#if it weren't for my aunt's comments on how much it has grown every time we meet up i genuinely wouldn't notice

[robinsnest2111]

moots, I'd let you braid my hair in a heartbeat if we ever met up <3

[kitixie]

the swordsman

plot: you are Rhaenyras bastard sister, and throughout the years of adulthood you have developed a love for sword fighting. this does not go unnoticed by Aemond, who has a special interest in you that he would never dare to speak of.

warnings/tags: large age gap (like 15 years age gap), denied orgasm, nephew/aunt 'ncest, rough lovin, 18+ only pls, HEAVY SMUT

extra: this is my first time writing for Aemond, I kind of shaped him how he is on the show and also how I want him to be lol. I hope y'all enjoy, and please feel free to leave request, comments, or critiques! ty! The edit I posted earlier is the ages/faces I imagine them as, but feel free to obviously imagine y/n as yourself, I hope you all enjoy!

*not proofread

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Past

...

"The bastard sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen" had been a title that lingered over your head throughout your entire life. The life you lived wasn't as horrible as the title, and for that much you were grateful. You were raised by Viserys, of course, and sweet Aemma had decided you'd be taken in when Viserys' mistress arrived at the Red Keep that night. Your mother was covered in blood from her waist down, and her skin was paler than the moon. She had attempted to give birth on her ownsome, only to realize that you were going to be born feet first. When she arrived to the Keep that night, she had given birth before the sun rose and had passed away before luch was served that day.

Rhaenyra was 3 when you were born, and the two of you grew together, and the closeness you both shared was something Viserys wished to see between he and Daemon.

Over the years, you grew up with Rhaenyra and Alicent, although you spent most of your time becoming an exemplary swordsman with the help of your Uncle Daemon. You preferred the structre of armour and the sharpness of blades as opposed to soft dresses and flouncy hairstyles. Not that you couldn't dress up, you enjoyed doing so every now and then, you just weren't as active in the social scene as the other two girls, and why would you be? You were a bastard, and that was that.

When Aemma died, your heart shattered. You spent days coddling beside Rhaenyra, and Alicent on occasion. You poured out all the love inside your body to them, and even though this was the second mother you had lost, you were determined to remain strong. While losing Aemma hurt, it did not compare to the betrayl and rage you felt when it was announced that Alicent would be marrying Viserys. She had been your and Rhaenyras best friend, for what felt like a lifetime, and she let her father and his schemes ruin that.

When Rhaenyra was set to be married, you went through loss again, but only after having one of the best times of your life travelling with her and Ser Criston. You knew of all that happened between them, as Rhaenyra was not one to keep secrets from you, but you had a better hold on your tongue than Criston, as time would prove.

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra had wonderful families, and you had grown quite close with your nephew Aegon, and niece Helaena. Your other nephew however, Aemond, had mostly denied any of your attempts at a friendship. Although he was a loner, and over the years had grown into quite an asshole, you still wished to know him.

Present Day

...

The training yard was swarming with men on this inordinatley hot morning, and the air reeked of musk.

Earlier this morning, you had opened the doors to your balcony to feel of the weather and upon your immediate suffocation by heat, you decided that it was a hair up kind of day. You had dressed in your most androdgynous tunic and armour, as you knew that today it would be tricky to get a fight in. Aemond was going to be fighting with Criston today, and it was an event that everyone in the yard had been babbling about all week. Not that you weren't excited to see the match as well, but you also preferred to be in the action instead of watching it. Most people gave you no flack about being a woman, especially those who had been at the unappealing end of your sword before. But the one person, who without fail, would prevent you from fighting today, was your very own nephew, Aemond Targaryen. Whenever he was in the public training yard, he would create an entire debacle about you being allowed to fight. Always the one to spit fire back at fire, you would esclate the scene. He never had a valid reason that you shouldn't be swinging a sword, he just always simply said:

"I don't wish to see it."

That line was burt into your memory and the heat that rose to your face thinking about it proved how much you were dreading going to the yard today. But, regardless, the helmet you wore slid down over your braided bun and you went on your way.

Arriving at the yard, the energy from the groups of men was palpable. You could almost see the testosterone flowing in the air, the bulk of it oozing from the smug face of your nephew.

Aemond stood twenty paces from you, in the center of the yard. He was casually chatting with Ser Criston and some other Lord that you didn't recognize. His posture was that of someone with confidence, with his chest out and shoulders slightly leaned back. The small group finished thier conversation just in time for the yard clerk to ring the bell, suggesting it was time for Aemond and Criston to begin sparring.

...

Ser Criston swung his morningstar violently toward Aemond, who with one quick swipe of his sword sliced the ball from the chain. He rounded on Criston, bringing the tip of his blade to his neck. Criston waved his arm in surrender, and the fight was over. The entire time you had been watching, observing, right from the front row of the circle. It was a brave move, especially since you had hopes to fight that day, but you couldn't help yourself. The way Aemond moved, and glided around the ring was something of another world. He looked so enticing, almost as if he was engaged in a dance with his partner.

After Ser Criston surrendered, Aemond got cocky. He began scanning the circle for some other opponent to pick a fight with, and for a brief second, you had hoped he wouldn't chose you. But as fate would have it, wearning new armour that day had it's benefits.

"You, do you fight?" Aemond bellowed, drawing the attention of the whole crowd. He had the tip of his sword pointed directly at your chest plate.

"Yes." Was the only word able to stumble out of your mouth, and thankfully so, because it seemed as though Aemond hadn't recognized your voice.

"Then get in the ring, if you're man enough."

Aemond was taunting you. You couldn't let him win the mental battle, or else the physical one may as well already end with your neck stuck on his blade.

Carefully, you stepped into the circle, surrounded by men. The sword on your hip, called Craven, was a gift from your Uncle. He had given it to you the first time you truly beat him in combat, without him letting you win. Craven served as a reminder that you truly were one of the best, possibly even better than Aemond.

...

All you could remember was the bell ringing, then swords clashing. The irritating sound of metal going against metal, and the slight puffs of breath coming from your mouth. You could remember Aemond taking a bold strike at you, and it connected, landing square on the shoulder of your armour, but not before your sword sliced the front of Aemonds legs. The both of you hit the ground, facing each other. He, having cut through your armour and tunic, had left both your right collarbone and breast out to the open. You, having sliced the skin of his thighs, merely left a flesh wound that would not be near as painful as the embarassment you were to suffer once your helmet was removed and your identity was revealed.

You were correct. As soon as Ser Criston covered your breast and removed your helmet, and your braids fell down along your shoulders, the look you recieved from Aemond made you wish he had cut your throat instead. He was glaring at you, and even though a large cut went across both of his thighs, he still managed to stand. He trudged his was over to you and Criston, shoving him out of the way. He grabbed the braids that hung down, and began pulling. He pulled you by your hair all the way from the middle of the yard to the steps, where only then did he stand you to your feet, and take an even harsher grasp on your bicep.

...

Aemond forced open the door to his chambers, shoving you inside. your hands a knees hit the floor, and you could hear the door shut behind you. Not daring to turn around, you soon again felt Aemonds hands run through you hair, before harshly pulling, bringing the back of your head up to his waistline. The pommel of his sword was poking the back of your head, and that along with the rough grip he had on your head made you quite light headed.

"Tell me dear Aunt, in what world you thought fighting me would end up pleasantly for either of us?", he sneered at you. Jerking your head again when you didn't answer fast enough, he yelled,

"Tell me!"

"N-Nephew, I tell you to get a grip on yourself before I get one for you.", You said, silently begging of him to let go of your hair.

"Oh y/n, I want you to get a grip on me," his voice rumbled.

Before you had the opportunity to decipher his words, he explained them with his actions. He released your hair, then hoisting you up by your shoulders. His mouth roughly pressed against yours, and even when struggling with all your might you couldn't seem to get away. His hands moved from crushing your arms to framing your jaw. He held onto your face, and even as you pulled away, he just kept coming back.

Soon enough, you gave in. The fighting was useless, and it wasn't as if you weren't enjoying what was happening. Aemond was the handsomer of your two nephews, and he was the one you had always been curious about. Who knew that the reason he didn't want to speak with you is because everytime he saw yours eyes, his cock swelled in his pants.

By this time, he had led you over to his massive bed, and you could feel the edge of the fine blanket touching your legs. You were briefly able to pull away and look him in the eye, only to notice that his eyepatch had come off. In its place was the most beautiful sapphire jewel you had ever seen. You ran your fingers over his eye and scar, before he caught your wrist with his long fingers.

"If you truly wish to not do this, tell me and it will all be forgotten. I am not my savage brother, I would not force this on you.", Aemond spoke.

You were too focused on his jewel to even hear his words. You could feel the heat in your belly grow almost as fast as the moisture between your legs. You kissed Aemonds mouth, and then moved to his ear,

"Feel my pussy and see how bad I wish to do this.", Your voice whispered, and somehow it managed to not crack.

Aemond backed his face away from yours, a look of shock running across it. He saw your seriousness, and dove back in towards your lips. He pulled the damaged armour from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. The took the fabric of your tunic in his hands, and ripped it in half, all the while keeping his lips firmly attatched to yours. His hands explored your body, feeling the swells of your breasts against his palms, and the hardness of your nipples rolling beneath his fingertips. He trailed his mouth down the side of your neck, leaving hot breaths and kisses in its path. He reached your collarbone, where the slightest bit of blood was falling from the scrape his sword had made. He licked the blood clean with his tongue, and contiuned his journey downwards. His mouth met your nipples, harshly suckling and pulling at them with his teeth. A breathy moan came from your mouth, and he kept sucking in hopes of getting to hear it again. He moved to the other side, leaving bites and bruises scattered across your chest, each one eliciting a sweet, sweet sound from your mouth.

He dropped to his knees, and with his hands on your hips, pushed you on to the bed. He grabbed your thighs and pulled the towards him, letting them rest over his shoulders. He licked and kissed up the inner parts of both of your thighs, and stopped for a brief moment when he noticed your death grip on his sheets.

"y/n, has a man never touched you before? I assumed since you were older and related to my whore of a step-sister you must have joined her on her explotative journeys," Aemond spoke, still softly kissing the inside of your thighs.

You sat up, and without thinking, slapped Aemond clear across the face. No one should talk about Rhaenyra that way, but that thought was immedieatly followed by 'no one should ever slap the prince either'.

Aemond kept his face stoic, before he turned his head back to you and shoved you back down by your shoulders. He feasted on your cunt like a starved wildling, licking, sucking and biting his way around your area. You could already feel a bubble start to build in your stomach, and soon you were a withering, moaning mess. You pulled at the white strands of Aemonds hair that you could reach, and he seemed okay with that. He kept devouring you, until finally you screamed his name. Just as the last syllable of his name dropped from your mouth, and just a millisecond before you were about to cum on his face, he stopped. He drew back, and just stood, staring at you. He slowly leaned over your body, and whispered,

"Don't you ever fucking hit me again, are we clear y/n?"

"Yes," You responded breathily, still on intense edge from your denied pleasure.

"Yes, what?" Aemond spoke, softly tracing his fingers over your facial features.

"Yes, my Prince." You whispered.

One of Aemonds hands went to your throat, and the other hoisted your legs around his hips. He lined his throbbing cock at your enterance, and without any warning, thrusted his hips all the way in.

"Sorry Princess, it's easier just to get the pain over with." He spoke, as you writhed underneath him and moaned out in pain.

Soon after, the pain turned to slight pleasure, and his fullness felt welcoming. You finally gave the word to move, and he did. His thrust started slow, allowing you to fully stretch to accomidate him. He sped up, only at your request, more like only at your begging. You clawed your nails on his back, as he continued to ram into you. His pressure on your throat was rough, but tolerable. You drifted between seeing him clearly and the corners of your vision fogging up, and you realized he had done this to someone else before, that he truly knew what he was doing. A slight pang of jealousy hit you, but the hits of his hips against your pelvis soon made that fade away.

He stopped once again, as you were about to reach your climax, for a second time. This time though, was not from cruelty, but rather from his desire to see himself fucking you from behind. He instruced you to flip over, and get on your knees, with your hands behind your back. With one hand, he grabbed your joined wrist, and with the other hand, he placed a harsh smack on your ass cheek.

"See, it's not fun when people hit us is it?", He scolded. You felt like a child despite being 15 years his senior.

He stopped talking, and once again began running himself off into your pussy. He reached around your hips and his fingers found your clit, and he toyed with it for a while until he found himself pumping his load inside of you.

He withdrew his cock, and rolled you over. You closed your eyes and waited patiently for him to begin again, only to open them a few seconds later to find Aemond across the room, putting bandages on his legs, and then putting on his trousers.

"Excuse me?", You spoke, and Aemond turned around to face you with a strange look in his eye.

"Yes, my Princess?" He said, still more focused on buttoning his pants than on you.

"I didn't cum, why did you stop?" You asked, hoping it was a misunderstanding.

"I know you didn't. I stopped because first you fought me when I have made it known you should not be able to fight, and second, you slapped me. Why would I let you finish on my cock after you have been so bad?" He spoke, the words of his calculated response flowing out perfectly.

He had never intended on you getting a climax, only himself, you were just the vessel he chose to get there.

"But, maybe if you act good we can do this again and I'll give you a more pleasant experience." He spoke again, this time finishing buttoning his shirt.

Aemond stood by the door, scribbling on a small piece of paper before he looked at you, and then exited the room. You stood, made your way over to the paper and read:

Princess,

Come back again tonight and I promise it will be more fun.

- Your Prince, A.T.