#posessive aemond

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (I)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 1,645

CW: childbirth, Aegon being Aegon, Bullying, child abuse, fear of the dark, refrences to torture, loving parents, oc is described to have brown hair, streaked with silver and purple eyes

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire charecters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all charecters are his  except for my OC          

When Rhaenyra fell pregnant for a second time, she knew it would be different.

For the birth of Jacaerys, her pregnancy was followed with mass celebrations, house Veleryon showering her with gifts, proud that a child with Velaryon blood would sit on the iron throne. But after his birth, the celebrations ceased. Whispers swept through the court, questioning his birth. But after a few months, many came to the agreement it was his grandmother Rhaenys Baratheon’s blood shining through, she once looked more Baratheon than Targeryen and the child was merely taking after her.

But then she fell pregnant again, and though she was once more greeted with celebrations, the court held its breath.

One child born with the Baratheon looks was one thing, genetics was a mystery and it was pure chance he had brown hair and eyes.

But if this child too had the ‘Baratheon looks’ then it would all but confirm the rumours queen Alicent spun.

But that was not why Rhaenyra felt this pregnancy to be different, unlike her first pregnancy, she had different symptoms, morning skinniness, new cravings, and where before she had always had clear skin she was getting pimples and spots. She hoped for a girl, having always wanted a little sister, and now she would have a daughter. She had only ever imagined having girls, and though she was not disappointed at having a boy when the masters spoke of their predictions of it being a girl, she got a little jump in her step.

So, when she went into labour, whilst the court held its breath waiting for the legitimacy of her children to be confirmed, she held her excitement over having a daughter.

The day of her labour was not cheerful, the skies were grey and cloudy and when her contractions began rain fell from the sky, a storm from Stormsend having reached KingsLanding.

With the wind rattling against the windows, and thunder striking down from the sky, the family waiting outside, Viserys pacing the halls. Alicent biting her nails. This labour was tough, though Jacaerys birth had been easy, this had taken double the time his had, her screams, louder than even the storm raging outside. And when it all stopped the family feared the worse.

The young prince Aemond, only eighteen moons old had awoken, screaming insisting he is with his mother. Only to arrive just in time to hear his niece's screams and his eldest sister's laughter.

He rushed into her room, not even allowing time for his father to check on his daughter, before jumping up (as well as a toddler could) and sitting next to his sister insisting on holding his niece. Tired from the labour Rhaenyra agreed.

When her father and Alicent finally entered, they were quick to approach. Alicent caught a glimpse of black hair streaked with silver.

“A girl?” Viserys questioned, smiling down at the babe in Aemonds arms.

Nodding, Rhaenyra smiled “Aemma” she declared, causing a delighted laugh to leave Viserys mouth.

“She looks just like her, the Arryn genes are strong with her it seems, she even has your mother’s eyes.” And she did, Arryn blue eyes, not violet, as she had dreamed, but perfect.

She had attempted to take Aemma back from  Aemond, but he had not let go, simply smiling and babbling to his niece, his Aemma.

As the years went by Aemond continued to stay with Aemma, scarcely letting her stray from his sight, his hand always holding hers. Where one was, the other was always near. Being the only two without a dragon, his never hatching, and her own destroyed along following the storm on the day of her birth, they had the same lessons, with no dragon lessons, they were very rarely apart.

Aemma had grown into a sweet, beautiful, and intelligent girl. Her looks compared to that of her great-grandmother, Daella, alongside her sweet nature. She had an innocence around her, being the middle child and only girl of her mother, her mother wished to preserve the child-like wonder for her daughter, wishing to grant her daughter the childhood of being the heir and the only child of a king stolen from her. Aemond was all too pleased to keep her like this, wanting to preserve her wonder, her need for him. Though book smart, the sheltered life she lived kept her from the real world. She was even protected from rumours, though they still were whispered, all desired to keep her from them.

She was a kind girl and underserving of the cruelty of court, but even that did not protect her from her family. Alicent had always been fond of her, always allowing her near her children, being kind, braiding her hair and even commissioning gifts for her. She was close to Heleana, the pair, whenever Aemond left her alone, often found each other’s company. Aemma was one the few people to share her interest in insects, even going out of her way to collect any that she thought Heleana might enjoy. But Aegon and her brothers were another story. Aegon was a jealous person, envying his niece for the kindness his mother never found him, so he took it out on her.

When Jacaerys let slip Aemma’s fear of the dark, an idea struck him.

The black cells.

Aemma rarely slept alone, with Aemond often sneaking in and sleeping with her, hating the moments apart even when they sleep. When he was sick, they often slept apart, his fear of catching his illness, however little or contagious it was. And her chambers always had candles lit for when she did sleep, a reassurance that whatever lurked in the dark was stopped by the glow of a candle.

Aegon waited for Aemond to fall ill, for a time he knew she would be alone. And snuck into her chambers, her brothers by his side.

It was the dead of night, the boys aged 9 and 6 tired but willing to please their uncle, snuck into her rooms and carried her through the keep down to the third level of black cells.

Being a deep sleeper, she didn’t wake once, not even flinch when Aegon picked her up and then dumped her in the cells.

They had run off giggling, thinking it a brilliant prank, and a way to cure her of her fear, as Aegon put it.

They had thought it would be overcome morning, that she would wake in the dark before finding the door and leaving.

None of them expected her to be locked in there for a week, they did not know the doors were locked and only opened from the outside.

The keep was in disarray searching for her, neither boy spoke up, fear of their punishment keeping them.

Aemond was driving everyone mad, ordering and screaming for her to be found. He was normally a shy quiet boy, unsure of himself. But with his Aemma missing all that was left of him was a madman.

The rest of the keep was in disarray. All guards were on the lookout for the princess, searching high and low. She had completely disappeared, without a trace.

The boys were growing nervous, they couldn’t admit to what had been done and they feared the black cells too much to return and retrieve her.

Aemma had woken in complete darkness, she could even see her hand it was so dark.

She could hear screaming as if they were her own, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even notice as she crawled forward in her small cell and pounded on the door, begging to be let out. Or as she threw her guts up after hours of screaming and pounding.

She did notice when it all went quiet. When even her screams stopped when the screams of the criminals being tortured turned quiet.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, there was no way to tell day from night.

She slept when she collapsed, her tears lulling her into a tormented sleep, her stomach empty and churning.

She had no food nor water, the dungeon master had no clue she was down here, and no one did.

 Not until a week had passed and Aemond dreamt of the black cells. She had refused to rest till she was found, but collapsing from exhaustion lead to his dream, leading his startling awake, and his racing to the cells. Ser Criston Cole was quick to follow him, though he did not care for the girl he still had a duty as a kingsguard. She was found after three hours of searching, three hours of Aemond shouting and ordering guards to search every cell on every level.

Ser Harwin Strong found her, he and her mother had, like Aemond, not stopped, fearing the worse, had not rested. When he found her she was sitting in the corner, head between her legs, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face. She was thin, with chapped lips, her face red and puffed with her never-ending tears.

She screamed when the light poured in, shuffling back into her corner.

“Aemma” Harwin breathed, before alerting the rest of the guard, Aemond came running over, taking her into his arms.

“Aemma” he cooed, taking her hand, she had flinched back from Harwin when he took her hand, but with Aemond she took it, and jumped in his arms, tears falling from her eyes once more. “it’s ok…it’s ok… your safe now” he spoke softly, stroking her hair.

Maesters were quick to attend to her, she was weak and dehydrated. And her mind was still in a panic. She refused to let go of Aemond, using him as a shield when her brothers and Aegon paid her a visit.

She never said who had done it, but her distance and new timid nature around her brothers and uncle was proof enough for Aemond.

But he couldn’t do anything, he was a victim of their bullying. Though they never did something similar or remotely as cruel again, Aemonds crazed state was enough for them to leave Aemma and him alone, at least until the pink dread.

a/n more of an intro chapter, half edited

next part

[zkvry]

My Lady | Possesive!Aemond Targaryen x Targ!Fem!Reader

Summary : You provoke Aemond, who is prone to jealousy

Warnings : red flag behaviour, some violence towards the end, jealous and posessive Aemond. Slightly dark towards the end.

Additional Information :

> standalone from HOTD storyline (there are no spoilers) > written in second person perspective > 1232 words | 9 minutes

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Aemond sipped on wine mindlessly as he watches you interact with Lords of noble houses. It was clear that they were trying to woo you, in hopes to have your hand in marriage.

His only seeing eye narrows with distaste, his lips pursed.

From afar, you mindlessly nod at whatever the man was saying, sipping on your wine to keep yourself busy.

Aemond had seen a few men approach you. It was obvious that they had taken to your beauty. His right hand had clenched around his wine cup, and his smile was gone as he watched the scenario play out. His eye remained fixed upon you, unblinking.

His eye was filled with an angry glare, his lips had pressed into a hard line, he was jealous, and did little to hide it.

you were finally able to run off from the man that had occupied your attention longer than you had hoped. Walking with haste, you approach the Royal Table, isolated from the rest and telling of your royal status.

You plop yourself down next to Aemond, sighing in relief.

Aemond sees your approaching figure, and softens his gaze, his eye hiding the fury he was feeling only moments ago. His mouth pulls up into a faint, pleasant smile.

"Did anyone bother you, my lady?" His voice quiet and monotonous, yet there was a hint of concern in his voice.

"I continuously, have been steering away from marriage proposals. I do not know how much longer I can entertain this," You chuckle humorlessly, hiding your face in hands with exasperation.

Aemond chuckles lightly at your reaction, a tone of amusement evident in his voice. "So it seems, my lady is popular?"

You took it upon yourself be forward, a small smirk on your lips. "Well, yes. your lady is popular".

Your words made him smile softly, a hint of his dimples showing. Unsure of how to respond, a slight blush appears on his face. His eye remains fixed upon your own, for there was a sense of appreciation, admiration, and respect that very few people can evoke.

"Do I have any competition?" He asks softly, his voice merely a whisper as he entertains your teasing.

"Yes. Yes, you do," you lean closer to him, subtly pointing at a few noble lords in the crowd.

"By that table, we have Cregan Stark. He is noble and a gentleman. I almost fell for him, truth be told-" You chuckle, hearing Aemond breathed in sharply, sounding constrained.

"-And over there, is Tyland Lannister. His house is one of the richest in all Seven Kingdoms, he said he would buy me a castle and build the largest dragonpit the world has ever seen. But he is arrogant," You continue your teasing, wondering how far you could push him.

Aemond turned his head, following the direction of your finger. His lip frowned for a moment, before he looked at you again, unimpressed.

"The Northmen and the Westmen are both powerful and wealthy. But I can buy you a castle and build you a dragonpit, too."

He chuckles - "And I am not arrogant."

Aemond gives you a sly smile, his pride evident.

Your eyes study him. "No, you are not arrogant.. You are cunning, loving, and very handsome," You trail off, a certain twinkle in your eye.

"-but stubborn!" You point an accusing finger at him, a playful smile on your lips.

Aemond chuckles at your accusation. His eye brightened with glee while his grin grew a tiny bit wider. "You know me well, my love."

"Cunning, loving, handsome, stubborn.. and proud." He repeats it back to you. "Are my qualities what attracted you to me?" He asks you with a teasing tone in his voice, his eye twinkling with mischief.

"You wish! you would be the luckiest man alive if you had me as your wife" You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

Aemond chuckles, while his cheeks took upon a slightly redder hue. He takes his finger and rests it under your chin, pulling it nearer to his face as he leans closer to you.

"I am only the most blessed man because I have you," He spoke in High Valyrian, his words easily putting butterflies in your stomach. Your heart drums in your chest at your closeness.

You narrow your eyes, not once breaking away from his hypnotic gaze. A sly smiles creeps onto your face. "What makes you think you have me already, hm?"

Aemond's top lip twitches slightly, curving into a smirk as he sees your sly smile and narrowed eyes.

"The way you look at me, the way you talk to me, the way you behave around me," He speaks without missing a beat, his eye still trained on yours. His gaze falls to your lips, returning back to your meet your eyes - his pupils dilated.

Aemond paused for a second, and leaned in to whisper in your ear, his voice sultry and deep. "You love me, just admit it."

Your smile only grows wider as he lists down the things about you. You try horribly to keep your emotions in check as the your heart beats loudly in your chest, feeling tingly in your stomach. Biting your lip, you lean into his ear.

"I'm sorry, but I have marriage proposals to accept" You pull away, the faintest of red on your cheeks. Still, you did not want to back down. Your words were a harmless effort to rile him up, and rile him up you did.

Aemond's heart started to beat heavier and quicker, his eye shimmered with jealousy, narrowing to fix his gaze on you. His lips curved in a sneer, his gaze predatory. Aemond pulled you towards him with force, holding you by your wrists as he brought his face threateningly close.

In your shared mother tongue, he softly spoke, his voice firm and threatening. "Would you accept someone else's proposal?"

You give him an impish smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "What would you do if I did?"

Aemond's breathes become staggered as he holds on with restraint. His face appeared filled with wrath, his voice lowered with an iron determination. His hands tightens around your wrist, pulling you to his hard chest.

He leaned forward, his other hand clamped around the back of your neck. His voice firm and serious - "I will kill anyone who dares to marry you, for you are mine, my love. Only I hold your heart."

Your hand is turning white from the deadly grip he has on your wrists. Your faces merely inches from each other as he holds your neck firmly. You feel his hot breath on your face, seeing this pupils blown with desire and rage. You smirk devilishly, you had him right where you wanted him.

"Would you claim me as yours?" You whisper lowly, your voice enchanting. Your eyes were half-closed with desire.

Aemond's eye gleamed again, angry and full of wrath.

His voice was filled with dominance and authority, "Yes." He replied confidently, as he stared directly into your eyes. "You are mine, my love. I will claim you, mark you…" He whispered, his eye roaming your figure with hunger.

His lip sneered with ferocious determination, as he uttered - "By the Gods.. you will have our children, and I will make you forever loyal and bound to me, and to our house."

[its-actually-minicika]

Imagine 02

You've been avoiding Aemond for a whole week. That was the adamant truth of it.

In your defense, there was hardly anything you could say to him, while remaining neutral and polite about it.

The speech he gave at the dinner table, when his father announced your engagement with his nephew, Jacaerys, was shocking, low and disrespectful - even for him.

His 'final tribute', as he so called it, not only put Jace's legitimacy into question, but strode to poke at your honor, as well.

"And to my dearest Lady," He had said, "Who'd rather stay a Riverland cunt, than bear a true Targaryen name."

His harshness and impetuous words were the last straw for your betrothed, who marched forth and punched him straight in the jaw, despite his attempts to be prim and proper the entire night.

You recalled the ease with which Aemond pushed him away, schooling his features into a proud and arrogant smirk - one that faded away within a second, the moment he saw your hurt and angered look.

You merely shook your head, letting out a huff through the welling of tears, and made your way back to your Quarters, followed close behind by Jace.

Pleasantries were exchanged with him, heartfelt goodbye's were said - it would be a while yet until your wedding would take place, and, as his mother considered then, it would be best for them to take again to Dragonstone, until the animosity between her and the Queen's sons would simmer down, allowing for curteous conversation to haul its place.

For the first time in forever, you felt completely alone.

Whenever Aemond would appear at the table to break fast or bread with you, you'd elegantly excuse yourself, not even sparing him a second look.

And the Prince felt broken, in such agony and despair. He could count on one hand the amount of times he saw your shadow linger, the times he heard your skirts kiss the stone grounds which your feet carried you over.

Such was the way of things, until one fated night, when neither of you could find sleep - only then did Aemond corner you in the dark, secluded library. Only then did he turn so red in the face, you humorously thought he matched both your Houses' banners.

"You've been avoiding me. And I need you to stop."

His tone of voice ought to have vexed you. For who was he to command you so?

You turned around to face his gaze, and promptly raised your head at him.

"Some might say you now reap what you have sown, my Prince."

His shoulders slouched forward - and if you didn't know him so well, such movement would have gone unnoticed. Gingerly, he tried again.

"You've not once called me that. Not even when it was expected."

"People have a way of surprising you sometimes. Wouldn't you agree?"

He pursed his lips tightly, and lowered his lavander glare. Half a heartbeat later, and a drawn-out breath in, Aemond Targaryen fell to his knees.

Deep creases marred over his forehead, his silky hair having fallen out of place. He dared not to look at you, and instead trailed his eye over the details of your blue dress.

"Your silence cuts me. Deeper than a thousand blades."

His able words had made you scoff. You were tempted to praise his silver tongue, and quirk an eyebrow at his attempted poetry: after the stunt he pulled, it was a wonder he knew how to speak so sweetly.

Still, you settled on biting your inner cheek, in favour of listening to him further.

"I shall beg you on my knees if you so desire. But... torture my heart no further."

Quietness ensued a while, until you thought of an appropriate reply.

"I thought we were friends."

"We are, My Lady. We always have been -"

"Clearly, I was wrong." You assertively interjected, "Gods, Aemond, how can you say such a thing?"

His face was every bit as hurt as you imagined your own to be.

"What you said at dinner..."

"Was very wrong on your behalf, and I apologize. I deserve no less a punishment, but please - Please grant me release and forgive me."

"You bring forth foul rumours of my future husband's legitimacy, and put everything into question. You tried to hurt him, and by extension, me." Breathless from the intensity with which you spoke, you pinched the bridge of your nose to calm your aching nerves. "It's not enough to be sorry for what you said to me. You must regret what you said in regards to my future family, too."

For the first time that night, Aemond's eye shot back up, and his swirling orb came in direct contact with yours. Confusion and anger were etched into his sharp features, and the Crown Prince fought to stay composed as he spoke.

"You cannot mean to tell me... you actually intend on marrying that bastard."

Ired far beyond belief, you opened your mouth to face his allegations, but Aemond's minestrations were faster than yours.

"You see no problem in becoming the Realm's laughing stock, in moving to Dragonstone to mother the Strong's bastards?"

It was your turn to feel your cheeks catch aflame. Your face twisted into a painful scowl, and you bravely took a step ahead, pushing out your chin out to openly defy him.

"Jacaerys will be King of the Seven Kingdoms. Our offspring will be anything but bastards."

Before you knew it, Aemond rose up from his taciturn pose, towering over you, as he pushed you onto the cold, stone wall. His face mirrored the expression he wore not a week prior, and the man nodded in understanding, before tracing your jaw with his calloused finger.

"There is nothing I won't do for you.. I would carve my heart out and bear it in front of you. If you won't see to reason, then I will make you understand."

Your mouth slouched open, and your eyebrows furrowed in grave turmoil. All the colour drained from your face. "... Excuse me?"

"After all these years," Aemond huffed, "do you still not understand? I love you. I have loved you... ever since we were children."

You jerked your face away from him, and closed your eyes in disarray. You chewed on your bottom lip for but a moment, and forced yourself to stare at him again. "I'm marrying Jacaerys." You whispered lowly, despite your inner certainty, "And there is nothing that can be done about it now."

Aemond growled - animalistically, possessively - all over something he could never have. His hand tried to rest over your cheek, but you sternly pushed him away, widening the distance between your two, heaving bodies.

"No, Aemond." You chastised in vain, as you felt his arms snake around your form again. "No good will come out of this. And you know it, too."

"Hmm..."

"You're to be betrothed, as well." You halfheartedly reminded him. "And when you meet with the Baratheon girl, you'll think yourself very silly for ever wanting this - for ever wanting me."

"To Hell with the Four Storms." He gently whispered into your ear, "All my life I fulfilled my duty. I will not be denied the one thing I desire most."

With one final push and pull, you wiggled yourself free of his scorching embrace. "The hour is very late. I'm going to bed." You declared in your best neutral tone.

Aemond remained hammered in place. His erratic breath accompanied your hurried footsteps and swish of your dress - until none of the two echoed throughout the narrow hallway anymore.

"Ziry iksos issa ao jāhor nykeōragon hembar naejot mēre tubis, issa jorrāelagon... Se nyke jāhor zālagon glaesagon... qilōni elsvōk issa hen melaestōr ao."

For Aemond would not renounce you so easily. That was the adamant truth of it.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Traded Posession

Dark!jacaerys x reader

A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭

Pt 2 here

TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink

word count: 1,656 words

They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.

The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.

The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s

men are the ones to find you after your

failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.

This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.

You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.

When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”

Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.

A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.

“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.

“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.

“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”

You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.

“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”

The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”

“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”

You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.

“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.

You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.

“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.

“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.

“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.

“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.

“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.

The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”

Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…

“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.

Stupid like biting his cock off.

He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.

“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”

You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”

Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”

You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.

“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”

“Over what, your Grace?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.

“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.

“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”

“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.

“Say my name when I fuck you.”

“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.

“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.

“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.

“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[cambion-companion]

Hiiiii I am ABSOLUTELY obsessed with your Aemond fics and they are literally getting me through the day because oooofffff are they so wonderful to look forward to!!! I was watching this show the other day and one of the scenes just got me thinking of how interesting it would be to see Aemond in it. I just wanted to request something if that’s alright with you? Just reader admits to not being jealous or doing crazy things like threatening others for flirting with her because she knows Aemond’s crazy about her but Aemond thinks of it that she doesn’t want him the same amount as he does so decided to make her jealous by dancing and flirting all night with Alys/or someone other lady and instead of getting angry like Aemond wanted she gets incredibly sad and hurt by him. Plan backfires and Aemond realizes he fucked up. Even better if they’re married and he does this dumb shit because we love a groveling obsessed Aemond trying to make up to his wife for all the mistakes he makes

Thank youuuuuu and keep loving Aemond as much as you do because it is EVERYTHING

Again, I created a drabble hehehe, we love a quick read!

This definitely serves both angst and fluff so buckle UP and yes I am spoiling you guys...2 fics in one day!

Aemond x reader | angst to fluff | jealous Aemond | posessive Aemond

You smiled up through your eyelashes at the noble lord who’d grabbed your attention, insisting on engaging you in flirtatious banter.  All around the two of you, couples danced with lively abandon to the swelling music.  He was handsome enough, you thought tiredly, casting your eyes about the crowded room for your lover.  Aemond was nowhere to be seen and with an imperceptible sigh you nodded and smiled at the overeager lordling.

“Excuse me, a moment, will you?”  You had spotted your prince, his silver hair contrasting in the swirling color of dancing people.  Touching the elbow of the rather crestfallen man, you departed, weaving your way over to Aemond.

He looked at you, rather aloof, as you approached.  His violet eye displeased upon your face, the other eye covered by his preferred black leather patch.

“Having fun, Lady Y/N?”  Aemond’s voice, though low, was cutting. “That Lannister cub seemed entranced by you.”

“Oh please, Aemond.”  You pried his rigid fingers open from the fist he’d made, interlacing them with your own.  “You know I am wholly yours, heart and body.”

“Hmm.” Came the terse reply.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

He didn’t answer, instead Aemond continued to stare across at the unsuspecting man who you’d been speaking to.

You rolled your eyes, releasing his hand abruptly. “Fine, be sour. I plan on enjoying my evening.”

With a toss of your heavy hair over a shoulder, you stomped away rather ungracefully, almost immediately running into another eager lord.

“May I have this dance?”  The young man asked, silver eyes twinkling.

You glanced back at Aemond, his eye practically sparking fire with the heat of his gaze.

“Yes, I’d love to!”  You graced the nobleman with a winning smile as he led you onto the dancefloor.

He was an excellent dancer, his hands firm upon your waist, his steps light and quick.  Tommin Greyjoy, from the Iron Islands he introduced himself.  Tommin quite enjoyed talking about only himself and before long you instinctively began to tune him out, beaming and nodding up at him each time he paused for breath.

You were quick to duck away once the song ended, making up a hurried excuse about needing water and scurried over to the drink table, grabbing a goblet from a passing servant.  Glancing around, you saw Aemond almost immediately.  He was chatting with a short curvy young woman, with red hair that tumbled in ringlets down her back.  Her amble bosom was straining against the pale blue corset she wore, and the way she looked at the Targaryen prince as she spoke made your teeth grind.

Your brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as you watched Aemond lean closer to her, far too close for your liking.  To your chagrin, another flower of a girl joined them, her delicate fingers coming to clasp Aemond about his wrist as she laughed at something he’d said.  He made no move to remove her hand.

Your heart dropped.  It became hard to swallow.

Aemond turned his head, feeling your attention upon him.  His eye met yours, but you quickly averted your gaze to the ground.  Your lips tugged down into a frown, the infuriating feeling of tears beginning to make your eyes burn.

Setting your goblet carefully back onto the table, you walked to the edge of the room where you stood observing the suddenly lurid scene of revelers. You hugged yourself, maintaining a neutral expression as yet another young man approached you asking for a dance.

“No, I’m afraid I feel rather unwell.”  You declined, shaking your head.

“May I retrieve something for you?”  He asked politely, looking mildly concerned at your wan face.

“That’s not necessary.”

He left you alone.  You sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to the gods.

You spied Aemond once again with those same two women, he was paying them attention but kept glancing over at you in the corner.  His expression had morphed from one of vindictive pleasure to barely concealed worry.  You watched him excuse himself from the ladies, peeling one of their hands off his arm before striding purposefully toward you.

Aemond came up to you just as another lordling attempted to ask you for a dance. “No.”  The prince growled, answering for you.  “She is not interested.”

The man looked around for the intruder, opening his mouth to argue but blanched as he saw who it was and made haste to put distance between himself and the Targaryen.

“Thank you.”  You said reluctantly, hugging yourself tighter.

“You are crying.”  Aemond stated, peering into your face.

“I am not.”

“What is wrong, Y/N.”

“What do you think?”  You cut your eyes over to where the women he’d been engaged with had their heads together, whispering.  “They seemed rather enamored by you.”

Aemond sighed, tilting your chin up with his finger. “This conversation is seeming rather familiar.”

“It’s not at all the same, Aemond.”

“How is it not?”

You refused to look at him, though his grip on your jaw tightened. “I will always only be interested in you! You have my adoration in its entirety.”

“You think I feel differently.”  It was not a question.  Aemond tapped your cheek with his index finger, his thumb stroking your quivering lower lip.  “Y/N, look at me.”

You raised your eyes to meet his.  Aemond’s expression was soft, tender even, as he gave you a small smile.

“I thought you were clever, Y/N.”

Your protestations were silence with a muffled “I ammfph!” as Aemond brought his mouth down hard upon your own.  His lips were hot against yours, you instinctively pressed flush against him as Aemond’s hands gripped low at your waist, his leg parting your thighs.  You tangled your fingers in his thick hair, pulling him further into you.  You felt a low wanting groan rumble in his chest, his breath filling your lungs as your tongues tangled together.

He broke away slightly placing a little peck to the tip of your nose.  Your head was spinning, but you noticed many eyes upon the two of you and the whispering of voices buzzing around the grand room.

“Perhaps that will alleviate those doubts from that pretty head of yours.”  Aemond ran the back of his finger down your cheek.  He leant in to place another, more chaste, kiss to your parted lips.

“What doubts were those again?”  You followed his movements with wide eyes as the prince took your hand in his, leading you back onto the dance floor.

He chuckled, leading you into the beginnings of a slow waltz. “Exactly.”

You glanced over his shoulder to the two women he’d been speaking to.  Their cheeks were flushed; they watched the movements of your and Aemond’s dance with expressions of shocked anger mixed with envy.  You hid your satisfied smirk in the crook of Aemond’s neck, breathing in his smell of smoke and leather.

“Something amuse you, my dear?” Aemond’s breath tickled your cheek.  He grazed his lips against the shell of your ear before kissing your temple.

“I think we’ve upset a couple women over there.”

“As if they could hold a candle to you in any way, perzītsos.”

And he kissed you again, in front of the gawking crowd.

[kckt88]

The Beginning

Summary:

Every Dynasty must start somewhere.

Warning(s): Talk of Violence/Blood, Eye Injury, Betrothals.

Word Count: 1923

A.N - Credit to Aemond Targaryen Team (@aemond_team) • Instagram photos and videos for the picture of Aemond & Dany.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“This interminable in fighting must cease” shouted Viserys banging his wooden cane on the floor.

“F-Father” muttered Rhaenyra.

“Your father. Your grandsire. Your King demands it” screamed Viserys.

“Your Grace if-“

“-I will see things at an end” snapped Viserys as he turned towards Otto who bowed his head in faux submission.

“Husband” muttered Alicent sadly.

“When Princess Vaera turns five and ten, she is to come to Kings Landing where she will be wed to my son Prince Aemond” declared Viserys.

After momentary beat of silence, the room erupted into chaos.

“I will not have my son married to that girl”.

“He attacked Baela”.

“They attacked me”.

“He stole Vhagar”.

“Mother don’t let her be married to him”.

“She’s my daughter I should get a say who she marries”.

“SILENCE!” bellowed Viserys.

“You will do as your King commands, the two of them will enter into a period of courtship and then they will be wed. I would see our family united, and I swear there will be consequences if anyone dares to disobey me” ordered Viserys.

“Yes, Your Grace” muttered Rhaenyra.

Vaera looked down at her hands that were still stained with Aemond’s blood, her cotton night dress in tatters after she had ripped away a piece of the fabric to press against his face to try and stop the bleeding.

“He didn’t steal Vhagar” mumbled Vaera.

“What did you say?” asked Rhaenyra her eyes wide with surprise.

“Aemond. He didn’t steal Vhagar”.

“Yes, he did, Vhagar belonged to Rhaena she was our mother’s dragon” snapped Baela.

“Nobody owns the dragons; they are creatures of their own free will, they are not posessions to be passed down, she allowed Aemond to claim her. Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor” replied Vaera. (A dragon is not a slave).

Rhaenyra smiled slightly as she tucked a stray silver curl of hair behind her daughter’s ear.

Alicent stunned to silence turned to face Viserys who smiled.

“It seems as though my granddaughter is the only one blessed with any kind of sense. This matter is finished” ordered Viserys.

Vaera noticed Aemond peering at her from across the room and she gave him a small smile before she turned away.

- Five Years Later -

Everything had changed since that night on Driftmark. Vaera had lost her father Laenor and gained another in her great uncle Daemon, who also turned out to be her biological father.

Not that Vaera wanted to know the details, but her mother had spent her wedding night to Laenor with Daemon. A death had occurred at the feast and Laenor had descended deep into his cups to block his pain over the loss of his beloved Joffrey and Daemon had snuck into her mother’s chambers, did what they wanted or needed to do and nine moons later she had been born. Of course, by this time Daemon had already absconded across the narrow sea and married Laena Velaryon.

Growing up had been a little tough for Vaera, as her mother had been deeply in love with Daemon and his abandonment of her had broken her heart. Every time her mother looked at her, she could see it in her eyes. Rhaenyra tried to be a good mother to her and sometimes she was indeed soft and warm, but other times she was vacant and unfeeling.

So, Vaera spent most of her time with Laenor, even more so after he mother gave birth to Jacaerys and Lucerys, both babes blessed with brown hair and bearing an entirely coincidental resemblance to the commander of the city watch Ser Harwin Strong.

Whispers of bastard followed both of her younger brothers and it eventually caused a rift between them. Sure, she had also been subjected to the reservations of the court, but due to her flowing silver hair and amethyst eyes suspicions of her true parentage eventually fell by the wayside.

Maybe it should have been better when her mother had married Daemon, but it wasn’t. Things remained the same. Vaera always got the sense that her father was disappointed in her, he seemed to be dismissive of her and never cared to spend time with her like he did her sister Baela. Her other sister Rhaena had told her that she had felt the same way and it was most likely down to their lack of a dragon.

It wasn’t her fault that her cradle egg never hatched. Mayhaps that dragon wasn’t truly meant for her.

A theory that turned out to be true, when Vaera had managed to claim the most ferocious dragon alive the Cannibal.

All those who had tried to claim him before had perished, his nest was littered with the bones of all those who had tried and failed. Yet he’d accepted her. She was his first ever rider.

Perhaps he senses her loneliness and the need for a friend as he had felt the same way. But something definitely called to her with her Cannibal and their bond was like no other. They spent every moment they could together, either in the air flying amongst the clouds or on the ground where Cannibal would curl around her as she read countless books to him.

Messages of congratulations arrived from Kings Landing, although some were laced with uncertainty with regards to her claiming of the ferocious Cannibal. Sure, he had a reputation but as long as his hunger was satisfied then he had no desire for the flesh of his own kind.

The years on Dragonstone spent bonding with Cannibal were the best, of course the deteriorating relationship with her parents and siblings wasn’t a great aspect. But Vaera firmly decided that she didn’t care as long as she had her dragon.

Her mother was too preoccupied with the babe she’d recently given birth too. A boy named Aegon, which was ridiculous considering there was already an Aegon. But now her father had his son and that’s all he cared about.

The time was now upon her to travel to Kings Landing so she could begin her courtship with Aemond. She wondered what he’d be like now. They’d not seen each other since the night he’d lost his eye on Driftmark, but they had been friends before that. Vaera was not simple minded she knew what was expected of her with regards to marriage, but she hoped Aemond would be amenable to rebuilding some form of their friendship.

Due to recently giving birth, her mother could not escort her to Kings Landing and her father wasn’t keen either something about ‘Hightower cunts’ and neither Jace nor Luke volunteered which in Luke’s case was probably a good thing. So, after making sure she had everything packed and bidding farewell to everyone, Vaera climbed on the back of her Cannibal and took to the skies, heading away from Dragonstone towards Kings Landing.

Once Vaera arrived in Kings Landing, she had Cannibal circle the Red Keep a couple of times before he landed with a colossal thud on the stone walls that surrounded the castle. Announcing his arrival with a thunderous roar, Cannibal manoeuvred himself off the wall and lowered himself to the ground. After taking a moment to gather her bags that were attached to Cannibal, Vaera elegantly moved off Cannibals back and descended down the wing that he’d pressed against the ground.

Cannibal lingered by her side for a moment, observing the two guards that had appeared at the entrance to the castle. His low rumbling growls echoing around the courtyard.

“It’s ok my sweet” urged Vaera as she ran her hand along Cannibals scaly neck.

Cannibal who was still hesitant to leave her side, bared his teeth as the guards moved closer.

“I’m fine, they are merely escorts. Go hunt and find a place to rest. I will see you soon” said Vaera as she pressed a quick kiss to Cannibal’s snout.

Cannibal trilled as he nudged her gently, lingering at her side for a few moments longer before he opened his large wings and took off from the ground with a huge gust of wind.

Vaera held her bags close as the guards slowly approached her.

“Princess Vaera. Welcome to Kings Landing. Allow us to escort you to the Queen”.

“Thank you” replied Vaera.

Vaera silently followed the guards as they walked through the Red Keep. Ignoring the curious looks of the maids and servants as she went passed.

Eventually the guards came to a stop in front of a large ornate wooden door.

Knock, knock.

“Enter”.

“Princess Vaera. Your Grace” said one of the guards as he stood aside and allowed Vaera to enter the room.

“Ahh Princess, forgive me. We were not made aware that you would be arriving today”.

“Apologise your grace. My mother must have forgotten to send the raven” replied Vaera.

“It appears so Princess. But never mind you’re here now. Let us discuss your courtship and upcoming marriage to my son” said Alicent.

“Yes, Your Grace” said Vaera bowing her head respectfully.

“Talia, would you take the Princesses bags to her assigned chambers” ordered Alicent.

“Your Grace” replied Talia as she wordlessly took Vaera’s bags and left the room.

“Please take a seat” offered Alicent, gesturing to the empty space next to her.

Vaera slowly sat beside the Queen and took a deep breath, she had not seen Alicent since Driftmark and in truth she was a little nervous.

 “Your courtship period with Aemond will last approximately three moons, after that the two of you will marry in the sept under the faith of the seven” said Alicent sternly.

“Of course, Your Grace” whispered Vaera, fidgeting with her riding leathers.

“You will be expected to do your duty as a wife and only bear my son’s children”.

Vaera of course picked up on Alicent’s thinly veiled dig at her mother, and obviously the Queen was waiting for her response as she stared her pointedly.

“I’m well aware of my duty Your Grace. Despite what you may think. I am not my mother. I fully understand the value of my virtue and I swear that no man has touched me, and no man will ever touch me besides my husband” replied Vaera truthfully.

“Pretty words Princess. Surely you can understand my reluctance to believe such things”.

“Yes, Your Grace I do understand. But as I said I am not my mother, and I can assure you I have no such desire to sully myself or my husband by birthing bastards” said Vaera sharply.

Alicent stared at her for a moment before smiling and nodding her head.

“You will of course be assigned a guard who will accompany you and ensure your safety and wellbeing” said Alicent.

“Yes, Your Grace” whispered Vaera.

“I must also inform you that I expect your to behave whilst you are here and act in a manner befitting a Princess of the realm” retorted Alicent.

“Of course, Your Grace. I will endeavour to act accordingly” said Vaera.

“This is your home now; you may go where you wish” replied Alicent.

Vaera nodded wordlessly.

“Ser Arryk will be your guard, mayhaps you would like to be escorted to your chambers so that you may bathe” said Alicent.

“Yes, Your Grace, I understand the smell of dragon isn’t particularly pleasant” replied Vaera.

“I expect your presence at dinner later today, a formal introduction between you and Aemond will be made. I will send a maid to inform you of the time. Ser Arryk will you escort the Princess to her chambers”.

Ser Arryk lumbered forward and Vaera bowed respectfully to the Queen before following the knight.

As she walked back to her assigned chambers, Vaera couldn't help but wonder what her marriage to Aemond would be like.

Would he love her? or would she be nothing more than his duty?

Only time would tell.

[madame-fear]

My lovely lady wife,

I think we know what I’m about to request for. A little Aemond fic on what I told you because Aemond being possessive..🤭

Arguing over reader having a dance with Lucerys or Aegon, but then turns sweet after reader snaps at him, telling him that she’s devoted to him?

Pretty please? (I love you!!❤️)

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks! : My sweet darling Vinca, an honour to receive your requests as always! ❤ Please enjoy this and hope it was what you expected. I was inspired by the dialogue you sent me on some of the dialogues in here 🤭 Ily sm honey !! 💕 — summary : [ — ✧ request ] — word count : 1.6k ꒰ა ✧ additional note ; title is based on the song “come to me” by björk. 💗

— pairing : jealous/possesive!aemond targaryen x reader — genre : a bit of arguing, but then turns into fluff.

“It was just one dance, Aemond!” your shouting echoed through the dimly lit halls, going after Aemond, behind of him.

Patience was a virtue that lately began to heavily hang from a thin string for the One Eyed Prince; and the arrival of his bastard nephews, the Velaryon boys, back again to King’s Landing wasn’t making things any easier for him... And mostly, for his usual possesiveness around you.

Not that the presence of both boys itself bothered him. Quite the contrary, his natural self around them was to tease and make them upset on purpose, constantly reminding them how everyone knew they were merely bastard sons; “Strong” boys, as he would refer to them. But the problem was, when the betrothal dinner had arrived.

While Helaena took the hand of the eldest Velaryon, Jacaerys, for a dance after she made a subtle remark on how her brother-husband Aegon ignored her, Lucerys stood up from his seat, and offered his own hand to you for a dance. Such act was merely out of the usual polite and gentleness that identified the future Lord of Driftmark, but Aemond couldn’t help but silently seethe with overwhelming jealousy at the sight of you giggling and dancing with Lucerys Velaryon.

Lucerys. His bastard nephew. The one that had made fun of him with a pig as a young boy when Aemond had not yet claimed Vhagar, and the same nephew that had taken out his eye. How could someone as himself so pridefully offer his hand out to you, out of all the people, right in front of his face? And what was worse, was that YOU had taken it, only to notoriously have fun with the young Velaryon bastard.

And that could only lead to you having to chase after him through the large halls of King’s Landing, shouting out his name for him to listen to what you had to say. His usual stoic face now shouted an expression of pure grimace, feeling as if he were to lose himself to a burdening sensation of posessiveness towards you.

Aemond couldn’t even bare when his brother Aegon was too drunk to the point he started flirting with you, or using sexual innuendos — but seeing you dance so gracefully with Lucerys, the nephew he despised wholeheartedly, was the least of things Aemond could possibly tolerate.

“Aemond!” you kept shouting, “Seven Hells, would you even care to listen to me?!” his steps had turned nearly into harsh stomping, feeling your own legs get tired from the heavy rushing towards him.

As you were nearly reaching him, trying to place your hand on his arm to catch his attention, the One Eyed prince abruptly stopped on his steps and turned around to face you. Out of surprise at his sudden actions, you made a few steps backwards.

“I don’t need to listen to anything.” he retorted, with a monotone, yet cold voice tone. The stare on his blue eye hinted a fiery jealousy that abruptly ignited on him, you crossed your arms tightly against your chest. “And most certainly, I don’t need to hear you talking about how you accepted the hand of my bastard nephew to dance with him right in front of me!” his voice raised its tone, notoriously sounding angrier by the minute.

You had to admit, you were both frustrated and surprised by his sudden outburst. While you knew Aemond could be rather overprotective of you — especially ever since you had taken care of him after the incident with his eye —, you had never seen him acting in such... A possesive manner. “To which, I remind you: he owes me his eye.”

Your lips were partly open, about to protest against his sayings, as your brows knitted in confusion at the way Aemond behaved towards the situation. “I was only being polite to him, Aemond!” you snapped at him, shouting louder. “What was supposed to do, turn him down right in front of everyone?!”

You understood that Lucerys was certainly trying to be as polite and gentle as his brother Jacaerys was with women, and you saw no issue with that. But apparently Aemond did.

“You should have, yes!” your hands both went to your face, immediatly letting your head fall against your palms, releasing a muffled frustrated huff at his answer. You then fluttered your eyes open, going back to face him. Your heart loudly pounded against your chest from the adrenaline of the situation, loudly arguing with one another; being loud enough as for your voices to echo around the halls.

“I can’t believe you,” you said, with your eyes furrowed. “That was literally the most attention I have ever paid to any of the Velaryon boys!” pointing your index finger at him, you continued. “And you are making such a fuss over that?” while his lips opened to speak against you, you rapidly interrupted him, feeling bold enough to confront him. How could Aemond be so oblivious to the way you were entirely devoted to him, and only him?

“It was one dance.” you remarked, lowering your quivering voice. “And while you may have lost an eye, Aemond, that does not mean you are blind.” hearing your words made his grimly jealous expressions turn into an intrigued one. You sighed, allowing the hand that was pointing at him with your finger to fall by your side in a swift manner.

“I only accepted the dance out of politeness, but did I kiss Lucerys, or anyone else? No, I have not.” you began remarking, feeling relieved that Aemond seemed to attentively listen to you without making too much of a fuss. “Did I fuck him, or anyone else? Yet again, I have not.” a soft huff spurred from your nose, looking at him in disbelief.

“Do I ever stroll with anyone else in the gardens, spending hours talking with one another, like I do with you? No, I don’t.” leisurely, his face softened, hearing how the tense atmosphere seemed to switch into a more tranquil one. “I have never read to anyone else in the gardens, except with you. I have never cheered for anyone else in their swordtraining, except with you.” you continued, trying to discreetly build the point to him.

“I could never spend hours comforting anyone else, like I comforted you when you lost your eye. I have never cared for anyone else like I genuinely care for you. I never even cared to fix my gaze on someone that isn’t you, Aemond.” the initial angry frustration softly washed away from you, even if you could still feel the thrill of it pumping through your veins.

Perhaps it was true. He could have overreacted just a little bit — more than extremely, actually — to the situation. But how could he not be possesive over you, when you had such remarking, exceptional qualities that any man could possibly long for in a woman?

It had always been you the one braiding his hair playfully, it was you the one who comforted him whenever he felt angry, or outraged... It was you the one who always cheered and clapped for him when his skills in swordtraining became better each time; occasionally tossing Ser Criston’s own sword to the ground merely to impress you, and hear you root for him proudly.

Walking a few steps towards him, you lifted your sight to his eye, staring profoundly at him. A soft, quivering sigh escaped from him. Faintly, a rosy tint crept on his pale skin gently. “How can you not realise, it is you the one I truly adore? The one I am most devoted to?” the sound of your voice nearly made him melt, especially when you raised your hand to his cheek, and tenderly stroked it with the tip of your thumb.

A scoff spurred from his rosy lips, with a little sheepish grin tuggig at the corner of his lips. He was used to being possesive and jealous over you, but those feelings of adoration — now mutually felt — were always kept to himself. The One Eyed Prince was absolutely clueless on how to express his feelings towards you, to which, he preferred that saying nothing at all would be much better.

“I should have known it sooner.” he muttered, sounding a slight tone of disbelief at himself. It was just too obvious for someone such as himself to not realise. You scoffed, smiling at him as you shook your head lightly. A certain pride filled you, as your skin could feel his own heated cheek from the fluster under your touch.

Without hesitating, you tiptoed as his presence towered your own, and your free hand went to cup his other cheek. Awkwardly — yet a bit needily — his arms went around your waist sweetly, pulling you closer to his body. Fluttering your eyes shut, your lips locked against his own. And Gods, your lips were as sweet-tasting as he had always imagined they would be.

You kept your lips pressed against his own for what seemed an eternity, despite it being a minute, almost. His way of kissing you was soft, yet, it became a bit more deep and intense as the time progressed. Reluctantly, you had to pull away from him, despite him trying to inconsciously encourage you to keep going.

As you pulled apart, with your hands on his cheeks, a prideful grin was seen on his lips. Perhaps being jealous and possesive had its own perks, after all. A soft chuckle spurred from your lips gracefully, moving your hand lower to caress his jaw with the tip of your finger. There was something sweet in seeing how he could act just like a fiery, possesive dragon, but turn into an endearing puppy that melted at your touch. At that touch of yours he so longed.

“But now you know,” you whispered, caressing his skin delicately. “And I don’t care if I have to spell it out for you.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@keiratonks @kyuupidwrites @tchatso zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @dragon430 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[mejcinta]

Aegon tightly grasping Helaena's beetle as he glares at Rhaenyra and Daemon. Aemond monitoring Helaena as she dances with Jace.

Aegon: posessive brother.

Aemond: protective brother.

Love them so much.

[thought--bubble]

WooHoo!

Since i am a dork and hitting 300 followers made me super excited and I love all of the people that interact with me I wanted to do something a little fun so... below are the fics where someone has asked for a Pt.2 or Pt. 3 Be it comments asks or messages (I've been keeping track because i'm weird lmao) and if you like this I will do it again!

So whichever one gets the most votes I am going to write a Pt2 or Pt.3! hehehe

(Links to fics & Sequel hints under the cut)

(Setting this for a week so I have time to finish what I'm currently working on before starting whichever wins. LOL)

Prized Possession (Dark Aemond X Maid of Betrothed)

Mine to Claim (Dark Aemond X Commoner)

The Monster in your Fairytale (Old South AU Aemond X Southern Belle)

She Brings The Darkness (Michael X Goth Classmate)

If I Had The Love I Needed(Will X Friend)(Mini-Series)

Right Place Wrong Time (Mini -Series) (Dark Aemond X Out of World OFC)

Sequel hints

Prized Posession- Shall we continue?

Mine to Claim - Aemond moves you into the red keep as the new seamstress now what?

The Monster in your Fairytale - Aemond Vs Daddy

She Brings the Darkness - Michael's Revenge

If I had the Love I Needed - Life on the Run

Right Place, Wrong Time - Isolation and Stimulation

Banner & Divider by @arcielee

[thatwriterrosefics]

Rose's Kinktober 2024 Full List

Larissa Weems - Mirror Sex Harwin Strong - Pregnant Sex

Alicent Hightower - Mile High Club Jacaerys Velaryon - Missionary Sex

Rhaenyra Targaryen - Sex on the Iron Throne Aemond Targaryen - Praise Kink

Rhaenys Targaryen - Window Sex Aegon II Targaryen - Handcuffs

Laena Velaryon - Late Night Sex Daemon Targaryen - Dragon Sex

Rhea Royce - Thigh Riding Cregan Stark - Breeding Kink

Mysaria - First Time Addam of Hull - Tender Sex

Alys Rivers - Floor Sex Steve Harrington - Clothed Sex

Brienne of Tarth - Mutual Masturbation Eddie Munson - Wall Sex

Margaery Tyrell - Oral Sex Argyle - Roleplay

Van Palmer - Outdoor Sex Jonathan Byers - Cam Worker

Shauna Shipman - Kitchen Sex Sejanus Plinth - Pillow Talk

Natalie Scatorccio - Mask Sex Sandor Clegane - Marking

Lottie Matthews - Public Sex Joel Miller - Massage

Taissa Turner - Formal Wear Tommy Miller - Car Sex

Karen Wheeler - Dirty Talk Otto Octavius - Phone Sex

Lydia Deetz - Secret Relationship Sex Chibs Telford - Posessive Sex

Fennec Shand - Begging Boba Fett - Hidden Vibrator

Love Quinn - Sex On Film Johnny "Coco" Cruz - Erotic Pictures

Molly O’Shea - Overstimulation Oscar "Spooky" Diaz - Friends with Benefits

Sadie Adler - Body Worship Josiah Trelawny - Lingerie

Abigail Marston - Spooning Arthur Morgan - Lipstick

Robin Buckley - Aftercare Charles Smith - Early Morning Sex

Kate Sharma - Quiet John Marston - Strip Tease

Penelope Bridgerton - Oral Fixation Dutch Van Der Linde - Corset

Violet Bridgerton - Wet Dream Hosea Matthews - Age Difference

Sidney Prescott - Stripping Javier Escuella - Jealousy

Sam Carpenter - Halloween Costumes Anthony Bridgerton - Birthday Sex

Tara Carpenter - Whipped Cream Benedict Bridgerton - Messy Sex

Mindy Meeks Martin - Face Sitting Eddie Roundtree - Blowjob

Karen Sirko - Club Sex Rafael Barba - Vacation Sex

[writingsofwesteros]

Iron doe Hotd:

I don't know what posessed me but I can't stop thinking of Stev braiding aemond's hair just so that when he is acting out during the day she can pull on it to remind who is in charge ;)

Could you imagine !!

He'd melt at such a touch ;)

[its-actually-minicika]

do you have any headcanons for a darker Aemond? say there is a ball and he gets very jealous when MC starts dancing with a Baratheon lord or something lol

Ask and you shall receive. I hope you enjoy this cathartic mess that my head came up with!

Warnings: yandere!Aemond, some dubious consent (though he's still pretty soft with you);

Even his brother was eyeing him weirdly - the way Aemond was leaning forward, almost painfully so, a predator glint swirling in his lilac orb: it was unsettling, and most unnatural, coming from him;

The younger Targaryen felt his undoing the moment he denied you the first dance of the night. He thought that the way your body closed in on itself, sadly, and the way your eyes shimmered with doubt would be enough torture for him for days to come;

It was an action that couldn't be helped, he told himself - you needed to be taught a lesson, never to smile around anyone else; Aemond Targaryen, The One-Eyed Prince, was no one's means to an end. Not even yours;

But here he was, being further punished by his fair lady, subjected to eyeing her smiles and hearing her giggle with that good for nothing Baratheon lord;

The grip of his cup tightened when the drunken food placed a hand too leisurely around your waist;

"(...) what say you, my Prince?"

A meek voice interrupted his trail of thought. Aemond's eye clashed with his mother's, who was now smiling tightly at the young lady fronting their table;

"Lady Tyrell was asking for your hand in the next dance." Daeron came to aid his brother, whispering to him lowly, masking the movements of his mouth with his hands;

Aemond hummed, boring through the maiden with his open stare, concentrating on your breathless form;

He quickly mached the object of his desire to the girl in front of him - her hair was slightly darker and her lips not as defined. The most clashing feature on her face were her eyes; Aemond shuddered in disgust when he glanced upon them: green, emotionless, carrying no original thought behind them;

Very different from yours, indeed;

Nonetheless, he figured he had stalled enough. He bowed his head in her direction, prepared to stand up and lead her through the waltz;

She wasn't a perfect copy of you. But she would do;

He lasted a dance with her, though his eye found yours everytime;

But you, either hurt or bored by his theatrics, turned your full attention to the Baratheon lad in front of you;

The night went on seemingly without quarrel - you, joyously swaying from one man to the next. Him, seated in a nearby corner, with the swooning lady on his tail;

He gave her a curt nod from time to time, never once engaging in conversation; he could tell by the sweat on your brow that you would depart soon, so he waited;

And waited. And waited for the perfect moment, knuckles white, until it finally came;

You curtsied deeply to your father, your King and your date, exiting the wide hall with a small smile upon your face;

Enraged by the simple sight, Aemond got up abruptly from his chair, blinding jealousy making him forget all about etiquette;

He followed you down the hall at a moderate distance. People were around, and he wouldn't want them to suspect a thing;

Should your reputation be tarnished by his doing, Aemond would never forgive himself.

Although... a fleeting thought of orchestrating such a situation, in which you and him were found in a most unbecoming position, ran though his mind. And would that be so bad...?

He would take it one task at a time;

Before you knew it, a pair of iron arms ducked you into a secluded corner;

Glorious (y/e/c) eyes were met with lilac hues, swirling with lust and want;

"Did you have fun, byka zaldrīzes? Did you revel in the arms of that Baratheon scum?"

As he spoke, his hands travelled lower, onto your bare back, and the Targaryen had to bite back a groan;

Had you worn that dress just to vex him?

"You should already know... I don't ever take lightly sharing what is mine."

His tongue ran over your pulse, before biting down gently - posessively.

"Did you really think you could flaunt yourself before me at no occurring cost?"

You hand went over your mouth, clasping it tightly, as to not let out a moan;

That taught reaction elicited a low purr from deep within his throat;

"A-Aemond. I don't... I don't understand."

You were confused, more so now than ever - the building in your lower stomach, his crude refusal at the beginning of the night - what did they account to mean?

The silver haired man chuckled darkly, his breath rolling over your neck, and his hair tickling your shoulders;

"Don't worry, perzys hen issa prūmia. The night is still young."

As he spoke his last words, Aemond effortlessly threw you over his shoulder;

"And I plan to make you learn your lesson all throughout it."

Translations:

"Byka zaldrīzes" = little dragon;

"Perzys hen issa prūmia" = fire of my heart.

Small author's note: please let me know what you guys think - feedback is always appreciated! And if you have any requests, feel free to use the ask button; I love writing them ^^

[fanficapologist]

Whew boy, the tension between Alys and Maera was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I think this is also a lesson to take Helaena more seriously *nods solemnly* we’re taking notes of these prophecies. I combed through the previous chapters to find that particular quote hahahaha.

First, let’s unpack the confrontation scene. Not sure if this is just me but I kind of feel like Maera was humiliated? I can’t name the exact emotion but yeah, because Alys got pregnant first, and a boy no less. Props to Maera too because in the spirit of not pitting women against women, she really held it together. I can see how she wouldn’t want to immediately lash out at Alys just because she’d lain with Aemond, I mean it does take two to tango, but good lord, is Alys testing her. I don’t expect her and Alys to become fast friends because there will always be tension given her feelings for Aemond and Alys also seems to somehow hint she has him under her spell but I don’t know what she’s playing at because from the onset it seemed every breath is a taunt.

Alys also seemed condescending or patronizing because here Maera is, confronting her and she’s somehow made to feel like she’s the mistress.

“You look upset; you needn’t be” it’s like Maera is the mistress finding out the wife is pregnant. Translation: oh, don’t worry, you’ll get to play happy family too.

I think it must also be jarring given their physical resemblance. In a way it seemed Aemond only liked her because she reminds him of Alys, which again, if I were her, I’d be questioning my entire relationship as well. Again, props to Maera for regaining control of the situation because really, what would happen should Alys give birth? I think even if Aemond didn’t have romantic feelings for Alys, no doubt he’d feel something for his child. And in other versions or tales about Alys, she asserts her child’s right to the throne, and in this universe, this puts Maera in danger or at the very least calls her status into question.

Next, THAT convo with Aemond. Yeah, I do believe he didn’t know but surely he can’t be so stupid and not think it through?? I mean what did he think Alys was going to do with his seed? He already knows it needs to be through lying with her. Or maybe he was so desperate for him and Maera to happen he’d say yes even if it meant selling his soul but did he think he’d get off scot-free? Serves him right, Maera leaving him sexually frustrated. I also think in a way it’s a form of reassurance for her, to remind herself that even though he has a bastard, he’d lain with Alys, at the end of the day, she’s the one he loves and wants.

Ooh this was difficult to read but at the same time, I can’t quite stop hahaha. And while I feel sorry for Alys because a lot of people can be quite posessive-protective of Aemond, myself included, thus damning anyone who’ll portray her, I do feel, in your story, she merits only a few chapters hahahaha. I can’t quite stand her, there I said it. That said, I am sooo ready as to how things will unfold. 💕

I’m curious to think why Alys is so fucking certain she’s having a boy 🙄 it would certainly strengthen her position, and she knows that, but she’s just a bit too confident for my liking

I think I can only do like three or four more chapters of Alys because as much as I want her to be in the story I fucking hate her 🤣 (totally not because I’m a possessive protective Aemond girly)

For real, the sex was for Maera, not for him. She came and went (literally) 🖤

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Masterlist

Smut: 🍆

Personal faves: ⭐️

Requests I plan to write -> here

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Rhaenyra Masterlist

Aegon Masterlist

Jacaerys:

Oneshots/mini series:

Best Friends Brother, Cops And Robbers (modern!jacaerys)🍆

Traded Posession, Gilded Whore (dark!jacaerys x reader) 🍆

Cregan:

Oneshots/mini series:

Attitude Adjustment (cregan x wife!reader)🍆⭐️

Series:

Lord Husband (cregan x reader)⭐️

Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

Alicent

Oneshots/mini series:

A Simple Favour 🍆

Nymphets🍆

Michael Gavey Masterlist

Luke Castellan Masterlist

Sejanus Plinth:

Oneshots/miniseries:

Darling🍆

Tom Bennett:

Oneshots/miniseries:

Sailor Boy🍆

Joseph Descamps:

Oneshots/miniseries:

Behind Closed Doors🍆

[avonne-writes]

Obsessed Aemond works best with Posessive Luce. It's not as fun when only one is unhinged. Feral 'this bitch is mine' Luke who is just as crazy in love as aemond but usually seems normal is better.

I love them both feral 🥰 I feel like the best is when Luke is able to hide his unhingedness well and everyone thinks he's an angel, and then slowly, the truth comes out.

I also like it when he shows possessiveness in unexpected and crazy ways. Like for example in a modern AU, instead of being plainly jealous (like Aemond would be), he goes around telling people that he was the one who took Aemond's eye or that Aemond is his uncle.

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon 2 - Younger II

Summary:

A glimpse into the past through Aemond's perspective.

Warnings - Fluff, Angst, Language, Eye Injury, Discussion of Dub/Con Street of Silk Visit, Talk of Masturbation, Posessive Behaviour.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

Word Count: 4150

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Aemond stood alone on the balcony of the Red Keep, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ship carrying Vaelys had disappeared from view.

He felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he watched the ship vanish into the distance. Vaelys, his closest companion, and his love, was now sailing away to Dragonstone, leaving him behind in King's Landing.

Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of his only friend being taken from him. They had shared so many memories together—playing in the gardens, exploring the corridors of the Red Keep, and dreaming of their future. The promise they’d made to one another.

Just the other day she had slapped her brother’s for mocking him, their cruel prank with the pig, not even his brother Aegon had escaped her wrath when she followed him down into the dragon pit and pushed him into a pile of dragon dung.

Now, all of that felt like a distant memory, a fleeting moment lost to the currents of time. She was gone, ripped away from him by her mother.

He leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, his gaze still fixed on the spot where the ship had vanished from sight. He felt a lump form in his throat as he realized just how much he would miss Vaelys' laughter, her smile, and the warmth of her presence.

With a heavy heart, Aemond turned away from the balcony, the weight of loneliness settling over him like a heavy cloak.

But deep down, he knew that no matter how far apart they may be, Vaelys would always hold a special place in his heart.

As he sat alone at his desk in the quiet confines of his chambers, a sense of melancholy settling over him like a heavy shroud. His gaze wandered to the closed drawer beside him, a silent sentinel guarding a treasure trove of memories.

With a sigh, Aemond reached out and pulled open the drawer, revealing the stack of drawings that lay within. Each one was a testament to the bond he shared with Vaelys, a visual reminder of the moments they had shared together.

He picked up the top drawing, his fingers tracing the delicate lines and curves with a sense of reverence.

It was a portrait of him, sketched in painstaking detail, his features rendered with a tender touch that spoke volumes of Vaelys' affection.

As he sifted through the drawings, memories flooded back to him—afternoons spent in the gardens, laughter echoing through the halls of the Red Keep, stolen moments of companionship that had sustained him through even the darkest of times.

Vaelys didn't know that he had kept these drawings, he realized. She had given them to him as tokens of friendship, unaware of the profound impact they had made on him. But he had treasured each and every one, cherishing them as precious mementos of their bond.

With a soft smile, Aemond gathered up the drawings and held them close to his heart. They were more than just pieces of paper; they were fragments of a shared history, a testament to the enduring strength of their friendship.

Aemond stood by the window of his chamber, his gaze fixed on the bustling streets of King's Landing below. In just a few hours, he would be departing for Driftmark to attend the funeral of Laena Velaryon—a somber occasion that should have filled him with nothing but sorrow.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement stirring within him. For traveling to Driftmark meant that he would see Vaelys again.

He knew he shouldn't feel this way—that it was wrong to feel even the slightest hint of anticipation for such a solemn occasion. But he couldn't help it. The thought of being reunited with Vaelys filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort that he hadn't felt in weeks.

With a heavy sigh, Aemond tore his gaze away from the window, his heart heavy with guilt. He knew that attending the funeral was the right thing to do—to pay his respects.

But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that bubbled up inside him at the thought of seeing Vaelys once again.

Aemond stood at a distance, watching silently as his uncle Daemon crouched down in front of Vaelys, her young face etched with a mixture of confusion and sadness. He could see Rhaenyra, standing nearby, her expression solemn as she nodded softly in agreement with Daemon's hushed words.

Aemond strained to hear what they were saying, as their voices were barely more than whispers, lost amidst the bustle of the courtyard. He could see the furrow of Vaelys' brow, the trembling of her lower lip, and he felt a pang of concern tug at his heart.

He wanted to go to her, to offer her comfort and reassurance, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation, the unspoken weight of whatever Daemon and Rhaenyra were discussing with her. Or perhaps it was the fear of intruding on a private moment between mother and daughter.

As he watched, Aemond felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, a fierce desire to shield Vaelys from whatever was causing her distress. But he knew that this was something she had to face on her own, that he could only offer his support from afar.

And so, with a heavy heart, Aemond remained rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving Vaelys as she struggled to come to terms with whatever news Daemon and Rhaenyra had imparted to her.

“You will die screaming in flames just like your father did-BASTARDS” the venom dripping from Aemond’s voice, his anger directed towards Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, who had set upon him after he had managed to claim the dragon Vhagar.

But it was the look on Vaelys’ face, that broke his heart. He didn’t want to hurt her. But she stood before him, her lip wobbling, her hair a mess from where she had tried to pull Baela and Rhaena off him as they pummelled him with their fists.

Ever since her talk with Daemon she had been acting strange, avoiding his gaze and his attempts to speak to her.

“My father’s still alive” cried Luke.

“He doesn’t know does he? Lord Strong” mocked Aemond.

His grip around Luke’s throat, tightened. The bastard strong boy struggled against him.

“J-Jace. No” exclaimed Vaelys, her eyes wide as her brother pulled a knife from his sleeve.

Aemond threw Luke to the ground and Jace flew forward, brandishing the knife aimlessly.

Vaelys was stood with Baela and Rhaena, her eyes wide as she watched Aemond smack Jace in the head with a rock, her younger brother falling to the floor in a heap.

“Aemond-No” begged Vaelys as he raised the rock above his head, he faltered, lowering the rock slightly at the sound of her voice.

Then the blade like lightening through the air, sliced through his skin, the blood pouring from his face as he collapsed to the floor.

“What did you do? Luke-WHAT DID YOU DO?” screamed Vaelys.

Aemond gritted his teeth against the searing pain that radiated from the wound where his eye had once been. The Maester's hands moving with practiced precision as he stitched the torn flesh, but each tug of the needle sent waves of agony coursing through Aemond's body.

He felt dizzy and disoriented, his vision swimming as he struggled to remain conscious.

But amidst the pain and the despair, Aemond found himself yearning for the touch of another's hand. He longed for Vaelys to be by his side, to offer him comfort. But when he turned to look for her, he found her standing next to her brother Jace, her hands shaking with fear and uncertainty.

Aemond felt a pang of disappointment, a sense of abandonment that cut deeper than any physical wound. He wanted Vaelys to hold his hand, to be there for him as he faced the agony of his injuries. But she was standing by Jace's side, her attention divided between her brother and her wounded uncle.

With a heavy heart, Aemond turned away, his gaze falling to the floor as he resigned himself to his fate. He knew that he couldn't fault Vaelys for choosing to stand by her brother's side, but it didn't make the sting of rejection any less painful.

As the Maester continued his work, Aemond closed his remaining eye and focused on the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. He would endure this pain, he told himself,

He may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon.

Aemond lay in his chambers in King's Landing, his body wracked with agony as he endured yet another round of procedures on his injured eye. The infections had taken hold, spreading like wildfire through the delicate tissue, leaving him in constant pain and discomfort.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in his heart—the hollow emptiness that gnawed at him day and night, leaving him feeling more alone than he had ever felt before. He longed for Vaelys, for her presence to offer him solace and comfort in his darkest hours. But she never came.

He cried out for her, his voice a desperate plea echoing through the empty halls of the Red Keep, but there was no answer. She was gone, taken from him in the aftermath of the tragedy on Driftmark, once again whisked away to Dragonstone and out of his reach.

He remembered the promise she had made to him, spoken in front of the sacred weirwood tree—the promise to protect him, to love him. But now she was gone, and he was alone, left to face his pain and suffering without her by his side.

As he lay there in his bed, tears streaming down his face, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, a bitter resentment towards the cruel hand fate had dealt him. He had lost his eye, and now, it seemed, he had lost the one person he had thought he could always count on.

The loss of his eye had left him with more than just physical scars; it had forced him to relearn the most basic of tasks, from walking to reading to training with the sword.

At first, even walking was a struggle. His depth perception had changed, and he found himself stumbling and tripping over his own feet more often than not. But he refused to be defeated. With each faltering step, he pushed himself to keep going, determined to regain his balance and confidence.

Reading was another obstacle he had to overcome. His remaining eye strained to make sense of the words on the page, often leaving him with painful headaches that threatened to overwhelm him. But he persevered, his determination driving him to endure the discomfort in pursuit of knowledge and understanding.

Training with the sword was perhaps the greatest challenge of all. Without depth perception, his strikes were clumsy and uncoordinated, his movements slow and hesitant. But he refused to give up. Day after day, he practiced tirelessly, honing his skills with a fierce determination that bordered on obsession.

It frustrated him to no end, this constant struggle to regain what he had lost. But with each small victory, each incremental improvement, he found renewed hope and determination.

He refused to let his disability define him, to limit him in any way. He would adapt, he would overcome, and he would prove to the world that he was just as capable, just as fierce, as he had ever been.

And as he stood in the training yard, sword in hand, sweat streaming down his brow, Aemond knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on, with courage, determination, and unwavering resolve.

Aemond felt a knot of unease twisting in his stomach as his brother Aegon led him through the dimly lit streets of King's Landing. He knew where they were going, could sense it in the air—the unmistakable scent of sweat and perfume, the raucous laughter and lewd whispers that filled the night.

He didn't want to go, didn't want to set foot in such a place, but Aegon insisted it would make him feel better. "It's time to become a man," his brother had said, his voice filled with an odd mixture of excitement and determination.

Reluctantly, Aemond followed Aegon into the brothel, his heart heavy with guilt and shame. He felt out of place amidst the gaudy decorations and scantily clad women, the raunchy music pounding in his ears like a drumbeat of despair.

As they were led to a private chamber, Aemond couldn't shake the feeling of disgust that gnawed at him from within. This was not who he was, not what he wanted. But he couldn't bring himself to voice his objections, couldn't bear to disappoint his brother.

The night passed in a blur of fleeting pleasures and empty promises, but as Aemond lay alone in his room, the echoes of his brother's laughter still ringing in his ears, he felt a wave of despair wash over him.

He had thought that this would make him feel better, that it would somehow fill the void inside him, but all it had done was leave him feeling hollow and empty.

He thought of Vaelys, and he wondered if she would be disgusted by what he had done, if she knew he had laid with a paid whore, they had promised, they had-

Tears welled up in his eyes as he lay there in the darkness, the weight of his shame and regret pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had betrayed himself, betrayed Vaelys, all for the sake of appeasing his brother's misguided notions of manhood.

But as he cried himself to sleep that night, Aemond vowed that he would never again allow himself to be swayed by the expectations of others.

He was Aemond Targaryen, rider of the mighty Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and he would not be weak again.

Aemond stood in the middle of the training ground, his sword gripped tightly in his hand as he surveyed the scene before him. The courtyard was alive with activity, knights and soldiers sparring and training under the watchful eye of their commanders.

And then his heart skipped a beat as he saw Vaelys, standing with her brothers, her long silver hair catching the sunlight as it cascaded down her back. Her amethyst eyes sparkled with determination, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the training ground with interest.

Gods, she was beautiful. Aemond felt like he couldn’t breath as he watched her. He had dreamed of this moment, imagined it a thousand times in his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of seeing her again after so long.

He wanted to go to her, to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But something held him back—the memory of their last encounter, the pain and heartache that had followed in its wake.

So instead, he stood there, rooted to the spot, his eye locked on hers as he drank in the sight of her.

Six years had passed since Aemond had last seen Vaelys. In that time, he had often found himself sitting alone in his chambers, pen in hand, pouring his heart out onto parchment in letters he never sent.

Fearful of her response, unsure if she would even bother to reply, he had allowed the anger and bitterness of what had transpired on Driftmark to cloud his mind.

There had been no apology, no remorse—only resentment and blame. His father's actions had only served to deepen the divide between them, publicly favouring his older half-sister Rhaenyra and all but disregarding his other children.

Through no fault of her own, Aemond had convinced himself that Vaelys had abandoned him, that she had chosen her family over him.

Aemond angrily around his chambers, the events of the day swirling around in his head like a whirlwind of chaos. The petition for Driftmark, his father's sudden resurgence from his sickbed to defend his favorite child once again, the ploy for power by Vaemond that had been cut short by Daemon's ruthless hand—all of it weighed heavily on his mind, fuelling the flames of his resentment.

And then there was the feast—the gods-damned feast, where he had been forced to break bread with people he despised, to smile and nod and pretend to be civil when all he wanted to do was scream. And through it all, Vaelys had refused to even look at him, her gaze cold and distant as if he were nothing more than a stranger to her.

The injustice of it all was suffocating, crushing him beneath its weight until he felt like he could hardly breathe. He had worked tirelessly, sacrificed everything to prove himself worthy, only to be cast aside time and time again in favour of Rhaenyra and her brood of strong bastards.

But it was Vaelys' indifference that cut him the deepest—the knowledge that she had once been his closest friend, and now she wouldn't even spare him a second glance.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, a reminder of just how far they had drifted apart in the years since she had left the Red Keep and now, she had left him again, back to Dragonstone.

With a frustrated growl, Aemond clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to lash out, to scream and shout and rage against the injustices of the world. But deep down, he knew that his anger was misplaced, that it was not Vaelys' fault.

His father was dead, and now his wastrel of an older brother was King. Listening to his grandsire droning on about the importance of solidifying Aegon’s rule as King was beginning to grate on him.

He hated it, the word duty, it had become like a noose around his neck, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it.

But ever the good soldier he did as he was asked and flew to Storms End to secure the support of Borros Baratheon through an offer of marriage.

The daughters of Baratheon were lined up in front of him, and he was supposed to choose which one.

But how could he. Though they had their qualities, none of them were HER.

Vaelys had bored her way into his soul, and she wouldn’t leave. His memories of her as a child, and how unbelievably annoying she was, intertwined with those of them reading together in the gardens, the promise they had made, the sweet first kiss they had shared.

Ignited a fire in him, the night before the petition, he’d stripped his cock raw, he drove himself mad, fucking his fist to the thought of her.

Many times, he brought himself to completion, picturing Vaelys.

He even dreamt of fucking her, every night it was the same, him taking her on every available surface, making her scream his name as he thrust his hard cock into her.

For the briefest of moments, he considered taking a woman. To feel something other than his hand, he could close his eye and imagine that she was Vaelys.

The thought of returning to the Street of Silk had turned his stomach, so that left the maids being the only viable option.

There was one-who seemed adequate, she had a similar build, and had nice features. She must have been new as he’d never seen her before.

Ceci her name was, he wouldn’t take without asking, he wasn’t his brother.

But as soon as the thought had entered his mind, it left. He couldn’t do it. So, he walked away and left her to her work.

But standing here now, the dark haired four storms were staring at him expectantly. He was polite as he made small talk, he didn’t want to be here he didn’t want a Baratheon for a bride.

But he had to choose, and in the end, it was Floris.

But then-

“Princess Vaelys of House Targaryen”

What in the seven hells was she doing here? Soaked to the bone, her silver plastered to her forehead, her normally pale cheeks tinged pink, no doubt from the bite of the cold air as she travelled on the back of her dragon.

Floris noticed the shift in his demeanour as she placed her hand upon his arm in an attempt to draw his attention back to her, but he shrugged her off.

“Lord Borros-I brought you a message from my mother-The Queen”.

“Yet earlier today I received an envoy from the King-which is it. King or Queen. The House of the dragon doesn’t seem to know who rules it” laughed Borros.

Aemond smirked slightly when he saw Vaelys clench her jaw, no doubt in attempt to stifle the vitriol she was about to spew forth.

His dragoness had a vicious tongue in her head, she appeared wispy in the wind but by the gods she had a bite to her.

“What’s your mother’s message?” asked Borros impatiently.

Vaelys handed a rolled up scroll to one of the escorting knights who rushed forward and handed it to Borros, who couldn’t read a single word that was written and had to summon a Maester.

Whilst the Maester relayed Rhaenyra’s message, Aemond stared at Vaelys, his hands folded behind his back.

Not one to be cowed, she glared back. Her amethyst eyes narrowed.

“Remind me of my father’s oath. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids-which one of my daughters will your brother’s wed?”

“My lord-I’m afraid that only two of my brothers are of age and neither are free to marry, they are already betrothed” replied Vaelys.

“-And what of you Princess?” asked Borros stroking his chin.

“Me? My Lord” questioned Vaelys.

“I have no longer have a wife-and you are of age to marry” said Borros.

Aemond was aghast.

That prattling pig actually had the audacity to ask about her hand in marriage.

“You are young and if you are anything like your mother, you would indeed give me many sons”.

“My Lord I-“

“My late wife blessed me only with daughters-I am left without a male heir” replied Borros.

“Under my mother’s rule-the eldest would inherit lands and titles regardless of their gender” said Vaelys.

“But that is not my desire Princess-“ quipped Borros as he leaned forward slightly.

Aemond shuddered at the prospect of Vaelys being wed to that illiterate boar, being reduced to a broodmare, the thought of her being made to birth Baratheon’s sons turned his stomach.

It should be him, it should be his seed that took root, his child that she would grow round with. Him that she grew old with.

But what he wanted didn’t matter, for in that moment both him and Vaelys were nothing but pieces of chess to be moved about the board for the success of others.

It was vile, as was Floris’ repeated attempts to gain his attention, whispering in his ear.

“Shut the fuck up” snarled Aemond quietly as he moved away from Floris.

“Apologise my lord but I am not free to marry either-”

What did she just say? Surely she wasn’t going to mention their promise to one another. A promise made between the two of them when they were naught but children would not be enough to dissuade Lord Borros.

“I am to marry Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell”

Married. To that northern dog? Echoes of the promise they’d made swirled around his mind, like whisps of smoke. Their joined hands, her sweet smile, the leaves of the wierwood rustling in the wind.

“Then you come with empty hands-go home pup and tell your mother that the Lord of Storms End is not some dog she can whistle up at need to set against her foes”

“I will take your answer to the Queen” replied Vaelys as she bowed her head politely and left. The clanging of the knights armour echoing around the hall in tandem with the thunder.

Stark, Vaelys was going to marry Stark? She would spend her days in the North, by his side, wrapped in furs, birthing that brutes children.

Dragons don’t like the cold, she would wither away, she would be married-to Stark not him.

Stark-not him.

Stark.

Cregan Fucking Stark.

NO. He wouldn’t have it. She was HIS woman. She belonged to HIM.

Without sparing Lord Borros or what's her face a single glance, Aemond marched out of Storms End.