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A Heartbeat Between Us.
Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V, Chapter VI
Chapter VII, Chapter VIII, Chapter IX, Chapter X, Epilogue
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond#aemond smut#aemond x reader#aegon ii targaryen#daeron targaryen#alys rivers#kcktfics
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Scorched Hearts.
Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V, Chapter VI, Chapter VII, Chapter VIII, Chapter IX, Chapter X, Chapter XI, Chapter XII, Chapter XIII, Chapter XIV, Chapter XV, Chapter XVI, Chapter XVII, Chapter XVIII, Chapter XIX, CHapter XX, Chapter XXI, Chapter XXII.
Special Chapters: Younger I & Younger II
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x oc#aemond#prince aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond targaryen#house of the dragon aemond#kcktfics
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Demon In My Dreams II
Summary:
'Sleep those little slices of death, how I loathe them' - Edgar Allen Poe
Despites his best efforts, Aemond is still tormented by the horrors of a future that will never come to pass.
Warning(s): Language, Haunting, Torment, Dream Invasion, Horror, Referenced Character Deaths, Unce/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Remorse, Regret, Strangulation, Child Birth.
AEMOND x O.C NIECE
INSPIRED BY THE SONG - 'MOTIONLESS IN WHITE - THE DEMON IN YOUR DREAMS'
Word Count: - 7939
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9
"Otto plans to usurp the Iron Throne and have Aegon crowned as King," Aemond declared, his voice firm but tinged with desperation.
Daemon's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He drew his sword, Dark Sister, and held the tip against Aemond's throat. "Why should we believe that you would betray your grandsire?" he asked, his tone cold and threatening.
Aemond glanced down at the sword and then looked pleadingly at Rhaenyra. "Please, listen to me. My grandsire will claim that crowning Aegon will prevent a war, but it will only serve to start one. The realm will be divided, and many will die-"
He looked over at Lucaera, then back to Rhaenyra, his expression earnest and full of sorrow. "You will lose both of your daughters," he said, gesturing to Rhaenyra's pregnant belly, "-then Jacaerys and Viserys will die in a battle against the Triarchy in the Gullet."
Rhaenyra gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she fell towards Daemon, her hands gripping his tunic.
“M-My babies-” whimpered Rhaenyra.
Daemon's grip on his sword tightened, as he pressed the sharp point further into Aemond’s throat, causing a small rivulet of blood to run down his throat.
“You do realise what will happen to your cunt of a grandsire if your words prove true?” asked Daemon.
“Yes-I do, all I ask is that my mother, siblings and the children be spared, they had no knowledge of such plots” replied Aemond.
"Swear to me that you speak the truth” demanded Rhaenyra.
"I swear on our ancestors that I’m telling you the truth. I know it sounds unbelievable, but if nobody had believed Daenys the Dreamer, then House Targaryen wouldn't have survived the Doom”
Rhaenyra looked towards Daemon who’s eyes searched Aemond's face for any sign of deceit. After a tense moment, he slowly lowered Dark Sister, but his expression remained wary. "If you're lying, I'll kill you myself."
Aemond took a deep breath, his relief palpable but tempered by the gravity of the situation. "I understand. But I am telling the truth. We must act quickly to prevent the bloodshed that my grandsire's plan will cause."
Rhaenyra straightened, her resolve hardening as she wiped away her tears. "What do you propose we do?"
Aemond met her gaze, determination shining in his eye. "I seek your permission to marry Lucaera. It will unite our families, as my father wished."
Daemon raised an eyebrow, his scepticism still evident as he leaned on his sword "-And it has nothing at all to do with Lucaera being the heir to Driftmark?-as a mere second son with nothing of his own to inherit, becoming Consort Lord is quite the bounty"
Aemond shook his head, his voice steady. "No. I don't care about that. I care about her, and I believe our union will bring strength and peace to our family"
Daemon scoffed, his scepticism turning to open derision. "You care about her? Didn't seem like you cared about her when you were making your little toast. Tell me, nephew, what could have happened between then and now-for you to change your opinion so quickly?"
Aemond looked at Lucaera, who stepped forward, her face resolute. "He came to my chambers, and we laid together” she declared, her voice steady.
A few seconds of silence followed her confession before Daemon burst into laughter. "Years of ire all forgotten because you got your cock wet?" he taunted.
Rhaenyra elbowed Daemon sharply in the ribs, cutting off his laughter. She turned to Aemond, her expression serious. "Are your intentions towards my daughter true, Aemond? You claim to care about her, but Lucaera is, after all, the one who cut out your eye."
Aemond took a deep breath, meeting Rhaenyra's gaze. "What I saw was enough to make me realize that holding on to my anger would only cause more pain and suffering-my intentions towards Lucy are true-”
Rhaenyra's eyes softened as she looked between her daughter and Aemond. "Lucaera, is this what you want?"
Lucaera stepped forward, her hand finding Aemond's. "Yes. I-I care for him also and I wish to marry him."
“What do think Daemon?” asked Rhaenyra, her hand slowly running over her round stomach.
Daemon studied them both for a long moment, his eyes searching Aemond's face for any hint of deceit.
Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "Very well. But know this, Aemond: if you betray her, then there will be no place in this realm that you can hide from me."
Aemond met Daemon's gaze without flinching. "I understand, and I swear that I will never betray Lucaera”.
After many hours of discussion with Rhaenyra and Daemon, Aemond and Lucaera finally made it back to his chambers. He was exhausted, yet sleep eluded him, his mind still racing.
He had just given Daemon the names of all those planning to repudiate the succession, and after informing Rhaenyra that tonight was the night their father would die, she had rushed off to be with him.
Lucaera had offered to go with her, but Aemond had refused to let go of her hand, almost as if he was making sure she was truly there and not some figment of his imagination.
Even now, as the two of them lay in bed, Aemond had coiled himself around her, his hand resting on her stomach. The feel of her warm body next to his was a comfort, a reminder that this was real, that she was here with him.
Lucaera turned her head slightly to look at him, her eyes soft and concerned. "Aemond," she whispered, "You need to rest. You’ve done all you can for now."
Aemond shook his head, his grip tightening around her. "I can't sleep, Lucaera. My mind-it won't stop, I worry that all of this is some cruel jest and once I wake up then I will have lost you”
"You won't," she promised, her voice steady and reassuring. "I'm here with you, and I’m not going anywhere."
For a long time, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Aemond's thoughts were a whirlwind, but the feel of Lucaera in his arms, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, began to ground him.
Eventually, his eyelid grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. He tightened his hold on Lucaera one last time before sleep finally claimed him,
Aemond stood on the beach, the skies above illuminated by flashes of lightning, Storm's End a dark silhouette in the distance. The wind whipped around him, carrying the salty tang of the sea.
His eye scanned the shoreline until it fell upon a figure lying face down in the sand. Panic surged through him as he instantly knew who it was.
He sprinted towards Lucaera, his heart pounding in his chest. Kneeling down, he rolled her over and screamed in horror.
Her appearance was grotesque—torn skin, missing limbs, maggots crawling through open wounds. The stench of decay hit him like a physical blow, and he retched, vomiting into the sand beside her.
Suddenly, Lucaera's rotten hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength.
Aemond tried to pull away, but her grip was unyielding. He screamed again, louder, his voice mingling with the howling wind. As her fingers tightened, he felt the world around him shift and blur.
Aemond lurched awake, his heart racing and sweat pouring down his face. He was back in his chambers at the Red Keep, the familiar surroundings slowly coming into focus.
Lucaera lay next to him, peacefully asleep, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He sat up, holding his head in his hands, but he couldn't stop shaking. The vivid nightmare clung to him, refusing to fade.
He glanced over at Lucaera, reassuring himself that she was whole and unharmed. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to steady himself. The feel of her rotten, decaying hand still haunted him, the image of her mangled body seared into his mind.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the horrific vision to leave him, but it lingered, like a dark shadow on the edge of his consciousness.
Unable to bear it any longer, he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. He paced the room, running a trembling hand through his hair. The silence of the night offered no comfort, only amplifying the echoes of his nightmare.
The Red Keep was on lockdown, the tension palpable in the air as guards stood at every entrance, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.
Inside the Great Hall, the assembled crowd murmured with curiosity and unease. At the foot of the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra stood solemnly, her expression stern as she gazed out at those in attendance.
Alicent, Aegon, and Helaena stood to one side, their faces drawn with worry. Aemond stood with Lucaera, his grip on her hand firm and reassuring. Jace, Baela, Rhaena, Daemon, and Rhaenys were also present, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.
As the whispers began to quiet down, Rhaenyra stepped forward. Her voice was clear and steady as she announced, "It is my duty to inform you of the sad news that last night, King Viserys, passed away"
A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd, the weight of her words sinking in. Rhaenyra allowed a moment for the news to settle before she continued, her tone growing firmer.
"There has been a treasonous plot to repudiate the rightful succession and have Aegon crowned instead of me."
Angry shouts erupted from the crowd, voices rising in indignation.
"Treason!"
"Theft!"
Rhaenyra raised a hand, quieting them. "The main conspirators—Otto Hightower, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong—have been confined to the black cells, where they await their punishment."
She turned to Alicent, her expression softening slightly. "I will grant mercy to you and your children. On my honour, no harm shall come to you. I only seek one thing in return."
Aemond took a step forward and nudged Aegon, who shuffled forward reluctantly. He stood in front of Rhaenyra and, after a moment's hesitation, dropped to one knee.
His voice was clear as he declared, "I have no desire to rule and no taste for duty. I recognize that Rhaenyra as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaenyra nodded, and Aegon quickly returned to stand next to Alicent, his relief evident.
Rhaenyra then turned to the assembly, a hint of a smile on her lips. "To unite our family in the wake of such treason, I am happy to announce the betrothal of my brother Aemond to my daughter Lucaera."
Jace’s face darkened at the news of his sister’s betrothal. His displeasure was evident in the tight line of his mouth and the furrow in his brow. Before he could voice his objections, Daemon shot him a warning glare, silencing him with a look that spoke volumes.
Rhaenyra continued, her voice unwavering. "The King's funeral will take place tomorrow. The day after, I will be crowned in the Dragon Pit. Where all the smallfolk can witness my coronation and see our family fully united, as my father wished."
The announcement was met with a murmur of approval from some and apprehension from others. The significance of the event was not lost on anyone; it was a moment to solidify the Targaryen legacy and ensure the realm's stability.
Rhaenyra’s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on Aemond and Lucaera, before moving to Jace. She gave him a slight nod, acknowledging his feelings but also affirming her decision.
Aemond stood tall beside Lucaera, his hand still holding hers. Despite the turmoil of the past, he felt a sense of resolve. He glanced at Lucaera, who gave him a reassuring smile.
Rhaenyra concluded, "In this time of mourning and transition, it is crucial that we stand together. Our father's dream of a united Targaryen family will not be in vain. Together, we will honour his legacy and lead the realm into a new era of peace and prosperity."
Aemond stood in the throne room of the Red Keep, his eyes fixed on the gruesome scene before him. His grandsire, Otto Hightower, and the others who had conspired against Rhaenyra were being executed for their treason.
Daemon wielded Dark Sister with cold efficiency, each swing of the blade bringing an end to a traitor's life.
Aemond's gaze drifted upward, jumping slightly as he caught sight of Lucaera standing across from him.
Her face was twisted and grotesque, strips of flesh hanging from her body like ghastly banners. He shook his head, trying to dispel the vision.
"It's just a dream, it's not real," he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, Lucaera was standing right in front of him. She seized his face in her hands, her grip like iron as she pulled him toward her.
Her breath was cold against his lips as she tried to kiss him. Aemond struggled to pull away, but her strength was overwhelming.
"What's the matter? Don't you think I'm pretty like this?" Lucaera mocked, her voice dripping with malice as she dug her nails into his face.
Aemond quickly lurched backwards, colliding with the wall. He blinked, and the vision was gone. Everyone was staring at him.
The hall was silent except for the thudding of his heart in his ears. Lucaera, whole and unblemished, looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.
Aemond nodded quickly, though his body was still shaking. He took Lucaera's hand, gripping it tightly as if she might vanish at any moment.
The rest of the executions continued, but Aemond's mind was elsewhere, trapped between the nightmare and reality.
Aemond lay in bed, his face pressed gently against Lucaera's stomach, listening to the soft rise and fall of her breath as she slept. His voice barely a whisper, he murmured, "Are you in there?" and then, more softly, "My son-my boy"
Careful not to wake her, he continued in a hushed tone, "No matter what, you will know you are wanted, and you will know that I love you. I know that I'm not going to be a perfect father, but I will try my best." Aemond placed a tender kiss on Lucaera's stomach, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away.
Silently, he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Lucaera's peaceful slumber. He moved with practiced quiet, pulling on his tunic and breeches. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows, casting gentle shadows on the walls.
He couldn't sleep. His mind was too restless, filled with his fears over his nightmares. Needing to clear his head, he decided to head to the library.
The Red Keep was silent at this hour, the halls empty save for the occasional guard on patrol. Aemond made his way to the library, the familiar scent of old parchment and leather-bound books greeting him as he entered.
Aemond wandered through the aisles, his fingers trailing along the spines of books until he found one that caught his eye.
He settled into a chair by the window, the book resting in his lap, but his mind wandered back to Lucaera and their potential child.
He hoped that they would find out soon, that maybe it would shine some light in the darkness that had settled around him.
-
Aemond opened his eye and groaned, running his hands over his face. He was still in the library, slumped over a desk with a half-read book before him.
He must have fallen asleep. He closed the book, intending to return it to its shelf when he heard a hauntingly familiar voice singing sweetly.
“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis” (Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing).
“Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan” (With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing).
“Hae mērot gierūli:, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī” (As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely).
Aemond's breath caught in his throat as he moved around the bookcases, drawn to the eerie melody. He rounded a corner and saw a figure sitting in one of the chairs. He moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest, and then he saw Lucaera.
She was sitting serenely, something cradled in her lap. Aemond approached, a sense of dread washing over him. As he drew nearer, he gasped in horror when he saw what she was holding.
It was Jaehaerys, and she was sewing his head back on.
"Finally come to look upon the consequences of your actions, uncle?" Lucaera's voice was cold, cutting through him.
Aemond shook his head, trying to dispel the vision before him.
"Not that you accept responsibility, of course—it's always somebody else's fault."
He tried to leave, but his feet were rooted to the spot. Lucaera slowly stood up, pressing the boy into Aemond’s arms.
He looked down at the body of his nephew and jumped when his eyes suddenly opened.
"Apologize for the bad stitching, but then I've never really been one for sewing," said Lucaera, her tone mocking. "Haven't got the fingers for it," she added, holding up her hands.
Aemond audibly grimaced as he noticed that some of her fingers were missing, torn of at the knuckle.
"I'm sorry, I’m so sorry" Aemond kept repeating, his voice a desperate plea.
But Lucaera didn't listen. As she walked toward him, her limbs began twisting and contorting, her flesh peeling away.
Aemond lurched awake, a strangled cry escaping his lips. He was slumped over a desk in the library, drenched in sweat. He didn't bother putting the book away; he simply turned and fled.
The Sept was a vision of grandeur, filled with lords and ladies adorned in their finest attire, their faces glowing in the light of countless candles.
At the altar, the High Septon stood with a solemn air, ready to conduct the sacred ceremony that would unite two powerful houses.
Aemond, resplendent in his red and black attire, stood tall and proud. His single eye was fixed on Lucaera, who approached him with a grace that took his breath away.
She wore a gown of shimmering white lace, her long hair cascading in dark waves over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and love.
The ceremony commenced with the High Septon intoning ancient words, calling upon the Seven to bless their union.
When it came time for Aemond to drape his cloak over Lucaera’s shoulders, signifying her joining his house, she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I’m with child.”
Aemond’s eye widened in surprise, and then a joyous laugh escaped his lips. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, causing a few titters of amusement to ripple through the gathered guests.
The High Septon cleared his throat, a slight smile playing at his lips, “We haven’t got to that part yet.”
Blushing slightly, Aemond and Lucaera pulled back, but their hands remained intertwined, their eyes locked on each other.
The ceremony continued with the High Septon binding their joined hands with a ribbon of gold and silver, symbolizing their unity.
“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” the High Septon proclaimed.
He then declared, “Let it be known that Aemond of House Targaryen and Lucaera of House Velaryon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”
In unison, Aemond and Lucaera recited, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger-” Their voices were steady and filled with conviction.
Aemond continued, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”
Lucaera followed, her voice soft yet firm, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”
Finally, Aemond declared, “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” and leaned in to seal their vows with a kiss.
As their lips met, a cheer erupted from the gathered crowd, and the Great Sept was filled with the sound of applause and joyous exclamations. The kiss lingered, full of promise and devotion, and when they finally parted, both were beaming.
Hand in hand, they turned to face their family and friends, united in love and purpose, ready to face whatever the future held together.
The throne room of the Red Keep had been transformed into a vision of splendour for the wedding celebration.
Banners of black and red intertwined with the silver and sea blue of House Velaryon, symbolizing the union of the two families.
Queen Rhaenyra, resplendent in her royal attire, presided over the event with a serene smile, determined to show the realm that her family was united at last.
Helaena, radiant and cheerful, sat at a table talking animatedly with Baela and Rhaena. The three young women shared laughter and stories, their camaraderie adding a light-heartedness to the atmosphere.
Aegon, as expected, was well into his cups, his cheeks flushed with wine as he made merry with a few of the other lords. Jace and Daeron, sat together, exchanging jests and laughter, the beginnings of a new bond of friendship.
At the high table, Alicent sat next to Rhaenyra, her demeanour slightly tense but making a genuine effort to engage in conversation.
Rhaenyra, in turn, responded warmly, trying to ease her old friends nerves. Daemon, ever vigilant, sat nearby with his hand casually resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, his eyes constantly scanning the room for any signs of trouble.
At the centre of it all were the newlyweds, Aemond and Lucaera. They sat close together, leaning into one another and whispering words of love, their eyes reflecting a happiness that had long eluded them.
They shared secret smiles and gentle touches, oblivious to the noise and bustle around them.
As the evening wore on, the call for the bedding ceremony was made. Aegon, suddenly more animated, began to make crude suggestions, but one fierce look and a whispered threat of murder from Aemond was enough to silence him.
Lucaera and Aemond exchanged amused glances and managed to slip away amidst the laughter and cheers, leaving the revelry behind.
Inside their chambers, the atmosphere shifted to one of intimacy and tenderness. Lucaera leapt into Aemond’s arms, her kisses raining down on his face as she giggled with joy.
Aemond’s laughter joined hers as they tumbled onto the bed, their limbs entwined in a playful embrace.
“I love you,” Lucaera whispered between kisses, her hands cupping his face.
Aemond smiled, his eye softening as he gazed at her. “And I love you”
Aemond traced his nose gently along Lucaera's stomach, his breath warm against her skin.
"Rytsas issa byka zaldrīzes," he whispered tenderly, his voice filled with love and awe (Hello my little dragon).
Lucaera's fingers wove through Aemond's long silver hair, her touch light and affectionate. A soft smile played on her lips as she watched him, feeling a surge of warmth in her heart. Aemond began to press delicate kisses along her stomach, his lips brushing against her skin with reverence.
“Aemond” whispered Lucaera as he moved lower, his hot breath tickling her skin as he moved his head between her legs.
“Nyke jaelagon ao” whispered Aemond (I want you).
“Gūrogon issa” replied Lucaera her eyes rolling into the back of her head as his tongue swept across her slick wet folds (Take me).
Lucaera bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.
“Let me hear you”.
“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” begged Lucaera
Aemond pressed two fingers inside Lucaera, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake, his tongue moving against her folds, his lips wrapping around her pearl.
“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.
Lucaera arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.
Aemond crawled up Lucaera’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.
His hands gently cupping her breasts before he sucked one of the sensitive rosy buds into his mouth, his tongue rolling around the stiffened peak.
“I can’t wait to see these filled with milk-” groaned Aemond as he pressed his face in between her breasts.
“F-For our babe” muttered Lucaera as she felt Aemond’s cock against her.
“Surely you won’t deny me a taste of your mother’s milk issa jorrāelagon” replied Aemond as he reached down to take his hard cock in his hand, running the tip through her wet folds (My love).
“P-Please valzȳrys” begged Lucaera (Husband).
Aemond smiled as he slowly sheathed himself inside her, until his hips came to rest against hers.
“You feel so good-” moaned Aemond as hestarted to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife’s warm wet walls clenching around his cock.
"Faster, Aemond" begged Lucaera.
"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Lucaera’ neck (My sweet).
“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Lucaera as he withdrew almost all of the way before slamming back in.
Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse her nails digging into his skin.
“Gods, Lucaera" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.
"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me. I-I want it-I want you”.
Aemond groaned loudly, his pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips.
Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the wooden headboard banging loudly against the wall.
Aemond lifted Lucaera’ legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.
Lucaera folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.
“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Lucaera.
“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.
Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.
Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Lucaera’ legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.
“P-Please Aemond” whispered Lucaera, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.
"Gevie" growled Aemond as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of her arse cheek (Beautiful).
"AEMOND" screeched Lucaera, her finger digging into the sheets.
"Fuck-one day I want to take you here, if you let me" moaned Aemond as he slid a finger over her pucked hole.
"Yessss-I'll let you" wailed Lucaera.
"I want to possess every inch of you" muttered Aemond as he took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside Lucaera once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.
"Oohhh A-Aemond. Qȳbor" whimpered Lucaera (Uncle).
“Fuck” groaned Aemond.
“God. Yes” moaned Lucaera.
He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.
Lucaera took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it towards her head.
Knowing what she wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching. His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.
Aemond then grasped both of Lucaera’ arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.
Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.
“Yes. Lucaera-that’s it-that's it-take it, fucking take it” moaned Aemond.
He took hold of Lucaera’s hair, twisting his fingers into the messy dark curls before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.
Aemond held Lucaera tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.
One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently, as he pounds into her.
“Give it to me please” pleaded Lucaera her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.
"That's it-that’s my good girl" whispered Aemond.
Lucaera turned her head to face his, her lips connecting with his in a messy, passionate kiss, their tongues sliding against one another.
Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Lucaera.
“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.
“-Aemond” exclaimed Lucaera breathlessly.
“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he pulled Lucaera on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.
“A-Aemond” muttered Lucaera as she began to roll her hips.
“You feel so good my beautiful wife-so full of me, my seed already taking root-” replied Aemond placing his hands on her hips and moving her up and down.
“Oh-” gasped Lucaera.
“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”
Lucaera dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.
“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaera as he sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.
“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.
“AEMOND” screamed Lucaera as she came around his cock.
Her husband threw her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.
“God. Lucaera” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled rope after rope of his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.
Aemond woke with a start sometime in the night. The room was dark and still, but he immediately sensed something was wrong.
He reached out, his hand trembling as it brushed against Lucaera's body. Her skin felt cold, unnaturally so. Panic surged through him as he took hold of her and rolled her over.
A scream of pure horror tore from his throat. Her face was a decayed, grotesque visage, eyes lifeless and skin peeling away. He scrambled off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor, his heart pounding wildly.
When he stood back up, the bed was empty, the linens undisturbed.
Breathing heavily, he looked around the room, his eyes wide with fear. He felt a presence behind him, cold and malevolent.
He turned slowly, dreading what he would see. Lucaera stood there, smiling at him, her rotten face inches from his own.
"Why do you keep tormenting me?" he pleaded, his voice breaking.
She didn't answer. Her smile widened, and her mouth opened, releasing a torrent of maggots that poured over him.
Aemond screamed again, thrashing as the creatures crawled over his skin.
He woke up with a jolt, his body drenched in sweat. Lucaera was instantly at his side, her eyes filled with concern as she held him.
"Aemond, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm.
He babbled incoherently, "She won't leave me alone. She keeps coming. What else must I do?"
"Shh, shh" Lucaera soothed, running her fingers through his hair. "It was just a bad dream"
Aemond clung to her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her neck. Her warmth and the sound of her steady heartbeat grounded him, slowly easing his panic.
"You're safe," she whispered, holding him tightly. "I'm here with you, always."
Aemond's breathing began to steady as he absorbed her words. He nodded against her neck, taking comfort in her presence, even as the remnants of the nightmare continued to haunt him.
In the months that followed, Lucaera's stomach swelled with their child, a visible sign of their union and the future that lay ahead.
Yet, despite the joy that should have accompanied this time, Aemond found himself increasingly on edge. The lack of sleep gnawed at his sanity, making him delirious.
The grotesque visage of Lucaera haunted him more than ever, appearing in the halls, at mealtimes, and even when he sought solace with Vhagar. There was no escape from the torment.
Desperation drove him to visit Harrenhal, seeking counsel from Alys.
Her cryptic advice that ‘he must endure, that he might see the truth but not yet feel the weight of it’, left him feeling more desolate and confused.
He returned to King's Landing with a heavy heart, unsure of how much longer he could cope. Sleepless nights wore him down, his performance in the training yard deteriorated, and he felt trapped in a relentless cycle of exhaustion.
Confiding in Lucaera was out of the question. She was with child, and he couldn't risk causing her any distress.
In his desperation, he turned to Aegon, seeking distraction in his brother's reckless company. But even that escape led to further turmoil when Aegon lured him to a brothel on the streets of Silk.
The visit was brief, as Aemond had left immediatley, but not brief enough.
As Lucaera found out and, in a fit of rage, she had banished him from their chambers for a week.
Aemond was left in despair, barely holding on until Lucaera agreed to hear him out.
Aegon confirmed his innocence, and he was allowed back into their bed, but the nightmares persisted, each one as terrifying as the last.
Lucaera was nearing the end of her pregnancy, and Aemond's struggle had reached a breaking point.
Confined to their chambers, he refused to see or speak to anyone else. Rhaenyra had suggested giving him dream wine to help him sleep, but Aemond had stubbornly refused.
One morning, as he sat in their chambers, having breakfast with Lucaera, the grotesque image of her suddenly appeared before him. His heart raced, and he flew from his chair, pressing his back against the wall.
"Leave me alone!" he raged, his voice raw with desperation.
Lucaera, rose from her seat, concern etched across her face. "Aemond, what's wrong?"
But Aemond wouldn't listen. He kept begging to be left alone, his mind clouded with terror. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, his panic erupted into violence.
He wrapped his hands around her throat, driven by the maddening hallucination.
"If you won't leave me alone, I'll make you," he roared, his grip tightening.
Lucaera struggled against him, gasping for breath. "Aemond, stop," she wheezed, her eyes wide with fear.
But all he saw was the grotesque visage, her skin falling away in clumps as his fingers dug into what he perceived as rotted flesh. He was determined to rid himself of this torment, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
Then, a small voice broke through the chaos. "Daddy."
Aemond looked up to see Aerion standing next to the bed, clutching a stuffed dragon teddy, his thumb in his mouth.
The sight of his son cut through the madness. The grotesque vision of Lucaera faded, and he realized his hands were wrapped around the throat of the real Lucaera.
"L-Lucy," Aemond sobbed, his eyes wide with horror.
Tears streamed down her red face. "Aemond, please," she wheezed, struggling for air.
He released her immediately, and she moved away, coughing and rubbing her throat.
Aemond collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He had almost killed her and their unborn child.
Lucaera, trembling and clutching her throat, watched Aemond writhe on the floor, overcome with guilt and despair. Her own tears mingled with his as she tried to comprehend the horror of what had just happened
Aemond was on his knees, trembling and pleading with Lucaera. "Kill me," he begged, his voice raw and desperate. "I can't take it anymore. I can't cope. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Please, Lucaera, kill me."
Lucaera wiped the tears from her face and moved toward him, her heart aching with love and sorrow.
She reached out, but Aemond flinched away, still begging for death. Before she could respond, a sudden twinge in her stomach made her gasp.
Warm, wet liquid ran down her leg. She rucked up the material of her dress, her eyes wide with realization. "The babe is coming," she whispered.
Summoning her strength, she called for one of the guards outside their chambers to alert the maesters and midwives.
Aemond sat in the corner, head buried in his hands, unable to process what was happening. The room became a flurry of activity as people rushed in and out.
His mother and Rhaenyra were there, holding Lucaera's hands as she wailed in agony. Aemond avoided their concerned gazes, his own mind clouded with despair.
Time lost all meaning as he sat there, disassociated from the chaos around him.
Lucaera's screams pierced his soul, but he remained frozen, unable to move. Then, through the haze, the sound of a baby's cry broke through, catching his attention.
"A boy, Princess," announced one of the midwives.
Aemond slowly levered himself off the ground, his legs unsteady as he made his way toward Lucaera.
She was red-faced and sweating, but her expression was one of pure joy as she cuddled their son against her chest.
She looked at Aemond, her eyes filled with love and understanding, and shakily held out the baby to him.
He took his son in his arms, the weight of the newborn feeling right, grounding him.
The baby opened his little amethyst eyes, and Aemond smiled, feeling a deep, unconditional love he had never known before.
Alicent asked what they would call the babe, and Lucaera said it was Aemond's choice.
"Aerion," Aemond said softly, his voice filled with emotion.
Suddenly, he looked up and saw the grotesque image of Lucaera staring at him from across the room.
But she was smiling, and as he watched, her appearance restored to normal. She spoke to him, her voice gentle. "You have finally felt the weight of your truth," she said before disappearing.
Lucaera, noticing the tear slipping down Aemond's cheek, asked softly, "Are you okay?"
Aemond nodded, holding their son close. "Yes," he whispered, his heart filled with a new resolve. "I will be”.
Aemond stood on the balcony of his chambers, looking out over King's Landing. The city's lights twinkled in the night, a stark contrast to the turmoil within his heart.
The cool breeze did little to calm his restless mind. He heard movement behind him and turned to see Lucaera approaching with Aerion in her arms.
"You're not going to jump, are you?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Aemond shook his head. "No," he replied, his voice steady but filled with sorrow.
"You've only just gone through your labours," he said, frowning. "You shouldn't be out of bed."
Lucaera shook her head. "I'm worried about you, Aemond. You could have killed me and Aerion today-"
"I-I'm sorry. These past few months I-I've been struggling to sleep because of the nightmares"
"You need to tell me when things are bothering you-I'm your wife, you can come to me with anything, but you really scared me today-" said Lucaera.
Aemond looked away, guilt heavy in his chest. "I understand if you inform Daemon," he said quietly, recalling his stepfather's threat. "He did say that if I ever hurt you, then he would deal with me."
Lucaera stepped closer, her expression resolute. "I won't tell anyone what you did. I do not wish for my stepfather to kill you, as we both know he would."
Aemond noticed the pain in her eyes and the way she winced slightly from the discomfort of giving birth.
His concern for her well-being took over, and he gently ushered her inside. He carefully placed Aerion in his cot, making sure the baby was secure before turning back to Lucaera.
"Come, you need to rest," he said softly, helping her climb into bed, making sure she was comfortable before he stripped off his own clothes and climbed in beside her.
Aemond turned to her, his eye heavy with exhaustion, he hesitantly reached for her, and she laid her head against his chest as his arm coiled around her and within moments, the sound of his soft snores filled the room.
Aemond woke up feeling groggy, his head heavy and eyes bleary. He instinctively ran his arm over Lucaera's side of the bed, but she wasn't there.
Panic shot through him as he sat up abruptly, scanning the room. His eyes landed on Aerion's cot, which was also empty. Heart pounding, he jumped out of bed and quickly pulled on his clothes.
He rushed to the door, yanking it open with such force it almost came off its hinges. Standing there, to his immense relief, were Lucaera and Aerion.
Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled them both into his arms, holding them tightly.
"Be careful," Lucaera said gently as Aerion started fussing.
Aemond loosened his grip slightly, taking Aerion into his arms and cradling his son close. He looked at Lucaera, his eyes wide with worry. "Where were you? I woke up and you were gone."
Lucaera gave him a reassuring smile. "I was having dinner with Helaena."
"Dinner?" Aemond echoed, confused.
Lucaera nodded. "You've been asleep for almost two days."
Aemond's eyes widened in shock. "T-Two days?"
"Yes," Lucaera replied softly, her concern evident. "You needed the rest. I'll arrange for you to bathe and have food brought. No doubt you're hungry."
Aemond nodded, too stunned to speak. The realization of how long he had been asleep left him momentarily speechless.
He clung to Aerion, feeling a profound sense of relief and gratitude. The torment of his waking nightmares fading as he held his son close.
As the weeks went by, Aemond found himself finally able to sleep through the entire night. The nightmares and horrific visions that had plagued him for so long seemed to have vanished, leaving him with a peace he hadn’t felt in months.
His only disturbances now came from his son, Aerion, when he was hungry or needed his soiled cloths changed. Rearing children was typically left to the mothers as Daemon so informed him after the safe arrival of his daughter Visenya.
But Aemond wanted to be involved with every aspect of it, much to everyone's surprise.
The once quiet and stoic persona that Aemond had carefully crafted over the years visibly melted away in the presence of his wife and son.
When he wasn't training with the sword, he could often be found walking around the Red Keep with Aerion in his arms, muttering about the histories of Old Valyria and the tomes of philosophy that he often read, he even took Aerion to meet Vhagar, his old girl intrigued by the tiny human that her rider presented to her.
The sight of the once formidable Aemond, a fierce swordsman and a dragon rider, tenderly carrying his infant son and speaking to him in soft tones was a source of wonder for those who saw it.
His bond with Lucaera grew even stronger during this time. They spent countless hours together, and Aemond never wanted to be parted from her for longer than necessary. Their love was palpable, and it was evident to everyone around them.
He would often indulge in the pleasures of laying with his wife, whispering words of love and gratitude as he sheathed himself inside of her.
Every night he would take her, sometimes more than once, even through the day if he found her walking through the halls, he would spirit her away and have her pressed against a stone wall in a hidden alcove or bent over a desk in an empty room.
The change in Aemond since Aerion’s birth was clear for all to see. His fierce and guarded exterior had softened, revealing a devoted husband and a loving father.
The nightmares of the past were replaced by the warmth and joy of his new family. He found solace in the routine of caring for his son and the unwavering love he shared with Lucaera.
Even those who had known him for years were amazed by the transformation. Aemond, the once brooding and enigmatic prince, was now a man whose greatest joy came from his family.
He had found his purpose and his peace, and it was reflected in every aspect of his life. The Red Keep, once filled with shadows and whispers of treachery, now echoed with the sounds of Aerion’s laughter and Aemond’s gentle murmurings.
The realm had changed, and with it, Aemond had found a new beginning.
The sun was high in the sky over Driftmark, its golden light shimmering across the sand and sea. Aemond stood on the beach, his gaze watching Lucaera and their two year old son, happily digging for shells in the sand.
The waves lapped gently at the shore, and the peaceful scene seemed to embody the tranquility that had eluded Aemond for so long.
As he watched, a chill swept through him, and the air seemed to grow colder. The grotesque image of Lucaera appeared before him, her decayed flesh hanging from her bones, the stench of rot filling the air.
But he didn’t move, he stood firm as he noticed that her eyes were filled with a mournful sadness as she observed Aerion playing, a rotting hand hovering over her stomach.
The sight was both horrifying and heart-wrenching.
Aemond’s heart ached as he took a step closer. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry for what I did, for what I took from you.”
"Technically it was the alternate version of you, but I will accept your apology all the same"
"It shouldn't have happened-" replied Aemond.
"No, but it did, you claimed your debt and then you willingly gave your life for your sin-" wheezed Lucaera.
"This is the last time I'll see you isn't it?" asked Aemond.
"Yes-unless of course you wish for me to continue terrorizing you"
"NO-" said Aemond quickly.
"Just as well, you were starting to bore me anyway" replied Lucaera.
"Hmmm"
“You know, I’ve always liked the name Rhaegar,” said Lucaera softly, her voice like a whisper on the wind. "Seems like it would be a good name for a King.”
“I’ll keep that in mind” replied Aemond.
She looked back at him one last time before turning toward the water. “Take care of your family, and don't fuck it up” she said, her tone both gentle and firm.
"I won't-I promise"
Aemond’s eye followed her as she waded into the water, her figure gradually disappearing beneath the waves. He stood frozen for a moment, the weight of what could have been pressing heavily on his shoulders.
“Daddy, come play!” Aerion’s voice cut through his reverie, full of innocent enthusiasm.
Aemond turned to see his son looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes. He cast one more glance out to sea, where the ghostly image of Lucaera had vanished, before walking towards Aerion and Lucaera.
As he approached, Lucaera looked up at him with concern.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry as he knelt down in the sand.
Aemond reached out and placed a hand on her swollen stomach, feeling the reassuring movements of their unborn child.
He smiled at her, his expression full of warmth and determination. “Everything is fine,”
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond x oc#aemond one eye#aemond x original female character#aemond#prince aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#kcktfics
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Sytilībagon.
Summary:
Aemond follows his neice to her chambers, determined to teach her a lesson.
Warnings: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Language,Kissing, Incest, Smut - (Oral Sex - F Recieving), P in V Sex, Multiple Positions, Multiple Orgasms.
Word Count: - 2174
Sytilībagon - Belong.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
ENEMIES TO LOVERS.
AEMOND X O.C LAELA
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
As Aemond strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing with purpose, he clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. His niece's laughter still rang in his ears, a mocking melody that stoked the flames of his anger.
How dare she? How dare she mock him, belittle him in front of the others?
He reached the door to her room, his hand trembling with restrained fury as he raised it to knock. But then, a darker idea crept into his mind. No, knocking would give her too much warning. He wanted her to feel the fear that gripped him, the same fear she had incited within him.
With a quiet, menacing resolve, he turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest.
The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, casting eerie shapes across the floor. Aemond's eyes narrowed as he spotted her sitting at the vanity, her back to him, unaware of his presence as she threaded her fingers through her thick dark locks.
He stepped into the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick rug, his breath coming in shallow, controlled bursts.
With each step closer to his niece, his resolve solidified.
Finally, he stood behind her, towering over her small frame, his shadow engulfing her.
She turned, startled by his sudden appearance, her laughter dying on her lips as she met his steely gaze.
"Aemond," stammered Laela, her voice trembling with apprehension. "What are you doing here?"
Aemond didn't respond. Instead, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder, his grip tight and unforgiving as he hauled her from the chair. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"You think it's funny to laugh at me, do you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "You think you can mock me and get away with it?"
Laela tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. She could feel the rage emanating from him, a dark energy that seemed to consume everything in its path.
But as her hand reached up to grasp his, Aemond was caught off guard by an unexpected sensation that rippled through him.
In that fleeting moment of contact, there was an undeniable spark of intense attraction that flickered to life.
Aemond's grip tightened, not out of hostility, but out of a newfound curiosity.
Her gaze met his, and for the first time, he noticed the depth in her amethyst eyes.
Caught in the intensity of the moment, Aemond found himself drawn to her, his usual defences crumbling.
He couldn't deny the pull he felt, the unspoken connection that seemed to bridge the gap between them. It was as if the gods were conspiring to bring them together, despite their differences.
As Aemond leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, uncertainty warring with desire.
But then, it was Laela who closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.
The kiss was tentative at first, a tentative exploration of uncharted territory.
Yet, as their lips met, a surge of desire coursed through Aemond, igniting a fire within him that he never knew existed. In that moment, all doubts faded into the background, eclipsed by the overwhelming rush of emotion.
Laela responded to his kiss with a soft gasp, her own hesitance melting away in the heat of the moment. Their embrace deepened, each movement fuelled by an undeniable passion that defied logic and reason.
As the intensity of their kiss lingered in the air, Aemond's mind raced with a flurry of desires he struggled to contain. With each heartbeat, the yearning to be closer to Laela intensified, overwhelming his senses with a primal urge he couldn't ignore.
Gazing into Laela's eyes, Aemond felt a fierce longing stirring within him, an ache that demanded to be sated. In that moment, the idea of being apart from her felt unbearable, as if a part of him would cease to exist once they were no longer entwined.
Driven by impulse and a hunger he couldn't quell, Aemond found himself silently contemplating the unthinkable – to take her to his bed. The thought both thrilled and terrified him, awakening a whirlwind of emotions he struggled to comprehend.
In the depths of his soul, Aemond knew that such an act would irrevocably change things between them. Yet, the allure of surrendering to their passion proved too potent to resist, tempting him to abandon all reason in favour of the primal instincts that pulsed through his veins.
“Let me have you” urged Aemond.
“-Yes” replied Laela desperately.
Unable to deny himself any longer, Aemond shoved her towards the bed.
Aemond hooked his arms around her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
Laela watched as Aemond spat on her cunny.
His singular eye quickly looking at her before he lowered his head and pressed into Laela’ core with his tongue.
Laela clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.
Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core, licking at her pearl with his tongue. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.
Laela ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.
“That’s it come for me baby-” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.
“AEMOND” screamed Laela arching off the bed as she peaked.
“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to Laela’ inner thighs.
“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Laela.
Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his niece.
Aemond moved up Laela’ body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the peaked rosy nipple.
“Oh-“ gasped Laela.
“-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized Laela’ lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (Mine).
Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Laela’ wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.
“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Laela desperately.
“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust.
He paused at her whimper of pain, pulling away slightly, and looking down to see the blood streaking his cock.
“A-Are you ok?” asked Aemond quietly.
Laela nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, the sharp pain she had felt when he had first entered her was now a dull ache, she could feel his cock throbbing inside her and it made her insides squirm.
“Y-You can move now” muttered Laela.
Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his niece squeezing his cock.
"Faster, Aemond" begged Laela.
"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Laela’ neck (My sweet).
“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Laela
Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse and gripped him - pressing him into her harder.
“Gods, Laela" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.
"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me. I-I want it-I want you”.
Aemond groaned loudly, he knew exactly what Laela doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.
His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his niece’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.
Aemond lifted Laela’ legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.
Laela folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.
“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Laela.
“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.
Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.
Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Laela’ legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.
“P-Please Aemond” whispered Laela, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.
Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside Laela once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.
“Fuck” groaned Aemond.
“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Laela.
He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.
Laela took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it towards her head.
Knowing what she wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching. His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.
Aemond then grasped both of Laela’ arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.
Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.
“Fuck. Laela-that’s it” moaned Aemond.
He took hold of Laela’ hair, twisting his fingers into the messy dark curls before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.
Aemond held Laela tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.
One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.
“Give it to me please” pleaded Laela her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.
Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Laela.
“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.
“-Aemond” exclaimed Laela breathlessly.
“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he pulled Laela on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.
“I-I don’t know how to-“ muttered Laela her cheeks tinged pink.
“Here-I’ll show you” replied Aemond placing his hands on her hips and moving her up and down.
“Oh-” gasped Laela as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.
“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”
Laela dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.
“A-Aemond” moaned Laela as he sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.
“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.
Laela’ thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach, if her uncle’s face had been sculpted by the gods themselves, then his cock had surely been given to him by the devil.
It was sin incarnate and Laela was ready to let it claim her fully, her uncle had possessed every fibre of her being and she revelled in it. Her mother would weep at her ruination and her brothers would claim she had been defiled, but all that mattered in that moment was Aemond.
“AEMOND” screamed Laela her vision going white as she came around his cock.
Her uncle threw her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.
“God. Laela” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his niece, breathing hard.
It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.
Meanwhile Laela was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.
Suddenly the realisation hit Aemond, he had just taken his nieces maidenhead, he had taken her to his bed and ruined her. What Lord would want her now?
No-she belonged to him. No other man would ever get to lay claim to her, he understood now more than ever, that he wanted her, he'd always wanted her and his hate was just a façade.
They were meant to be, and realm be damned he would see so.
There was only one way to ensure that she would belong to him forever.
“Marry me”
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#aemond x original female character#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond smut#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aemond#hotd smut#hotd#kcktfics
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Scorched Hearts - Younger II
Summary:
'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'
A glimpse into the past of Aemond and Valaena.
Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Mild Violence, Blood, Language, Secret Relationship, Uncle/Niece Incest, Shame, Self Loathing, Discussion of Brothel Visit, Kissing, Fingering, Coming in Pants, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, P in V.
AEMOND x O.C Niece
Word Count: 10080
A.N -
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx
The coming year had been long and trying for both Aemond and Valaena, but their letters had been a lifeline.
Each parchment carried their joys, struggles, and the quiet comfort of knowing they still had each other despite the distance.
Aemond had written of his determination to overcome the limitations imposed by the loss of his eye. He described the gruelling hours he spent training with Ser Criston, vowing to become the fiercest swordsman in the realm.
His studies proved a little more challenging; reading with one eye often led to debilitating headaches.
But Valaena had suggested a remedy—willow bark tea—and to his relief, it helped. He thanked her profusely in his letters.
In turn, Valaena shared news from Dragonstone. Her mother, Rhaenyra, had been overjoyed at the birth of her son, Aegon, though the choice of name had caused ripples of discontent.
Aemond wrote back, confirming that his mother, Alicent, saw it as an affront to her own son, Aegon.
Otto, Aemond said, was not shy in voicing his opinions on the matter, fuelling the already simmering tensions between their families.
Aemond confided in Valaena his fears for Helaena, who was now betrothed to Aegon. He worried for his sweet sister, knowing Aegon’s temperament was far from gentle.
He hated the idea of her being unhappy in her marriage, but his protests went unheard.
Then came the day Aemond made a bold suggestion: they should meet in person.
They were both older enough to fly their dragons on their own, and he proposed a spot near Wendwater.
Valaena had readily agreed, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again.
It had been over a year, and she missed him more than words could convey.
Convincing her mother, however, proved more challenging. Rhaenyra was reluctant to let her only daughter fly Silverwing alone.
But Valaena’s persistence and assurances eventually wore her down.
The day finally arrived. Strapped into Silverwing’s saddle, Valaena took a deep breath before giving her dragon the command to take flight.
At first, fear tugged at her, the vast expanse of the skies unnerving without the familiar presence of Syrax or Caraxes flying alongside her.
But as Silverwing’s powerful wings cut through the air, the bond between dragon and rider strengthened.
Valaena began to feel a sense of exhilaration, trusting Silverwing to guide her.
Eventually the Wendwater soon came into view, and her heart pounded as she spotted Vhagar—a hulking silhouette on the ground below.
Beside the ancient dragon stood a silver-haired figure.
It’s him.
Silverwing landed with a gentle thud, her scales glinting in the sunlight. Valaena unstrapped herself and slid down the dragon’s wing, her boots hitting the ground softly.
For a moment, she hesitated, taking in the sight of Aemond as he approached her.
He had changed. His hair was longer, and straighter cascading past his shoulders, he stood a little taller too, his frame lean and gangly.
Aemond tilted his head, noticing her hesitation, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Then he opened his arms.
Valaena’s feet moved before her mind could catch up, and she broke into a run, throwing herself into his embrace.
Her arms wrapped tightly around him, her fingers clutching the fabric of his cloak. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in—the faint scent of leather and something uniquely Aemond.
“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
His arms tightened around her, his hand cradling the back of her head. “I missed you too,” he replied softly, his voice thick with feeling.
For a moment, the world seemed to still. It was just the two of them, reunited at last, and neither wanted to let go.
Valaena stepped back slightly, taking in Aemond with a soft, admiring smile. “You’re getting so tall,” she said, a hint of playfulness in her voice.
Aemond grinned, his expression boyish for just a moment before he reached out and gently twirled a lock of her dark hair around his gloved hand.
“And you are-sīr gevie” he murmured, the Valyrian words rolling off his tongue smoothly (So beautiful).
The compliment made Valaena blush, a soft warmth spreading across her cheeks as she lowered her gaze for a moment.
Then she felt Aemond’s fingers slip into hers, his hand warm even through the glove.
Their gazes met, and for a long moment, the two of them simply stood there, basking in each other’s presence.
Behind them, Vhagar shifted, her massive form casting an even larger shadow over the clearing.
Valaena turned her head, taking in the dragon with wide eyes. “She truly is a wonder,” she breathed.
Aemond followed her gaze and smiled with quiet pride. “Would you like to meet her?”
At Valaena’s eager nod, he kept her hand in his and led her toward the ancient dragon.
Vhagar, sensing their approach, lowered her colossal head, exhaling a warm gust of air that rustled the grass.
Silverwing, however, grumbled protectively behind Valaena, her tail slamming into the ground in a clear warning.
“Lykirī, Silverwing,” Valaena said firmly, turning to her dragon. Silverwing reluctantly backed down but kept her sharp gaze trained on Vhagar, her nostrils flaring (Be calm).
Aemond chuckled softly. “I thought she was said to be the gentlest of all the dragons?”
Valaena laughed, a bright sound that seemed to cut through the tension. “I guess when it comes to protecting her rider, things can change.”
Turning back to Vhagar, Aemond placed a hand gently on the dragon’s massive snout and said “Sagon sȳz uēpa riña-” (Be nice, old girl).
The old dragon huffed, blowing a gust of hot air over both of them. Aemond took Valaena’s hand and placed it on Vhagar’s snout.
The ancient dragon cooed softly before nudging Valaena backward, almost playfully.
Aemond laughed. “I think that’s her way of saying she likes you.”
Valaena smiled, her fingers grazing over Vhagar’s warm scales. “Good to know,” she said, before turning to Silverwing. “Now, do you wish to meet her?”
He nodded, following her toward the sleek silver-scaled dragon. Silverwing trilled affectionately, bowing her head toward Aemond.
Behind him, Vhagar began to lumber after her rider, the ground trembling beneath her weight.
Aemond raised a hand without turning. "Iksan sȳz-" he said calmly, and Vhagar halted with a deep, grumbling huff (I’m fine).
"She’s quite protective," Valaena remarked with a soft laugh.
"For obvious reasons," Aemond replied, his fingers briefly grazing the edge of his eyepatch.
Valaena’s expression grew serious. "I’m sorry for what happened," she said softly. "You didn’t deserve it."
Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he gave a small nod. "It’s not your fault," he said, his voice quieter than before. "But I appreciate your apology."
Silverwing nudged Valaena gently, rumbling sweetly as if sensing the shift in mood. Valaena turned back to her dragon with a fond smile. "And this, of course, is Silverwing."
Aemond reached out, his hand brushing over the smooth, glimmering scales of the dragon’s snout.
"She’s beautiful," he murmured, his voice tinged with admiration.
Silverwing cooed in response, her large, intelligent eyes watching Aemond with curiosity.
After a few moments, Aemond once again took her hand. "We did it," he said, his voice filled with quiet pride. "We finally have our dragons."
"We do," Valaena agreed, her smile wide and genuine.
"Come," Aemond said, guiding her toward the soft sand. "Let’s sit. I’m sure there are things we can talk about that couldn’t be put into our letters."
Valaena eagerly nodded, sitting beside him. Her heart skipped a beat when his arm settled around her shoulders, a warm, steady presence.
Blushing, she leaned ever so slightly into his side, contentment washing over her.
For the first time in what felt like forever, all was right in their world.
Over the following months, Aemond and Valaena met as often as they could, always at the same secluded spot near Wendwater.
Their weekly meetings became their sanctuary—a brief escape from their families.
Though they continued to exchange letters, the frequency dwindled, as their time together now provided the comfort and joy that the written word could never fully convey.
Their days were filled with laughter and light-hearted challenges, like racing through the clouds on the backs of their dragons, Silverwing and Vhagar.
They soared through the skies, their laughter ringing out as they pushed each other to go faster, higher.
Between their races, they discovered a small, abandoned cabin nestled among the trees.
Though the structure was weathered and in need of repair, it quickly became their refuge, a place affectionately referred to as “our place.”
It was theirs alone, untouched by the world beyond.
But then one day, Aemond didn’t come.
Valaena waited for hours on the familiar beach, her heart sinking with each passing moment.
When the sun began to dip below the horizon, she returned to Dragonstone, her mind plagued with worry.
For days after she wrote letter after letter, desperate to hear from him, but none of them received a reply.
What if they had been discovered? Had Aemond been forbidden from seeing her? Or worse—had he been injured?
As the weeks stretched into nearly two months of silence, darker fears crept in.
What if Aemond had decided he no longer wanted to see her?
The thought shattered her heart, leaving a gaping void where their bond had once thrived.
Eventually, she accepted what felt like the inevitable: Aemond didn’t want her anymore.
But before giving up completely, she penned one final letter—a desperate plea for him to meet her at their place one last time, even if it was to say goodbye.
Dressed in her riding leathers, Valaena took to the skies on Silverwing. The dragon sensed her rider’s anguish, cooing and trilling softly throughout the flight in an attempt to console her.
When they reached the beach, Silverwing stayed close, her presence a source of quiet comfort as Valaena waited.
Hours passed, and the sky darkened with the approach of evening.
Tears streaked Valaena’s cheeks as she stared at the empty horizon.
Finally, she turned to mount Silverwing, resigned to the truth that Aemond wasn’t coming.
Then a mighty roar echoed through the air.
Valaena’s head snapped up, her heart pounding as Vhagar descended through the clouds. The ancient dragon circled once before landing with a ground-shaking thud.
Aemond climbed down the rope ladder, his movements deliberate. When his boots hit the sand, he turned to face her, his expression solemn.
"You haven’t been responding to my letters," Valaena said, her voice trembling. "Or coming to our place."
"No," Aemond replied flatly, his tone detached, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.
"Have I done something to upset you?" she asked, her voice breaking. "If I have, then I’m sorry, and—"
"It’s not you," Aemond interrupted, his voice strained. "It’s me."
Confusion flashed across her face. "What do you mean?"
Aemond took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think it’s for the best that we don’t see each other anymore."
The words hit her like a blow. "W-what? Why?"
"We’ve been fools," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To think we could carry on our—friendship."
"Has something happened?" she pressed, stepping closer. "Has your mother or grandsire discovered—"
"No," Aemond cut her off sharply. "We have not been discovered."
"Then why?" Valaena asked, her voice rising with desperation.
A long silence hung between them, broken only by the distant sound of the waves.
Finally, Aemond spoke, his voice trembling with shame. "Because I am tainted. Despoiled. I am no longer worthy of your friendship-or our closeness."
Valaena furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"
"F-For my name day," Aemond began hesitantly, his fists clenching at his sides, "Aegon took me to a brothel on the Street of Silk. He said it was his duty as my brother to ensure I was as educated as he was."
Realization dawned, and Valaena’s heart plummeted. "Oh," she whispered, taking a step back. "So you—"
"I didn’t want to," Aemond said quickly, his voice cracking. "But Aegon-he paid, and the woman, Sylvi, she had to—"
"Oh, Aemond," Valaena said softly, rushing forward to take his hand.
But he recoiled, pushing her away. "No. I am no longer worthy of you. I’ve tainted myself with the touch of a whore."
"It wasn’t your fault," Valaena insisted, her voice firm.
Aemond shook his head. "I wanted my first time to be with you," he said, his voice raw with anguish. "But now it’s been taken, and I’ll never get it back."
Valaena’s chest ached at his words. "We can still be together," she said, tears streaming down her face.
"No, we can’t," Aemond said, his voice hollow. "I’m disgusted with myself. And you—you are so sweet, so lovely. I don’t deserve you."
Valaena’s hands balled into fists. "So that’s it? You’re just going to turn your back on me? Don’t I mean anything to you?"
"You mean everything to me," Aemond said, his voice breaking. "And that’s why I’m sparing you."
"All you’re doing is breaking my heart!" Valaena cried. "I-I love you, Aemond”
His head snapped up, his eye wide with disbelief. "W-what did you say?"
"I love you," she repeated, her voice steady despite her tears.
Aemond gasped softly. "But-how can you, after what I’ve done?"
"Because you’re still my Aemond," Valaena said. "And it wasn’t your fault."
For a moment, Aemond stood frozen. Then he surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around her.
His voice cracked as he muttered, "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," over and over again.
Their knees gave way, and they sank to the sand together. Aemond buried his face in her neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.
Valaena held him close, her fingers threading through his long silver hair as she whispered, "It’s going to be okay. Iksan lēda ao" (I’m with you).
In the months that followed their emotional reconciliation, Aemond and Valaena grew closer than ever.
Their bond, already strong, deepened with the comfort of shared joy of simply being together.
They turned their attention to repairing the old cabin, transforming it into a cozy retreat that was entirely theirs.
The process was slow—neither of them had any knowledge of carpentry or repairs—but Aemond optimistically declared, “That’s what books are for.”
At their weekly meetings, he arrived with his satchel bulging with tomes on woodwork and home repairs, their pages well-thumbed as he poured over diagrams and instructions.
Their efforts were often punctuated by fits of laughter. Like the time Aemond hit his thumb with the hammer while trying to repair a hole in the wall, spending an hour muttering curses under his breath.
Or when Valaena, perched precariously on a stool, tried to hang curtains on the drafty window only to lose her balance and tumble into a pile of blankets.
By some miracle, they made progress, patching the cabin’s worn wooden walls and repairing the sagging beams.
It wasn’t perfect—the walls leaned slightly, and their makeshift solutions were far from elegant—but the sense of accomplishment was undeniable.
They began leaving things behind: blankets, supplies, and small touches that made the cabin feel like home.
Valaena even tried her hand at sewing a tapestry to hang on the wall, her needle fumbling through the fabric in an attempt to create a dragon.
When she showed it to Aemond, he tilted his head and smirked. “It’s-recognizable. If you look at it upside down.”
Valaena huffed, playfully swatting his arm. “Oh well, perhaps my talents lie elsewhere.”
Despite the teasing, Aemond hung it up anyway, insisting it was a valuable addition—though it ended up serving more as a draft stopper than decoration.
When the cabin repairs were finally complete, their visits became less about work and more about enjoying each other’s company.
They spent hours curled up in front of the small hearth, taking turns reading aloud.
On days when Aemond’s headaches flared from the strain of reading, he would lay his head in Valaena’s lap, letting her voice soothe him as she read, her fingers gently combing through his silver hair.
One day, Valaena suggested they try sparring.
“I don’t want to hear any of that you’re a girl nonsense-” she declared, brandishing a wooden practice sword that Aemond had left in the cabin.
Aemond’s lips curved into a smirk. “I wasn’t going to say that at all. In fact, I declare you a worthy opponent.”
They faced off on the sandy shore, wooden swords clashing as the sound of laughter mingled with the crash of the waves.
Valaena surprised herself by holding her own for a while, dodging Aemond’s strikes and managing a few good hits of her own.
But then Aemond, quick and calculated, tripped her.
She tumbled to the ground with a surprised yelp, sand sticking to her. But she wasn’t about to let him win so easily.
As Aemond extended a hand to help her up, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him down with her.
They landed in a tangle of limbs, laughter spilling from both of them. The sound faded as their eyes met, the world narrowing to just the two of them.
Aemond’s gaze softened, his expression shifting into something tender yet intense. Slowly, he leaned closer, and Valaena felt her breath catch as his lips met hers.
The kiss was hesitant at first, shy and tentative, but it carried a deep, unspoken passion that had been simmering between them for what felt like forever.
Aemond’s gloved hand cupped her face with gentle care, while Valaena’s fingers tightened in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
Their tongues brushed, igniting a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in the quiet, intimate moment.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Aemond admitted, his voice low and rough.
Valaena smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Me too.”
For a long moment, they stayed there in the sand, the roar of the waves and the distant calls of their dragons a comforting backdrop to the start of something new between them.
The cabin was quiet, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the occasional whistle of the wind through the trees outside.
Valaena lay nestled in Aemond’s arms on the small bed they’d pieced together during their repairs, their bodies pressed close together on top of the fur blanket.
Aemond’s nose brushed against her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he murmured against her ear, his voice low and filled with determination.
“I’m going to marry you someday,” he said, his words a promise.
Valaena smiled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his arm. “Oh, are you now?” she teased, her tone light but her heart racing at the conviction in his voice.
“Hmmm” Aemond hummed, pressing a soft kiss to her jawline. “I intend to keep the vow I made in front of the weirwood tree.”
Valaena huffed a laugh, tilting her head to look at him. “I think our family might have something to say about that”
A shadow passed over Aemond’s face before smirked, his violet eye glinting in the firelight. “I don’t care,” he said firmly, his arms tightening around her. “We’ll run away if we have to.”
“Run away?” Valaena giggled, the thought both thrilling and absurd. “Where would we go?”
“To some faraway land where no one can tell us that we can’t be together-we would live free and have children-create our own family” he said confidently, his lips brushing her cheek as he peppered it with kisses, his affection making her laugh again.
“You make it sound so simple,” she said, though the idea filled her with a reckless kind of joy.
“Because it is,” Aemond replied, turning her face toward him and capturing her lips in a kiss.
This kiss wasn’t playful like his earlier ones; it was deeper, slower, filled with the weight of his love for her.
Valaena melted against him, her hand slipping into his hair, fingers tangling in the silver strands as she pulled him closer.
Aemond half-rolled on top of her, the kiss growing more intense as their breaths mingled.
After a few minutes, Aemond pulled back, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath.
Valaena’s hand toyed with the strap of his eyepatch, her fingers hesitant.
“May I?” she asked softly.
Aemond stiffened, his body going still. “It’s unsightly,” he said, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.
“Ivestragī nyke ūndegon ao,” she whispered, her tone gentle but firm. (Let me see you)
He hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Finally, he nodded, moving back slightly to kneel on the bed.
His hand shook as he reached up and removed the eyepatch, the leather falling away to reveal the scarred, empty socket beneath. He lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.
Valaena sat up, her heart aching at his vulnerability. She reached out, placing a finger under his chin and lifting his face.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to the scarred side of his face, her kiss lingering as she whispered, “Ñuha gevie gēlenka zaldrīzes.” (My beautiful brave dragon)
A tear slipped from his good eye, and before he could say anything, Valaena kissed him again, her hands cupping his face as she guided him back down onto the bed.
Aemond followed her willingly, his lips never leaving hers as he settled between her legs, their bodies aligning.
The kisses grew more fervent, their hands roaming one another. Aemond’s tunic was discarded, his cotton shirt quickly following. Valaena’s dress was unlaced and pulled from her body, leaving her in a sheer shift.
They paused, breathing heavily as they looked at one another, their love unspoken but palpable in the air between them.
“I-I’m not ready to-to lie with you,” Valaena whispered, her voice trembling.
Aemond smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone soothing. “We won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”
Valaena hesitated before shyly whispering, “B-but you can touch me-if you want.”
His gaze searched hers, his eye filled with reverence. “Are you sure?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” she breathed, nodding.
Aemond kissed her again, his hand trailing down her body with a reverence that made her shiver.
His hand slowly moving under the fabric of her shift, moving it higher and higher his fingers skimming the soft flesh of her thigh before his fingers rubbed her pearl over the cotton material of her small clothes.
“Already so wet for me” groaned Aemond.
“A-Aemond” breathed Valaena.
“Does it feel good baby?” asked Aemond.
“Oh-Aemond-yes-please” whimpered Valaena as he moved her small clothes aside and slid two of his long fingers inside her.
“Ñuha dōna jorrāelagon” whispered Aemond as he slowly curled his fingers inside her (My sweet love).
“A-Aemond,” she stuttered, her body trembling beneath his. “Something is happening, it f-feels-”
“Let it happen,” he groaned, his lips brushing against her ear as he rolled his own hips against her, matching the rhythm of his fingers and they moved inside her.
Valaena’s body arched, as the pleasure exploded and she shuddered against him, a soft cry escaping her lips before she relaxed, her cheeks flushed pink.
“Did you enjoy that?” Aemond asked, his voice low and tender, as he slowly removed his fingers.
“Yes,” she whispered, her face heating as she avoided his gaze.
He kissed her again, pulling her close and holding her against his bare chest.
“What about you?” she asked softly,
“D-Don’t worry about me” replied Aemond his cheeks tinged pink.
Valaena frowned and looked down and noticed the damp spot on Aemond’s trousers. “Did you-”
Aemond nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes-I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it-”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, offering him a shy smile.
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before climbing off the bed and using a rag to clean himself up.
When he returned, he pulled back the fur blanket, gesturing for her to climb in.
“We don’t have much time before I have to go back to Dragonstone,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
“I know,” he said sadly, pulling her into his arms once they were both under the fur. “But please, just let me hold you.”
Valaena sighed in contentment as she cuddled up against him, his warmth and steady heartbeat soothing her.
They lay there, tangled together, savouring every stolen moment before the world inevitably pulled them apart again.
Valaena’s name day feast was in full swing, the great hall of Dragonstone alive with the sounds of laughter and celebration.
The long table was laden with food, the golden glow of the firelight reflecting off polished goblets and dishes.
Despite the warmth of the occasion, Valaena found her thoughts elsewhere—on a certain silver-haired prince.
Her mother had insisted on hosting the feast, and Valaena had been unable to refuse. She sat at the table, surrounded by her family.
Rhaenyra and Daemon occupied the seats at the head, her brothers Jace and Luke sitting to one side, and her stepsister Rhaena on the other.
Near the fire, her younger brother Aegon sat on a blanket with baby Viserys and their nursemaid, Elinda, playing with brightly painted wooden toys.
The first gift was from Rhaenyra—a set of new riding leathers tailored to perfection.
The shoulders were patterned with swirling dragon scales, and finished off with a crimson sash that could be fastened using her dragon chain.
Daemon followed with a gift of his own—a matching leather wrist gauntlet embossed with the Targaryen three-headed dragon sigil.
“A set of two,” he said as he fastened it onto her wrist, showing her the matching one on his own. “Biare brōzio tubis tala,” he said with a rare softness in his tone. (Happy name day, daughter)
Valaena smiled, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Kepa-” she said, her voice filled with warmth. (Father).
Jace presented her with a set of beaded bracelets, made of silver and white “In honour of Silverwing,” he said with a grin.
Luke offered her a set of hairbrushes, carefully crafted from polished wood “They’re not much, but I hope you like them-I know you don’t like others touching your hair” he said shyly.
“They’re lovely,” Valaena said, her smile reassuring him.
Rhaena handed her a seashell necklace, from the Driftmark shores.
From Maester Gerardys, she received a tray of her favourite cakes.
As her eyes scanned the selection, she noticed that some were ones Aemond particularly enjoyed.
Her gaze flickered toward Gerardys, who stood silently at the edge of the hall, his expression calm but his eyes knowing.
“Thank you, Maester-” Valaena said aloud, her voice bright enough to carry, ensuring the gesture was noticed. “Will you not join us?”
Gerardys inclined his head. “It would be my honour, Princess-” He took a seat beside her, and as the feast carried on, he discreetly pressed a folded letter into her hand beneath the table.
Valaena whispered her thanks, and the Maester gave a small, encouraging smile.
Later that evening, Valaena seized her opportunity, slipping away from the hall, she quickly changed into her new riding leathers and headed toward the stone staircase that led to the dragons’ cavern.
“Off flying again? Sister-” Jace’s voice stopped her, his footsteps echoing in the corridor as he approached.
“Of course,” Valaena replied, her tone casual as she adjusted the fit of her leathers, her fingers toying with the smooth fabric of the red sash.
Jace tilted his head, studying her. “Where do you go when you disappear for hours on end?”
“We just fly-” she said simply, her gaze steady. “Sometimes we find a place to rest, and I wait whilst Silverwing hunts.”
Jace smiled faintly. “You always were more dragon than the rest of us.”
“Even though my dragon egg didn’t hatch?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Mother told me that not all dragons are born to us. Sometimes, there are those who must go out and claim their dragons.”
“Maybe it was fate,” Valaena said softly. “Maybe my egg didn’t hatch because Silverwing was meant for me.”
Jace nodded, considering her words. “It takes a great deal of courage to stand in front of a dragon and do what you did.”
Valaena’s fingers brushed over silver dragon chain that fastened across her body. “Just like Aemond and Vhagar,” she said, her voice quieter now.
At the mention of Aemond, Jace’s expression quickly soured. “That’s different,” he said sharply. “You claimed a dragon that didn’t belong to someone else.”
Valaena scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “We don’t own the dragons, Jacaerys. They are sentient, intelligent creatures capable of making their own decisions. Like it or not, Vhagar chose Aemond that night. She saw something in him, and we both know that if she didn’t want to accept him, she would have reduced him to a pile of ash.”
“But Rhaena—”
“Vhagar was her mother’s dragon,” Valaena interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “I understand why she wanted to claim her, but that doesn’t give her the automatic right to do so. Look at Meleys. She once belonged to Daemon’s mother, and yet she refused him. His own mother’s dragon, and she wouldn’t have him. But she bent her neck to Rhaenys.”
Jace faltered, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I guess when you put it like that-”
Valaena’s tone softened, but her resolve remained firm. “It was Aemond’s right as a Targaryen to claim Vhagar, and he lost his eye for it. You might want to remember that the next time you cast scorn upon him.”
Before Jace could respond, she turned and descended the stairs, disappearing into the cavern below.
Silverwing landed on the sand with a resonant thud, her powerful wings kicking up a swirl of salt-tinged air.
Valaena slid gracefully down the dragon’s shimmering silver wing, her boots sinking slightly into the soft ground.
As she dusted herself off, her gaze shifted to where Vhagar loomed nearby, feasting on what appeared to be a large whale she had recently caught.
Silverwing chittered, a sound halfway between curiosity and a plea, and moved cautiously toward Vhagar, clearly interested in sharing the spoils.
For a moment, the older dragon seemed disinclined to share, her massive head lifting to stare down at the smaller Silverwing with an almost reproachful glare.
But then, with a deep huff that sprayed sand and bits of seawater into the air, Vhagar relented, shifting aside slightly. Silverwing chirped in triumph and eagerly joined the feast.
Valaena huffed a laugh, watching the two dragons interact with a mixture of affection and awe. She adjusted her riding leathers and sash before heading toward the small cabin nestled amidst the rocks and trees.
When she pushed open the door, warmth and the soft crackle of the fire greeted her. Aemond was seated in a chair by the hearth, his sword resting against the arm, but as soon as his eye met hers, he rose swiftly.
He crossed the room in a few long strides, his hands immediately cradling her face as he kissed her deeply.
When they parted, Aemond rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “Happy name day, my love.”
Valaena blushed, the warmth in his voice causing her stomach to flutter. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft.
“I have something for you,” he said, stepping back slightly. He retrieved a small box from a nearby table and handed it to her.
Valaena opened it carefully, her breath catching when she saw the pendant nestled inside—a small, brilliant sapphire that caught the firelight and shimmered like the sea.
Her lips curved into a smile. “Is this—?”
“Yes,” Aemond interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “A piece of my sapphire.”
He took the necklace from the box as Valaena eagerly turned around, gathering her long, dark hair and holding it up for him.
Aemond fastened the delicate chain around her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin.
“How is the sapphire?” she asked, her voice curious.
Wordlessly, Aemond removed his eyepatch, revealing the jewel nestled where his left eye had once been. The surrounding skin was faintly red, but it was healing well.
Valaena’s hand reached up instinctively, her fingers gently caressing the scarred side of his face. Her gaze lingered on the sapphire, its mesmerizing hue catching the firelight, before her eyes returned to his.
Her thumb brushed along the sharp edge of his jaw, her touch tender.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “Truly.”
Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his expression replaced with a small, grateful smile. “D-do you like the necklace?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
“I love it,” Valaena said, sincerity shining in her dark eyes. “Thank you.”
Relief and joy softened his features as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. His arms encircled her, pulling her flush against him.
Their shared warmth seemed to banish the chill of the night, and Valaena’s hands found their way into his hair as she kissed him back fervently.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Valaena’s cheeks were flushed. “I-I’m ready,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with both nerves and determination. “I-I want to lie with you.”
Aemond froze for a moment, his eye searching hers. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his tone gentle but firm. “We don’t have to”
“I’m sure,” she replied, nodding with conviction. “I want this. I want you.”
Aemond’s lips curved into a soft, reverent smile. “Okay,” he said. “But if at any point it becomes too much or you want to stop, just say the word.”
Valaena nodded, her heart racing but her resolve steady. Slowly, she began to undress, her fingers trembling slightly as she unclasped the dragon chain and slipped out of her riding leathers.
She draped them over the back of a chair, followed by her shift, leaving her bare save for the sapphire pendant that was now rested against her chest.
Valaena took a deep breath and climbed into the bed, pulling the fur-lined covers around herself.
Aemond followed suit, removing his leathers, before slipping beneath the blankets beside her.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with anticipation, until Valaena reached for him. Her touch was hesitant yet eager, her fingers brushing against his arm before trailing upward.
Aemond leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that quickly deepened, his hand cradling her cheek before sliding into her hair.
As their kiss deepened, Valaena gently tugged him with her as she lay back, drawing him closer.
His body shifted, half-draped over hers, their forms pressing together as the world outside faded into nothingness.
Aemond pulled away from the kiss and began to shimmy down the bed, before lowering his head between Valaena’s legs.
“W-What are you doing?” asked Valaena her voice shaking.
“Shhh ñuha jorrāelagon-” rasped Aemond (my love).
“Aemond-” shrieked Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.
Valaena bit her lip to step her from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.
“Let me hear you” groaned Aemond, his own hips rutting into the bed.
“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” begged Valaena.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes-yes, so g-good” breathed Valaena, her fingers coiling in Aemond’s silver hair.
Aemond pressed two fingers inside Valaena, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake, his tongue moving against her folds, his lips wrapping around her pearl.
“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Peak for me” whispered Aemond.
Valaena arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.
Aemond crawled up Valaena’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.
Aemond paused when he got to her chest, his hand gently cupping her breast before he sucked the rosy bud into his mouth, his tongue rolling around the stiffened peak.
“Ohhh Aemond” whined Valaena.
Aemond released her nipple with a soft pop and smirked “Do you like that?”
Valaena nodded and blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.
“Calm yourself ñuha nūmio” murmured Aemond (My pearl).
“I-I’m ready” muttered Valaena jumping slightly when she felt Aemond’s cock against her.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow” whispered Aemond.
“I-I trust you” whispered Valaena nervously.
Aemond smiled before he knelt between her thighs, supporting himself above her on his forearm while his other hand guides his cock to her wet centre.
“Oooh Aemond” exclaims Valaena.
Aemond slowly pushes the blunt head of his cock inside. Just the tip feels okay but then he’s pushing inside, and it stings, Valaena takes a deep breath and clenches her eyes shut as Aemond keeps moving until his cock fully slides into her, his hips coming to rest against hers.
“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.
“It hurts,” cried Valaena.
“Do you want me to stop-I can pull out” whispered Aemond raising his hand and tracing his thumb over her plump bottom lip.
“N-No g-give me a moment” whimpered Valaena.
Aemond nods, holding himself above Valaena, she can feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside her.
For a few silent minutes, Aemond begins to press gentle kisses all over Valaena���s face and neck, then after the sting has faded somewhat, Valaena gently moves her hips.
“I-I think you can move”.
Aemond exhales shakily, slowly pulling out halfway only to thrust right back in.
“You’re taking me so well-” whispers Aemond soothingly, thrusting again, harder this time.
Gradually he gets into a rhythm, his movements slow but powerful.
Valaena slides her hands up his back towards up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed. The wooden frame creaking slightly.
Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Valaena even more, kissing her passionately.
His cock still thrusting in and out.
Valaena kisses him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair.
Aemond breaks the kiss, breathing heavily.
Valaena can feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.
“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”
“A-Are you sure?” asked Aemond.
“Yes. Please I want to feel you” whispered Valaena.
Aemond groans as he begins to move faster pounding into her, their skin slapping together.
“Aemond-Aemond-”
“You’re so fucking perfect, mine all mine” growls Aemond as he reaches down and circles her pearl with his finger.
“Y-Yes, yours all yours” moans Valaena squirming as her pleasure peaks and she explodes.
Aemond lets out a long low groan, removing his finger as his hips buck wildly. His cock twitching as he spills his seed into her.
Aemond’s hips finally stagger and stop, his cock still twitching slightly. His face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as he rests for a moment before he slowly pulls out.
Valaena gasps as he slips from her, and Aemond looks down to see a mix of blood and his seed staining his cock.
Aemond slowly climbs out of bed and soaks a rag in the basin of warm water near the fire, he comes back to bed and gently cleans between Valaena’s legs, careful not to hurt her.
“Is this, ok?” asked Aemond.
“I-Its fine” replied Valaena, her cheeks tinged pink as Aemond finishes cleaning her.
He returns to the basin, wetting the rag one more time before cleaning himself and then he comes back to bed, climbing back in and wrapping his arms around Valaena, a sigh of contentment escaping her as she lays her head on his chest.
The room was quiet save for the soft crackle of the fire, the flickering light casting warm shadows over the cabin's wooden walls.
Valaena lay nestled in Aemond’s arms, her head resting on his chest as he held her close beneath the fur-lined blankets. His hand traced lazy circles on her back, and she could feel his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek.
“Are you okay?” Aemond asked softly, his voice gentle as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m fine,” Valaena whispered, her voice still tinged with shyness. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Are you?”
“I am,” he replied with a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Valaena traced patterns on his chest with her fingers, her cheeks warming as she hesitated before whispering, “D-did you enjoy it? W-was I g-good?”
Aemond’s brow furrowed slightly in surprise, and he cupped her face with his hand. “I enjoyed it immensely,” he said, his tone steady and reassuring. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“I-I’ve never done it before, and-” she admitted softly, her gaze falling to the hollow of his throat, unable to meet his eye.
Aemond placed a gentle finger against her lips, silencing her. “My experience with Sylvi was nothing compared to what we just shared,” he said firmly. “She was nothing, and—” His voice softened, his eye locking with hers. “-You are everything.”
Tears pricked the corners of Valaena’s eyes as she smiled and whispered, “I love you so much.”
Aemond leaned down and kissed her tenderly. “I love you too,” he murmured against her lips before deepening the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair.
When they finally parted, Valaena giggled softly, her cheeks tinged with pink. “That thing with your tongue,” she began shyly, “did you learn that—”
Aemond’s cheeks flushed a deep red as he interrupted quickly, “No! I-I asked Aegon for advice on how to-please a woman.”
Valaena blinked in surprise, then laughed softly. “Oh, well, I suppose he is quite knowledgeable on the subject.”
Aemond huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s about the only subject he does excel in.”
Valaena giggled again before her expression grew more serious. “When I get back to Dragonstone, I’ll have to ask Maester Gerardys for some moon tea.”
Aemond’s brow furrowed slightly. “Won’t he tell your mother?”
“No,” Valaena said with confidence. “I trust him. He’s the one who helps send my letters to you.”
Aemond nodded thoughtfully. “Isn’t he the Maester who made that salve for my eye that you sent me?”
“Yes,” Valaena replied. “He’s quite skilled and very knowledgeable about healing methods.”
“That salve worked wonders,” Aemond said, a hint of disdain creeping into his voice. “Far better than the piss-water Maester Orwyle prescribed.”
Valaena laughed softly. “Mayhaps Orwyle has his limits on what he knows.”
“Possibly,” Aemond mused. “Though you should see the state my father is in. That man’s beyond saving.”
Valaena’s expression grew serious as she propped herself up on her elbow, the covers slipping from her shoulders, revealing her bare chest.
Aemond’s eye momentarily lingered, captivated, before she interrupted his thoughts.
“Is my grandsire really that bad?” she asked.
Aemond cleared his throat, trying to focus. “We’re not permitted to see him. Not that he would want to see us anyway. But last I heard, whatever rot has set upon him has taken his right eye.”
Valaena’s lips parted in shock. “Oh, that sounds horrendous. But forgive me for saying-rather poetic.”
Aemond tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“You lost your eye,” Valaena said softly. “And now he’s lost his.”
Aemond hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose he cares either way.”
Valaena lay back down, her expression troubled. “It saddens me greatly that he does not treat you as a father should.”
Aemond brushed a finger over her cheek. “I’ve grown used to his indifference.”
“Still, it shouldn’t be that way,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sympathy.
Aemond’s finger continued to trace her skin, his tone softening. “What’s my uncle like as a father?”
Valaena smiled faintly. “Pretty good. He taught me High Valyrian and gave me lessons on dragon riding. But mostly, he just chases after my mother. The two of them are always kissing, holding hands, and disappearing off to their chambers.”
Aemond chuckled, shaking his head. “And to think, my grandsire believed Daemon was a second Maegor, when in reality he’s just-cuntstruck”
Valaena burst into laughter. “You can say that again.”
Aemond’s grin widened. “Speaking of again-” He shifted closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I wish to take you again. If you’ll have me.”
Valaena’s laughter faded as she gazed into his eye, her heart fluttering as she felt his cock hardening against her.
She leaned in and kissed him, her voice breathy against his lips. “Of course I’ll have you.”
With that, Aemond rolled on top of her, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss, their shared warmth igniting once more as the fire crackled beside them.
Over the following weeks, Aemond and Valaena became utterly consumed by their passion for one another.
Their stolen moments at the cabin became the centre of their world, a sanctuary where they could leave behind the pressures of their families and simply be together.
Valaena often arrived at the cabin before Aemond, her heart racing in anticipation of his arrival.
The moment he stepped through the door, she would launch herself into his arms, their lips colliding in a heated kiss that left no room for words.
Clothes were hastily removed, their eagerness rendering them heedless of where they were.
Many times, they didn’t even make it to the bed, their passion igniting on the wooden floor before the crackling fire.
Sometimes, their passion spilled beyond the walls of the cabin. There were times where Aemond would press Valaena against the side of the cabin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, whilst he pounded inside her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts.
Or they found themselves on the sandy shore, the waves lapping over their feet and legs as they made love under the stars.
The two of them take the time to learn each other’s bodies, experiencing an intimacy like nothing either of them had ever felt before.
Aemond would trace idle patterns on Valaena’s bare skin, whispering words of love in High Valyrian, and she would smile, her fingers tangling in his silvery hair.
Of course, when Valaena returned to Dragonstone after their encounters, there was always had a cup of moon tea waiting for her, the herbal concoction steaming on the hidden ledge under her desk.
She would hold her nose and down the bitter liquid in one gulp, grimacing at the foul aftertaste.
But it was necessary as Aemond would always spill his seed inside her, and they were both too young to bear the weight of children just yet.
They sometimes spoke in soft whispers of a future where they might be blessed with a babe or two, but for now, Valaena was content, she cherished the time they had together, their secret world of love and desire.
Aemond, too, seemed utterly at peace in those moments, his usual sharp intensity softening when he held her in his arms.
For now, it was enough for the two of them to share their stolen happiness.
Yet a shadow hung over their relationship, growing darker with each passing day. Aemond’s frustration was mounting, his restlessness palpable.
The secrecy that bound them, was becoming like a cage. He yearned for more, for a life where they could be together openly, without fear or restraint.
The ache in his chest when they parted gnawed at him, sharper each time he mounted Vhagar to return to the Red Keep alone. His love for her was all-consuming, and the distance between them was unbearable.
Valaena saw it in his eye, in the way his grip tightened when they said their farewells.
It was only a matter of time before Aemond’s frustrations boiled over—before the simmering anger and longing he held back could no longer be contained.
It happened a few weeks later, after yet another night of passion that left them tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms.
The firelight flickered softly in the dim cabin, their breaths still mingling in the aftermath.
Valaena lay draped over Aemond’s chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin, their shared silence a comfort.
Aemond then broke the silence with a frustrated sigh. "I’m tired of this, Valaena. Tired of sneaking around. Tired of hiding what we are."
Valaena fingers, stilled and she propped herself up on one of her elbows, looking down at him with a mixture of sadness and apprehension.
"Aemond, you know why we have to keep this secret. If anyone finds out—"
"I don’t care!" he snapped, sitting up abruptly, dislodging her. "Do you hear me? I don’t care what they think. I want to be with you openly. To stand before everyone and say you are mine."
"And what do you think will happen then?" Valaena shot back, her voice rising. "Do you think they’ll smile and bless us? They’ll tear us apart, Aemond! You know this!"
Aemond’s face darkened, and his voice dropped to a dangerous edge. "I refuse to accept that. I won’t let them control my life—or yours."
Valaena’s frustration boiled over, her voice cracking with emotion. "You think I like this? Do you think I enjoy sneaking around like some thief in the night? I hate it as much as you do, but we don’t have a choice!”
“There’s always a choice,” Aemond growled, standing and pacing the small space.
“Is there?” Valaena asked, her tone sharp and biting. “Do you think they’ll just allow us to be together? Do you think our family will just smile and nod? Aemond, wake up!”
He whirled on her, his single eye blazing with fury. “Do not speak to me as if I’m a child, Valaena. I understand the risks better than anyone!”
Valaena stiffened, drawing back slightly to meet his gaze. "We’ve been over this, Aemond. It has to be this way—for now."
"For now?" he scoffed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his jaw tight with frustration. "More like forever. Let’s not delude ourselves."
“-Aemond! If we’re discovered, they’ll tear us apart!”
"Then maybe I should find someone else," he spat, the words escaping before he could stop them.
The words hit her like a blow, and for a moment, Valaena could only stare at him, her breath hitching.
“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Maybe I should find someone that doesn’t require me to participate in this ridiculous charade,” he said, his tone biting and cruel, though the pain in his eye betrayed him.
“FINE!” Valaena screamed, tears streaming down her face. “Go! Find someone else! Someone who will parade around with you and feed your ego”
Aemond’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving with anger. “Maybe I will,” he spat, grabbing his tunic and yanking it over his head and then pulling on his breeches and boots.
“GOOD!”” Valaena shouted, her voice cracking. “I’m sure there are plenty of simpering court ladies just dying to spread their legs for you!"
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the cabin.
Valaena scrambled after him, tears streaming down her face. "Aemond, wait, please!"
But he ignored her, storming out of the cabin and into the cool night air. He reached Vhagar, hastily climbing the rope ladder.
The old dragon rumbled in confusion at his hurried commands, but obeyed nonetheless, taking off into the night sky.
The rush of wind and the familiar power of flight did little to calm him. His mind churned with anger and regret, the argument playing on a loop in his head.
Aemond then realized, with a heavy pang, that Valaena had been right.
The chasm within their family grew wider with each passing day, and though he loathed to admit it, their love was yet another crack threatening to deepen that divide.
If their relationship was discovered, the fallout would be catastrophic.
Aemond imagined his mother’s stern rebuke, her sharp words dripping with disappointment, mostly likely followed by a sharp slap.
His grandsire would look upon him with disdain, lecturing him on how reckless and idiotic he was, and the danger he posed to his own future.
Aegon, ever the hedonist, would undoubtedly slap him on the back, making some vulgar jest about his conquest, entirely blind—or wilfully ignorant—to the gravity of the situation.
But none of that frightened him as much as what Valaena would face.
The thought of her suffering for their love churned his stomach. He had taken her maidenhead. She was no longer virtuous in the eyes of the lords and ladies of Westeros.
The thought of her being deemed unworthy, rejected for something as sacred to him as their love, filled him with rage.
No highborn lord would take her to wife now, not when her honour was deemed sullied.
The idea of another man even daring to look at her, let alone touch her, sent jealousy surging through his veins like wildfire. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening.
No. He wouldn’t allow it.
Valaena was his—his love, his partner, his heart. She had given herself to him willingly and completely. She was everything he could ever want—the one light in the shadows of his world.
The mere thought of losing her, of never holding her again, shattered him.
Valaena had been his truest friend as a child, the one soul who had understood him when no one else could.
Now, she was his greatest love, the centre of his very being. The weight of it all—their love, the risk, the uncertainty—crushed his chest, making it impossible to breathe.
Aemond clenched the reins, his voice raw as he shouted into the night, "FUUUUCK!"
Vhagar rumbled in response, as though sharing his frustration. Aemond pulled on the reins, turning her back toward Wendwater. His heart pounded as the cabin came into view, with Silverwing still perched nearby.
Relief flooded through him—she hadn’t left.
Vhagar landed with a thud, and as Aemond climbed down the ladder, she gave him a look of reproach. He ran a hand along her massive neck. "Kessa, nyke gīmigon nyke iā mittys," he muttered. (Yes, I know I’m an idiot)
Vhagar grumbled as if in agreement, lumbering off toward Silverwing, who seemed equally displeased, her lashing at the ground.
Aemond took a deep breath and stepped into the cabin. His heart ached at the sight before him. Valaena lay curled on the bed, her face buried in the pillows as she sobbed.
Quickly discarding his clothes, he climbed into bed beside her, gathering her trembling form into his arms.
"I’m sorry," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. "I’m so sorry, Valaena."
She sniffled, clutching at him desperately. "I thought you’d left me."
"Never," he vowed, his voice cracking with emotion. "Forgive me."
Valaena pressed her face into his chest, her tears dampening his skin. "I do," she whispered after a moment.
Aemond let out a shaky breath, holding her tighter. "You were right. If we’re discovered, they’ll tear us apart, and I’m not sure I’d survive it."
"Me either," Valaena admitted softly. "You are my heart and soul."
"And you are mine," Aemond said firmly.
As they lay entwined in the flickering firelight, Valaena’s tears began to fall again, silent and unrelenting, a reflection of the pain in her heart. Her voice wavered, raw with anguish, as she finally broke the silence.
“I hate this, Aemond,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his back as though anchoring herself to him, desperate to keep him from vanishing into the shadows. “Believe me, I hate every moment of sneaking around. I want so much more for us.”
Aemond’s heart twisted at the pain in her voice. He gently cupped her tear-streaked cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness. “Then tell me, Valaena,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Tell me what you want.”
Her shimmering eyes locked onto his, and her voice broke as she poured her heart out, the words tumbling from her lips like a flood she could no longer hold back.
“I wish you could stand before the world and declare your intentions to marry me,” she began, her voice trembling with the weight of her dreams. “I wish we could have a ceremony in the Great Sept, with bells ringing and the entire realm gathered to witness our love. I want to stand there, draped in Targaryen red and black, and feel your cloak fastened over my shoulders. To hear you pledge yourself to me, to speak the vows that would bind us forever—and for me to do the same.”
Aemond’s lips parted, his voice barely a breath. “Ñuha jorrāelagon” he murmured softly, (My love).
Valaena’s tears spilled freely now, her voice gaining strength as her longing poured forth. “I want to seal those vows with a kiss, to have our love celebrated, not hidden. I want a grand reception filled with laughter and joy, where our family and friends toast to our union. I want to hold your hand as we sneak off to our chambers, to undress slowly and savour every moment. To make love all night without fear, without restraint, because the world would know we belong to each other.”
Aemond’s throat tightened, his own emotions threatening to overcome him. He pressed his forehead to hers, his touch grounding her even as her words sent his heart soaring.
“I want to feel your seed take root inside me,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, her hand moving instinctively to rest on her flat stomach. “I want to carry your child, to feel my belly swell with our love. To see the look of joy on your face as you hold our babe for the first time. To watch you become a wonderful, devoted father. I want a family with you, Aemond. A life where we’re free to love each other openly.”
Her voice cracked as a sob escaped her, and she buried her face against his chest. “I hate this secrecy. I hate the lies and the shadows. But even though it breaks my heart, I’d rather have this—this fragment of a life with you—than nothing at all.”
Aemond’s arms tightened around her as if he could shield her from the world’s cruelty, his own tears glistening in the firelight. He pressed a reverent kiss to her temple, his lips lingering as he fought to steady his voice.
“I vow,” he said, his words thick with conviction, “that one day, we will marry. I will drape my cloak over your shoulders, and I will speak the vows that bind us. Before all who are there to look upon us, I will pledge my love to you, my wife, my Queen-”
He drew back slightly, his gaze softening, a quiet smile curving his lips. “We will have as many children as you desire—beautiful, fierce children. Dragon riders, every one of them.”
“Oh-Aemond,” Valaena gasped, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, her heart swelling with love and hope.
“And when the time comes,” he continued, his voice dropping to a tender whisper, “when we have lived a full, rich life together, I will not leave this world without you. We will go together, so that even in death, our spirits remain intertwined. Our love will be eternal.”
His lips hovered over hers, and he kissed her softly, reverently, sealing his words with a promise as unbreakable as Valyrian steel. When he pulled back, his violet eye held hers, filled with a love so fierce it left her breathless.
“I love you, Valaena,” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I always will.”
Valaena nodded against his chest, her tears soaking his skin as she clung to him. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice fragile but resolute. “But promise me, Aemond. Promise me that we’ll find a way.”
"I promise," Aemond vowed, holding her tightly as though he could shield her from the world. "We will find a way to be together, Valaena. I swear it."
The End.
#house of the dragon#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x oc#aemond#aemond smut#prince aemond#aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond targaryen#kcktfics
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A Dragon's Heart II
Summary:
Daemons plan to get rid of Borros has an unexpected concequence, and Aemond despairs when Viserra moves to Dragonstone.
Warning(s): Angst, Arranged/Unwanted Marriage, Swearing, Family Drama, Dragons, Infidelity, Uncle/Niece Incest, Allusion to Smut, Attempted Blackmail, Conspiracy, Revelations, Character Death.
AEMOND x O.C
Word Count: 7,600
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
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Maester Gerardys had just finished his examination, looking solemn as he spoke. "The Princess should not travel. The sickness she suffers from has made her a little frail, and any journey could endanger her and the child. She must remain here to rest”.
Rhaenyra, seated on the edge of Viserra’s bed, holding her daughter’s hand tightly, nodded. "Thank you, Maester Gerardys. That will be all."
The Maester bowed and quietly exited the room, leaving an uneasy silence between Borros and the Queen.
Rhaenyra turned her gaze to Borros, her voice firm but calm. "I will not allow my daughter or grandchild to come to harm. Viserra will stay here, in the Red Keep, until she is well”
Borros’ jaw tightened, his frustration evident. He wanted to argue, to demand his wife’s return to Storm's End, but there was no defying Rhaenyra’s authority.
With a begrudging sigh, he relented. "Very well. But if Viserra cannot come with me, I will take Rhaegar to Storm’s End and when she is well enough, she can join us."
Viserra’s hand gripped Rhaenyra’s a little tighter, as if the very suggestion filled her with dread. Rhaenyra squeezed back reassuringly, her gaze hardening as she rose to her feet.
"Rhaegar will stay with his mother in the Red Keep," she said sharply. "He is my grandson and the future heir to the Iron Throne. Storm's End is not his home and taking him away from his mother at such a young age will only harm the boy. If you wish to return to Storm's End so badly, you may do so-alone."
Borros’ face darkened at her words. "He’s my son. He should be raised at Storm’s End, not coddled in the Red Keep-"
"You have no right to tear him from his mother’s side," Rhaenyra interrupted coldly. "Do not forget where you are. You would do well to remember your place."
The tension in the room rose further, but Borros quickly bit back his anger. He knew he was treading dangerous ground.
Still, he pressed on, albeit with a new angle. "What of the marriage proposal between Floris and Prince Aemond?”
Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with fury. "There will be no marriage. Aemond has declined the match, he has no interest in taking a wife"
Borros’ face twisted in anger. "-He was willing to take a wife when he came to Storm’s End offering his hand in marriage in exchange for support for his brother, King Aegon—" His voice boomed through the room, shaking with indignation.
"How dare speak of that treason in my presence?" hissed Rhaenyra her voice icy with rage. "-If you ever bring that up again. I will have you executed-now I suggest you get out of my sight and return to Storms End, immediately”
Borros stiffened, his fists clenched. But Rhaenyra’s unwavering stare left no room for argument. He bowed stiffly, though it was clear he was seething beneath the surface.
"As you command, Your Grace," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Without another word, Borros turned and stormed from the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
As the door closed, Rhaenyra let out a breath, her gaze softening as she looked down at her daughter.
"Rest, my love," she whispered, brushing Viserra's silver hair from her damp forehead. "I will not let him take you or Rhaegar from here."
The flickering candlelight in Viserra’s chambers cast soft shadows across the room as Aemond quietly slipped through the secret entrance, closing it behind him with practiced stealth.
He moved silently, removing his boots and setting them carefully aside. As he approached the bed, his gaze softened at the sight of Viserra lying still beneath the covers.
Her breathing was even, her pale face peaceful in sleep, his heart ached at the sight of her so sick, yet still undeniably beautiful.
Aemond carefully lowered himself onto the bed beside her, taking care not to disturb her rest. He lay close, his body warm next to hers, and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.
His hand rested lightly on her stomach, where their child grew. The thought filled him with both wonder and possessive pride. This was the second time she carried a babe of his blood.
His gaze shifted to the half-eaten bowl of broth on the bedside table. Surely, she should be eating more.
She hadn’t been this sick when she was carrying Rhaegar—was it because this was her second pregnancy, or perhaps something else?
He thought back to Helaena and how sick she had been when carrying the twins.
Could it be possible that Viserra carried more than one babe?
Regardless, Aemond couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet strength of her body, this woman who endured so much and still carried on.
The idea that it was his seed that had taken root in her, that a life—another life—grew because of the love they shared, stirred something deep within him.
It was something primal, a possessive need to protect, to cherish her, and to ensure their future together.
Leaning down, he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to her stomach, his lips barely brushing the fabric of her nightgown. This was his family—Viserra, Rhaegar, and now this babe. His family, born of love and bound by blood.
As if sensing his presence, Viserra stirred slightly in her sleep. Aemond carefully manoeuvred her into his arms, pulling her closer to him.
She sighed contentedly, her body instinctively curling against his as she pressed her face into his chest. He held her gently, stroking her hair with tender fingers, his chin resting atop her head.
He closed his eye, listening to the quiet sounds of the night, the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and the steady heartbeat of the woman he loved more than anything in this world.
For now, in this stolen moment, they were together, and that was all that mattered.
A couple of days later, Aemond sat in his chambers, the amber glow of the fire casting long shadows across the stone walls.
He swirled the cup of wine in his hand, lost in thought, while Aegon sprawled out lazily in a chair opposite him, already halfway through his third cup of wine.
Aegon chuckled, leaning forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Floris Baratheon, huh?" He laughed again, louder this time. "How desperate does a lady need to be? If she really wanted to ride the dragon so badly, I would’ve offered my own services”
Aemond rolled his eye, and without missing a beat, he kicked Aegon sharply in the shin. "You’ve got a wife, remember? You might want to consider being a bit more subtle in your dishonour."
Aegon scoffed, rubbing his leg where Aemond had kicked him. "Subtle? Since when have I ever been subtle? Besides, you’re one to talk." He smirked, raising his cup to his lips before pointing it at Aemond. "The number of ladies you’ve taken to bed over the years-you weren’t exactly a pious septon yourself."
Aemond’s expression didn’t change, but he shook his head slightly. "I’ve only taken Viserra to my bed in the last four years," he said calmly, his gaze fixed on the wine in his cup.
Aegon snorted. "I wasn’t talking about now, brother. I was talking about before that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your fondness for older widows. Wasn't exactly the best kept secret around the Keep." He waggled his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair with a smug grin.
“There weren’t that many-” muttered Aemond.
“How many? And I’ll know if your lying”
“Four, and before you ask no I wasn’t seeing them at the same time. I went with one a couple of times and then ended it before I went with another” replied Aemond.
“Where’s the fun in that?” asked Aegon.
“Aegon-” muttered Aemond, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden chair arm.
Aegon wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. “Older ladies though? Really, brother?” His face contorted in amusement as he shook his head, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
Aemond frowned, a touch defensive. "They weren’t that old," he said, his tone flat.
Aegon raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if waiting for a confession. "Go on then, how old was the oldest one you laid with?"
Aemond shrugged, as though it didn’t matter. "I don’t know-around thirty?"
Aegon sniggered, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Thirty?”
Aemond rolled his eye but didn’t rise to the bait. "I wasn’t with them for pleasure" he said matter-of-factly. "I was with them to learn—to know how to please a woman."
Aegon’s grin widened, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, and did you learn anything?"
Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "Viserra seems pleased well enough."
That sent Aegon into a fit of raucous laughter, "Oh, gods, I needed that. And here you are, all high and mighty, calling me out for my dishonour!" He pointed a finger at Aemond, still grinning. "Meanwhile, you’re literally sleeping with another man’s wife and siring bastards upon her"
“Remind me again how many bastards of yours are running around the streets of silk?”
“Not that many-I don’t think” replied Aegon with a shrug.
Aemond’s gaze narrowed. "Viserra may be Borros’ wife in the eyes of the Seven," he snapped, the edge in his voice unmistakable, "But in the traditions of Old Valyria, she’s mine."
He lifted his hand, showing Aegon the faded scar on his palm, the mark of his and Viserra’s blood oath.
Aegon looked at the scar for a moment, then his face split into a wide grin before he burst out laughing again, harder than before. "Gods, if Mother knew—" He laughed even harder, clutching his sides. "She’d have a bloody heart attack."
Aemond’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond, letting Aegon’s laughter echo in the room.
Aegon finally began to calm down, his laughter subsiding as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
The room fell into a brief silence, the tension between the brothers softening as Aegon sighed deeply. His eyes turned serious as he leaned back in his chair, a shadow of something uncharacteristically solemn crossing his face.
“In all seriousness, Aemond-I envy you,” Aegon admitted quietly, surprising his brother.
Aemond raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “Why?”
Aegon took another sip of wine, staring down into the cup as if the answer could be found at the bottom.
“Because you have someone who loves you. Someone willing to defy tradition and risk everything, just to be with you. I see the way Viserra looks at you—like you’re the only man in the world. I wish I had someone who looked at me like that.”
Aemond blinked, caught off guard by the rare moment of vulnerability from his brother. He paused for a moment before speaking, his tone calm but firm.
“Maybe if you put half as much effort into your marriage as you do into drinking and whoring, Helaena might look at you the way you want.”
Aegon shook his head sadly, his gaze distant. “I don’t mean to hurt her,” he admitted. “But I never wanted her as a wife. She’s my sister, and that’s all she’ll ever be to me. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t-see her any other way.”
Aemond remained silent for a moment, absorbing his brother’s words. Aegon was flawed, broken in many ways, but in this moment, Aemond could sense the depth of his regret.
"You’re lucky," Aegon continued, his voice soft and tinged with something close to longing. "You’ve found someone who’s willing to risk it all. Someone who loves you enough to defy everything that’s expected of her. Don’t take that for granted, brother."
Aemond glanced down, his hand unconsciously brushing the faded scar on his palm. His thoughts drifted to Viserra—the way she had given herself to him fully, despite the dangers and despite the world that tried to keep them apart.
“I know,” Aemond said quietly, his voice filled with a sense of conviction. "Believe me, I know how lucky I am."
Aegon offered him a weak smile, raising his cup in a half-hearted toast. “Then here’s to us. To our mess of a family, and to the ones who stand by us despite it all.”
Aemond clinked his cup with Aegon’s, though his thoughts were already far away, with Viserra, the woman who had become his everything.
Meanwhile, the carriage rumbled through the depths of the Kingswood, its wheels crunching over fallen leaves and twigs.
Inside, Borros sat across from his daughter, Floris, his expression darkened with disappointment. His hopes for a marriage between her and Prince Aemond had been dashed.
He glanced at Floris, frustration evident in his tone as he asked, "Did you do as I suggested? Did you wait for the Prince in his chambers?"
Borros had hoped that if Aemond succumbed to Floris and bedded her, then the Prince could be forced into the marriage, as a way to atone for defiling a maiden.
Floris nodded; her gaze downcast. "I did, Father, but he would not have me."
Borros scoffed, disbelief lacing his voice. "What man in his right mind would refuse to bed such a beautiful maid as my daughter?" His brow furrowed, searching her face for answers.
Floris muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. "A man whose heart belongs to his whore of a niece-"
Borros's ears perked up, his sharp hearing catching the faint whisper. "What did you just say?" he demanded, leaning forward. "Aemond’s niece? You speak of my wife."
Floris froze, realizing her slip. She shook her head, fear flickering in her eyes. "It’s nothing, Father."
Borros wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed as he pressed her further, suspicion gnawing at him. "If you know something, you need to tell me. Now."
Floris hesitated, her heart pounding. She knew the danger of what she was about to reveal, but the weight of the secret was too much to bear. "Aemond, h-he threatened to kill me if I told anyone," she confessed, her voice trembling.
Borros’s anger flared at the thought of anyone threatening his daughter. "Told anyone what? Speak, Floris!"
Tears welled in Floris’s eyes as she finally let the truth spill out. "Viserra and Aemond, they’ve been having an affair. Rhaegar isn’t your son. He’s Aemond’s."
For a moment, Borros stared at her in stunned silence, refusing to believe what he had just heard. "You lie," he growled, shaking his head. "Rhaegar is my son"
Floris's voice grew firmer, desperation giving her courage. "Open your eyes, Father. The boy looks nothing like you. Haven’t you ever noticed how Aemond is always around him, more so than anyone else? How the boy clings to him? It’s because he’s Rhaegar’s true father, not you."
Borros’s face twisted with rage and disbelief. He didn’t want to accept it, but the pieces began to fall into place.
His heart pounded as he wrestled with the horrifying realization. "No. Rhaegar is my son," he insisted, but his voice wavered.
Floris leaned forward, her eyes pleading. "No, he’s not and neither is that babe she carries. Viserra has played you for a fool, she's even married to Aemond, as part of some Valyrian ritual-he told me himself"
Before Borros could fully process the betrayal, the carriage came to a sudden, jarring stop. The horses whinnied nervously, and the sounds of movement outside filled the air.
Borros frowned, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked as he pushed open the carriage door and stepped out.
A group of men had surrounded the carriage, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods.
One of them stepped forward, his voice cold and menacing. "His Grace, the King Consort, sends his regards."
Panic surged through Floris, and she began to scream, as a flash of steel glinted in the dim light, and in one swift, brutal motion, the assassin's blade sliced through the air, finding its mark.
Viserra walked into the council chambers, she had only just begun to recover from the sickness that had plagued her pregnancy, and this summons had only served to cause a knot of uncertainty to form in her stomach.
As she stepped inside, her eyes immediately found Aemond, standing tall in his black armour, his gold cloak draped over his shoulder.
His hand was curled around the hilt of his sword, his jaw tense. His violet eye flicked toward her, but his expression was unreadable.
Her mother was seated at the head of the table, with her father standing protectively beside her. Rhaenys the Hand of the Queen was sat to her left with Lord Corlys and Alicent was also present, with a pensive look on her face.
"Come in, Viserra," Rhaenyra said, her voice steady but softer than usual. "Take a seat."
The guards who had escorted her closed the door behind them. Viserra hesitated for a moment, her pulse quickening, before she moved to sit.
A glance at Aemond revealed no comfort—his gaze remained fixed, distant.
Viserra's heart raced as she took her seat. She felt all eyes upon her.
“What’s this about?” she asked, her voice more tentative than she intended. A sense of dread washed over her, though she wasn’t sure why.
Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon before speaking, her tone gentle but firm. “There has been an incident involving your husband, Lord Borros.”
Viserra froze. “Is-is he alright?”
Rhaenyra shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with seriousness. “It seems Lord Borros' carriage was set upon by thieves not long after entering the Kingswood.”
Viserra’s chest tightened. “Thieves?” she repeated, her voice faint. “Is he-”
Rhaenyra nodded; the weight of her answer heavy. “All were killed, including Lord Borros, and his daughter, Floris.”
Viserra sat back in her chair, shock numbing her thoughts. She hadn’t loved Borros, but hearing of his death was unexpected. She barely had time to process the loss before another question came to her.
“What about Cassandra?” she asked quickly, her gaze darting around the room.
Alicent leaned forward, her hands clasped together, her face a mask of quiet concern. “It seems Lord Borros had instructed Cassandra to remain in the Red Keep, to accompany you and Prince Rhaegar to Storm’s End once you had recovered from your illness.”
Viserra’s mind raced, struggling to understand. “But Borros left the Red Keep some time ago,” she said, confusion lacing her words. “Why are we just finding out about this now?”
Daemon’s voice cut in, dark and steady. “The incident wasn’t discovered until recently. It seems the thieves dragged the carriage off the main path in the Kingswood. Where it lay hidden”
Viserra swallowed hard, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. The world seemed to tilt, everything around her moving too fast to grasp. Borros was dead. Floris was dead.
“I-” she began, but no words came. She glanced toward Aemond, but he remained silent, watching her intently.
Viserra sat in stunned silence after hearing the news of Borros and Floris’s deaths. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—relief, confusion, guilt—but mostly, a growing sense of dread about what might happen next.
She looked to her mother. “What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon before replying. “Borros has a son, but Rhaegar is in line for the Iron Throne. And the child you carry, has not yet been born so-”
Before Rhaenyra could say more, the doors to the council chamber burst open, and Cassandra stormed in, her eyes wild with fury. “This is all your fault!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the chamber.
Viserra stood, her hands trembling, but she held her ground. “What?”
Cassandra’s face twisted with rage as she closed the distance between them, seizing Viserra’s arm in a tight grip.
“Floris told me everything,” she spat. “I know about your affair with Aemond. I know that Rhaegar isn’t really my father’s son but his.” She pointed at Aemond with a shaking hand.
Alicent gasped, her face going pale. “What?” she shrieked, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Before Viserra could react, Aemond moved forward swiftly, his long strides bringing him to Cassandra’s side in moments.
He shoved Cassandra away from Viserra, his voice cold and commanding. “Do not lay hands upon the Princess,” he growled.
Cassandra stumbled back, but she straightened quickly, her face a mask of bitter scorn. “Come to protect your whore, how noble,” she sneered.
The room fell into stunned silence before Rhaenyra slammed her hands down on the table, her voice ringing with authority. “Enough! These are baseless accusations.”
“Baseless?” Cassandra laughed bitterly. “Floris told me that Aemond threatened to kill her. And now, she’s dead. Along with my father.”
Alicent, still reeling, stood shakily from her seat. “Why would Aemond threaten Floris?” she demanded, her voice shaking as she looked at her son.
Cassandra’s lips curled in disdain. “Because she knew about his affair with Viserra. That’s why he declined the marriage proposal. Not because he didn’t want a wife, but because he’s been laying with Viserra, cuckolding my father.”
Daemon leaned forward, his expression dark, eyes narrowed. “It still doesn’t make sense,” he said slowly.
Cassandra scoffed. “Floris tried to blackmail him. She promised to keep quiet about it in exchange for the marriage. But instead, she’s dead.”
“So, you’re saying that your sister was blackmailing a Prince of the realm?” asked Daemon.
“W-Well s-she-”
“-And she promised to keep quiet so long as she got to marry the same man, she was making accusations about?” scoffed Daemon.
“That’s not the point” muttered Cassandra.
Daemon’s lips twitched into a sneer, but before he could respond, Alicent shot to her feet, her voice tight with fury.
“What exactly are you accusing my son of?” she demanded, her voice shaking.
“Murder,” Cassandra said coldly. “Floris and my father’s deaths are his doing. He wanted my father out of the way-”
Alicent shook her head, her face pale with anger. “Impossible. Aemond hasn’t left the Red Keep in weeks. He’s attended to his duties, hasn’t he?”
Daemon nodded in agreement. “No absences from Aemond have been noted”
Cassandra’s eyes flicked back to Viserra, her expression filled with venom. “Then it was her!” she hissed. “She’s been plotting with him all along. They—”
Before she could finish, Rhaenyra stepped forward, cutting her off sharply. “Viserra has been on bed rest due to pregnancy-related sickness. She was in no condition to be involved in such matters.”
Cassandra looked around the room in disbelief, her accusations faltering as no one seemed to take her seriously.
Aemond stood resolute, his hand still resting on his sword. Alicent’s fury blazed, while Daemon’s cold calculation suggested he had already considered every angle of this situation and Rhaenyra’s unwavering defence of her daughter silenced further protest.
Finally, Cassandra’s voice broke with frustration. “This is not over,” she muttered darkly, glaring at Viserra with barely concealed hatred.
Rhaenyra nodded to the guards at the door. “Escort Lady Cassandra out.”
As the guards moved to take Cassandra, she yanked her arm from their grasp but allowed herself to be led out, her venomous gaze never leaving Viserra until the doors shut behind her.
After the meeting, Viserra barely had a moment to breathe before Rhaenyra took her by the arm and ushered her out of the council chamber. She could feel her mother’s protective grip as they moved swiftly down the corridor, her mind still reeling from Cassandra’s accusations.
"I need to return to my duties as Commander of the City Watch," Aemond said, his voice calm though his eye betrayed a glint of urgency.
“Of course” said Alicent, her tone soft but her gaze sharp.
Aemond’s departure seemed hasty, though he masked it well. Alicent watched him walk away, her eyes following his retreating form as he rushed down the hall.
A strange feeling settled in her chest. It wasn’t unusual for Aemond to be focused on his duties, but there was something different in his demeanour today—an urgency that felt...off.
As she turned to leave, a thought crept into her mind, unbidden. Cassandra’s words echoed in her ears, piercing through the layers of loyalty she had for her son. An affair with Viserra. Aemond siring a child in secret.
She shook her head as if to dispel the thought. It was impossible. Aemond was always dutiful, controlled, and reserved. He had never shown any real interest in women outside of duty or family.
Well, that wasn’t strictly true, there were those stories about him bedding a number of older widowed noble ladies, something Alicent didn’t ever want to think about or even acknowledge.
But then again-Rhaegar. Alicent frowned, remembering the bond Aemond had with the boy. He doted on the child more than she had seen him care for anyone, save perhaps Viserra herself.
No, she thought, swallowing the rising unease. Aemond wouldn’t. But the nagging doubt gnawed at her.
The way he had been unusually attached to Viserra since her marriage to Borros. The way he had looked at Cassandra today when she accused him of fathering Rhaegar.
The thought made her stomach twist. Could it be true? Could her son, the one she raised with the highest of values and the strongest of convictions, have committed such a grievous sin?
Alicent’s heart ached at the possibility, but she quickly buried the thought, trying to convince herself that it was impossible. He wouldn’t risk so much, not when he knew what was at stake.
Would he?
Alicent stood frozen in the hall for a moment, watching Aemond disappear around a corner. She shook her head once more, trying to dispel the growing unease.
She had to believe in her son’s honour. But still, doubt lingered like a shadow, casting uncertainty on everything she thought she knew.
Aemond stormed through the corridors of the Red Keep, his mind racing with fury. When he finally found Daemon in one of the shadowed alcoves, he wasted no time.
“What did you do?” Aemond hissed through clenched teeth, his violet eye burning with anger.
Daemon raised a brow, utterly unfazed by Aemond’s fury. He tilted his head slightly, his expression cool and indifferent. “I did what needed to be done,” he said in that casual, almost mocking tone. “Borros is gone, just like we agreed.”
Aemond’s jaw tightened, his fury barely contained. “The plan was to get rid of Borros, not his daughter”
Daemon merely shrugged, as though the death of Floris was a trivial afterthought. “Two stags, one arrow,” he said nonchalantly. “Floris knew too much. If you want something done right, Aemond, you have to remove all the loose ends.”
Aemond’s fists clenched. "But she's told Cassandra everything," he growled, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You can't exactly get rid of her without raising even more suspicion."
Daemon laughed, a dark sound that echoed off the stone walls. “Stop being such a green boy. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to get rid of a nuisance or two, and it won’t be the last.”
Aemond narrowed his eye, his frustration mounting. "What about the men you sent?" His voice dripped with venom.
Daemon smiled wickedly, cleaning the dirt from under his nails as if the subject didn’t matter. “Caraxes has been well fed. Can't have them talking, can we?”
Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest. "And what are we going to do about Cassandra?"
Daemon straightened, a sly grin pulling at his lips. “Cassandra can be dealt with in another way. We offer her something better—Storm’s End itself. Rhaenyra could aid her in finding a suitable husband to rule alongside her as Consort. Any children she bears will have the chance to inherit, rather than Viserra’s”
Aemond’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?" His tone was laced with sarcasm and frustration.
Daemon chuckled; his eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous confidence. “Someone has to, don’t they?” He stepped back slightly and tilted his head, giving Aemond a once-over. “If you were any kind of man, you’d have slit that fat oaf’s throat many moons ago.”
Aemond’s gaze darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "So could you," he shot back, his voice like steel.
Daemon smirked, unbothered by the tension. “What’s done is done,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now we play our parts, and in a few months, it’ll all blow over. You’ll be free to marry Viserra, and no one will question it.”
Aemond’s eye flickered, his mind racing. "And Rhaenyra? How much does she know?"
Daemon’s grin widened as he took a step back. “She knows as much as she needs to know. Leave it to her to handle the rest.”
Aemond’s brow furrowed, concern gnawing at him. “And Viserra?”
Daemon paused, meeting Aemond’s gaze with a slight smirk. “That’s up to you. You tell her what you want. Just be sure you play your role well, and everything will fall into place.” He gave Aemond a final glance, then turned, striding off down the corridor with his usual air of confidence.
Aemond approached Viserra’s chambers, his footsteps almost silent against the stone floor. As he neared the door, he noticed it was slightly ajar, and the soft murmur of voices reached his ears.
He paused, his hand hovering just above the doorframe as he heard Rhaenyra’s voice, low and serious, filtering through the narrow opening.
“-Daemon’s plan, and by extension, Aemond’s,” Rhaenyra was saying, her tone laden with a mix of frustration and resignation. “Initially, Floris wasn’t part of it, but there’s nothing that can be done now. As Queen, I will do everything in my power to keep any scandalous news quiet. If they had consulted me first, I could have offered another solution, but as always, Daemon acts first and thinks later.”
Aemond felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He knew he shouldn’t be listening, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Rhaenyra continued, her voice carrying a tone of warning. “You must appear as the grieving widow, Viserra, but you must keep your distance from Aemond. It may be for the best that you take Rhaegar and spend a few weeks on Dragonstone”
“Shouldn’t I attend the funerals?” asked Viserra.
“No-I can say that you have gone to Dragonstone for your health and that of the babe you carry” replied Rhaenyra.
“Ok” muttered Viserra.
“There will also be questions over the succession of Storm’s End. Rhaegar is Borros’ son in the eyes of the realm, but he’s also the future heir to the Iron Throne, and too young to rule. As Borros’s widow, Storm’s End could potentially fall into your hands. You could rule as its regent until the babe you carry comes of age.”
Viserra’s voice was soft but firm. “I don’t want it.”
Rhaenyra sighed, a note of empathy in her voice. “Then we give it to Cassandra in exchange for her silence.”
There was a pause, and then Viserra’s quiet agreement. “Yes, that would be best.”
Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he heard the rustle of movement within the room. He stepped back slightly as Rhaenyra moved toward the door, her footsteps approaching.
The door swung open, and Rhaenyra’s eyes immediately met Aemond’s. She didn’t seem surprised to see him there, leaning against the wall, his face an unreadable mask.
Rhaenyra regarded him with a stern gaze. “Next time you have a problem, Aemond, consult with me first—not my husband.”
Aemond clenched his jaw, giving a curt nod. Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly as she turned back to Viserra, who remained seated inside the room.
“I will allow you one last night together,” she said, her tone gentler now. “But on the morrow, you will take Rhaegar to Dragonstone, and you will both keep your distance for a few weeks.”
With that, Rhaenyra turned and walked away, Aemond watched his half-sister until she disappeared down the corridor, then he slowly entered Viserra’s chambers, closing the door behind him.
Viserra sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, eyes downcast. Aemond crossed the room in a few quick strides, his heart aching as he knelt before her, taking her hands in his.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret.
Viserra was silent, her expression unreadable as she looked down at him.
The silence stretched between them, and Aemond’s worry grew. Was she ashamed of him? Angry for his part in what had happened to Borros and Floris?
The thought gnawed at him, and he feared he had lost her in more ways than one.
But then, without a word, Viserra reached out and removed his eyepatch. The sapphire that had taken the place of his lost eye glinted in the light.
Viserra’s fingers were gentle as they brushed over the scarred skin around his eye, and she cupped the side of his face tenderly.
Aemond leaned into her touch, his breath hitching as her warmth seeped into him. It was a simple gesture, but it was everything to him—her acceptance, her understanding, her love. The fears that had plagued him moments ago began to ebb away.
“You could have told me,” Viserra said softly, her voice steady and calm.
Aemond’s gaze met hers, and he swallowed hard. “I didn’t exactly know the details myself,” he admitted. “Daemon just said that he’d take care of it”
Viserra nodded, her thumb tracing the line of his scar. “Typical behaviour from my father, but it’s done now.”
There was no anger in her voice, no accusation—only a quiet resignation that made his heart ache even more.
She understood the world they lived in, the decisions they had to make, even if those decisions were brutal and unforgiving. She understood him.
Viserra leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Aemond responded immediately, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her closer.
They broke the kiss, their foreheads resting against one another, breaths mingling as they savoured the closeness.
“We only have the night together,” Viserra whispered, her voice a mixture of sorrow and determination. “I say we make the most of it and you fuck me just the way I like it"”
Aemond nodded eagerly, his lips pressing against hers.
The morning was cool, with a gentle breeze blowing across the grassy meadow as Viserra stood next to Vermithor, her bronze-scaled dragon, ready to depart.
Rhaegar clutched her hand tightly, his young face filled with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.
Viserra looked down at him, her heart heavy with the thought of leaving behind everything she knew, even if only for a short time.
Her mother approached, her regal demeanour softening as she pulled Viserra into a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself, my daughter," Rhaenyra whispered. "And know that you are loved."
Viserra hugged her mother back, drawing strength from her warmth. "I will, Mother. Thank you."
Next, she turned to her father, who stood with a smirk playing on his lips. As they embraced, Viserra leaned in close, whispering a quiet "Thank you" into his ear.
Daemon’s smirk widened into a grin, his voice a low rumble. "Anything for you, daughter," he replied, his tone affectionate.
Viserra pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his. "Is Mother angry with you?"
Daemon chuckled softly; the sound full of amusement.
"Just a little bit," he confessed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But I like it when Rhaenyra's angry."
Viserra couldn’t help the grimace that crossed her face at her father's insinuation, but she shook her head, smiling despite herself.
She then turned her attention to her siblings, hugging Luke and Rhaena tightly. "Take care of each other," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Viserra turned to Helaena and smiled as she embraced her.
"We’ll see each other soon," said Helaena, her calm demeanour reassuring.
To her surprise, Aegon was there, standing with a smile on his face, and despite the fact that he absolutely reeked of wine, Viserra hugged him.
"Look after Aemond," she told Aegon, her voice tinged with a seriousness that belied her usual interactions with him.
Aegon chuckled, shaking his head. "I will," he promised.
Viserra narrowed her eyes playfully. "And when I say look after him, I don’t mean taking him to brothels."
Aegon laughed, the sound hearty and full of mischief. "Spoil sport"
Kneeling down to Rhaegar's level, Aegon produced a small, carved dragon from his pocket, passing it to the boy.
Rhaegar's eyes lit up as he examined the toy. "Vhagar," he whispered, recognizing the dragon it represented.
Aegon leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "From your Kepa" (Father).
Rhaegar nodded solemnly, clutching the dragon to his chest as if it were a precious treasure.
Viserra took a deep breath, knowing it was time. "It’s time to get going," she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.
Rhaenyra offered one last reassurance. "There are many on Dragonstone who will ensure you and Rhaegar are well looked after. And there’s a Maester—he’s no Gerardys, but he’s skilled enough."
Viserra nodded, appreciating her mother’s concern, but her thoughts were already turning to the journey ahead.
She lifted Rhaegar into her arms, instructing him to hold on tight as she began to climb the ladder attached to Vermithor’s saddle.
Once seated, she secured them both with the straps, ensuring Rhaegar was safely nestled in front of her. His little dragon, Karnax, landed on her shoulder, his claws digging into her riding leathers for stability.
Viserra allowed herself one final glance at the Red Keep, her thoughts lingering on Aemond.
They had decided it was for the best that he not come to bid her farewell, so their goodbyes had been said in the privacy of her chambers that morning.
She gave Vermithor the command to fly, her voice firm despite the sadness that tugged at her heart.
With a powerful beat of his massive wings, Vermithor lifted from the ground, the world below shrinking as they ascended into the sky.
Over the next week, Aemond found himself grappling with an unfamiliar emptiness that gnawed at him relentlessly.
Viserra and Rhaegar's absence left a void that he couldn’t seem to fill, no matter how many hours he dedicated to his duties and despite his efforts, the agitation simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.
He snapped at his men for the smallest infractions, his patience worn thin by the ache of loss that weighed on him.
Every training session with the sword felt hollow, every council meeting dragged on endlessly, and every duty he performed felt like a chore without purpose.
The familiar corridors of the Red Keep, which once seemed to pulse with life, now felt oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him.
Rhaenyra and Daemon’s departure for Storm’s End only worsened his mood. They had gone to attend the joint funerals of Borros and Floris, a sombre affair that Aemond had no desire to be part of.
He knew whispers had circulated regarding Viserra’s absence from the proceedings, but they had been swiftly silenced, likely due to Daemon’s presence—and the shadows of Caraxes and Syrax.
On his patrols, Aemond often found himself drawn to the edge of the city, where he would gaze out across Blackwater Bay, the vast expanse of water stretching toward Dragonstone.
He wondered how Viserra and Rhaegar were faring, whether they were safe, whether they missed him as much as he missed them.
The thought of them on that distant isle, away from the intrigues and dangers of King’s Landing, should have brought him some measure of peace. But it didn’t.
Without Viserra, the days blurred together in a monotonous haze. She had been a constant presence in his life for the last four years, and without her, it felt as though a huge hole had been punched through his chest, leaving him raw and exposed.
In the dead of night, when the city was quiet and his duties were done, Aemond would return to his chambers, the solitude pressing down on him like a suffocating weight.
He would pace the floor, restless and tense, his thoughts always circling back to her.
He would lay in bed at night, his eye closed as he remembered their last night together, and how he made her peak using his tongue, fingers and cock.
He had her many times that night, fucking her into a blissed out state of exhaustion.
It was a good job that she was already with child as no doubt given the amount of times he spilled his seed inside her that night it would have surely taken root.
Just thinking about her aroused him and in his desperation he would fuck his fist or resort to humping the sheets, quickly spilling is seed like a green boy.
He missed the sound of her voice, the feel of her beside him, the way she would hold him against her breasts and stroke his hair as she whispered words of love to him.
She had seen his vulnerability and never judged him for it.
There were times when they would simply lie naked next to one another, and she would listen as he told her of his inner turmoil.
Other times where he would be in pain from his missing eye, or his scar woud get irritated from the dry air and she would take care of him.
Then there were times where she would kneel beside him as he bathed and she would rub oils into his hair, then she would brush and braid it for him, whispering how beautiful he was, and how much she loved him.
It was in these moments, alone with his thoughts, that Aemond realized just how deeply Viserra had rooted herself in his heart.
And Rhaegar, his little dragon. He missed the feeling of holding his son in his arms and the way he would giggle as he tickled him, he missed the sound of Rhaegar’s soft snores when he would fall asleep as he read to him at bedtime.
He missed his sons cheeky smile when he managed to steal an extra slice of cake, and he even missed the tantrums he would throw whenever the dragon keepers tried to take Karnax to the dragon pit.
He was a father without his child, and a husband without his wife.
Their absence was not just a temporary separation; it was a reminder of how much they had come to mean to him, how integral they had become to his very being.
And that knowledge only made the ache worse and as the days passed, the unease within him grew.
But all he could do was wait—wait for the day when he would see them again, when the hole in his chest might finally start to heal.
Until then, Aemond knew he would continue to be haunted by the emptiness that now defined his days.
The next day, Aegon opened the door to Aemond’s chambers and found his brother pacing restlessly, his usual composure fractured by the tension that had gripped him since Viserra and Rhaegar’s departure.
Taking a deep breath Aegon walked into Aemond’s chambers, determined to drag him out of his sour mood, even if it meant enduring his sharp tongue.
"Come on, Aemond," Aegon started, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve got to lighten up a little”
“Why do you care” snapped Aemond.
“Because Viserra told me to look after you, and even though you’re a massive twat with a really punchable face, I intend to keep my promise."
Aemond scoffed as he stripped off his armour and gold cloak, tossing them aside carelessly.
With a heavy sigh, he threw himself into an armchair, his exhaustion and frustration evident in the tense set of his shoulders.
"You know. A good fuck would sort you right out” Aegon teased, though he didn’t expect the glare Aemond shot his way.
"-I was just kidding" muttered Aegon throwing his hands up in mock surrender.
Aemond leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. His voice, when he spoke, was raw with emotion. "It’s only been just over a week, and I’m already going mad. I just-I miss Viserra and Rhaegar so much."
Aegon’s teasing demeanour softened. Despite all his jests and jabs, he knew his brother's feelings for Viserra ran deep.
"Surely it won’t be too long before she can return to the Red Keep. Rhaenyra just needs to handle the situation with Cassandra"
Aemond sighed again, his worry etched into every line of his face. "I know, but Viserra has only just recovered from her sickness. What if she gets ill again on Dragonstone? What if something happens to her or Rhaegar while they’re there?"
Aegon rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of affection in the gesture. "They have a Maester on Dragonstone. You really need to relax and stop being so annoying. Viserra and Rhaegar will be back soon enough. And when enough time has passed, the two of you can get married properly. Then maybe you’ll finally get that sour expression off your face and stop acting like a girl."
Aemond finally lifted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite himself. "You’re impossible"
"And you’re unbearable when you’re like this," Aegon shot back, though his tone was light. "But seriously, brother, stop worrying so much. Viserra is strong. She’ll be back, and when she is, you’ll have her by your side again. Until then, stop acting like the world’s ending."
Aemond sighed but nodded, knowing Aegon was right, even if it didn’t ease the ache in his chest.
The days would be long and hard without Viserra, but he would endure them as he always had—with steel in his spine and a single-minded focus on what mattered most.
But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t count every minute until he saw her again.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x oc#aemond#prince aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aegon ii#kcktfics
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Scorched Hearts XXI
Summary:
'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'
Jaehaerys is plagued by guilt but then recieves comfort from an unlikely source.
Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Violence, Guilt, Remorse, Fear, Uncle/Niece Incest, Mention of Brother/Sister Incest.
AEMOND x O.C Niece
Word Count: 8550
A.N - Used Young Aemond as Face Claim for Rhaegar..
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx
Jaehaerys lurched awake with a strangled gasp, his body drenched in cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat like the heavy thud of a war drum.
His breath came in ragged gasps, and his limbs felt heavy, as if the weight of the dream still clung to him, suffocating him with its intensity.
Valaena's screams echoed in his ears, a haunting, call that seemed to reverberate through his mind, pulling him deeper into a panic he couldn’t escape.
What did I do? What have I done?
His thoughts screamed as he frantically rubbed his face, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
The overwhelming fear surged through him—his heart pounding in his throat, his chest tight as if the air itself had become too thick to breathe.
His eyes darted around the room, wild with panic.
I didn't mean to—how could I?
His thoughts spiralled, faster and faster, as his head pounded with the realization of what he thought he had done.
A wave of nausea hit him, and his stomach turned over.
It wasn’t real. It can’t be real.
But even as the words whispered in his mind, a cold shiver of doubt ran down his spine.
He grabbed his head, feeling the pressure building in his temples. His heart still raced, threatening to burst from his chest, and his hands trembled violently.
Was it real? Had he-had he crossed a line?
Gods, no, no!
He could feel the weight of it pressing in on him, suffocating him with dread.
It had felt so vivid, so real, like he had actually been there, standing in her chambers—like he'd done things he could never undo. His breath hitched as the fear gripped him tighter.
It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. I didn’t mean to hurt her.
Panic surged again, a tidal wave crashing over him as his mind replayed the dream in fragments. He couldn’t even process it all.
Valaena, her voice, her warmth, the desire that had sparked within him so suddenly—he was terrified of what it meant, the panic in her eyes, and the way she struggled against him as he held her down and forced himself upon her.
The guilt, the fear, the confusion—how could he have let himself do that? How could he have hurt her?
Jaehaerys curled in on himself, knees pulled to his chest as if trying to protect himself from the overwhelming terror.
His hands trembled, and his body felt unsteady, like the ground beneath him might give way at any moment.
Aemond was going to come for him. He was sure of it. There was no other explanation.
His uncle had threatened him, his voice cold and lethal, warning him to stay away from Valaena.
He had crossed a line—he knew he had. And now, Aemond would make him pay for it.
He’s going to kill me.
The thought kept repeating itself in his mind, over and over, like an unshakable chant. Jaehaerys couldn’t push it away.
His stomach churned, and his breath came in shallow gasps, as though the very air was too thick to breathe.
The weight of his fear felt unbearable, suffocating.
The memory of Aemond’s glare, dark and filled with an intensity that made Jaehaerys shiver, haunted him.
He could still feel the burn of it, still see his uncle standing there, unmoving, like a predator waiting to strike.
And the worst part was that Jaehaerys didn’t know how to stop it, didn’t know how to take back what he had done. His mind raced with thoughts of how Aemond might come for him, what kind of death he might face.
What if he comes here tonight? What if he sneaks in through the shadows and ends it all?
Jaehaerys stood suddenly, his heart skipping a beat at the thought.
He couldn't stay here. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him in a way that made his head spin.
He stumbled toward the door, the fear in him growing like a storm threatening to break. He had to escape.
He had to get away before Aemond found him.
His legs were shaky, unsteady as if they were betraying him, but he pushed himself forward anyway. His fingers grazed the door handle, but before he could open it, he froze, hearing the distant sound of footsteps.
Aemond.
It’s over. He’s coming to kill me.
Jaehaerys’ breath hitched as the sound of the footsteps grew louder, closer, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
He quickly pressed his back against the door, trying to steady himself, but his hands were slick with nervousness, his heart thudding in his chest.
I’m not ready for this.
His thoughts scrambled in a panic. The tension in his body coiled tighter, like a string pulled too taut.
The door creaked slightly, and Jaehaerys’ breath caught in his throat. His mind raced, and he spun around, unsure whether to fight or flee.
His body was frozen in place, rooted to the spot by a fear that held him captive. Aemond was close, closer than ever, and Jaehaerys couldn’t stop the torrent of fear that overwhelmed him.
The footsteps stopped outside his door. Jaehaerys could hear his heart in his ears now, louder than anything else, drowning out all other sounds. The seconds stretched into an eternity.
This is it. I’m done.
He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the panic, but it felt impossible. His hands shook violently, his pulse erratic.
Please don’t let him come in. Please don’t let this be the end.
The door handle shifted, just slightly, as if someone was testing it. Aemond, no doubt. The thought sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through Jaehaerys' veins.
He was sure of it now—Aemond was coming for him, and there would be no mercy.
The door creaked open just a little more, and Jaehaerys’ chest tightened. He felt like he was going to collapse under the weight of his fear.
Then, the door was yanked open, and Jaehaerys nearly collapsed in shock.
But instead of Aemond, it was Ser Willis, his loyal protector, standing in the doorway, his face a mask of confusion.
"I thought-" Jaehaerys gasped, his voice barely more than a whimper. He could feel his stomach churning as his mind struggled to make sense of the chaos swirling inside him. "I thought he was coming for me. I thought Aemond-was going to kill me."
His eyes were wide with fear, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t stop the tears that burned in his eyes. His entire body trembled, as if a thousand cold hands had grabbed hold of him, squeezing him tight.
Ser Willis, standing in the doorway, frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. His gaze softened slightly as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. "Your uncle, my Prince? Why would he come after you?"
Jaehaerys’ breath caught in his chest as he tried to make sense of the words, but his head was spinning too fast. He couldn’t think straight.
Aemond’s going to kill me. He’ll make me pay for what I’ve done. I couldn’t stop myself.
"He warned me," Jaehaerys gasped, his words spilling out in a frantic rush. "He told me to stay away from Valaena. But I couldn’t-I couldn’t stop myself-" His voice cracked, a broken sob escaping his lips. "I-I shouldn’t have done it. I didn’t mean to-I hurt her, Willis. I hurt her. I attacked her. I-"
The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing tighter with each word, each breath. He could feel his chest tightening, suffocating him. His vision blurred, the world spinning wildly before his eyes.
Ser Willis, still unsure of what was happening, took a step forward. "What did you do, my Prince?"
Jaehaerys’ breath hitched “V-Valaena. I attacked her-I f-forced m-myself-”
He could feel his chest tightening, the bile rose in his throat.
With a strangled gasp, he lunged forward and threw up onto the floor, his body trembling violently.
The panic gnawed at him like a vicious animal.
Ser Willis stepped back, his eyes wide with shock, but he quickly rushed to his side. "My Prince, you never left your chambers last night."
Jaehaerys wiped his mouth, gasping for breath. His hands shook uncontrollably as he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, struggling to focus.
"I-I didn’t?" he muttered, his voice shaky and disoriented. His mind felt like it was unravelling.
"No, my Prince," Ser Willis said gently, his voice steady in contrast to Jaehaerys’ hysteria. "You remained in bed all night. You didn’t leave your chambers. There’s no way you could’ve-hurt her."
Jaehaerys’ eyes were wide with disbelief, his breath ragged as he tried to process the words.
I didn’t? I didn’t leave?
He staggered back, his knees weak as his mind raced. "I didn’t-I didn’t hurt her?" he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Ser Willis nodded; his expression filled with quiet reassurance. "No, my Prince. You were in your chambers. You didn’t leave. Whatever happened last night-it wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare, my Prince."
Jaehaerys’ chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. His mind struggled to make sense of everything.
The panic hadn’t faded, but the gnawing dread that had taken root was now tangled with confusion and shame.
"I-I thought it was real," Jaehaerys murmured, wiping his face again, his hands still trembling. "I thought I-I thought I-"
"Shh." Ser Willis placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his grip warm and comforting. "It was just a nightmare. You didn’t hurt anyone. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re safe, my Prince."
Jaehaerys swallowed hard, his heart still hammering in his chest. He looked up at Ser Willis, his eyes red and wide with fear. "But-but Aemond, he’s going to kill me, isn’t he? He’s going to find out, and-"
"No," Ser Willis said firmly, cutting him off. "Aemond is not going to kill you. You’ve done nothing wrong, Jaehaerys. You’ve just had a bad dream, nothing more."
Jaehaerys nodded weakly, still unable to shake the panic that clung to him. The fear was still there, lurking in the pit of his stomach, but now-now it was mixed with a strange sense of confusion. He wasn’t sure what was real anymore, and the feeling of being trapped in his own mind was almost too much to bear.
"I didn’t leave my chambers-" Jaehaerys repeated softly, his voice trembling. "It was all in my head-I didn’t hurt her-I didn’t-"
Ser Willis nodded, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "No, my Prince. You’re safe. Just breathe, Jaehaerys. It’s over."
But even as Ser Willis spoke, Jaehaerys couldn't shake the terror from his bones. His world felt like it was tilting, and the shadow of Aemond’s threat still loomed over him like an ever-present nightmare.
He could still feel Valaena, he could still hear her screams.
The fear was real, and it was crushing him from the inside out.
Jaehaerys pressed himself deeper into the shadows, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Ser Willis’s repeated assurances that what had happened was just a bad dream hadn’t settled the fear gnawing at him.
He couldn’t shake the terror, the vividness of it all. His mind kept replaying the images of that night—Valaena, his actions, the helplessness he had felt.
He couldn’t rest until he knew the truth, until he could see with his own eyes that nothing had happened.
He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was nearby. The corridor was quiet, save for the distant chatter of people moving down the hall. He saw his twin sister Jaehaera pass by with their grandmother, Alicent, deep in conversation.
Jaehaerys recoiled into the shadows, avoiding them.
They wouldn’t understand. His mother—his dear, sweet mother—would never forgive him for what he thought he had done.
And his sister, his beautiful sister-gods she would surely turn from him.
The shame, the disgust, would surely consume them all.
What if I have ruined everything?
The thought kept swirling in his mind, heavy and suffocating. He couldn’t even look at his family, let alone face Valaena after what he had done. He had defiled her—the future Queen—and now he would be cast out.
I could run, he thought suddenly. I could take Shrykos and disappear. Fly across the Narrow Sea, never to be seen again.
But then another thought came to him: Or I could face the consequences. Be a man and accept whatever punishment comes my way.
The bile rose in his throat again as he took a few unsteady steps into the corridor. He couldn’t shake the fear—his heart hammered in his chest.
Suddenly, his worst nightmare stepped into the corridor.
Aemond.
Jaehaerys froze. His blood ran cold, and panic gripped his chest like a vice.
This is it. I’m dead. He’s going to kill me.
His feet stumbled back, his body pressing against the cold stone wall, trying to retreat from his uncle’s approach.
Aemond’s presence felt like an unrelenting storm, and Jaehaerys could do nothing but tremble, his entire body shaking as he slowly slid down the wall, landing with a thud on the floor.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but wait for Aemond to strike. His heart raced, and the terror that had already been bubbling in his chest exploded in a wave of panic.
Then, a shadow loomed over him.
"Jaehaerys?" The voice was calm, gentle—too gentle.
He looked up, and to his shock, saw Valaena standing before him, her face a mix of concern and confusion. His resolve broke instantly.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He choked out, lurching forward and wrapping his arms around her legs, burying his face against her. "I didn’t mean to-I swear I didn’t-I hurt you—"
Valaena looked down at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "What’s wrong, Jaehaerys?" she asked softly.
Jaehaerys gasped for air, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I hurt you-I-I didn’t mean to-I swear-I swear I didn’t mean to-" His body shook violently as he tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.
The guilt and shame crushed him from the inside out.
Aemond, who had stopped next to Valaena, frowned, his brows furrowing with concern. "What’s going on here?" he asked, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of confusion.
Jaehaerys, still on the floor, lifted his head and pushed himself to his knees. His hands were shaking violently, and his voice trembled as he spoke.
"Go ahead, Uncle-I accept my punishment. I deserve it."
Aemond blinked, utterly confused. "Punishment? For what?"
Jaehaerys’ eyes were wide with panic, his voice rising in pitch as he stumbled over his words. "I hurt her! I hurt her-I attacked her. She said no, and I-I didn’t mean to, but I-I didn’t stop-" His body was trembling uncontrollably now, his breathing erratic.
Aemond stood there for a moment, his confusion mounting. "What are you talking about, Jaehaerys?" His tone was sharp, but there was a flicker of concern beneath the anger. "What did you do?"
"I-I hurt her, Aemond! I did, I-" Jaehaerys sobbed, his voice breaking under the weight of his own terror.
Valaena, still standing, looked at Aemond, her brows furrowing. "I think-I think we should get Helaena," she suggested quietly, worried about the hysterical state Jaehaerys was in.
Jaehaerys’ eyes went wide, panic overtaking him again. "No! Not my mother, please!" His voice was a desperate plea, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his face.
Aemond, whose expression had shifted from confusion to something deeper, stepped forward and knelt beside Jaehaerys. He looked up at him, his voice low but firm. "Come with me, nephew," Aemond said quietly. "We need to talk."
Jaehaerys hesitated, the fear still clouding his mind, but then Valaena, who had been standing helplessly to the side, placed a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost soothing. "It’s okay, Jaehaerys. I think you just need someone to talk to. Aemond will help you."
Jaehaerys nodded shakily as he rose to his feet, still unsure of what was happening.
But before he could fully comprehend it, his arms shot forward and he wrapped himself around Valaena in a tight hug, his body still trembling violently. "I’m so sorry, Valaena-I didn’t mean to hurt you-Please-"
Valaena, taken off guard, awkwardly patted his back. "I’m fine-really. It’s okay," she said softly, trying to comfort him despite her own confusion about the situation.
Aemond, now watching the scene with a mixture of concern and confusion, said in a quieter tone, "Come, nephew. Let us talk."
Jaehaerys slowly released Valaena, standing up unsteadily, but still shaking. Valaena remained standing there, watching him with a perplexed expression on her face, her confusion written across her features.
Jaehaerys glanced over his shoulder at her before following Aemond down the corridor, the weight of his fear still pressing on his chest.
Aemond led Jaehaerys through the silent pathways of the Red Keep, his pace measured and his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
They emerged into the gods wood, the ancient weirwood tree standing stark and pale against the sky.
Aemond stopped beneath its branches, turning to face his nephew. His gloved hands gripped the hilt of his sword as he studied Jaehaerys with his single sharp eye.
"So," Aemond began, his voice calm but firm, "-do you want to tell me what all that was about back there?"
Jaehaerys hesitated, the urge to lie flickering briefly in his mind. But he knew better.
Aemond would see through any falsehoods, and besides, the weight of his guilt was too much to bear. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jaehaerys spoke.
"I-I fear that I attacked Valaena," he confessed, his voice trembling, he could feel the bile rising again at the thought of what he thought he had done.
Aemond tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "You didn’t attack my wife," he said evenly.
Jaehaerys stepped forward, his desperation evident. "Are you sure? I-It felt so real. I can still hear her screaming, telling me to stop-"
Aemond shook his head. "I can assure you, nephew, that you did not attack my wife."
"But-but are you sure?" Jaehaerys pressed, his voice cracking.
Aemond’s expression remained firm as he answered, "I am fairly sure. Besides if you had attacked my wife-” His tone darkened, the faintest edge of threat colouring his words. "-You’d already be dead."
The blunt statement sent a chill through Jaehaerys, but he couldn’t shake his unease. "It just felt so real," he murmured, his voice breaking. "The thought of hurting her that way-it makes me feel sick." His breath quickened, panic overtaking him as he buried his face in his hands. "W-What’s wrong with m-me? H-How c-could I?"
Seeing his nephew on the verge of hysteria, Aemond’s expression softened. He stepped forward and pulled Jaehaerys into a firm embrace.
Jaehaerys struggled for a moment, but the weight of his emotions overtook him, and he collapsed against his uncle, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Shhhh-" Aemond murmured, his voice low and steady. "It’s okay. It sounds like it just a bad dream, nothing more."
"I’ll leave," Jaehaerys gasped between sobs. "I’ll go to Oldtown-or maybe Driftmark with Jace and Baela. I can’t stay here."
Aemond pulled back slightly, his hands resting firmly on Jaehaerys’ shoulders. "Why would you do such a foolish thing?"
Jaehaerys wiped his eyes, his breathing ragged. "Because I can’t look Valaena in the face. It may have been a dream, but it terrified me—that I could-that I might-" His words trailed off, his guilt and fear evident.
Aemond cupped Jaehaerys’ face with both hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "I do not believe you capable of such a thing. You have your mother’s gentle heart, Jaehaerys. And you’re not going anywhere."
"But-but you said that if I ever looked at Valaena, you’d skin me alive and feed my body to Vhagar," Jaehaerys stammered.
Aemond exhaled heavily, his expression shifting. "Look, I admit I may have gone overboard with my threats. I love my wife very much, and I’m possessive of that love. Growing up, I didn’t have much of it, and there are days I still fear losing what I have."
"Father once told me that my Grandsire didn’t like him," Jaehaerys murmured.
Aemond huffed softly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Good King Viserys cared more about his precious Rhaenyra than any of us. We were nothing more than afterthoughts. Growing up like that wasn’t easy."
"And Valaena?" Jaehaerys asked hesitantly.
Aemond’s expression softened, his gaze distant. "Valaena showed me love. She taught me it wasn’t a weakness but a strength. She made me feel valued, appreciated-wanted." He looked back at Jaehaerys, his voice steady.
Jaehaerys shook his head. "I’m sorry that I-that I like her. I try not to-"
"It’s okay," Aemond said simply.
"Maybe if I put effort into finding a wife, I’d forget about her," Jaehaerys suggested hesitantly.
Aemond smirked faintly. "Perhaps. But don’t push yourself into something you’re not ready for."
Jaehaerys managed a small smile. "You give good advice. Maybe I should come to you instead of my Father."
Aemond chuckled, the tension between them easing. "Going to Aegon for advice is like asking Daemon for eyebrow maintenance."
Jaehaerys blinked, then burst into laughter. "But Daemon doesn’t have eyebrows!"
"Exactly," Aemond said with a rare grin.
As Jaehaerys’ laughter subsided, Aemond’s expression turned thoughtful. "Speaking of Aegon’s great advice. Your visits to the brothel-are you being safe?"
Jaehaerys flushed but nodded quickly. "Yes. I don’t finish inside."
"Good," Aemond replied, nodding approvingly.
Jaehaerys hesitated before adding, "When I told Valaena about it, she said the name Sylvi was familiar to her."
Aemond sighed deeply. "Because of me. Sylvi was my first. I was taken to the brothel on my thirteenth name day."
"It was Father, wasn’t it?" Jaehaerys asked quietly.
Aemond nodded. "Yes. He said it his duty to ensure that I was as educated as he was."
Jaehaerys wrinkled his nose. "I always thought Valaena was your first."
"She should have been," Aemond admitted. "But she wasn’t."
Jaehaerys shifted uncomfortably. "The woman I see at the brothel—her name is Marra. But she wasn’t my first either. It-it was Jaehaera."
Aemond raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Does anyone else know?"
Jaehaerys shook his head. "No. Jaehaera seems like she doesn’t want to get married, but she wanted to experience the touch of a man, and I offered—"
Aemond held up a hand. "I get it. I just don’t want to hear about it."
Jaehaerys nodded quickly, his cheeks flushing. "I also-um-laid with one of my maids, but Grandmother found out and sent her away."
Aemond sighed, shaking his head. "That’s why you should be more discreet."
"Thank you, Uncle," Jaehaerys said earnestly. "For everything."
"You’re welcome," Aemond replied, clapping a hand on Jaehaerys’ shoulder. "Now, let’s head back. I don’t want my wife thinking I’ve done away with you."
Jaehaerys hesitated, then asked shyly, "Do you think-Shrykos and I could accompany you and Vhagar sometime?"
Aemond smiled faintly. "I would like that. And I promise, Vhagar will not devour you."
"Good to know," Jaehaerys said with a nervous laugh.
Together, they turned back toward the Red Keep, the tension between them finally eased.
A few days later, Jaehaerys hovered awkwardly in the doorway of Aemond and Valaena’s chambers, shifting from foot to foot.
His gaze darted around the room; his nerves plainly visible in the way he wrung his hands. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and the soft crackle of a hearth fire filled the silence.
The chambers looked so different from how they had appeared in his dream — warmer, brighter, more alive. It eased his anxiety, but only a little.
"You can come in, Jaehaerys," Valaena said gently as she approached, carrying one of her twins in her arms. Her tone was soft but firm, like she was coaxing a skittish animal.
Jaehaerys blinked and nodded, slowly stepping inside. His eyes darted around, lingering on the tapestries, the neatly folded blankets, and the cradle near the hearth.
It all felt so ordinary, so safe — and yet, a lingering unease still clung to his heart.
"Looking forward to flying with Aemond?" Valaena asked, her voice light as she adjusted Vaelarra on her hip. "I hear your father invited himself along."
Jaehaerys managed a small, sheepish smile. "Yes-and you know my father. He doesn’t like being left out of anything."
Valaena snorted, amused. "As always." She glanced toward the cot, hearing a soft stirring from within. Her other child, Vhalarr, had woken. "Oh, would you mind holding her for a moment? Vhalarr’s waking up."
"Uh—" Jaehaerys started to protest, but Valaena had already moved forward and placed Vaelarra into his arms. His breath caught in his chest; arms stiff as if he were afraid to drop her.
But slowly, instinct took over, and he shifted his hold, supporting her head the way he’d seen others do.
Vaelarra gazed up at him with wide, violet eyes — so calm, so watchful. She didn’t cry, didn’t fuss, only blinked as if she were studying him.
"You're honoured, you know," Valaena said with a glance over her shoulder as she scooped up Vhalarr from the cot. She rocked him gently, patting his back with practiced ease. "Usually, she screams at everyone except me, Aemond, or Rhaegar."
Jaehaerys looked down at Vaelarra, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling against his tunic. A smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe I’m just good with children."
"You could be right," Valaena replied, swaying slightly as she settled Vhalarr against her shoulder. "No doubt you’ll make a fine father one day."
Jaehaerys chuckled softly. "I’d have to find a wife first."
Valaena glanced at him knowingly. "What about Jaehaera?"
Jaehaerys froze. His heart thudded in his chest as panic flickered in his eyes.
Had Aemond told her? Did she know?
Valaena turned back to him, one brow raised as if reading his mind. "I notice more than people realize," she said casually. "I see the way she looks at you, and the way you look at her when you think no one else is watching."
"She’s my—" Jaehaerys stammered, his throat suddenly dry.
Valaena tilted her head. "Like that’s ever stopped anyone in this family. You know our customs as well as I do, I’m married to our uncle after all-"
"I know," Jaehaerys muttered, glancing down at Vaelarra. "But shouldn’t I marry outside the family? Form alliances, strengthen House Targaryen, all that nonsense?"
"Not necessarily," Valaena replied, gently rubbing Vhalarr’s back. "What’s to be gained from such a match? Besides, the Queen gave you leave to choose your own bride."
"Jaehaera doesn’t want to marry, though," Jaehaerys pointed out, his brow furrowing. "She’s said as much before."
"Has she told you that directly," Valaena asked, "or have you simply assumed?"
Jaehaerys opened his mouth to reply but stopped, frowning. "Well-she mentioned not being keen on the idea of marriage, but—"
"Maybe she was only saying it because she thought it’s what you wanted to hear," Valaena suggested, her eyes sharp with insight.
Jaehaerys blinked, her words sinking in like stones falling to the bottom of a pond. It made sense, but the realization filled him with a strange, twisting feeling in his gut. He glanced down at Vaelarra, his heart suddenly heavier.
Was that really it? Had he misunderstood Jaehaera all this time?
Before he could linger on it, Valaena smiled at him. "Or," she added softly, "perhaps it’s best not to push yourself into it until you’re ready."
Jaehaerys looked up at her, surprised. "Uncle Aemond said the same thing."
"Sometimes," Valaena said with a small grin, "Aemond gives good advice."
Jaehaerys huffed a short laugh, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. "Perhaps I should have come to him for advice from the start. Maybe then—"
"I’m flattered, you know," Valaena said suddenly, turning toward him fully, her expression open but kind. "That you find me appealing-"
Jaehaerys froze, his heart thudding painfully. "I—" he stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment.
"But," she said gently, "I love my husband far too much to even entertain the idea of another." Her words were kind but firm, as unyielding as steel wrapped in silk.
Jaehaerys took a deep breath and nodded, the sting of rejection softened by the warmth in her tone. "I-I’m sorry for— I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Or any other lady. Not like that, never like that-"
"I know," Valaena said simply, meeting his eyes with unwavering certainty.
Jaehaerys looked down at Vaelarra. "But my mother, she dreams things. And sometimes, they come true. What if— what if—"
"Your mother does indeed possess a rare gift," Valaena said gently, her voice steady as she walked toward him. "But that doesn’t mean what you dreamt will come to pass."
"Do you really believe that?" he asked, his voice small.
Valaena cupped the side of his face, her gaze warm but firm. "I do. You’re a good boy, Jaehaerys."
His breath hitched, and he went quiet for a moment, his mind oddly still. Then, the sound of boots echoed behind them.
Both of them turned as Aemond strode in, his one eye flicking briefly to Valaena and then to Jaehaerys.
"It’s time to go," Aemond declared, his commanding presence filling the room. "I’ve sent word to the dragon keepers. Shrykos and Sunfyre are being prepared for flight."
Jaehaerys glanced at Vaelarra, the tiny girl still gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. Gently, he laid her down in her cot, brushing his fingers over the fine strands of silver hair on her head.
For a moment, his thoughts drifted to Jaehaera, and something inside him stirred.
What would it be like to see Jaehaera carrying his child?
The thought bloomed unbidden, filling him with warmth — and something close to fear.
He shook the thought from his head, turning to bid farewell to Valaena. "Goodbye, Auntie-" he said, offering her a small but genuine smile.
Aemond pressed a quick kiss to his wife’s lips, his hand resting briefly on her waist. Then he clapped Jaehaerys on the back, urging him toward the door.
As they left the chambers, Jaehaerys glanced back one last time at Valaena, watching her cradle Vhalarr.
She glanced up and met his eyes with a small smile. He nodded once before following Aemond down the hall.
A little while later, when Lirri and Arro were watching the younger children, Valaena peeked her head around the door to Rhaegar’s chambers.
The soft scratch of charcoal on parchment met her ears, and she smiled at the sight before her.
Her twelve-year-old son sat cross-legged on a cushioned bench by the window, his head bowed in deep concentration as he sketched on a sheet of parchment.
His long silver hair caught the glow of the afternoon sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow.
"Mother?" Rhaegar glanced up from his drawing, his lilac eyes sharp but curious. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine," Valaena assured him with a soft smile as she stepped fully into the room.
Her gaze lingered on the page in his lap — a rough but striking sketch of two dragons mid-flight.
It brought a flicker of pride to her heart. "Your father is flying with your uncle and cousin. I thought perhaps you and I might join them. It has been some weeks since I last took to the skies with Silverwing."
Rhaegar’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Truly?" he asked, setting the charcoal aside with a grin. "I would love to!"
"Then go on," she said with a small laugh, motioning toward his wardrobe. "Get your riding leathers. Quickly now."
Valaena chuckled softly as she watched him dart around the room, grabbing his leathers and tugging them on with practiced ease.
His excitement was infectious. Once he was dressed and tugging on his gloves, he ran back over to her, his face flushed with eagerness.
"Ready!" he declared.
"Not quite," Valaena said with a sly smile. "I have something for you first."
Rhaegar blinked, his curiosity piqued. "A gift?"
"A gift," she confirmed, pulling a carefully wrapped package from behind her back. It was wrapped in dark cloth and tied with a silver ribbon. She held it out to him, and he accepted it eagerly, his fingers quick to untie the ribbon.
His breath caught as he pulled back the fabric. "Oh" he gasped, his eyes wide with awe.
A cloak of deep crimson was folded neatly within, the colour rich and bold. On the back, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen was stitched with exquisite precision, its threads of black silk shimmering in the light.
The shoulders adorned with intricate embroidery in the pattern of dragon scales, as though the hide of a dragon had been woven into the very fabric.
"That’s not all-" Valaena said, her voice soft but eager.
Resting within the folds of the cloak was a silver dragon chain, similar to the one Valaena often wore when flying, its body coiled with delicate precision. Its head, jaws open in a silent roar, formed one of the clasps. The other end was the dragon’s tail, ready to latch onto the other side of the cloak.
Rhaegar’s eyes flicked between his mother and the chain, realization dawning on him. "Is it—" he breathed, lifting it to inspect it closer. "It’s Sapphyre!"
"Yes," Valaena said, pride swelling in her chest. "It was crafted in her likeness, down to every ridge and claw."
Rhaegar ran his fingers over the small silver dragon, his face filled with wonder. "It’s beautiful mother-" he whispered.
Valaena unfolded the cloak, draping it around his shoulders with practiced care.
The red fabric fell perfectly to his knees, light yet warm. She reached forward, fastening the silver dragon chain, ensuring the clasp was secure. Her hands lingered on his shoulders, steadying him for a moment, before she leaned back to take in the sight of him.
Valaena breathed out slowly, her gaze warm and full of affection. "Look at you, ñuha zaldrītsos," she said softly, tilting her head as her eyes roamed over him. "Sīr olvie hae aōha kepa." (My little dragon, so much like your father.)
Rhaegar flushed a little under her gaze but smiled, nonetheless. "Kirimvose, muña," he said softly, his eyes shining with gratitude. (Thank you, mother.)
She cupped his cheek for a moment, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin before she drew back, her face alight with quiet pride. "Come, little dragon," she said, standing once more. "Our dragons await."
The two of them left his chambers together, Rhaegar walking a little taller, his new cloak trailing behind him like a king's mantle.
Servants and courtiers, they passed in the halls took notice, some of them nodding their approval.
Whispers of admiration followed them, but Rhaegar didn’t seem to hear. He walked with his head high, his eyes fixed forward, his hands brushing against the silver chain at his collar.
Valaena smiled to herself, letting him feel the weight of it on his shoulders. It suited him, she thought. The cloak, the chain, the dignity — he bore it all well.
They made their way down to the outer courtyard, where two horses were already saddled and waiting for them.
A stable hand stood by, keeping them steady as Valaena approached. She watched as Rhaegar climbed into his saddle, watching as he gripped the reins with ease. He’d grown so quickly, she realized.
It felt like only yesterday she was hoisting him up onto a saddle herself. Now, he needed no help at all.
Once she mounted her own horse, they rode out through the gates of the Red Keep. The sun was warm on their backs as they followed the familiar path toward the open meadow beyond the city walls.
Rhaegar leaned forward in his saddle, excitement bubbling just beneath his composed exterior. His hands tightened on the reins as they cleared the final stretch of the path, the wide, open expanse of the meadow stretching before them like a sea of green. But it wasn’t the grass that held their attention.
Silverwing lay coiled in a half-circle, her silver scales glowing with an ethereal sheen. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths.
Sapphyre was more alert, her deep blue form curled on the grass, her head resting atop her talons. The second she spotted them, her gaze followed their approach with sharp, eager attention.
As Valaena and Rhaegar drew closer, Sapphyre let out a trilling call, a bright, rolling sound like the clash of crystal chimes.
Her long, sinuous tail whipped across the ground, kicking up small clouds of dirt.
At the sound, Silverwing stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, pupils narrowing to slits as her head lifted. Her neck uncoiled like a serpent’s as she turned toward the familiar scent of her rider.
Valaena smiled, her heart swelling with the warmth of familiarity. She reined in her horse, slowing it to a stop, and glanced over her shoulder at Rhaegar. His face was lit with anticipation as his eyes locked on Sapphyre, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Without needing to be told, they both dismounted, their boots crunching softly against the earth.
Valaena handed her horse’s reins to a stable hand who had been sent ahead to meet them, and Rhaegar did the same.
Their horses snorted and shook their heads, but soon the stable hand led them away, leaving mother and son to approach their dragons alone.
Rhaegar stepped forward first, his eyes locked on Sapphyre. The blue dragon’s eyes tracked his every movement, unblinking and watchful. She tilted her head as he approached, her nostrils flaring as she caught his scent. Her breath came in sharp, short huffs, and her body shifted, her wings fluttering in small, eager twitches.
Rhaegar reached up, placing his hand gently on the smooth, cool scales of her neck. His fingers trailed slowly, reverently, from her jaw to her throat, feeling the rumble of her low purr beneath his palm.
"Ñuha riña," he murmured softly, his voice low but clear, "kessa īlon sōvegon?" (My girl, shall we fly?)
Sapphyre tilted her head, blinking once, before she trilled a high-pitched response, a sound like a songbird's call mixed with the deep resonance of thunder.
She pressed her neck into his hand, leaning against him with all the weight of her affection. Her eyes were half-lidded as her tail whipped the ground in excitement.
Valaena watched from a few paces away, her heart full of quiet pride. It was a beautiful thing to see the bond between a dragon and her rider. She watched as Rhaegar circled to Sapphyre’s side, he climbed into the saddle with smooth, practiced ease, moving with a grace born from years of training. He fastened the leather straps across his legs, checking each buckle twice as she had taught him.
Sapphyre shifted beneath him, her body shivering with anticipation as her claws flexed against the ground. Her wings unfurled with a slow, steady grace, each membrane catching the light as veins of blue shimmered like distant stars. She held them open for a moment, letting the breeze roll beneath them, preparing herself for flight.
Meanwhile, Valaena turned her attention to Silverwing. The older dragon watched her closely, her silver eyes gleaming with quiet wisdom. Valaena approached slowly, her hands loose at her sides, her steps calm and deliberate.
Silverwing's gaze was a heavy weight on her shoulders, but it was a familiar one, like the watchful eye of an old friend.
When she reached her dragon, she placed a hand on the side of Silverwing’s face, feeling the warmth of her scales beneath her palm. Her eyes met Silverwing’s, and she lowered her forehead until it rested gently against the dragon’s brow.
"Ñuha riña," she whispered, her breath soft against Silverwing’s warm scales. (My girl.)
Silverwing released a low, rolling rumble, a sound that echoed in Valaena’s chest like the deep hum of the earth beneath the sea. Her long, silver tail flicked, and she tilted her head slightly to press into Valaena's touch.
After a moment, Silverwing shifted her weight, lowering her shoulder and flattening her wing to create an easy path for her rider.
Valaena stepped lightly onto Silverwing’s foreleg, climbing with practiced precision until she settled into the saddle on her back. She fastened herself in, her fingers working quickly to secure the straps around her waist. Every motion was fluid, natural — the result of years spent flying together.
When she was ready, she took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the open sky above. "Sōves," she commanded firmly, her voice clear as a bell. (Fly.)
Silverwing lifted her head, her wings snapping open with a thunderclap of sound. The air around them shifted, the grass flattening as the wind from her wings surged outward.
With a single powerful leap, Silverwing left the ground, her claws digging into the dirt for one last push before launching herself skyward.
Valaena felt the familiar rush of air against her face as the world dropped away beneath them. The meadow, the trees, the Red Keep in the distance — all of it grew smaller as they climbed higher into the sky.
A second roar sounded just behind her, and she glanced back to see Sapphyre leaping into the air after them. Her dark blue wings beat with strength and speed, her flight path sharp and sure.
Rhaegar sat tall in the saddle, his hair whipped by the wind, his cloak trailing behind him like a stream of fire.
For a moment, Valaena felt as though she were looking at a younger version of Aemond, so steady and sure of himself. But there was more of herself in Rhaegar too — that quiet pride, that determination. Her heart ached with love for him in that moment.
Silverwing climbed higher, cutting through the clouds like a ship slicing through waves. Valaena tilted her body forward, pressing her chest to the saddle as her eyes narrowed against the sharp wind. She could hear the steady beat of Silverwing’s wings, could feel the deep, steady thrum of power in her every motion.
Behind her, she caught a glimpse of Sapphyre, rising with them, her form sleek and sharp as a blade of obsidian. Rhaegar’s laughter echoed behind her, bright and wild with exhilaration.
Valaena grinned. She could hear the joy in his voice, the wonder of it all. No walls to hold him. No burdens of court or duty. Just the open sky and the wild freedom of flight.
"Faster, muña!" Rhaegar called to her, his voice carrying over the wind. (Mother).
Valaena looked back at him, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Faster?" she called back, her voice rising with challenge. "As you wish, zaldrītsos." (Little dragon.)
She pressed her knees more firmly against Silverwing’s saddle "Aderī Silverwing-" (Faster.)
Silverwing roared, and suddenly they were plummeting through the sky like a falling star. Rhaegar laughed behind her, his voice high and wild with delight. Sapphyre followed suit, diving after them.
For that one perfect moment, mother and son flew side by side, their dragons cutting through the sky like streaks of silver and blue flame.
High above the endless stretch of sea, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The roar of the waves below was a distant murmur beneath the thunder of dragon wings.
Aemond sat tall in Vhagar’s saddle. His one eye scanned the horizon, sharp as a falcon’s, watching the clouds shift and swirl. The cold wind whipped at his silver hair, but he paid it no mind.
This is peace, he thought. The vast sky belonged to him. To them.
But then — a flash of silver.
It darted past him like lightning cutting through a storm, so fast and sudden that Vhagar snarled in surprise, twisting her great, ancient neck to follow it.
Aemond leaned forward, his hand gripping the saddle horn as he craned his head to see. His lips parted in surprise, and then a sharp, delighted laugh escaped him.
Valaena.
She rode Silverwing like a creature born to the skies, her dark hair wild and loose in the wind, her figure framed against the sun.
Aemond’s heart stirred with something fierce and warm as he watched her tilt her body, leaning into Silverwing's movement as one would lean into a dance.
The sleek silver dragon folded her wings tight against her sides, her body a streak of shimmering light as she dove like an arrow toward the sea.
“Show off,” Aemond shouted, though his grin betrayed his pride.
The silver blur plummeted with breathtaking speed, and for one heart-stopping moment, it seemed as though Silverwing would crash into the waves below.
But at the last possible moment, Silverwing unfurled her wings with a powerful whoosh that sent a spray of seawater bursting into the air. She levelled out, skimming the surface with perfect precision. Her talons raked the water’s edge, leaving trails of white foam in her wake.
Beautiful.
Before Aemond could call out, another shape darted past him on the other side — a flash of deep blue, so close he felt the disturbance of air against his face. His head whipped to the side, and he caught sight of Sapphyre.
Her deep cobalt-blue scales shimmered like the ocean depths in the sunlight, her wings carrying her in swift, graceful arcs. Rhaegar sat atop her back, his riding leathers snug against his small frame, his new red cloak whipping behind him.
"ñuha tresy, ñuha ēlī valītsos” Aemond muttered with a flicker of pride in his voice (My son, my first boy).
Sapphyre’s path curved smoothly, the young dragon circling back around to fly alongside Vhagar.
Her eyes glowed with playful mischief, and she gave a rumbling trill as she glanced at Vhagar — bold, daring.
Rhaegar tilted his head toward Aemond, his smile wide with excitement, his eyes alight with the thrill of the flight. He raised a hand in a wave. Aemond raised a gloved hand in return, his eye watching his son with quiet approval.
"Hold steady, boy," Aemond called out to him, his voice carried by the wind. "Steady hands, steady heart."
Rhaegar gave him a nod, his face serious, his grip firm on the saddle as Sapphyre hovered alongside them.
The young boy glanced down at the water below and then at Vhagar, eyes full of wonder and admiration.
Before Aemond could say more, a golden light caught his eye from below.
Sunfyre and Shrykos.
Sunfyre's resplendent golden scales glowed like molten gold in the afternoon sun, each shift of his wings a cascade of light. Shrykos, smaller but fierce, her pale gold scales catching the light like sunlit sand, spiralled playfully through the air.
The two dragons chased after Silverwing, their movements wild and spirited. Sunfyre banked to the right, his wings tilting as he followed Silverwing’s path along the water.
Shrykos, eager to prove herself, twisted and darted around him, spiralling like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Together, the three dragons cut paths around one another in perfect, playful chaos.
Aemond leaned back in the saddle, letting himself relax as he watched the display. His eye tracked their every movement with the sharp precision of a warrior assessing a battlefield. But there was no danger here, no enemy.
Just his family, his kin — dragons and dragon riders soaring together beneath the open sky.
This is how it should be, he thought. No thrones, no war, no endless struggles for power. Just the sky, the sea, and the fire of dragons.
Vhagar rumbled beneath him, her deep, ancient voice vibrating through his bones. He reached down to pat her neck, his fingers pressing against her rough, weathered scales.
“Let them have their fun, old girl,” he murmured to her. “They’ve yet to learn that the skies belong to us.”
Vhagar snorted, a plume of smoke curling from her nostrils. But she did not chase them. Not yet. She watched, her molten eyes tracking every twist and dive with the patience of something that had seen it all.
Below, Silverwing rose from the water, droplets of seawater sparkling as they cascaded from her wings. She climbed higher, higher, wings beating with graceful strength.
Shrykos and Sunfyre spiralled upward as well, weaving around one another as if caught in a wild dance. Their roars echoed like distant thunder, a harmony of sound that could be heard for miles.
They twisted and snapped at each other playfully, diving and feinting, their movements so tightly in sync it was as though they shared one mind.
“Fools,” Aemond said with a small smirk, watching their antics. But there was no heat behind the word. Only fondness. He let them play, let them chase each other in wild circles, all the while knowing that he and Vhagar could end it all with one beat of those massive wings.
His gaze drifted to Valaena, still riding Silverwing, her body moving fluidly with each motion of the dragon. She glanced back at him, her dark hair wild in the wind, and for a moment, her eyes met his.
Bold woman, he thought with admiration, his smile hidden beneath the sharp lines of his face. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked ahead, urging Silverwing to fly higher, faster.
"You're going to make me chase you, aren't you?" Aemond muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders with a grunt of resolve.
He leaned forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his saddle with firm precision. "Vhagar," he called, his voice sharp and commanding. “ivestragī īlva urnēptre zirȳ” (Let us, show them).
The ancient dragon responded instantly. Vhagar surged forward with a roar that shook the very air around them, her great bulk defying all logic as she moved with terrifying speed.
Silverwing, Sapphyre, Shrykos, and Sunfyre darted ahead, but they could all feel it — the shift in the wind, the looming presence of something vast behind them. They twisted their heads just in time to see Vhagar barrelling toward them, her massive shadow eclipsing the sun.
Rhaegar let out a laugh, his grin wild as he shouted, "She's coming for us!"
Valaena turned her head, eyes gleaming with mischief, and she called out to her son, "Then fly faster, zaldrītsos!" (Little dragon!)
The chase was on.
Sapphyre and Rhaegar twisted through the air with playful ease, Sunfyre and Shrykos darting after Silverwing, their roars blending into a triumphant chorus.
The dragons danced in the sky, swirling, chasing, rising higher and higher into the endless blue.
And behind them all, the mighty Vhagar surged forward, unrelenting and unstoppable.
This was freedom.
Not the iron cages of courtly life. Not the weight of thrones and crowns. Not the heavy chains of duty and obligation.
This — this wild, unchained flight, this was what it meant to be a dragon.
TBC
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x oc#aemond#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#kcktfics
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The Lost Dragon.
I - Ensnared, II - Counterblow, III - Slip Away, IV - Harmonize, V - Butterfly, VI - Wrecked, VII - Eliminate, VIII - Relinquish, IX - Displaced, X - Longing, XI - Freedom, XII - Revelations, XIII - Tranquility, XIV - Lingering, XV - Eternal, XVI - Hēnkirī hae mēre, XVII - Epilogue, XVIII - Exile (Aemond POV)
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#aemond x original female character#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond#aemond smut#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aegon ii targaryen#daemon targeryan#rhaenyra targaryen#lucerys velaryon#jacaerys velaryon#alicent hightower#otto hightower#criston cole#daeron targaryen#baela targaryen#kcktfics
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Dynasty.
The Beginning
Courtship
Wedding & Consummation
Bath Time
Arrival(s).
Mother and Father
Petitions and Final Tributes
The Hand, The King & The Dragon
Dragonstone (Rhaenyra POV)
Blood and Cheese
A Time for Grief
Rooks Rest & The Silver King
The Gullet
Taking of a City.
Harrenhal and the Rivers Part I
Harrenhal and the Rivers Part II
The Gods Eye
The Fallen Queen (Rhaenyra POV)
New Beginnings
Ravenous
Don't Leave Me
Another Plane of Existence
Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I (Aemond POV)
Gēlenka Zaldrīzes II (Aemond POV)
Gēlenka Zaldrīzes III (Aemond POV)
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond x oc#hotd fanfic#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#aemond fic#aemond x original female character#aegon ii targaryen#hotd fic#hotd smut#otto hightower#alicent hightower#rhaenyra targaryen#daemon x rhaenyra#daemon targaryen#helaena targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond smut#prince aemond#alys rivers#hotd aegon#aemond#aegon ii#alicent#helaena#hotd#kcktfics
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Take My Breath Away.
Take My Breath Away I.
Takes My Breath Away II.
Take My Breath Away III.
Takes My Breath Away IV.
Take My Breath Away V.
Take My Breath Away VI
Take My Breath Away VII
Take My Breath Away VIII
Take My Breath Away IX
Take My Breath Away X
Take My Breath Away XI
Take My Breath Away XII
Take My Breath Away XIII
Take My Breath Away XIV
Special Chapter - Breath of Doubt
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd fanfic#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond x original female character#hotd fic#hotd smut#prince aemond#aemond#aemond smut#aemond one eye#aegon ii targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon ii#alicent#alicent hightower#the greens#aemond targaryen x oc#house of the dragon aemond#kcktfics
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Scorched Hearts - Younger I
Summary:
'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'
A glimpse into the past of Aemond and Valaena.
Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Mild Violence, Reference to Violence Against A Child, First Kiss, Seperation, Blood, Eye Injury, Self Loathing.
AEMOND x O.C Niece
Word Count: 8730
A.N -
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx
The sun shone bright over the training grounds of the Red Keep, casting long shadows as the clash of wooden swords echoed in the air.
Valaena stood by the weapons chest, her small fingers brushing the cool edge of the lid as she watched her brothers, Jace and Luke, sparring against their uncles Aegon and Aemond.
Their laughter and the occasional grunt of effort filled the space, each of them engrossed in the mock battle.
Valaena’s heart ached as she stood there, longing to join them. She clenched her small hands into fists, frustration bubbling in her chest.
Why couldn’t she pick up a sword too?
She might be able to fight as well as any of them if only she were given the chance.
But no, she was a girl, and the training ground was no place for her. Her days were filled with embroidery, memorizing the names of lords and castles, and practicing the graciousness expected of a Queen.
She glowered at the thought.
If duty meant being left on the sidelines while everyone else had fun, she didn’t want it.
Valaena’s gaze lingered on Aemond as he stepped back, his wooden sword poised with precision. His movements were sharp and deliberate, his focus unwavering.
He didn’t carry the same careless energy as Aegon or the easy camaraderie Jace and Luke shared. There was a quiet intensity to him, one that fascinated Valaena.
But more than that, there was something else—a sadness she couldn’t quite name.
While the others sparred, Aemond often stood alone. Even when he fought alongside them, he seemed apart, an island unto himself.
It made her chest tighten to see him that way, isolated in a way that felt deeply unfair. She wanted to approach him, to talk to him, to ask him why he seemed so distant, but the words never came.
Instead, when their eyes met across the training yard, she gave him a small, discreet wave.
To her surprise, Aemond smiled and inclined his head in return. Her cheeks warmed, a blush creeping across her face as she looked down quickly, pretending to fiddle with the edge of her sleeve.
Her mind raced.
What could she do to make him happy?
She wanted to see him smile again, to banish that loneliness from his expression. A thought struck her—a simple, childlike solution that made perfect sense.
Sweets!
Everyone liked sweets, didn’t they? Surely, a treat would lift Aemond’s spirits.
Resolving herself, Valaena turned on her heel, leaving the training grounds behind. Her sandals slapping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the kitchens, excitement bubbling within her.
She imagined the look on Aemond’s face when she presented him with the treat. Perhaps he’d laugh, or perhaps he’d speak to her more. Maybe he’d even thank her and tell her she was clever.
And just maybe, in some small way, he’d like her.
Valaena tiptoed into the Red Keep’s kitchens, her heart racing with the thrill of her small rebellion.
The air was warm and smelled of freshly baked bread, spiced pies, and the faint tang of roasted meat.
Long wooden tables were cluttered with pots, bowls, and rolling pins, and in the corner sat a tray laden with sweets—golden tarts, sugar-dusted biscuits, and small candied fruits that glistened like tiny jewels.
Her eyes lit up as she approached, her hands twitching with anticipation. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then reached out, snatching a handful of the treats. Just as she stuffed them into her hands, a shadow loomed over her, and she froze.
“Ahem-”
Valaena turned, her breath hitching as she looked up at a plump older woman with flour-splattered cheeks and a wooden ladle clutched in her hand like a weapon. The cook stared down at her, raising an eyebrow.
“What do we have here?” the woman asked in a stern tone.
“I-I was-was just-” Valaena stammered, quickly hiding her hands behind her back. Her lip wobbled as she tried to think of an excuse. “Please don’t tell my mama-”
The cook crossed her arms, her gaze steady. “Stealing is wrong, little Princess.”
“I’m sorry, cooky lady,” Valaena whispered, her cheeks reddening. “I-I’ll put them back. I just wanted to cheer up my uncle-he seems very sad and-and-”
The cook’s expression softened at her words. She sighed, shaking her head before putting her ladle on the side. “Go on, then. Take them. But next time, you ask, do you hear me?”
Valaena’s face brightened with a smile, and she nodded eagerly. “I will! Thank you, cooky lady!”
The cook chuckled softly, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. “Go on, get out of here, Princess. Wouldn’t want you getting caught wandering where you don’t belong.”
Valaena paused, turning back to the cook with a puzzled expression. “Where I don’t belong?”
The cook let out a weary sigh, brushing the flour from her hands. “You’re a Princess, and I’m a servant. We belong to different worlds, little one. One day you’ll understand. People like me aren’t meant to mix with people like you.”
Valaena tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “But why?”
The cook chuckled softly, though there was a hint of melancholy in her voice. “That’s just the way things are, child.”
“But why?” Valaena pressed, her frown deepening.
The cook exhaled, her patience waning. “You’re young. You’ll see when you’re older.”
“But we all live—and someday, we’ll all die. Isn’t that the same?” Valaena asked, her head tilted in earnest curiosity.
The cook paused, her voice carrying a note of quiet sorrow. “The lives we lead couldn’t be more different.”
“Why?” Valaena insisted, pursing her lips.
“It just is, Princess,” the cook murmured, her words heavy with resignation.
Valaena looked down at the sweets cradled in her hands.
After a moment of thought, she picked the most delicious-looking one—a tart with golden glaze—and held it out to the cook.
“Here. Sweets always make everything better.”
The cook’s eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled, taking the tart carefully. “Thank you, Princess.”
Valaena beamed, but then asked, “What’s your name, cooky lady?”
The cook raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Flora,” she said after a moment.
“I’m Valaena,” the young princess replied proudly, her head held high.
Flora laughed softly, shaking her head. “I know who you are, Princess.”
Valaena frowned, shaking her head firmly. “No, I’m just Valaena.”
The cook smiled, her eyes crinkling with affection. “Very well, Valaena.”
“Thank you, Flora,” Valaena said with a grin. “But I must give these to my uncle now. Perhaps I shall come to see you again.”
“I would like that,” Flora said, her voice gentle.
With a final smile, Valaena turned and darted out of the kitchen, racing back to the training yard with the sweets clutched in her hands.
Valaena arrived back at the training yard, her hand clutching the sweets she had carefully pilfered, only to be greeted by the chaotic sight of Ser Harwin Strong reigning punches down on Ser Criston Cole.
The sound of fists connecting with flesh echoed around the grounds, Ser Harwin’s booming voice shouting, “Say it again! Say it again!”
His anger reverberated like thunder, and it took three Kingsguard to pull him away.
As Ser Harwin was escorted past her, his face a mixture of fury and frustration, Valaena’s gaze met his.
On impulse, she reached out and gently squeezed his hand, a silent gesture of comfort.
Ser Harwin looked down at her, his stormy expression softening for a moment, before he was pulled away.
Valaena let go, her attention turning toward Aemond.
She approached him, her steps light, and held out one of the sweets in her hand. “For you, Uncle,” she said softly, her violet eyes shimmering with quiet warmth.
Aemond stared at her, his features momentarily unreadable. Then, he nodded and reached for the sweet, his fingers brushing hers as he took it.
“Thank you,” he muttered, his voice low.
“I saw you earlier,” Valaena said, her tone brightening. “You’re very good with sparring.”
Aemond’s lips quirked into a small smile, but before he could reply, Aegon sauntered over, his usual smirk plastered across his face.
“What’s this, little niece?” Aegon asked, his tone mockingly sweet as he reached for the sweets in her hand.
“Not for you, Uncle,” Valaena snapped, pulling her hand back protectively. “Get your own”
Aegon scoffed, his pride clearly pricked. “How rude.” With a flick of his wrist, he slapped her hand, sending the sweets tumbling to the dirt.
Valaena’s lips wobbled, her breath hitching as Aegon laughed cruelly.
“Aww, are you going to cry, little girl?”
“You’re mean!” Valaena blurted, her voice shaking.
Aegon shrugged nonchalantly. “So? What are you going to do about it? Nothing. That’s all you ever have—nothing. No friends, no dragon. Makes you wonder if you’re even a Targaryen at all.”
His words struck deep, and Valaena glanced at Aemond, whose scowl mirrored her own pain. Aemond, like her, was without a dragon, and Aegon’s taunts seemed to cut them both equally.
Aegon’s laughter only grew as he shoved Valaena, sending her sprawling to the ground.
“Leave her alone!” Aemond snapped, his voice sharp as he moved to help her up.
Aegon stopped laughing, only to sneer at his younger brother. “Oh, look, the dragon less wonder comes to the rescue.”
But before Aegon could continue his mockery, Valaena surged forward, her small fist connecting with his nose in a satisfying crack.
Aegon’s eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, blood trickling from his nostrils.
“You little shit!” Aegon snarled, lunging toward her, but Aemond stepped in front of Valaena, his arm outstretched as he pushed his older brother back.
“That’s enough,” Aemond said coldly, his voice steady and commanding.
Aegon wiped the blood from his nose, his face twisting with fury. “You two losers deserve each other,” he spat before stomping off, Jace and Luke following close behind with uncertain expressions.
Valaena brushed dirt from her dress, her cheeks flushed with anger and shame. “Thank you,” she murmured, glancing at Aemond.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone casual as he turned away to begin placing the wooden swords back on the rack.
Feeling disheartened, Valaena turned to leave the training grounds. But just as she reached the edge, Aemond’s voice called after her.
“Good punch, by the way.”
Valaena stopped, turning to see him looking at her with a faint, approving smile.
A smile broke across Valaena’s face, and she nodded. “Thank you.”
For the first time that day, Aemond’s smile lingered, and Valaena left the training yard with a newfound spark of courage in her heart.
Valaena sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor of her chambers, her fingers tracing the smooth, polished edges of her wooden dragon figurines.
Each one was meticulously carved, the detail of their scales and wings so lifelike that she often imagined they might come alive in her hands.
She loved her toys, but as her gaze lingered on the little wooden figures, a heavy question began to press on her heart.
Would these carvings be the closest she ever came to having a dragon of her own?
The thought sent a pang of doubt through her chest.
What kind of Queen would she be if she never had a dragon?
Her mother had Syrax, her grandsire had been the last to claim Balerion the Black Dread, and Old King Jaehaerys, whom the bards still sang of, had commanded Vermithor.
Would the realm see her as weak?
Would they whisper behind her back that she was unworthy to sit the Iron Throne because she lacked the fiery majesty that defined her house?
People already whispered about her, she knew. Valaena wasn’t deaf to the hushed voices in the corridors of the Red Keep or the side-eyed glances as she walked by.
“She doesn’t have silver hair like her mother,” they would murmur. “-Or any Targaryen.”
Her hair was dark, like her brothers’, like Ser Harwin’s.
That truth loomed over her like a shadow she couldn’t escape, but Valaena didn’t want to dwell on it—not the way the courtiers and gossips did.
Her mother, Rhaenyra, always sidestepped such questions with the poise she could muster.
“You are a Targaryen,” her mother always said. “And that is all that matters.”
But without a dragon, Valaena didn’t feel much like a Targaryen. She felt ordinary, just like everyone else in the castle who didn’t have wings to carry them into the sky or fire in their blood to set the world alight.
Her fingers tightened around the figurine, her nails digging into its wooden sides. She wanted to believe her mother’s words.
She wanted to feel the power and pride of her house coursing through her veins, but without a dragon, it was hard to hold onto that feeling.
She sighed, letting the little wooden dragon drop onto the floor with a soft clatter.
For now, all she had were these toys and her dreams of what might be.
But dreams, no matter how vivid, couldn’t chase away the doubt.
Valaena picked up the shiny silver dragon figurine and cradled it in her hands.
“Maybe someday,” she whispered to the little dragon, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire in her hearth. “Maybe someday, you’ll be real.”
For now, though, the wooden dragons were all she had, and as much as she tried to imagine otherwise, they weren’t enough to fill the emptiness that burned inside her.
Valaena was skipping along the corridor, her little satchel of sweet treats that Flora had given her bouncing against her hip, when she saw Aemond rush past her.
His face was streaked with soot, his silver hair dishevelled, and his eyes red and swollen.
She hesitated for a moment, clutching the strap of her satchel. Aemond wasn’t always the easiest to approach, especially when he was upset.
But something about the look in his eyes pulled her forward. She quickened her steps, following him down the winding hall and out into the gardens.
She found him hunched near the ancient weirwood tree, his shoulders trembling as he furiously wiped at his face.
Valaena stopped a few paces away and called his name softly.
“Aemond?”
His head snapped up, his violet eyes glaring at her through strands of silver hair.
“Get lost,” he snarled, his voice thick with anger and embarrassment.
Valaena paused, unphased by his outburst. She reached into her satchel and pulled out one of the treats.
“Would you like a sweet?” she offered, holding it out in her palm. “I got them from the kitchens this morning.”
Aemond scowled, his face twisting in frustration, but after a moment, he nodded stiffly.
Valaena smiled. “Follow me.” She turned and led him to a thick bush near the edge of the gardens.
Parting the branches, she revealed a hollow space beneath, just large enough for the two of them to sit.
“This is my secret hiding place,” she said with pride, stepping inside and settling on the soft grass. She patted the ground beside her. “No one will find us here.”
Aemond hesitated, casting a wary glance around, but then he sighed and crawled in after her. He sat beside her, his knees drawn up to his chest.
Valaena opened her satchel, pulling out a handful of treats. “Which one do you want?”
Aemond pointed to the one in her left hand, and she handed it over without hesitation. They sat in companionable silence, munching on the sweets.
The tension in Aemond’s shoulders seemed to ease as he chewed, though his gaze remained fixed on the ground.
When they finished, Valaena broke the quiet. “Why were you so upset?”
Aemond’s face darkened, and he looked away, his cheeks flushing pink. “They all laughed at me,” he muttered.
“Who?”
“Aegon,” he said bitterly, wiping at his eyes again, “and your brothers. They gave me a p-pig.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he clenched his fists. “They called it the Pink Dread”
Valaena’s heart ached at the pain in his voice. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Aemond. That was cruel of them.”
He glanced at her, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and squeezed her hand back.
They sat in silence for a long moment before Aemond spoke again, his voice low but resolute.
“I vow,” he said, his tone filled with determination, “-that one day I will claim the greatest dragon alive and they will never dare to mock me again-”
Valaena’s lips curled into a small smile. “Maybe that’s why your egg didn’t hatch,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe your dragon is already out there somewhere, waiting for you.”
Aemond turned to her, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. “Do you really think so?”
She nodded. “I do. We weren’t meant for hatchlings. Our claims belong to the dragons of old. I’m certain of it.”
Aemond stared at her for a moment, his expression softening. “I hope you’re right, Valaena.”
She grinned and leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll claim one of my own, too.”
For the first time that day, Aemond smiled, and it was enough to warm Valaena’s heart.
Together, they sat beneath the canopy of the bush, their shared hope for the future quietly binding them in a way that neither of them could yet put into words.
Over the next few weeks, Valaena and Aemond grew inseparable.
While the others flew with their dragons, Valaena and Aemond found solace in each other’s company.
They spent hours in the gardens, their laughter echoing beneath the shade of the weirwood tree, or lost in the library, devouring books on history and philosophy.
One sunny afternoon, Valaena skipped along the stone path, humming a cheerful tune. She was meant to be in her lessons with Septa Wella, but her heart led her elsewhere.
The weirwood tree was her sanctuary, and Aemond, sitting at its base with a book in hand, was waiting for her.
She spotted him ahead and quickened her steps, but her foot caught on an uneven stone. She tumbled to the ground, scraping her knee.
Tears welled in her eyes as she sat up, clutching her injured leg.
Aemond immediately rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Valaena whimpered, pointing to her knee. “It hurts.”
Aemond examined the scrape. It was bleeding slightly but not severe. “It’s just a small scrape-” he said, his tone soothing. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”
Before he could say more, a shadow loomed over them. Septa Wella stood there, her face a mask of fury.
“Princess Valaena,” the Septa said sharply, “-you have important lessons to attend”
Valaena glared up at her, still clutching her knee. “I don’t want to go. I want to play with Aemond.”
“That is not your choice,” Septa Wella replied, her voice tight with disapproval. “As future Queen, there are values you must learn. The crown works closely with the Faith of the Seven. These lessons are vital.”
Valaena’s scowl deepened. “But what about the Valyrian gods? Shouldn’t I learn about them too?”
The Septa scoffed, unimpressed. “The Faith of the Seven is what matters in the realm. You will understand this in time.” She reached down and grabbed Valaena’s arm, trying to pull her to her feet.
Valaena, with fire in her eyes, leaned forward and bared her teeth, snapping them in the Septa’s direction.
Septa Wella shrieked, recoiling. “You vicious little beast!”
Aemond stood abruptly, his violet eye flashing. “Perhaps my niece would be more cooperative if you spent less time scolding her,” he said coldly.
Septa Wella straightened, smoothing her robes. “But, my Prince, the Princess is stubborn and belligerent. Such attitudes are unbefitting of a future Queen.”
Aemond tilted his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Hmmm. And perhaps you should have more respect for the future Queen.”
The Septa narrowed her eyes at him but bowed, her politeness clearly feigned. “I shall endeavour to correct my behaviour, my Prince.”
Aemond gave a curt nod before turning his attention back to Valaena. “Are you all right?”
Before Valaena could answer, Septa Wella interjected, her tone clipped. “Oh, do not worry, my Prince. The Princess will be fine.”
With that, the Septa grabbed Valaena’s arm once more, dragging her away. Valaena’s eyes filled with fear as she looked back at Aemond, silently pleading for help.
Aemond watched them go, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew the Septa’s strictness was part of her duty, but the sight of Valaena’s terrified face lingered in his mind long after she disappeared from view.
He vowed to find a way to protect her—not just from Septa Wella, but from the suffocating expectations that seemed determined to stifle the bright, fierce spirit he had come to admire so deeply.
Valaena lay curled up in her bed, her small body trembling as tears soaked her pillow.
Her back throbbed where Septa Wella's whip had left its stinging marks, each stripe a cruel reminder of the words that had been flung at her like daggers.
"Creature born of sin and depravity," the Septa had hissed. "You are no true Targaryen. Your egg didn’t hatch because you were never meant to be one of them."
The words echoed in Valaena’s mind, sharp and cutting, tearing at the fragile sense of self she had tried to hold onto.
She hugged her stuffed dragon tightly to her chest, its worn scales damp from her tears. The maids would come soon; she knew they would.
They always did, hovering around her like bees to honey, eager to report back to her mother if anything seemed amiss.
Valaena didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this.
As she lay there, staring into the dancing flames in the hearth, the truth settled over her like a suffocating weight.
It was a truth she had somehow known deep down, even as she had tried to ignore it, to wish it away.
Harwin Strong was her father. Not Laenor Velaryon, the man who was supposed to be her father, who the realm believed was her father.
Her mother had lain with Harwin instead, and Valaena, like her brothers, was the proof of that indiscretion. She hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t asked to be born into a web of lies and whispers. Yet here she was.
The pointed stares, the quiet murmurs in the halls, the sideways glances—they were her fault.
She was the reason her family carried this burden, the reason her brothers were mocked and ridiculed. It was her existence that cast a shadow over them all.
And in that moment, Valaena hated her mother.
She hated her mother for her choices, for the shadow she had cast over their family, for the pain and shame that Valaena and her brothers endured every day. If it weren’t for her grandsire, the King’s wilful blindness, Valaena knew she wouldn’t even be here.
None of them would.
She wiped her nose on the edge of her bed sheet, sniffling as she tried to quiet her sobs. The maids would come soon, and she couldn’t let them see her like this.
Gingerly, she climbed out of bed, wincing as the movement pulled at her sore back. Her fingers trembled as she changed into her nightclothes, the soft fabric brushing against her raw skin and making her wince.
Once dressed, she climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She burrowed deeper into the blankets, the stuffed dragon clutched tightly in her arms as she stared into the fire. The flames flickered and danced, their light casting shadows across the walls of her chamber.
Valaena watched the flames until her eyes grew heavy, her tears drying on her cheeks. But even as sleep tugged at her, the sting of Septa Wella's words and the ache in her heart refused to fade.
Only thoughts of Aemond offered her solace: the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes sparkled with laughter, the delicate freckles scattered across his face, and the way he would sometimes hold her hand as they read together.
He was her friend—her only friend. And maybe, just maybe, one day Valaena prayed that he would be something more.
The Red Keep buzzed with a flurry of activity as trunks were packed, maids hurried back and forth with Rhaenyra issuing instructions with a strained voice.
Valaena stood off to the side, her heart sinking as she watched her life at the castle being dismantled before her eyes.
They were leaving for Dragonstone, her mother had said, a place of safety and tradition, far away from the whispers and stares of King’s Landing.
Valaena barely noticed. Her world was shattering. She wasn’t just leaving the Red Keep; she was leaving him.
Aemond.
The thought of parting from him made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t fully explain.
Without him, what was she? Just a lonely girl with no dragon, trapped by the weight of her name.
She couldn’t let it end like this.
Slipping away from her chambers, her small feet barely made a sound on the stone floors as she ran through the familiar corridors.
She didn’t care if her mother found out she’d vanished. She didn’t care if the maids scolded her for disobedience.
All that mattered was seeing Aemond, one last time.
She found him sitting beneath the weirwood tree, his head bowed, his shoulders tense. He didn’t look up immediately as she approached, but when he did, the sadness in his eyes mirrored her own.
“I’m leaving for Dragonstone-” Valaena said, her voice trembling.
“I know,” Aemond replied, his tone clipped but hollow.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Aemond’s jaw tightened as he looked away, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “What choice do you have?” he said quietly, bitterness seeping into his voice. “What choice do we ever have?”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she stepped closer, her small hands trembling as she reached for his. “But I’ll miss you. So much.”
At that, he turned back to her, his expression softening as his fingers intertwined with hers. “And I’ll miss you,” he admitted, his voice cracking.
They stood there for a moment, hand in hand, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.
“I wish we could stay together,” Valaena finally said, her tears spilling over.
Aemond looked up at the weirwood tree, its carved face gazing down at them with an ancient, solemn expression. When he spoke, his voice was low but firm. “Then we will.”
Her brow furrowed. “How?”
“When we’re grown,” he said, his eye meeting hers with fierce determination, “I vow to you. That I will marry you. And we will never be parted again.”
Her breath hitched, his words both a comfort and a wound. “You promise?”
“I promise,” he said, his voice unwavering.
She tried to smile through her tears, but it broke into a sob as Aemond reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek.
Then, with a trembling hand, he leaned in and kissed her.
It was a fleeting kiss, soft and hesitant, but it was full of all the things they couldn’t say—longing, fear, and a desperate hope that the future might somehow be kinder.
“Valaena!” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed through the gods wood, sharp and commanding.
Valaena flinched, her time running out. She clung to Aemond in a desperate hug, her tears soaking into his tunic. “Don’t forget me,” she begged.
“I could never forget you,” he whispered fiercely, his arms tightening around her. “Write to me.”
“I will,” she promised, her voice breaking as she pulled away, taking one last look at him before turning to run back toward her mother’s voice.
Aemond stood frozen beneath the weirwood tree, his fists clenched at his sides, his heart shattering as he watched her go.
With one last look, Valaena turned and ran back toward the Keep.
Aemond remained by the weirwood tree, standing alone as he watched her disappear from sight.
A single tear slipped down his cheek, falling into the grass below.
Aemond sat cross-legged in the small hollow beneath the bush in the gods wood, Valaena’s hiding spot.
It was his refuge now, the only place where he felt close to her. The faint rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of birds surrounded him, but all his focus was on the crinkled parchment in his hands, her familiar handwriting filling the page.
He had read the letter so many times that he knew it by heart, but still, he traced each line as if committing it to memory anew.
Her words were a balm to the ache in his chest. She missed him, she said, just as much as he missed her.
But her life on Dragonstone sounded better, freer.
There are no whispers here, no pointing fingers or cruel laughter as I pass. It is... peaceful. I think you would like it, Aemond. The air smells of salt and the sea, and when the sun sets, the world looks like it’s made of fire and blood and the library is filled with ancient books and scrolls from old Valyria.
He smiled faintly at her description, imagining her sitting by the sea, her dark hair whipped by the wind, the light of the setting sun casting her in hues of crimson and gold.
But then his smile faltered, and the ache in his chest deepened. She was so far away.
But one letter had arrived just days ago that had shaken him from his melancholy. It was different. Brimming with excitement, the words practically leapt off the page:
Aemond, you won’t believe it! I have my dragon at last!
His heart had raced as he read those words, a mixture of elation and jealousy coursing through him.
Silverwing! She is mine now. The dragon keepers said she was unclaimed for so long, but when I approached her, she came to me without hesitation. She is beautiful, Aemond, with shining silver scales and the gentlest eyes I have ever seen. They say she is the gentlest of all dragons, and I believe it. When I am with her, I feel… whole.
Aemond couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy, though he quickly pushed it aside. Silverwing.
The dragon of Queen Alysanne, one of the most revered dragons in Targaryen history. Of course, Valaena would be the one to claim her.
There was no other dragon in the world more suited to her, no bond more fitting than the one they shared.
He read the next part again, the words filling him with hope:
I know you will claim your dragon too, Aemond. I am certain of it. Perhaps, like me, your dragon waits for you somewhere out there, ready to find you when the time is right.
Her faith in him stirred something deep within his chest. He could almost hear her voice, warm and unwavering, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him for so long.
If Valaena believed he could claim a dragon, then perhaps he could.
For now, he found joy in her triumph. He was proud of her—so proud he thought his heart might burst with it. She had done what he still had yet to do, and she had found her place in the world.
But still, he missed her terribly. The letters were his lifeline, and as he folded the parchment carefully and tucked it into the small pouch he kept at his side.
Leaning back, Aemond looked up through the branches at the sky, his mind filled with images of Silverwing and Valaena soaring together above the waves of Dragonstone.
The thought brought him comfort, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled—a true, genuine smile.
Someday, he promised himself. Someday he would claim his own dragon, and he would join her in the skies.
But for now, her happiness was enough.
Aemond leaned against the rain-specked window of his cabin, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse of gray-blue sea.
The ship’s rhythmic creaking and the distant crash of waves filled the air, but he barely noticed.
His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the one person who had occupied his heart and mind since the day she had left the Red Keep—Valaena.
He let out a soft sigh, his fingers idly tracing the glass. Somewhere ahead, past the horizon, she was waiting.
They had written to one another faithfully, sharing every detail of their lives and thoughts, but letters could only go so far. He yearned to see her again, to hear her voice, and to feel the warmth of her presence.
Aemond’s lips twitched into a small smile as he thought of her, but guilt tugged at him immediately. They were sailing to Driftmark for a funeral—a solemn occasion, a time for mourning.
Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys had lost their daughter, and his duty was to offer respect and condolences. Yet, no matter how he tried, his heart thrummed with excitement at the prospect of seeing Valaena again.
He closed his eye and rested his forehead against the window. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre flew in graceful arcs alongside the ship, their powerful wings cutting through the sky.
Normally, the sight of dragons in flight would have captivated him, but not today.
Today, his mind was filled with Valaena.
When the announcement came that Driftmark was on the horizon, Aemond was one of the first to ascend to the deck. He stood at the bow of the ship, gripping the railing tightly as he stared out into the distance.
The imposing cliffs of Driftmark loomed closer, and the towering structure of High Tide came into view, its stones gleaming under the faint sunlight.
Sunfyre and Dreamfyre roared as they soared ahead, joining the dragons already circling Driftmark—Syrax, Meleys, and Caraxes.
But then, among them, he spotted her—Silverwing.
Aemond’s breath caught in his throat. She was even more magnificent than he had imagined.
Her scales shimmered like molten silver, catching the sunlight as she glided effortlessly through the sky, she was larger than the other dragons.
For a moment, he could only stare, mesmerized by the beauty and grace, of the hundred year old dragon.
But it wasn’t just Silverwing, it was Valaena. She would be there, so close now, just beyond the horizon.
“Just a little while longer,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind and waves.
As the ship drew nearer to Driftmark, Aemond stood resolute, his eyes never leaving the sight of Silverwing.
The anticipation burned in his chest, mingling with a thousand unspoken words and a longing he could scarcely contain.
Soon. Soon, they would be together again.
All throughout the funeral, Aemond’s gaze found its way to Valaena. She stood with her brothers, her head bowed, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her saddened face. She looked so small, huddled between Jace and Luke, her hands clasped tightly before her.
Aemond’s heart ached to see her like this, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
The sombre words spoken by Vaemond, the weeping of loved ones, even the low roar of the waves against Driftmark’s cliffs faded to a dull hum in his ears.
All he could focus on was her—the tilt of her chin, the way she fidgeted with her fingers, the faint sheen of tears in her eyes.
When the funeral came to an end, Aemond found her standing alone by the water’s edge. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sea in hues of amber and crimson.
Her arms were crossed, and she stared out across the waves, her expression distant.
He approached her cautiously, his footsteps muffled by the damp earth. When he stopped beside her, Valaena turned her head slightly and looked at him.
Without a word, she reached out and took his hand, her fingers cool but firm as she squeezed gently.
“I—I’m sorry about your aunt,” Aemond said, his voice soft but sincere.
Valaena nodded, her gaze returning to the water. “Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort in his quiet presence.
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the only sound the gentle lapping of the tide.
But then, a mournful cry split the air, low and resonant, echoing across the cliffs and stirring the quiet.
Aemond’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the sky. A shadow passed through the clouds, vast and imposing, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Vhagar,” Valaena said softly, her voice tinged with awe.
Aemond nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the great dragon emerge from the cover of the clouds, her wings blotting out the light as she circled high above. “She is without a rider now,” he murmured.
“I know,” Valaena replied, her voice heavy with the weight of what that meant.
Before either could say more, Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the air. “Valaena, Jace, Luke—it’s time to go to bed.”
Valaena turned, her brow furrowing. “But, Mother—”
Rhaenyra’s attention was elsewhere, her gaze fixed on Daemon as he lingered near the pyre.
Without looking back at her daughter, she repeated firmly, “Bed. Now.”
Valaena sighed, knowing better than to argue. She glanced up at Aemond, her reluctance plain on her face.
“Goodnight,” she said softly, releasing his hand and retreating towards the keep with her brothers.
Aemond watched her go, the warmth of her touch still lingering on his skin.
As she disappeared into the shadows of High Tide, he turned his attention back to the sky.
Vhagar’s massive form was still circling above, her cries reverberating through his chest.
He took a deep, steadying breath, his heart swelling with a mix of fear and determination.
This was his chance.
If Valaena could find her dragon, so could he.
Without another thought, Aemond descended the stone steps, his footsteps resolute as he disappeared in search of Vhagar.
Aemond returned to High Tide, his heart soaring higher than it ever had. Vhagar was his.
The largest, oldest dragon in the world had accepted him, and their flight together had been nothing short of breathtaking.
The new bond thrummed in his chest, warm and vibrant, and he felt invincible, as if the entire world had shifted into place. He couldn’t wait to tell Valaena—she’d be so proud of him.
But his elation was short-lived. As he made his way back through the castle, he was ambushed.
Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena appeared from the shadows, their faces contorted with rage.
"You stole her!" Rhaena shrieked, her voice breaking with grief. Tears streamed down her face. "Vhagar was mine to claim!"
Aemond opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could speak, the four of them lunged at him.
Fists rained down on him, their collective fury overwhelming him. He tried to shield himself, but it was too much.
Suddenly, a new voice screamed, “Stop it!”
Valaena came racing toward them, her dark hair flying as she threw herself into the fray. She grabbed Baela and Rhaena, pulling them off Aemond.
“Leave him alone!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.
Baela snarled and elbowed Valaena in the side of the head, sending her staggering backward.
Valaena stumbled, her vision swimming, and leaned against the wall for support.
Jace grabbed Aemond, pinning him to the ground. Aemond, panting and bloodied, managed to pick up a rock and swing it, connecting with Jace’s head and knocking him down.
Luke rushed forward, and Aemond punched him square in the face, the crack of his nose breaking echoing in the night and he fell back with a whimper, clutching his face.
"You’ll die screaming in flames, just like your father did," Aemond snarled, his voice dripping with venom.
“My father’s still alive!” Luke whimpered, tears mixing with the blood running down his face.
Aemond loomed over him, his chest heaving. “He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong.”
The words cut through the air like a knife. Jace, enraged, pulled a blade from his sleeve and lunged at Aemond.
Aemond kicked him to the ground, the rock still in his hand, raised high above his head.
But then, a soft, trembling voice broke through his fury.
“Aemond”
He froze. He turned his head and saw Valaena, leaning against the wall, her hand pressed to the side of her head where Baela had struck her.
Her wide, tear-filled eyes pleaded with him, her voice raw with emotion.
His anger drained away, replaced by a deep concern for her. He dropped the rock, taking a step toward her.
“Are you hurt?” he muttered, his voice soft, almost breaking.
Valaena opened her mouth to respond, but Jace, taking advantage of the moment, threw a handful of sand into Aemond’s face.
Blinded, Aemond staggered back, wiping at his eyes, when Luke lunged forward.
The blade slashed across Aemond’s face, and he screamed, the pain white-hot as blood began to pour from the wound.
“AEMOND!” Valaena screamed, her voice high and panicked.
She rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside him. Tearing strips from her nightgown, she pressed the cotton to his face, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Her hands trembled as she worked, her face pale with horror.
“V-Valaena. I-I-” stuttered Luke, his hand still clutching the blade.
“LUKE. WHAT DID YOU DO?!” screamed Valaena, her voice shaking with rage and despair.
Aemond then whimpered her name, his voice weak, and she immediately took his hand in hers.
“Iksan lēda ao,” Valaena whispered. (I’m with you)
The sound of armoured footsteps broke the moment as Lord Commander Westerling and several members of the Kings guard rushed onto the scene, their shouts of alarm ringing through the air.
Valaena held onto Aemond’s hand tightly, her body trembling as she looked up at the guards. “Help him! Please!” she cried, her voice breaking.
The chaos swirled around them, but all Aemond could focus on was the warmth of Valaena’s hand in his, her whispered reassurances grounding him as the world seemed to fall apart.
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the high window.
Aemond lay motionless on the bed, the left side of his face swathed in thick bandages. Pain radiated from the wound—a constant, throbbing reminder of what had been taken from him.
Tears slipped from the corner of his right eye, silently trailing down his cheek as he stared at the ceiling.
His world was half gone, lost to the darkness where his left eye once was. Now he was deformed, a scarred monster who would forever bear the mark of last night.
But worse than the physical pain was the ache in his chest, the unbearable weight of his father’s indifference.
Viserys had never truly cared for him. Not for Aegon, Helaena, or Daeron either.
His father’s love had always been reserved for one—Rhaenyra, his precious firstborn.
Even as Aemond sat in agony before the fire, his face being stitched back together, his father’s attention had been consumed by Rhaenyra.
The accusations, the demands for apologies, the placating of her Strong bastards.
That was all that mattered to Viserys. Not his son, who had lost an eye.
Aemond’s throat tightened at the memory of the hall. The arguments, the chaos, the raging voices, and the utter dismissal of what he had endured.
Even Valaena’s small, determined voice had been drowned out in the tumult. She had valiantly tried to defend him, declaring that Vhagar was not some possession to be inherited, but a creature of free will who had chosen him.
Her words had meant the world to him, but they had been brushed aside like nothing.
Viserys had demanded apologies. Reconciliation and gestures of goodwill.
None of it mattered.
Only Alicent and Valaena had stood by him. His mother had demanded justice, her fury manifesting in the blade she had wielded against Rhaenyra and her brood.
Still, Aemond had tried to be brave. He had stood tall in the Hall of Nine, declaring, “Do not mourn me, Mother. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”
It had been true, and yet the truth did little to comfort him now.
The divide in their family had widened, and Aemond knew where the lines had been drawn. He was on one side, and Valaena was on the other.
The thought of being apart from her—truly apart—twisted the knife in his heart.
The soft creak of a door interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Aemond turned his head slightly, just enough to see a familiar figure slipping into the room.
“Valaena,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I don’t have long,” she said softly, closing the door behind her, “but I had to check on you.”
He turned his face away from her, his voice bitter as he muttered, “You shouldn’t be here. Leave me be.”
Valaena crossed the room and knelt beside his bed. “I will never leave you, Aemond.”
“You should.” His voice cracked. “You’ll do well to stay away from me. I’m nothing now. Just a scarred monster.”
Valaena reached out and took his hand. “You’re not a monster,” she said firmly. “You’re brave. And that scar—it shows you’re a survivor. Vhagar chose you because she saw your strength.”
Aemond hesitated, then slowly turned his face toward her. His visible eye glistened with unshed tears. “How can you stand to look at me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Valaena smiled gently, her eyes soft. “Because you’re my Aemond. And you always will be.”
Her words unravelled something inside him, and his lips trembled as he smiled faintly. “You saw what happened last night,” he said. “How can we-how can we still be friends after this?”
Valaena’s hand tightened around his. “Because we’re more to each other than that.”
Aemond's chest ached at her words, a mixture of relief and longing. “I don’t want to be alone again,” he admitted quietly.
“You’ll never be alone,” she whispered. “I will always be there for you.”
Valaena leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and lingering, her warmth melting through his pain.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were tinged with pink, but she held his gaze, steady and unwavering.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For defending me.”
“It’s okay,” she replied softly.
Aemond then let out a huff of laughter, a shadow of his usual confidence returning. “I did it,” he said. “I claimed the greatest dragon alive.”
Valaena’s face lit up with a small smile. “You did. I’m so proud of you-”
Her words struck something deep within him, a warmth stirring in his chest that he hadn’t felt before. No one had ever said they were proud of him—not like this.
It filled him with a quiet joy, a sense of belonging he’d never known. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly seen.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps and voices in the corridor drew their attention.
Valaena glanced toward the door, her expression regretful.
“I think I have to go. I’m not sure your mother would like me being in here.”
Aemond nodded, his heart sinking. “You’ll still write to me, won’t you?”
“I will,” she promised.
Before leaving, she pressed another kiss to his lips, fleeting but full of feeling.
Then she slipped out of the room, leaving Aemond alone once more. But this time, the emptiness didn’t feel quite so suffocating.
She was still with him, in her own way. And that was enough. For now.
Valaena sat in her chambers, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her gown as she stared out the window. The sea breeze ruffled the curtains, but she barely noticed.
It had been weeks since she last heard from Aemond, and her worry had grown unbearable.
The thought that he might no longer want to be her friend gnawed at her heart, leaving her feeling hollow and uncertain.
A soft knock at the door broke her reverie. She shot up from her seat, her chest tightening with anticipation.
“Come in!” she called, her voice breathless.
Maester Gerardys entered, his robes swaying as he carried a sealed letter in his hands. “A letter for you, Princess,” he said with a warm smile.
Valaena practically darted across the room, taking the letter from him with trembling hands. “Thank you, Maester”
“It is my pleasure, Princess,” he said with a slight bow. “When you have a response, come and find me in my chambers, and I will see to its delivery.”
“I will,” she promised, her voice steady despite her pounding heart.
The Maester left, and Valaena closed the door, turning the letter over in her hands. She recognized Aemond’s handwriting immediately, though it was not as neat as usual.
Anxiety twisted in her chest as she carefully broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
Her eyes scanned the words, her heart sinking with every line.
Aemond’s neat script had turned to a shaky scrawl.
He apologized for the delay, explaining that he had suffered a bad infection where his missing eye had been.
The Maesters had eventually been forced to remove the eyelid, leaving the wound even more exposed and painful, and his scar itchy.
He wrote that he had spent most of the past weeks dosed on milk of the poppy, drifting in and out of consciousness, and that his recovery was still slow and excruciating.
He also mentioned the headaches that plagued him now—sharp, debilitating pains that made even the smallest movements unbearable.
But amidst the pain and despair, he thanked her for the handkerchief she had stitched for him, saying he treasured it deeply.
Valaena’s hands trembled as she lowered the letter, pressing it to her chest.
Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of him enduring such agony. She wanted nothing more than to be there, to sit by his side and soothe his pain.
Her mind raced as she clutched the letter. There had to be something she could do.
Perhaps Maester Gerardys could create a salve to help with his scar, or at least provide some comfort.
If not, maybe there was something in Dragonstone’s extensive library—a book, a recipe, anything that could offer a remedy for his pain and headaches.
Yes, that’s what she would do. She would go to the library and find answers.
Valaena carefully folded the letter and slipped it into her special hiding place beneath her bed—a small box where she kept Aemond’s letters and other treasures she held dear.
Then she hurried to the door, determined to help him.
As she stepped into the corridor, she almost collided with Luke, who was running toward her, grinning.
“Valaena! Come play with me!” he said, his voice full of eagerness.
She froze, her expression hardening. “No,” she said coldly, sidestepping him.
Luke’s face fell. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to,” she said sharply, not stopping to explain.
The truth was, she couldn’t look at him without seeing Aemond’s face—the blood, the pain, the tears.
Luke was her little brother, and a part of her still loved and cared for him, but the anger she felt toward him had not yet faded.
She hated him for what he had done, for the harm he had caused Aemond, who had done nothing to deserve it.
And though she knew forgiveness was supposed to come in time, she wasn’t sure it ever would.
Pushing past Luke, she hurried toward the library, leaving him behind with his crestfallen expression.
Her focus now was Aemond. She would find something—anything—that could ease his suffering.
He needed her, and she would not fail him.
TBC
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Ashes.
Summary:
Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.
Warnings - Angst, Drama, Upset, Dark Aemond, Reference to Sex, Mild Violence, Madness, Referenced Deaths, Character Death.
AEMOND TARGARYEN x DAELLA (DAERON TWIN SISTER)
Word Count: 3060.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
"Aemond-" implored Daella, her voice tinged with desperation, "-How many more innocent lives must perish? Our family already lies shattered, broken by the flames of war, and yet you seek to continue this madness."
Aemond turned to face her, his features hardened by resolve. "The Targaryen legacy must endure, Daella-" he declared, his voice unwavering.
Daella shook her head in dismay, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "But at what cost? Aegon, Helaena, all of their children and Daeron have been lost to the chaos of the Dance of Dragons. We are all that’s left of mother’s children-must we subject her to more pain and suffering“
Aemond's jaw tightened, his grip on the hilt of Dark Sister growing ever tighter. "I will not falter now, not when victory is within my grasp." he insisted, his voice laced with bitterness.
Daella took a step closer, her gaze piercing through the darkness. "Victory?" she echoed, her voice trembling with disbelief. "What victory is there in the ashes of our family? Do you not see, Aemond? We are but shadows of what we once were, our house consumed by its own ambition".
"I will not back down," he declared, each word dripping with venomous resolve. "I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of our house, we will rebuild the Targaryen legacy and ensure it returns to its former glory”.
“-And how exactly are you going to that-in case you hadn’t noticed the Targaryen’s are in short supply at the moment” said Daella.
“For now-but once you birth the babe you currently carry, I will wait for the sufficient amount of time for you to heal and then I will get you with child again-“
“I’m not your broodmare” snapped Daella.
“You are my wife-it is your duty to provide me with as many children as I desire”,
Daella watched him, her heart heavy with despair. "Where has my sweet husband gone?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the echoes of his fervent proclamation. "You’re not the Aemond I know. You’ve changed and not for the better”
But Aemond paid her words no heed, his mind consumed by thoughts of retribution.
In his eye burned the fires of vengeance, casting shadows across the once noble features that now seemed twisted by the weight of his pursuit of power.
Daella's heart ached as she reached out to gently grasp Aemond's hand, her touch a silent plea for him to listen, to remember the love they once shared amidst the chaos that surrounded them.
With trembling lips, she spoke words heavy with emotion, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with desperation.
"Aemond, what of our child that I carry," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. "-Please let us leave this place, just you and me. We can raise our child away from this war, away from all the death."
Her words hung in the air, a fragile hope clinging to the shadows of the throne room.
But Aemond's gaze remained cold and unyielding, his hand tightening around hers with a grip that spoke of determination rather than tenderness.
"We cannot flee, Daella," he declared, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "Our enemies must be vanquished. I will not rest until all who oppose us are dead".
Daella recoiled at his words, her heart breaking with each syllable that fell from his lips. "But at what cost, Aemond?" she pleaded, her voice trembling with anguish. "Do you not see the madness that consumes you? Our child deserves better than a life steeped in bloodshed and revenge."
But Aemond remained unmoved, his eye blazing with a fervour that chilled her to the core. "I will do what must be done," he vowed, his words a solemn oath that echoed through the empty halls of the Red Keep.
“-And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Daella as she ran a hand over her round stomach.
"You have no idea the sacrifices I have made," he spat, each word laced with bitterness. "You do not understand what I have endured, what I have done to take the crown-"
Daella recoiled at the intensity of his words, her heart heavy with sorrow and disbelief. And then, as realization dawned upon her like a bolt of lightning.
"It was you wasn’t it, you killed Aegon," she accused, her voice trembling with accusation. "You murdered our brother."
Aemond's expression remained stoic, his features hardened by the weight of his confession. "It was a mercy killing," he declared, his voice devoid of remorse. "Sunfyre was badly damaged after the fight with Meleys at Rooks Rest and Aegon severely injured, his bones twisted and broken, his armour melted onto his skin”.
“S-So you just took it upon yourself to kill him-he was our brother, our King” said Daella.
“It was a kindness to put him out of his misery” replied Aemond.
“You say that it was Meleys who injured Aegon, but how do I know that it wasn’t really you. Three dragons took to the skies that day and only one survived. Awfully convenient isn’t it-the lone survivor able to spin any tale he likes”.
“-I survived, Aegon didn’t what more is there to say” said Aemond.
His words struck Daella like a physical blow, leaving her reeling with shock and revulsion.
The man she had once loved, the father of her unborn child, stood before her as a stranger, a cold and calculating figure consumed by his own ambition.
Horrified by the depths of darkness that now lurked within him, Daella could only stare in silent disbelief, her heart breaking with each passing moment as she realized the true extent of the monster her husband had become.
Daella's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and resolve as she met Aemond's gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Aemond-you're breaking my heart-" she whispered, her words a desperate plea for him to see reason, to turn away from the darkness that threatened to consume him.
But Aemond's response was not one of understanding or compassion.
Instead, his features contorted with rage, his eye wild with madness as he reached out to grasp the back of her neck with a vice-like grip.
"Our mother turned against me," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Don't you turn against me."
Daella's breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers tighten around her neck, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.
She stared into his eye, once so full of warmth and affection, now clouded by a darkness she could scarcely comprehend.
“A-Aemond” gasped Daella.
“I killed Lucerys, I chased him and his pathetic mouse of a dragon through the skies above Storms End-I watched as Vhagar tore him and his little dragon to shreds-“
“Y-You told me it was an accident” said Daella.
“I told you only what you wanted to hear, my sweet wife pacified by my false words of remorse and my cock-fucked you good that night didn't I-Do you remember how ravenous I was, how I made you peak over and over, my desire for you was unrestrained” exclaimed Aemond smirking.
“J-Jaehaerys. He was killed because of what you did-it’s your fault he’s dead, our sweet sister lost to madness after what she witnessed after what they made her do-she took her own life”.
"I killed Daemon-this you know" declared Aemond, his words dripping with cold satisfaction. "-I struck down the once great Rogue Prince along with his dragon, their bodies left to rot in the waters of the Gods Eye and I would do it again without hesitation."
The air seemed to grow thick with the weight of his words, and the shadows that danced across the walls of the chamber seemed to whisper of the darkness that lurked within his soul.
"My spies on Dragonstone have informed that word of Daemon's death has reached our half-sister-" he spat, his eyes ablaze with fury. "-And that wretched whore has fled across the Narrow Sea with her only surviving son."
Daella recoiled at the venom in his words, her heart heavy with sorrow at the thought of their family torn asunder by treachery and bloodshed.
"W-What will you do?”
Aemond's laugh was cold and mirthless, sending shivers down her spine. "I will hunt them down, no matter where they hide. There is no place they can run, no sanctuary they can find, that will protect them from my wrath- "
Daella's heart sank at his words, the realization dawning upon her that there was no reasoning with the darkness that threatened to consume him.
Tears welled in Daella's amethyst eyes as she pleaded with Aemond, her voice trembling with desperation and love, as she reached out to him.
"Please-" begged Daella; her words choked with emotion. "-Don’t do this“
“I will extinguish our half-sister’s line once and for all”.
“Aemond-you’re going down a path I can't follow” exclaimed Daella.
“-ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond (Wife).
“-Because of what you've done, what you plan to do, I beg you to stop this madness. I love you Valzȳrys " (Husband).
Her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through his long silver hair, seeking to soothe the storm raging within him, to bring him back from the edge of darkness that threatened to consume him.
But Aemond's singular eye remained wild, his expression twisted with a madness that sent shivers down her spine.
"There is no turning back," declared Aemond, his voice a harsh rasp that echoed through the chamber. "I will not rest until our enemies are vanquished, and justice is served."
Daella recoiled at the coldness in his tone, the distance that had grown between them, until she felt as though she no longer knew the man standing before her.
The realization of his descent into madness struck her like a physical blow, leaving her heartbroken and afraid.
As she stared into his eye, searching for some trace of the man she loved, but she knew that she could no longer reach him, that the darkness that consumed him was now beyond her grasp.
Daella's voice trembled with fear as she spoke, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth she could no longer deny. "I'm frightened, Aemond," she confessed, her words barely above a whisper. "Frightened of what you've become, of the darkness that consumes you."
Aemond's expression softened at her words, a flicker of something resembling remorse crossing his features as he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a tight embrace, the roundness of her stomach pressed against him.
"I know, my love," he murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance amidst the turmoil that surrounded them. "But together, we will conquer our fears. Together, we will rise above the chaos that has plagued our family for many years"
Daella clung to him, her heart aching with the hope that his words might hold some shred of truth, that the man she loved might still be buried somewhere beneath the layers of ambition and madness.
"But how, Aemond?" she whispered, her voice filled with uncertainty. "How can we find our way back from this darkness?"
Aemond's grip tightened around her, his fingers digging into her back.
"Once Rhaenyra and her last remaining child are dead," declared Aemond, his voice low and menacing, "Then together, we will rule the Seven Kingdoms as King and Queen. Our wastrel of a brother wasn't fit to rule, and neither is Rhaenyra."
"What of those who supported Rhaenyra?" asked Daella, her words barely audible above the hushed whispers of the shadows that surrounded them.
Aemond's gaze hardened at the question, his jaw set in a grim line as he met her gaze with a chilling resolve. "They will have a choice," he replied, his voice cold and unforgiving. "They will either bow to me and acknowledge me as their King, or they will face the consequences."
Daella recoiled at the cruelty in his words, the brutality that lurked behind his steely exterior. "But Aemond-" she protested, her voice tinged with desperation, "-Surely there must be another way. The realm cannot be subjected to another war-Vhagar and Vermithor are the only remaining dragons that have riders, and I am due to birth our child very soon”.
Aemond's grip tightened around her, his eye blazing with a fervour that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Every single one who opposes me will suffer," he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber with a chilling finality. "There can be no mercy for those who dare to stand against the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."
Daella's heart sank at his words, the weight of his ruthless ambition pressing down upon her like a leaden weight.
In that moment, she knew that the man she had once loved was gone, replaced by a tyrant consumed by his own thirst for power.
Daella's voice trembled with resolve as she drew back from Aemond's embrace, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I'll have no part in your anger and lust for power," she declared, her words ringing with a quiet strength that belied the fear that gnawed at her heart.
Aemond's expression darkened at her defiance, his features contorted with rage as he reached out to grasp her arm, his grip like iron.
"You cannot walk away from this, Daella," growled Aemond, his voice a low warning that sent a shiver down her spine. "You are MY wife, and you will stand by my side."
But Daella stood her ground, her gaze unwavering as she met his with a steely resolve of her own. "I cannot stand by while you destroy everything-” she insisted, her voice firm despite the tremor that betrayed her inner turmoil. "I will not be complicit in your madness."
Aemond's grip tightened around Daella's arm as she attempted to pull away, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising intensity.
"You will not leave me," hissed Aemond, his voice a low, menacing growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You belong to me, Daella. YOU ARE MINE!!."
Daella recoiled at the possessiveness in his tone, the fear that clawed at her heart as she stared into his eyes, now darkened by the depths of his rage and desperation.
"Let me go, Aemond," pleaded Daella, her voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and fear. "I cannot stay here with you, not like this."
But Aemond's grip only tightened further, his eyes ablaze with a fervour that bordered on madness. "If you dare leave me," he snarled, his voice laced with a chilling threat, "I will rip the world apart until I find you. There will be no place you can hide, no sanctuary you can seek, that will protect you from me-"
“Stop-“ begged Daella.
“I will kill you before I let you leave me” snarled Aemond.
Daella looked at her husband and knew he was serious, never before had he threatened her in such a manner and now as she stood before him, there was only one option left to her-
Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Daella leaned forward and pressed her lips against Aemond's, her kiss filled with a mixture of desperation and determination.
For a fleeting moment, she lost herself in the embrace, her mind racing with the knowledge that this might be her only chance to escape the darkness that threatened to consume them both, to do what she must in order to protect her child.
As Aemond's lips met hers, his grip on her arm momentarily loosened, allowing her to discreetly withdraw the dagger from his belt.
With a surge of adrenaline, she plunged the blade into his chest, her hand steady despite the tremors that shook her to the core.
Aemond pulled away from the kiss, his eye widening in shock as he looked down at the dagger embedded in his chest, the hilt stained crimson with his own blood.
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of Daella's ragged breaths as she watched him with a mixture of horror and relief.
With a choked gasp, Aemond stumbled backward, landing on the stone floor with a heavy thud, his hand clutching at the dagger protruding from his chest.
Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his green doublet, his gaze fixed on Daella with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.
With tears streaming down her face, Daella knelt beside Aemond, wrapping her arms around him as he gasped for breath, his life slipping away with each ragged breath.
"I'm sorry," she whispered through choked sobs, her voice breaking with the weight of her anguish. "I can't let you hurt anyone else. The realm cannot be ruled by a tyrant."
Aemond's eye met hers, filled with a mixture of pain and regret, as he struggled to speak. "Daella," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, "Forgive me-"
Daella leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, her heart breaking as she felt the warmth of his life fading beneath her touch. "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow and love.
As Aemond's breaths grew shallower, his eye fluttered closed, his body growing limp in her arms.
With a heavy heart, Daella held him close, cradling him as his life slipped away, leaving behind only the echoes of a once great and powerful man.
And as she laid him gently on the cold stone floor, the black crown of the Conqueror resting beside his lifeless form, Daella knew that she had done what was necessary to save the realm from the darkness that had threatened to consume it.
Suddenly, a shuffling sound behind her caught her attention, and she turned to see her mother, bending down to pick up the Conqueror's crown from where it lay beside Aemond's body.
Daella watched in silence, her heart heavy with uncertainty, as her mother approached her, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air between them.
"M-Mother"
"It was necessary-you did what you had too" muttered Alicent softly as she stared at the lifeless body of her second son.
Her darks eyes lingering on the dagger still buried in Aemond's chest, an odd mixture of sorrow and relied etched upon her face.
"What are we going to do now?" Daella whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, as Alicent turned away from Aemond and held out her hand to her daughter, her last remaining child.
Alicent's expression softened as she took Daella's hand in hers, her touch gentle yet firm as she helped her daughter to stand.
With a solemn grace, she placed the crown of the Conqueror upon Daella's head, the weight of its significance settling upon her.
"Now-" Alicent said, her voice steady and reassuring, "-You will rule".
The End.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x original female character#aemond#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#kcktfics
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Here With Me II.
Summary:
Aemond deals with the reappearance of Alys.
Warning(s): Alys, Language, Angst, Drama, Kissing, Allusion to Smut.
AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C BILLIE SKYLARK
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Word Count: 3000
Tag List - @zenka69, @0eessirk8, @dixie-elocin, @wickedfrsgrl, @immyowndefender
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
Aemond's heart sank as he took in the scene before him, his mind going back and forth between disbelief and rage. "Alys," he said, his voice tinged with incredulity. "What are you doing here?"
Alys' eyes narrowed as she met his gaze, a calculating smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I came to see you, Aemond, to tell you-" she replied smoothly, her voice honeyed with false sincerity.
Aemond's stomach churned with unease as he realized what Alys was implying. "-No," he said firmly, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "That's not possible."
But Alys merely laughed "Oh, but it is, Aemond-" she insisted, her tone dripping with scorn. "This child is yours."
Aemond's mind raced as he struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding before him. He knew in his heart that Alys' claims were false, that she was using this as a ploy to manipulate him.
But the sight of her standing there heavily pregnant, with Billie looking confused and hurt, filled him with a sense of dread and despair.
"No," he repeated, his voice growing louder with each word. "I won't let you do this."
But Alys merely smirked, her eyes glinting with triumph. "You don't have a choice, Aemond," she taunted, her voice filled with malicious glee. "You will acknowledge this child, whether you like it or not."
"It's not my child," insisted Aemond, his tone firm and unwavering. "I haven't slept with you in well over a year. I've been in a committed relationship with Billie."
Alys scoffed, her eyes flashing with scorn. "Oh, please," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What about that time nine months ago? Or have you conveniently forgotten that incident in the back your car?"
Aemond's jaw clenched with anger at Alys' blatant lies, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I never slept with you nine months ago," he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration.
Alys' smirk faltered, her confidence wavering in the face of Aemond's anger.
“Aemond”
"No, Alys," he declared, his words laced with certainty. "The baby is not mine, besides I always used protection with you-"
Alys rolled her eyes, her disbelief evident in her expression. "Oh, please," she scoffed, her voice tinged with frustration. "No method is 100% effective."
Aemond's jaw clenched with frustration at Alys' stubborn refusal to accept the truth. "I'm well aware of that fact," he conceded through gritted teeth. "But what is 100% effective is NOT having sex with you at all. You're a fucking liar, Alys".
Alys' face flushed with anger at his accusation, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "How dare you!" she seethed, her voice trembling with rage. "You can't just deny your responsibility like this!"
But Aemond remained unmoved, his gaze steady and unwavering as he faced her down. "I'm not denying anything," he replied evenly. "I'm simply stating the truth”.
Obviously realising what she was doing wasn't working, Alys tried another tactic, she smiled sweetly and reached out towards Aemond, her hand running up his arm.
“Aemy baby-please, we were so good together, what we had was special“ muttered Alys.
"No it wasn't Alys-you treat me like shit" snarked Aemond snatching his arm away from her grasp.
"I made a mistake-sweet boy" whispered Alys.
"No-the mistake was mine-I never should have got involved with you in the first place" replied Aemond.
"You were nothing before you met me. I made you the man you are" replied Alys.
"No-Alys. It was getting away from you and being with Billie that made me who I am"
"But the sex we had-the way we were with one another-"
"-It was disgusting" replied Aemond.
"She knows how you like it does she?"
"Alys-don't-" warned Aemond.
"We can have it again baby-remember, how we would-"
"-NO. When I was with you, I felt hollow, I felt disgusted with myself-you want to talk about our sex? how about the times where you would make me feel like I was nothing-how you would belittle and hurt me, then demand I spend hours pleasing you in bed-"
"Aemond" gasped Billie her hand covering her mouth.
"I felt sick to my stomach whenever you wanted me to touch you-the countless times I had to fantasize about someone else to get me through it-" said Aemond wiping his nose on his sleeve.
"You liar-" snarled Alys.
"That's rich coming from you-" quipped Aemond.
"-And you want her?" scoffed Alys.
"Yes-" replied Aemond firmly.
"What does she have that I don't?" asked Alys in disbelief.
"Everything"
"-And you really think that she's going to stick around and help you raise our child?"
"For the love of all that is holy-I'm not the FUCKING father"
"Yes you are-" muttered Alys.
"No I'm not-get it through your head. There's only one woman I've ever fucked in my car and it certainly wasn't you-it was Billie"
"Aemond-" exclaimed Billie.
"She'd spent the day with Helaena, and from the second she was away from me-I missed her. I spent the day imagining how I would make love to her. I got myself so worked up that when I picked her up I couldn't contain myself-I just had to have her-"
"-You-" gasped Alys.
"-That desire, the primal need-the not being able to wait. I was so desperate for her that I tore her clothes from her body and sank my self inside her so deep-I couldn't tell where I ended and she began"
"T-That-" uttered Alys.
"Billie makes me feel like I'm the centre of her world, she makes me feel special, she loves me for who I am-not what I am. You have never made me feel like that" admitted Aemond.
"Aemond-" whispered Billie
"Billie, you have to believe me," he implored, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you, and I would never betray your trust like this."
Billie's eyes softened with empathy, her hand reaching out to gently grasp his. "I believe you, Aemond, I trust you-I know you’re not the father" she reassured him, her voice filled with unwavering certainty.
“What?” exclaimed Alys.
"Aegon is” stated Billie, her voice steady but filled with accusation.
Alys' eyes widened in shock, her mask of confidence slipping for the first time since she entered the room. "How do you know?" she demanded, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
Billie's gaze hardened as she explained, "It's your perfume, Alys. I remember smelling it on Aegon the night Aemond introduced me to his family."
Aemond's eye widened in understanding as he recalled the events of that evening—
"You mentioned he had an odour about him," Aemond interjected, his voice filled with realization. "But I thought it was just a joke."
Billie nodded; her certainty unwavering. "It wasn't a joke," she affirmed. "It was the truth."
Alys' face paled as the weight of Billie's accusation settled upon her. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out.
Billie's resolve strengthened as she took a step closer to Alys, her senses homed in on the familiar scent that lingered in the air around her. With a furrowed brow, she inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she sought confirmation of her suspicions.
And then, without a shadow of doubt, she nodded resolutely. "I'd never forget a stench like that," she declared, her voice firm and unwavering.
Aemond's patience snapped like a taut rope, his eye blazing with fury as he advanced towards Alys, his fists clenched at his sides.
"How dare you!" he roared, his voice reverberating with anger and betrayal. "How dare you come into my home and spin your web of lies, trying to manipulate me and the woman I love!"
Alys recoiled at the intensity of his rage, her eyes widening in fear as she backed away. "Aemond, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. "I didn't mean—"
But Aemond cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, his anger boiling over like a volcano on the brink of eruption. "Don't you dare try to play innocent with me," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You knew exactly what you were doing”
"I told Aegon about the baby, but he refused to have anything to do with it."
Aemond's eye narrowed with contempt as he processed her words, his anger simmering just below the surface.
"Why should that surprise you?" he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "Aegon has multiple children with multiple women, and he doesn't accept responsibility for any of them."
Alys flinched at the harsh truth of his words, her facade of defiance crumbling under the weight of her own actions. "I thought maybe this time would be different," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I was wrong."
“You slept with my brother, and when he discarded you like the filth you are, you decide to try and lie to me? There is no way I would ever father a child with you."
Alys recoiled at the venom in his words, her face contorting with a mixture of shock and shame. "I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she stammered, her voice trembling with fear.
But Aemond's rage was unrelenting, his anger fuelled by the depth of her betrayal. "You're a liar and a manipulator," he spat, his words dripping with contempt. "You tried to use me to clean up the mess you made with my brother, but you underestimated me. I won't let you destroy my life"
“Aemond-“
"Get out," he commanded, his tone icy with contempt. "Leave this apartment, and never come back. I don't want to see your face ever again."
Alys' eyes widened in shock at the finality of his words, the weight of his rejection hitting her like a physical blow. "But Aemond, please," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "I-I still love you."
But Aemond's resolve remained unyielding, his gaze unwavering as he met her pleading eyes.
"You don’t know how to love, everything about you is a lie," he declared, his voice ringing with disdain. "Your just a fucking vampire sucking the life out of everything and everyone you come into contact with, and I want nothing to do with you. Now leave, before I make you” snarled Aemond as he wrenched the door open.
With a heavy heart, Alys made her way towards the door, her shoulders slumped with defeat.
As she crossed the threshold, she cast one final glance back at Aemond, her eyes filled with regret and sorrow.
But Aemond's gaze remained cold and impassive, his heart hardened as he slammed the door shut.
Billie stepped closer to Aemond, her heart aching for the pain he must be feeling. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a warm embrace.
Aemond hesitated for a moment, his body tense with residual anger and frustration. But as Billie's comforting touch enveloped him, he couldn't help but let out a shaky breath, the tension slowly melting away.
With a soft sigh, Aemond leaned into her embrace, allowing himself to be held by the woman who had stood by his side through it all.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his arms encircling her waist as he sought solace in her comforting presence.
Suddenly Bille felt a slight tremble run through his body.
Concerned, she pulled back slightly to look into his eye, and her heart sank as she saw the tears in his eye.
"Aemond, are you ok?" she asked softly, her voice filled with gentle concern.
Aemond took a shaky breath, his voice choked with emotion as he struggled to speak. "I-I had everything planned," he confessed, his words coming out in a broken whisper. "The perfect surprise-for you."
Billie's brow furrowed in confusion, her concern deepening. "What surprise?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Aemond's tears fell freely now, his emotions spilling over in a torrent of anguish. "I was going to cook your favourite meal," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was going to fill the apartment with your favourite flowers-And then, I was going to ask you to marry me."
Billie's breath caught in her throat at his confession, her heart skipping a beat at the enormity of his words.
"And after that," Aemond continued, his voice trembling with sorrow, "I was going to take you to bed and make love to you all night-But now, it's all ruined because of Alys and her fucking lies."
Billie's eyes brimmed with tears at the devastation in Aemond's voice, her heart breaking for the pain he was experiencing. Without hesitation, she pulled him close once more, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.
"It's not ruined, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with love and reassurance. "We'll get through this together. And when the time is right, we'll have our perfect moment-I love you, and nothing can change that."
“I just can’t believe that audacity of her to show up like that-“ muttered Aemond.
“After everything you told me about her and what I just heard-it’s no surprise really” replied Billie.
“Getting pregnant with my brothers child and then trying to pass it off as mine-is there truly no depths that she wouldn’t sink too”.
“I guess she was just desperate-especially if Aegon did cast her aside,” said Billie.
“It’s her own fault-now she has to deal with the consequences, I’m just glad not to be involved in that mess anymore” replied Aemond.
“Did it feel good. Giving her a piece of your mind?” asked Billie curiously.
“It felt fucking fantastic-now where’s the whiskey. I need a drink” retorted Aemond.
In the months that followed Alys’ attempt to manipulate Aemond, many changes happened.
The first was Aemond’s insistence that they move to a new apartment, the second was that he cut ties with Aegon-he promised his mother that he wouldn’t cause any trouble and would remain cordial at family functions but other than that he didn’t want to know.
He was angry, but he was also hurt-he had not really been that close to Aegon, but he'd spent many hours talking to Aegon about his relationship with Alys and everything she put him through, and despite everything that Aemond had told him, his brother had still got involved with Alys.
It wasn't about her-he couldn't give two shits. But it was Aegon-his own brother.
But Aegon had made his bed, now he needed to lie in it. As did Alys. No doubt by now she would have had the baby, but Aemond didn’t want to know, technically the baby was his niece or nephew, but he just didn’t want to be involved.
Alys was the past and Billie was his future.
Aemond had everything he had ever wanted, and he never wanted to let it go.
His little bird, the love of his life and his soul mate.
A truly remarkable woman who was the light of his life, she would spend hours going over different scents for the perfumes she made, often working late into the night, but she always made time for him and Aemond made sure to spend every moment he could between her soft thighs.
His ravenous appetite for carnal pleasures knew no bounds as he made a point to christen every surface in their new apartment.
He would spend many hours fucking her into exhaustion, his cock pounding into her tight wet heat.
Just thinking about bending her over the kitchen counter made Aemond's cock respond in earnest.
But it was probably not a good idea to get an erection whilst he was currently sat at the traffic lights, his fingers gripping the steering wheel of his car so tight they had turned white.
Fuck he needed to get home-he needed his little bird.
Perhaps tonight he would throw her legs over his shoulders and devour her sweet cunt until she screamed his name and then he would have her ride him afterwards.
Yes-that would do nicely.
He just had to get home first.
As Aemond returned home from a long day's teaching and staff meetings, he was met with a surprise that lifted his spirits.
There, standing in the warm glow of the apartment, was Billie, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"Hey, love," she greeted him, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I have something for you."
Intrigued, Aemond approached her, curiosity dancing in his eye. "What is it?" he asked, his interest piqued.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Billie handed him a small, elegantly wrapped box, adorned with a delicate ribbon. "Open it," she urged him, her excitement palpable.
With trembling hands, Aemond carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. And there, nestled within a bed of velvet, lay a small bottle adorned with intricate designs—a bottle of perfume.
Aemond's breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon the exquisite craftsmanship, his heart swelling with gratitude for the woman who stood before him.
"It's-beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.
Billie beamed with pride, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I finished it a few weeks ago, it’s the scent I made in your honour" she confessed, her voice tinged with excitement. "I named it Sapphire".
Aemond's eye widened in surprise at the unexpected choice of name, his mind racing.
"Sapphire?" he repeated.
Billie nodded, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Yes," she explained. "After the gemstone that you have in the place of your missing eye."
Aemond's heart swelled with emotion at the thoughtful gesture, his eye welling with tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Billie-I’m truly honoured" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.
But Billie wasn't finished yet.
With a flourish, she uncapped the bottle, releasing a soft, delicate scent that filled the air with its intoxicating aroma—a scent that spoke of love, of devotion, of the bond that bound them together.
"It's soft with a hint of vanilla," Billie explained, her voice filled with pride. "Just like you."
Overwhelmed by the depth of her love and the beauty of her gift, Aemond pulled her into his arms, holding her close as tears of gratitude streamed down his cheeks.
“It’s perfect my love-“ replied Aemond.
"Guess what, Aemond?" she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "The scent is already trending on social media, and the pre-sales are larger than anything I ever anticipated."
Aemond's eyes widened in astonishment, his heart swelling with pride for the woman he loved. "That's amazing, Billie!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I'm so proud of you."
Billie beamed with joy at his words, her heart soaring with happiness. "Thank you, Aemond," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without your love and support."
"I love you-" whispered Aemond.
"-I love you too Issa zaldrīzes" replied Billie smiling (My dragon).
"W-What did you just say?" asked Aemond.
"Oh-did I say it wrong, I know how much you like ancient languages and I ordered a Valyrian phrase book in Braille-and I was practising, oh god this is so embrassing-" stammered Billie fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.
"No-you said it perfectly. I-I was just surprised that's all. What else can you say?"
"Avy jorrāelan issa dārys-" (I love you my King).
Billie didn't get to tell Aemond what else she learned as he hauled her over his shoulder and took her to their bedroom.
Where he spent the night worshipping Zȳhon dāria. (His queen).
Her legs thrown over his shoulders as he devoured her sweet cunt, making her sob with pleasure as she came on his tongue and fingers.
Then he sheathed his hard cock inside her. He had her many times that night, in many positions, filling her to the brim with his seed until she passed out from pleasure and exhaustion-his cock still nestled inside her.
He was going to ask her-he needed to ask her. As he slept that night-he dreamt of seeing her round with his child, his large hand running over the swell of her stomach, the ring on her finger sparkling in the sunlight.
As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the room, Aemond watched with a smile as Billie slept peacefully beside him.
With a gentle touch, he traced the delicate petals of a long-stemmed rose along the curve of her body, eliciting a soft giggle from her lips as it tickled her skin.
Billie stirred awake, her laughter fading into a contented sigh as she opened her eyes "Good morning, love," she murmured, her voice filled with warmth and affection.
"Good morning, my darling," Aemond replied, his eye sparkling with adoration.
Billie shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Not at all," she assured him. "What are you up to?"
Aemond's smile widened as he leaned down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, his heart overflowing with love. "I just wanted to tell you how much I love you," he whispered against her lips, his voice filled with emotion.
Billie's heart swelled with happiness at his words, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. "I love you too, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness.
Taking a deep breath, Aemond put the rose on the bedside table and reached into his pocket, producing a small velvet box.
"Whilhelmina Skylark," he began, his voice trembling with nervous excitement. "Will you marry me?"
Tears of joy streamed down Billie's cheeks, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "Yes, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I will marry you."
Aemond's heart skipped a beat as Billie's words sank in, a surge of joy and excitement coursing through him like a tidal wave.
"I want to marry you as soon as possible, I don’t want to wait" he declared, his voice filled with eager anticipation.
But before he could even finish his sentence, Billie let out a joyful laugh, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, you might have too, as I have a surprise of my own," she interjected, her voice laced with excitement.
Aemond's brow furrowed in curiosity as he watched her reach into the drawers beside their bed, his mind racing with possibilities.
What could she possibly have in store for him?
And then, with a flourish, Billie pulled out a small white object, holding it out for him to see.
Aemond's eye widened in astonishment—a positive pregnancy test.
"I'm pregnant," Billie announced, her voice trembling with emotion. "-Helaena knows, she was with me when I did the test."
Aemond's heart swelled with an overwhelming flood of joy and love, his eye brimming with tears of happiness.
"Billie," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x original female character#aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#kcktfics
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Scorched Hearts XXI - Sneek Peek!
Summary:
'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'
Jaehaerys is plagued by guilt and fears for his life when he encounters Aemond.
Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Violence, Guilt, Remorse, Fear, Uncle/Niece Incest,
AEMOND x O.C Niece
Word Count: TBA
A.N - Used Young Aemond as Face Claim for Rhaegar..
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx
They wouldn’t understand.
His mother—his dear, sweet mother—would never forgive him for what he had done.
And his sister, his beautiful sister-gods she would surely turn from him.
The shame, the disgust, would surely consume them all.
What if I have ruined everything?
The thought kept swirling in his mind, heavy and suffocating. He couldn’t even look at his family, let alone face Valaena after what he had done.
He had defiled her—the future Queen—and now he would be cast out.
I could run, he thought suddenly. I could take Shrykos and disappear. Fly across the Narrow Sea, never to be seen again.
But then another thought came to him: Or I could face the consequences. Be a man and accept whatever punishment comes my way.
The bile rose in his throat again as he took a few unsteady steps into the corridor.
He couldn’t shake the fear—his heart hammered in his chest.
Suddenly, his worst nightmare stepped into the corridor.
Aemond.
Jaehaerys froze. His blood ran cold, and panic gripped his chest like a vice.
This is it. I’m dead. He’s going to kill me.
His feet stumbled back, his body pressing against the cold stone wall, trying to retreat from his uncle’s approach.
Aemond’s presence felt like an unrelenting storm, and Jaehaerys could do nothing but tremble, his entire body shaking as he slowly slid down the wall, landing with a thud on the floor.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but wait for Aemond to strike.
His heart raced, and the terror that had already been bubbling in his chest exploded in a wave of panic.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x oc#aemond#kcktfics
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The Lost Dragon Part 2
I - Unity, II - War, III - Grief , IV - Enraptured, V - All Together, VI - Gifted, VII - Younger I & Younger II , VII - Zaldrīzes se zokla
Special Chapter - Letters
Special Chapter - I'll Never Let You Go
Special CHapter - Tourney
Special CHapter - Vhalarr
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x original female character#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#hotd smut#hotd#jacaerys velaryon#kcktfics
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Don't Mess With My Mind.
Don't Mess With My Mind I
Don't Mess With My Mind II
Promises
I Just Can't Help Falling In Love With You
Alternate Ending.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#hotd smut#hotd#aemond#aemond smut#aemond x reader#aemond one eye#aegon targaryen x reader#hotd aegon#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x reader#kcktfics
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