#so the things Aemond tried to mold himself into

[huramuna]

stoatfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in. 

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head. 

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold. 

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a stoat, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him. 

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be. 

And so it shall be. 

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children. 

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was. 

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late. 

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice. 

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet. 

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you. 

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot. 

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.” 

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.” 

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders. 

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him. 

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there. 

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him. 

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head. 

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it. 

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–” 

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough. 

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

[carebooks]

No one wants to admit the fact that yes, Team Black is right because A) She was named heir by the king and B) having a cock between your legs doesn’t make you a better ruler. it just makes people THINK you’re better.

So, everyone shifts around looking to blame this or that for Rhaenyra’s side or this or that for Aegon’s. And yet no one seems to remember that this whole thing started for one man trying to grab for more power:

Otto Hightower.

He was the one who influenced Rhaenyra be named heir to Viserys, not because he believed in her, but because he didn’t want Daemon on the throne. Daemon was someone he couldn’t control and someone who hated him, he would’ve been removed as Hand immediately. He figured Rhaenyra was the safer option, believing he could mold her and influence her just like he did Viserys.

Then, in 1x02 when seeing her show up for the dragon egg that Daemon stole, Otto saw that Rhaenyra was more alike her uncle than he thought. She couldn’t be controlled and that was a problem. Luckily, he had already been sending his daughter to the king as a backup. Which works when the king proclaims he will marry Alicent.

Once Alicent has had a son, he sees his way back in. Not only is that a new baby boy that the realm will flock to as their new king but this is also his grandson, his blood on the Iron Throne.

And when he sees his daughter choosing Rhaenyra’s side as he’s leaving in 1x05, he leaves her with one last piece of intelligent manipulation and fear, he frighteningly tells her that Rhaenyra will have to put Alicent’s children to the sword if she wants to uphold her claim. (Something we don’t know that she would do because we never got to see her on the throne without any usurping. 1x08 and 1x10 showed us that Rhaenyra is not impulsive, not when it comes to the realm. She is not bloodthirsty nor is she easily swayed, killing her own kin is not something she would do.)

Finally, when his grandson is crowned king and he now has to deal with a 20yo boy who doesn’t know the first thing about politics or ruling, the unthinkable happens and he’s removed as Hand. All that careful planning gone in a second because he overestimated what he was worth to a boy that was raised without love and placed in the highest seat of power in the realm.

So, yes, all of this is on Otto fucking Hightower.

The IRONY of it all is that Alicent’s children would’ve been fine. Aegon didn’t care about the throne, didn’t want it, he wanted to drink and fly Sunfyre. Aemond only coveted the throne because he was mad that he was the second born son and everyone went out of their way to put Aegon on it, someone who he and Aegon-himself agreed was ill-suited for it. And even Daemon wouldn’t have tried anything against them because he knew just how bad that would look for Rhaenyra, they didn’t need the title of kinslayers.

so yeah, in the end, men suck.

[queenvhagar]

Hello,

I saw your “the HOTD characters, the GOT characters the writers are trying to mold them into, and the GOT characters they actually most resemble in the books” take and I have a few questions if you don’t mind:

(Also, please bear with me if these are stupid questions, I haven’t read the books and I’ve only watched a few scenes of the show despite being involved/invested in the fandom hence how I got this info)

How does Alicent have a sense of honor, justice, and understanding of the laws especially if she tried to put her son on the throne?

And your part about Aegon, isn’t he also a rapist in the books? He sexually assaults women, including serving girls and members of the court.

I saw someone mention in the comment the parallel between Theon and Aegon by them both being passed over in favor of their sisters whose father favors over them. How was Aegon passed over if Rhaenyra was in line before him? And he acknowledged the fact that his sister’s throne was being usurped and showed he was reluctant to taking the throne and didn’t feel passed over.

Hi anon! Thanks for the question!

Alicent and honor, justice, and understanding of the laws:

Basically Alicent operates by what she believes is honor and justice, according to traditional Westerosi views of chivalry and the like. Basically, she tries to be the ideal noble lady. Be a good and faithful wife, raise your children, maintain relationships and appearances at court, advocate for your family and your children so they may have a secure future.

In terms of the laws, for thousands of years Westeros has adhered to agnatic primogeniture (as modeled off of real-world history): the right by law and custom of the firstborn legitimate son to inherit the father's title. Most recently, this was reinforced by the Council of 101 AC where the lords decided that Viserys would inherit over Rhaenys and her son's claim to the throne. Basically, all precedent says that the firstborn son should inherit, and it has been this way for generations to maintain stability in the realm.

The problem is Viserys named Rhaenyra before he had sons of his own and he failed to meaningfully reinforce her claim after he had his sons. According to the law and the precedent that made Viserys himself king, Viserys' firstborn son should be king after him. What we have in this case is an argument between the word of the king and the law of the land, which are not necessarily the same thing in this world, especially after the king dies. When the king is alive he can enforce his word, but afterward, it has less importance.

Had Rhaenyra wanted the throne, and to end this argument once and for all (or at least prevent any of her opposition from rallying behind Viserys' sons and pushing for them to rule instead of her, which could lead to war) she or someone on her side would have to exile or kill Viserys' sons for her claim to be the definitively best claim to the throne. This was was added into season 1 but apparently forgotten by the writers. Otto warned Alicent there could be war and her children were in danger. Alicent warned Aegon he was the challenge to Rhaenyra by living and breathing. Then the fears began to grow when Rhaenyra and her side showed they were not afraid to use violence to push for their own power: Aemond's eye was cut out and Rhaenyra offered him tortured to cover her own lies and protect herself politically, and Viserys didn't so much as admonish her children but instead threatened his sons and wife with mutilation if they spoke on it further. Laenor was murdered and Rhaenyra immediately remarried her uncle Daemon, who previously killed his first wife out of convenience and so he could seek a more politically advantageous match. Vaemond Velaryon was murdered to protect Rhaenyra's position (in the show, Daemon executed him from behind without warning for speaking the truth; in the book, Rhaenyra ordered Daemon to take his head and feed his remains to her dragon, and Viserys has other Velaryons' tongues ripped out for questioning Rhaenyra).

By the time Viserys died, Alicent had the backing of the legal and historical precedent, as well as motivation to protect her children from Rhaenyra and Daemon, to install Aegon as king, so she did. No misunderstanding of any prophecy anywhere in the books, as it should be (but the writers are afraid to write complex women with complex motivations out of fear of being seen as anti-feminist, which ironically results in them stripping women of their agency and anger, which is not very feminist at all).

Aegon in the books:

Aegon in the books is portrayed as leaning into the pleasures of life before being named king, drinking, propositioning ladies, yes, likely touching them or grabbing their butts and the like. Certainly not okay by our standards today and not okay for those women back then, though probably not out of the ordinary unfortunately for most highborn men and how women in this world were viewed.

The show however was very deliberate in inserting their original character as Aegon's very first appearance as an adult. Dyana does not exist in the books, nor do any accounts of Aegon violently overpowering servant girls for his pleasure. The vibe in the books is that he's drunk and horny and not that he's some predator. The only detail that might suggest some sadistic nature to Aegon is an account by Mushroom, Rhaenyra's court jester, who lived on Dragonstone with her for years before this point and was never in King's Landing to witness any such event (the child fighting pits detail). It's notable that the show doesn't use most of Mushroom's accounts because they are usually unnecessarily vulgar and raunchy (like him insisting he was there to see Daemon teach Rhaenyra how to pleasure him with her mouth and then Mushroom joined in, or Rhaenyra sent Alicent and Helaena to brothels for anyone to use as they pleased). However the writers decided to use Mushroom's account of Aegon because they clearly want to portray Aegon as this degenerate (as opposed to a flawless and righteous Rhaenyra).

As for when Aegon was crowned, at the Green Council, he was initially reluctant to take the throne when his father named Rhaenyra, as he likely did not feel suited for it or he did not want the responsibility of the position, preferring his own lifestyle. However, Criston Cole, Alicent, and Helaena, who were all present, convinced Aegon that if he did not take the throne, his family's lives could be in danger. This is what led to his choice to take the throne. The show makes points to heavily use the word usurpation to describe crowning Aegon, but in reality there were strong arguments that Aegon had the better claim in the first place, despite the previous king's words. The show also loves calling them the Hightowers despite them being Viserys' children and therefore Targaryens as much as Rhaenyra is (and the whole point is this is a civil war between a family - the Targaryens fighting each other).

[doxypsychlean]

Aegon II Targaryen x reader who is manipulative and uses the motherly love he never got to get her own way. They both love each other but in a toxic yandere kinda way 😂

Wrapped around your finger

Yandere!Aegon ii Targaryen x Yandere!Reader

Headcanons|

Warnings: none? pls tell me if I've missed sth

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: Aegon and Halaena aren't together in this one. It's also pretty sweet, despite their ?yandere? tendencies.

Oh, he really thinks he's that good.

Then you come around.

You, a lady of noble descent and a member of one of the greater houses in Westeros, are also one of his greatest rivals when it comes to having the worst reputation in all the realms.

At first, it's just harmless fun. Nothing too serious.

But then you become a witness to the way his family treats him.

You work your way into his heart and head. I mean, who in their right mind would miss out on the opportunity of being Queen of Westeros one day, amirite?

He bites the bait pretty quickly.

Aegon is obsessed with the way you shower him with affection and love.

He'd be spending most of his time in your arms, begging for you to tell him how much you love, how unfair his mother is to him.

Alicent hates you at first.

The hatred turns to admiration with time, seeing as you gain complete control over her son and mold him to your liking.

But there's more to what she's feeling towards you- fear. With the way things are going, all it would take is for you to snap your fingers and Aegon would kill them all. For you.

You never do, thank the Gods, and for that you have the Queen's utmost respect and gratitude.

She never lays a hand on him again. She doesn't have to, but she's also too scared to do it.

He still drinks, maybe not as much as he did before, but he no longer chases after the servant girls. As if you'd even allow it to happen.

The first time you realize what you feel for him might be actual love, is when you order for some noble lady to be "displaced" from the Red Keep. You didn't like the way she stared at him. Cue, girly losing her eyes for that one.

He was yours and the only way to get him away would be to pull him out of your cold fingers. And you had no intention of dying any time soon.

Aegon rarely goes out of the Red Keep anymore and when he does, you're always with him. The Prince has glued himself to you, whether you like it or not.

On the rare occasions of you two not being present in the castle, golden scales could be seen shimmering high above King's Landing. Sunfyre loves you, the golden beast could feel the strong bond between his rider and you.

Expect lots of expensive gifts- lavish dresses, the rarest perfumes from Essos, jewelry, books, horses, ginormous bouquets of your favorite flowers, commissioned portraits of you two, gold, sweets, etc.

You want it? You'll have it. Simple as that.

He'd never thought of himself as a jealous man, but the second he sees his brother talking to you and you laughing... All Seven Hells break loose.

Aegon turns into a sniveling, whining mess, hands wrapping around you as if his life depends on it.

All the while shooting daggers at Aemond behind your back, daring him to come closer so he could claw his remaining eye out.

Few soft words from you and he's melting.

You love him. He loves you. Everything is more than fine. He completely forgets about Aemond, who's slowly backing away from you two.

You get married not long after. Neither one of your families is brave enough to say a word against the union, seeing as ...

You absolutely never tried to hide it from the public.

You're all over eachother for the most of it.

Both men and women are dropping like flies around you, if they just as much as stared at either of you for a second too long.

Both yours and his family are equally scared and would rather keep away, than try and separate you.

Word spreads around quickly. You're with child.

Aegon's over the moon. You're his. He's yours. Completely.

The prove pops out not long after. Then another. And another.

He would 100% elbow the midwife in the face if she tries to keep him away from you while you're giving birth.

"My Prince, you cannot..."

"Out of my way, you old hag, my wife is in there!"

He was there while you were making them, he has every right to be there while you squeeze them out.

Definitely cries his ass off when he holds your firstborn.

His tunic is discarded quickly as he holds the small bundle close to his bare chest.

Then he wraps one hand around you, almost crushing your neck with how strong he's squeezing you.

Same thing goes down every single time- he storms in, kid comes out, he's bawling his eyes out at the sight.

You pick the dragon eggs for each and every one of them together.

Aegon's just as obsessed with your children, as he is with you.

Gods forbid someone makes one of his little bundles of joy cry...Heads will be flying in all directions, no matter who they belong to.

Not even the Stranger would be able to pull you apart.

Even in death, you'd find a way to be back together.

[farity]

First Night

Pairing: aemond targaryen x unnamed ofc

Warnings: aftermath of sexual trauma, i.e. aemond being dragged to a brothel by aegon.  some blood is spilled.

Summary: the repercussions of a traumatic event when he was 13 come full circle on aemond’s wedding night.

It was over.  She was married to Prince Aemond, and although they had only met twice before their wedding, which was, of course, to forge an alliance between their houses, but despite the rumors about him, she had found the prince to be perfect kind and courteous toward her.

It was more than many experienced, she knew, it was more than her own mother had experienced.

“Be understanding, be pleasant,” her mother had said, “match your mood to his.  If he is cheerful, don’t be dull, and if he is in a serious mood, by the seven, don’t go around telling stupid stories.  It takes time for two people to mold to each other.  Do not hold grudges.”

She glanced at her new husband as he led her out of the Sept and towards the feast hall.  

At first, she had been struck by his angular, sharp features.  The eyepatch, of course, was quite intimidating, as was the scar that ran underneath.  but she thought it only made him look more dangerous.  The blue of his eye was vibrant and at times she felt it pierced right through her, his hair looked like the finest silk she had ever seen, and his lips . . . she looked back up at him and found him staring right at her.

“My apologies, husband, did you say something?”

She could have sworn he was smirking at her.  “Hmmm.  No, I didn’t say a thing.”

They were at the table and she allowed him to hold the chair out for her, moving her train out of the way so she could sit.  “Thank you.”

He said nothing else, simply sat next to her as the first courses were served.

* * * * * 

Aemond had caught his new wife examining him.  She’d glanced over at him and then begun a sort of inspection of his face.  As always, he’d tensed when she looked at his eyepatch.  She had not been unkind about it when they’d first met, but maybe now, faced with the prospect of a permanently scarred man for a husband, she was dreading any intimacy.

His mind immediately went to the first time.  Aegon had dragged him to the brothel and he’d been terrified, torn between running off and facing humiliation and going along with the madam’s instructions and facing humiliation.  It had been an interminable night he had, unsuccessfully, tried to forget.

He had not lain with another woman since.

He had tried, twice, feeling the desire to lose himself in warm, willing flesh, but when it came down to the moment, he had felt pure terror and ended up dismissing the women.  

And now, as he looked at his new wife picking at the food in her plate, he dreaded what would happen later.

* * * * * 

Aemond stalked down the corridor, after nearly punching his brother.  King Aegon had insisted on the traditional bedding ceremony and Aemond had declared no such thing would happen and ordered two of his guards to escort his new wife to their bedchamber.

Aegon, drunk as usual, had insisted, and Aemond had nearly struck him before their mother and sister intervened and took the king away.  

He opened the door and found his new wife surrounded by her ladies.

“My prince,” she said, and when the women stepped back, he saw her standing in a shift of white fabric, her hair loose down her back.  “You may go,” she whispered to her women and folded her hands in front of her.

When the door closed behind him he found he still could not move.  She was innocent and pure and he felt so undeserving.  He kept seeing the women in the brothel, their hands on him, their heavy perfumes and dark rimmed eyes more frightening than alluring.  

“Husband?”

He realized he was still standing by the door.  Taking a few steps, he reached his new wife and took her small hand in his.  “Come, wife.”

He heard her sigh as he pulled her to the bed.  He could please her, he knew, he had been taught that, and he reached under her thin shift, finding the smooth skin of her bare calf.  

She didn’t deny him when he moved higher, stroking her thigh, let him spread her legs apart and settle between them.  She kissed his cheek, stroked his hair, and then he was back in the brothel, being touched and prodded, his body made to react against his will.

Aemond pulled back, sitting up on the bed, facing away from her.

* * * * * 

She’d done something wrong.  She didn’t know what, because all she knew was that she was supposed to let her husband lead, but he was sitting at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, and she didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Don’t.”  

She folded her knees under her, unsure of what to do next.  

“Don’t touch me,” he said harshly, still not looking at her.

“I will not do anything you don’t want me to do,” she replied softly.  

Aemond turned around, slowly.  “I cannot bed you.  Not tonight at least.”

She saw the shame in his gaze, and the fear.  She did not understand it, but she knew it must have taken a lot for him to tell her that much.  They were strangers, and he did not need to tell her anything.  “Then do not bed me tonight.”

He was staring at her.  “The marriage must be consummated.”

She thought for a moment and stepped off the bed.  Taking silent steps, she went to the table that had been set up with wine and fruit for them.  Taking one of the knives and napkins, she walked back to the bed.  Aemond stayed sitting as he was, but she saw the way his shoulders tensed when he saw the knife in her hand.  

Crawling back onto her side of the bed, she pulled back the rest of the covers, and as he watched, sliced the palm of her hand.

Aemond grabbed the knife away from her hand, but said nothing as she let the blood drip onto the sheets, squeezing her hand into a fist.  

“Is this enough?” she asked calmly, then took the napkin and wrapped it around her hand.  

He walked over and tied the ends of the napkin to secure it around her hand.  “Why?”  He sat next to her, his head close to hers.  “Why would you do this?”

“You are my family now,” she whispered softly.  “We may not love each other, maybe not ever, but I will be loyal to my husband.  To you, Aemond.”  

* * * * * 

He stared at her in disbelief.  

“It has been a long day,” she said, “we should go to sleep.”  She laid down on her side, facing away from him, and then was quiet.

The minutes went by and Aemond could only think of her slicing her hand open.  For him.  She had willingly bled for him.  Willingly lied for him.  He walked to the table, cleaned off the tip of the knife and set it back down, and poured himself some wine.  

He stood by the table for a long time, and when he returned to the bed, he noticed she had turned over in her sleep, one arm flung over onto his pillow.  He felt relief begin to course through him.  Making sure not to wake her, he moved her arm back over to her side, then slipped into bed, noticing the blood stain between them.

It was a long time before Aemond fell asleep, but when he did, it was a calm dreamless night.