#knight aemond x princess reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eraenaa · 2 years ago

Text

My Knight in Darkened Armor (Royalty AU)

Knight Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Ser Aemond Targaryen has been tasked to be the sworn protector of a princess who is overly curious about life beyond the castle walls and has bribed him to escort her to the city in exchange for anything he desires. She just did not know that what he desired was her.

Word Count: 4,373

Warnings: Mature, 18+, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, jealousy, possessive

Carnival—your favorite time of the year. The only chance for you to leave the cushioned walls of the keep that your father was intent on keeping you in. Sheltered and stored— protected and preserved. You now marvel at the scene outside. Merriment in every corner, cheers and hollers everywhere your carriage passed. “Stay close to your knight… danger lurks even in the happiest of days,” your father warned. You mindlessly nod as you smile at the outside world that you were rarely given a taste of.

As you stepped out of the wheelhouse, your knight in his ever-dark armor waited for you. His hand led out to escort you toward a tent in the middle of the town square. The performers were ready to entertain you and your King father, as well as the others who merrily celebrated the day. “Enough scowling; it is the most joyous of days,” You said to your knight. Ever since he was assigned to you, he had been overly serious— overly protective. Entirely strict and hard to be rid of, never leaving you out of his sight, not even for a moment. His eye always trailed and followed your every move in case the danger you doubted would occur finally happened. “It is as well the most dangerous of days there is, princess.” He answered stoically. Eye passing through the crowd, searching for any threats.

“You often speak of danger, but there is clearly none. Try to enjoy yourself… you are still a man who feels under all that armor, yes?” You asked, your gaze flying upwards to the knight who stood by your right. You gazed up at him, searching for his eye through visor. When you locked upon his unique lilac eye, you dare say you saw a hint of mirth in them.

When the performances began, you lost yourself in the scenes before you. Actors that were so greatly gifted in their talents, for they have managed to sway your mind and made you believe that all the stories they told were true. However, at times, you would hear Aemond scoff his disagreement at a scene. You were glad of his annoyance and disagreement because it meant that he as well, did watch the performance.

When it was time for your father to name the victorious performers who had the most believable presentation, the king stood, and Aemond, along with another knight, stood behind him in protection—leaving you to be faced with their backs, finally unattended. As all citizens had their gazes planted on their king, you, for the first time in your life, did something you were not supposed to do. You indulged yourself and escaped their almost suffocating hold disguised as protection and safety. You have lived in your kingdom for seven and ten years, but the extent of your knowledge of it was the mere castle walls— you intend to change that matter, and you intend to see the kingdom you were to inherit when the time comes.

Aemond moved his head behind to look upon you once more, but he felt his stomach pit as the seat meant for you was now empty. The cloak you wore as you exited the wheelhouse was gone as well. Aemond turned to the king who now realized you were now gone. “Find her quickly.” The king gritted, hoping none notice your escape, fearing that his sheltered child would be made a prey by the small folk. “Now!” The king roared, and Aemond quickly ran to his steed and searched for you, the princess.

You walked the streets of your kingdom, your hood covering you from exposure. Everything was almost so unfamiliar to you, but you find your blood spiking in thrill for all the experiences you were yet to discover. You watched as a group gathered, and your curiosity led you to them. You felt your lips twitch as men used pots and mere objects to produce music. Your gaze went towards the young man in the middle, singing a different and new tune that had captured all’s attention and ears, even yours. His hazel eyes scanned the crowds that swayed upon his song. His hand moved to comb his brown locks, and he winked at a group of girls around your age, making them squeal and blush. You watched as others moved and gave them coins, appreciation for the music they performed.

When their song ended, the group that surrounded them dissolved little by little, and that was when you decided to offer your appreciation as well. Bending down to offer two silver coins, hoping it would serve as motivation for them to continue to perform such a great song. You kept your head low and did not engage with anyone, but still, you were noticed. “Hello,” the young man with a melodious voice greeted. Your eyes moved to look upon him, who gazed at you, trying to make out what you covered under your hood. “Hello,” You said as well, un certain on what to do. “I… I hoped you liked our performance; if you did, we have another one tomorrow night,” he said, still trying to see your face clearly. “I did… it was quite good,” you answered and tried to back away, but a stray dog that passed behind you made you trip and start to lose balance.

Luckily, the young man before you was quick to take hold of your arm and pull you steady. But in exchange for your balance was your cover, your hood falling back and revealing your face. You feel your cheeks heat as realization comes to the hazel orbs of the young man before you. “Your hi—“ You quickly shook your head and shushed him, “Please, don’t,” You said and raised your hood once more, warily looking around to see if anyone else saw you. “What are you doing here? Your hig—“ The young man whose hold still has not left yours tried to call you upon your title once more, but you gave him a pointed look that made his words die on his tongue, a look of sheepishness coming to his face.

“What is your name?” You asked, “Jacaerys,” He answered. You smiled and gave a nod, “I wanted to see the city. They rarely let me outside castle walls,” You explained to the stranger; it was not smart of you, but there was something about him. Something warm and a sense of trustworthiness that made you tell him the truth. Jacaerys raised his brow, “You escaped your guards?” He asked, and you slowly nodded. Before either of you could speak again, you heard the furious gallops of a horse. And almost instantly, your body knew who was to approach. You and Jacaerys turned to see your sworn shield cutting through the crowds in search of you. You thought about running, still wanting to see more, but it was too late as you felt the familiar gaze of his lone eye upon you.

“Remove your hold on the princess, Jacaerys,” You hear him call menacingly. You furrow your brow as to why he already knew the young man’s name. “Un—“ Aemond raised his hand and silenced the boy. Using his other hand to pull you to him. You had no room to argue or plea as you felt Ser Aemond’s hard and rough hold upon your waist, lifting you to mount his steed. You watched as your knight moved closer to Jacaerys, bending down to whisper something in his ear. You watched as the boy’s face grew pale, but you could not voice out your concern or ask if he was well because Aemond moved to mount his horse, sitting behind you and swiftly galloping away. You sat in silence and almost fear as Aemond had his arms around your waist, the two of you riding towards the castle where your father waited with a sermon.

“Is he angry?” You ask your knight as you neared the castle gates. Hoping he would slow his steed down so you would not be delivered to your punishment so soon. Aemond smirked at your question, taking a deep breath and savoring the smell of you. He let his horse gallop slower, wanting to prolong the time he had you in his arms for a while more. “You escaped during the most crowded day of the year— where all people from the entire kingdom… thieves, murderers, and criminals could go about in plain sight. What do you think, princess?” He asked and kept his smirk as he heard you puff and lean your back to his chest. “You’ll be fine; we both know your father is very lenient when it comes to you,” Aemond tried to console you as he saw the adorable pout on your pink lips. His mind filled with a thought he should never entertain.

You stood before your father in his study. Head hung low in shame. He had not said a word yet, simply stewing in his anger, but you already feel tears welling in your eyes. You hear the creek of his chair as he stands, and that is when the first pearl tear escapes your eyes and lands on the floor. You hear your father sigh, “I have yet to say anything why then do you already cry?” He asked and made you lift your gaze. “I’m sorry!” You quickly said. You could not bear it when he was cross with you; just the slight tone of disappointment in his voice and the look in his eyes was enough for you to cry for forgiveness. “I just wanted to learn more about our kingdom— I wanted to see how our people live and what they do.” You reasoned. That was your main goal when you slipped away. You were only distracted by the song Jacaerys and his group performed.

You looked upon your father, teary-eyed, watching him sigh and shake his head. “You will do no such thing again, do you understand?” He asked sternly, and you quickly nodded your head and left his study when he dismissed you. Outside in the hall, your knight waited for you, ready with a handkerchief to wipe away your tears. “Thank you,” You said quietly, and Aemond gave a nod. His helmet was finally removed, and you could see his straight silver hair gleaming in the evening light. You’ve always been jealous of his hair; you’ve always wanted to run your hands through it, but it was deemed inappropriate, so you never could.

When he accompanied you to your chambers, you had a question in mind. “How do you know Jacaerys?” You asked and paused in your tracks, looking before the knight who had a forever serious look on his face. He stayed silent for a moment, but you kept your expecting gaze upon him. “He is a very distant relative,” He finally answered, and you gave a nod. “Why did you not say you are acquainted with a performer— a good one at that? I have been looking for entertainment. Perhaps Father could invite him and his group to sing a song of two here,” You mused and watched a scowl start to spread on his face. “It is best not to, princess.” Ser Aemond answered. You frowned at the animosity in his voice. “Why not?” You asked. Aemond clenched his jaw at your questions and intrigue upon his nephew. “Good night princess,” Aemond said as you were now before your chamber door. You frowned as he avoided your question but ultimately sighed and entered your room, knowing he would not answer it.

The following day, as you broke your fast, you found yourself humming the tune you heard the day before. Your mind reminding you of the invitation said that Jacaerys and his group were to perform once more that night. You chewed on your lip as there was a part of you that wanted to watch and escape again. You stared at your knight, who stood still at his post, wondering how to escape him.

Aemond gulped and urged himself not to waver as he felt your steady gaze upon him. He felt his knees grow weak with each passing moment you kept your brilliant eyes on his frame; he felt himself grow warm by the look of concentration on your pretty face. “Is there something you need, princess?” He finally asked. He watched you blink, plush lips parting before him, indecent thoughts plaguing his mind. “I…” You began. Watching as your sworn shield walked closer to you, his imposing demeanor enveloping you. You quite liked that about him— how petrifying he looked and acted, but with the year he was assigned to you, you saw through the cracks of his cold and hard armor, and it revealed softness and warmth. “Can you come with me to the city t—“ You could not even finish to word out your request as he was quick to shake his head. “No.” He said decisively. Aemond bit his tongue as a dejected look came to your eyes, and your lips formed the unconscious pout you always had when things did not go your way. “Please— I swear I’ll behave. I w—“ Aemond sighed and shook his head once more. “No. If your father ever heard about me sneaking you out of the castle— he will have my head.” He said, but you only disagreed. “He won’t! I swear of it!” You said, but your knight only scoffed and rolled his lone eye in disbelief.

“Please! I’ll give you whatever you desire if you take me to the city tonight,” You tried to bribe him. Aemond clenched his jaw as your eyes widened, begging him to agree. His mind, as well, did not miss the bribe you clearly uttered without shame. But he was more shameless, for he agreed. He felt his heart stutter as you beamed at him, bouncing in your seat in joy; his eye caught as your ample chest heaved when you did the action. His mind running with thoughts, his body turning alight. Aemond cleared his throat and returned to his post and willed himself to be rid of such disgraceful thoughts.

Aemond swallowed hard as he had his hand clasped around yours. Him guiding you through the crowded streets of your kingdom. “Your hood,” Aemond warned, pulling you closer to him. He reluctantly brought you back to the street, where you watched his nephew perform. He felt enraged over the fact that the only reason you wanted to leave the castle walls and rebelled against your father’s wishes was to see his bastard nephew perform. He placed you and himself behind the crowd. You urged him to go closer, but you were refused. “I have told you we will not engage with anyone.” He sternly warned.

You did not miss the animosity in his voice once again and how his scowl was deeper. The performance was starting, a folk song made by their group, but your attention was on the knight whose hold now traveled to your waist and held you close and tight to him. “Why are you angry?” You asked. His eye scanned around to see if there was danger. “I am not,” He answered. “You are,” you insisted. Aemond’s jaw clenched as he saw his nephew you spot you two, moving towards the princess in his grasp. You let out a sound surprise as your knight started to drag you through the streets once more, ignoring your call as he made furious steps that you could not quite match.

“Aemond!” You called, and he finally halted, pulling you towards a dark and narrow alley. “Why did you want to watch him? Why did you want to see Jacaerys again?” He asked furiously. You stared wide eyed as you had never seen such fury in his eye. “I…I,” you stuttered in slight fear. “You were willing to endanger yourself— willing to let your father grow angry with you once more, all for him? All for Jacaerys?” He seethed, and you started to see a familiar yet foreign emotion in him. “Are you jealous?” You dare ask. His face was so close to you that your breathing started to mix, and you could see clearly the scar that ran down the left side of his face. “No,” He said unconvincingly after a moment. You raised your brow, “You were fine escorting me out of the castle walls earlier… but once you learned that I wanted to watch their performance, you grew irritable… are you jealous, Ser Aemond?” You asked even though you knew the answer.

Aemond narrowed his eye at the speck of amusement in your orbs. His face threaded closer, and only now did he grow aware of how flushed your bodies were against each other. He felt his eye flash dangerously as he caught you licking your lips as you gazed at him with your innocent eyes. Your plush pink lips parted again, and the thoughts he tried hard to suppress and ignore were now the only thing on his mind. “You owe me something, princess,” He instead said, pushing his body closer to your frame that was backed up on the alley wall. “I have taken you to the city… now you must give me something that I desire.” You swallowed at the deep tone of his voice, at the dark look in his eye, and how he trapped you to your place with arms. “And… and what is that do you desire? Coin? Something valuable and pretty like jewels, perhaps?” You asked. You watched him smirk and lightly shake his head. “Oh… it is very valuable— overly pretty as well, but no, not jewels, princess.” He whispered. You feel your heart stutter, your breathing caught in your throat as his face inched closer. “Then… then what is that you want?” You asked. You watch him smirk, his hold on your waist growing tighter. “You.” You whimper as his lips pressed against yours. His lips were warm, punishing, and soft.

Aemond wanted to scream at himself— hinder himself, and declare himself mad for doing such actions. To kiss the princess that he had sworn an oath to protect. But as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening your kiss, he could not be bothered by his sensibilities. He could not be bothered by propriety as your lips danced against each other. Clinging and never wanting to part. “Oh, Aemond,” You called as you parted for air, but the knight would only let you take one breath before intertwining your lips again— to be lost in pleasure again. “Tell me you want me too,” Aemond almost begged as he parted your lips again. You gazed up at him, lilac eye hopeful and wanting. “I want you, A—“ You could not finish your sentence as he took hold of your hand again and started to pull you out of the alley.

Your mind was dazed as you followed him, as you let him take you wherever it was. It took you longer to realize that you were inside castle walls once more, nearing your bed chambers. He turned to you; his wanting eye filled with lust slowly started to be filled with uncertainty, but you shook your head. He had managed to stir something within you, a burn, a coil inside that made you grow crazed.

You pulled him to your chambers, “I did promise you that I’ll give you what you desired,” You whispered and stood to the tip of your toes to kiss his lips. Your hand searched for his and guided them to undo the laces of your gown. He called upon your name, uncertain as he reluctantly parted your lips, but you shook your head. “I want you.” You said. It was the truth; ever since he was made to be your sworn protector, you could not help but be attracted to him. Him and his handsome scowling face. Him and his cold and rough but gentle touch. Him and his unique platinum hair and alluring lilac eye.

You heard him groan, and you feared he would leave, but you smirked as he placed his lips against yours once more and started to undo the laces of your dress. “On the bed, now.” He ordered, and you obeyed quickly. You were now only dressed in your shift— sheer and light. You were positive he could see every single trace of your being.

You sat by the edge of the bed, anticipating what he was to do next. You blushed as he started to remove his clothing. “Have I ever told you how pretty you look when you blush?” He asked, and that only deepened the color in your cheeks, eliciting a chuckle from him. You feel your heartbeat spike as he walks closer to you, your knight now only dressed in his trousers—a prominent bulge in the middle called for your attention. You sighed as he kissed your lips again, his hand coming to take hold of yours, doing the same as you did, guiding your hand to rest upon the dent in his pants. “Do you feel what you do to me, princess?” He asked, his lips moving to kiss your neck, his hand guiding you to stroke his length. You could only let out a small moan in response.

You took in a harsh breath as Aemond moved you to lie down, anticipation coursing through your veins. “Are you certain?” He asked as his lips hung above yours; you nodded and met his thin lips to be lost in his sweet kisses. You whimper as his hand moves to cup your tit, giving it a firm squeeze, the bud growing taut upon his touch. His other hand stopped guiding yours as it moved to your thigh, him caressing the limb and teasing you with every boring touch.

“A—Aemond,” You called; you wanted more. He hummed and gazed upon your eyes. His right hand is palming your tit, and his left hand caressing your thigh. “Please,” was all you could say, but it was enough as you watched him sink to his knees. Hands are moving to part your legs, bringing more wetness to your cunt with every action he took. “Oh gods,” Aemond breathed as he was met with your cunt— needy and calling for his touch. He shoved away his hesitancy and fears and did what he knew he should have done long before— claim every single part of you. Ruin you for any man, prince, or king to come.

You cried out his name as his lips met with your cunt. Licking, sucking, and nibbling the sensitive skin. Bringing pleasure in all he did. “More,” You called, your hands losing themselves in his hair, finally gliding your fingers upon the silky strands. “Aemond, please— I need more,” You pleaded and whined as he ignored your call, simply continuing his torment on your needing bud and his teasing fingers upon your entrance. “Beg harder, princess.” He hummed, smirking at your cunt as you shamelessly did what he said.

“Please Aemond… I want you— I need you to-to fuck me. Claim my maidenhead; I’m all yours.” Aemond turned rigged upon your words— searing pleasure enveloped him upon your words. He had never heard you so foul, so lewd— so desperate. And it was all for him. You feel your heartbeat stop as he finally moves atop you. You gasped as he ripped away your shift, leaving you bare and perfectly positioned for him to take you. You feel your eyes water as his length, thick and long, starts to break its way through. Aemond closed his eyes tightly at how you felt. You were so tight and warm; the pleasure you provided was almost painful— completely overwhelming him. “Just a little more… you’ll be a good princess and take all of me, yes?” He murmured against your neck, feeling as the tears glide down your eyes. You could only nod and hope the pain would be quick to turn into pleasure.

“So fucking tight—so pure… all for me to ruin,” He growled as his length was finally fully sheathed inside you, finally feeling every single inch of your body. Your breathing turned labor as he thrust slowly, the pain finally turning to the blinding pleasure you sought. Aemond let out an amused breath as he watched you roll your eyes back in complete pleasure; your bite on your lips was so harsh that Aemond feared you would draw blood. “Does my princess like that, hm? Do you like being fucked like a common whore?” He gritted through his own pleasures. Your moans were answer enough. “Louder— let the entire kingdom hear how your knight pleasures you,” Aemond smirked as you still did what he said; neither cared about being found. In reality, he would prefer it, for it will bind him to you.

“Aemond— oh gods, I…I,” you could not find your words as you felt your insides painfully coil, wanting something you were not quite certain of. Aemond hummed and moved his thumb to draw circles upon your nubbin, letting the coil grow tighter. You writing against him, desperate for something you have no words for. “Are you to come, my princess? Are you to come by the pleasure of my hands and cock?” Aemond asked and smirked as you lost yourself, as you could only comprehend his pleasurable actions. He let out a groan as you clenched around him, painfully and pleasurably so. Your knight is on the verge of release as well. His rhythmic and savoring trusts turned sloppy and desperate. “Come and scream my name, princess.” He ordered with one long final thrust of his cock and flick of his thumb. You coming undone by his touch. His groans mixed with yours, neither of you weary as his seed filled your cunt.

He collapsed atop you as both of you came down from the highs of your release. Five words leaving his lips, an oath that he will keep for the rest of his life. “You’re all mine now, princess.”

1K notes · View notes

thekinslayed · 1 year ago

Text

Show Me Your World - (Edge of Desire Special Chapter)

summary | Glimpses of your ever blossoming marriage with Aemond, through the eyes of people around you.

pairing | aemond targaryen x niece!reader

tags | teeth rotting fluff! ooc aemond, mentions of oral (f), ooc criston lol, alicole tease idc sue me, third pov (?), pure marital bliss

song rec | My Kind of Woman - Mac Demarco

wordcount | 3.8k

note | surprise! this is my lil thank you gift for 2k hehe this isn't necessarily a pt 2, but Edge of Desire has received soo much love and i want to try and give even just a little bit back!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

There was no doubt that the marriage of princess Rhaenyra’s only daughter to the king’s second son caused much worry from the court. The strife between the Hightowers and the Targaryens was no secret, festering into a nasty, outward conflict that ended in a boy maimed, and a family divided by sea. Viserys the Peaceful, ever faithful to his name, sought to mend this rift.

In the moons following their marriage, it was plain to see the princess and the one-eyed prince rarely agreed with each other. A womb bearing no fruit, eyes rarely meeting, and twin frowns often decorating their features. The concerns aptly only grew. But then, something had shifted in the air.

The princess grew to be exuberant, practically glowing as her belly swelled with child. There was rarely a moment the prince was not found by her side, save for when he was training in the Keep’s yard, and even then, his ladywife was sure to be found on the castle’s balcony with a pleased smile on her face. Whispers of concern soon turned into that of courtly gossip, nobles and staff alike most eager to discover the secret in the couple’s newfound bliss. Many strained their neck to catch a glimpse of the two royals at court, keeping a close eye to notice any indication of a display of affection, though none of them ever did. The prince stood as stoic as ever, while you took your place beside him, hands clasped over your growing bump. Save for the communicative looks you exchanged now and then, the signs of a budding romance between the two of you were sparse.

It was rather odd. Such whispers from the servants would make it seem that the prince had somehow taken on a persona straight from their mother’s tales about love, like a dashing knight head over heels for his princess, but none of them ever caught such a glimpse. All except for one.

Sera was no significant person among the residents of the Red Keep. She was a servant, tasked with changing linens, emptying chamber pots, and seeing that the more valued inhabitants of the castle were satisfied. Any ounce of value in her low rank only came when she was made handmaiden to the princess. Stepping up to her new position, she would admit that she was quite curious. What she heard about your marriage piqued her interest, even more so when she began to step into the space that separated the royals from the lowborns.

In your private marital chambers, the whispers began to take form, proving themselves to be true. It became customary for her to hear the rhythmic thump, thump, thump coming from your bedchamber while she set up your morning meals in the solar. High-pitched moans would penetrate through the red brick, bringing about a hot flush in the young woman’s cheeks as she hastened to lay down the cutlery before scurrying off. Sera remained invisible, merely a shadow that passed through your life, invisible hands that aided in your day. She knew her place, especially when prince Aemond was in the room while she assisted the princess.

Once the copper tub was filled for your bath, she must make her leave in haste with one flick of the prince’s wrist.

When your husband started to approach your seated form upon the vanity as you readied for the day, Sera knew better and would step away so the one-eyed prince may inhabit your space, no matter the intricacy of the braids she was twisting your hair into. Averting her eyes, the servant could only listen to your dreamy sighs as your husband peppered kisses onto every bit of skin his lips could find.

Did it make her work lighter? Perhaps. It helped to serve two royals who wanted little but each other, who were never cruel or harsh with their tongue. It was odd to say such sentiments for what the court knew as the cold, rigid one-eyed prince, but marriage had changed much of him.

He was always handsome, despite the scar and the menacing glint in his good eye. The fearful aura he exuded in his stride made any good woman weak in the knees, coupled with that sleek, soft hair the shade of moonlight, and his lithe, tall form. Prince Aemond was far more fancied by the young maidens that served as the keep’s staff, Sera included.

It was a particularly beautiful morn when she realized this. The spring breeze brought about a lightness through the castle, while the early morning sun beamed with hope for warmth after winter’s end. Sera made her way through Maegor’s Holdfast, her feet taking a mind of its own as it led her to your chambers. She had been at your service for a few moons at this point, a routine suitably established with time and experience.

As she was granted entry by the White Cloak at your door, she made quick work to draw every curtain open, before making her way to the bedchamber. You must be awakened soon, and with a light knock, Sera was answered with a sleepy hum that indicated your rise.

However, such disruptions to one’s routine should always be expected. When she turned the doorknob with a soft greeting on her lips, Sera was taken aback by the sight that met her. You were, indeed, freshly awake, eyes half-lidded and hair aptly messed from the sheets, but with the addition of your husband’s kneeling form in between your thighs. His silver hair was loose, draped over his sculpted back as you gripped them in between your fingers. Neither of you seemed to notice the intruder, clearly lost in the dizzy haze of your pleasure as your hips continued to cant against Aemond’s face. It was her stunned gasp that made Sera’s presence known. For the first time, she had gotten too close, had touched the bubble that encased the couple in their marital bliss, and now it had burst.

Both royals snapped their heads towards the door, but it was prince Aemond that made her heart beat erratically in her chest. He was without his eyepatch, nor his clean updo that kept his mane out of his face, nor a tunic or any clothing for that matter. The dazzling sapphire glinted in the morning sun, drawing her into its tantalizing spell. It was a good thing her eyes stayed there, never drifting downward to the other treasure in between his legs for the scowl on Aemond’s face made his displeasure known.

“Out,” was all he said, sending poor Sera scurrying out of the room. You would apologize to her later in the day, giving her clammy hand a soft squeeze with nothing but gentleness in your face.

“Whatever happened to you?” Elara had asked her upon her return to the servant’s wing. The younger girl’s brows furrowed in confusion and slight worry at the beet-red flush on Sera’s face. Unlike her acquaintance, Elara’s experience with serving prince Aegon was nothing short of harrowing, and such a reaction on Sera was enough to have her assuming the worst. “Were you harmed?”

“No, no! Hells, I–” Sera stammered. When did she begin to perspire so much? Her nape was damp with flustered sweat from the aftermath of such embarrassment. Detailing the moments of her eventful morning was a struggle, even more so when Elara burst out giggling in her face. Sera slapped her hands over her face, groaning. “The prince wasn’t supposed to be there so late. He would be off to the yard with Ser Cole at this hour!”

The young blonde shook her head in amusement, hands still busy with folding linens. “Gods, the princess is a lucky one, isn’t she? Prince Aemond seems like a total dreamboat compared to his brother.” She leaned closer to Sera, whispering. “Did you see his—?”

“His what?” she replied, not fully understanding the cryptic tilt of her head and the smirk on her face.

“Well, you know… his High Tower!”

Both girls erupted into a fit of laughter, though old Hilda wasn’t too happy with their slacking off.

The second time Sera had found herself bestowed another close glimpse of the couple was during the hour of the owl. You were only a few days away from term, and the maester had you isolated for the rites of seclusion prior to your labors. Aemond, in an isolated state of his own, was forbidden to visit you even in daylight for propriety’s sake. Your marital chambers never felt so empty, with your absence ridding it of any life that came with your mere presence.

It was a miserable affair, both for you and your husband. Sera had seen how the separation was affecting her princess. You were lonely, weary from the aches of your belly, and losing your appetite from the desolate state of your chambers. It had her worried, even more so when word of your husband’s anxious state reached her ears. She ought to do something, but she had little power over the order of the maesters, even more so when it was approved by the queen herself.

Perhaps it was by fate when one night, she… forgot to close the door firmly behind her when she was granted her leave for the evening. It granted the prince entry, after many nights of pacing through the halls for any chance to slip into his wife’s chambers without being detected. She stayed in the shadows of an alcove, counting the minutes until she heard the familiar gait of the one-eyed prince taking the path she had just passed.

She couldn’t help herself. With featherlight steps, Sera tiptoed back to your door, peeking through the slight crack left ajar. What she saw almost had her thinking it was a repeat of that one morning, but it was something far more intimate.

There he was, the one-eyed prince Aemond, kneeling before your seated form like a devotee. His face was nuzzled into your lap, his arms wrapped around the swollen bump that housed your offspring. Your hands rubbed down his back soothingly, while your cheeks glistened under the dim light of your chambers. Tears of happiness, Sera realized. Like always, your husband peppered kisses all over— your hands, your belly, even on the swell of your bosom that threatened to spill from your garments.

It was nothing debauched, nor depraved, but filled with far more passion than she had ever seen in her young life. She had never seen two souls so profoundly intertwined, deep into the throes of your love in a way that seemed unfathomable in this cruel life. It was no fairytale, but very much real.

He looked unrecognizable like this, with a face so peaceful and a touch so gentle. His thin lips moved with words inaudible to Sera’s ears, but the way your face glowed brighter than it had been for these past days made the young girl’s chest swell with a yearning for something of her own. She could only pray that her princess would only find happiness in her marriage, and that the gods would grant herself a love that could be half as full as yours.

Prince Aemond was no man of big gestures. He was not one to scream his love from the rooftops, nor wear his heart on his sleeve, but with his forehead pressed into your bump, Sera learned that whispers of a true love were far greater than proclamations of folly.

Criston Cole did not believe in love. It was a fool’s wish. The only time he had gotten close to dabbling into the idea of it had left him broken, honor sullied for a princess who returned little of what he had given. Rhaenyra was a thorn in his past, and her bastards were a blatant reminder of his divulgence into her trap. Hence, his apprehension upon the news of the marriage of the heir’s only daughter to Alicent’s thirdborn.

What was he to say? To do? Nothing. Criston had overstepped his bounds once and it had ended with his white cloak dirtied and his sanity balanced on the tip of his sword. This match was doomed to fail, he had no doubt of it, but he kept his mouth shut. The Dornishman was quite famed for his good swordsmanship, and his humble beginnings, but especially more so of his handsome looks. Olive skin, luscious dark locks, and wide brown orbs that glimmered like topaz under the southern sun. Those eyes held less composure than the rest of his face. They were a window of his thoughts, and they spoke of the words his tongue held back. Cole’s contempt for Rhaenyra’s blood was ever evident in the sharp gaze he threw your way. You were of your mother’s sin, yet you walked in these halls as if though you were anything but a blaring reminder of it.

Criston knew of Aemond’s nature. He had spent many hours honing the young prince’s skills with a sword, had taken him and his mother to the Sept for their prayers. Cole had even held him while he writhed in pain when the maester took out the stitches of his slashed eye. The second prince shared his disdain for Rhaenyra and her brood, perhaps even more so than the knight himself. And so, he was well aware that Aemond found no positives in his marriage.

For a while, the knight believed the younger to share such sentiments, but the stories of your blossoming marriage had filtered through the Keep, inevitably reaching the ears of the White Sword Tower. His response was nothing but a scoff. Criston did not consider himself a believer of such change, but when he began to see it for himself, his views faltered.

Namedays of the royal family were always celebrated with grandeur and splendor. Helaena’s twins had just turned five, and the court had taken to the Kingswood for the royal hunt. It was a splendid affair, the young babes garnering much attention from the guests. Aegon, surprisingly enough, was enthusiastically present for his children. The elder held much love for his children, and it made for an endearing sight to see. This had lightened the attention on prince Aemond and his ladywife, who were bound to be parents of their own.

The news of your pregnancy had garnered much praise and well wishes from the court, and before you even began to grow round with child, all eyes were constantly on you and Aemond. Though that night, you had been granted reprieve.

Cole stood beside the queen Alicent as she sat, ever faithfully upholding his duty. It was customary for him to scan the room constantly, keeping himself aware of any potential threat to his queen. There he found prince Aemond and his ladywife, secluded in their own little corner of the royal tent.

You had whispered something into Aemond’s ear with a cherubic smile, before covering your mouth with a ringed hand as giggles spilled from your lips. The knight fought back the urge to roll his dark, chocolate orbs at such a display, knowing the second prince well enough that such behavior did not bode well with him.

Yet, he found himself mistaken. In the dim amber glow of the royal pavilion, it was easy to overlook the way Aemond’s silver tresses swayed as his head bowed followed by the most peculiar sight. The leather of his doublet moved up and down as his shoulders shook. Criston may have been granted only the sight of the prince’s back, but it was plain enough to see.

He was laughing.

In all his years serving the Hightowers, the most he had ever seen from Aemond was a smirk, or a dark chuckle when he bested his mentor while they trained. Cole believed his eyes to be deceiving him, but the pleased look on your face and the bubbling laughter that echoed through the night was testament enough that you had the power to loosen the prince’s otherwise rigid grip on his composure. You were stuck to his side, heads huddled together as you whispered about gods know what. It might have been the wine or the warmth exuded by the torches littered about, but your cheeks were flushed like a rose.

Beyond his conscience, the sight had pulled a smile of his own. Something akin to elation sweltered in the knight’s chest. It pleased him to see the prince so relaxed, free from the tension he always carried. Criston would have you to thank for it.

Beside him, Alicent was looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Her sworn shield seldom found things that amused him, and even then, it was rather disturbing to her. “What amuses you, good ser?” she asked, taking Criston by surprise. His cheeks quickly dropped to his usual formal state, throat clearing to regain his composure. The queen, ever observant followed where his eyes had flickered to. Across from where she sat, her second son held an arm around his wife’s waist, whispering into each other’s ear while sharing a cup of wine. Wide smiles mirrored each other, their gazes focused on no one else but them. The sight made the queen’s cheeks dimple into a small smile, a warmth in her motherly heart filling her with hope. It had been many years ago when Alicent deemed herself cursed by the gods, given a fate so cruel. It had shaken her faith, even more so when it appeared to have trickled down to her children. Aemond had the worst of it— a dragon egg turned to stone, an eye cruelly taken, and a ghost of a father. She feared for what may become of him, with his wrath and fury that seemed to guide his aspirations. Yet now, as she watched her favored son let his wife take his cheek into her hand so publicly, Alicent prayed that the tides were turning for him. Perhaps you might change his fate. Perhaps he might be spared yet. “He’s been quite happy as of late,” Alicent mentioned, turning to Criston. A look filled with mirth equaled that of the Dornishman before her, who nodded in agreement.

“He has, my queen. It pleases me greatly to see the prince so content. The princess brings out the best in him,” Cole replied. They shared smiles of their own, and the knight felt emboldened by the glee they shared. He shuffled ever so closely to her seat, the warmth exuding from her pale flesh emanating through the cold steel of his armor. As they both watched you take Aemond’s hand to lead him out of the pavilion, Criston willed himself to keep his composure as Alicent ever so subtly leaned against his arm.

Criston was present in much of what happens in the royal family. He was there for every nameday, every birth, and every milestone that Alicent’s children had. Albeit, he was in the background, but he was there. It did not change when they became parents themselves, with Helaena and Aegon having three babes, while Aemond and his ladywife were now about to have a child of their own.

Aemond had been an anxious mess all morning. Your labors had begun just as dawn broke, and pursued well through noon. Queen Alicent made her way to your chambers to check on your well-being as soon as the council dispersed, with Cole naturally in tow. Your husband had to be pushed back by several knights as the grand maester forbade him to enter the birthing chamber, fighting to be by your side. Your wails and cries had him distressed, even more so when he could clearly hear you call for him. It was only when his mother arrived did Aemond settle, uneasily staying in the common room as she was permitted to see you in his stead. “This is her fight, Aemond. You must let them do their work,” Alicent said, planting a soothing kiss on her son’s cheek before entering the birthing chamber.

His mother’s presence did little to quench his worries, and the one-eyed prince had settled to lean on the windowsill, fists clenched on the stone as his head bowed. From his place by the door, Cole approached him with quiet steps, settling beside his tense form. “She will be alright,” he said. “The princess is strong. A dragon in her own right.” He was responded by only a grunt from the younger, who kept his good eye closed as he steadied his breathing.

It was quiet between the two, just as it always was with Aemond. The only sound in the room was your outcries of pain that only seemed to grow louder by the minute. With a heavy sigh, Aemond spoke. “What did she thank you for?”

“My prince?” Criston asked, confused.

“My wife. When she first arrived from Dragonstone, I heard her whisper her thanks to you, and her apology for having done so too late. What did she have to thank you for?”

Cole huffed a small chuckle at the memory. It was many, many years ago when you were merely a girl. You used to play with Helaena in the gardens so often, especially during the spring afternoons when the butterflies danced above the bushels of flowers. Alicent would find time to watch over the young princesses, with her sworn shield following their tail through the royal gardens.

One afternoon, both girls had been so enthusiastic with the amount of colorful butterflies that flittered about. Helaena had her eyes set on a pretty blue one, crossing the wooden footbridge over the small pond in the middle of the greenery.

The pair made haste to follow the girls, but you came running back, with a quivering frown. You had clutched onto Criston’s cloak, refusing to cross over the small, wooden bridge. It was littered with frogs from the pond. The tiny green things gave you a fright, and Criston had to carry you in his arms over to where Helaena played in the grass. Your excitement had quickly been restored once your fear was gone, short legs quickly wriggling out of the knight’s grip to rejoin your aunt.

A decade later, you voiced your regrets over your rudeness and thanked Criston for his help on that day.

“It was for something so little that did not require such importance, but the princess was gracious to remember so,” Cole smiled. Aemond’s lips had lifted into a smile of his own at the thought of you, slim cheeks dimpling.

“She is full of nothing but kindness,” the prince said fondly, straightening his posture with more ease. “I am rather undeserving of it.” Aemond’s response made Cole frown, the elder knight clasping the prince’s shoulder in a fatherly squeeze.

“The gods have deemed you most deserving of it, Aemond. You were fated for each other. I have witnessed no other pair to have been more well suited in this lifetime, believe me.” Such words were so foreign to leave Cole’s lips, but they held no lie. A shrill cry had then pierced through the air, and Alicent had opened the door with a wide smile on her face. ‘Tis a girl! was her exclaim, and Aemond had rushed off from Criston’s side to see his wife.

Pleased, the knight stayed in his place, off to the side as the royals celebrated yet a new beginning in their lives.

Criston may not believe in love, nor has he felt it, but he has seen it.

It could be quite beautiful, he realized.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader #criston cole x reader

3K notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 1 year ago

Text

High Infidelity

scorned and betrayed by your husband, you find solace in the arms of his uncle.

based of this request

word count: 2,455

CW: MDI, 18+, smut, cheating (both reader and Aemond), p in v, oral (f reciving) fingering, slight violence (legit a single punch), name calling. not proofread!

Gwayne Hightower x fem!reader/Aemondswife!reader

Masterlist

authors note: Gwayne is Alicents youngest brother in the books, but apparently he is the oldest brother in the show, but i’m still gonna make him younger than Alicent, who’s about 34, so in my head gwayne is around 30-32, and reader is older than Aemond.

He was with her again.

every night it seemed he would leave you. His wife. In favour of her.

You didn’t know who she was, were he met or, if she lived in the keep or in flea bottom.

All you knew is that he spent night after night alone with her.

He would come back smelling of wine and her perfume.

The smell seeping into your bedsheets.

The bed he insisted on sharing , even after fucking another woman.

After calling you ugly.

saying he never would have chosen you, not for your brain and certainly not your looks.

It wasn’t that you were ugly. Just that your hair was untamed, your clothes never quite fitting right.

It was the little things he picked on, insecurities you had noticed time and time again. And though you had strived to change these insecurities. Spending the crowns money on dresses from the best dressmakers, on hair oils from Essos. Aemond still found a way to make you feel insecure.

He loved to point out the insecurities, loved to belittle you, loved to bring to light insecurities you never knew you had.

You had been married nearly three years now, had provided him with both a son and daughter and yet to him you were still not enough.

The words of love and kindness he once gave you, in the first few months of your marriage, vanished. And in said cruel tormenting words replaced them.

Instead, those sweet words were now given to her.

And you were left all alone.

But a scorned woman is not a quite one, you did not shout or argue with him, no. you set your sights elsewhere.

To the man you had once know and loved, the man you had met before him. The man you had once longed to marry in Aemond’s stead.

His uncle, Gwayne Hightower.

Had your parents not craved status and the ideas of their grandchildren and princes and princess, you might have been able to marry him.

You were a daughter of house Redwyne, a noble house known for its fleet and riches.

And though you had grown up in the Arbor, your family had sent you away to Oldtown when you became of age, to win the favour of Otto Hightower and the potential match between you and one of his Targaryen grandchildren.

And though it had worked, with you being summoned by him to kings landing where you found yourself courting your now husband, Prince Aemond.

Though you had first, found yourself besotted with Gwayne.

A dashing knight, who had crowned you the queen of love and beauty at your first ever tourney.

He had won your heart only for it to be swiftly pulled form his grasp as you were summoned to kings landing on by Otto hightower.

You had never truly forgotten about him, even in the years you had gone since seeing him.

Then your wedding came, and as uncle of the groom of course he came.

And throughout the whole ceremony your eyes were drawn to his, wishing it was him you were saying your vows to.

But as fleeting as your love for him was, so was his presence. For he swiftly left after the wedding.

But not before whispering the words you had dreamed of hearing.

you swiftly found yourself married to an insecure man, who had too found himself a place in your heart, however small.

In those three years since your wedding, three years since you had seen him. You had thought you had grown to love…if not care for your husband.

And you had thought he had to, the words “I love you” really selling his lies. And now he betrayed you, night after night.

It hurt, and gods were you angry.

Everyone knew of his infidelity.

His lust for this other woman.

And though you didn’t know of it, not truly. For all you wished to do was deny it.

Doing everything in your power to imagine another reason for his disappearance, for his wine-soaked lips and rose scented body.

His drunken remakes about your appearance, how he hated your hair, your eyes. How you weren’t her.

Then as time passed the remakes turned hateful, as if you were keeping him from her.

And so the once words of beauty and love turned to ugly hate.

You had tried to not believe his remarks,

Hoping that a apart of him only craved an old love, just as you did.

Then Aegon came into your room, drunk in grief and yet finding so much humour in your husband’s affair he could barley get the words out.

He and laughed and laughed until he saw the tears in his sister in laws face.

He had regretted it instantly, though you could tell he still found humour in Aemond’s actions.

He claimed it was the woman he paid for Aemond to lose his virginity too, how she must have such a hold on him after all these years.

And as he watched the silent angry tears fall from your face, he had run out of the room, apologising as he did.

A week passed since then.

War was declared.

Lords and knight arriving, preparing for orders.

One knight in particular arrived, Gwayne Hightower.

You watched as he rode into the red keep.

His tired raged, yet no less handsome form, jumping of his horse.

His sister, the queen, greeting him.

You had raced down the steps, far to egar to see him.

And yet it all seemed to happen in slow motion.

His eye turning to you. A soft smile filling his face.

He bowed slightly, smiling even more as you returned with your own.

Lifting your hand to his mouth, in a slow gentle kiss.

Your eyes never leaving the others.

A cough had broken your hazes, his hand still clasping yours as you both turned to Alicent.

“Daughter” she greeted, her gaze questioning as she took you both in.

There was a fair age difference between you both, though you were older than Aemond, Gwayne was still years your senior. You were sure to Alicent it must seem strange almost, how close you seemed, close enough to greet him, to smile and kiss each others hand.

“You know my brother?” she asked, her gaze never leaving your joined hands.

You slowly separated your hand from his, though the slight caress of your fingers was sure to raise Alicent’s eyebrow’s.

“Yes, from my years in old town” you said, finally breaking eye contact with Gwayne.

“ah” she said, uncertain of what to make of your friendship with one another, “I am glad my brother has another friendly face, here at court.”

“As am I” Gwayne mused “it has been years since I last saw you, my lady.”

“Since the wedding I believe” Alicent interjected, finding the need to remined you both of your marital status.

“Ah yes, how is my nephew?” he asked, eyes fixed on your face, taking in every emotion passing between your eyes.

“I don’t know ser, may haps you should check the brothels and tell me yourself” you said, glancing to Alicent to see her reaction.

She pierced her lips, seemingly shocked at the notion “I am sure that- “

“ask the king if you must, I learnt it from him, though the wine and perfume was more than another hint for me” you mused, turning back to Gwayne “I shall show you to your chambers, ser” you said, before Alicent could say anything more in the matter.

Lacing your arm through his, you weaved your way through the red keep. Finding your conversations never ending as if no time had passed at all.

“I have missed you” you breathed as you entered his chambers.

Finally, alone after all these years.

He smiled, a true smile one that he only reserved for you.

Though there was some trepidation, uncertainty, in his gaze.

As if he knew that despite having you first, being your first everything, you would never be his.

“I am sure no more that I have” he mused.

“I doubt that” you whispered, sadness clear in your tone.

“What do you mean?” he said, scowling “has my nephew done something?”

“i-“ you were unsure of what to say.

It had been years since you had seen him. And though you had sent letters back and forth, they were restrained. Finding it hard to talk as you once did, be as open as you once had.

But as you looked at him, you saw everything you had ever craved, ever desired. Everything you had been deprived of for three long years.

“what” he prompted, moving closer to you.

“he is cruel…he has a lover in the city and only hates me for not being her” you sneered.

“And do you hate him?” he asked, his hand reaching for yours once again.

“I resent him…but I understand him. He only treats me how I wish I could treat him; he says the words I crave to say to him, act the way I crave to act…with you” you said, your faces so close that you were sharing your breaths.

“I never stopped wishing I had stolen you away that night, married you in his stead” he breathed, “I hate that he Is cruel…I j=had hoped you found love in his arms not hatred… I cannot but feel guilty” he said, his mouth kissing the corner of yours.

“We should have ran away…gotten married for love and ran from our duty” you agreed as he peppered kisses down your neck, his breath caressing your skin.

He hummed against your neck, his fingers playing with the laces on your back.

“please” you begged, moving his arm to grasp you, to pull you close to him.

Unlacing your dress, he started to pepper kisses down your chest.

“gods, I missed this sight” he groaned, kissing around your breasts.

You were insecure, having had two children, and year of belittling on your appearance. You went to cover yourself, only for Gwayne to tear your arms away from you, pinning them behind your back, as he stripped the remained of your clothes off of you.

He descended down your body, leaving hot kisses as he went, until he finally reached your wet cunt.

He gave a slow, tortuous lick through your folds.

Groaning at the taste of you, he moved his head further into your thighs , locking and tasting your cunt like you were his last meal.

moaning in pleasure, your hands, moved from his hold and reached down to clutch to grip his hair, tightening when he finally found your bud.

Focusing is efforts on your small bud of nerves, he sucked and licked at your bud, slowly bringing his fingers to your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, your cunt hot and tight, from a year of neglect.

Your hips ground themselves against his face, soon loosing yourself to the pleasure as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

You peaked, as his third finger entered you. The pleasure overwhelming, and near too much as he continued to lap up your juices as you peaked all over his face.

Finaly moving from your thighs, he backed away from you, moving to stand, before pushing you down onto his bed.

Standing back from you, he ever so slowly took of his own clothes, revelling his toned chest and his hard thick cock.

Slowly crawling onto the bed, his body covering yours he finally took your lips with his.

Your first kiss with him in years.

It was hot messy and desperate.

Everything you needed craved and loved.

His tongue danced with yours, as he pulled your legs apart positioning himself between your thighs.

He pulled back from your lips, his eyes connecting with yours as he slowly pushed in side.

He filled you in a way Aemond never had, his cock hitting that one spot of nerves, only he had ever found, again and again as he thrusted his hips into you.

He moved to kiss you once more, his hips pumping faster and faster as he did.

You had never felt so perfect, so lost in pleasure as the sweet spot was hit over and over again.

Your second peak fast approaching, and you had turned into a moaning mess.

Grasping desperate to him as you both peaked, and he spilled his seed inside you.

Your breaths were heavy, your bodies still attacked as you both effused to leave the others hold.

That as until the door open, and her husband strolled in.

“uncle-“ he started, clearing coming to greet Gwayne, only to find you in his arms “wife?!” he sneered.

Gwayne moved to stand, covering himself quickly as he moved to hide you from Aemond, “nephew! How delightful!” he said in mock joy.

“what is she doing here?” he sneered, eyes darting around Gwayne body, trying to reach your eyes.

“what is it to you?” Gwayne drawled.

“she is my wife!”

“is she?” Gwayne laughed, “then perhaps you should treat her as such and not leave her to run of with your little whores!” Gwayne said, tone filled with rage.

Of course he knew of Aemodsn doing, of his treatment of his sweet lady, his siter had told him, ashamed of both her sons treatment of their wives.

And even if she hadn’t told him, the rumours of Aemond’s affairs had long travelled to the reach.

“you forget yourself!”

“I do not, you have treated her like a whore! As if she is worth nothing when she is worth the world!”

“so, you fucked her, because I am such a bad husband?” Aemond sneered, his eyes gleaming with rage.

“gods, are you that vain? This has nothing to do with you Aemond” you interjected.

“Nothing? Nothing to do with me? You are my wife!”

“I am not a broodmare! I am not owned by you just because we are married!” you said, standing from the bed, only a sheet covering your body.

“then what? You mean to say you are in love” he said mockingly.

“yes” you both responded at the same time, your eyes connecting and speaking in only a language you both spoke.

“you whore-” he started,. But Gwayne acted fast, landing a smooth and quick punch at Aemond. Knocking him clean out on the floor.

Your eyes locked in shock, releasing what had happened, and before you knew it your clothes were thrown on, bags packed and your children in your arms as you ran and caught the first both to Essos.

Away from your husband and the gods forsaken war that would have only lead to your doom.

taglist

@apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @RAYNE TARGARYEN 2 @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @cloboboo @aegonswife

to be added to taglist

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x fem!reader #aemond targeryen #house of the dragon aemond #hotd smut #hotd x you #hotd fanfic #freddie fox #sacha writes ✍️

2K notes · View notes

nebulaafterdark · 9 months ago

Text

Dragonseeds (Pt. 1)

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Cole)!Reader

Summary: If any man can claim a dragon, what good is the blood of Old Valyria?

18+ ONLY MDNI

Y/N Velaryon has loved Aegon since she was small; fascinated by the Prince, three years her senior. Like a shadow, from corridor to corridor, and one day, like a switch, they flip.

Aegon begins seeking her out, searching the castle high and low for his betrothed. Training fiercely by the sword, with the understanding that only a knight could properly defend her. A sworn sword will only go so far, they could not love her the way he does.

“I love you too much, you have ruined me.”

He often tells her, to which the princess smiles.

“As dearly as I love you.”

When they are forced to wed immediately after the incident at Driftmark, neither the prince nor princess are eager to produce heirs.

They fight often, loud, passionate disagreements. He raises his hand to her once, in a fit of rage. Using every bit of self restraint to cup her cheek instead, a bit too forcefully. With blunt nails digging into her delicate skin as she watches him with wide eyes. “I meant to strike you.” That is what one does when the person they love refuses to listen, is it not?

“You did not.”

“I wanted to,” he admits. “I could not.”

The princess offers a sad smile, turning her face into his palm. “That is what matters.”

They do not lie together for some four years, until the growing protests become too loud to ignore.

“The smallfolk believe that a strong line of succession is the work of a strong marriage. My claim is already in question, we will need a strong line.” Y/N whispers against his lips.

Aegon loves his wife, but detests the notion that she is to be bred like cattle to uphold their duty to the crown. He hates being a prince, he hates being a Targaryen.

That is why he so loves Y/N’s hair, each dark, rebellious wave. How it screams ‘I do not belong to you.’

He hacks off his silver tresses at the first sob of his wife on the birthing bed. Never allowing it to grow past his chin again.

The future Queen and King consort are blessed with twin daughters, followed by three sweet sons, the youngest two inherit their mother’s dark locks. Pleasing Aegon to no end.

“I want a daughter who favors you.” Aegon admits.

“Then we must try again.” Y/N grins.

Aegon fists a hand in her dark locks as they make love, as though it will grant his wish.

They are expecting a sixth child before King Viserys’ death. Before Aegon takes the throne to guard it. Before Y/N crowns him, in the dragon pit, at Ser Criston’s order.

“Listen to me now, these next days are critical. Decide now whether you wish to live or die, if you want your children to live.”

“My children are in danger?” Y/N whispers.

“Your children have been in danger.” Ser Criston sneers.

“Why are you helping me?”

“You know why.” Cole grits out. Blood of my blood.

“Surely it would be easier for you if I were gone.”

“I do not wish you dead.” The man tells her. “Crown Aegon, the people must see you to do it. Surrender it peacefully and they will fall in line.”

“And my mother?”

Cole squares his shoulders, “we save who we can save.”

————————————————————————

Only two days later tragedy strikes, pressing on the delicate ties that hold the greens together. Severing them with the news of Vhagar’s betrayal.

“I did not mean to kill Lucerys.” Aemond admits, in the presence of his mother, grandsire and brother alone.

“What did you mean to do?” Aegon slams his fist against the table.

“Have a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Aegon scoffs, “is it entertaining to you that I must now break this news to my wife in her condition?”

“Aegon,” Alicent sighs, “mayhaps you might wait until-”

“I will not lie to her, mother.” Aegon says, “better she hear it from me.”

“The grand maester should ready a draft, something to calm her.” Otto suggests.

“No.” Aegon shakes his head.

“Think of the babe.”

“I do think of the babe!” Aegon shouts, “I think of the babe and I think of my wife. My poor, sweet, wife who is never considered by another soul, save for me.”

Alicent swallows hard.

“This world can be cruel.” Otto admits, “you must keep your wits about you, your grace.”

Aegon scoffs, storming out of the room to find his wife, standing but a foot from the doorway. “How much did you hear?”

“Very little, I was headed to look in on the children. I heard you shouting.” She admits, “it stopped me.”

“Come, my heart.” Aegon murmurs, wrapping her in his arms. “There is something I must tell you.”

Y/N nods, against his chest. It must be something awful, she can feel it in her bones.

“I need you to do your best to keep calm. Our child needs you calm, yes?”

Again she nods.

“There’s been a terrible accident,” he begins swaying her. “Lucerys and Aemond had a run in at Storm’s End.”

“No,” she clutches him a bit tighter.

“Vhagar…is accustomed to war. I do not-“ he breaks off. “Aemond insists it was an accident.”

“My brother is dead?”

“I am so terribly sorry.” Aegon murmurs, pressing his cheek to hers, in a desperate attempt to absorb even an ounce of her pain. “I am so sorry.”

“I cannot breathe.” The thought of sweet Lucerys dying frightened and alone is inconceivable.

“You must.”

“I should have been there, to fly for my mother’s claim.”

“You are with child.” He reminds her.

“I am always with child, it makes little difference.” She heaves in a bitter breath.

“You could not have changed it.”

“I might have tried!” She pulls herself away from him. “I need a moment alone.”

“My heart, you should not be alone.”

“Please,” she insists.

Aegon spends the evening drowning himself in cups, choking down the urge to murder his brother.

————————————————————————

Y/N and Aegon make the decision to leave with their children under the cover of nightfall.

Ser Criston catches them of course, he always seems to. Only this time he makes no move to stop them.

“I swore an oath to protect you.” Cole insists. “For too long I have stood idle, allowing Rhaenyra to guide you. To mold you into the heir she so desperately needed.” He looks to Y/N, “I offered her a quiet life on the hillside, selling oranges.”

Y/N blinks at him.

“She wanted no part in that,” Cole smiles. “I suppose Ser Harwin Break Bones was more agreeable.”

Y/N stares back at him with familiar eyes…his eyes. “Are you not ashamed of me?”

“I did not turn away from you because I was ashamed. I have never been ashamed of you. I wished only to make it easier on you, so that you would not bear the shame.” Cole tells her. “Now you decide for yourself…the life you want. Return to your mother on Dragonstone, or fly away across the narrow sea.”

Part 2

Aegon taglist: @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @niyahnotnia

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #hotd smut #aegon targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon ii #aegon imagine

597 notes · View notes

valyrianink · 1 month ago

Text

Like A Wife

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen Sister Reader

۶ৎ 3k words

↳ Summary:

Aemond has mastered restraint, but Ser Gwayne’s arrival threatens more than duty. How long can he endure this torment?

↳ Warnings:

MDNI! 18+, Targcest (Sibling Dynamic + Hints of Uncle/Niece Dynamic), Power Dynamics, Possessive Dynamics, Mention of Jealousy

The Red Keep had always been a place of whispers, of veiled truths, of things left unspoken but never unnoticed.

Your own secrets lay amongst them. They are buried beneath duty and masked beneath propriety. You and your brother, Aemond, had long understood the delicate balance of restraint, of stolen moments shrouded in shadow.

It was not spoken of. It was not tended to.

And yet, it persisted.

Aemond, who was ever composed, ever disciplined, had never once given voice to what lingered between you. But neither had he resisted, not when the weight of silence grew unbearable, not when your hand would brush against his in the quiet of dimly lit corridors, not when the world allowed him the chance to keep you near.

You had never spoken of it either. Perhaps because it was easier that way. Especially, when one comes from a highborn house. Or perhaps because neither of you dared to acknowledge what should not be acknowledged.

And so, the arrival of Ser Gwayne Hightower was simply another thread woven into the carefully kept tapestry of your world. Though, his presence carried an entirely different weight.

His uncle. Your uncle.

It was no scandal, no great controversy.

But it was noticed.

You had always been fond of Gwayne, ever since his early days at court. Your exchanges had been easy, familiar though never improper, never indulgent, but known. You spoke as those who understood one another, who shared a certain kinship, a particular ease.

Aemond had never commented on it.

Never questioned it.

But now, watching as Gwayne rode through the gates, as the knights of Oldtown followed behind him, as you stepped forward in welcome, of course he noticed.

"You honor us, Ser Gwayne," Queen Alicent spoke first, ever the careful diplomat.

"And it always shall, sweet sister." Gwayne replied smoothly.

Then, his eyes found yours. "Princess."

The look was brief, fleeting.

But Aemond saw it. Saw the way Gwayne’s gaze held yours, the familiarity in it, the ease. Saw the way you spoke, words quiet, measured, the hint of warmth just beneath them.

"You should rest before we speak further of war, Uncle." you offered, though your voice remained neutral.

Gwayne smiled slightly, just a faint shift of his lips, the ghost of something only meant for you.

"Your concern is gracious, Princess."

Aemond’s fingers flexed just slightly at his side.

"Even the strongest men need their rest," you continued, though you did not look in Aemond’s direction. "If war is coming, you should be in full strength, Uncle."

Gwayne’s smile deepened. "Wise words, Princess."

Aemond inhaled slowly, controlled. But you felt it, even without looking.

And gods help you. You knew exactly why he was annoyed.

The days passed slowly, but Aemond felt them keenly. Each hour stretched unbearably long, each evening weighted with the same quiet frustration.

He had always been an observer, accustomed to watching from a distance, dissecting everything with a mind sharpened for war, for calculation, for inevitabilities. But now, his observations had taken a different shape.

They had turned to you.

He saw the way you lingered in the training yard, how your gaze followed Gwayne with a familiarity that burned deeper than it should.

How you walked beside him through the castle halls, the measured ease in your conversation, the way Gwayne’s presence settled so effortlessly into your world.

How you rode on horseback together, laughter threaded between exchanged words, the wind carrying the sound to Aemond even when he wasn’t meant to hear it.

How your favor landed on Ser Gwayne’s lance on a recent tourney. His jaw clenched, hands curling into fists beneath his cloak. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. His silence burned hotter than any words.

And the worst of it? The moment he knew he could no longer bear it, was when you introduced Gwayne to your dragon. Gods forbid, even the beast seem to took a liking on him.

That was when something inside him twisted, settled uneasily, refused to let him remain still.

۶ৎ ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ۶ৎ ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ۶ৎ

The sun had barely begun its descent when Aemond found Gwayne alone in the training yard, seated on a stone bench, sharpening his sword with slow, deliberate movements.

Gwayne looked unusually disheveled. His hair slightly mussed, collar askew, and the faintest hint of a scratch trailing down his neck, barely hidden by the edge of his tunic. The early hour might explain his lack of composure, but to Aemond, it looked like more than just sleep that had left its mark. There was a flush to his skin, a looseness in his posture, the kind a man wore after being touched. Not by his own hand. Not alone. And Aemond’s jaw set at the thought.

He approached with measured steps, the weight of his presence unmistakable.

Gwayne did not look up immediately, but he knew.

"Prince Aemond," he greeted, dragging the whetstone down the blade’s edge without pause.

"Ser Gwayne," Aemond returned, stopping just beside him, his gaze flicking over the steel. "You have spent much time here of late."

"There is little else to do before war calls," Gwayne mused. "Better to keep my blade sharp than idle my time away."

Aemond exhaled, folding his arms behind his back. "You have found other ways to occupy yourself, Uncle."

Gwayne did not glance at him, but the faint shift of his expression suggested he understood the weight beneath Aemond’s words.

"I find the company in King’s Landing agreeable," he said simply, running the stone over the blade again.

Aemond’s jaw tightened just slightly. "I had not realized you were so fond of my sister."

And this time, Gwayne stopped.

Just briefly. Just long enough for the moment to stretch between them, thick with something unspoken.

But before either could speak further, Aemond felt it. Felt you, standing at the edge of the training yard, watching. As you always did. After all, maybe his speculations were correct.

And gods help you, you did not yet know what was about to unfold.

"Shall we?" Gwayne mused, tilting his head ever so slightly, his expression unreadable.

Aemond did not hesitate.

The fight was meant to be nothing more than practice, a test of skill, a display of refinement.

But to Aemond, it was something else.

The clash of steel rang through the yard, precise, calculated, relentless.

Gwayne fought as he always had, which was steady and measured. His strikes effortless in their execution.

And Aemond—

Aemond was fierce.

"Not too much weight on your back foot," Gwayne reminded, deflecting his strike with ease.

"I know," Aemond muttered, forcing his blade forward again.

"Then show me."

Aemond did.

But gods, his mind was clouded.

Not with miscalculation, not with lack of skill, but with something else.

With frustration.

With the weight of watching you linger beside Gwayne, your words easy, your laughter effortless.

With the way he had seen you, had watched you introduce him to your dragon as if it was nothing.

And that was when it happened.

A misstep.

A slight fracture in his focus, invisible to all but Gwayne himself.

A single inch too close.

Gwayne saw it.

His blade caught Aemond’s arm in a clean, precise cut.

Not deep, not grave.

But enough. Enough to burn. Enough to humble him. Enough to make his gaze flicker. Not toward his wound, but towards you.

Standing there. Watching. And gods help him. He hated the way he felt it in his bones.

"Seven hells," Aemond hissed through gritted teeth, pulling back slightly as his fingers ghosted over the fresh cut across his arm.

Gwayne exhaled, measured but clearly concerned. "I’ll call the maesters—"

"No," Aemond cut in sharply, already moving toward the edge of the yard, barely sparing his uncle another glance. "I’ll manage."

You had watched it all.

Had seen the exact moment pride eclipsed pain, had noticed the way Aemond refused to acknowledge the wound for what it was a humbling experience and reminder.

The prince left the training yard without ceremony.

He did not spare Gwayne another glance, did not linger beneath the eyes of those who watched, did not acknowledge the burning frustration coiling in his ribs. And not just from the wound, but from the entire spectacle of it.

His steps were measured, calculated, but his mind was a war of its own.

The cut across his arm was inconsequential. What mattered was why he had misstepped in the first place.

Because despite everything, despite his years of discipline, despite his control, he had let something interfere with his focus.

And that something was you.

He had felt it the moment the blade struck him, the sharp realization that your presence in the training yard had done more to distract him than any clever footwork Gwayne could muster.

You had been watching.

And gods help him, it had unraveled him.

His chambers were empty when he entered, the silence pressing against the walls like an accusation. He sat rigidly, exhaling sharply, ignoring the throbbing ache at his arm as he attempted to clean the wound himself.

It was irritating.

Not the pain, but the inconvenience of it.

The maesters would make short work of the cut, but he refused to summon them.

He did not need them.

He did not need anyone.

And yet—

A knock.

A pause.

Then—

"Aemond?"

Your voice slipped through the door, softer than usual, careful in the way you spoke.

He inhaled slowly before responding.

"Come."

You stepped inside, gaze flicking toward where he sat near the hearth, the fire casting long shadows against the stone walls.

Your eyes landed on his arm.

The way the cloth had absorbed more blood than it should have.

"You should let the maesters tend to it," you murmured, stepping closer.

"I do not need the maesters," Aemond muttered, barely sparing you a glance.

"You can barely do it properly."

"I can manage."

You sighed, shaking your head slightly before moving to the washbasin, dipping a clean cloth into fresh water.

"Then sit still."

You crossed the room, standing beside him, carefully pressing the damp cloth against the wound.

It wasn’t deep, but it bled enough to frustrate you. Not because of the injury itself, but because he refused to make this easier.

"Fuck sake. You’re making this worse for the both of us," you muttered, adjusting your grip as he tensed beneath your touch.

"It is fine," he argued, though his posture said otherwise.

"It is not fine if you keep moving like this."

A sharp inhale. A slight shift. Another stubborn attempt at avoiding compliance.

You had enough.

And before he could protest further, you moved. Hovering over him, straddling his lap, pressing him into the chair, trapping him beneath you so there was nowhere for him to pull away.

The moment stretched, heavy, palpable.

His eye flicked upward, unreadable in the dim candlelight.

"You hover well," Aemond muttered after a breath, his voice lower now, strained but not from pain.

A pause.

Then—

"Like a wife."

You froze. Your fingers stilled against his arm. Your breath caught, just barely, but enough for him to see it.

Aemond exhaled slowly, watching you carefully, gaze steady, unmoving.

"Is that what you wish to be?"

You didn't answer at first. Couldn't bring yourself to.

Not when his voice sounded like that. Thick with something darker than mischief, something more dangerous than simple want.

Your hands still rested on his wounded arm, but you were no longer tending to it. Not really. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, tense, like a bowstring drawn taut.

He leaned back slightly in the chair, his eye drinking you in. That gaze alone could’ve undone you. It always had a way of seeing through silk, skin, and pride alike.

“Little dove, you hover well,” he repeated, slower now, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in something just shy of a smirk. “Like a wife. Could be mine.”

Your thighs tightened around him before you even realized it.

“And if I do?” you asked quietly, voice low but steady, trying not to betray the shiver running down your spine. “What then?”

His eye flared. The good hand, the uninjured one came to rest at your hip, fingers pressing firm, grounding you.

“Then I would have you,” he said, plainly. “Truly.”

Before you could speak again, he shifted beneath you, just a little, just enough and the press of him beneath the confines of his breeches made your breath stutter. He was already hard. Already aching.

“You enjoy tormenting me,” you whispered.

“You started it,” he muttered, voice gone gravel-low. “Straddling me like this, pressing your warmth against me and expecting I’ll do nothing?”

You bit your lip. The pulse between your legs throbbed with the heat of his words.

“I was trying to treat your wound.”

“And now you’re wounding me in a far crueler way,” he growled.

His hand slid up your back, slow and possessive, settling at the nape of your neck. He pulled you down, mouth barely brushing yours, lips parted, waiting.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

You didn’t.

You kissed him.

It was not gentle. There was no time for that. Not with the ache already blooming in your core, not with the way he groaned the moment your tongue met his. He kissed like he fought. Sharp, commanding, with a hunger barely contained.

Your hips ground against him without thought, dragging a low curse from his throat.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Do that again.”

You did. And again.

He gripped your waist hard now, guiding the motion, grinding you down against the thick length straining beneath you. There was nothing separating you but the thin layers of cloth, and even that felt unbearable.

“Aemond,” you gasped into his mouth.

“I want you,” he said, voice hoarse, needy, reverent. “Here. Now. Let the gods turn their gaze.”

His good hand slipped between your thighs, cupping the heat there, pressing through the damp fabric. You whimpered. Rocked into it.

“So wet already,” he growled, almost with disbelief. “You want this too, don't you?”

You nodded, dizzy from the friction, the pace, the scent of him, the possessiveness in every touch.

He gripped your hips again. “Up,” he said, and you obeyed. You lifted just enough for him to shove down his breeches, his cock springing free.

You stared. He smirked.

“Shall I lay you down?” he offered, voice like temptation itself. “Or do you ride me like you threatened to?”

You answered by sinking down, slowly, taking him inch by inch, gasping as he stretched you open.

He cursed, jaw tight, eye fluttering shut for just a moment. “Seven—fuck—”

You moved gently at first, testing the give of him, the way your body clung to every ridge and vein. But Aemond wasn’t built for gentleness, not in moments like this.

His hands gripped your arse, guiding your rhythm into something rougher, deeper, letting you grind down until he was buried to the hilt, the tip of him hitting something that made your eyes roll back.

You rode him like you meant to break him.

And gods, he let you.

You rocked against him, the stretch deep and maddening, each motion scraping raw the ache that had long burned between you both.

But Aemond was growing restless beneath your rhythm. Not impatient, no, ravenous. His hands, once fixed to your waist, dragged upward along your sides, finding the ties at the back of your gown. You barely registered the shift in his breath before you heard the soft snap of thread.

“Aemond—” you gasped as he pulled at the fabric slow, deliberate, tearing it apart at the seams.

“You wear too many things,” he muttered, his eye fixed on your chest now as the loosened fabric slid down your shoulders.

You gasped as the top of your dress gave way, exposing the curve of your breasts to the candlelight, flushed and rising with every shaky breath. The cool air made your skin pebble, but the heat in his eye made you burn.

He exhaled like a man famished. “You are divine.”

He leaned forward, mouth open and reverent, and took one of your peaks into his mouth. His tongue circled slowly, then sucked, not gently, drawing a cry from your lips. Your spine arched, pressing you further into his mouth, your hands flying to his hair, holding him there.

“Aemond…” you moaned, hips rolling against him involuntarily, lost in the sensation of his mouth, his cock still buried so deep inside you, twitching with every moan you gave him.

He groaned against your breast, the vibration making your toes curl. “Do you feel how tight you are around me?” he murmured, switching to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. Licking, biting, soothing with his tongue.

“You were made for this… made for me.”

His lips trailed lower, across your ribs just for a little bit, then back up, catching your jaw in a kiss that stole your breath. Your hips ground against his in a rough, desperate rhythm now, the angle pulling moans from you with each stroke.

But he wasn’t done.

“You’re shaking,” he rasped. “Are you close?”

You could only nod. Lips parted, eyes glazed, trying to ride that edge without falling too fast.

He gripped your hips again, holding you down hard as he thrust up, deep and brutal. You choked on a cry.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Only yours—Aemond, gods—”

Your walls fluttered again, your nails digging crescent moons into his shoulders, the pressure unbearable now.

“I can feel you,” he panted. “Let go, love. Let go. It is alright, I got you."

And you did. You shattered around him with a strangled cry, your entire body tensing, pulsing, clinging to him as he fucked you through it.

Aemond cursed beneath you, his thrusts more erratic now. With a low groan and a final deep thrust, he spilled into you, his body jerking, clutching you to him like he could bury himself in your skin.

You stayed like that for a while. Both of you heaving, tangled, his forehead against your collarbone, his lips brushing your skin with every breath.

Your dress hung in tatters, your legs still wrapped around him, your pulse still stuttering.

When he finally looked up, his eye was heavy, soft. “You still hover,” he whispered.

You smiled lazily, brushing his damp hair from his face. “Like a wife?”

He pulled you down for one last kiss.

“No,” he murmured. “Like a queen. My queen.”

#no beta we die like aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #ewan mitchell

168 notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 10 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, power imbalance, incest, cheating

1.01

Your fingers twitch as you approach the queen’s private quarters. It would be the first time you had been in it; since being brought to Dragonstone, you’d mainly remained in your own bedchamber, the sept, or Aegon's Garden. You weren’t allowed to wander the halls yourself, and you most definitely weren’t privy to the information being discussed during the council meetings.

“Princess,” Ser Erryk tilts his head slightly and opens the door, letting you inside.

You avoid the knights face; up until a few moons prior, Ser Erryk was one of the kingsguards sworn to keep you and your siblings safe; however, when your father died and Aegon was placed upon the throne, Ser Erryk left kings landing and fled to Dragonstone to swear his sword to the queen.

Walking further into the room, your eyes land on Rhaenyra; she was sitting hunched over at her desk, scowling at the scroll in her hand. You stare at her for a moment; her silver hair was unbraided and fallen waves swayed around her face, and she was wearing a light gray nightgown. It seems she was getting ready to retire for the night before deciding to summon you.

“Your grace.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh and drops the scroll. Rhaenyra shakes her head. “Meleys head was paraded through kings landing for all the small folk to see.”

“Oh.”

“It was on the order of Aegon’s council. The dowager queen and Aemond stood on the balconies of the red keep overlooking this... abomination.”

“I believe it is a half-truth, your grace.”

Scoffing, she finally turns to look at you. “I did not ask what you believed in.”

“Forgive me; I thought I may have some insight, but I overstepped.”

Her gaze is intense. “You’ll do well to remember you are my hostage.”

She was right; you were taken from kings landing against your own free will, yet Rhaenyra hadn’t been cruel to you once. You had been well fed and clothed, and not once had anyone spoken out of turn to you. She holds your stare for a moment before turning back to look at her desk.

“You look different,” you say, breaking the silence. “During the day you look at what I imagine Queen Visenya did, but here and now I’d say you resemble her younger sister, Rhaenys.”

It may have been an odd thing to say, but it was the truth; there was a stark contrast between how fierce she looks during the day and night. Sighing, Rhaenyra stands with her arms crossed. “The path I walk has never been trod. I must be sure I only seek counsel from those I can trust.”

“I’m no fool; I do not think you’ll trust me so easily, but I must say if you think me being a hostage would lure my husband here, then you are mistaken; Aemond cares only for his own ambitions.”

“You know the enemy well, and that makes you valuable.”

You feel your cheeks start to heat up and rub at the back of your neck, desperate for the conversation to change. “There are very few who would have the authority to order something as heinous as beheading a dragon. My mother wouldn’t have the stomach for it, and Aemond knows how special our dragons are; he practically worships his own.”

“What of Aegon?”

You stiffle a laugh. “Forgive me, tis not funny; it’s just Aegon’s thoughts go no further than whores and wine. Although his hand has no respect for our house's symbol, I suspect it was him.”

“So Otto was behind this.”

“No, your grace, my grandsire was sent away from court. Cristion Cole is his new hand.”

She looks genuinely shocked to hear that. Shaking her head, she starts to walk in the direction of her bed. “You may go and retire for the night. I will... we will speak more in the morrow.”

“For what it’s worth, I always thought you would have made a good queen.”

Rhaenyra abruptly stops walking; she stills for a few seconds then suddenly rushes over towards you, pulling you into her embrace. Her nose brushes against the side of your neck; her action has a certain sweetness to it. Unintentionally, your lips skim against her jawline, and you notice the way her breathing quickens, and you feel her heart racing faster in her chest.

“I accept you as my queen and ruler, Rhaenyra,” you mumble, moving to kiss her neck.

Her hand gently strokes the back of your hair, careful not to pull on your braids. Your own hand slowly moves from her back to her ribs, then up towards her breast. You momentarily stop to see if Rhaenyra slaps your hand away or tells you to stop, but she doesn’t; instead, the smallest whine leaves her mouth.

Still kissing her neck, your fingers trace over the delicate fabric covering her body, and you palm at her chest, enjoying hearing her moan. You lower the fabric of her nightgown enough for her breast to become exposed; her skin is soft beneath your fingers.

Your foreheads touch as she kisses you; her lips were soft and tasted of mint; no doubt she has drank tea recently.

Moving your mouth downwards, your teeth lightly graze her nipple, not enough to cause pain but enough to get a reaction. You swirl your tongue around her nipple before taking it into your mouth. Rhaenyra arches her back, “Oh gods.”

All you can focus on is giving her pleasure. Between licking and sucking, you say, “I want to make you feel good, my queen; I know how frustrated you must be.”

Before Rhaenyra can say anything back, there is a knock at the door, causing the two of you to jump apart. She fixes her nightgown, clears her throat, then calls out, “Come.”

Elinda enters the room with a smile on her face and a tray with fresh tea on it.

—

For weeks you wanted to interact with those on Dragonstone; let them know you played no part in your mother and brothers doings, but now standing across the table from Lord Corlys and Prince Jacaerys, you wished for nothing more than to hide in the privacy of your chamber.

Rhaenyra gives her son a knowing glance, and he eases up slightly.

In truth, you had been worried about how Rhaenyra would act towards you after what happened the night before. It had crossed your mind she would ignore you, but she had invited you to join them in the chamber of the painted table. It wasn’t quite a council meeting with only four of you, but it was a start to gaining her trust.

“My mother says Cole is now Aegon’s hand,” Jacaerys says sharply.

“Her grace is correct. My grandsire and Aegon had a falling out, and he made Criston his new hand.”

“What did they fall out about?”

“Jaehaerys death,” you look down at the table and pray no tears fall. The death of your nephew was devastating. “Or how his death was handled, I should say, my grandsire had Jaehaerys body paraded throughout kings landing for all to see and forced my mother and sister to go along with the body despite Aegon and Helaena saying they didn’t want that.”

Rhaenyra shakes her head and quietly says, “Helaena is innocent in all of this.”

“The gold cloak, Blood, said it was he and a rat catcher who... did what they did, but he didn’t know the man’s name, so Aegon had all the rat catchers hung, their bodies left to hand and rot in the street. My grandsire feared this would upset the order of things, and then Criston was made hand.”

“And how has Cole fared as a hand?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at Jacaerys questioning. "Well, as I was taken from the Sept the following day, I am unclear as to what has happened. But I imagine Aegon will be outnumbered. Cole will be working with Aemond.”

“And what happened at Rook’s rest,” Lord Corlys, is rawer than you expected. “Was there doing?”

“I could not say, but I think the only thing Aegon loves more than himself is Sunfyre; I don’t think he would knowingly risk his dragon's safety.”

The following hour is tough; the Prince and Lord ask you question after question; none of you could give a real answer to it. It was hard; they were both grieving, as was Rhaenyra, all because of your brother-husband's actions.

You finish the remaining wine in your glass and meet Rhaenyra’s gaze. “If I am to continue offering you information, I must be assured of one thing.”

Her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “And what is that?”

“Helaena and her child, along with Daeron, are spared.”

Rhaenyra nods, so you keep your word and continue. “The Greens Council is a mess; it’s disorganized, and my mother is losing all control she had over my brothers.”

Jacaerys tilts his head to the side; he seems genuinely curious. “How so?”

“Aegon does not thank her for forcing him to be in the position he is in, and she blames Aemond for starting this war, and he disagrees.”

“Do you?”

Your fingers knot together; it was a difficult question to answer. “I think the war started the day my mother and grandsire began plotting to usurp the throne.”

“Thank you, princess,” Rhaenyra says before anything else has been asked. “That is all for today.”

—

“Thank you, Elinda; that is all for tonight.”

“Your grace,” the handmaiden picks up a tray with an empty bowl on it then leaves the queen's chambers.

After you were dismissed earlier, you were yet to see anyone else until you were summoned to the queen's chambers again. You were still confused about why she asked for you the first time, but you’d find out another day. Rhaenyra was already pacing back and forth, so this wasn’t a good time to ask. She was wearing a nightgown similar to the one the night before, except this one was a lighter shade.

“The cobblestones are strong, but you may still put a hole in them, yet.”

She briefly lets out a chuckle but continues to pace. You step forward and reach for her hands, stopping her from walking anymore. “Rhaenyra, what’s wrong?”

She chews on her bottom lip, looking deep in thought before answering. She smirks, “I’ve found myself frustrated again.”

She pulls you in for a kiss while walking backwards until her bum hits the edge of her bed. Rhaenyra sits back and brings the bottom of her nightgown to her hips and opens her legs, giving you access to her bare cunt.

Nothing else needs to be said.

You go down onto your knees and press a kiss to her damp curls. Your eyes locked with her as you spread her fold’s open with your fingers before licking her, savoring her sweet taste.

“Oh fuck,” Rhaenyra’s moans and puts her legs over your shoulders.

You continue teasing her with your tongue before moving your attention to her clit, which you begin to suck on. Rhaenyra’s fingers tangle into your hair, her tight grip causing your braids to fall out of place. Her thighs begin to shake around your head as she comes.

While she composes herself, you lean back on your heels and press your cheek to the inside of her thigh.

“I had no idea you would be so good at that.

You chuckle, “Do you want me to do it again?”

“If you wish it.”

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen x fem reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen fanfic #Rhaenyra Targaryen/you #Rhaenyra Targaryen/reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #sweet torture

759 notes · View notes

baelarys · 10 months ago

Note

req!!

jealous aemond at their twin daughters or their other child nameday…when the reader be ask dancing with some lord. And BAM jealous husband moments…

𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨

Aemond targaryen x reader velaryon ¡Niece!

Word count: 3222

Warninig: Jealousy, fluff

Pt1,pt2 & pt3(I will continue with this dynamic until I die or you get tired hahaha because I love this little family, don't be shy and make more requests for whatever you want!)

Everything had to look impeccable, perfect like in a fairy tale, and you had worked hard to make sure it was so. The castle halls and gardens had been adorned with millions of flowers, each one carefully selected to harmonize with the colorful and majestic tapestries hanging from the stone walls. The servants had worked tirelessly under your watchful supervision, ensuring that not a single detail was out of place.

You had eagerly awaited this day, your princesses' name day, an event that brought together the most powerful Lords and Ladies of Westeros. The sun shone high in the sky, blessing the celebration with its warm light, while the tables in the gardens filled with delicate dishes and golden cups of wine.

You stood by the grand doors of the hall, attentively watching as the guests arrived. Elegant laughter and lively conversations filled the air as ladies in silk and brocade dresses gracefully paraded, followed by knights whose armor gleamed in the sun. The banners of the great houses fluttered proudly in the wind, each a reminder of the nobility and power gathered at your celebration. Every courteous gesture, every measured smile, and respectful bow reflected the harmony you had worked so hard to achieve.

Your daughters, Vaera and Vaerys, were the very image of joy and youthful pride. Clad in matching dresses, their golden hair crowned with flower garlands gleamed under the light. They walked confidently through the hall and gardens, their small steps filled with enthusiasm and curiosity, as if they were truly the mistresses of the place. The laughter of both mingled with the soft music accompanying the event, as they played carefree among the guests, who were quick to praise their charm and beauty. The attention they received pleased them immensely, their childish smiles lighting up every corner they passed.

Aerion, on the other hand, did not share his sisters' festive spirit. Since waking up, he seemed to carry a cloud of discontent that darkened his little face. He had not left your side all day, and his irritability became evident whenever you tried to step away for even a few minutes. As soon as you were out of sight, his cries echoed through the halls, a constant reminder of his foul mood. Your attempts to soothe him with sweet words and caresses seemed to have only a temporary effect, as any interruption of your presence turned him into an inconsolable baby.

The hour of the banquet had finally arrived, and you found yourself seated next to Aemond, who, despite his well-known aversion to such events, wore an expression of patient resignation, trying his best to appear comfortable in the midst of the celebration. The great hall was filled, with the royal family occupying the seats of honor. To your right, Queen Alicent exchanged solemn glances with her children, while your mother and grandmother, Rhaenys, and the Velaryons sat at the main table alongside your maternal relatives. The torches illuminated the room, casting golden reflections on the goblets and platters overflowing with delicacies.

You, for your part, tried to remain present, though your attention was divided between the banqueting bustle and Aerion’s persistent restlessness, still nestled in your lap. With gentle movements, you stroked his golden hair, trying to soothe him as the little one emitted soft sighs of exhaustion. It was a fragile, temporary comfort, as if at any moment the child's bad mood might resurface.

Suddenly, an unsettling feeling crept over you, as if a burning gaze was resting on your skin, piercing through the warm atmosphere of the hall. At first, you thought it was Aemond, watching you as he often did when he thought you wouldn’t notice. You turned your head slightly, expecting to find his one eye fixed on you, but to your surprise, he was engrossed in a whispered conversation with his mother, Queen Alicent. Their words were barely audible, but his concentration seemed complete.

Confused, you glanced away, discreetly searching the nearby faces. That’s when you saw him. It wasn’t Aemond watching you so intently, but Lord Donald Tarly, whose position at the table gave him a clear view of you. His penetrating green eyes were fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and something more—something difficult to decipher from across the distance. It was a gaze laden with intentions you couldn’t interpret at that moment but which undoubtedly made you uncomfortable.

The lord, heir to one of the oldest and most respected houses of the Reach, had only recently arrived at court after several campaigns on the western border. His reputation as a formidable warrior and strategist preceded him, and although his public demeanor had been impeccable, that insistent scrutiny from the other side of the room made you feel vulnerable.

Instinctively, you adjusted Aerion's position in your lap, using the movement to divert your gaze and cover up by appearing focused on your child. However, the discomfort remained. Lord Tarly's gaze was unyielding, as if he was waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

Aemond, despite his apparent detachment from the surroundings, noticed the change in your posture. "Is everything alright?" he murmured, his deep voice barely a whisper as he leaned closer to you, his expression unchanging. There was no need to explain the situation to him; his keen perception seemed to have sensed your discomfort even before you fully understood it yourself.

The banquet continued, with the atmosphere growing denser and more charged as the food came in endless trays of roasted meats, golden breads, and fragrant sweets. However, your attention was far from the feast. Aerion, still in your arms, was beginning to fidget, his heavy eyelids struggling against the sleep that wouldn’t quite come. His sisters, not far off, had started to sway in their seats, their eyes heavy with sleep after a day of games and excitement.

With a gentle gesture, you leaned toward Aemond. "I think it's time to put the children to bed," you whispered, watching as Aerion nestled closer to you, seeking the warmth of your body. Aemond nodded slightly, a sign of approval that needed no further words. With one last look at the hall, you carefully stood up, holding Aerion in your arms while summoning one of the maids to help with the girls.

You left the hall, leaving behind the growing clamor of the evening. The sounds of laughter and animated conversations were muffled as you walked away, and the echo of your footsteps resonated in the wide corridors. The torches illuminated your path as the girls, tired but obedient, followed closely.

You finally reached the children's rooms, where the maids had already prepared their beds. Gently, you placed Aerion in his crib, caressing his forehead with a tenderness only a mother could offer. His eyes, now almost closed, sought yours for a brief moment before surrendering to sleep. The girls, between whispers and soft giggles, were guided to their beds by the maids, who soon dimmed the lights and left them to their dreams.

Once you ensured that everyone was peacefully asleep, you paused for a moment to watch them. Aerion breathed calmly, and his sisters, wrapped in their blankets, looked as innocent and peaceful as the day they were born. You sighed, letting go of some of the tension you had accumulated throughout the night.

When you returned to the great hall, the atmosphere had changed dramatically. The festivities had evolved, shedding the formalities that marked the ceremonial dinners. Now, laughter was louder, wine glasses were raised more frequently, and the sound of music blended with the clinking of glasses and the rhythmic footsteps on the marble floor.

The center of the hall was cleared, turned into an improvised dance floor. Pairs of nobles, some visibly affected by wine, spun and laughed, their garments shining under the torchlight. The music, once soft, had come to life, with violins and lutes setting a livelier rhythm, suited for the occasion. The younger guests, those who stayed away from the stern gazes of the older ones, seemed to embrace the celebration with a freedom you had not seen earlier in the evening.

Determined to return to your seat next to Aemond, you maneuvered around the edges of the dance floor, avoiding the couples spinning and laughing in their intoxication. The hall vibrated with the lively music of the lutes and violins, and the atmosphere, filled with wine and laughter, seemed to intensify by the second.

However, just before reaching your destination, an unexpected obstacle appeared before you. As you looked up, you came face to face with Lord Donald Tarly. His smile was wide, and the warmth with which he regarded you suggested more than mere courtesy. His eyes roamed your face with a familiarity that made you uncomfortable, but there was no way to avoid the encounter without appearing rude.

"My lady," he greeted with a courteous bow, though his tone held a confidence that bordered on insolence. "It would be an honor to invite you to dance."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the urge to decline his offer to avoid stirring Aemond’s displeasure. However, given the public nature of the event and the presence of nobles and allies, you decided to maintain appearances. After all, it was just a dance, and courtesy dictated that you should not refuse without a clear reason.

"Of course, Lord Tarly," you replied with a nod, taking his hand when he offered it. You knew Aemond wouldn’t be pleased, but you trusted he would understand; after all, some formalities were unavoidable in court.

Lord Tarly’s fingers gently closed around yours as he guided you to the dance floor. The music continued to resonate, and the violins began a softer melody, fitting for a quiet conversation. As you started to move to the rhythm, Lord Tarly broke the silence.

“It’s an honor to dance with you tonight, my lady. I must confess I’ve been looking forward to this moment since I arrived at the banquet,” he said, his tone kind but with a hint of flirtation.

You managed a courteous smile. “It’s a pleasure, Lord Tarly. I hope you’ve enjoyed the festivities.”

“I would enjoy it more if every night included the privilege of your company,” he replied without losing composure. You could feel his gaze examining you with interest, and you decided not to respond to that.

However, as the dance continued, you found yourself laughing at one of Lord Tarly’s anecdotes. Despite your initial reservations, the conversation turned out to be more pleasant than you had anticipated. His humor was subtle, and his ability to keep the conversation flowing made time pass quickly.

But then, as you gently twirled to the music, you felt a shiver run down your spine. It was as if an invisible force compelled you to look across the room. Raising your gaze, you met Aemond’s eyes on the other side of the hall. He was seated, his posture rigid, his expression grave. The tension in his jaw was evident, and though he hadn’t said a word, his gaze conveyed everything you needed to know. Aemond’s lips barely moved, but the fire in his eyes indicated that the scene before him displeased him greatly.

Your heart skipped a beat. Aemond was not known for his patience when it came to you, especially when someone else showed interest in your attention. His gaze was a mix of jealousy and barely concealed anger, and you could see how his fingers tightened around the goblet he held, as if trying to contain himself.

“Are you alright, princess?” Lord Tarly’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You forced a smile, though your attention was no longer fully on the conversation. “Yes, of course. Just a bit distracted.”

“I see that Prince Aemond is watching you quite intently,” Tarly remarked with a barely perceptible smile. “I hope I’m not causing any misunderstandings.”

You tried to laugh lightly, though you knew the situation was becoming more tense. “No, of course not. Aemond is… very protective, that’s all.”

“Protective?” Lord Tarly’s smile widened a little. “I can’t blame him. There’s certainly much to protect.”

You felt uncomfortable at the double meaning in his words, and as the music began to slow down, you decided it was time to end the dance. “It has been a pleasure, Lord Tarly, but I think I should return to my husband.”

You stepped away gracefully, determined to return to Aemond. When you sat next to him, you hoped he would break the silence, but he did not. He didn’t even look at you. His jaw was tight, and the jealous glint in his single eye was unmistakable, though he made no effort to conceal it.

Frustrated, you took his hand in yours, trying to smooth over the situation. However, his rigidity remained. “Do whatever you want,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of irritation and exasperation.

You hoped for a reaction, a word, something that indicated he was willing to discuss the issue, but Aemond simply continued to stare ahead, his silence more stubborn than ever. You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to keep pressing the issue. You had no intention of arguing over something so trivial. Not here, not now, and certainly not over a minor courtly dance.

His jealousy seemed, at that moment, rather childish. You stood up firmly, adjusting your dress with a decisive gesture. There was no reason to prolong the discomfort of the situation, especially not in public. You decided that it was best to retreat to your room. If Aemond wanted to maintain that absurd attitude, you would not waste your energy discussing it at a banquet full of onlookers. Not for something so insignificant.

Aemond did not stop you, which irritated you even more. Without looking back, you left the hall. As you made your way through the torch-lit corridors, you felt the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease slightly. You repeated to yourself that distance would do you both good and that tomorrow, things would surely look clearer.

You reached your room, closing the door softly behind you, though more decisively than you had intended. Silence greeted you, and the tranquility you had longed for during the hectic night began to settle. You removed your jewelry with methodical movements, letting your thoughts drift away from the previous scene.

But the echo of your thoughts was soon interrupted when you heard the door open with an almost imperceptible sound. There was no need to turn around to know who it was. Aemond.

You turned slowly, finding him in the doorway, his expression a mix of wounded pride and barely contained regret. There was no need for immediate words; his presence said it all. He couldn't bear the idea of letting you go like this, just like that. And although he was a man who rarely apologized openly, you knew that his way of following you was, in itself, an acknowledgment that he had let jealousy overpower him.

"Are you going to say something?" you asked, keeping your gaze fixed on him. Your tone, though controlled, had enough acidity for him to know you weren't willing to let the matter pass easily.

Aemond stopped a few steps away from you, his gaze locked with yours, but the silence continued to fill the space between you both. He seemed to be torn between his pride and the desire to make things right, a tug-of-war that you knew all too well in him.

"What do you want me to say?" he finally murmured, his voice low but charged with barely disguised tension. "That I didn't care to see another man approaching you as if he had any right? That I should have stood idly by while he looked at you that way?"

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of you. "Aemond, it was a simple dance. Nothing more. You can't react like this every time someone speaks to me. This isn’t the battlefield, and not everyone is an enemy."

"A simple dance?" he retorted, taking another step toward you, his eyebrow raised. "I saw what I saw, and it wasn't just a dance. That man has no idea what respect means, and I'm not going to tolerate anyone even thinking they can..." He stopped, his words hanging in the air as he struggled to contain the rising heat of his temper.

"Can what?" you challenged, shaking your head, frustrated. "What do you think is going to happen, Aemond? That I’ll leave you for Lord Tarly? For a man I barely know and, to be honest, means absolutely nothing to me? You can’t keep acting as if any interaction is a threat to you."

For a moment, his eyes showed something more than jealousy: there was insecurity in his gaze, a shadow that he rarely revealed. You knew it wasn’t just a matter of wounded pride; there was something deeper affecting him.

"I can’t stand the idea..." he started to say, his voice softer now, almost broken, "that someone else might even imagine having your attention, your closeness. I’m a man of war, but with you... I don’t know how to handle this."

The echo of his words hit you hard, disarming any defenses you had built. Aemond, however fierce he was with people or in court, found himself lost when it came to expressing what he felt for you.

You looked at him for a moment, letting your shoulders drop, tired of the argument and knowing that despite everything, there was some truth in his fears. "You don’t have to handle anything. I’m not going anywhere, Aemond. I’m here, with you."

There was a silence loaded with emotion before he took the final step toward you, closing the space between you both. His hand slowly rose to your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that always surprised you in someone like him. "I’m sorry," he murmured, almost in a whisper, his gaze searching yours.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours in a kiss that, although starting softly, soon grew more intense, filled with a mixture of regret and need. Your hands clung to his clothes, responding with equal fervor, allowing the tension that had filled the space between you both to dissolve in that intimate moment.

When he pulled away, just a few inches, his eyes shone with a silent promise. "It won’t happen again," he assured, his forehead resting against yours. And in that moment, you knew that, as complicated as the emotions you shared were, you would always find your way back to each other.

613 notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 1 year ago

Text

Here & Now

pairing: Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, loss of virginity, targaryen incest themes, tw: blood, tw: knives

words: 3.1K

-----------------------------⚔️----------------------------------

When you were a little girl, your mother used to read you stories. Ones about knights, fey creatures, and princesses locked in towers. You never liked the tower ones. You always asked why they just didn't jump out of the tower to get away.

Looking down at the courtyard from your window, you realized that maybe they had a long way down as you did and that's why they couldn't get away.

The door opened and you sprung from your seat to face your intruder. You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t Aemond. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” His voice was even, but years of being near each other told you that his undertones were that of someone who was ashamed. “Are you alright?”

“I am a prisoner in my own home, Aemond. What do you think?!” You don’t mean to scratch at him. You are sure this is none of his doing, but he was the only one here.

You felt the fool for choosing to stay with your great-aunt Rhaenys, not wanting her to be left alone; even fierce she-dragons needed someone to lean on. But this morning you were barred from leaving your chambers by gold cloaks. You demanded to know what was the meaning of this. Demanded to know what was going on. Demanded to speak to your grandfather. Yet no one would answer you.

“Our patriarch is dead.” You felt a stone sink into your stomach. Somehow, you knew this to be true. King Viserys was very ill. It was only a collection of days in the best circumstances. “They’re going to make Aegon king this afternoon.” You felt as though the stone, and your breakfast, was going to come back up.

“So you are going to usurp my mother’s claim?! Take her birthright away!”

“It’s not my doing.” Aemond snapped at you. Clearly tired of being scratched. “It’s my mothers.” You scoff. You both know that Alicent’s clumsy maneuverings are just the attempts of her father. The King’s Hand with the knife in his back.

“So I am to what, hm? Sit here quietly while you take away my family’s future until you throw me over the walls edge?”

“I doubt you would sit here quietly, and no one is going to throw you over a wall, or any other ledge. Not if I have a say in it.”

You laugh. Despite yourself. Aemond was always funny, if you paid attention to him.

So few ever did. A second son, of a second marriage, with a princess in line for the throne. He was as meaningless as sand to the beaches to most people, then avoided completely after he was maimed. You always felt bad for that. Thought it was unfair that Lucerys got off scot-free after he crippled one of their own. People called those who took blood from their family Kinslayers, but what of those that maim their members?

“So you will let me go?”

Aemond shrugged. “Probably.” It was likely the best answer he could give. This wasn’t his decision. He couldn’t honestly tell you either way. But he did know, “you cannot take your dragon though.”

You felt your heart freeze in your chest. As if your Targaryen blood rushed out of you at the thought of abandoning your dragon. “You would take Stormsheild from me?” Your voice quaked despite your efforts. “Why not just cut off my arm? My heart….”

Aemond rushed over to you as you began to sob. Everything crashing down around you, and the thought of losing your dragon too much to bear. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He whispered in your hair. “You can stay here. With me.”

You pull back from Aemond’s chest to look at him. Blinking away tears as you must not have heard him right. “What?”

“Stay here with me.” He repeated it. You had not misheard. “Stay with me and you can keep Stormshield and your home, and be back in line for the throne. As my queen.”

You step back from Aemond to look at him. “You would…have me forsake my own mother? Turn my back on her?”

“You were always meant to turn your back on her to be with me.” He clasped at your hand. Not pulling you close again but not letting you go. Aemond speaks of course of your engagement. You had been betrothed from a young age, much like Aegon & Helaena or any other noble child in the realm. King Viserys last ditch effort to bring the two sides of his family together, you assumed. It had not gone over well with Alicent or your mother. Your father threw a chair when his side was alone. But none of them could stand against the king and his decision, so the pact stood.

You had not been upset about it like the adults. You cared for Aemond. He had been sweet when you left him. You sent him ravens. He remembered your nameday and sent your candied treats in secret. And when you return, he had grown into a fine, if not jaded, man. Fierce, refined, handsome. What had been childhood friendship and fancy turned into a blooming love overnight. One you were excited to explore. But now your blooms were burning into ash.

“My mother won’t stand for this. My father will come.”

“I have no doubt he will try.” There was no way Daemon would let his truest daughter, his favorite, stay here without a fight. He wouldn’t be so brazen about his favoritism like his father, but even with his one-eye Aemond could tell that you were his favorite over his Velaryon vipers. If Rhaenyra took the throne, he would have broken their engagement the first chance he got. A second son nowhere near good enough for his Targaryen jewel. Now he had all the more reason to break it, as Aemond wasn’t stupid enough to think Rhaenyra & Daemon were going to give up the throne without a fight. But what if he didn’t have a choice?

“I want you to be my wife. Right here. Right now.”

You looked at Aemond in shock. Suddenly afraid. “You’re not going to—“I would never hurt you.” He seemed offended you would even suggest it. Understandable. “But this was how it was always meant to be. You and me. No matter what happens, no one can take that away from us if you agree to be mine. We can be together.”

Your head was swimming. Your heart was pounding. “L…Let me think…”

“There’s no time.” Aemond insisted. “Once the coronation starts, Aegon will be King and that will be the end of it.” They will be divided. Those for Rhaenyra. Those for his brother. And Aemond did not trust his brother or family not to ruin this for him. Just as Daemon would have her taken from him, his mother and family would do the same. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to give up one more thing for Aegon’s happiness. “Say you’ll be mine. Say you will be my wife. Say you’ll stay here with me and we will be here together. Tell me that you want that.”

“I do.”

The words leave your mouth without you even realizing it. You had spent so long imagining a future with Aemond. He was your intended. He was your future. You loved him, but you also loved your mother & your family.

Aemond doesn’t recognize your distress though and swooped in to kiss you passionately. The two of you had kissed before. Brief, as children, to see what it was like. Then again before you left as a sort of parting gift. Then once final upon your return as a welcome home and back in his arms. It had never been like this before. Aemond, for all his hard edge, was gentle and shy with you. Now, however, he kissed you like a man who meant to consume you. Taking you into his body, instead of the other way around, so you could never leave him. When he broke away from you your vision swam. Righting itself after a few deep breaths but all you could see was Aemond.

“Undress.” You blink up at him in shock. “If we do this now, there’s nothing they can do.”

You realize Aemond wants not just your words but your chastity. As a sign of good faith. He wants to consummate your marriage before your vows. Cart before the horse. Everyone would have no choice but to accept your marriage now, or your side would risk the news that you were no longer a maiden and rumors Aemond was no more than a craven opportunist who would force himself of a captured princess.

You gulp. Feeling your tears bead up again in your eyes. This was not how you pictured your life with Aemond starting. This was not the dream you were meant to share. But dreams often fall short of reality.

For Aemond’s part, he also swallowed the lump in his throat and began to undress. Paying no mind to the habitual work of undoing his jerkin and belts to look at you. He hadn’t thought much on his marriage before your return. Save that he would do it and try his best. He would do his duty and have you give the realm more Targaryen blood to reign and treat you as honorably as he could. But on the few times he did think of his marriage, he would think of the wedding and your wedding night. How he would take his time with you. Appreciate you, the way you should be appreciated as a lady, as a Targaryen royal, and as his wife. But that was all gone. They will not have time for sweet words and sweet moments. That will have to come later now. Just another thing taken from him.

You feel embarrassed to be standing naked in from of Aemond. Your hands hopelessly trying to cover your modesty. Fretful glances around as if some septa in the shadows was going to jump out and cast shame on you. “Lie on the bed.” You do as you’re beckoned and lay down. Stiff. Ridged. Your hands balled into fists at your sides to keep them from flying up and covering you again.

Aemond watched all of this and did not look pleased. Still, he climbed onto the bed on top of you, and you try to sink further into the mattress to instinctually get away. “I will try to be gentle.” His words certainly were. You relax as a bit of the Aemond you knew came back into his voice and nuzzle against the hand on your cheek. “But this may hurt. It is not my intention. None of this…this wasn’t what I wanted.”

You know he doesn’t mean ‘this’ in general, but how this has come about. “I know.” You were both doing something neither of you wanted in order to get what you did want. What was love without sacrifice?

“It should only be this time. And I swear I will never hurt you again. Please, do not hate me.” You touch Aemond’s cheek in return. You could never hate him. Be cross with him. Snap and bite at him from time to time, but never hate him. He must know that.

He nuzzled into your palm as you did his and rested there for a moment with his eye closed. He then nodded, opened it, and his hand was no longer touching your cheek but the sacred spot between your legs.

You jump at the touch with a sharp hiss. Trying to crawl out from under Aemond but blocked by the pillows. He held you back. Shushing you as he continued his touching. “It’s only this time.” He reminded you. And you try to remain calm and still as he kept going.

Aemond needed no proof that you were a maiden. Your trust and faithfulness was all he needed to know that you would not break the arrangement between you; although he had not been so chaste, but he was a man. When he touched you, however, it was clear that no one had been there before him. Your entrance was tight around his finger. Nearly barring him out. He wanted to tell you to relax, but felt he had no place for it. ‘Yes, my love, relax. Don’t think about the fact that you are about to lose your chastity to a brute. Or that my family is usurping yours. Don’t think about the fact that this still may not work and you have thrown everything away for a hairbrained plan of a desperate man who just doesn’t want to be alone.’ Yes. Those were the sweet words every girl wanted to hear on her ‘wedding night’.

He removed his finger from her entrance, bringing it up to his mouth to lick two then pushing both back in. You whine. Feeling your entrance stretch to an uncomfortable level of accommodation. Your mother had been very forthcoming on what to expect from your wedding night, although she had been clear she wished it to be far in the future. She let you know that there would be pain. That there would be times that it felt like it wasn’t worth it. But it was your duty as a wife, and, with the right man, it could be quite enjoyable. You knew what she meant now as you felt your apex burn. When would the ‘quite enjoyable’ start?

By the third finger inside you, you had gnawed on your bottom lip so hard you were drawing blood. Aemond said nothing. Just watched you. He seemed terrified to do anything than what he was doing. Finally, his fingers came free of you and shifted above you. "You need to spread your legs." They had instinctively closed when he pulled from you and you blush as you do as he says. "Please do not hate me."

You had thought your apex burned when his fingers were inside you, but if that was the case then your whole pelvis was on fire when he pushed inside you. Your hands fly up to claw at Aemond's back as you let out a wordless scream when he split you & your maidenhead open. "Stop! Wait, wait! It hurts!"

"I know." His words are apologetic as he offers you a kiss on the cheek but does not pull out. "Just bear with it for me."

He stopped long enough to give you time to adjust. Try to relax. Anything. Then he pulled his cock out and slid it back in. Your teeth grit at the pain. It’s not as bad as you thought, after the initial shock. It does hurt, but to hear people talk about it it was the same as losing a limb. You fell off Stormsheild once when you were a little girl. Bruised something fierce from the fall. That hurt worse than this, but it was no less uncomfortable.

Aemond tried to take this as slow as he could for you. He knows this is not how a maiden expects to become a woman. Some hard fast thing to be done with and move on. But the clock was ticking. They had very little time left before the coronation and the ceremony started. It needed to be finished before then.

That’s what he told himself.

In truth, he was a lost novice again inside you. Your warmth. Your tightness. Just…you. This was not how he pictured you being bonded to him, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t still elated that you were beneath him and soon all his.

He could feel his climax building. Unable to hold it back any longer. Aemond reached blindly for the knife at the side of your bed, as no true Targaryen would ever go to sleep without a blade at their side, and sliced your hand open. You cry out finally. Having kept your jaw tight the whole time you were doing this in order to not scream and turn wild eyed toward Aemond to ask him what the hells he was doing, only to see him cutting his own hand. He threw the knife away to the side and linked your hands together. His eye turned to you. Holding you there for a moment before he kissed you deeply to fully seal your bond. A Valyrian bond.

With the pain redirected to your hand, you can finally feel Aemond inside you with some joy. It’s not pleasurable, but it’s not painful. Your head swam at the realization that he was inside you, he was kissing you, that he was all around you until suddenly Aemond’s hips stopped and you realized that there was more than just his cock inside you.

He let your lips go after that. Panting with you. Sweaty. Whole. You hiss sharply when Aemond pulled out of you. The pain returning to your center from your hand. Still bloody, sheets bloody, why did there have to be so much blood for this?

Aemond sat up and ripped a corner of the sheets into two clean strips. One for you and one for him. He wrapped your hand first and then his own, before he pulled you close to him on the ruined bedding. “Are you alright?”

You shrug against him. Your maidenhood was sore. Your hand was throbbing. Your mother was about to be tossed aside and you were still technically a prisoner in your childhood home. You weren’t sure how to answer that question.

“I will have to go. For the ceremony.” Aemond doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does have to go. Must show a united front for the kingdom. “I’ll come back later. To check on you.”

“Will I be allowed to leave?” You ask him. That question had still not been answered.

“After it’s over we’ll go talk to my mother and King Hand.” A name you both gave his grandfather as children to tease him, in secret of course. It wasn't nearly as funny as you remembered now. “You are under my protection now. I will keep you safe.”

Safe. How strange that word sounded now. You had felt safe with your parents. You had felt safe within these walls. You had felt safe with Aemond. But all of that had suddenly changed. What was 'safe' now?

Aemond dressed quickly, then came over to you again. Tentative, shy even, he came over to give you a brief peck on the lips. Like the ones you used to give as children. “I will come back.” He promised again. “Everything will be alright.”

Then he was gone. You were alone. You pulled your knees to your chest, despite the pain in doing so, and look out your window. Maybe the other princesses stayed in the tower because they had no choice too.

783 notes · View notes

slaytheusurper · 1 year ago

Text

⭑ My dear betrothed ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!cousin!reader

Warnings: usual targcest, making out, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, mastrubation, groping.

Summary: After years of not seeing each other, you are to be wed to your cousin Jace, but can you hold off your desires for each other before the wedding?

Word count: 3.3k

Your arrival on Dragon Stone after weeks at sea was most welcoming, you were betrothed to your kind hearted cousin Jacaerys, heir to the iron throne. Being the eldest daughter of Daemon and Leana you were taken to ward by your grandmother the Princess Rhaenys. It was her and Princess Rhaenera’s idea to bring the families closer together so that the Targaryens and Velaryons could rule together again.

Normally the idea of a betrothal made you nervous and unsure but growing up with Jace you knew you would be safe with him. Not to mention the massive crush you had on him. Even as kids you were close, he made you laugh and feel confident. He protected you against your sinister cousins Aegon and Aemond and defended your honour more than once.

You saw him as this incredibly handsome, strong and skillful knight in shining armour, or rather prince in shining armour. However you haven’t seen him since he left Driftmark after your mother’s funeral and was very eager to see him. You were eager for him to see you as well, you had changed since you last saw each other. You were taller, curvier and your features defined. You had become a beautiful woman and couldn’t wait for him to see it.

The anxiety in your chest grew as you followed your grandmother Rhaenys through the grand doors of Dragon Stone. It was a cold, windy and intimidating place, but knowing your future husband was inside made it feel a whole lot warmer. As you entered the room after your grandmother you felt a pair of arms wrap strongly around you and in the corner of your eye you caught the glimpse of the silver hair on her head.

“Sister!” Rhaena almost sobbed as she hugged you from behind. She loosened her grip a bit to let you turn around. “Rhaena, gods have I missed you. You’ve grown into a real woman, a real princess, look at you!” You gasped, she had become beautiful just as Baela, who stayed at Driftmark due to her getting a sudden cold a day before you were supposed to depart.

“You as well, I have missed you too sister. As much as I love it here with father, I still miss our flights and dancing lessons every day.” She muttered into your shoulder. Then she noticed. “Where is Baela?” She asked, confused. “She had to stay at Driftmark due to a cold she caught before we left. It made me so sad thinking that we could finally be reunited but the maesters insisted she stayed, grandfather stayed with her.” You explained.

She nodded understandingly and then your eyes caught your fathers. A big smile grew on both your faces and you ran into his arms. Out of the three of you, you had the closest bond with your father, sharing his passion for battles and history. As you let go you greeted Rhaenyra who was standing beside him.

The noise of heavy doors opening pulled your attention away from the princess and on top of the stairs was Jace, he had grown taller and more lean. His curls accentuating his handsome face. His jawline had gotten sharp and lips more full and plump. His dark lashes made his honey brown eyes stand out more, and you had to keep your mouth from falling open. Your eyes met his as he descended the stairs to walk over to you.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he stopped in front of you, grabbed your right hand and kissed it softly before speaking. “Princess, welcome to Dragon Stone. It is good to finally see you again.” His voice had become lower and oh so smooth. You couldn’t help the big smile on your face as butterflies filled your chest. “It is good to see you again as well Jace, you… have grown into a man these past few years.” You smiled at him, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth to be betrothed to him.

“And you into a woman, you look beautiful.” He commented. He greeted your grandmother as well and were led into a different hall to be served supper. Which was much needed after your long day of travelling. After you arrived on shore of Dragon Stone you were shattered but seeing Jace and hearing his words and breathing his scent and feeling his touch breathed all life back into you. During supper you couldn’t help but let your attention shift from your bubbly, happy sister to your handsome and striking betrothed. The rest of the night was spent catching each other's glimpses and stares. It was only a week away from the actual wedding and yet you couldn’t even wait that long for him to become all yours.

Even when the night was over and your head finally hit your pillow in one of the bedchambers of Dragon Stone, you couldn’t sleep without Jace plaguing your mind. You felt yourself overcome with desire and want. But you didn’t know what to do about it. You thought back to when Jace kissed your hand, his soft lips on your skin setting it on fire. And when you at last fell asleep even your dreams contained his handsome face.

The next day was mostly spent away from each other as you spent most of it fitting and altering your dress and cloak for the wedding. His duties were the fitting of his clothes and deciding with his mother on the decorations and arrangements of tables and seats. Sadly at dinner you didn’t even get to see him.

As the sun was setting and you were allowed to retreat to your chambers, you were reading one of your favourite romance novels when you heard a knock on the door. “I told you Marina I would like to be left alone for the evening.” You spoke but to your surprise your favourite prince spoke on the other side of the door instead. “I am sorry Princess, it is me, Jacaerys.” The second the words left his mouth you left the window seat and your book and opened the door. “Jace, I’m sorry I thought you were my handmaiden. She was insisting on trying on hairstyles as well today but I was too tired.” You smiled awkwardly at him, your gaze leaving him to check the halls behind him. “Don’t worry no one knows I’m here, but are you too tired for me as well Princess, or might I speak with you for a moment.” He uttered.

“Of course not, come in.” You smiled as you opened the door for him further to step inside. He slid past you and you two took a seat together on one of the settee’s in your chamber. Conversation was always so easy with him, you two exchanged stories and experiences from the years you had been apart and the hours flew by. After you finished yet another story of how Baela almost fell off of Moondancer a couple of weeks ago your conversation grew quiet and you noticed Jace staring at your lips, almost shamelessly looking at your cleavage as well. When he noticed that you caught him staring he softly spoke, “It is quite late, I should return to my own chambers before they come looking for me.”

“Of course, time flew by, didn't it.” You laughed and led him to the door. “Indeed.” He said but turned to you in the opened door. “Might I give you a small kiss goodnight?” He whispered. He caught you by surprise but could never deny him. You couldn’t even speak and so nodded instead. He took a step closer and softly kissed your cheek and murmured a goodnight. You smiled at him as he turned to go to his own chambers. When you closed the door the smile on your face grew even bigger. That night you found yourself once again thinking of him. And you wondered if he too thought of you.

And boy did he. As soon as Jacaerys closed the door behind him he felt his hardened cock press against his trousers. How pathetic he thought, only a small kiss on your cheek and he wanted to rip off your clothes and show you how good of a husband he would be to you. He wasted no time in getting his own clothes off and quickly laid on his bed, covering most of his naked body with his sheets in case someone entered his chambers while he relieved himself.

He pulled the sheets off him just a bit so his cock sprang free, he eagerly wrapped a hand on his hard on and thoughts of you immediately plagued his mind. Precum leaking out of the tip as he imagined it was your hands pleasuring him instead. He imagined what your breasts looked like, imagined licking them, sucking them, and even slightly biting them but not as much to hurt you of course. He stroked his cock faster and harder the deeper his mind went into the dirty pits of desire. As he was nearing his release he thought of your wet, warm, tight cunt enveloping his cock, which did it for him. He cussed and repeated your name as he came all over his hand and sheets, some even landed over his toned abs. Gods the things you did to him, and you had no idea.

Talking to you in your bedchamber at night became a regular occurrence and unbeknownst to you, Jace relieving himself after too. Only two days were left before the big wedding and every night you and Jace became as close as ever again, and the innocent goodnight kiss became bolder and less innocent. Last night it went from a soft peck on the lips to fully kissing him, but he quickly stopped himself before he went too far. Yet another day had passed and as the sun had set yet again, the familiar knocks on the door could be heard. You opened the door and Jace was this time dressed in a thin cotton undershirt and black pants. He looked so good.

“Good evening princess.” He smiled at you. “Good evening Jace.” You smiled in return and opened the door wider for him so he could step inside as usual. “Actually, if you’ll follow me. I want to show you something.” He told you with a bit of a grin on his face. “Oh? Where might that be?” You asked intrigued. “Just follow me.” And so you did. He took tiny hallways and what looked to be secret passages to outside. On the beaches of Dragon Stone. For a while you followed him along the shore, until you saw some lights in what looked to be some sort of shallow cave underneath the big rocks and boulders that held the castle. He led you inside and there was wine and a fire with blankets around that welcomed you.

“Oh Jace, what is all of this?” You softly gasped, no one had ever done you such a kindness. Especially because one of the nights you talked, you said you wished to know what it was like to see more of Dragon Stone outside the castle walls. “It’s for you, our little place to share our good conversations.” He said as he led you to sit beside him on the blankets and furs near the fire. “Well it was my little hideout when I first came to Dragon Stone after we left court in Kings Landing. But I want to share it with my future wife.” He explained. “Jace this is amazing, thank you for sharing this with me.” He looked at you longingly and sat closer to you.

You couldn’t help but get lost in his honey brown eyes. His hand then laid on your cheek and pulled you closer to him. Your lips finally met again and this time, Jace grew bolder. His other hand laid on your waist and you put your hands on his cheek and in his curls instead, craving more yourself. He softly let his tongue enter your mouth and grazed your tongue. You couldn’t help but softly whimper at this new sensation and Jace sighed against your lips. Your skin heated up at his touch and you let your tongue explore his mouth instead this time. The kiss got more and more heated until, he stopped.

“What- did I… do something wrong Jace?” You asked him, afraid that you went too far and a little hurt because he pulled away. “No you actually did amazingly well, it’s just…” He seemed to look at the ground then back to you and to the ground again. “You can tell me, please.” You begged. “I don’t know if we should continue, if we do I might not be able to control…my desires for you. I would never want to take your maidenhood away before we are married.” He explained, his cheeks flushed and lips still red and plump from your make out session. “Oh, well, does it really matter if we…give into our desires two days early? You are to be my husband anyway. And I… just really want to continue. You make me feel so good, I want to continue feeling this good and maybe even better.”

“We really shouldn’t, I could never dishonour you like that.” He said but he seemed to hesitate, you could see the fight between honour and desire in his eyes. “However, we could…make each other feel good in other ways, in ways that would keep your maidenhood intact.” He mumbled softly. “Please, show me how.” You pleaded, you wanted so badly for him to touch you, anything that would make that exciting feeling come back. Jacaerys felt his pants tighten at your words. To hear you basically pleading for his touch, set something on fire for him, something he never felt before. He wasted no time pulling you back into him, his lips moving feverishly against yours. His hand wandering experimentally over your thigh, which made you shudder at the touch.

“Do you want me to make you feel really good?” Jace whispered against your lips in between kisses. “Yes, please. I’ll do anything.” He moved his hand down your leg and raised the skirt of your nightgown. Even his light touch on your leg made you want to moan his name, you wondered what he was up to. He laid you down and helped you raise the skirt up to your hips. Since you were in your nightgown, you wore nothing underneath. This certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Jace as he was already lightly running his fingers over your wet folds making you moan his name, begging for more. Even though you didn’t know exactly what you were begging for, Jace seemed to. For he let two of his fingers run circles over your clit while kissing and sucking at your neck.

“Jace- Please, it feels so good, please I need more.” You almost cried, these new sensations and touches you never felt before made you want to stay in that cave forever so you would never have to return. He sped up his fingers and licked at your neck, moving his mouth a bit further down to lick and kiss your cleavage. Then he removed his fingers and moved his body further down so his head was positioned between your legs. “I promise you this will feel even better my beautiful princess.” He smiled, before delving in between your thighs. He immediately started licking and sucking your folds and clit, and you knew that something was about to burst soon, you felt something building up and didn’t want it to stop. You moaned and moaned his name, as if he was a god himself. He lapped faster at your clit and had to hold your legs down and open for better access. “I- I don’t- something is about to-” You cut yourself off as you arched your back and gripped Jace’s curls with a loud moan. Your entire body felt ecstatic and an overwhelming pleasure took hold of you.

After making sure you fully finished, Jace raised his head and kissed up your thighs. “What just happened- I never felt such pleasure in my life.” You almost laughed, you couldn’t believe he just made you feel that amazing. “That’s called coming, princess.” He told you with a smirk. “I want you to feel that amazing, please I want to pleasure you like that.” You sighed still in the clouds from your high. “You don’t have to, it was already amazing to make you feel such pleasure. But if you…really want to, I’ll teach you how.” You sat back up and cupped his face as you kissed him.

“Yes I really want to, please teach me.” You said against his lips. He took your hand off his cheek and placed it on his clothed hard cock. “This is where you touch me to make me feel good.” He explained to you. You started massaging his hard on experimentally, to see what made him moan. He groaned at the feeling, he wanted this the moment he laid eyes on you when you had arrived. “Yes- fuck, that’s good.” He moaned now leaning back against the hard rock wall of the cave.

You decided that you wanted to see what was underneath and removed his pants and undergarments from his legs, you pulled it down with his help so it was bunched up at his ankles. You grabbed his hard member and started stroking it with Jace guiding you with his whimpers and moans. “Fuck- if… if you want, you can- oh fuck right there- you can put your mouth on me as well.” He moaned, he could barely get the words out because of your touch. Precum started leaking out and coated your hand as well as his cock, lubing him up. You had the urge to lick the beads drooling out of his tip.

Just as a bead came out you dipped down and licked it up with your tongue, this made Jace look down and moan at the sight. He had never seen such a beautiful and lustful picture before him. The princess of his dreams licking his tip. Wanting to go further you took him in your mouth and used your tongue to see how he would react and he did quite. Jace whimpered your name and grabbed the blanket underneath him. “Fuck yes, thats a good fucking girl sucking me like that. You fucking love this cock don’t you.” He groaned through gritted teeth. You could feel the arousal build again at his words, never had he spoken so dirty to you, and you loved it.

Taking the encouragement you started to actually suck his cock, making his whimpers and moans grow louder. “Just like that- yes- fuck I’m going to fill your pretty mouth with my seed- fuck-” This time you moaned at his words and swirled your tongue around his tip you could feel his cock become harder and with a final couple of curses and moans of your name he came in your mouth. You made no attempt to pull off, instead swallowed his seed down like a whore. When he came down from his high he panted and pulled you in his arms.

“I hope I wasn’t offending you… it just felt so amazing.” He panted, putting his forehead against yours. “Not even a bit, I actually loved the way you talked to me, it felt so dirty but so good. I hope we will do this often as husband and wife.” You smiled and bit your lip slightly at the thought of getting to do this as many times as you wanted in two days. “Trust me we will.” He assured you.

#house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x fem reader #jacaerys velaryon x fem reader smut #jacaerys x fem reader smut #jacaerys x reader smut #hotd smut #hotd imagine

671 notes · View notes

0silver0dreams0 · 6 months ago

Text

"Whispers of Devotion"

Pt. III

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader

Summarized: Gradually, as time passes, the girl she once was begins to transform into a woman. Those around her take notice, and the actions of those in her life start to bear consequences. As tensions rise, rivalries deepen, and complex feelings begin to intertwine.

Warning: hatred, love macking, mutual masturbation, clues of incest, forbidden love and stalking.

<< Pt. 2 — masterlist — Pt. 4 >>

When will they finally leave you alone? Letter after letter after letter. They just don’t understand—you don’t want them anymore. Jacaerys, Rhaenyra, Daemon, even that insufferable boy Lucerys. You burned their letters in the fireplace without hesitation. You don’t care about them; you only wish for their suffering and demise, imagining it vividly before see them with your eyes. But you force yourself to set those thoughts aside. They are a distraction, and distractions displease your mother. Every minute of your day is accounted for, each task meticulously planned to maintain the illusion of perfection. If you falter—if you make a single misstep—Alicent will not forgive you. She will punish you, lock you in your chambers for hours, sometimes days, leaving you isolated with nothing but your thoughts.

You live to please her. To earn her approval. To become the daughter she expects you to be.

8:00 - Etiquette lessons 9:00 - Dance lessons 10:00 - Bath 11:00 - History lessons 12:00 - Go to the Great Sept with Alicent 13:00 - Have tea with Alicent 14:00 - Valyrian lessons 15:00 - Lunch with your family 16:00 - Watch Aemond train and encourage him 17:00 - Talk to Alicent about everything that happened during the day 18:00 - Sneak into the kitchen to eat something 19:00 - Pray Alicent doesn’t notice you ate something 20:00 - Read 21:00 - Prepare for bed 22:00 - Sleep

It’s almost noon, which means it’s time to accompany Alicent to the Great Sept. Yet, as the clock ticks closer to the hour, temptation claws at you. There’s a small gap in your schedule, just enough time for a stolen moment. You glance around to ensure no one is watching before slipping away to the gardens.

He’s waiting for you, leaning casually against a stone column, his armour glinting faintly in the sunlight, he was there, with his brown eyes, his blonde hair, Ser Alaric. The sight of him brings a rush of warmth to your chest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says softly, though the smile on his face betrays his words. “I could say the same to you,” you tease, stepping closer. “But I’m glad you are.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers against yours—a touch so fleeting it almost feels like a dream. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess. If your brother finds out…”

You tense at the mention of Aemond. He must never know about this, about you and Alaric. Aemond’s protectiveness would turn violent in an instant, and you dread to think what he might do.

“He won’t find out,” you assure him, though your voice is quieter than you intended. “I won’t let him.” Alaric studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nods. “Just be careful. For both our sakes.”

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps makes you both freeze. Your heart leaps into your throat as you whip around to see Aemond standing at the edge of the garden, his sharp gaze fixed on you.

“(your name),” he calls out, his tone neutral but his eye narrowing slightly. “What are you doing here?” You force a smile, stepping away from Alaric as casually as you can. “I had a bit of free time before prayer. I thought I’d take a walk.”

“And you, Ser Alaric?” Aemond’s voice hardens as he shifts his attention to the knight. “I was ensuring the Princess’s safety,” Alaric replies smoothly, bowing his head. Aemond’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before turning back to you. “Mother is waiting. You should go.”

You nod quickly, glancing at Alaric one last time before following Aemond.

When you arrive at the Sept, Alicent is already there, her gaze darkening the moment it lands on you.

"You’re late," she says, her tone sharp and clipped. “I apologize, Mother. I—” “I’ve no interest in your excuses.” She steps closer, her expression cold and unyielding. “You’ve been acting irresponsibly of late—sneaking off like a petulant child. I won’t allow it any longer.” Her voice is calm but cuts through you with the precision of a blade.

“After prayers, you will return to your chambers,” she continues, each word deliberate. “And you will remain there until I decide otherwise. Perhaps solitude will instil the discipline you so clearly lack.”

You open your mouth to object, but her piercing glare stops you mid-breath. Any protest dies on your lips.

The prayers are long and stifling, each moment stretching painfully under the weight of her disapproval. When they finally conclude, Alicent herself escorts you back to your chambers, her grip firm as though she fears you might slip away.

The heavy door shuts behind you with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.

Left alone, you search your bed, hoping the books you’d hidden earlier might still be there. They aren’t. In fact, none of your hidden belongings remain. Realisation dawns—she must have discovered them. That’s why she was so angry.

With no distractions to occupy your mind, you lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe sleep will offer a reprieve. But the hours drag on, the silence pressing against you like an iron weight. Just as the last light of day fades, a soft knock breaks the stillness, startling you.

“Aemond?” you call out hesitantly.

The door creaks open, and your brother steps inside, a tray of food in hand and a book tucked under his arm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, though relief rushes through you.

“And leave you to starve?” he replies simply. He sets the tray down on your desk before sitting beside you on the bed. “Mother can be harsh, but she forgets—you're human, not an extension of her will.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking a tentative bite of the bread he brought. “But if she finds out, she’ll punish me even more.”

“I’ll speak with Father,” he says, his voice calm but resolute. “Perhaps he’ll see that Mother has gone too far.”

Your fingers graze the book he hands you, and for the first time in hours, a faint smile graces your lips. “You’re always looking out for me,” you say softly.

Aemond’s gaze lingers, his voice low but steady. “They don’t see you for who you are. To Mother, you’re a pawn; to them, a symbol. But I see you.”

Your breath hitches, his words stirring something deep within you. Before you can reply, he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“I know how she treats you,” he continues, his tone measured but intense. “Always demanding, always expecting. But you don’t have to bear it alone. I’ll always be here.”

“Aemond…” you begin, unsure of what to say, but he interrupts with a faint smile. “Rest. If she troubles you again tomorrow, come to me—or Father. I’ll handle it.”

Without waiting for a response, he rises, his movements deliberate. At the door, he pauses, glancing back with a rare softness in his eyes.

“Remember, I’m always here.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re left with a strange mixture of comfort and unease. Aemond’s presence was your refuge, but his intensity… it left a lingering weight in the air.

It was already dark when you decided to take a bath. Perhaps it would help ease the tension gripping your body. Surely Mother wouldn’t mind—not if it was just a few minutes to the bathing chambers nearby.

The corridor was silent as you slipped out, your footsteps a soft echo in the stillness. You moved swiftly, heart racing with the thrill of disobedience. Reaching the bathing chamber, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, pushing the heavy door shut behind you.

But before it could close, a hand shot out, stopping it. Panic flared as another arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, and a hand covered your mouth before you could scream. Your heart pounded, every nerve on edge, until the faint scent of leather and cedarwood registered.

“Relax,” came a low, familiar voice, its velvety tone tinged with amusement. “It’s just me.” You pull his hand away and whirl around, your expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “You scared me half to death!” you whisper fiercely, mindful of the echoing corridors outside.—”

“Forgive me, my lady. I couldn’t resist.”

“This isn’t funny,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “If Mother knew you were here—”

“She’d lock you away again?” he finished, his smile fading as his brown eyes softened. “I know. That’s why I had to see you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you trapped in that room, alone, while she wields her control over you.”

His words sent a rebellious spark through you, a flicker of validation in the face of your mother’s suffocating expectations. But just as quickly, the reality of your situation weighed it down. “Alaric, you shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, glancing nervously at the door. “If Aemond finds out…”

At the mention of your brother, Alaric’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “Aemond won’t find out. And even if he did, I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “He’d kill you if he thought—”

“That I cared for you?” Alaric said quietly, his gaze piercing.

Your breath caught, and you looked away, heat rising to your cheeks. “You shouldn’t care for me,” you muttered. “It’s not safe—for either of us.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, his touch gentle but insistent. “I don’t care about the risk, (your name). I’d rather face Aemond’s sword and your mother’s wrath than stay away from you.”

The weight of his words struck you, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you. Grabbing his arm, you pull him back, your heart pounding. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t hesitate. His hands find your waist as you lean in, and his lips meet yours in a kiss that drowns out every rule, every fear, and every consequence.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was desperation and lust, a silent scream against the forces trying to pull you apart. For a fleeting moment, the world dissolved. No Mother. No Aemond. No suffocating expectations. Just Alaric and the reckless hope he represented.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came fast, and your cheeks burned. Alaric’s eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw.

“I…” you started, but your words faltered.

His lips curved into a faint smile, tender yet resolute. “Say the word, and I’ll stay. No matter what.”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. Not tonight. But… tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” he echoed, one brow lifting in curiosity.

“Here,” you said firmly. “The same time, the same place. I’ll find a way.”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing the risk against the determination in your eyes. Then, he nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

With a final lingering kiss to your forehead, he stepped back toward the window. “Don't let her break you. Be careful, (your name).”

“You too,” you whispered, watching him slip into the night, his silhouette vanishing into the shadows.

As the quiet of the chamber settled around you, your fingers brushed your lips, the memory of his kiss still vivid. The enormity of what had happened began to sink in, but instead of fear, a strange exhilaration coursed through you.

The following day dawns with an air of tension you can’t quite shake. As you dress for your morning lessons, the memory of last night lingers like a forbidden dream. You replay every word, every touch, every moment with Alaric, but reality presses in too soon.

When you enter the dining hall for breakfast, Alicent’s gaze immediately locks onto you. Her expression is stiff, and her tone, when she speaks, carries a sharp edge.

“Sit,” she says curtly, her eyes flicking toward the chair opposite her.

You do as instructed, lowering yourself into the seat. Aemond is already there, silent but watchful as always, and Viserys occupies his usual place at the head of the table. His expression, however, is uncharacteristically lively this morning, his gaze softening when it lands on you.

“Good morning, my dear,” Viserys says warmly, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Good morning, Father,” you reply, a cautious smile tugging at your lips.

He waves a hand dismissively toward the plate before you. “Eat well. And don’t worry about that ridiculous punishment. You’re free to go about your day as you please.”

You blink in surprise, your fork pausing mid-air. Alicent stiffens visibly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Viserys—” she begins, her voice tightly controlled, but he raises a hand to silence her.

“She’s done nothing to warrant being locked away, Alicent,” he says firmly, though his tone remains even. “Our daughter is a credit to this family. She carries herself with grace and dignity, and I won’t have her treated like some wayward child.”

Alicent’s hands clench in her lap, her composure barely holding. “It’s not about grace or dignity. It’s about discipline. She’s been sneaking off—”

“And you dealt with it, as you always do,” Viserys interrupts, his tone softening but leaving no room for argument. “But she’s learned her lesson, hasn’t she?” He glances at you with a fatherly smile.

“Yes, Father,” you reply quietly, your gaze lowering to avoid Alicent’s piercing stare.

“Good, then it’s settled.” Viserys returns to his meal, clearly considering the matter closed.

The tension at the table is palpable as Alicent pointedly cuts her food, the sound of her knife scraping against the plate unnervingly loud. Aemond exchanges a glance with you, a subtle flicker of support in his eye, but says nothing.

After breakfast, Alicent corners you just outside the hall, her voice low and sharp.

“Your father may see you as flawless, but perfection comes with a cost,” she hisses, her gaze cold. “You will not jeopardise what we’ve worked so hard to build with your recklessness.”

You swallow hard, nodding quickly. “Yes, Mother.”

Her glare intensifies, her tone biting. “You are the model of what a princess should be, and you will act accordingly. The court looks to you for inspiration, and I will not have them see weakness. Your lessons will continue, every one of them, and I will ensure your Septa does not coddle you.”

“Yes, Mother,” you reply, your voice steady but soft.

She studies you for a moment longer before sweeping away, her skirts rustling angrily behind her. The encounter leaves you standing tall, not because of fear, but because you know the weight of perfection that has been placed upon you—a weight you have always borne with grace.

The day stretches on, a never-ending cycle of lessons and expectations. Each moment is meticulously scheduled, a testament to your role as the perfect princess. Etiquette lessons are followed by hours spent discussing history, with each lecture becoming more and more of a blur. Valyrian is mastered with grace, the elegant words flowing from your lips as if they were second nature. The pressure to be flawless weighs heavily on you, but you bear it with an air of calm, never allowing it to show.

Throughout it all, Alicent remains a constant presence. She watches your every move, her sharp gaze never leaving you. You know she is pleased with your progress, but there is always a lingering sense of expectation in the air, as if the tiniest misstep would undo everything.

Even as you move from one task to another, the thought of Alaric flickers at the edges of your mind. The stolen kiss, the promise made—these moments linger in your thoughts like a secret thread woven through the fabric of your day. You push the thoughts aside, knowing you must focus on your duties. There is no room for distractions, not when you must remain perfect in every way.

Lunch comes and goes, a quiet affair with your family. You speak with your mother and Aegon, though your words are carefully measured. They don’t know—none of them do—but you catch Aegon’s eyes occasionally, a silent understanding passing between you. Afterward, you attend more lessons, this time under your mother’s watchful eye. Her gaze is always on you, sharp and piercing, but there’s also an unspoken encouragement there. She expects greatness, and you deliver it.

As the afternoon wanes, you move to your final task of the day: another meeting with Alicent. She inspects your progress with a critical eye, praising the things you’ve done well and reminding you of the things that still need perfecting. Her voice is firm, but there’s a gentleness there, too, the kind that only a mother can convey.

The hours pass like this, one after another, each duty completed to the highest standard. Finally, the evening arrives, and with it, the promise of a brief respite. Dinner with the family is a quiet affair, the room filled with the soft clinking of utensils and murmured conversation. You eat in silence, your mind elsewhere.

Afterward, you retire to your chambers. You change into your nightgown, the fabric cool against your skin. You look in the mirror for a moment, seeing the poised princess staring back at you. No mistakes. No cracks in the façade. Everything has been handled with perfect care.

You make your way to the bath chambers, the solitude of the corridors a small comfort. As you approach the door, you hear a voice from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alicent’s voice is sharp, and you freeze mid-step.

Turning slowly, you face her, the tension building in the air. “I’m going to take a bath, Mother,” you answer calmly, offering her a small, composed smile.

Alicent looks you over, her gaze lingering on your attire. “In that? Why are you dressed like that? You know it’s improper to go without the servants’ help.” Her tone is questioning, but not unkind.

“I didn’t want to trouble them, Mother,” you reply smoothly. “I thought I would go on my own this time, just to... clear my thoughts.”

Alicent studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Very well,” she says, her voice softening slightly. “But you must remember to call for help if you need it. Don’t forget your place, (your name).”

You nod quickly. “Of course, Mother. I won’t be long.”

She gives you one last scrutinising look before nodding, satisfied for the moment. “See that you don’t. You’ve done well today, but there’s always more to be done. I’ll be watching.”

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet of the corridor. You exhale slowly, the tension in your body relaxing. Without another word, you slip into the bath chambers, and then you hear a sound outside the window. It’s him.

You approach the window, heart racing, and peek through the gap in the curtains. Alaric stands there, his presence unmistakable even in the dim light. His gaze meets yours, and the weight of the promise you made to each other the night before hangs in the air. The excitement builds in you as you move away from the window, quickly securing the door.

Moments later, the door creaks open just enough to reveal Alaric slipping inside, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you. His gaze lingers on your nightgown, the soft fabric clinging to your form in the dim light. You feel his eyes on you, heat rising in your chest. Neither of you speaks immediately—words are unnecessary now. The anticipation crackles between you, and it’s clear that tonight will be different.

He steps closer, the air thick with tension, and the space between you is filled with a promise of more. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding with the realization of everything you’re about to risk. But you don't care, and you know that neither does he. Without a word, you begin to unlace the ties of your nightgown, letting it fall to the floor at your feet, leaving yourself exposed completely to him. He watches you, his gaze intense, and then, without hesitation, he closes the distance between you. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s both hungry and desperate, a mix of desire and an unspoken understanding of the consequences. The kiss deepens, pulling you both into the moment, where nothing else matters but the heat between you, a connection neither of you can deny.

“Wait, I don’t want to be impure, even if I love you too much, and I need you so much that even words can’t describe it,” you say, voice trembling with a mix of desire and guilt. “I don’t want to disappoint my family by being impure before the wedding.”

Alaric watches you, his eyes dark with an intensity that both comforts and unsettles you. Even though you know he’s hungry, his gaze softens with concern, a frown tugging at his features. “Then don’t do it,” he says, his voice low and steady, almost like a promise. “We can always do other things.”

His words are a balm to your anxious heart, yet there’s something deeper in his tone, an unspoken suggestion that he’s willing to go to great lengths to keep you safe, to protect you—his obsession so deeply rooted in his care for you, and yet, there's a hint of something darker behind his gaze.

You hesitate, your hands shaking slightly as you look away, unsure if his care for you is truly all it seems. "But what if... what if I'm not enough for you?"

Alaric steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he lifts your chin gently with one hand. "You are more than enough," he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. "And no matter what happens, I'll make sure you're never alone."

His lips brush your forehead in a tender gesture, but the warmth doesn't quite reach your heart. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken promise of his love—and perhaps something more—pressing on you.

"You don't need to worry," he adds, his words both comforting and possessive. "I'll take care of everything. You just need to trust me."

And before you can say anything, he runs his hand down your body, touching your tits, your belly, all the way down to your private parts. You feel his fingers on your clitoris, circling, you want to moan, but before you do, his other hand goes to your mouth. As his head moves down your neck, kissing and sucking, but not leaving any marks. You were feeling so good, you don't know what he is doing down there and then he move away his hand of your mouth, and grabs yours, and guide to his dick and star to make moves.

"Just let me make you feel good too, all right, my lady?" Alaric’s voice is soft yet commanding, a tone that leaves no room for doubt.

You nod silently, your mind hazy and overwhelmed. You don’t fully understand what you’re doing; all you know is that you feel so good, so utterly consumed by the moment, that everything else fades into the background.

You barely notice what he’s doing with your hand or how quickly he’s guiding it. His touch is deliberate, firm, yet somehow gentle enough to keep you entranced.

You don’t have any idea what’s happening; the world around you blurs into pleasure and nothingness. All you know is the sensation—the warmth spreading through you, the dizzying rush of emotions—and the way he looks at you, as if you’re the only thing that matters in his entire world.

Pt. 4 >>

Author’s note: My apologies for the delay, I’ve had a busy few months, but I’m here now, and I hope to release part 4 very soon. Tomorrow, I’ll be posting some headcanons that I hope you’ll enjoy.

Taglist: @ursinaw @dakota-rain666 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @pookiedragonfire @jjggdfvvy @maryldrsstuff @1soultaken @ceramic-raven @eissaaaa @moodyblueberrytree @xadaboo @labryel @zoeyburton @hopingtoclearmedschool

328 notes · View notes

romanteacism · 7 months ago

Text

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Scarlet Heart

Synopsis: Ser Aemond was consumed with guilt after his argument with his princess, and it only furthered as she was taken by sickness. Warnings: None (yet), Concerned Aemond, Princess and Aemond's (not so) Secret Relationship, Revelations PREVIOUS PART A/N: I think it's safe to say we're like 2/3's done with the story :,( ... unless

Aemond was ill at ease the entire night. Guilt was consuming him as he made the girl he loved cry. Until the hour of the ghost, Aemond listened to her as she stifled her quiet sobs and her sniffling until she had eventually cried herself to sleep all because of him. He did not mean anything he had said. It was beneath him to insinuate that she wanted the attention of any of the lords when she had proven to him who exactly she wanted. You want him. And Aemond could only pray to each god that his transgression would not detter your want and love for him.

When the first light shone through the gloomy and overcast northern wastelands, Aemond waited impatiently for you to wake so he could offer his apologies. He had no wish to retrace old patterns of the two of you ignoring the other as a somewhat punishment. Aemond could no longer bear your silence and indifference as he had fully accustomed himself to you clinging to his side.

As another hour passed, Aemond did not hear you wake. He looked out the window, the sun halfway to its peak, the usual time when you would wake and lovingly wake your pet cats as well. Anxiousness was starting to fill him. What if you truly froze in your bed? The coldness he had shown you and the coldness of the north gnawing away at your warmth. Aemond felt his hand grow cold at the thought. He could not bear it any longer as he forced his way into your chambers, shivering at how cold it was inside than outside.

Aemond’s eye frantically sought out the feathered bed, but the covers were gone, and you were not lying upon it. He then turned to the sitting area and saw you lying on the cold ground, huddled by the hearth whose embers had died. Fur upon fur atop your body to find warmth, and your two pets nuzzled into your chest as your teeth chattered whilst asleep. “Oh… my heart,” Aemond said delicately as he kneeled before you. Taking your cold hands upon his cold ones as a futile hope to warm them.

You said not a word; you did not even open your eyes. Aemond sighed and moved to caress your cheek, but he felt the scorching heat of your skin. He frowned and moved his hands upon your forehead and realized you had run a fever. “Oh gods,” He said in dread and hurriedly bundled you into his arms and ran you to the maester. Your cats were still resting atop your body, as well as the fur you had used to cover yourself.

He ran through the halls of the unknown keep, trying to find directions, but it seemed that none were awake, too tired by last night’s festivities. Luckily, as he passed through the various doors, he passed the King, who had just exited his chambers. “Good morrow, Ser Ae—“

“My king, where is the maester’s tower?” The knight abruptly interrupted the highest ruler of the land as he feared for your state. The king frowned, not noticing you in the arms of your knight as he took what Ser Aemond carried was a bundle of fur coats, finding the tone of urgency in your usually stoic knight odd. “The princess has run a fever during the night— she needs a maester. She is unresponsive— she usually wakes with just the slightest sound, but she has not peeled her eyes open!” The knight explained and watched as the confusion on the King’s face turned to concern as he now realized you were unconscious in your knight’s arms.

Your father placed his warm hand atop your forehead and felt the scorching heat of your skin; the franticness of your knight now understood and was seeping into your father. “Return her to her chambers; I shall get the maesters myself.” The king said, and Aemond wasted no time doing what your father said. He ran to your chambers once more, placing you atop the feathered bend, and took off his cloak and placed it atop your frame in an effort to warm you further. Aemond then turned to died out fire of the hearth and quickly remade one.

He could still hear your teeth chattering through your unconscious state, and Aemond looked upon the large room, which would take a while to warm. He had naught a choice but to pull with all his might the solid mahogany bed closer to the hearth. Not even the sound of the ruckus he made had woken you, who would wake by just the distant sound of your knight’s armor clinking as he shifted his weight during the night.

Aemond panted as he directly placed your bed across the hearth; the chambers were now a mess, but he had no care as he was only focused on your recovery. Aemond leaned closer to you; every part of your body was bundled in fur and his cloak except your face, which was flushed and scarlet. He leaned closer to make certain you were still breathing. You did, but there were wheezes, and it would seem you had trouble in doing so.

Aemond abruptly stood straighter as he heard your father’s voice approaching. The door opened, and the king, along with your brother and a flock of maesters, came. Aemond stood by the side, watching as you were inspected by each maester. Quiet murmurings enveloped the room as he, your father, and your brother waited on bated breath.

“Had she mentioned anything about feeling unwell?” The prince asked as he watched the maesters remove the bundle of fur that covered you to inspect you further. Your pets were gently placed on the ground, and Sapphira quickly marched her way to the foot of Ser Aemond. The men glancing towards the feline that rested her head atop the boot of your knight. “She said she felt an itch on her throat on our way here, but besides that, none, my prince.” Ser Aemond replied.

“Has the princess had scarlet fever when she was a child?” The maester questioned. And Aemond expectedly turned to the members of your family. “Yes, twice. Once, when she was a babe and then again when she was seven.” The king answered, dipping down to take hold of Theodore, who peered upon him. Taking your beloved pet into his hold to somewhat comfort your father.

The maester hummed as he returned to his observation, but Aemond sensed alarm in your brother. “Father… it cannot be scarlet fever again, can it? The last time she…” Your brother trailed, unable to speak of what occurred. But Aemond was curious. How grave was this situation? “The last time?” Aemond asked, a risk as he spoke out of turn—a risk as he let his concern shine through and be known.

Your brother turned to him, apprehensive to utter the words. “The last time… none of us thought she would make it. Her pulse was so faint that we had to place a maester by her side at all hours just to check her pulse constantly. Mother was already planning the funeral… had her dress readied and all.” The king quickly called upon the attention of your brother, chastising him as he recalled such bleak memories.

By gods! Aemond was harboring dislike for your mother these past moons, but at your brother’s words— how the queen was wholly ready to accept your demise and planned the ordeal before it actually… Aemond’s mind was made. He loathed your mother. How cruel can one be?

“Do not think a such— your sister is fine… it’s not scarlet fever… it’s just because of the weather! Isn’t that right, maester?” Your father said, trying to convince himself that nothing dire befell his most precious daughter. But as the maesters turned to your father, all had a solemn look upon their face. “I’m afraid it’s scarlet fever again, my king. Thrice in one lifetime… I must be honest, your Majesty; none of us has come across this predicament before.”

Aemond paled at the words, turning to your father and brother, who paled as well. “What must we do, maester?” Aemond questioned; your father and brother were too shocked to speak. “We already gave her the necessary elixir of herbs for the fever. Let us wait and hope it will take. If not… we must let out her blood,” The maester explained.

“Write to your br— cousin, tell him what has happened. Perhaps they have developed a new cure for scarlet fever.” The king stuttered as he turned to his son. “Yes, father.” The prince nodded and ran out of the room to write to his half-brother that their sister was once again plagued. The princess is one of the main reasons why her eldest brother became a maester, to finally find a lasting cure for her ailments.

“We must isolate the princess. There are children in the keep who can easily be infected.” The maester warned, and the king nodded mindlessly, with Aemond standing idly by the side as he could not approach you without them suspecting anything. “Isolate? Leave my daughter alone?” The king then asked. “One of us could check upon the princess every hour, but we cannot be in her presence constantly at the risk of the fever spreading.” Aemond’s fist clenched at the maester’s words. Is that their solution? To leave you alone? To have you bear your ailment in solitary?

“I can stay with the princess, my king.” Aemond then spoke. There was no hesitancy in him; he could not bear to leave you alone. Never.

“Are you certain, Ser Aemond?” The king questioned, “I am, my king. It is still my duty to look over the princess.” He replied, but the maester voiced his reluctance, fearing that the knight would also be infected. Aemond did not care. He’d rather be by your side, in sickness and in health, as they say. “I will be fine. I have a rather great immune system; I rarely get sick.” He insisted.

“Very well then, if no one else shall watch over my daughter, it shall be you.” The king said, clapping the shoulder of the knight as his words held a slight to the maesters who were too cowardly to watch over the princess. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” The king said and Aemond only gave a nod.

He watched as the king placed Theodore by his daughter’s side, the princess still not opening her eyes even as the king placed a chaste kiss atop her head. “You can do this, my darling… you have fought it before, you shall do it again,” The king whispered softly at his daughter, who made no indication that she heard her father’s pleading words.

When your father and maesters left the room, Aemond was finally alone with you, just like how he preferred it. But even your presence he could not feel. Aemond sighed and carried a chair to the side of your bed. Sitting upon it, he took hold of Sapphira, who he placed by your side, huddling with her brother as both of your pets seemed to understand what had happened to you.

Aemond took your hand into his hand, still cold. He slowly placed it against his cheek, hoping his warmth would transfer to you, bearing the coldness as he could not help but feel guilty at your state. If he had not accused you of enjoying the lord’s company the other night— if he had not argued with you… you would have told him immediately that you felt poorly. That you would insist him to stand in his post inside your chambers when he could watch over you.

“Please, my heart, I’m so sorry. Do not punish me like this… yell at me, hit me, I’ll bear it all. Just… please…” Aemond pleaded as he tucked away a stray lock of your hair. It was strange for him to ask you of such. To plead with you to show him anything but kindness, but he’d prefer your rage rather than your silence.

For the rest of the day, Aemond stayed by his princess’ side. Taking turns in holding her cold hands, hoping it would warm her. He constantly checked her temperature and pulse, fearing the worst. Never had he felt so helpless. He could do nothing as your body was partly cold and partly hot, but the whole of it was scarlet.

Aemond shut his eye tightly as he heard a faint knock on your door, having to remove your hand on his cheek as you two could not be caught in such a state. “Your meal, Ser,” a servant uttered and placed a tray by a table near Aemond. He inspected what the servant had brought and narrowed his eyes. “Where is the princess’ meal?” He sharply questioned, but the servant only looked confused. “I—I thought the princess was unconscious and— and she would not be able to eat.” The servant stuttered as they were met with the harsh look on your sworn protector’s face.

“Just— just bring her custard tarts. She would wake soon; she would want her custard tarts.” Aemond gritted and watched as the servant scurried off. The knight filled with hope that your unconscious state would not last. When the knight was given a platter of custard tarts, he waited for the door to shut fully before focusing all of his attention on his princess again.

“Look, my heart, your favorite. Come now, wake up… please. You can eat it all… you don’t even have to share with me, please, my heart.” Aemond pleaded again, hoping that you would smell the scent of your favorite sweet and it would wake you. You were like a bloodhound when it came to your favorite desserts. You would just take a deep breath when in the halls of your home, and you could already guess what pastry they were making, exciting you for tea time.

Aemond sighed once more. Perhaps you were exhausted. That you desperately needed rest, that you would wake in a few hours if Aemond only stopped pestering and pleading for you to wake. Perhaps it was that. The knight convinced himself. So, he pushed away the tray of custard tarts and held your hand once more, letting you acquire rest.

As night came, Aemond abruptly sat up as he realized he had drifted off to sleep as he watched over you. His eyes were wide as he looked around the dark room, the fire dying once again. His hand was still holding yours, and he quickly moved his hold to feel your pulse. It was faint, but it was there. He hurriedly stood and remade the fire, cursing himself as he let himself drift off to sleep. He returned to his seat and leaned forward to feel your temperature; it seemed to lessen, making Aemond breathe out in relief. However, you still had not opened your eyes.

Aemond looked around the room. It was dark except of the light of the hearth. He reluctantly stood and lit the various candles and lamps. You hated the dark; your room was always lit in one form or the other. “I’m sorry I drifted off to sleep, my heart. But you’re fine, yes? You’re fever is lowering… come now, open your eyes. I think the cooks made your favorite supper… it’d be a waste if you did not have some,” Aemond murmured as he returned to your side. He somewhat felt pathetic. Speaking so softly to the wind. Aemond shook his head and readjusted the furs that kept you warm.

Aemond licked his lips as you still did not open your eyes. He and all of his siblings had scarlet fever before, but none of them grew unconscious because of it. The knight straightened his back as he heard a knock at the door, moving his hold from your hand to your pulse again.

“My prince,” Aemond stood and bowed his head. “Good evening, Ser Aemond… how is— how are you both fairing?” Your brother asked quietly as if fearing he would wake you. “The princess’ fever had lessened, but she still had not wakened,” Aemond answered, your brother moving to stand by the foot of your bed to inspect you. “You had not eaten, Ser.” The prince remarked as his eyes shifted to the table. “And… are those custard tarts?”

“I am not hungry, my prince, and yes… I had the servant bring them— I thought it could convince the princess to wake up,” Aemond admitted, a part of him thought he might be seen as ridiculous. The prince only let out a breath of a laugh. “I’ve tried that before, surrounded her with all her favorite desserts the last time she grew unconscious, hoping the scent of it would wake her.”

“Did it?” Aemond asked in hope. “No…” The prince admitted solemnly.

“My prince, I do not think it’s scarlet fever,” Aemond suddenly said. “Unconsciousness is not a symptom of scarlet fever— I should know, when I was three and ten, half of my house was infected, but none of them grew unconscious,” Aemond explained as he moved closer to you. He lifted the fur covering to reveal a part of your arm “And she has none of those red bumps,”

The prince frowned, wondering what led the maesters to conclude that it was once again scarlet fever. “But why would the maesters think it’d be scarlet fever?” The prince asked. “I do not know… perhaps they only saw her flushed face and felt her temperature and concluded that it was scarlet fever because, as you had said, she had it twice. It is easy to conclude that it could happen to her again.” Aemond observed.

“I shall write to our brother again,” The prince muttered and moved to leave the room, but before he could reach the door, it opened to reveal your eldest brother and your newly wedded cousin, Eliza. “I was already on my way to the north when I stumbled upon the messenger you sent— how is she?”

“Eliza, you shouldn’t be here,” the prince said and tried to nudge away his cousin. “How is she? She’ll be fine, yes? Oh gods! I knew we should have just held the ceremony in Father’s castle!” She exclaimed in guilt, resisting as your brother tried to push her out of the room. “She’ll be fine, Eliza. Now go, enjoy your honeymoon.” The prince sighed, but Eliza resisted, “I want hourly updates! I swear to the gods, if you keep me in the dark, I’ll bury you in the snow, cousin.�� Eliza threatened, a small, amused smile coming to the prince’s lips through these trying times. “Very well then, now go.”

When Lady Eliza had finally gone, your eldest brother finally spoke. “It’s not scarlet fever,” He remarked, placing a damp towel on your forehead, a measure that they seem to forget amidst the panic. “Thank gods,” the prince sighed. “Thank gods indeed, I do not think her heart can handle it— it’s already weaker than the others.” Your eldest brother muttered, glancing toward Ser Aemond whose concerned expression never faded.

Aemond licked his lips and avoided the gaze of your older brother. You had told him that your eldest brother came to know of understanding, and he could only hope he truly understood and did not utter a word of it.

“If not scarlet fever, what then?” The prince questioned, “Just a very high fever, which would explain her unconscious state— once her temperature lessens, I’m certain she would wake.” Your brother explained, and Aemond finally let out a breath of relief. “Where’s father?” Your elder brother asked your eldest brother. “Praying,” He answered, and the prince was quick to frown. “What?” He asked in disbelief. The king was not a devout man, he only kept up appearances in the sept for the sake of the crown, but to hear him pray not out of duty but of necessity was quite shocking.

“I shall find him and tell him what you had said,” The prince muttered. “Better find him fast, lest his knees freeze— they’re already stiff as it is,” Aemond chewed on his cheeks as your eldest brother somehow lightened the tenseness they had since the morning.

“So… you’re looking after my sister,” Your eldest brother said slowly, tense as it was his first conversation with the knight. “Yes, my pr— lo—“ Aemond once again stuttered as he did not know how to address your brother. “Lord,” He corrected, and Aemond nodded. “Well, I suppose it best that it is you who watches over her instead of the maesters who misdiagnosed her ailment.”

“My sister has always been a sickly child,” The lord remarked. “They believe it is because she came earlier than expected or because of the amount of wine the queen drank while she was pregnant,” he sighed as both men sat across each other. Your brother by your right, and Aemond by your left.

“Might I ask you something, my lord?” Your brother nodded, and Aemond took a moment to articulate his question properly. “It is just… I had noticed that the queen is not particularly fond of the princess,” Aemond said lowly. “You can say it plainly: she hates her.” Your eldest brother said heavily. “But why?” Aemond waited as your brother hummed. “How do I say this delicately… I’m certain my sister shared with you the true manner of our father’s and her mother’s marriage?” Aemond nodded.

“Well, father had little affection for the queen. There is some, but it is a minuscule amount. The only intimacy they shared was for the sake of procreation, and I suppose the queen thought she could make father fall in love with her, but the only thing father truly loves are his children… and when the queen gave birth to a girl, she saw my sister as competition.” Aemond frowned severely at your eldest brother’s words. “Father had always only wanted a daughter. So, when my sister was born, he no longer saw reason to be in the queen’s presence except for appearances and familial dinners.”

“I honestly do not know how she bears it— our brother had always tried to protect her from the Queen’s wrath, but even he could not sway their mother’s hatred for her.” The lord sighed and settled further into his seat, tired as he had journeyed through the cold just to reach his sister. “You could go and find rest, Ser Aemond. I can look over my sister,” The lord said as he tried to stifle a yawn, and Aemond was quick to shake his head.

“It is fine, my lord. I can watch over her. It is my duty, after all,” The lord hummed and did not have the energy to disagree with Ser Aemond. “Very well, I’ll just be in the other room. Summon me if my sister is in distress— such high fevers do come with the risk of convulsions,” The lord informed as he stood. “And if you could change the towel atop her forehead before the hour of the nightingale, it would be best…” The lord trailed, distracted as he looked upon his sister concerning Aemond. “Why? What is the matter?” He asked, alarmed.

“Nothing, I just noticed the furs… she looks like a baby bear,” Your brother breathed out a laugh, and Aemond felt a smirk inching to his lips. Your eldest brother seemed to have a gift for finding a light in dark situations. “Good night, Ser Aemond.” The lord said as he exited the door, leaving Aemond to be alone in your presence once more.

Aemond did not sleep that night. He spent the silent hours reading to you one of the books you had bought for the trip, changing the damp towel on your forehead, and brushing your pets' fur as you would always do before you went to sleep.

When morning approached, Aemond's hold on your hand never tired. He rechecked your temperature, which had subsided, but your skin was still warmer than usual. Earlier, you had stirred during your sleep, your small action bringing hope and fear to Aemond because he thought it might be the convulsions your brother had warned him about, but at least you were showing signs of consciousness.

When the sun rose and bathed your chambers in its golden hue, Aemond again brought your hand to his cheek. “Please, my heart, open your eyes… please,” Aemond said softly, begging his princess to bless him once again with her gaze. Aemond lowered his eye as he was just met with silence. But he quickly raised his gaze as he felt your finger move against his skin, “My heart?” He called as he looked upon your face, your eyelids twitching, and a low hum left your lips.

“Oh, thank gods,” He breathed out as he leaned forward to asses you further. “You’re fine… you didn’t leave me,” He breathed out in relief as he cupped your cheek, your mind still hazy and muddled from your fever. “Leave…? Why— why would I leave you? Where would I even go?” You asked, disoriented as Aemond’s face hovered above yours. Through your impaired vision, you see the concern in Aemond’s eye as if he were ready to weep. “Oh, what’s wrong, my love? Had something happened?” You asked in concern, forcing yourself to open your eyes to see Aemond more clearly and thoroughly.

“Nothing… it’s nothing,” Aemond breathed in relief as he looked into your eyes, tiredness still evident but finally opened. That was all he could ask for. You gave him a weak smile as your finger still caressed his cheek, a low moan leaving your lips. “Do I smell custard tarts?” You then asked, making Aemond let out a low chuckle at your words. “Yes, you can have all the custard tarts you want, my heart,” Aemond said and placed a kiss atop your head before turning to a table to acquire your sweet treats.

“Did someone call me a baby bear again while I was asleep?” You then asked making Aemond chuckle as he returned to his seat with a platter of custard tart, taking your hand in his and giving the back of it another kiss. “No, my heart, that must have been a dream,” he fibbed, all the heaviness he felt subsiding the moment you woke and spoke to him.

Unbeknownst to you both, your father stood and watched the whole scene through the ajar door. A witness to how you ever stoic knight turned soft just for you, who looked at him with your tired, love-filled eyes. The king witnessed as his beloved daughter retold the story of his grandmother.

Tag List: @anuklee @rebeccawinters @bellarkeselection @gayfiretruck @thhriller @wuluhwuhmaster @bittersweetmargarita @jellybeanstacey0519 @ewanmitchellfanatic @aegonswife @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @lee-uh @melsunshine @solatiiium @padfooteyes @nordicmaiden @infernalrusalka @username-is-found @callsigncrushx @livingdead-materialgirl @catherine1x @tanyaherondale @darlingcharling-blog @depressedpolishgirl @roseidol @sapphirevhagar @that-girl-named-alex

612 notes · View notes

eraenaa · 4 months ago

Text

Need

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader

Synopsis: For years, you and Aemond had a rather complicated relationship. But during your brother's trial and stay in the capitol, you both finally confess that you needed each other desperately.

Warnings: Not Proofread, Season 1 Centered, Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Miscommunication, Jealousy, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 10,646 (bear with me pls)

A/N: This was in the drafts for moooonths... also there may be a part 2 centered on the events of season 2 (idk don't hold it against me)

120 AC

You were born a bastard, but you inherited most, if not all, of your mother’s features. The court was clueless about your true paternity, but the silver locks that grew from your scalp and your amethyst eyes were enough to cease their wagging tongues. However, it was unfortunate that though you were saved from the serpents’ speculation, your beloved brothers were not.

You sat by the steps of the tiltyard, watching as your brothers trained with their swords. “Princess, why is it that you’re here?” You hear the Lord Commander ask, his eyes upon his pupils who dueled with straw dummies. “Our lesson with the septa has ended, and Helaena wishes to be alone,” You say quietly, looking upon the knight whose bitterness you felt would always seep through. He gave a curt nod and returned to his post, where he observed your brothers and uncles’ training.

“That is a new dress,” you hear someone remark, peeling your eyes away from your elder brother who sparred with your eldest uncle. You turned to Aemond, who held his wooden sword in his hand, and his lilac eyes were upon the new dress you fashioned. “It is,” You confirmed. “Did the others not suffice? Extravagance is a sin, niece,” Aemond said and watched as your lips formed into a slight pout. The afternoon sun cast upon your fine Valyrian locks, setting them aglow. “Perhaps you shall tell that to your mother. She had commissioned and gifted this dress for me,” You say, smoothing the fabric of your new gown.

Not another word was exchanged as Aemond was called upon the lord commander for a duel, and you silently watched. You noted from the side of your eye that your brother’s father appeared, attending to their training, which was neglected by the Queen’s knight. You rested your chin upon your palm as you were left alone as a mere spectator to their training that was quick to go violent. Aemond returned to where he stood earlier, to his place beside you as two knights fought one another. “You best return inside the keep; this is no place for a girl,” He said, but you sat still in your spot, your eyes glued to the scene before you. You frowned as Aemond placed his frame before you, blocking your view. “You’re no fun, uncle,” You complained and reluctantly stood, dusting off your dress before returning inside the keep.

Aemond smirked as he watched your figure depart, his eyes memorizing the frown on your face as you left and the way your hair swayed as you stomped inside the castle walls. You were quite spoiled, and Aemond greatly frowned about that aspect of you; however, at the same time, he found it amusing— possibly even endearing.

After his training, Aemond found you in the library. Attending to your afternoon ritual of sitting by the windowsill, a book on your lap, and your eyes would shift between the pages and the setting sun. “What are you reading?” Aemond asked as he approached you. “A book,” You say simply, your eyes upon the window. Aemond rolled his eyes and took his seat by your side. “Obviously,” He said and forcefully took the book from your grasp, making you scowl. “This is in High Valyrian,” Aemond remarked as he turned the pages. “It is.”

“You understand it?” He asked in bewilderment. “Some,” Aemond’s brows furrowed as he realized your replies were short. You were usually one to ramble on, aggravating and annoying him as you went on and on with your words. “You are… unwell,” Aemond said as he was not entirely certain as to what emotion you felt. You turned to him, his inquisitive eyes assessing you. “No, I am not ill,” You replied with a slight furrow. “Then… you are perhaps… glum?” He asked slowly, cautiously.

You sighed. “I feel as if my brother does not like me,” You confessed. “Which one?” Aemond asked, daring to sit closer to you. “Jacaerys,” you said and watched as he shrugged. “Hm… that’s fine, he does not like me as well,” Aemond said in an attempt of comfort. “But that is different; you are not his sibling.” You say, and Aemond chewed on his cheek. “Are you so certain that you are?” Aemond watched as further confusion began to plague your face. “What do you mean?” Aemond shrugged.

“Look at them— and look at you. You look more like our sibling than you do them,” Aemond stated the obvious. “If my mother was not present at your birth, you could easily pass as a Targaryen rather than a Velaryon… or a Strong,” Aemond whispered the last part, but he was quick to regret it as you abruptly stood. “You speak of treason, Aemond,” You warned. Growing sensitive to the matter that had always plagued your brothers, “I speak of the truth.” He simply stated and watched you walk away from him once more.

Aemond oddly felt guilt settle in his system in the next couple of hours. He watched you from above the gardens as you sat solemnly and picked at the petals of a flower. “There you are, my sweet girl!” Aemond heard below as your mother approached. “Oh, what’s wrong, my love?” Your mother was quick to notice the melancholy in your eyes. “Nothing,” You say, making your voice sound chipper, but your mother gives you a look of doubt. She sat beside you and ran her hand through your hair, which was a replica of hers. “Who’s my father?” You asked, your voice so low that even your mother barely heard the words you had uttered.

“My sweet, what a question,” She said in shock, and you lowered your eyes. “Your father is Ser Laenor,” She uttered the lie that was second nature. You bit your lip, “Everyone… everyone knows, Mother,” You whispered, tracing the embroidery of your dress. You hear her sigh heavily and gently move your face to look at her. “It matters not who your father is; I am your mother, and that is all that matters,” She whispered and placed a kiss on your temple. You sighed and nodded quietly. “Now, I asked the maids to make your favorite cake; come,” She said and guided you back into the walls of the castle.

The following morning came, and you stood idly by the side as all of you children were in the dragon pits. You placed your eyes on the ground, the melancholy in you about your brother’s dislike toward you not lessening, and it would seem Aemond’s words had only severed it. Aemond observed you, guilt in his heart growing but he could not account as to why. It was unlike you to be so… silent and somber. His father, the king, would always note that your presence is the reason for the liveliness in the dull keep, his obvious favor bestowed upon you as the only daughter of his favored child.

“Dracarys, Vermax!” Jacaerys exclaimed in glee as he demonstrated with his dragon. You stood next to your younger brother, Luc, as he snickered with Aegon. “Are you well, sister?” Lucerys asked as he paused his merriment with your uncle. “I’m fine,” You smiled at your younger brother, who was quick to nod and run ahead somewhere in the pits. Aemond watched as you took steps toward the dragon keepers who stood as your teachers. “Can I take my leave now? I’m quite tired,” He heard you ask in perfect High Valyrian. Aemond was brought out of his observation of you when his brother spoke.

“We have a surprise for you, brother,” Aegon said and guided Aemond closer to the pits. “You are the only one of us who does not have a dragon,” Aegon stated, and Aemond clenched his jaw at the reminder. “I am,” he said and watched as Lucerys disappeared into the pits. “Well, we have found you one,” Aemond felt his heart spike in hope, but it was quick to fall as he saw what Lucerys dragged from the pit. “Presenting… the pink dread!” Aemond could only stare at the pig they adorned with false wings as their laughs rang louder.

You watched the scene with horror, warily turning to Aemond, whose expressions were repressed. “Why would you do such a thing?” You asked Jacaerys, who still laughed at your younger uncle’s expense. “Do not be such a killjoy,” He rolled his eyes at his sister, and you watched as Aemond stood still as the others started to leave the pits. Though you wanted to return to the keep, you stayed and stood by the side, waiting for Aemond, who still stood still in his spot. You bit your lip as you approached him, “Aemond,” You called, and he turned to you with a glare. “I… I’m sorry,” was all you could say, being the one to offer apologies for your brothers’ cruel jest.

“Why? You were not a part of this,” He said coldly, walking off, and you nervously followed him. “I know, but my brother should not ha—“ You halted in your tracks, and the words fell from your lips as Aemond harshly turned to you. “You do not apologize for the actions of… of bastards,” He spat, and you were rendered frozen in shock as you did not know how to take his words. Aemond walked off, and he knew the apology you offered was a way to make him feel better, but it had only enraged him because how can you, the perfect picture of Valyria, apologize for the action of a plain bastard of House Strong?

You were not part of the cruel jape bestowed upon Aemond, but you somehow feel utterly guilty about your brother’s actions. You had noticed that Aemond was not in attendance during supper, adding to your guilt. You turned to your brother and Aegon, none of them plagued by the churning feeling in your gut, and if they were, they hid it well.

Supper had just ended, and you made your way to the kitchen, pleading for your guard to let you wander the halls as you explained to him that you needed to acquire something. You had your lip between your teeth as you cautiously knocked on Aemond’s chamber door. You watched as he cautiously opened the door, “What are you doing here?” He asked, his tone always cold and dismissive. “I— you did not attend supper and… and I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you cake.” You say quietly, hoping that the sweet treat would cheer him up; it always worked for you.

“I’m not hungry,” Aemond dismissed your gesture but felt his stomach twist as your hopeful gaze flew to the ground, the small smile on your lips faltering. “But— but I shall eat what you had brought,” He quickly added, and he felt his heart stutter as you raised your amethyst eyes to meet his, your smile growing wider. Aemond took the plate in your hands. Aemond had thought you would leave, but you just stood there, “Is there anything else?” He furrowed his brows.

You licked your lips, “I truly am sorry about what they did. It was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it… I’ll try to talk to my brot—“ Aemond sighed and shook his head, “I told you, you must not apologize for their actions. You are not the one who had offended me, nor were you a part of it— any apology from you is inconsequential.” Aemond watched as your eyes flew to the floor once more, “Oh,” You said in a small voice. “But thank you, I…” Aemond tried to console the sadness in your eyes at his dismissal. Aemond was never one for his words; all he could do was envelope you into a quick hug before speedily rushing off and leaving you dumbfounded.

That one small action would be the catalyst for all the proceeds between you and Aemond. Each day, you would find yourselves threading closer to one another. No matter how unnatural it seemed to either of you, you two always sought for each other and became somewhat each other’s companion.

“You need to roll your ‘r’ more,” You say as you taught your uncle High Valyrian. At first, you wanted to teach your brother what you had learned about the ancient language, seeing he would be king one day, but he only dismissed you, and Aemond found you sulking along the halls at your brother’s indifference. So, he offered that it be him that you teach instead, for he was always interested in the language of his house. “Zaldrīzes,” You repeated slowly so your uncle could repeat the word with the right pronunciation and tenses. You listened as Aemond repeated the word, and you smiled as he did it correctly. “That means dragon, yes?” He questioned, and you nodded. “And why must you know the High Valyrian word for dragon when you have none?” A third voice suddenly questioned, and the smile quickly dropped on your lips as Aegon appeared with your brothers by his side.

“Mother wants to see you,” Jacaerys then spoke, but your attention was on Aemond, who had lowered his gaze and stewed in quite anger at his brother’s comment. You hesitantly stood and glanced towards Aemond as he would be left in the presence of the other who had done nothing but torment him.

“What is it, mother?” You questioned as you entered her chambers, interrupting a conversation between her and your supposed father. They turned to you with a wary smile, and you felt nervousness enter your system. “My love, your father and I have been discussing, and we have decided that it would be best if we are to move to our rightful place in Dragonstone.” She said softly as she held your hand. Your brows knit together as you comprehended her words. “We are leaving?” You asked in confirmation, and your mother tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and nodded. “Yes. We are to be in our ancestral home— wouldn’t that be fun? You always loved the histories, and nothing is more historical than the seat of our house,” She smiled as she sensed your uncertainty and reluctance.

“But why now? Why must we leave? Can we not stay a few more moons? Why are we to leave so suddenly?” You asked, still confused by the sudden decision. Your mother sighed as she knew this was coming. Unlike them, court life was easy on you; you were favored by the members, even the queen herself, despite her animosity towards your mother and brothers— and Rhaenyra could only be thankful as you were not presented with the same hostility they bestowed upon her. “It is for the best, my love,” She softly said, but you gave no reaction as you did not know how to feel.

“You are leaving.” You jumped in surprise as you heard the voice of Aemond, not realizing that he had entered your chambers, that was being packed away as your departure to Dragonstone was coming by the week’s end. “We are,” you say softly, running your hand through your hair consciously, as he had never seen you with your hair disheveled and out of its braids. “You must be glad my brother would be far away and would stop tormenting you,” You say after a quiet moment, with Aemond gazing upon your chambers as he had never been there before. He only hummed; gladness was not the first emotion he felt when he heard the news of your departing.

You bit your lip as you fiddled with your hair in nerves as you wanted to ask Aemond a question. “Wo— Would you write to me when we are gone?” You asked, your heart beating loudly in your chest. Aemond was stunned at your question. “What?” He questioned, not certain what the meaning of your question was. “It’s just— Helaena and I promised that we would write to each other, and I just thought that maybe we could write to each other too,” Aemond stood before you, unable to meet your eyes. “Why? Should I write to you then? You will be already trading letters with Helaena.” You swallowed thickly at his question. “Well… because you are my friend.” You say quietly. “I am your uncle.” He corrected and you felt embarrassed as you had taught of him as your friend. “Oh, of course,” you say solemnly, recoiling at your actions.

“Is there anything you need?” you asked, wondering why Aemond had come to your chambers in the first place. “Nothing,” he said and left without another word, confusing you.

There were no formal goodbyes; you and your family left in the dead of the night with no one but the king wishing you a safe trip. Though in the morning, Helaena did accompany you throughout the whole day, savoring each other’s presence before you left, and you had hoped Aemond would at least say goodbye to you, but he did not do such a thing, hurting your feelings.

When you arrived in Dragonstone, the first thing you did was write to Helaena, keeping your promise to her. You thought twice about writing to her younger brother, fearing that you would be scorned by his ignorance once more, but you went on anyways and drafted him a letter as well. It had become a habit. Each time you would write to Helaena, you would write to Aemond as well. Writing to him about anything and everything, even including some lessons in High Valyrian. However, naught a single letter of yours was answered. You stopped by the seventh letter as you yourself found it pathetic how you would spend hours writing to him and he would only ignore all you send.

Just as your family had begun to settle in Dragonstone, you were then called to Driftmark as your supposed aunt had died in childbirth. You were dressed in mourning, and the darkness of the place represented exactly how you felt. Not only because of the death of your aunt but because you had to face Aemond after his ignorance of you as well. You stayed near Jacaerys’ side, his animosity towards you seeming to simmer down as you had left the eyes of the court. “Go console your cousins,” Your mother ordered you and your siblings, nudging you towards Baela and Rhaena, who sat solemnly at the side. Instead of doing as you were told, you followed your brother as he stood by a fire, the both of you surrounded in silence.

You stared at the fire, watching as the flames danced, but your attention was caught as a figure clothed in green stood before you and your brother. You raised your gaze and locked eyes with Aemond. You stayed silent, staring at him blankly as the corner of his lips raised ever so slightly and quickly. You blinked and turned to your brother, whose expression mirrored yours. You removed yourself from the situation and sat with your cousins, standing out when next to them even if they tried to sell that the salt that ran in their veins ran through yours as well.

Aemond moved his gaze to you as well, feeling guilty as he had not responded to one of your letters, an odd sensation resting in his insides at your ignorance of him. He wanted to write back, truly he did, but he had nothing to say. He did not know what to share with you, if you would find a matter amusing or not. He had nothing to say, so he said nothing at all. Now he knew the implications of it; you stopped writing to him a fortnight ago, and it was hard for him to admit even to himself that he had missed your letters. He would wait every morning in the ravencote, hoping a scroll would be addressed to him, but none came. When night came, Aemond had half a mind to speak with you, but the roar of the mighty beast had caught his attention, and he forwent his wish to speak with you.

You looked in dread as Aemond was being stitched by the maesters. Blood covered his face, and your brother drew it. You were asleep when everything had transpired, and you found difficulty as to whose side to believe. Though blood was urging you to believe the side of your brothers, you could not be rid of the sympathy you held for Aemond, and the past would be proof that they were accustomed to ganging up on him. You were torn.

When night faded into day, you found yourself having the wish to visit Aemond, but you were certain he would not want your presence. But still, something in you insisted on seeing him. You sneaked around the unfamiliar halls of your supposed father’s home and waited for the guards to step away so you could see Aemond. When they did, you hastily took the opportunity, sneaking your way into his chambers. He was seated upon a desk, his back towards you and you faked a cough to let your presence known.

Aemond turned and saw you standing by the door, surprise overcoming him. He quickly turned away and hid his damaged face. “Get out! Leave!” He spat. But you stood frozen in your place. “Aemond, I—“ He clenched his fists, “Are you deaf?! I said leave!” He screamed, and you cringed as you were unaccustomed to being yelled at. “It will do nothing, but I’m sorry for what was done. You did not deserve it,” you said before doing as he told you. Aemond turned to you, but you had left, forcing him to stare where you had stood. Why would you apologize for the actions of your brothers? Why were you always so sympathetic when it came to him? Why did you care about him?

You drafted another letter when you returned to Dragonstone. You drafted it even though you knew Aemond would not reply. You once again offered your apologies and wished him a speedy recovery even though you knew your words would not recover what was taken from him, but that was all you could offer. You were, however, surprised that a letter came to you a week after you had sent yours. It was from Aemond! Finally, he had written. But you frowned at what he had written.

Again, you do not apologize for the actions of bastards. You had done nothing; your apologies offer nothing. I have no need for it. What’s done is done.

Anger overcame you. Why was he like this? So stubborn and difficult! You could not help but write another letter telling him off at what he had sent.

Aemond felt a smile creep up to his lips. The first smile he had since the dreadful night in Driftmark. He read your lengthy reply; your frustrations were evident in every stroke and letter you wrote. Of course, he expected this. All went along with his plan. He could not bring himself to write to you casually, but he could bring himself to write to you with the purpose of an argument. Aemond quickly went to his writing table and wrote his reply, still amused at the length of the letter you sent and its errors.

You groaned your frustration as you received your second letter from Aemond. The first line was him mocking you at the lapses made in your letter, and the rest was him rewriting it with the necessary corrections. “What is it, sister?” Lucerys asked as he noticed your frustrations as you reread what Aemond had sent. You locked eyes with Jacaerys, who eyed the letter in your hands curiously, not certain who wrote for you to be agitated as such. “Nothing— It’s no one,” You say nervously, as you were certain that they would disapprove of you having contact with Aemond. So you hurriedly returned to your chambers and hid from them, drafting another letter to be sent to your uncle.

It quickly became a custom with you and Aemond writing to each other. Your letters with Helaena had become sparse and occasionally, but you and Aemond wrote to each week. What started to be a written argument then turned to normal letters, telling each other all that had occurred in your lives. Things that neither of you could tell your siblings were instead written down and told to each other.

You lost count as to how many letters he had sent, gone was the boy who ignored what you would send. He even included a parcel along with his usual letter for your name day— giving you a sapphire hairpin that would nicely match your dresses. You had a smile the whole day because of that, unaccustomed to witnessing such kindness from him, but you were grateful. Sending him a letter of your thanks, which Aemond smiled upon as he noted the gratefulness in each word you wrote.

A few years would pass with you and Aemond sending each other letters each week, exchanging gifts each name day. Waiting by the ravencote to receive the parchment that each of you looked forward to each week. However, such customs came to an abrupt stop after Aemond had turned six and ten; you never received the usual letter of thanks from him, and he never replied to the next two letters you sent. All contact ceased, and you would not speak to him until the fateful day you and your family returned to the Red Keep.

129 AC

Aemond stared harshly outside the window as you and your kin arrived. He watched the way your silver hair glimmered and swayed as you stood by the gates, carrying a silver babe in your arms as your family frowned at the lack of welcome that waited for them. All knew you would arrive today, but none held no time nor care to welcome you and your kin. Aemond leaned closer to the window, observing you, noticing that a glare would bounce atop your head, and he realized you wore the hairpin he had sent during your ninth name day.

He saw you raise your gaze, and he quickly removed himself from the window, fearing you would see him even through the distance. He clenched his jaw as he felt the odd sensation of his heart announcing its existence. Not even his rigorous sword training was able to make his heart beat so loudly. Aemond breathed in deeply and tried his best effort to remove you from his mind and instead go upon his day, pretending that you were not just an arm’s length away.

You wandered about the castle, never straying far from your family as you were somewhat nervous to face Aemond. Subjected to the same emotions you felt when you last saw him in Driftmark. Embarrassment and anger swirled within you as he no longer replied to any of your letters. You hid in your old chambers to make certain that you would not run into him and be forced into a rather awkward situation, but it seemed inevitable as the next day was quick to come, and you would be forced to see him in the great hall as all needed to attend the trial.

You cowered behind your older brother, using his frame to hide yourself. You stared at the floor as you did not trust yourself to raise your gaze, for your eyes would surely search for Aemond. You have wondered for years what he would look like— will he still be the same boy tormented by his brother? Or will he be this formidable warrior like the few whispers you had heard? Curiosity was consuming you, your eyes burned with wonderment at what Aemond had grown to be, but you forced yourself to stare blankly at the floor.

Aemond looked around the room in disinterest. He had been trying to catch a glimpse of you, but you cowered behind your brother, the only thing he could see of you was the maroon skirt of your gown. His thoughts were bothering him, and he kept questioning one question. What did you look like now? Were you the same little girl that once ran along the halls of this keep? Did you still hold your mother’s features, or had your true father’s replaced them? Aemond was dying to know. But he was denied an answer as Jacaerys blocked his view, the bronze prince standing between him and you.

Jacaerys gritted his jaw as he felt the persistent stare of his uncle. His eye kept flying toward your direction throughout the trial, and not even the sudden appearance of the king made his curious gaze waver. Jacaerys glanced upon you, who stood behind him, your gaze firmly planted on the floor as your fingers traced the embroidery of your dress. Your stature somewhat calmed him, for you did not appear to hold the same curious gaze of Aemond.

When dinner came, you were overcome with nerves once more, the same tormenting emotions that resided inside you at the thought of Aemond never fading. You walked arm in arm with Jacaerys, already weary as to where your seat would be. “Come, sister, you shall sit next to me,” Jacaerys muttered as he already felt the piercing, cold gaze of your uncle. “My dear, you must sit with your betrothed. Come, my love, you shall sit here.” Your mother smiled and pulled you towards one end of the table. You were forced to sit, and you sat rigidly as Aemond was stationed beside you. You still had not looked upon his face, instead distracting yourself with the feast laid before you.

You were avoiding his gaze, Aemond had realized. Coward.

You chewed on your lip as you saw the outline of Aemond from your peripheral vision, memorizing it because that was all you could do since you still could not bring yourself to look at him. You made conversation with Helaena while you all together ignored her younger brother, who you once considered your friend until he proved himself not.

Aemond was itching to speak with you— to confront you about what had happened. You two had a good thing going. You had gotten him used to the custom writing to you and waiting to read what you wrote each week. He found solace in the written word, telling you all he could not share with others, and he would like to believe you did the same. It was an excellent ordeal; why, then, did you stop? Why had you never returned his letters? Was it retribution for what he had done when you were children? Aemond was uncertain and desperately needed to know why you had forsaken him.

Why did you have to get him used to the contact and ensure that it was only you who held his thoughts and then completely cut him off? Aemond grew more enraged at the reminder, which is why he aimed to ruin the night. He would not have you all complacent and think that this would go on smoothly all the while he was sitting in turmoil.

You returned to your chambers as your mother had ordered, caught off guard at how violent the night had turned, but a part of you had expected it. You foolishly thought that the hostility and cruelty in childhood had left when all of you matured, but it was only lying in wait, waiting for the first instance you all shall meet again.

“Sister,” Jacaerys called as you were nearing your chambers. You paused in the hall and waited for him to reach your place. “Does your jaw hurt? Must we fetch the maesters?” You fretted as Jacaerys rarely seeks you out. “I am fine— but I must implore you to stay far from our uncles,” He said bitterly. You blinked, not finding it necessary for him to remind you. “You could be by Helaena, but the moment any of her brothers come to her side, you must remove yourself from the situation.” He added, and you gave a nod. “Very well,” Jacaerys was partly surprised as you readily agreed as he believed your affections for Aemond would hinder you from agreeing. But it would seem those affections were left in childhood, and Jacaerys found great comfort in that.

“Good. Good night, sister,” He said and uncharacteristically placed a kiss on your cheek, momentarily confusing you, but you only smiled and bid your brother good night as well before retiring to your chambers.

Unbeknownst to either of you, a certain one-eyed prince was lurking in the halls, hidden by an alcove, and listened to the whole conversation. Aemond knew he should not care, that he must convince himself to be indifferent as any reaction that came from him would indicate that he still cared about you, but it was inevitable. His rage was undeniable. The dragon’s blood that ran through his veins forever made him rash and ill-tempered. As you passed through the hall, he could not resist himself and pulled you into the alcove, his hand covering your lips as he was certain you would scream in panic.

Your body went cold as you were pulled by what you thought was a stranger but as you saw the familiar lilac eye of Aemond, you eased into his hold. When your panic had settled, he slowly removed his hand from your lips, the feel of his touch burning. “What are you— what is it?” You whispered as your bodies were flushed together.

Aemond was speechless, having no concrete reason to pull you into the secluded niche in the wall. “The gull you have to return here,” You frowned at his words, not entirely certain what conversation or argument he wished to make. “It’s not like I have a choice.” You scowled, the reminder of his abrupt ignorance making your settled panic turn to rage. Heated and enraged stares were exchanged as neither of you had the capacity to speak; too much needed to be said, but none had the courage to say it.

You breathed in harshly, letting go of his gaze, knowing full well that his eyes were once your point of weakness. His lilac orbs were constantly pulling at your sympathy. “Is that all? Can you let me go now?” You questioned bitterly as his arm was still around your waist, keeping you against his chest. Aemond gritted his jaw, breathing in deeply as well. Smelling your unique scent that had always made his knees weak and made his heart stutter in his chest. “I had always held you in higher regard than your plain brothers— but now I see you for what you truly are. You might be the image of Old Valyria, but we all know what you are— a bastard and nothing more.”

You stood there dumbfounded and immensely hurt. You stared at the space Aemond once occupied in disbelief that he had said such words. Never once had he called you a bastard— and now that he did, now that you experienced how effortlessly the word rolled off his tongue and stabbed you mercilessly, you finally understood the animosity your brothers held for him. The sympathy and fondness you had always harbored for him in childhood faded and dissolved away— something you never thought could happen.

“Why— How are you so cruel?” You could not restrain yourself as you screamed the question out into the open hall, following Aemond, who had stomped away. You watched him with your fury-filled eyes as he slowly turned around, gaze as enraged as yours. He scoffed and stepped forward, him purposefully flushing your bodies against one another, and through your anger, you did not have the sensibilities to pull away. “I’m cruel?” He scoffed in ridicule, and you frowned further.

“Yes! You may be the one who has one eye, but I had always turned blind when it came to your bitter and spiteful behavior, even when we were children! I always believed that there is some lightness in you— a kindness that one must patiently search for, but you are nothing but cold and callous!” You practically spat; each word you uttered twisted Aemond’s heart. He had no words. No words of reply as he felt his already broken heart be mangled by the only girl who he thought could repair it.

Aemond just stared at you unblinkingly, and you shook your head, lowering your gaze as you could not handle his intense stare. He had managed to snake one of his arms around your waist to keep you further flush against him again, and you tried to pry away his hold, but his other hand grabbed your face to turn to him. Before you could say a word of protest or move away from his hold, his thin, cool lips were against yours.

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening. He kissed you— he had the audacity to steal your first kiss! You mustered all the might you had to push him away, both of you breathing heavily again. You watched as Aemond’s jaw ticked, and he stepped forward to reach you once more, but you were quick to deliver a slap to his cheek. Just like earlier, the hit did not even affect him; it just partly moved his face to the side.

He scoffed and turned to you again before he could even move, your body acted on instinct, and you took his face into your hands and kissed his lips just as he had kissed yours. Aemond took a second to realize what was happening, but when he did, he quickly wrapped his arms around your frame to hold you closer to him. His hands were tangling in your hair that he had always had the urge to run his fingers through, curious to feel if your silver locks felt the same as his.

Neither of you parted your lips even though you both were running out of air; the two of you only stumbled along the halls until you felt Aemond push you against the curved wall of the alcove once more. “Ae… Aemond,” you sighed and held onto the back of your neck as his lips trailed downward to your neck. Aemond made a small bite on your neck, and you hissed at the sting, but a quiet sigh quickly followed it as you felt his tongue soothe your skin.

You feel his lips trail back to yours, and a wanton noise leaves your lips. His hand reached yours, and he let it rest atop his leather-clad chest. You felt dizzy— lightheaded; you’ve never kissed anyone before, so you had no point of reference, but the way Aemond’s lips were against yours and how certain he was with his actions, you felt confident to say that it felt good. You feel him lead your hand lower from his chest, lowering to the point that it makes you nervous, but you simply let him. Too preoccupied by how your body was reacting to him.

You feel his hand cease in its guidance as your touch was by his stomach, but you still continue what he started, trailing your hand lower towards a point where you know there is no turning back. But as you did so, Aemond pulled away. You tried to catch your breath, watching him through hazed eyes, his lips swollen and more pink, his eye holding apprehension and lust. “This never happened,” He suddenly said, and all the pleasure you had felt just a moment before was quick to wash away— as quick as how Aemond stomped off and left you by the alcove.

Aemond stared into the distance as he broke fast with his mother and sister. He did not find rest even for a second. He was haunted by his actions. The feel of your lips still lingered, the smell of you was still fresh, and your touch had left its imprint on him.

“Brother?” Helaena called once more, confused as Aemond was always alert, but she had called him three times, and he was still yet to realize. “Aemond,” His mother called, and it was only then that he snapped out of his thoughts. He finally raised his gaze, and before he could turn to his mother, he caught the sight of you walking along the gardens. A beaming smile on your face as your hair swayed with the wind and your arm firmly clasped with a young lord’s.

Aemond felt his eye twitch, rage quickly bubbling in him as another laugh left your lips, letting the lord guide you through the gardens. How dare you?! How dare you kiss him? How dare you leave your burning touch along his body? How dare you make him feel ablaze with want, then quickly be in the arms of another?

“Aemond,” the queen called more sternly, and Aemond turned his furied gaze to his mother, momentarily startling the queen. “Your sister was asking if you could accompany Jaehaerys and Jaehaera to the pit.” The queen cleared her throat and turned to her side just in time to catch a glimpse of you walking arm in arm with a son of House Celtigar. She did hear of your mother’s wish for you to be betrothed before the end of the year. “I am not their father— shouldn’t Aegon be handling such matters?” He questioned, resisting to plant his gaze upon you once more.

“He should, but your brother cannot be relied on to do such things... please, Aemond. Your sister rarely asks anything of you.” The queen sighed, and Aemond could only give a nod.

As he rode with the children to the dragon pit, Aemond was not absolved of the rage he had felt earlier that morning. In truth, it only doubled as the image of you carelessly laughing with the lord had burnt itself in his mind.

When the wheelhouse came to a halt, Jaehaerys was quick to run off, and Aemond sighed in aggravation as he was rangled into such arrangements when there were surely more pressing matters he could tend to. But he supposed he’d be best off handling the twins’ lessons with their dragons; they are the next generation of Targaryens, after all.

As Aemond saw the twins’ lessons, they were suddenly ushered off to the side as one of the dragon keepers informed him that a dragon shall land in the pits. Aemond looked upon the heavens and saw the belly of your beast, its scales glimmering at where the light hit it. He gritted his teeth as you were nearing landing, having the urge to pick up the twins and rush out of the pits as he did not wish to be near your presence.

As your beast landed in the pits, you were quick to spot Aemond, his eye keenly observing his nephew and niece. You pursed your lips, wanting to depart and fly above the skies again just to avoid his company, but you sighed and let go of the reigns of your saddle. A stepstool was placed below you, and you carefully disembarked from the back of your great beast.

You were prepared to ignore his presence altogether, simply board your wheelhouse and leave him without another spearing glance, but as two tots ran to you, you knew you could not exit without notice. “Hello,” you greeted with a small smile as two children dressed in green looked upon you with their wide purple eyes with curiosity. They made no reply, only stared at you, and you wondered if Aemond would come and fetch his nephews; he made no move. “Are you here for your lessons?” You asked softly, and they simply blinked at you.

Aemond smirked discreetly as you tried to interact with his nephew and niece. The twins were never one for words. They could speak, but they rarely do. Which often unnerved the court as the children only stared at them. “Where are your dragons?” He heard your question, and Aemond expected for you to be met with silence once more, but surprisingly, Jaehaera pointed off to the side where two small dragons waited for them. The twin’s hatchlings were quick to grow, but they were still small enough to be housed in the keep. However, the queen had no wish to be under the same roof as such beasts, so she had ordered them to be sent and grow into the pits. It was a crime in Aemond’s eye to part a dragon with their rider, but his mother could not understand it.

“Oh, how adorable!” You gushed and walked towards the small beasts, the two children quickly trailing behind you. He scowled at your words. Dragons are meant to strike fear! Not be called adorable. His Vhagar certainly wasn’t.

“What’s their names?” You asked, looking towards little Jaehaera, who seemed to quickly warm up to you as she clung to the skirts of your riding leather. “Morghul,” She whispered, and Aemond bit his tongue; your eyes widened in shock at how a little, innocent-looking girl would name their dragon death. She had the influence of her uncle, of course.

“Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, go back to your lessons.” Aemond finally spoke and walked closer to where you three stood, Jaehaera still clinging to your skirts as her brother looked in between you and his uncle. “Yes, best not to keep your beasts waiting— they’re very temperamental,” You say, reluctantly agreeing with Aemond so you can leave. You tried to usher Jaehaera to the dragon keepers who held their dragons. “What’s your dragon’s name?” She asked, ignoring her uncle’s orders and your urging. You smiled softly, her hands still firmly holding the skirt of riding leathers as she looked upon you with her big, innocent purple eyes. You uttered the name of your dragon, and she looked at you with wonder.

“Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, your dragons are waiting,” Aemond said impatiently as he realized how taken his niece and nephew were by you. “Go on, little ones.” You urged once more, but the twins only blinked at you. “Come now; you must form a bond with your dragons so one day, you can ride with them,” You say, crutching down to be at eye level with two. You had not expected anything like this to happen, especially not in the presence of Aemond.

“Will you stay?” Jaehaerys finally spoke of his request. You hesitated, not wanting to be in the presence of the man whose lips were upon you just last night. “But you have your uncle by your side,” You say softly, not certain why the children were so keen on you. You’ve only met them the other day. They only shook their heads, silver hair shining in the afternoon sun as they did. You sighed, glancing towards Aemond, who only watched you steely-eyed. “Very well... but you must listen to every word and do what the dragon keepers say, yes?” You said, and the two nodded fervently, making you smile.

You stood straight and watched two children run to their respective dragons to finally resume their lessons. “You can leave now,” Aemond then remarked as he stood at arm's length by your side, both of your gazes planted upon the twins. “I told the children that I shall stay, I intend to keep my word,” You replied coldly, and you heard his scoff.

“A word from a bastard’s tongue could never be trusted,” He muttered in ancient tongue, quickly irritating you. “Might I wonder why you are here... you never had a dragon at their age, what lesson will you even impart to the children?” You asked, aiming to scorn Aemond. Something you never thought you would do. Aemond's eye widened with rage, his head quickly turning upon you who still looked onward.

“What? It’s true. You do not know what it’s like to have a hatchling; you do not know how to handle and bond with a dragon that was placed in your cradle.” You say, turning your head to the side to see the fury in his eye. You saw his hand twitch, seemingly wanting to harm you, as well as how his jaw ticked, resisting his urges. “What? Do you want to hit me now just as you did my brother? Go on, I’m well sure no one would hinder you.” You provoked, and Aemond felt his scar throb beneath its cover.

“You dare speak to me in such a way, bastard!” He gritted lowly, and you rolled your eyes. “I have insulted you twice, and that is all you have to say? Bastard? You truly are pathetic, Aemond.” You spat. Aemond dissolved the gap between the two of you, and your bodies flushed once more. “You do not know what I am capable of... and when you come to know it, I’m well sure you would not like it,” He whispered darkly, but you simply laughed in ridicule. “Your threats are empty… you cannot do anything. You are but a hound for your family. You may have the largest dragon, but we both know you are undeserving of it. Now, enough with all of this bother— I have more pressing matters rather than having arguments with you.”

“Like what? Entertaining lords?” Aemond retorted, and a thought in your mind tried to convince that there was jealousy in his tone. But you quickly pushed away such indulgent thoughts. “In all honesty, yes. I am to marry before the year’s end.” You say, a fib on your lips as you have no set time. You watched as he scoffed. “And do you honestly think any lord would wed a bastard?” He questioned, hoping that fury might be more evident in your eyes and set the amethyst orbs ablaze, but you only smirked at him, a twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” You uttered, watching as his icy stare momentarily falter. “Good day, Aemond. This has been most unpleasant, and I think for the sake of both our sanities, let us not have a repeat of this.” You smiled sardonically before departing from where you stood and went to his niece and nephew to say goodbye and finally leave the dragon pit.

When night came and dinner was served in your mother’s chambers, your irritation in regards to Aemond had not lessened. You had done all in your power to be absolved of the thought of him, but it was all moot, and there was only one solution in your mind.

“When are we to leave? The trial is over; why must we still stay?” You questioned as there was a silence in the familial dinner you partook in. “Soon, dearest... though I do must admit that I am surprised at your eagerness to leave— I recalled years ago all you wanted was to return here,” Your mother answered, and you simply shook your head. “When is soon, mother?” You questioned further and turned to your older brother, who had a questioning look in your insistence.

“You act so miserable here, sister, but we are the ones who had to bear the ridicule of court.” He suddenly interjected before your mother could answer your question. The words of Jacaerys placed a stifling air in the chambers, and you bundled the fabric of your dress under the table. “Jacaerys,” Your mother warned. “But it is true. She has been bellyaching with the desire to leave, but we are the ones who had been the center of derision since we had returned.”

“Enough, Jacaerys.” Your stepfather then interjected as he saw your pursed lips and lowered gaze. “I just do not understand why you must ceaselessly complain about the fact that we are still here when you are obviously adored by the court.” Jacaerys then added. “I asked about our departure twice, brother,” You muttered in defense. “It is still twice more than me and Luc.”

“Please do not bring me into this,” your younger brother then pleaded as he settled further in his seat, avoiding both of your gazes. You sighed and let go of your tight hold on your skirts. “If you would excuse me, I think I shall retire for the night.” You said quietly as you abruptly stood, your actions and words only bringing forth a scoff from your older brother.

You did not wait for any further reply as you hastily left your mother’s chambers because you felt tears were starting to well in your eyes because of your brother’s obvious contempt for you. Contempt you could never understand because, in your eyes, you were in the same position. You may have silver hair and light eyes, but you were still a bastard just like him. A bastard, just as Aemond said you were.

You harshly wiped away your tears as you threaded in the halls, and as you were occupied with brushing away pearl tears, you managed to collide with another. “Watch it, bastard.” The familiar voice of Aemond gritted as you passed him. The prince had expected a reply, but you walked onward, not even sparing him a glance.

You believed you had left him behind, and he had gone, but as a hand grasped your shoulder and made you halt, you knew that you must now face the ridicule of Aemond as he witnessed you cry. “Leave me alone, Aemond.” You say, trying to sound forceful, but your voice cracked with emotion.

“Who must answer for this?” He questioned lowly, and through your tears, you frowned. “What?” You asked, trying once more to walk away, but he held onto your arm. “Who made you cry?” He asked more clearly and forcefully. “It’s no one— I’m fine.” You insisted and tried to be free from his grasp as you had no wish for a repeat of what had transpired the previous night to happen once more.

“No, you are not. You do not cry for no reason— who then made you cry?” Aemond insisted, unable to hinder himself to show care. Even when he was young, he could not stomach it when you were glum and most certainly not when you cried. He had hoped he had outgrown such traits, but here he was, still affected every time you let pearl tears stream down your cheeks.

You breathed in deeply as you realized he would not leave you alone until you gave him an answer. “I had a disagreement with my brother.” You uttered lowly, and Aemond leaned closer to hear your words properly. “Regarding what?” He pries further, and you feel your melancholy turn to frustration. But still, you answered his query. “He does not seem to think that the opinions of the court regarding our paternity affect me— he thinks I have it all lightly because the gods bestowed me with silver hair.” You said in honesty, but quickly recoiling as you had deduced that Aemond would only side with your brother with that matter.

“So you mean to tell me your brother had made you cry because… you do not look bastard enough?” Aemond questioned, and you clenched your jaw at his words. “Yes. Now, let go of me. I wish to be alone.” You gritted and forcefully yanked your arm away from his hold.

When the next morning came, you went to the great hall to break your fast, and when you approached a table that your mother sat upon, your eyes widened as your older brother now had new bruises and cuts on his face. “W- what happened?” You asked in shock, and Jacaerys avoided your gaze. “Aemond,” Baela answered simply. “Again? But why?”

“I think you know why,” Jacaerys muttered and stood up to leave, twisting your heart because no matter what you did or did not do, your brother could never accept you as his sister. There was always this animosity in Jacaerys that, try as you might, would never lessen. You turned to your mother, who sighed, “I think you were right, dearest... we must leave, and we must leave soon.”

As soon as your mother finished her sentence, you hastily left the hall in search of Aemond to confront him about what he had done. Through unending hallways and rooms, you found him in the library, reading by the fire. “Ah, niece, so glad you can jo—“ You swiftly cut him off by slapping his cheek. A slap that was harsh enough for his head to move to the side but apparently not forceful enough for him to take seriously because he only laughed. “What did you do to Jacaerys?! Why are you so cruel?!”

Aemond laughed without humor, “I’m cruel? You had just slapped me without cause!” You shook your head, “I had a cause. It was revenge for my brother.” You said, and Aemond rolled his eye. “Revenge for a bastard who has no honor as he offended his sister? He is the one to spew such disparaging words, yet you maim me?”

“I am not a maiden in need of defending! You had no right to—“ You gasped as Aemond pulled you close, the words on your lips disappearing. “I had every right to do as I pleased. If you shall not defend yourself, then who will?” He said lowly, his breath fanning your face, making eyes flutter to his thin, beckoning lips. Aemond mirrored your actions, his eye unable to resist your plush, red lips.

You swallowed thickly and tried to regain your composure. “I do not need you to defend me. I do not need you.” You insisted, and Aemond shook his head. “You have always needed me.” He gritted out. “Much time had passed… and we are grown now. But no prolonged amount of time could make me forget about the little girl who always trailed me around the castle because she needed solace from her brother.”

You bit down on your tongue, your body unable to resist the pull of Aemond. “Admit it, ñuha ōños… admit that you need me— then, now, and always.” (My light) “You needed me when we were growing up within the same walls… you needed me even if an ocean had separated us… and now, you still need me even if I am just a hair away from you.”

You tried to shake your head, but Aemond used a finger against the side of your jaw to prevent you from denying yourself the truth. “You need me… you want me. You always have, and you shall always be in want of me,” Aemond whispered; his lips had still not touched yours, but you could already feel his kiss. “Just as how I have always needed and wanted you as well,” He admitted, and you could not help yourself as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sealed your lips with a kiss.

Aemond felt his knees weaken as a moan left your lips. Aemond ran his hands through your frame, one hand on your waist to pull you closer and another to cup your heaving tit. You clung to Aemond further as you felt lightheaded by how his tongue battled with yours. You feel your feet moving, but your mind cannot comprehend where Aemond is leading you. You only started to realize that he had led you to sit on the chair he once sat upon.

Your lips chased and dwindled upon his as he moved to part them. Your eyes glassy, dazed, and intoxicated by Aemond. You watched in anticipation as he knelt before you. His lilac gaze never left yours. You feel his lips against yours once more, but it was quick to leave as he trailed his kisses downwards. To your neck… to your chest… and your eyes widened as you felt him lift the skirts of your dress and settle himself between your legs, his kisses focused on the inside of your thighs.

“Aemond…” You called, looking frantically at the empty room, still in fear that anyone might walk in. “Do you not want this, ñuha ōños? Isn’t this what you need?” You bit your lip and took in a harsh breath as you felt his angular nose barely brush against your cunny as he focused his kisses on the other side of your inner thighs. Nipping the soft, sensitive flesh.

You could not even describe how it felt as you finally felt his punishing lips against your cunt. All you could remember was that a strained moan left your lips and the feel of Aemond smirking against your skin. “Does that feel good, ñuha ōños?” He asked, voice muffled against your wetness, his tongue swirling upon the pearl of your cunt. Aemond heard no word leave your lips, only your moans of agreement echoing throughout the silent room.

He was not entirely certain of how to proceed. He had never tasted a cunt before. Of course, he laid with others… the madame, other whores, or even the loose morale ladies of the court. But not once did he have the want to feel his lips against their cunt— he barely even placed his lips against theirs. He only wanted yours.

Ever since he was young, he always wondered how it would feel to kiss your lips. To taste you. And as he grew older, when manhood approached… he would spend many nights lying on his bed, his hand below the sheets and palming his length. Thinking of you. Hoping that his hands were yours and praying you should be by his side. As good as he was at hiding his true sentiments about you… he could not do it to himself as he knew all too well that it was always you that he had wanted and needed.

Aemond groaned against your cunt as you gripped his hair, and your hips bucked as you were nearing your peak. Your brows furrowed, and your back arched when you felt Aemond’s tongue enter you, a gasp leaving your lips as that lone action accompanied by the feel of the bridge of his nose nestling upon your throbbing bud had spurred your release, his name leaving your lips as you came.

Aemond placed a lasting kiss against your cunt and removed himself under your skirts. He saw as if you were a sprawled mess on the chair. Hair disheveled, lips raw, and face flushed. Aemond smirked at the view, lifting you up and taking a seat, placing you on his lap as you tried to recover from the pleasure Aemond had given. The pleasure that you both desperately needed.

You feel him nuzzle his face into your neck, and you let out a satisfied sigh as he wraps his arms around your frame. “I must leave soon,” You sighed as Aemond intertwined your fingers. “An ocean nor your brother could not separate us, ñuha ōños…” Aemond muttered, but your brows knit in confusion.

“Last night, I learned Jacaerys had been taking the letters I sent you and the letters you wished to send to me.” He admitted, and your once relaxed body turned rigid, but Aemond was quick to soothe you back into his arms. “I was bearing ill feelings when you first arrived… I thought you had scorned me. But I finally found out that your brother was the reason why our contact had ceased.” He explained, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“That shall never happen again, my light. If you must return to Dragonstone, remember that I am just a letter or a flight away, nothing will ever separate us again.” Aemond said lowly, and you closed your eyes to seal your lips and prayed it was true.

404 notes · View notes

thekinslayed · 1 year ago

Text

Dragons of the Same Fire

summary | Escaping to Harrenhal after the Blacks take King's Landing, you are unhappy to learn that the rumors surrounding Aemond rang true.

pairing | aemond targaryen x older sister!reader (helaena's twin)

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, jealousy, rough sex (like rly rough), dom!aemond, subby!reader, lots of arguing, Criston wants no part of this ..but has a favorite child, mentions of aemond x alys, choking, spanking, breeding kink, incest, too much lore w these two omfg

wordcount | 6.7k

note | hope u guys don’t mind another canon aem fic :) this has taken the longest to finish, and i am so happy to finally have this out!! had to make reader hate alys for the plot, sorry mommy 💔

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“Rider approaching!”

A swift flash of darkness passed through the gates of Harrenhal when the first sprinkle of dusk painted the sky. The sun was only beginning to set behind the dark castle, rays of red bleeding through the blues of the horizon. Archers quickly presumed their position upon the intruder’s presence, their bows nocked as they awaited the command to shoot. The horse halted to a stop right by the castle’s entrance, prompting the soldiers to stand even more wary when its rider dismounted. The Lord Hand, Ser Criston Cole rushed out of the fortress, sword drawn to approach the unknown figure.

“Reveal yourself,” the knight barked. A gloved hand is raised to halt the archers, the Dornishman taking cautious steps forward. The dark cloak is pushed back, revealing mud-stained silver waves and purple eyes.

“Princess?”

The Dornishman visibly relaxed at the sight of Queen Alicent’s second daughter. As his sword lowered, so did all the bows that pointed at you. Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you let out a relieved sigh, a twisted smirk adorning your lips when you approached the knight. “Quite a warm welcome from my brother’s troops. I hope you haven’t missed me too much, Ser Criston,” you greeted him, bumping his shoulder playfully before walking past his stunned figure to enter the dark castle.

Aemond had been at the campgrounds approving arrangements for their next move when the news came. He refused to sit idly by while his half-sister and uncle kept his family prisoners and forged a plan to lure their dragons out of the capital. A squire from Harrenhal had rushed to inform him of your arrival, causing him to return to the fortress in haste. He all but burst through the castle’s threshold in search of you, frightening the knights standing guard at his thunderous arrival. The prince regent was directed to the bathhouse, where he found you leaning your head back while dipped in one of the great stone tubs. Your eyes were closed as your muscles relaxed in the steaming water of the bath; your body tortured with aches from the grueling journey you had taken to escape King’s Landing.

Your ears perked up at the sound of the door opening, listening to the quiet footsteps that approached where you sat. A soft smile spread on your lips when you recognized his familiar gait, though you made no move to face him.

“Is that you, my beloved?” you asked, tone relaxed and smooth. Aemond couldn’t deny the thumping in his ears at the sight of you. Steam billowed around your naked figure, and your skin glistened in the warm glow of the torches hung on the pillars. You called out to him like a siren in the middle of the dark ocean, your voice alluring the usually headstrong prince. Your younger brother approached the side of the stone to get a better glimpse of you. Flushed like a blushing rose in the sweltering air of the bathhouse, your eyes opened and turned to Aemond, your smile widening at the sight of him.

“Sweet sister,” he greeted. His lone eye was blown wide as he stared at you, visibly astonished. “How… They had told me you disappeared,” the prince said dumbfoundedly. You let out a sigh, beckoning him closer. Aemond sat on the tub’s edge, bending down when you reached up to cup his jaw to plant a kiss on his cheek. Your eyes sparkled when they stared into his good eye, chest fluttering upon seeing his handsome face up close once again. Before you could pull your hand away, Aemond’s larger one covered yours when he leaned into your touch. His eye flickered to your chest, where your perked nipples had peaked through the surface of the water when you sat up higher to face him, before meeting your eyes once more. A spark ignited deep within him, a familiar tingle coursing through his skin at the sight of you. He called out your name in a whisper, earning a hum as a response from you. “What happened? How did you get here?” he queried.

You gave him a rueful smile, pulling your hand away to hug your knees into your chest. “When Rhaenyra and Daemon started to descend to King’s Landing, mother urged me to flee with Aegon. Larys Strong had gotten us out, but I asked him to spare me a horse so I may ride to Harrenhal. I had to see you, I had to let you know we are unharmed,” you explained, studying Aemond’s reaction. He exhaled deeply through his nose, looking away from you as shame coursed through him. “They are safe, my sweet.”

“How is our mother safe in the hands of those vapid cunts? And Helaena, after all they have done to her?” he asked angrily. The prince was enraged at his foolishness, having let his family be so easily captured while he led his army away in a desperate attempt to lure his uncle into battle. He vowed to take King’s Landing back to his power with fire and blood, unleashing Vhagar’s full might if he had to.

You placed your hand on his wrist, squeezing it softly. “They are being held in chains in their chambers, yes, but Rhaenyra will not kill them. It would be a foolish decision that will cost them everything,” you reassured him firmly, watching as he clenched his jaw in frustration, still refusing to look at you. The image of your twin’s haunted look before you left her flashed through your mind. Since Jaehaerys had been killed before her own eyes, Helaena refused to let anyone touch her, often growing distressed and panicked when approached by her own family. However, she had let you, her only sister, hug her tight on the day you left. You remembered the scent of rosemary in her hair as you buried your face in her neck, whispering the promises of your return as you kissed her cheek. Your heart had shattered when you cast a last glimpse at her and saw a lone tear run down her cheek, having to be all but dragged away from your twin before you slipped through Maegor’s tunnels.

Aemond ran a free hand in frustration down his face, taking deep breaths to will himself to calm down. “And Aegon?” he asked quietly. Through the leather of his doublet, he felt how your thumb rubbed at his wrist soothingly, your touch warming his skin.

“Fret not, he is safe, and so is Jaehaera,” you answered though you doubted your own words. Leaving your wounded eldest brother and his remaining child in the hands of Larys Strong perturbed you, wary of the man’s conniving nature, but your king had sent you away to Aemond, leaving no room for arguments.

“He needs you,” Aegon had croaked out, before being whisked away in a simple, unassuming carriage.

Mud had been rubbed into your hair to conceal the stark brightness of your silver tresses before you journeyed to Harrenhal. You rode through the dead of night, only stopping to grant your horse a moment’s rest. An ache in your heart made you long for your dragon still kept in the Dragonpit, having no choice but to leave her lest you raise suspicions of your whereabouts.

As you passed through the endless woods, your senses were on high alert, careful of any nearby threat. A dagger had been your only weapon, and what little fighting skills you retained from when Ser Criston had taught you in your youth were certainly not enough to defend you, but the gods had blessed you when you saw the ominous sight of Harrenhal appear through the horizon at the break of dawn, the terrifying sight of the burnt fortress bringing you an immense amount of relief at the end of your journey. It was only when you had seen the face of the Dornishman you considered your father figure that you finally allowed yourself to let your guard down fully.

Aemond sighed, closing his eye when he bowed his head. A disappointment at his actions throbbed in his chest. He was a scholar, a trained warrior, he had prepared for battle all his life, and yet when the moment came he had let himself act so irrationally. He knew he was better than this, smarter than all of them, but he was a fool all the same.

Your features softened while you took in the sight of your younger brother. You had always been fiercely protective of him, especially since he lost his eye, and you had been the proudest when he had evolved into the prolific prince who stood before you today. Seeing your dearest brother this way ached your heart, prompting you to rise to your knees and call out his name.

“Look at me,” you urged him, cupping his jaw again. When he had not, you dipped your head to meet his lowered gaze. The air felt cooler on your now exposed chest compared to the heated water. Gooseflesh rose on your skin while your nipples pebbled, though you paid them no mind. Your hands were a welcome warmth on Aemond’s face, which turned to you, unable to resist your sweet voice. “We still have time, Aemond.” You whispered, thumb rubbing at the edge of his scar. “They will pay, for everything. We will get our family back… together.”

Aemond nodded in a trance, lost in the amethyst hues of your orbs that called out to him. A large, calloused hand squeezed your shoulder, a sign of his silent gratitude. He resisted the urge to move his hand lower to your chest, the open view of your flushed mounds tempting him to feel the supple flesh against his palm. A flame started to course towards him, one only you were able to stoke.

Your forehead pressed against his. A nudge of your nose on his. A sweet smile on your lips when his shoulders finally relaxed. Two purple eyes met his good one, and something shifted between the two of you.

There it was again, the stirring in your belly every time he stared at you with a softness he reserved only for his sweet sister. You tried to ignore the aching in your core that started to pulsate, but you suddenly felt so exposed as you sat bare in the stone tub while he was fully clothed. His gaze fell on your pink lips, soft and enticing. Your head tilted ever so slightly toward his, just a hair away from meeting his lips, when the door to the bathhouse opened, which startled the both of you.

You pulled away to look at the woman who had entered, carrying linens for you to dry yourself with. She assisted you upon Cole’s orders, but you asked her to leave when she had properly washed your hair to get a moment alone. Long, raven-colored hair draped across her back, and a pair of emerald eyes matched the green of her dress. Her appearance was striking, and she carried herself with the air of a woman who knew much more than she let on. Alys, she said her name was.

Aemond cleared his throat and stood up from the tub's edge, stepping away from your space. The air prickled at your skin with the loss of his warmth, making you sit back down to dip your exposed flesh into the steaming water. A wary curiosity sparked as you studied how Alys’ eyes met Aemond’s, looking between the pair of them while they seemed to communicate with their gazes. Something burned in your chest at the sight, one that quickly rose to your head as some sort of perturbation. The prince regent is then informed of the council meeting that was due to start soon, and he sighed, before turning to you.

“Sister, I am afraid I must leave you for some matters that require my attention,” he said, to which you nodded at him in understanding. “I shall leave you to the care of Lady Rivers.”

The prince leaned down to plant a parting kiss on your cheek, which would have comforted you if it weren’t for a pair of green eyes that watched you closely, the weight of her stare unnerving and prickly. You felt wary of being left alone with the mysterious woman, but you merely smiled at Aemond before he turned to leave the bathhouse.

The clinking of fine utensils and cups echoed through the dining hall while you supped with Ser Criston, who sat right across from you, and Aemond, seated at the head of the table. Before your arrival, matters between the prince regent and the Hand were tense with their contrasting opinions on their next course of action, but your presence brought a certain lightness into the dark cavern of the stronghold that granted a momentary peace between both men. Light conversation flowed across the dinner table, mostly from you while Criston responded, and Aemond offered some short responses and hums now and then.

“So, Larys left a Rivers woman as Lady of Harrenhal?” you asked, feigning a casual tone in your voice despite the curiosity that urged you to learn all about this bastard. Your eyes shifted from Aemond to Criston, catching how the knight’s gaze flickered to his prince before taking a sip of wine.

“She is a Strong by blood, princess. One of Lyonel’s bastards,” the older knight informed you.

“Oh, I was unaware there were more of them,” you mused, ignoring the look Aemond gave you. As if on cue, Alys entered the dining hall with a fresh jug of wine. Your eyes looked her up and down while she went around the table to pour wine into your cups. When she reached the head of the table, you did not miss the way she stood a little too close to the prince to be considered appropriate. You watched her green orbs meet Aemond’s good eye, giving him another glance that held the same energy you witnessed at the bathhouse, the sides of her thin lips lifting.

Your jaw ticked in annoyance at the smirk the older woman gave Aemond, who seemed to be entranced at her display. His good eye had flickered down to the swell of her breasts when she bent to pour his wine, causing your eyebrows to raise in contempt and to turn to your father figure across from you. Criston hid the way his lips quirked up behind his cup at the look you gave him, shaking his head.

The presence of this mysterious woman left an odd feeling in your chest, even more so around your blood. He always had an affinity for older women, as per Aegon’s words. Back in the Streets of Silk, Aemond would apparently ask for their older madame, turning away the younger whores Aegon would call upon. Was this the same deal? Is this what he truly liked, someone… motherly? You couldn’t even gauge how you felt about it, let alone speak with him about this matter as you sat in his chambers late into the night.

A cup of wine is nursed by your side, its rim traced by your fingertip. Mindless hums reverberated from your chest as Aemond informed you of battle strategies, and what was to come. He was hunched over the map, his back to you, laid on his chaise. Harrenhal was cold as it was barren, haunted by darkness lurking in every corner. You had stolen one of his robes, trading it for your smaller one, wrapping it around your nightgown-clad figure.

“If we stay high, we can patrol over the Crownlands without getting detected,” Aemond said, glazing over the map with an outstretched hand.

“And how do you propose I do that without a dragon?” you asked, taking another gulp of your wine.

“We will find a way,” he promised. His brow raised when you snorted, the early telltale signs of your diminishing sobriety making themselves known. A buzz started to make the top of your head feel lighter, your tongue a little bit looser, and your face warmer. You had mindlessly consumed more than half of the jug of wine, while Aemond had taken mere sips.

This is where you differed, while the younger preferred to keep his mind unmuddied by liquor, you spent a good amount of your nights trying to outdrink Aegon. Aemond had seen you stumble through the halls one too many times, had held your hair back as you spilled your guts all over the flowers. “Easy,” your brother scolded, taking the cup far from your grasp. He sat on the armchair with a sigh, rotating his neck. It clicked with a lean to the side, making the prince grunt.

A silence passed over the two of you. It was deafening, awkward, riddled with an unspoken tension. It irked you, it never used to be like this. Your tongue itched to speak, while your heart panged, silently begging him to say something, anything. You craned your head to take a peek at him, and your younger dragon had his eye closed. His head rested on the back of his seat, legs spread wide, and shoulders relaxed. He looked older, you realized. The war had been harsh, on all of you, but to him especially. Where his cheeks used to be plump with youth, it now was well-defined, sculpted.

“What is it?” he whispered, unmoving. His good eye stayed closed, yet you knew he could see you well all the same. He was always the most perceptive out of all of you, the smartest. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

You fiddled with the strings of the robe, his robe. “There have been some curious whispers about you in your absence,” you muttered, feigning indifference. His eye cracked open only a hair’s inch, the dazzling purple of his eye peeking through his lashes.

“Whispers?”

“Of you and that Rivers lady. They say she had tempted you to her bed so greatly you had no wish to leave Harrenhal to return to your family.” A subtle twitch in his upper lip was the only reaction you were bestowed.

“Tell me, who utters these whispers within our walls?” He’d sat up now, the rigidity in his spine returning as he regarded you. Your gaze was stuck on your fiddling thumbs, willfully ignoring his burning gaze behind you.

You shrugged. “The rats hear all and more, curious little things they are.” An unamused huff left your brother’s lips, though you barely spared him a glance as you rose to your feet, maintaining your casual unconcern. Your half-filled cup of wine was still by his side, and you approached to take it from him, but he had moved it away, teasing, as you reached for it.

“Rats. You of all people would know better than to believe such folly, sister.”

From where you stood, your face was almost level with his. He studied you just as you did him, searching… calculating. You reached for your cup again, brushing against Aemond’s fingers before he let go. The wine was a welcome sting to your insides when you took a big gulp, a calming reprieve from the sudden fluttering of your gut.

“The rats have given us much trouble. Helaena was right, perhaps we should be fearing them more than we do dragons,” you replied, turning away to walk around the room. Aemond was silent behind you, merely watching as you took in the darkened stone of his chambers. It was drab, its austere appearance dampening your spirits, though you figured there wasn’t much designing to do on a castle that was mostly burnt. “You don’t deny it?” you asked him, mentally swatting away the budding swarm in your chest as you awaited his response. Your fingertips ran across the embroidery scattered about, a rather sad attempt at livening up the place. You turned back to Aemond, who was still silent as ever.

“What I do behind closed doors is not of anyone’s concern.”

An odd pang in your chest rendered you unable to retort a clever answer, resorting instead to another gulp of liquid courage. It was odd, the way this conversation was affecting you. What was growing over the years was starting to make itself known, but it cannot be, not yet.

“Not even your own blood?” you whispered.

“I do not appreciate my sister sticking her nose into my endeavors, especially not while we are still stuck in this hellish war.” He was starting to grow peeved, evident in the way his nostrils were starting to flare when he stood. Aemond’s piercing gaze followed you as you continued to pace around. He watched you, caught exactly when you spotted the familiar weapons stored aside. Your brows furrowed in realization, approaching where Blackfyre and Aegon’s catspaw dagger sat. The embellished dagger was hefty in your hand, heavy with the implications of what brandishing it meant. The Valyrian inscriptions glinted in the dim glow of the room as you tilted the metal.

Aemond made no move to take it from you, still cautiously watching. There was an almost accusatory gaze you held when you looked up, confusion and astonishment clear as day in your features.

“When our brother fell from the skies and his armor melted into his skin, it seemed that you had some agenda of your own. Is that not of my concern too?” Aemond’s brows raised in question at the implication of your words, his thin lips lifting into a serpentine smirk, before dropping into a purse of his lips. He shook his head at you, unbelieving at what you were implying. Slow, steady steps were taken towards where you stood, his approach menacing, almost like a hunting predator. You gripped the edge of the table tight, swallowing the growing lump in your throat.

“You question my loyalty? After everything I’ve done for our faction, our family,” the regent spat, earning a frown from you in response. Your blood ran hot in your veins, the same way it did in Aemond’s, thrumming thunderously in your ears. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he infiltrated your space, hot breath fanning your flushed face.

“Haven’t seen much of it since you’ve taken this cursed place. Tell me, has your loyalty been redirected somewhere else then? I am not here to question your tastes, you know that,” you taunted. You held your ground as he chuckled darkly in your face, gritting your teeth when he caged you in between his towering figure, his hands settling on the table behind you.

“A fool you are. Why else are you here for then? To chastise me as though I were still a boy?”

Whatever snarky remark you wanted to bite back at him died on your tongue when his face neared dangerously close to yours. You pushed against his chest, but he was a wall against your weak nudges. With a grunt, Aemond took your wrists into his larger, calloused hands, pulling you flush to his chest.

“Let me go,” you seethed. “Aemond!”

“What? Not so smart now, sister?” he provoked, thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle against his strength. You managed to free one of your wrists off his vicelike grip, quickly grabbing your father’s dagger and pointing it in defense.

This was becoming all too amusing for him, you realized. Aemond merely stepped forward, pressing his chest into the dagger’s sharp tip. His head subtly tilted towards you, taunting.

He wanted to see you break.

The dagger fell to the floor in a clank, no regard for its importance when you grabbed his doublet, pulling him close. Your lips smashed against his in a mess of teeth and tongue, your hands grabbing his silver tresses tight. You brought him in closer by wrapping a leg around his waist, while he clutched onto the back of your head. It was dizzying, you were growing much more lightheaded than you already were. Your knees were starting to grow weak, making you resort to leaning on the wooden table to keep yourself up.

He tasted divine, a taste so addicting yet inexplicable, only slightly tinted by wine. A growing stiffness was poking into your hip, proving this was affecting him just as much as it did with you. Your hand descended with a mission, cupping his bulge. Aemond thought similarly, fondling your perked breast in his larger palm.

All too sudden, a knock kicked you out of your stupor. Aemond pulled away with a curse, turning to voice his wrath at the interruption when the door opened to reveal Alys, a tray of steaming tea in hand.

“My deepest apologies, my prince, princess. I have brought his grace’s nightly tea,” she explained, lacking any actual remorse in her tone. You scoffed in disbelief, dismantling yourself from Aemond’s grip. He had tried to get you to stay, but your scowl let him know that the moment had passed.

“Sister,” he whispered.

“I shall take my leave,” you made known, refusing to look at his pleading look. “Enjoy your tea.”

You avoided Aemond like the plague in the days that came. He had only missed you by a minute when he came to see you in your chambers after returning from the campgrounds, off to gods know where. You took your meals alone, bathed alone, untrusting of the raven-haired woman charged with the care of the castle.

At night, however, the somber melancholy of your isolation found you. You had chosen to seek company with Cole instead, spending more of your time in his chambers when you needed a companion. Aemond had caught you there one night, when he had come to talk strategy with the Hand.

“What is she doing on your bed?” the prince questioned, his tone already raging the moment he entered. You faked sleep while Cole merely sat unbothered as he read the latest parchments.

“Your sister longed for some company, said her own chambers were too lonesome. She welcomed herself into my chambers and finished all my wine,” Criston replied, cocking his head toward the empty jug. You willed yourself to stay still and keep your eyes shut, just until Aemond left, at least.

You had flashed your mother’s lover a sheepish smile when the younger finally left, to which he replied with an unamused shake of his head.

“I dare not ask what scheme you are concocting in that prickly head of yours, but you know I wish to take no part in whatever strife you have with your brother. We have more pressing matters to attend to.”

You didn’t know how to face him after that night, nor did you even want to try to figure out where you stood moving forward. His affections were never hidden from you, quite the contrary. Aemond was always stuck to your skirts throughout your youth, though you always considered them a kinship. In time, you saw the change in him.

It was after that night, when Lucerys had slashed out his eye in the caves of Driftmark. He had grown all too quick afterwards, harsher, smarter, yet his love for you stayed the same, only ever blossoming into a devout adoration. You dismissed his romantic advances as fleeting affections every boy felt when he was reborn a man, but he had persisted. He had nothing to hide from you, not when you had always held his heart. You failed to realize how his faithful attention had been a constant in your life, and with it gone, directed to someone else, it troubled you. It shouldn’t, but it did.

Over time he had spurned odd twinges in your chest, pulling on the strings of your wary heart that left you perplexed, your skin tingling with the beginning embers of a growing fire. You had once dismissed it a sisterly love, familial, but such affections meant little difference to that of a love of man and wife to people like you and him. You were Targaryens after all, you were meant to burn together.

It had always been there, this you were well aware of, simmering beneath the surface of your conscience, but you had refused to let it bubble over. To let it consume you meant to break your own heart. It would never be, your grandsire always told you. You were promised to a Hightower cousin, and Aemond had asked for the hand of a Baratheon girl, bestowed a kiss on all of Borros’ thunderous storms before taking his pick of the litter. You had visibly rolled your eyes at the news of such display, sneering at how insignificant girls would surely giggle and boast of being bestowed a kiss from such a prince.

But now, that cousin whose face you scarcely recalled had perished under the rain of dragonfire, while the Baratheon girl was promised to Aemond no longer. He was yours for the taking, but another obstacle stood in your way.

He had found you after three days, in a place he least wanted you to be. Aemond marched through their military encampments with the intent of surveying their situations after having just returned from patrolling the skies. There you were, sat by a fire with his soldiers. You were surrounded by a good number of them, having offered your support to the men fighting your cause. They were elated to catch a glimpse of their princess, approaching in haste to speak with you. A bubbling laugh echoed through the open air when one of the men had made a jest, unnoticing of your brother’s furious approach. He had dragged you back to the keep, sending you straight to the bathhouse with the instruction of not letting you leave.

To rid yourself of all their muck, Aemond had spat out.

“These are our troops, Aemond. They fight for us, the least I could do is show my face and make them remember who they march for, not hide like some cowardly damsel who chooses to live in the ignorance of her reality. This is my battle just as much as it is yours,” you argued, angrily scrubbing on your reddening skin. He was pacing, taking deep breaths through the damp thickness of the steaming baths. The regent barged through the bathhouse after barking orders to Cole to oversee his duty in the meantime, locking the door behind him.

“A fool’s gesture that was, sister. Our uncle can rain fire on these lands at any moment and I shall not have you out there when the moment comes,” he berated, taking big strides to stand before your submerged form. “You are not to leave the castle, not unless it is with me or Cole.” You rolled your eyes childishly as he pointed a stern finger at you, rising promptly from the water. There was little concern in your mind for your bareness, ignoring the way Aemond had snapped his head to the side to avert his gaze. You reached for a cloth, wrapping yourself, grumbling. The dragonblood in your veins still ran hot, having been granted no chance to simmer down since the twat didn’t spare you a moment alone.

“If I had known mine own brother would be treating me like a prisoner I never should have come here,” you muttered grimly.

“Then why did you?”

Droplets from your hair splattered on Aemond’s face as you briskly whipped around to face him, startling the warrior. “Our king is lost to his burns and milk of the poppy, our sister is haunted, plagued with the grief of her loss. Our family is slowly being torn apart and I cannot lose you to this madness!” you stressed, jabbing a finger into his firm chest. He huffed in sarcastic amusement, shaking his head at you, unbelieving. “I came here because I couldn’t go anywhere else, I didn’t want to go anywhere else. I need you, Aemond, I dare not think of an end to this where you are not by my side.”

Your words struck him, making him turn to you in disbelief. He stared at you, with your flushed face, and wide eyes. Hot tears had started to prickle the corner of your amethyst hues, glazing them over. His hand twitched to cup your face in his, yet he restrained. “You have scarred me, burned me deep with your indifference. You do not need me, you have made that very clear from the many times you have turned me away,” he retorted venomously, making your lips quiver into a frown. How could he be so cruel to you now? Here you were, laying your heart before him, bare and vulnerable, yet he refused to see you. This was all he hoped for, had begged the gods for.

“Of course I need you, I always will! You are my blood, my flesh. We are dragons born of the same fire, the gods have deemed no other bond will be stronger than you and I,” you uttered, pulling him straight into your chest for a kiss. You clung onto him, lest he were to be taken from you again. He was yours, he always had been.

Aemond responded in earnest, gripping the dampened cotton around your waist. He pulled it off of you in one motion, turning you around to press his front into your bare behind.

“Is this what this was, then? Doing all of this for my attention?” he asked, dripping a taunting venom into your ear. He gripped your breasts in his gloved hands, squeezing them in a matter that bordered on pain. You whined as he pinched your nubs, subtly pressing your hips backward. “Were you jealous I had taken another into bed, sister?”

“You are mine,” you stated bitterly, before turning to capture his lips again, biting down hard to the point of bleeding. Aemond grunted, pulling away to bend you over the edge of the great stone tub. His grip was painful as he held your wrists in one hand. You gasped when he delivered a harsh smack to your plump rear, the blooming sting warming your flesh.

“A brat you have always been. You have always found amusement in my torment, have you?”

The prince delivered several smacks afterwards, making you wince at each one. The skin had grown hot from his assault, yet you couldn’t deny the tears of arousal that dripped down your slit. You heard a dark chuckle behind you, his smoothing caress on your reddened arse a welcome reprieve.

“You enjoy this,” Aemond leered, running a gloved finger along your weeping cunt. It was soon replaced by something thicker, hotter. You gasped when his cockhead began to breach you, having been too dazed in pain to notice when he untied his breeches.

His hips snapped into you in an unforgiving pace from the start, giving you no chance to get used to his length. You had stammered to be granted a moment to catch your bearings, but the younger only tutted in refusal, thrusting relentlessly.

“Take it, fucking take it,” he spat out. It was a painful sting to take a cock his size, your body forcefully producing lubrication to ease his intrusion. The rough stone dug into your hips painfully, and your neck strained to keep your head from dipping into the steaming water, but soon enough a warm blossom in your belly started to make itself known, giving way to pleasure. Your pained whines soon morphed into moans, echoing through the vast bathing chambers. “I’ve always known you enjoyed being treated like this. Like a whining whore.”

The memory of his beloved sister being devoured by her sworn knight’s mouth was burned into the back of Aemond’s memory like an itching scar. He had found you at the library then, hidden behind an aisle no one ever frequented, except for him. He was hurt beyond belief, yet the image of your beautiful, blissed-out face was something he would always remember. It was the same look you had now, as he picked you up and fucked you against a stone pillar.

Your mouth hung open as your sweet sounds fell freely, and your breasts bounced in front of him. You clung onto his shoulders for dear life, while his hands left his mark on your thighs. It was utterly debauched, animalistic, the way he was still fully clothed while you were bare as day. Aemond had no regard for who would walk in, or who could hear, better yet, he hoped they would all hear.

“Fuck, Aemond, don’t stop!” you whined, your release drawing near. He felt it too, with the way your walls began to tighten. All too sudden, he stopped, making you let out a sob as the bubbling rise in your belly dissipated. He smirked devilishly at your pouting face, biting on your ear.

“Not yet, princess. Do you think you deserve it so easily? After all you’ve put me through?” he taunted. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close, peppering desperate kisses across his face while subtly moving your hips for any sort of stimulation.

“Please, my love, I’m sorry! Please, please, I need it,” you pleaded so sweetly for him. A triumphant pride swelled in Aemond’s chest. Gone was his headstrong, indifferent sister. He had finally broken you to his will, had realized how much you wanted, needed him. It was all he wanted for so long, for you to stop seeing him like a boy and to start treating him like the man he was. It was all for you, he knew it from the start, he wanted to become the man fully deserving of a woman like you. And here you were now, begging for his cock. At long last, the gods have granted him his wish. He wanted to relish in the moment longer, wanted to tease you a little more. Aemond figured he deserved to do so, after many years you had dangled your affections in front of him like a dog.

He carried you over to a bench situated off to the side, sitting you upon his lap. His body was damp with sweat underneath his leathers, and his breeches were sure to have a mark from the remnants of the bath water you had dripped all over him. It was no matter, not when you eagerly started to bounce on his cock when he prompted you to with another smack upon your rear. “Show me how much you want it then, make yourself come.” The second son had long lost sight of reaching the Seven’s idea of the heavens, but he was sure it didn’t come close to this bliss. Your walls swallowed his length perfectly, a tailored fit just for him. You were babbling nonsense, tears streaking down your cheeks as you continued to ride him.

Alys was no match for you, nor the woman in the brothel he used to blindly stumble into. No, they were placeholders, a temporary soothing to an ache he couldn’t swallow down. It had always been you; it always will be. Everything started to feel right for Aemond, the end to the gods’ grand design was starting to unfold.

You were perfect for him, in all his flaws and his darkness. It was evident in the way you clung to any part of him, had taken hold of his hand to urge him to wrap around your throat. You were made for him, his harshness.

You spilled around his cock after a harsh squeeze on your windpipe, shattering in his arms with a moan of his name. The prince had laid you on your back, knees pressed your chest as your feet dangled over his shoulders. Your mind was far gone as he pounded into your cunny, chasing his release.

Aemond had managed to pull another release from you before his own, spurting hot seed into your walls. He uttered a silent prayer for it to reach your womb, and perhaps then you would truly be his, round with his child. A mixture of your fluids spilled from your slit when he pulled out his softening cock, but he had pushed it back in. Your lover chuckled when you whined tiredly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You were unsure when he had cleaned you or carried you back into the bath. Your mind was clouded with the lingering haze of your coupling, only starting to clear as you leaned on his bare, firm chest in the steaming water. The kisses Aemond bestowed upon you were grounding, reminding you that you were present, and you were his.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” you replied, snuggling closer into the crook of his neck. “You can never hurt me; we are made of the same fire after all.”

2K notes · View notes

blueberrypancakesworld · 7 months ago

Note

Hello dear. I wanted to send a request. Yandere Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife reader. (Baelon/Alyssa/Aegon/Helaena/Aemond/Daeron are their children.) Viserys chooses his first our son Baelon as his heir. There is no dance of dragons. Viserys is not sick.

Our own blood

Viserys I x wife!reader

warning : yandere behaviour, kissing, mention of births, implied murders, implied/mentioned mental problems

Summary : Viserys loved his Aemma she had given him his Rhaenyra...but a dragon of his blood is hungry for more, more of his own blood. Which is why, not quite a decade later, the second queen gave him six children, children to represent love and a legacy to be spoken. But the dragon never leaves his treasure, his wife, the Queen of Westeros, alone.

info : Hi thanks for the request anon, yandere Viserys is just an idea that is very interesting, he is the sleeping dragon that is awakened to bring chaos to the realm. I hope you enjoy reading

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bells of the royal sept rang again that day, like every day and like the years before, but this time they played different notes, notes of the utmost importance.

On this day in King's Landing, the heir to the throne was to be proclaimed, an heir that the people had been waiting for ever since he had been presented, the little boy with the fair hair and dark violet eyes, a Targaryen through and through.

A young prince not quite his twentieth name day and yet beloved by the people, Baelon Targaryen as a tribute to his grandfather, he would wear that name with pride whenever he was called...but above all it was his beloved mother who would call him.

A woman who didn't even belong in the House of the Dragon, a woman his father had taken after his first wife had died, Aemma had given him Rhaenyra, a gift from the gods but no son.

Something he wanted and needed, ,,I dreamed that regents would spring from your womb" he had told her when his wife was first pregnant, his hand resting on her slightly bulging belly gently yet firmly.

A dragon who loved her was like a coin, like a sword with a pointed and blunt side.

The blunt side was his calmness, his serenity, his care for his children, his love for his family and the way he looked at her with such devotion that it was his dragon scales that had captivated her then..but a dragon is a monster not a knight of love.

A dragon with his pointy side was possessive, domineering, power-hungry and above all obsessive with the treasure he loved most, ,,The dragon's blood will watch over you forever, no one will destroy this bond of love....and if they try I have dragons" was his statement as he made the royal procession through the city with her, hearing the roar of Vhagar, the queen of dragons fit for the king who had taken Vhagar after Balerion's death.

Viserys was gentle and waiting at the beginning of their relationship, someone who loved her dearly and to whom she wanted to give children, but after Baelon, after holding an heir, a baby who grew older than Aemma's children, he wanted more.

You could never fully satisfy a dragon, ,,One more prince or princess and I'll never ask for anything from you again" was just one of his feeble lies as she gave him six children and was devoured by the dragon's mouth.

How can you love the man you married under fire and gold when that man became the worst of your blood? His kisses possessive, hands always on you were a gesture of support for others but for her a reminder that he would burn King's Landing to the ground if he was so sure of her.

An obsession that brought her into darkness whenever he was with her, whenever she was in the chamber with her and his touches and kisses did not have the love they once had...and yet he was a Targaryen a man of beauty, a god who flew the greatest dragon and the man she had fallen in love with.

A man she found herself smiling at, kissing him and leaning into him, a man whose appearance and calmness always captured her, especially when he flew with her on Vhagar.

It was like a decade ago when they disappeared to Dragonstone after the wedding ceremony out of love, and came together there in love.

Now, instead of the dragon's cry and fire, it was the bells of the Sept announcing that the king was making a decision, a decision she saw when she saw Baelon and his siblings, ,,The handsome dragons of the realm" she gave of herself and carefully raised up, immediately feeling Baelon's support and giving him a look of thanks.

Her beloved children Baelon the firstborn a son of knowledge and honour the heir to the throne, his sister Alyssa her image more than her father's a princess of music and love of dragons.

Aegon her third son who like his father enjoyed parties and alcohol and valued friends of which he had many, a loyal prince to his siblings.

Her dreaming Helaena with talents for art and dreaming that Viserys took on.

Their last children whose births were long and difficult but whose love never waned Aemond emulated his eldest brother in swordplay and was precise with it and the youngest little Daeron who enjoyed dragons as much as his eldest sister as well as emulating Aegon's loyalty.

They were the princesses and princes of the realm, their children with Viserys and proof of love, but proof that even her stepdaughter Rhaenyra had taken to her heart. She loved her children, but her body would not be able to bear any more children after Daeron's birth.

She had spent several months in bed, with dreams and nightmares dipping in and out of her mind, but even there her children were with her...and Viserys, whose eyes had burned with fire when he heard that she might die.

Several masters and midwives burned that day, a smell that sometimes still lingered in her nose, but Viserys had what he wanted, she was alive and in the dark gown accompanied by her children the queen walked into the throne room.

All rose to look at her with joy and devotion, a few with sadness knowing that the Queen had not fully recovered and others cheered for the royal children but all looked to the throne as the bells rang out, ,,My dear husband" she whispered as she took her place beside Viserys.

The look in the violet eyes of love showed as he pressed a gentle kiss on her temple.

A fact he commanded she was his equal, she was his wife, she is the queen and wore the crown as he did while her children lined up beside the throne all except Baelon whose clothes spoke of alliances.

The black and red robe with the crown and the golden engraved house symbols spoke of his worth, ,,On this day I appoint Viserys first of my name of the House Targaryen and King of the realm, the andals and roynar that my firstborn son Baelon Tararyen is hereby deemed heir to the throne" he proclaimed and the lords and ladies knelt as the roar of dragons was heard and Viserys hand clasped hers lovingly yet firmly.

Her children would go free with dragons everything was open to them and she would take care of her husband, would continue to give Viserys her love despite the fire and the dragon he demanded because in the end he was her king and she was only his second wife the queen...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#house of the dragon #hotd #king viserys #viserys targaryen #viserys x reader #hotd viserys #king viserys x reader #male x female #reader is female

271 notes · View notes

lovelykhaleesiii · 2 years ago

Note

hi there! would you be up to writing smut

Dark!Aemond? something for example with age difference, daddy kink, corruption kink, degradation and breeding? If you are comfortable then Reader could be a Targaryen what would be great but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is perfect too

Twisted, Beautiful Minds.

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Niece!Reader

WORDS: 2,677.

WARNINGS: mentions of warfare/murder, mentions of death-threats, swearing, degradation kink, choking, Daddy kink, corruption kink, breeding kink, manipulation, narcissistic tendencies, male oral receiving [cock sucking], mentions of p in v sexual intercourse.

A/N - you know I'm always down for some dark!Aemond... I want to also dedicate this piece, as a small bday gift to my wonderful friend Mar @aemondsmoon you have been an absolute light for me on this hellsite, and one of my dearest friends... thank you for always being there for me, and thank you for being you. you are an absolute gem, don't ever change. ilysm! 🤍

The turmoil and toils of war had finally come to an end, when Aegon the Elder, your Uncle, had commanded Sunfyre to set your beloved mother, Rhaenyra, and younger brother, Aegon III, to death by dragonfire. Your heart shattered, and mind numb, you were certain your own death was imminent in the moments after: at the very least, your Uncle would punish you with a dragonrider's death... Yet that would not be the case at all.

It seemed other plans had been set in stone. Chained and escorted by the Kingsguard to return to King's Landing once more, where you had only days previous, fled in fear, were you welcomed by the cold stares of the "Green" Council. Your chains removed, as neither the King nor his Mother, had seen you as a threat, you felt no purpose to resist nor to fight back... Your family dead, your will had died along with them.

"Fetch for Aemond. Tell my younger brother that his betrothed has returned."

His stern words felt incomprehensible in your thoughtless mind, lagging to understand the notion. You felt a cool, chill course through your weak body, rigid as though you had turned to stone, and yet, you were still breathing, still ever so present. No one had consulted you on such plans or schemes. And you were certain that Aemond himself would definitively refuse to marry the daughter of a traitor [as you presumed he would justify]. Your Uncle, Aemond, was a formidable man, fought against your late father, and had emerged the victor... And as the war, and the recent imprisoned days had taken its toll on you, your eyes darkened with the lack of sleep, unable to eat a crumb of bread, you did not look as you once had in your frivolous court, as he had once remembered you.

Although, as he sauntered into the room with such poise and stature, a certain charisma of that of a victor oozing about him, with not a single word exchanged, other than a devious smirk supplanted across his once serious face...It seemed there was more to the union than meets the eye.

Since your captive return to King's Landing, a place in which you had once considered your home, felt nothing more foreign. The stone sand walls that you had walked and run through as a child, now looked strange, the unfamiliar symbols of the Seven proudly hung around every available wall and space, gave an ominous feel. The halls seemed less brighter, even during the break of day, with the sunlight blatant in the sky, you instinctively felt as though a shadow lurked around every corner, attentive to your every move.

Dragonless, and defenceless, you were less of a threat than the younger Princess, Jahaera. The King and his Council had deemed you stable enough to roam the castle grounds freely, with a close knight in pursuit, only to ensure your own "protection" [as Aegon would admit that Aemond insisted], although you saw it more as means to deter you from being tempted to run away.

Regardless, Aemond had not spoken a word to you since hearing of the betrothal. He attended dinners with you in sight, although you rarely spoke yourself, mostly pleading and bickering with Alicent to remain in the desolate confines of your chambers. She was incessant about you joining the family, as the union was to be set in a moon's turn.

He dared not even to sit beside you: constantly at opposing ends. Although, there were rare occasions you had caught the younger Prince, brazenly staring at you with his one good eye. Unapologetically, his full attention spanned towards you, even if he had noticed you had become aware, he did not cease gawking.

Something about his looming gaze made you feel uneasy, very much on edge: a dark tinge to his violet eye, his pupils darkened as they seemed dilated. It inevitably made your stomach churn, only forcing you to resign in defeat, often excusing yourself to bed.

And often you were left undisturbed to recluse in your chambers... Although tonight, it seemed you were not alone in your ventures.

Retracing the exact steps you would take most nights, often on your lonesome return to your quarters: this time there was an accompanying sound in the distance, echoing down the hallway behind you. Heavy footsteps that caught your immediate attention. Slowly panning around, the shimmer of his lengthy, silver hair against the pale moonlight that peaked through the open crescents of the corridor, was alluring to your eye. Halting in your tracks, your breath hitched against your throat, all in trepidation, as Aemond effortlessly caught up with you in a few short strides. This was the closest he had ever truly come up to you, his towering height against you, made him even more daunting face to face.

"Running off to bed again, I see. And why is that?"

The sudden eruption of his deep, low voice breaking the stillness of the castle passage, startled you uneasily. You had exchanged many words and conversations with your elder Uncle before, during an ancient time long before the Dance had spurred. Although, the dynamics had inevitably changed, blood had been shed viciously and cruel words spat. Despite the same Valyrian blood coursing through your veins as of your betrothed, you felt solitary in their surrounding presence.

"I-I lost my appetite, U-Uncle. I wish to retire for the night," You aimlessly stutter, too weak to hold eye contact with Aemond, whose gaze remained fixated on you. His vibrant lilac orb luring over every inch of your timid body.

"Do you think it wise to roam the castle your lonesome self? Has the war not taught you otherwise? Is my niece still that same stupid, little whore I have known?"

His harsh remarks shadowed by that familiar, sly grin struck across his slim face, was plenty to furnace an incoming reaction from you, your blood boiling beneath your tender skin.

"Ah- tongue tied now, princess? Have I struck a chord with you, hmm? Mayhaps you are as weak as your father was... Now, how would he feel knowing you are to marry me? That I'll fuck his little girl, like the common whores he saw."

Your mind had no correlation to your hand, and yet the simmering rage that blistered through your body sent your mind to abyss. The small palm of your hand, strikingly latched across Aemond's face furiously. And yet, although a sharp stinging sensation poured across your hand, Aemond remained unfazed and sturdy. It seemed you had smacked the grin across his face, and in its stead, that familiar, unnerving dark tinge in his eyes scorned across at you.

Before you knew it, Aemond gripped your sides firmly, forcing your body forward, as he harshly shoved you against the cold, stone wall.

"You think that wise, whore? After the mercy I fucking showed you. I could have your fucking hand for that, or worse your head. My pretty wife's head on a spike, I'll have it right outside my window."

The cruelty that oozed from his precise lips was relentless. You wanted to burst into tears or more, burst into flames there and then...

"Do you know how long I have waited to have you under my very touch? All the sacrifices I made, the arguments I fought against my own Council to keep you alive? Ungrateful fucking bitch. Did your Daddy not teach you to be a good, obedient girl?"

One of Aemond's calloused, rough hands reached up hastily, his long fingers wrapping just so lightly around your throat, as his thumb gently stroked at your lips. His viable eye ogling tentatively over your mouth, smacking his lips innately.

"I'm your fucking Daddy now. Teach you how to be a proper lady, and a good fucking wife. I'm going to fuck that pretty pussy of yours, till you are dripping of me. I'll have you begging like a pathetic, stupid whore. I'll fuck you till I have heirs of my own, till I see fit that you have disgraced your extinct, traitorous bloodline."

"A-Aem, U-Uncle-" You breathlessly whimper in fear: freshly, swelled tears glaze your vision, as they begin to clear with each shedding streak.

"What did I just fucking say? I'm not your Uncle anymore, bitch. I'm your fucking Daddy. You would be helpless without me. Probably dead without my doing. You fucking owe me."

"Y-Yes-" Another breathless whimper, although Aemond's grip loosened, his other hand began to slowly move its way over towards your breast. His uninjured eye moving in motion with his hand, eagerly wandering over your bust. That same, very hand, began to keenly grope at your plush side, kneading at your breast tenderly, it felt foreign and sensitive under his strange touch.

"All fucking mine... Finally. Did you really think, I would let some insolent lord have you to himself? I'd start a war for you, I won the war for you. And now you're going to repay me, just so-"

A mindless moan flew out of your wet lips, catching you abruptly by surprise, and by the looks of it Aemond, as his blackened pupil dilated with a ravenous hunger, his ears pricking and leaning forward in delight.

"I'll have you moaning for more, precious. Now on your fucking knees-"

Even with the hatred that roared deep within your belly, you felt reluctant to retaliate, as you knew Aemond would effortlessly overpower you. As he had in your youth, when you were caught in a brawl with him, often ending with him wrestling you to the ground. And after his detailed spill of such vile threats, you dared not to risk the second chance of life, you had been granted.

Your knees hit the concrete floor with some brutality, although you regained from the ache. As you steadied your propped position, your hands gripping tightly at Aemond's slim waist, he began to undo his grey, washed out trousers.

The sheer sight of his cock, was intense enough to have you questioning whether you could even take him. Although slim in girth, his length was extraordinary. A reddened tip just oozing lusciously with a white, clear film glistening over the crown.

"Suck Daddy real good, bitch. Show me that, that mouth has other good uses than for talking back."

Your attention lurking from below, dropping from Aemond's face to his cock and back up once more to his face: the sudden change in his mood shifting was palpable. The momentary, light-hearted look of ecstasy dismantled as a cold, unsettling gaze resumed across his handsome face, lingering over your kneeled state.

"Make me fucking repeat myself one more time, whore and I'll treat you worse than a whore. I'll have you forget that you are a Targaryen princess."

Aemond's large hands found their way at the base of your skull, teasingly stroking your loose strands away from your face, within a few seconds the sudden shove towards him, left you physically speechless. Your mouth slightly agape, was enough for Aemond's stiffened, pulsating tip to propel its way into your tight mouth. The friction of his hard cock against your silky, warm flesh inside, was enough to set Aemond's breathing into a speedy pace. Lean chest heaving, the mindless groaning on his behalf was somewhat alluring. You had never seen nor heard such sounds or vulnerability in Aemond before.

"F-Fuck, that feels so fucking good- Just as I prayed to the Gods. I'm going to make your mouth so numb, so fucking filthy of me, you'll be tasting me still in the months to come."

No coherent words exchanged from below his waist, only muffled moans and breath hitches, as you sulked with crave. As much as it infuriated you, pained you to admit, the feeling of Aemond's rigid, throbbing cock in your mouth, was elevating. You had to admit, in your youth, previous to the blood that had been shed, you had a childhood feverish crush on your elder Uncle, although thought it unlikely that anything would flourish from it.

"Seven Hells. Such a pretty whore, with a pretty mouth. J-Just the p-prettiest whore in the Seven Kingdoms."

With each plunge, rhythmically bobbing backwards and forwards, the raw taste of Aemond's cum, tastefully filling your mouth to capacity, as a mixture of his reside and your own saliva oozed from your crevices. The dreading thought of being caught in such a contentiously vulnerable position, especially before being wedded, was disturbing enough, for you were not yet widely favoured by the Council...

"Ughh- Swallow and get up, whore."

Self-disgust stirred nauseatingly in the pit of your gut, as you reluctantly devoured small mouthfuls of Aemond's load, almost convincing yourself you would retch it all up in a matter of seconds. Much to your relief, you remained poised, meekly wiping away the mess across your lips, shying away from Aemond's unmoving regard. As you regained your normal pace of breathing, Aemond lent a hand over, grasping your undivided attention. With such ease, Aemond aided you, lifting you up to stand, before confining you closely between the wall and his heated body once more, closing whatever space was made between.

"Now let's see what that cunt has to offer."

His skilful hands hiking your layered gown up, making way for his arms to snake around your bare thighs, lifting you idly off the ground.

"Can't wait till the wedding to tarnish you, I've waited long enough."

A sudden bolt of lightening pain shot from within your inner thighs, as your tight walls stretched out ceaselessly to accommodate, as Aemond shoved his rigid cock inside. Your back flattened against the sandstone wall, its texture rough against the delicate silk of your gown. Burying his length deeper and deeper with each harsh thrust, his heavy balls collided with your silky folds as he vigorously pumped himself back and forth. His pace, although rough, remained steady. His raw, sensitive tip pummelling at your cervix, felt scorching inside your lower belly.

"And if I fuck you so good, that you begin to swell with my child... What would your dead family think of their precious daughter then, huh? These tits belong to me now, and the mother's milk that comes with it. Your entire being belongs to me now. That babe in your belly will be all because of me, and you'll fucking love every bit of it."

"I-I owe you my l-life, D-Daddy-"

The words mindlessly slipped from you lips, and yet it felt instinctual to say. As Aemond's mouth lapped at the sensitive crook of your neck, you felt the smirk of his grin against your skin, his sharp teeth faintly biting at your soft flesh.

"That's right, baby. That's so right my needy, little slut. You have a Daddy now that can really take care of you, protect you... Love you."

The epitome of his words, the calm depth in his voice, had reached its glorifying peak, as Aemond's hot load shot up directly into you, reverently coating your insides. Like some royal orchestra in unison to his final thrust, did a growling moan escape his lips, followed by an whisper of a swear. Leaning his exhausted, heavier mass over you, as he safely guided your legs back down to the surface, his breath densely hot against your ear, his outstretched palms cladded against the wall for support.

"Clean yourself up, Y/N... Wouldn't want anyone else to see you as the whore that you are, and get any ideas-"

His heavy breathing made his voice less formidable and more husky. Eyeing over your form, as you once more scoured and polished up the mess he made between your thighs, with the inner layer of your gown. You simply nodded in response to his demand, before hastily attempting to rush back to the confines of your quarters.

Yet, a firm pull tugged at your elbow, causing you to halt in your tracks, unavoidably.

"I will seek you out again tonight... Be ready for me."

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/itbmojojoejo

2K notes · View notes