#prince and princess au

[eggcompany]

Oh Dear, Wife Part One

Prince Geralt came to terms with the fact he was to be married. Betrothed to a princess from an eastern kingdom. Some woman who he'd have to coddle and take care of, someone who'd nag at him and be a pain. He didn't like the fact that he was to wed some frumpy woman but he came to terms with it. Princess Jaskier is told she'd to be given away to a monster of the north. A killer who's worse than any earthly creature. A beast made by the devil himself.

However when she arrived a short worded prince met her with a gentlemanly demeanor welcomed her. Geralt didn't quite know what to do with a woman like Jaskier. She pushed back, said what she meant, and was strong as most knights.

Neither of them knew they would be given a chance to actually love. It was a strange dance, but a dance no less.

Geralt had come to terms that his wife was the woman he’d be stuck to for the rest of his life. Betrothed. Eskel got to find his wife, saving the woman from a burning building that terribly killed her husband. Lambert wasn’t married to any of the mothers of his bastards. 

Vesemir had sat him down telling him that this was how they would finally have peace from the Lettenhovians. That he’d be marrying one of the princesses. The only unwed princess that was of age. And she was of age at 26, only Geralt's junior by a year. 

Geralt had only grumbled a bit. Weddings were not a part of his culture, they didn’t lavish in resources like the eastern kingdom did, all he had to do was wait for her arrival. He paced his bedroom up in one of the towers, walking around his bed, stuffed and soft, to the adjoining room that would be her chamber. He would just stand there and shake his head. 

He was the Killer Prince, the royal figure who rode into battle, who had the scars to prove himself, who crossed the continent ten times over before he was twenty, who was in charge of keeping the kingdom safe. He didn’t need a woman bickering and nagging at him, trying to get him to become someone else. Especially not one of those miserably weak and tearful Lettenhovians who could barely hold a sword. He’d have to find her a lover so he could have peace. 

He grumbled but…He came to terms with having a woman to have to take care of and bed with a few times a year and bear a child with. He didn’t look forward to it, but he’d come to terms. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

He was waiting by the castle gates for his bride. It was the end of summer, the sun was shining. The guards who’d been stationed at the edge of the kingdom had rode ahead to warn Geralt and to make sure the princess was brought to the castle safely. They warned him that there may be a trick or trap ahead but didn’t say much else. 

Geralt just waited, wearing his finest coat, his hair brushed and tied up in the back. He’d bathed and had a piece of mint he’d been sucking on.

Jaskier was her name. Dandelion. As all the Lettenhoven Royal sisters were named after flowers. Dandelion was a weed but flower no less, Geralt supposed. He’d been thinking about it, how Dandelions were still flowers but not like Irises or Roses or Tulips or- He heard the carriage passing through the castle gate, blessing his heightened hearing so he could stand at the end of the stairs, perfect posture. 

The buggy that was brought before him wasn’t what he expected. It wasn’t decorated to the Lettenhovian extent nor was it painted or anything. He’d been to Lettenhove, he'd seen the brightly painted carriages and carefully carved wood at every corner, the flowers and paints, the art that covered every inch of the kingdom. This was not that. 

It was a small buggy with glassless windows and thick red curtains. It had to be freezing inside, Geralt thought as he stepped towards it. He thought it could fall apart at any moment as he grabbed for the door. 

He opened the door himself, not waiting for the near drunk driver who hadn’t made the move to get down. Geralt stared into the darkness, noticing all the belongings that should have been in the following carriage were stacked inside along with the princess. 

“Thank you dear Fr- Oh! Hello! You must be Geralt.” The woman said as she blinked, adjusting to the sunlight. Geralt held his hand out to her, reaching into the darkness for her callused hand. She grabbed it, trusting and sure the prince would keep her steady as he hopped down to the cobblestone. 

Geralt looked her over as soon as her boots hit the ground. 

She wasn’t quite what he expected. She was tall, almost his height, had short brown hair cropped around her ears, and strong muscles from what he could tell through her snug long sleeves. Her face wasn’t painted brightly like some of the women Geralt had encountered in Lettenhoven. She had a slight blue tint painted thinly above her eyelashes and her lips were painted a soft pink. She wasn’t even dressed like the other women he’d seen in the eastern kingdom. She had on boots, well made and hardened leather, heavy woolen pants under her layered skirts, and no fancy hat that would get caught in the ever bearing wind. 

She was pretty. Different from what Geralt was anticipating. 

“You're not quite what I expected” Jaskier said plainly as she blinked and fixed her dress hem. Geralt was… not monstrous at all. She’d been told he was a Witcher, a creature, a beast, a monster . Something that would maul her and leave like a bear merely playing with its food. But she was almost shocked at the beautiful man standing before her. The man who’d offered her a hand without giving her a chance to struggle. 

“It’s that bad?” Geralt asked, smirking as he dusted off her sleeves and back, seeing the trip had done a number on her wardrobe. She smiled and looked down, shying away from his golden gaze, hair falling into her face. 

“To be truthful, I was told you were a creature made by the devil himself. I thought maybe I could have sex with you once and avoid you the rest of my life.” Jaskier confessed, cheeks growing pink. Finally she looked up to catch the prince shaking his head with a slight flash of teeth, a grin, she thought. 

“Not the worst tale told of us Witchers.” Geralt said as he locked arms with the princess, guiding her toward the castle doors and out of the cold. 

Jaskier couldn’t help her own smile. What a sarcastic ass. Charming. Unbelievably charming. And handsome. And steady, solid as he helped her off the slick stone steps. 

“How am I doing?” Geralt asked and opened the castle door welcoming her in. She stomped her feet, shaking the muck and snow off her boots. He watched her stomp as he brushed his own boots off in the line of brushes by the entry. 

“Quite handsome. Really nice hair. Me?” Jaskier asked as he said and gave a twirl, the heft of layered skirts fanning out. She’d hope she was presentable but given the ease that she felt around him, she felt little anxiety. Geralt nodded and tried not to give away that he’d just seen up her skirts, seeing her floral embroidered bloomers. 

“Womanly. Different from what I expected from a Lettenhovian princess.” Geralt said honestly and walked toward the staircase that would bring them to the king. He’d need to present Jaskier soon as possible to Vesemir, just proving the King of Lettenhovian had really sent one of his daughters and that she was presentable and alive. 

“I guess we’ll both have to relearn what we thought.” Jaskier answered and hoisted her skirts up beginning the trek up the stairs. She let herself breathe, really breathe, for the first time since passing through the castle gates. There’s much more time to get to know if the prince was really honest. But so far, she hadn’t found anything to fear. Hopefully he just finds her… enough. And doesn’t force her into anything too horrid. That would be great. 

“Hmm” Geralt said as he looked over her body. Even her pants covered ankles that showed as she picked up her skirts. He just knew she’d be a handful. The scuffs and bark marks on her boots were enough to tell him that. Nagging wives usually didn’t climb trees or wear slacks under their skirts. They usually didn’t arrive to a foreign land without handmaids or other accompaniment. They usually would shy away from Geralt’s eyes, stay disgusted at his offered hand. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

Vesemir, King of Morhen, Wolf of the North, Father to Devils. Jaskier bowed before the throne, ducking her head deeply before Geralt touched her arm, raising her back up. 

“We don’t do that here, Jaskier. Just close your eyes.” Geralt whispered to her when he noticed she’d bowed like the eastern kingdoms did, bending almost in half. Jaskier stood up, face burning red from embarrassment. She was already messing up, and in front of the king no less. The king waved his hand, dismissing it. 

“She’ll learn. It's a high honor where she’s from, isn’t that right, Dandelion?” Vesemir asked as he stepped to the floor, walking towards them. Jaskier swallowed and nodded. 

“You must remember the easterners are a different kind of people, Geralt. You must teach her our customs. Our culture.” The king said facing his son who nodded and rolled his eyes at his father.

“I know.” Geralt said and Vesemir gave him a finger wag, which made the prince grin slightly. Jaskier felt it was wrong to see something between king and prince but when the king turned and took her hands in his own, she didn’t see the king. She saw her husband’s father. Father and son. 

“You’ll be the knot between our kingdoms, our princess. The peace treaty generations have tried to create. I hope you find yourself content and happy here. We’ve done everything we can to try and ready for you. Please let the servants know if you need anything.” Vesemir said seriously, in a voice that made Jaskier feel… safe. Like he was speaking to her , not the princess. She smiled and grabbed his hands, feeling the rough war torn strength that was there. 

“I’m sure I will, your majesty. I’m made of tougher stuff than my sisters. I am… I am happy to be here.” She said and meant it. She was tougher than her sisters, had to be. She was happy to be there. Anything to get away from the eyes of Lettenhove, the eyes of the doctors and her mother. To live with wolves was better than to love with judgment. 

Vesemir squeezed her hands and smiled. He gave Geralt a pat on the shoulder as they left, giving him a look that Jaskier barely caught. 

“I’ll show you our rooms. My younger brother, Lambert, used to board next to me in the West Tower. We’ve made that room yours. Feel free to paint or decorate as you like.” Geralt said and guided them toward another staircase, one that gently spiraled up. Jaskier followed, her head rolling through all the things that could mean. Was Geralt sexless? Was he more aggressive because of that? Was she given a private room because she’s a woman? Was it because he didn’t want to sleep with her? Was it because he knew? Did he know? Why was she given her own room?

Though she didn’t have to worry long because they were stopped in front of two doors. One that was adorned with a carved G and one with a small carved flower carved on it. She could see the slight blush creeping onto the prince's cheek at it. 

“Eskel thinks himself an artist. I told him of your arrival when you passed the castle gates.” Geralt explained and rubbed at the carved flower. Eskel had been more than happy to have marked the door for the princess, covering the L that had been there. He’d been the one to carve their initials on the doors in the first place, after all. 

“It’s beautiful, I’ll have to give him my thanks.” Jaskier said as her heart fluttered. It was so kind. She didn’t expect that from the elder prince. 

Geralt pulled out the key from a slot in the doorframe, handing it to her. She took it, the hefty gold solid and plain. 

“You can lock it when you like. Most of the doors here lock, feel free to store the key where you like but there’s slots carved in the door.” Geralt explained and opened the door, pushing it so they could go inside. Jaskier gasped. 

The walls were painted white with sunlight yellow details, the floor was stone but was covered by a beautifully weaved blue rug, crochet or knitted by the look of it, and behind the bed, which sat gently on a simple bedframe, was a mural of a flower field. It looked just like the ones back home in Lettenhove, the all colored flowers stretching forever under the blue sky that was spattered with light cottony clouds. There was a desk made of light wood under the curved window, a chair to match, a large wardrobe that stretched one wall of the room, centered with a large mirror, and a small round table with two chairs and a white tablecloth. 

“This is beautiful… Oh Geralt, this is wonderful.” She said and opened the doors of the wardrobe, thinking of how she was going to organize her instruments, she even peaked in her own private bathroom that was painted the same as her bedroom. Geralt stood just inside the room, not wanting to make a habit of intruding. 

“This door, it’s one of the few in the castle that locks from both sides.” He said and pointed to the rather shallow door beside the desk. She’s barely noticed it. She nodded and walked to it, looking at Geralt expectantly. 

“It goes to my room.” Geralt said and opened it, walking into his own bedroom. 

Jaskier followed, looking at the change of decor. The room was painted deep blue, the richest color she had ever seen. The bed was shove in a corner, the dark wood four poster frame was carved intricatly with the heads of animals and different creatures. The desk was covered in books and papers, pens and inkwells, obvious of hard work being done. The wardrobe was only half a wall here, the other half being a map, drawn on canvas, of the entire continent. Jaskier couldn’t help herself as she walked to the table, looking down at the papers that created the map from her own castle to the Morhener’s own. There were candles on shelves around the table, burnt down to the glass, nights spent working, she thought. 

She finally sat down at the table and Geralt cleared his throat, having produced two glasses and a bottle of bubbly alcohol from somewhere. 

“We drink with marriage. I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be offered much more. We should start now.” The prince explained, pouring them each a glass when he sat down. Jaskier smiled and nodded, hoping Geralt wasn’t a mean drunk. 

Geralt felt his own cheeks heat up at the thought of tomorrow. He hoped Jaskier wasn’t a crying drunk. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

“No I did! I chopped all the firewood because he couldn’t! I don’t know how I arrived in one piece or how I got here! And it was so cold Geralt, I thought I may freeze to death.” Jaskier said imploringly as she drank from the bottle of some sweeter alcohol. She felt warm and loose, the candles were lit and cast the most stunning shapes across Geralt’s face. She almost wanted to reach out and touch but contained herself. 

Geralt nodded and leaned his head against the wall, showing off his strong neck. 

“You were scared?” Geralt asked, looking at her. She was red cheeked and her eyes were big and dark, drunk. He couldn’t picture her chopping wood on the side of a Morhen road. Hell, he couldn’t picture a princess being on a Morhen road without being in freezing terror. But she shook her head confidently, looking like she’d just tasted something sour. 

“I was angry. I was angry that not only would my family ship me off to someone who they thought was a beast, but to send me in a crate on wheels! They send the dead off with more dignity!” Jaskier said, hand waving around in the air. She was angry, no, furious, to have been treated in such a way. None of her sisters would have ever been transported like this. 

“I’ll never do that to you.” Geralt reassured, seeing the anger building in her eyes. He would never put a princess in peril like that. Never send her away in anything that wasn’t fit. He watched her eyes, sparkling blue, as they met his own. 

“I hope so, dear.”She said and reached out across the table, short nails covered in sparkling polish catching the light as she covered his hand. She squeezed his hand, genuine smile cresting on her lips. He couldn’t help flipping his hand over so their palms were together, noting only slightly that her hands were freezing. 

“Why are you, out of all your sisters, named after a weed and not a flower?” Geralt asked before he took another big drink from the bottle. He watched something… sad, flash across the princess’s face. She looked down at the floor, sock covered foot tracing patterns on the floor. 

“Well I guess… I guess when I was born they thought me unsuitable. I was born late, not in the manor but rather at an inn, and I guess… I guess they thought it suited me. My sisters are all… I was different. Have always been different, I suppose.” Jaskier explained, eyes unable to reach the prince’s. She felt her chest hurt, even the alcohol was unable to keep that self disgust at bay. Geralt cleared his throat and shook the now empty bottle. It was late, they should head to bed soon. 

“I think it’s good. Dandelions are one of the few flowers that bloom here. They’re the first ones we see. We don’t have peonies or irises. We cook with them, most of the villages have yellow gardens that are just dandelions. The children call them lion flowers, give them to soldiers for strength. Not so bad.” Geralt said and stood up, straightening himself before offering the princess a hand to escort her to her room.  

“Perhaps.” She said and gave him a long look before closing the door that separated them. They would have to talk everything through tomorrow, a good rest was necessary. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

The next day Jaskier opened the dividing door welding a pair of scissors and a decorative comb. Dressed in a white nightgown and a pair of socks, and her cheeks pinked with blush but void of makeup. Geralt looked up from his desk, dressed for the day and reading through documents about Lettenhovian foods. He was a bit amused at her pink cheeks and lack of clothing. 

“You are my husband, you must tend to my needs and know my culture. You have to cut my hair. It’s your duty.” Jaskier announced as she came into his room, sitting down promptly in front of his mirror. His own combs and scissors laying there with his straight razor and shaving cream. She held her own silver scissors and matching comb in front of her. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at her through the mirror as he walked up behind her. No one ever just came into his room, unless it was the servants to clean or Eskel to deliver documents, no one ever just… allowed themselves in. 

“Is it your culture to barge into a prince's room?” He asked and took the comb and scissors, running his thumb across the blade, noting they were extremely sharp and polished to perfection. Jaskier swallowed and watched him, a hint of nervousness in her eyes as her hands knotted up the font of her gown. 

“It is my culture to share space with my husband. What yours is mine, and what mine is yours. If I… overstep, tell me.” Jaskier explained and watched Geralt put the scissors in his pocket in favor of combing through her hair. She had already brushed it, trying to make it soft and straight, easy to cut. 

Geralt took a long moment taking her in. She smelled like flowers and cut vegetation, her hair was powder soft and dry, her collarbones were visible in her dress, showing off more of her soft milky skin. He thought she looked lovely, warm and gentle. 

“Do you just want me to trim it?” He asked quietly and watched her look down, trying to hide her smile. She looked back up at him through the mirror. 

“Yes, I will ask you to cut it when the summer comes around. But for now just a trim. Whatever you see fit.” Jaskier explained and watched Geralt nod, pulling the scissors back out to start cutting away small amounts. 

“Am I to let you cut my hair?” Geralt asked as he brushed through her hair, getting all the cuttings to fall to the floor. Jaskier thought about it, all she was ever taught about grooming a husband was to shave their face because Lettenhovian men cut each other's hair. And certainly didn’t keep long hair like the prince’s. 

“How is it in your culture?” She asked and was turned around in the chair, staring face to face with Geralt who carefully cut the hair around her face. His golden eyes inches from her own. She swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how red her face was getting. 

“Hair is hair. It gets ripped out, chopped off, and covered in viscera. Keep it clean or cut it off.” Geralt finished and stood back up and turned her back toward the mirror. Jaskier smiled at herself. It wasn’t noticeable, he’d taken so little. She nodded and stood up, dusting herself off. 

“Then yes. I am to cut your hair in turn. When in need, I will also shave your face if I feel the need. You keep it short I see so that probably won’t be an issue.” Jaskier said and looked over his stubbly jaw. She had always, secretly, liked men who were a little less clean shaven. 

Geralt nodded and felt his own throat tighten at the thought of someone else’s hand on his razor. It will pass , he told himself. 

“I will… go get dressed for the day. The handmaids put my clothes away this morning while I bathed. Will you bring me to breakfast?” Jaskier explained and stood in the door, waiting for an answer. She had slept in, the handmaids explaining how breakfast was served at daylight. She didn’t want to get lost in the castle quite yet, not knowing what kind of people were kept within its walls. 

“Dress and we can ask the kitchen for something. We’re to travel to the village today. They have a welcoming celebration planned.” Geralt explained and looked at his daily list, they were supposed to be present in the village for lunch for the celebration. He was almost excited to see how the princess did on horseback down the mountain. It was a long ride from the castle to the village, through rough trails and thick forest. 

“What should I wear for it? A ball-” Jaskier asked, anxiety heavy in her voice. Geralt cut her off with a sharp look. Almost like he was testing her. 

“Pants would be most suitable for the ride down.” He answered, waiting for her answer. But was only met with a smile and the soft close of the dividing door. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

Not only did she don a pair of thick trousers, colored like cherries, but the matching doublet over a high necked pink blouse. She painted her lips in a matching crimson and lined her eyes with a darker, maroon. She felt quite pretty with two golden clips in her hair, holding it from her face. 

She happily went through the castle, walking independently as her boot heels tapped against the floors. This was a game, she was sure, Geralt wanted to know if she was tough enough. And she was ready to play, so as she passed the armory that was beside the front doors she slipped inside, smiling at the knight who was shining swords. She grabbed a dagger from a shelf, feeling the point before slipping it into her pocket. She felt far more than ready to play. 

Geralt was in front of the castle talking with two guards, telling them that the horse’s blankets needed to be washed before the cold was too harsh at night. He heard the door creak open, waiting to see the princess, curious about her choice of clothes but was brought short. 

She was stunning . The knights beside him stopped what they were doing, enraptured by the princess just as Geralt was. Jaskier stood at the top of the stairs, blue eyes, seemingly ever bluer if possible, staring right into the prince’s own.

It was only when one of the knights dropped a saddle bag that Geralt came back to himself. He stepped up to her, looking her over. The doublet clung to the gentle curve of her waist, the trousers snug on her hips and soft rear, her hair was off her face, showing off her fanning eyelashes and smooth skin, and even down to her boots, worn but sturdy and reliable, seemed evermore charming. 

“Am I ready?” Jaskier teased as she looked up at Geralt, smile wide on her face. The prince rolled his eyes and huffed. He was impressed. She was dressed for a tough trip, yet done up like a doll. It was… he liked it. 

“This is Pegasus, he’s yours. He knows this land as much as I do. Do you-” Geralt explained about to kneel down to give the princess a boost, knowing the horse was quite tall, but she had already hoisted herself up into the saddle. She looked down at him, smug expression on her face. Geralt shook his head and mounted Roach, the mare huffed at his weight. As she always did. 

Jaskier laughed and petted at the white furred horse’s neck. She looked at Geralt, feeling a certain tick in her chest at the sight of him atop the horse. 

“I’ll be counting on him then because I cannot tell directions.” She said with a smile, truth heavy in her voice. Geralt looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to explain but she blinding started toward the castle gate. He was quick to get ahead of her, to guide her down the mountain. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

The village adored their Princess. Their królewna. Jaskier had spotted a lute player in the courtyard, a young boy who only knew two songs and traded him some candies to borrow his instrument. Soon the entire village was drawn to the square, dancing and singing along with Jaskier as she sang. She was more than happy as she strummed the slightly out of tune lute, jumping onto tables and onto the fountain, smile brighter than the sun.

The people adored her, children seeing her as something magical and bright chasing her around for candies that she had stuffed in her pockets, grandmothers seeing her as a shining light of a woman, soldiers returned home seeing her the shining star in the ever dark night. 

They stayed longer than they should have. Geralt was feared still, few men coming to speak with him. But when Jaskier dragged him to the square and sat him next to a group of elderly women, he didn’t feel quite so… outcasted. 

Jaskier dazzled and danced, moving and singing like a songbird in the sky. It was where she was meant to be. And it made Geralt feel squeezed in the chest. His wife, the songbird of Morhen. 

He needed a drink.

[reshramlove1ob]

I’m going back to my roots with an outworldish AU that has a simple concept. No i won’t elaborate

[demaparbat-hp]

The Perfect Prince

[cammy-mcspammy]

More au images bc why not

[coffebits]

Princess bride AU✨

[bigfatbreak]

the grand galloping gala goes a widdle differently when the local aristocrats treat Twilight Not Great considering she's been given the reputation of "monster that haunts the library" oop

bonus woonas

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

young and adult versions.

teamgreen/teamblack au — jaehaera & jaehaerys, aegon iii & viserys ii targaryen.

credits for the art drawing to @crazytom0712

[totallyottie99]

Full page is done

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader mood board

Masterlist: The Hunt ; Night Off ; Neglectful Jealousy ; Devious Forgiveness ; Innocent Touch ; Awkward After ; Please ; Missing ; Pretense ; Leave ; Lonely ; Fallen ; Run ; Gloomy ; Questions ; Particular Risk ; New ; Love

Related Blog: @eraenaa (longer fics and one shots)

Your knight, Aemond, who was always by your side, no matter how much you tried to bribe him, he will not fall for it. He was always trailing you, refusing you to be out of sight, not because of duty but because he simply needed to be around you.

You knight, Aemond, who will always savor your scent whenever you are near him. Who would always find an excuse to touch your skin, may it be him offering his hand as you walked down the stairs or him wrapping his arms around your frame whenever the measliest of threats arose, disguising his passion as protection.

Your knight, Aemond, who would always stare down and intimidate any suitor of yours. Trailing closely behind as you tried to get to know them, always quick to go in between and meddle when he felt you were warming up with any lord or prince. Unable to stomach seeing you grow agreeable with your courtships.

Your knight, Aemond, who was always there the second you called for him. It does not matter if he has barely rested or eaten; the moment you send for him, he will be rushing down the castle halls, tending to your needs, no matter how insignificant or even frivolous they are. 

Your knight, Aemond, who would always listen intently to your babbling. Nodding along as you tell him your encounters for the day though he already knew because he was always by your side. Occasionally indulging you with his silver-tongued quips as he would sometimes be the one to share with you the latest gossip in court. 

Your knight, Aemond, who had been growing quite obvious with his affection for you. Sending you small tokens and flowers. He would often utilize the lie that the gifts were sent by an unnamed lord when, in reality, they all came from him. 

Your knight Aemond, who knew fully well that yearning for you would make no difference because whatever love you two would have for each other would be a love that would be denied and could not be, for how could a knight ever deserve a princess? 

Your knight, Aemond, who would settle to just being your sworn protector just as long as he had you near. Because as dreadful it was to see you be bound to another, nothing would compare to not having you near him; at those moments when he stood by your side, he indulged himself with a fantasy and pretended that you were his. 

[metamatronic]

part 1 (?) of the reunion comic - there’s a written follow-up here

[THIS ARTIST HASN’T PLAYED TOTK YET SO PLEASE NO SPOILERS]

[bblackthing]

I had a thought that, if they could use the firebending to boost they jumps, so why not give a big boost to each other.

It's olso was inspired by the same fic by @fireflaked (hi, again), but also by every fic where Zuko & Azula basically work together/have a better relationship)

It's also my first action animation... I don't like it, but I tried

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Fairytale Series:

Rapunzel

Part 1 Part 2

Yandere Witch x Rapunzel Reader x Yandere Prince

For many, long years you had resided in an isolated tower deep in the forest with an elderly woman named Agnes and her daughter Hilda. The three of you had lived here together and created a nice home for yourselves in a place no man could ever harm you… or at least that’s what Agnes instilled in you and Hilda since you were children. Men were evil and couldn’t be trusted. They would lure you in with sweet words and promises, but then they’d swallow you whole like a beast.

Since you were ten, Hilda and Agnes never let you lift a finger nor did they let you outside. “It’s dangerous for you. You’re far too delicate for the forest. Leave it to us, (your name).” Agnes would always tell you before she took Hilda with her to forage and hunt.

Despite your years with the two of them, Agnes told you that you were not biologically her child. “Hilda and I found you in the forest one day. You were just a baby and we couldn’t leave you… so you can stay here with us, forever. You’re ours, my dear.”

They’d brush your hair as it slowly began to grow longer than the length of the tower. Your long hair was used to come and go after Agnes and Hilda sealed off the door to ‘keep you safe.’

Every time you’d ask to go out or inquire about what they’d see, Agnes would shut you down. “Curiosity killed the cat, dear. You just wait here, we will be back.”

The mother and daughter often took trips for supplies. Whether it was berries or necessities, their trips only took a few hours… sometimes they took a few days. It just depended on what they needed. The pair never let the supplies dwindle much. Agnes hated being irresponsible when it came to stock.

It was when you were over the age of twenty that Agnes’s health took a turn. Hilda would often weep with you as she held you close. You and Hilda had grown so close… Hilda swore she wouldn’t let her mother down. That’d she’d carry on her will. (A will you didn’t have a clue about)

When Agnes passed away, Hilda immediately took charge over the chores around the tower. The beautiful young woman often fretted over you as she made sure the two of you were cared for. She took over brushing your long locks and gathering supplies.

Sometimes Hilda would braid her long black hair with hers. So ‘the two of you were connected.’ It was always fun whenever Hilda would let you play with her hair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back! I can bring you back your favorite berries.” Hilda would gave you a reassuring smile before she headed out into the forest. You watched her form until she disappeared into the trees.

So you’d get back to painting the walls with a hum. Your hair draped behind you like a waterfall as you sat on your homemade swing.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud clank on the side of your tower. What on earth was that?!

You jumped off your swing and ran to look at the balcony. A grappling hook was slung around the metal frame as a hooded figure began to scale the tower. Who we that?!

You went to shut the balcony door but ended up slipping on your own hair. Your back hit the floor as you whined in pain. Your eyes wide in terror at the knight that now stood in front of you as he quickly winded up the rope. The knight mumbled some curses before he shoved the grappling hook in his bag.

“W-who are-“ the knight pushed you further into the tower as he put a gloved hand over your mouth. Your body trembled when you looked into their lilac eyes. You’d never seen such pretty eyes before…

There was shouting below and the sound of hooves. Was this knight being pursued? You couldn’t tell since the knight held you firmly in their arms until the voices disappeared into the distance.

The knight breathed a sigh of relief before they released her. You quickly shoved the knight away from you as you scooted your body as far away from them as you could. You swore your heart was about to leap from your chest.

“Who are you?” You shakily asked but the knight gave you a small bow. Their hands slipped off the silver helmet on their head to reveal a rather striking individual with sharp features and long, lavender hair.

“I apologize for my intrusion. I’m Prince Vinicio of the Corcoran kingdom.” The knight’s voice was a lot deeper than she expected. How could a woman have such a deep voice?

“Prince? Don’t you mean princess?” You softly asked which made the knight erupt into laughter.

“No. Despite my rather feminine appearance, I’m male.”Vinicio smiled warmly at you. “I just noticed how long your hair is. Have you been growing it out for a long time-“

You jumped when he reached a hand out to you which made him frown. Vinicio’s mind began to wander as he glanced around your home. Did you live here all alone? This wilderness was not becoming of a lady, especially not one as stunning as you. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“P-please leave. I’m not supposed to talk to men.”

Vinicio frowned but gave you a small bow out of respect. You must be being held against your will in this lonely tower… he’d have to gain your trust to save you.

“I apologize, I’ll take my leave.” Vinicio put his helmet back on but turned to give you one last look. “But can I meet you again tomorrow? I can talk to you from below the tower. I won’t climb up here again.”

You bit your lip. Agnes had always warned you and Hilda about men but Vinicio didn’t seem dangerous… “Okay. But only if you promise to not climb.”

Vinicio smiled warmly at you. “I promise.”

[eraenaa]

Loathe to Love

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

Warnings: ¿Softer Aemond?, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 6,411

Prequel: Blessed Curse

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, who, like her brothers, doesn't have Valyrian characteristics. A scene like at dinner, in which Aemond accuses his nephews of being strong and, consequently, his wife too." (!Not related to the past two fics that were Aemond x Reader Wife!)

A blessing or a curse? Neither of you knew how to take and label this marriage devised by your grandsire. It was a final plea to unite your estranged family, offering you as Aemond’s bride because the King’s fading mind was still set on how you and Aemond were entirely fond of each other in childhood. However, that sentiment had completely changed during the fateful night in Driftmark. Whatever fondness you and your uncle had in childhood had rolled away with the tides in your supposed father’s home. Affection turned into animosity, and animosity quickly turned into resentment.

However, with the marriage you and Aemond were succumbed to, you both tried your most ardent effort to work through past differences. And with half a year since your union, you and Aemond had almost fully buried the grievances you harbored against each other. Gone now was the reluctant prince who stood by the end of Sept waiting for his bride, who was practically dragged down the aisle. Looks of unbridled hatred had faded and turned to looks of passion and longing. Deep-rooted loathing was slowly fading into love that both of you had yet to admit to the other. 

You broke fast in the gardens with your husband, a daily tradition that you and him established since the first days of your marriage. Most of the time, it would be just the two of you, but on some days, you two would be joined by his siblings and his mother, who surprisingly did not hold such great bitterness for you when compared to other members of your kin. And on a day such as this, you were joined by the queen and her only daughter, Helaena. “I saw the maids preparing some of the guest chambers. Are we to host a lord and their house, my Queen?” You asked your mother through marriage with a tilt of your head, your hand intertwined with your husband’s under a table, hidden from anyone’s view. 

Aemond raised his eye from the book he was reading and placed it on his mother. “Not particularly guests… your mother and your brothers are set to visit,” She replied, and your brows shot up in surprise. Aemond turned to you, plush lips agape in shock. “Did you not know?” The queen asked, and you shook your head. “No… they had not written to me about such matters,” You said, your lips twitching into a smile of excitement as you had terribly missed our family. You turned to your husband; whatever reaction he had was hidden behind his ever-stoic expression. However, you did feel his hold on your hand grow tighter. Though his animosity towards you had died with every kiss shared and every hour spent in each other’s arms, you could not say that that would be the case for the other members of your family. You could practically feel the tantalizing anger within radiating off him. 

“I’m going to the tiltyard,” Aemond suddenly announced and abruptly stood up, making you sigh. His mother and sister nodded, but before his departure from breakfast, you felt him place a chaste kiss on your temple before walking off. Leaving you wide-eyed and blushing before his kin for neither of you had displayed such affections so openly. The touches and kisses and pleasures you shared were saved for the privacy of your marital chambers, and to have him do such an affectionate action in front of others was completely uncharacteristic of him. You lower your head as you feel your cheeks burn red, but if you had kept your head held up high, you would see a small smile on the queen’s lips, for she too was shocked and amused by her son’s actions. Never had she imagined for her favored son to find a wife that would bring out the warmth and tenderness in him that everyone believed to be lost the day his eye was taken by your younger brother.

For the rest of the day, you were busied with your engagements with the other ladies of the court to the point that the day had faded into the night. It was past the usual time of your supper, and you were certain your husband was preparing himself for bed, which is why it was a surprise when you entered your marital chambers with Aemond seated by the table where a meal for both of you lay, untouched. “You still have not eaten?” You asked as you stood behind your seat that was across your husband’s. “I was waiting for you,” Was all he said, as he motioned for you to sit. You blinked at him; the warm, flickering light of the fire illuminated his silver locks that were unique to your house but you had not inherited. The silhouette cast made his angular, Valyrian features more prominent, and you could not help but feel a small pang of jealousy, for you were never blessed with such acclaimed features that your house was celebrated for. 

You licked your lips and removed your gaze from your husband’s lilac eye. You took your seat and quietly watched him as he placed items of food onto your plate. “You should have eaten earlier,” you said quietly, knowing that Aemond’s last meal was the one you shared in the morning, for your husband did not eat luncheon nor any other small meal to aid him between the morning and the evening. “Like I’ve said, I was waiting for you,” He said as he poured wine into your chalice. You flashed him a small smile of gratitude, and like always, he gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. “How was your day?” You asked before taking a bit of the temped meal that had been waiting for you along with your husband. “Fine. I trained, I read, and then accompanied my grandsire with business,” he said and took a sip of wine. “And yours?” He asked, and you smiled as you began to recall your day. 

Aemond nodded along as he ate, and you went on to tell him about your day. He had no intention of telling you, but this was his second-most favorite time of each day. He quickly had gotten used to listening to you babble and tell him about the ventures you had just hours before. He had no particular care about the subjects of which you spoke of; all he cared about was hearing you speak. Watching you as you would reenact your encounters or how your expression would change when you told him about the latest gossip in court. He would always note how your voice would grow an octave higher when you spoke of an event you found most entertaining or exciting, and he loved gazing into your beguiling, brown eyes that would twinkle in the candlelight.

“Will you accompany me tomorrow?” You asked as you had finished retelling your day to your husband. “To where?” Aemond asked as he was slightly disappointed that you did not have many anecdotes to share that night; you would usually have prolonged stories that Aemond would listen attentively to until he had fished his meal. “To welcome my mother, father, and brothers by the pits when they arrive,” You say and play with the peas on your plate. Aemond was silent for a moment; you took in a deep breath and thought that perhaps your request was a bit much for him. Though you expected him to act civilly with your kin, wanting him to join you in welcoming them was perhaps a bit much. “Nevermind… I ca—“ Your husband interrupted your sentence. “I shall join you,” he said, and your lips agape in shock once more. 

Aemond bit his tongue to hinder himself from smiling widely at the expression that flashed before your pretty face. His urges announced himself as his eye caught your plump lips parted; amusement and arousal swirling within him. “You will?” You asked, making certain you had heard no false agreement. “My lady wife had made a simple request; of course, I shall oblige it,” He answered and felt his heart flutter as a beaming smile spread to your lips. Aemond felt fire in his veins as you stood from your seat and went to him to place a supposed chaste kiss on his lips, but Aemond wanted more. You gasped as you were pulled to sit on his lap, your kiss deepening with each moment and your body aching with need as Aemond’s hands were holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You feel your husband’s need through his trousers and through your dress. 

You moaned at the taste of wine on his tongue. His hand traveled toward your bosom, cupping your tit through the bodice of your dress, his fingers undoing the laces of your gown but the two of you never parted your intertwined lips. Aemond groaned as you accidentally bit his lip, but you would take it that he liked the occurrence as you felt his hips buck upwards and seek friction. Aemond reluctantly parted your lips to gasp for air; he watched you pant, eyes filled with longing and lust, lips swollen and shined with a glossy shine of him. 

You yelped as your husband punched you on the table, sweeping away the meal you two had just shared, the plates and cutlery falling onto the floor with a loud noise, but neither of you heard as you two were completely lost and dazed with want for each other. You pulled Aemond towards you as you wanted to feel his lips once more. Aemond had fully undone the laces of your gown, and you felt the sleeves of it draping off and the hem of it being risen by your husband. You hummed in question as you felt Aemond push you to lie down on the wooden table. You propped yourself by your elbows to see what he was doing. Your eyes locked with his lone one as he sank to his knees. The hem of your dress had bundled up to your waist, and Aemond placed his cold hands at each of your thighs. 

You bit harshly at your lower lip as he placed kisses on each side of your thighs, nipping the soft skin making you whimper at the stinging pain that he would immediately soothe with his tongue. “Aemond,” you called as he continued to tease you, his tongue licking strips upward to your needing heart but would abruptly stop before inching closer towards the place you need his tongue most. “Yes, wife?” He hummed, and you huffed as you sensed tease in his voice. “Please,” You pleaded in ancient tongue, and there was a long pause before he obliged your request. You breathed heavily as Aemond sucked on your delicate pearl, him humming in delight as he tasted your essence and as well to add to your pleasure. 

Your moans accompanied the crackle of the fire as Aemond inserted two of his fingers, him curling the calloused digits and spurring you quickly to your peak. You could not understand how he was so skilled in such endeavors, able to make you quickly come undone even though he confessed himself that before you, he had only laid with a woman once, on the behest of his older brother. 

Aemond smirked as he gazed at you laying on the table you two had your meals on, your pretty face that everyone tried to sell as plain still contorted in pleasure that he was the cause of. Aemond brought his fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean, his other hand undoing the laces of his trousers as his cock painfully sought to be inside you. Aemond had always believed himself to be indifferent to the acts of intimacy, but he quickly learned that that sentiment was completely false when it came to you. On the night after your marriage, he had no plan to partake in the marital act, ready to cut his palm and pretend he beaded you so the court would not have a new gossip piece in the morning. However, that plan was quickly forgotten by just the sight of you undressing behind a divider. The candlelight illuminated your form and created a silhouette of your frame undressing and caused Aemond to need greatly. And ever since that night, the pleasures of the flesh he always thought he was indifferent to quickly turned, and he now harbored the same needing patterns he saw in his brother that he used to frown upon. 

Aemond locked your lips and assisted you off the table, you had thought he would lead you towards your bed, but you frowned through your kiss as he turned you around in his arms, your back resting against his chest, his pulsating length resting against your still hiked up gown. You feel Aemond’s lips move from your lip to your neck, his cold hands forcing your gown downwards and letting it pool at your feet, leaving you exposed. You whispered as his hands made their way to cup and squeeze your breast. The sensitive buds grew taut at the coldness of touch. You hear Aemond take in a deep breath of your scent, and you let out a bubbling moan as his length is placed in the crevice of your bottom, Aemond letting it glide in between your bum. 

You gasped in shock as you felt Aemond push you down onto the table, bending you over the sturdy wood and abruptly entering you without warning. You let out a wry moan as you did not know if you should focus on the pain or pleasure he gave. Aemond bit harshly at his lip as he was incredibly pleasured by the new angle he was taking you in, as well as the sight of you bent over the wooden table. He bundled your dark hair into his hands, feeling the soft silky waves and pulling on it and earning a moan from your lips and caused a further tightening in your cunt. “It would seem that my wife likes to be fucked like a common whore,” He gritted in between thrusts. Aemond knew he pleasured you well, but with this new position, your moans had only grown louder than the past times you had laid. Your cunt grew tighter and more wet, and you were quicker to come undone once more. 

“Yes… yes, Aemond! Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” You cried as he pounded at you from behind. Aemond griped the plump flesh of your behind, watching as the skin grew red from his hold; he moved his hands to your waist as he felt the urge of release coming to him as well. Your moans rang louder in his ears, his name slipping from your lips, urging him to come quickly than past nights. He groaned out your name as he spilled his seed deep inside you, hoping that his seed would finally take as he was already zealous with the thought of you swole with his child. Your dazed mind could barely comprehend Aemond assisting you up from your bent position because all your body could focus on was the peak you had reached and his lips against yours once more. You let your husband carry you to bed, him tucking you in his arms like always, and you drifted to sleep wholly satisfied. 

Aemond placed his gaze upon you, who was practically bouncing in excitement at your spot next to him. You two stood by the pits as a welcoming party for your kin. Aemond placed great restrain upon himself to not let his animosity show when he spotted your brothers landing your little dragons. “Sister!” He heard the boy who took his eye scream, and Aemond felt you let go of his hand to run to your brother. He did not want to entertain the small pang in his heart as you readily let go of his hold to run and warmly embrace the boy who had maimed him beyond repair, but he knew that with your marriage, whatever fondness and understanding you and Aemond had and will develop will be divided with your love for your true family. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” You gushed and kissed Lucerys’ cheek; you smiled widely that even though your brother was on the cusp of adolescence, he melted of talc and your mother’s oils. “Your favoritism is showing, sister,” You hear Jacaerys tease, and you sigh in amusement, letting go of Lucerys and moving to embrace your older brother. 

Aemond watched you as you greeted your family with such open warmth and love that he and his kin were never accustomed to. Aemond shifted his gaze to your younger brother, who had a wary look in his oak eyes. Aemond bit his cheeks as he stared down the boy who cowardly shifted his gaze and went closer to you, like a little scared pup hiding behind Aemond’s wife. 

“Where are Baela and Rheana?” You asked as you let go of your embrace of Jacaerys,  looking around the pits. “They went on the ship along with Joffery and the babes. They shall reach by nightfall,” he answered, and you nodded. Your brother’s gaze shifted between you and your husband, who stood by the side, “How… how are you, sister? Is…” He trailed as Aemond challenged his gaze. You gave him a small smile, “I’m fine, Jacaerys, perfectly fine, better now that you are all here.” You said, and Jacaerys hesitantly nodded, not completely believing your sentiments. “Tala,” You hear yourself being called by your stepfather, who stands beside your mother, and you hurriedly go in their direction. “My sweet girl!” Your mother smiled and kissed your cheek as you went to embrace her. “You look more cheery since we left you. Are they treating you well? Or do I have to behead that cunt of a husband that you have?” Daemon asked, and your smile faltered at his words. “Father,” You warned, and you heard him sigh. “They are treating me perfectly well,” You said, and just like Jacaerys, Daemond gave an unconvinced nod. 

You turn to Aemond, who still stands idly by the side; you make hastened steps towards your husband as members of your family remove their riding gear. “Do you wish to return to the keep?” You asked, learning he had grown bored and impatient. He turned his body to face you, his brow raised in question. “I could ride with them in the wheelhouse; you can return to your training if you wish,” You smiled. Aemond studied your eyes; he knew that the words you uttered were for his benefit, but he could not help but think it was you driving him away as you would rather spend time with your family than him. 

“It is not that I wish for you to leave, but if you would rather return to your training or reading, I would completely understand,” You added, and Aemond froze at your words; it was as if you could read his mind. He did not know how you did it, but you had this ability to know things about him without him even saying them out loud. He was quick to learn that you could see past his hardened exterior and see the intent and thoughts he kept to himself. You were the only person who knew him with such a deep level of understanding. “It is fine. I shall wait for you, and we could ride back together to the keep,” He said, and his cold heart ran warm as you flashed him with your beaming smile. 

“What did they do to her?” Jacaerys asked as he stood near his brother and parents. “That last time we were here, she was completely ready to sail off to Essos just to escape him,” he added, and Daemon shook his head, removing himself from the conversation as he, too, was perplexed at how you completely turned your views towards this marriage. “I believe that is what love does,” Rhaenyra sighed, and Daemon scoffed in ridicule from a distance, and Jacaerys quickly shook his head. “Love? You practically had to drag her down the aisle! That is not love… that is some work by a potion slipped into her wine!” Jacaerys disagreed, and your mother breathed out a laugh. “Believe what you want, but your sister is stronger than to let a potion alter her emotions; that affection is brought by love,” She sighed as she, too, was surprised by the outcome of this marriage but was entirely pleased to learn that you found love in a person that all believed had none. 

When all of you returned to the castle, your husband went straight to the tiltyard whilst your parents set off to visit your grandsire. You, however, accompanied your brothers as they wanted to tour around the keep that was once their home. Throughout your whole tour, you could not help but grow curious at the curious and prying glances thrown at the three of you that had faded during the moons of your return to the Red Keep. “They keep staring at us,” You hear Lucerys whisper to Jacareys, who still kept his head held high despite being in the den of vipers. 

“Ignore them,” You whispered to your younger brother. You smile as Jacaeyrs pulls Lucerys towards the tiltyard, hurriedly going down the steps to explore the place they used to frequent as children. You stood by the railings, your eyes catching the flutter of silver hair, your husband training with his sword along with Ser Criston, whom he battled with. You stood steady by your spot by the balcony that overlooks the tiltyard, leaning in on the railing as you watched Aemond impressively train with his sword. It was truly a wonder to watch Aemond with his sword; he was able to command the room with each swing and movement he did. Captivating everyone as he simulated the battlefield, even your brothers stopped their reminiscing to watch him train. Far was he from the little boy he tripped over his wooden sword and struggled to even keep it upright. 

“Well done, my prince, you will be winning tourneys at no time,” You hear Ser Kristen compliment the prince he had molded into a warrior as the tip of Aemond’s sword placed at the knight’s neck. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” You hear your husband reply as you descended down the stairs, making your way to your brothers. “Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked as you paused behind Lucerys and Jacaerys. Aemond’s challenging gaze turned to you, who announced her presence. You stared into his lilac eye and saw it somewhat softened. Aemond clenched his jaw and lowered his sword as the crowd that surrounded him began to dissolve. A clear path leading to you was made, and Aemond crossed it, forgetting about his want to challenge his nephews.

“You were most impressive with your sword,” You complimented lowly as you felt Aemond guide you to the side, and he placed his hand on your lower back. “I am glad that you found that impressive, little wife,” He hummed and wiped his sword, ignoring the stares of your brothers who stood by the side. “Perhaps I should wonder more often to the tiltyard; I would not want to miss an opportunity to watch my husband best the most acclaimed knights of the realm.” You feel your heart flutter as Aemond’s lips twitch into a small smirk. “Perhaps you should,” He said, unable to control the amusement that laced his voice and shinned brightly in his eye. 

“Do you believe what Mother says? That they are in love?” Jacaerys whispered to Lucerys, who looked at you smiling upon your husband, “I… I do not know, perhaps,” he whispered as he noted that the smile on your lips was no pretense nor was it forced. And the gleam in your eyes could only be translated into love. Lucerys shifted his gaze back to his brother as you walked off and Aemond returned to training. “But how? How could our sister love someone like him?” Jacaerys asked incredulously, his voice growing a bit louder. 

Aemond clenched his jaw as he heard your brother’s words. It was a danger to all that rage was quickly bubbling inside him, and he had a weapon in his hold. The one-eyed prince took in deep breaths to calm himself, reminding himself that you were just by the side waiting and watching him. 

But a gnawing feeling in his gut had settled, and he too started to wonder as to how you could ever love someone like him. It is no secret that you and he were raised with opposing views of the world and even clashing families as well. His mother never approved of how your mother had raised you; everything about yours and your brother’s conception and upbringing had brought shame upon the Targaryen name and reputation. And the years before were nothing short of hatred. Yes, the both of you were fond of each other in childhood, but is that enough to undo the following years of animosity and contempt? Will these past moons that were filled with shared understanding and longing be enough to undo the resentment of the past? 

It was enough for him. You were enough of a reason for him to let go of the grudges and grievances harbored. By some divine, paradoxical power, your blessed touch was the only touch that could tend and stitch Aemond’s broken past created by your own kin. Even with all the traditions and honor that were desecrated by your mere birth, Aemond could not help but love you, even if he had not said it out loud. No matter your differences, no matter the truth of your illegitimacy, he loved you truly. 

However, that overflowing affection he had towards you was for you and you alone. The civility he knew that he should display was slipping out from his hold as old hatred for your brothers was starting to wake, and Aemond was not entirely certain if he could control the burning rage in his veins once more. 

You sat next to your husband for a rare family dinner; it was the first time the whole of your clan had been together since your and Aemond’s wedding. You smiled fondly as Baela and Rhaena had already arrived along with your youngest brothers, who were now fast asleep in the nursery. You kept your secret hold on Aemond’s hand as the dinner proceeded, your heart full of joy as you wanted to erase the emotions you were feeling the last time the whole of the family was together with something more pleasant. Gone now was the hatred and agony you felt in your heart as your grandsire ordered your marriage with Aemond. The only thing you now felt for your husband was love. It could be considered ridiculous that with just half a year of marriage, all the deep-rooted anger and ire from the past had completely decimated and turned into blooming love, but that was the truth of it. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table.” The king said “The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” His final plea for peace was supposed to be yours and Aemond’s marriage, but that seemed to do little for the others to bury the grievances made years before. Your hold on Aemond’s hand tightened as you Grandsire removed his mask and exposed his decaying face. “My own face is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king… But your father.” He said and turned to his children, “Your brother,” the king turned to Daemon. “Your husband,” he said to the queen. “And your grandsire.” He finished turning to you and your siblings. “Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts.” He ended. 

You were so entrapped by the speech given by your grandsire that you had not even realized that in the midst of that heartfelt moment, your husband was having a contest of stares amongst your brothers. Not a word by the king affected nor lessened the hatred in their hearts for each other. 

You watched and listened intently as toast from both sides of your families started to circulate to the table, obliging the king’s request for civility and the possibility of unification for your house. By the end of the toasts, the intimate feast once more commenced, and your smile only grew with each passing moment of peace. However, it was quickly taken from you as a roasted pig was placed in front of you and Aemond, our gaze flying to your younger brother, who snickered as he recalled the cruel jest they made at Aemond’s expense years before. “Lucerys,” you hissed sharply in warning. Your heart skipped a beat as your husband let go of your hold and slammed his clenched fist on the table, rendering the room silent. “Final tribute,” He announced, the attention of the entire room upon him. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace… Luc… and Joffery,” He began, and you felt your hands grow cold at his words, already knowing where this would lead. “Each of them handsome, wise…” He trailed, catching your eyes that pleaded for him to stop and not speak of offense. He, however, ignored your pleas. “Strong,” He ended, and you feel your heart painfully pit in your chest. Your gaze flew to your lap, and you softly shook your head in disappointment, for you had foolishly believed that your husband would at least grow somewhat sensitive at the matter of you and your brother’s true paternity. “Come. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys!” He announced, and you felt a painful twist in your stomach. 

The peaceful meal between your kin that you had longed for had turned ugly and violent; you shook your head as your husband and his brother, along with your brothers, waltzed back into old patterns and began to brawl and fight each other. You shook your head and stood from your seat, quietly exiting the room and leaving the fight that the other tried to break up. Aemond watched your departing figure, disappointment oozing off your frame as you exited the hall. He turned to your brothers' red and angered faces, and it only dawned upon him the severity of his offense. He was ready to go after you, but his mother pulling on his arm hindered him, the queen scolding her grown son as if he were a boy. 

Moments after, Aemond rushed to your chambers in dire need to speak with you, but you were not there. Aemond walked the darkened corridors of the keep, searching every spot you would frequent but to no avail. Aemond halted in his steps as he heard footsteps and voices approaching. “I’ve told you that they were not suited for each other,” Aemond heard your stepfather say, voice enraged. “You saw how openly he disparaged and humiliated her and her siblings— what more if they were behind closed doors?” Daemon seethed, him having half the mind to march to the king and demand an annulment of your marriage with Aemond.

Aemond clenched his fists in anger as he heard how low the opinion of your stepfather had of him, but that anger was being overpowered by guilt as he recalled your pleading face earlier as you quietly begged him not to speak offense. But Aemond could no longer control himself as being in the presence of your brothers brought back the uninhibited rage he genuinely thought he could control for your sake. Aemond took in a deep breath and stomped off, determined to find you. He scoured the entirety of the keep in search of you, with each passing moment that you were not found added to his guilt and the pang in his chest. It was nearing the hour of the wolf, and Aemond still had not found you. Aemond rarely felt fear; he refused to be in fear of anything, but just by just the mere hours of your absence had him drowning in dread and despair.

Aemond thought of retiring back to your chambers and perhaps try to find you when the sun had risen, but his body could not physically rest without your presence. Aemond found him straying towards the gardens, his feet carrying him towards the weirwood tree that you two had often frequented in childhood. He halted in his steps as he heard quiet sobs and sniffling, his knees growing weak at the sight of your body curled upon the trunk of the tree, your face in your hands as you tried to stifle your sobs. Aemond made cautious steps towards you, swallowing thickly as he had never succumbed to such guilt and pain before; it was unbearable to see you cry— more so for he knew that the reason for your tears was him. 

Aemond felt his breathing caught in his throat as you lifted your gaze, and your bloodshot eyes met his. “Why?” You managed to ask, your voice hoarse and filled with emotion. It was too much; Aemond wanted to fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness; he could not take the way you stared up at him with such great sadness. “Why… why would you do such a thing? Why could you not l…” You could not even make yourself finish your words as a bubbling sob of angered sadness took over you. You tightly shut your eyes as Aemond fell on his knees before you, trying to take hold of your hand, but you over away from his touch. 

“I know of the resentment you have for my siblings— for me because we are bastards and because Lucerys had taken your eye. It was foolish for me to think that with our marriage, perhaps that enmity in you would lessen or at least be concealed enough that you would not seek out revenge so… so openly and as well as disparage me and my honor,” You say, your voice shaking as you try to take hold of your cries. “I did not mean to offend you; that was not aimed toward you,” Aemond said, and you shook your head. “They are my brothers, Aemond. Questioning their paternity means to question mine as well. Wounding them would be wounding me as well,” You countered and shook your head as Aemond moved to take hold of your hands. 

“I… I know it is difficult for you to be subjected to a room with my kin— especially my brothers, but could you not have let this one-night slide past peacefully? I am not seeking out your forgiveness; I was just hoping for something that resembled peace, just for one night,” You said lowly, voice trembling with your sobs and the cool night air that gusted around the gardens. Aemond sighed and rested his head against your clasped hands, still on his knees as you sat before him dejectedly. “I’m… I’m sorry, my love,” He whispered, and you froze, trying to decipher if you had heard him correctly. Never once had you heard him apologize nor use such an endearment. 

“I apologize. I was consumed by my anger, and I could not control my rage. I should have kept my composure,” He said and looked up at your face, tear-stained cheeks flushed with sadness, bloodshot eyes in question, and pink lips agape in mystification. “I’m sorry,” Aemond said once more and placed a kiss on your knuckles. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but at the same time, it rolled effortlessly as he knew it would be his saving grace not to lose you. You sat quietly, uncertain what to reply, though you had been enveloped in rage and sorrow, by Aemond’s actions, it somehow miraculously faded by his words and touch. 

“You called me ‘love’,” was all you could manage to say, the word still ringing in your ears even though you knew you should focus on the other matter. Aemond scrunched his brows as he gazed at your face, “I… I suppose I did,” He said, not even realizing the word slipped out his lips. He had been wanting to call you that endearment for weeks now, but he thought you would not take it well or that the softness and affection of it would lessen his stoic exterior. “Do you love me?” You could not help but ask, preparing yourself for the blow if it proves that your judgment was false. Aemond’s cold hands turned a degree colder as you asked the question. With each moment of silence, you feel your heart pit further, your mind scolding you for asking such a query. After another moment of prolonged silence, you sighed and were ready to stand, ready to mourn a different type of sadness. 

“Of course I do,” Aemond finally spoke, “I love you,” He added, determined for you to believe his words. You were stunned at his confession that words eluded you, and all you could do was pull him close and kiss his lips. “I do not care about your paternity. I don’t think I ever truly did… I only acted as such to appease my mother and her father. And I know I have played the part well, acting as if I harbor loathing for you ever since childhood, but I could never resent you, not truly.” Aemond sighed as your lips parted, and you smiled widely against his lips. Tears of melancholy turned into tears of glee. 

“You love me,” You mused as you cupped his cheeks, your thumb gently brushing the raised skin of his scar. “I love you.” Aemond confirmed, and he hummed as you kissed his lips once more. The events at supper were long forgotten as you and he finally shared the affection you both harbored long ago but were just too afraid to say out loud. 

[circusmantis]

The stp grind continues once more!

[a-todd-illustration]

Yue and Iroh bonding over their distaste for something someone said.

[coffebits]

Zelda x Princess AU✨ (Miracle Max scene)