisfying enough. But don't worry, for those that want him to suffer a lil more -- he will. We're almost halfway through the story. Or a little less. I honestly don't know how many chapters this will become. So I'm going to slow down updates to once a week, because now I'm writing more than two stories at the same time. For those who missed it, I'm in the middle of making a lengthy fem!Aegon one shot for funsies...cept it's not very fun, it's actually quite sad :') Hopefully I'll get that finished by wednesday or before.

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.

[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.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Something Familiar~Plus Sized! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Black! plus sized! reader

Pairing: Rhaenyra x reader

Genre: Modern AU, friends to lovers, College AU, Hurt and Comfort, Smut

Warnings: Smut, 18 + only.  Mentions of fatphobia, colorism and racism. 

Summary: After watching Rhaenyra go through a long string of lovers, you’re left with her on another winter weekend, a bi weekly girls night  that occurs throughout the semester. You find comfort and solace within her, confessions are made along with discovering things about each other.   

Word Count: 4, 124

Writer’s Note: I wished we got a more plus sized Rhaenyra from the books so here’s a bit of that here. I couldn’t get that damn SZA snl song out my head and thought what if Rhaenyra wanted a big girl herself and finding not just the perfect cuffing season partner, but an amazing partner in general. Hope you guys enjoy it!

“You sure you don’t want me to order in something for you?” Rhaenyra asked for the third time. 

You snuggled on the blue sofa with her large, golden stuffed dragon, Syrax and shook your head yet again. 

“I ate after class, like I said before, Rhae,” you said. “I’m fine.”

Rhaenyra frowned as she returned to her phone to type away at something, leaving you to her stuffed dragon and your thoughts. She looked quite cozy this evening: gray hoodie that pooled down to her knees, black sweat pants that brought out her curves and ass so well (a little too well but this was the first time in a long time you found yourself looking so hard). Her hair even looked effortless in a lazy updo of silver strands that always had you mesmerized. 

“Y/N, your last class ended at 3, it’s only 5 and we’ve got a long night of drinking and movie watching to get through,” she said. Her fingers still worked against her phone screen while she spoke. “And you need to eat again, so I’ve got a pizza ordered for us later. OK?”

You only shrugged, accepting your fate and held Syrax closer. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to eat, that asshole you went out on one date with still got to you. Rhaenyra must have caught on to your troubled demeanor, already stepping over to the couch and taking the spot next to you. 

“What’s wrong?” she said. Her purple eyes shined with concern, they were a bit light from this close, not that you were paying too much attention to them. “Did you want something else?”

“No, pizza is fine. It’s not about that,” you said. 

“Then what?” Rhaenyra whined. “Did finals go to shit? Did some asshole hit your bike again.” 

“No, but there was an asshole,” you said. You fidgeted with your fingers as you continued. “Remember that guy I met at the bar?”

Rhaenyra nodded and placed her hand on her temple. 

“Red Keep, yeah?” she said. “Was it that broody, handsome guy? Crispin?”

“Criston,” you said, correcting her. “Yeah, the first few dates went well. Charming as he was when I saw him but...”

You trailed off at the thought of him and his abhorred attitude. Rhaenyra laced her hands together with yours, a look of fierceness overtook her face. 

“What did that fucker do?” she said. “If he hurt or touched you--”

“He didn’t.” you said. “Well, not physically at least. He started pestering me about weight and losing it soon before he wanted to take me out to more fancy places and even accused me of giving it up too fast when I just wanted to kiss him. He mentioned how Black girls were easy and I just walked away from it. He looked unstable when I did so I blocked him on all socials”

Rhaenyra blinked. You thought she didn’t hear you, but her face told you all you needed to know: it was bunched up in fury. Her hands went to the pockets of her hoodie, yanking out her cell phone.

“Rhae, what are you doing?”

“Getting Harwin to beat his ass,” she said. “Maybe even Daemon, he still has a soft spot for you.”

You took her wrists, stopping her before she could finish a text to Harwin. Harwin Strong. Her ex-boyfriend and current on-again-off-again friend with extra benefits, benefits you heard of constantly through texts and phone calls. You didn’t’ hate Harwin (the opposite, he was cool), but you hated how much Rhaenyra harped on how good he was at the devils tango. Sure, it was nice to hear your friend so satisfied but you felt insecure about it. Not that you didn’t like Harwin like that (he was fine as hell, Rhaenyra had taste clearly) but you always craved her attention, well, more of it. 

“Don’t! I handled it,” you said. 

Rhaenyra nodded, fingers tapping he screen again to instead go to her contact list, thumb hovering over Daemon’s number. Your ex and an extremely hot headed man who might kill Criston.

“Daemon, then?” Rhaenyra asked, a little too calmly. “He might leave Criston with a broken leg, or worse.” 

“Rhaenyra! No,” you whined. “It’s OK.”

“It’s not, Y/N,” she said. “You’re too good for that. That bastard hurt my best friend, and I’d get him back for you. You know that, right?”

Rhaenyra’s purple eyes bore into yours, sucking you into their gorgeous pools. That was why you wanted more of her attention. She cared about you, more than Daemon did, more than anything Criston ever tried to do in the brief moments you both dated. You never been with women intimately before, yet you couldn’t help but fantasize of what it would be like with Rhaenyra; the one holding her, kissing her and the one she raves about to her friends. 

“I can get his ass if you don’t want Daemon to,”  she said. “Y/N? You all right? You’re sure he didn’t do anything else? You look distant.”

Damn, she caught you. Well at least she still thinks its about Criston, you didn’t know how to bring these feelings up to Rhaenyra. It wasn’t about her not being into women; Rhaenyra came out to you as bisexual a year of knowing you during freshman year, so you knew she was into women too. She also dated Black people too so that wasn’t an obstacle either. The main and only obstacle in the way was that of your friendship, you were never closed to to the friends you had growing up and Rhaenyra was different. She actually cared, like she did now by threatening a guy you dated for about a month--she understood it could have been much worse. 

“Y/N, talk to me,” Rhaenyra said. She took your hand and squeezed it. “I can hop in my car right now and key his car, give me the word.” 

You shook your head this time, yet you couldn’t help but giggle at the threat of it all. 

Rhaenyra smiled too. 

“I’m serious, that bastard fucked with the wrong bestie,” she said. “You sure he didn’t do anything else?”

“I am,” you said. “Y-You didn’t have to threaten him with Harwin and Daemon. You wanted him to disappear, didn’t you? ”

Rhaenyra shrugged, her smile widened as she rubbed down gently on your knuckles. 

“No,” she stated quickly. You gave her a good side eye, forcing her to continue. “Well, I just wanted Harwin rough him up a bit in case he’d try something like that again. Would a mild threat be OK?” 

You gave in, anything to stop discussing your almost-douchebag-of-an-ex. 

“Yes, but if Harwin goes too hard on him, I heard nothing,” you said as you retreated back against her stuffed dragon Syrax, cuddling against her golden belly. “What film are we starting with?”

***

You found yourself slotted on the sofa with Syrax between you and Rhaenyra, pizza boxes on the table before you, along with a package of cheap, Christmas-themed cookies from her refrigerator; the movie that played was a spicy, albeit, a little too spicy rom-com. 

Halfway through the movie and the characters are already heavy petting, making out and moaning like no one’s business, pushing it’s supposed PG-13 rating to it’s extreme. You felt the room get hot as the two female leads made out on the bed, one in the others lap, not giving the other a chance to breathe in the kiss. 

“Wow, they’re really going at it, aren’t they?” you said. You got up from the sofa, grabbing a few cookies. “These cookies are amazing.” 

Rhaenyra nodded. She pulled you by your wrist, then tugged you closer until you were nearly in her lap, sat on her thick, plush knee. The heat rose up in your chest, burning well enough for sweat to follow underneath your long sleeve. It wasn’t pulled down properly to cover the entirety of your bear back brushing her abdomen as she pulled you flush against her. 

“You’re tense,” she said. Her hands were warm against the skin of your back, foreign at how quick they flew there. It made you shiver. “Are you ok? Do you want to watch something else?”   

You shook your head and attempted to flee from the close contact, yet Rhaenyra pulled you further against her until your back hit her soft stomach; she had you trapped within her arms before your second attempt, chuckling near your ear. 

“Is there something wrong with cuddles?” she said. “We always cuddle. Are you still upset about Criston?” 

She wrapped her arms around your waist, laid her chin against your shoulder with those lilac eyes full of enough love and concern that always managed to make you feel safe. That was the issue though, it didn’t make you feel comfort, rather hot and bothered with how she touched your skin so easily. It could be familiar, like her and Harwin and the other string of exes and lovers she left in your wake during your friendship. With her so close now it was difficult not to notice how straight her white hair was, reflective of snow that fell and just as beautiful. Her lips full and rosy, perfect and kissable. Too perfect. 

Rhaenyra leaned closer, forehead on the edge of your jaw as she leaned her head up; you leaned your head down, lips meeting hers in a kiss. Her lips were soft, tasting sweet as the cookies you shared: like a sugar-filled concoction that emulated Christmas--something you craved throughout life, a nostalgia you couldn’t reach but always yearned. Her arms tightened around you, twisted you so that you were now straddling her. 

The feeling of her plush thighs under your ass broke you from your spell. You pulled back from her, breathless and embarrassed due to the heat that radiated so, you felt itchy. Suddenly Harwin and those lovers invaded your mind, what if she still had feelings for them? What if you fucked it up for yourself and your friendship?

Rhaenyra saw your internal panic and placed a hand on your cheek. 

“Y/N, breathe,” she instructed. 

You tried to do so, yet it grew ineffectual as words spilled from you fast.

“I’m so sorry! I-I know you’re probably getting back together with Harwin,” you blurted. “I-I shouldn’t have kissed you, I-I was in a moment!”

Rhaenyra tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. 

“What moment was it?” she said. “And last time I checked, I haven’t dated Harwin in a year, haven’t fucked him in six months.”

“Nyra, I’m being serious,” you groaned. “You don’t have anyone else? The kiss wasn’t weird, was it?”

She shook her head. 

“No one. And it wasn’t weird, different but a good different,” Rhaenyra said. She caressed your sides, then pushed at the plump middle. “But familiar at the same time. I always thought you were hot, Y/N, I just couldn’t find it  in me to act. But you did that for us. I should have done it before, I always wondered why you looked at me in certain ways.” 

As Rhaenyra spoke her eyes devoured you, traced every inch while her hand rested against your thigh. Her touch was warm now, inviting as you played with the strings of her hoodie. 

“What ways?” you said. 

She smiled again, bearing beautiful teeth while she snickered. 

“Like I was the ground you worshiped,” Rhaenyra said. “Not in the literal sense, that’s more of Harwin’s style but you would do anything for me. Which scared me, because I wanted to be that for you. I am that for you, that’s why I wanted to deal with Criston. I knew he wasn’t good for you.” 

Her lilac eyes flashed with anger at the mention of Criston. You watched her and contemplated getting off her lap, but  she kept you there as she took your hand.

“I’m willing to try whatever you want tonight,” Rhaenyra said. Her eyes softened again before she pressed a light kiss to your hand. “We can finish the frisky film, or get a little frisky ourselves. I like having you on my lap,pretty girl.”

Rhaenyra’s words made you warm. It was a good warm this time, no longer leading with an itch but something calmer, yet you were still weary with any sort of frisky fun she suggested. Sure, you made the first move, but she was still your best friend. 

“Y/N, are you still with me?” she said. Her hand traveled to your arm to trace it softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to--”

“But I do, Rhaenyra!” you blurted, cutting her off. “I-I love- l-like kissing you. It felt better than kissing Daemon, much better.”

Rhaenyra kneaded at your thighs to bring you closer till your chests pressed against one another, along with your foreheads, lips inches from one another. 

“Can I kiss you this time?”  she said. 

You nodded and leaned in to kiss her. 

“I need a yes, Y/N,” she whispered, her hands caressing your face. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” you said, “Kiss me.”

Rhaenyra’s lips met yours again with enough fire that you had to suppress a moan. Your lips moved together fervently as a dance that basked in the sweet tastes you both shared: of lust, cheap tasting cookies an enough passion. The both of you broke from each other after a few moments, eyes huge and never leaving each other to speak non-verbally. 

Her mouth went to your neck to lay soft kisses to the skin, all the while slight moving her hips, thighs slipping under you expertly, alleviating a nice, tight feeling at your core. 

“Nyra,” you groaned. Hands found themselves in her silver locks, you tugged slightly. “You’re moving too fast.”

Rhaenyra chuckled, sudden warm breath tickled you while her lips stopped just below your jaw at the base of your throat. 

“Oh? You want me to go slower?” she said. Her voice playful and low on your skin, kisses continued prolonged and deep to leave a few marks. “Does it feel good?”

She jerked her hips again, forcing you to tilt your head back and grasp at her arms for support. It felt wonderful. Her voice, the kisses, the movement of her hips: soft, big and strong for you. Careful for you. Was she ever this good for Harwin? 

“Y/N? Shit, am I really going to fast?” Rhaenyra said. 

She pulled back to give you space yet you chased; you kissed her and wrapped your arms around her neck to keep her close.

“N-No, it feels amazing,” you said against her lips. “I-I’m just overthinking is all. Can I be honest?”    

Rhaenyra nodded sharply, lilac eyes never left your face. It was safe. She solidified that feeling for you.

“You won’t compare me to Harwin? I-It’s not like I’m jealous of him or anything!” 

Of course she’d think you’re jealous of him. This is the third time you’e mentioned him while you’re on her lap during a make out session. 

“No, I won’t, Y/N,” she said. Her lilac danced with a bit of mischief as they waltzed the curves of your body. “But it’s ok if you are jealous. I know I was of Daemon.”

“Wait? You were?” you said.  

“Yeah, I see what you saw in him,” Rhaenyra said. “He’t hot, got an energy about me that makes people want to be with him but he’s not my type. He’s got too much fire, like someone you know?” 

“Yeah,” you giggled. “You both are very passionate. He was a decent boyfriend but didn’t pay attention to me as much as I want.”

Rhaenyra hummed against your neck and planted a few more kisses there. 

“You told me, I remember all of the complaints,” she said, engraving the words into the crook of your neck. “I wanted so much to tell you that you could do so much better, I could be so much better. But I was with Harwin and I thought you were completely happy. Did Daemon make you feel that way?”

You knew the answer as soon as she asked, even though the kisses she accumulated was a major distraction. 

“No, he was decent, sure and great on certain occasions but I wasn’t happy,” you explained. “But right now I feel content with you.”

Rhaenyra’s lips spread to a grin that tickled at your skin. You couldn’t help but smile too. 

“Was he good with his mouth?” she said. “Well, besides running it that is.”

The heat rose up in you again. The bad heat this time, yet it transformed into the good kind that struck your core as Rhaenyra’s hands traced down your belly to your inner thigh to pet the flesh there.

“Don’t get shy on me again, love,” she whispered. “Did Daemon eat you out like he should have? I don’t remember any stories of any mind-blowing orgasms about it. Matter of fact, maybe his dick was lacking in that department too.”

“Rhaenyra!” 

She giggled and kissed the corner of your lips. Her hand squeezed at your thigh, jolting you at the sensation. You cringed at the jiggly skin she felt. Criston popped back into your head and even Daemon who didn’t have a problem with your weight but did joke about at times you didn’t like. 

“Aw? I’ve eaten plenty of pussy and I think I’ll love yours the best, don’t you think?” Rhaenyra asked. She tilted her head, yet dropped some of the cockiness as she saw your panic again. “Was that too much? Want me to drop the dirty talk?”

You shook your head. You loved it. But will Rhaenyra love your body? Sure, she was plus sized too but you knew how people were. Some Black guys you liked and knew had issues with Black women, darker ones especially and the fat ones too. It was cruel and you couldn���t help but think Rhaenyra wouldn’t like what she saw underneath. Once the pants and panties came off and she saw how your legs looked. Would she still want you.

“Y/N? Talk to me?” Rhaenyra said. Her lilac eyes were still attentive as they were.

“Will the dirty talk stay once you see me?” you wondered. “Once you see me, I-I won’t be too big for you, will I? You’ll still want me?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened; her hands left your thighs, cupped your face before she leaned in to plant a deep kiss to your forehead then a few to your jaw and a tiny, but passionate one to your mouth. 

“Of course. I love all of you,” she cooed with more kisses to your face. “I’ll take care of you and go at your pace. I promise, what ever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” 

You laughed at the kisses,  a barrage of them that made you flush with enough love you could have combusted then and there. Rhaenyra was a safe space, safe enough that you wanted this, wanting fully to let her show you how much the love fueled her in whatever you both wanted to do. You didn’t know what this was. What you were both doing but it felt right. It felt amazing. 

“So, babygirl? Can I try my best to make you feel great?” Rhaenyra said, her voice deeper now and ready to put the skills she claimed Daemon lacked to good use. 

You nodded, whispered a yes and that’s all it took for the fire to drive Rhaenyra: her hands slid under your thighs as she picked you up and flipped you so that she straddled you now. Her lips worked more heat on you, attacking your neck and chest before she tugged at the end of your hoodie. 

“Can I take this off?”

A nod. She took it off, then attached her lips back to your own. Her tongue slipped in, eating a moan that drove from you while her hands cupped and played with your breasts. She hummed at the feeling as she pinched and played with the clothed nipple.

“No bra? What a naughty girl,” Rhaenyra purred. 

You spoke through pants as she moved down your neck and devolved a few more fresh hickies.

“I wore a big enough hood and it was--Nyra!”

Your hips bucked as she squeezed both breasts then twirled the nipples with delicate hands. 

“Mmmh, I could stay here all night but that won’t be much fun, would it?” she said. 

Rhaenyra lifted herself from her straddled position on your lap, lowered herself to the floor all while slotting a hand between your thighs and pulling against the elastic of your sweats. Your pussy throbbed at her new position: lilac eyes staring straight up at you with so much yearning you could have came then and there; her hair already seemed fucked out, strands wavy and sprawled all over her face.

She pulled your sweats down slow. The air that hit your bare legs and your core underneath your sweats made you squirm. Rhaenyra beamed. Her attention never left you as she kissed at your inner thighs, squeezing at the plush areas and ghosting fainting kisses near your core. You whined at how close she was. All she needed to do was pull the last piece of fabric away and there you would be. There she would be. 

“Fuck, you’re wet. There’s this little damp spot right, here,” she whispered. She leaned in to take a tiny kitten lick to the area, right at the spot you needed her most. 

“Rhaenyra, p-please just--fuck!”

She fingered you a bit through your pants with a smile deepening as her fingers worked. 

“If you want me to fuck you all you have to do is tell me,” Rhaenyra said. “Go on. I want my dessert, babygirl.” 

She growled. Her hands dug into your thighs as you tired to get your words together, your head grew misty. 

“Please, just eat me out already!”

Rhaenyra chuckled, pressed a kiss to your waist and gripped the waistband of your underwear with her index finger and thumb. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She peeled them off and groaned at the sight of you; your pussy was soaked thanks to the foreplay you both dabbled in. Rhaenyra felt a surge of pride rush through her, yet she restrained herself enough to gently push a finger against your center. She gauged your reactions: a few whimpers escaped you and your thighs couldn’t keep still as you added a second finger.

“Nyra, ah! Y-Your fingers feel so good!”

Rhaenyra smirked and placed a soft kiss to your clit. 

“Do they? I think you’re ready for my mouth, what about you?” 

You looked to answer but you were cut off with another moan as Rhaenyra curled both of her fingers. Your walls stretched around her, warm and tight to the touch. You didn’t know how long you would last. 

“Nyra, now. Please, I might come soon.” 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened but she nodded and finally dove into your succulent sweetness. She started off slow. Licks slow and gradual with a few quirks of her fingers. You bucked a little, hips rose a bit but Rhaenyra held them down as the kitten licks turned ravenous. Her lips popped and sucked at your precious pearl, forcing you to slam your head against the sofa cushions and take a tight grip to her silver locks. 

“Rhaenyra, shit!” you groaned. “I-I feel it!”

By it, you meant the tightness of your lower belly. The heat, the good kind that moved and jerked right above where Rhaenyra worked: where she sucked, prodded and fingered you. 

“Mmmh, go ahead, love!” she moaned around your heat. “I-I’ll be right behind you!” 

She pulled one of her hands away from your quivering thighs, dug it down her own sweats. You couldn’t see, but by how wild her hands moved and the jerk of her own hips, it was easy to know. Her actions and the moans that vibrated up to your pussy built up and up until your orgasm stumbled through. Both you and Rhaenyra came at the same time--your names coming from your lips like a prayer. 

You slumped against the couch to catch your breath; Rhaenyra climbed back up the sofa and next to you. She kissed your cheek and forehead, gasped once you brought her lips to your own. You didn’t care, you loved her and you tasted divine. 

“So?” she said as she pulled back from the kiss. “Was I better than Daemon?” 

Of course she was still conceited after giving you one of the best orgasms you ever had. You playfully slapped her chest and straddled her. 

“If you give me another orgasm like that, maybe I’ll admit it,” you teased back. 

[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 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 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 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 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 𝗯𝗮𝗰�� 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 ��𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗲.

[written-in-flowers]

Not me turning my one shot into a series because my idea of Aegon surprising Baratheon!reader on her birthday suddenly spiraled into his spoiling her and showering her with love and lots of PDA. Not to mention, sprinkles of smut in between. Don't wanna give any spoilers, but there's a play, a picnic, and a tour of Aegon’s favorite place in the city (besides the brothels and no child fighting rings included).

[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.

[lady-ashfade]

My plans:

Working on requests! So hang tight!

Also might be working on a small cute drabble for Aegon with his wife. Him being a caring husband and a good man, he’s going to take care of his pregnant girl.

Also … @ms-fade is going to work on some more smut stuff so if you wanna check that out. (They’re taking requests!)

Also for my stranger things follows don’t think I forgot: Regret and guilt, forgive or forget. Idk when I’m work on it but I haven’t forgotten it!

[b00kdiary]

MASTERLIST

SJM: A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel Fanfic Alex was falling between worlds- falling through worlds- until she landed with Bryce someplace that was definitely not Hel. And now there was a male before her, the most beautiful male she had ever seen and something other than fear sparked in her heart. Wattpad & Ao3 A Court of Pleasure and Ruin (Nesta x Cassian x Azriel)

Nesta can't stop thinking about how Azriel and Cassian made her feel during training and all the things she wished she could do with them. Looks like her wishes have come true.

Wildest Dreams (Batboys x Plus size reader ACOTAR)

Where the reader finds herself gaining the attention of the most notorious males in Prythian and it seems that even her wildest dreams couldn't prepare her for the night they would share.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Relax (Bat Boys X Plus Size reader) Where the reader goes into the Birchin sauna for some peace– and then falls asleep. She wakes up and finds she isn’t alone anymore. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel desperately want to help her relax. (Hint: High Lady Feyre likes to watch) Dreamer-(Rhysand x Reader)Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs. Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.

Yours (Rhysand x Plus size reader) Y/N meets Rhys in a bar- one month after the worst night of her life. One month after he saved her. But Rhys has no interest in being a hero, and Y/N doesn't want to be a victim. They only want each other.

Euphoria- (Ithan Holstrom x Plus size reader)

Where Y/N finds herself needing to be reminded just how desirable she is, and Ithan Holstrom is more than willing to show her.

Stay With Me (Rhysand x Plus size reader) Part Two Part Three

Rhysand reappears at the cabin four hours after he had gone on a mission- wounded and bleeding. Y/N has no choice but to help him, even if it means yanking out every ash arrow embedded in his wings by hand. But something Cassian once told her makes her re-think the line between pleasure and pain, and she will do anything to make it better for her High Lord. ‘Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?’

Better Than Any Fantasy (Ruhn Danaan x Tristan Flynn x Plus size reader) Y/N’s been avoiding Flynn like the plague, and Ruhn knows why and is more than happy to tell him. Especially when that conversation leads to something much better than any of them could have hoped for.

Hurt me (Cassian x Plus size reader)

Cassian and Y/N are late for an IC meeting not that Cassian cares, no, he has two things on his mind: your body and your pleasure.

Mirror, Mirror (Cassian x Plus size reader)

Y/N flees a party where it seems Cassian and Nesta can’t stay away from each other, but when Cassian comes rushing after her, more than one declaration is made and more than one secret is discovered. Cauldron Blessed (Azriel x Plus size reader) When you overhear Azriel say that the Cauldron was wrong about you. Take it (Cassian x Azriel x Plus size reader) Part 2 Rhysand's playing Cupid and his meddling has you experiencing something you never would have thought possible. Unworthy (Azriel x Plus Size Reader) Azriel hated her, he was disgusted by her… and he didn’t want another male coming near her. It all comes rushing to the surface one night when Y/N can’t take his cruelty anymore- and Azriel can’t keep lying to her about how he really feels. Mine (Cassian x plus size reader) Y/N goes wedding dress shopping and is confronted with females who make it clear that they think she’s unworthy of being Cassian’s mate, that she shouldn’t be his wife. Cassian shows her just how fucking wrong they are. Fire Night (Eris X plus size reader) It’s Fire Night and High Lord Eris has to complete the Great Rite. He finds Y/N – he finds his maiden. Cautious (Bat boys x plus size reader) PART TWO It's just as Cassian said: the bat boys were young and dumb… and fucked females in the same room as each other. Y/N’s in for one hell of a surprise.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

[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 - coming soon 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?