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authurials · 2 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐄.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . aemond had never considered how much it meant to you to spend the holidays together

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations ( MINORS DNI ! ), sexual implications, strong language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is day twelve of my 12 days of house of the dragon celebration! only one day left to go with the finale of my five part aemond miniseries, the language of flowers; as well as a bonus gift i’m excited to share with you all. also, it was brought to my attention that i should possibly considering turning my targayen steel company idea into a series for the entire targaryen family since i also mentioned it in my daemon one shot, tinsel. would anyone be interested in seeing more surrounding the family business i created? let me know your thoughts on that and on this one shot--as always, your support and feedback means so much to me! also, aemond is canonically a cat guy and vhagar would be the chonkiest of chonks--that is all

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 the weight of the bags on your arms as you attempted to unlock the door of your apartment, key stabbing everywhere around the knob but not into the lock; finally, however, you gave a sigh of relief when it finally slid home, turning it just as your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. Cursing, you pushed open the door and stumbled across the marbled flooring in the entrance as you looked for a place to set your items down. Phone still going off, you plopped your purchases unceremoniously down a few feet from the door with a sigh before shoving your hand in your pocket, the newest challenge finding it in the deep fur-lined chasm. Groaning, you finally arrest it from its prison and press accept just before it's surely being forwarded to your voicemail.

“Hello?” You greeted breathlessly, not having had time to really look at the caller ID.

“Took you an awfully long time to answer,” your boyfriend opened with teasingly. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were up to no good….”

“Aemond!” You exclaimed excitedly, face flushed from all the exertion as you stepped over the bags and walked further into the apartment; it was a sleek and expensive modern penthouse with ceiling high wall to wall windows and black accented furniture. “Sorry, I just got back from shopping.”

“How much did you spend this time?” He chuckled.

“Oh hush,” you rolled your eyes. “You know I always help with my part of the credit card bill–not like Mr. Steel Company couldn’t afford it on his own anyways.”

“Fair enough,” he snorted. “I thought you finished your Christmas shopping already, though?”

“I did,” you confirmed, walking into the living room and kneeling in front of the pet crate, “but I still needed to get some stuff for my mom and….you.”

“....you know I don’t like gift giving,” Aemond finally sighed on the other end.

You respond with a sigh of your own, opening the latch of the crate and letting out your boyfriend’s ancient cat, Vhagar, who slipped out with surprise litheness despite her substantial circumference. Smiling, you gave her ashy black fur a stroke before she was toddling off to no doubt find somewhere comfortable to lay for the rest of the day.

“This is gift receiving not giving,” you correct, standing up to your full height.

“Yes, but now that you’ve gotten me something I’m obligated to–” he began.

“You’re not obligated to do anything,” you interject sourly. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do–I know thinking of something to get is just more you have to put on your plate. I got you a gift because I wanted to, not because I expected anything in return; you give me everything I could need or want throughout the year after all, the least I can do is pick up the slack on Christmas.”

Aemond and you had begun seeing each other two years ago when you connected on a sugar baby website; it was one of those high end ones with background checks and lots of red tape to get through before either party could start seeking out their preferred company. You had applied to make a little extra cash during graduate school, the class load not really allowing you the possibility of work hours enough to pay for your shoebox apartment and other necessities; you had gone in initially with the promise that it would only be until you graduated and found steady work. However, it had been nearly six months since your graduation and you had quickly found good money in your dream field; still you found yourself walking through the place you now shared with Aemond to make sure Vhagar had food in her bowl lest she go on the hunt and find it empty. He had officially asked you to move in right after you finished your master’s, no longer having the excuse that you liked the privacy of your own space to study. Every boundary you had ever placed between you and the silver-haired Icarus who’d weaseled his way into your heart was slowly but surely surpassed by his determination to have you completely to himself.

No longer managed by the website you’d first met on, Aemond still served as a sugar daddy of sorts to you, ensuring all your needs were met so that you could pursue your passions. It wasn’t much of a feat for him really considering he had come into his fortune at birth, born into the Targaryen steel dynasty with a silver spoon in his mouth; and he continued to make more and more money as a director on his half-sister’s board–a position he had to fight tooth and nail for against popular belief. From what little you understood about his family–who he tried his hardest to keep you away from as much as possibly–there had been a lot of conflict in the years before you had met him; all you knew was it had been somewhat resolved and now Aemond only talked to his family once in awhile over facetime between infrequent visits. Usually one of those special occasions would be Christmas, but Aemond and you had agreed upon staying home this year for the holidays for a nice and intimate night together.

“While we’re on the subject,” you hummed, grabbing a can of Vhagar’s premium wet food from the designated cabinet full of the stuff, “when are you getting home? It’s almost six and I thought we were going to cook dinner together….”

It left a bad enough taste in your mouth that he had gone into the office at all on Christmas Eve, but you weren’t going to lecture him on having a strong work ethic; it was one of the things you found most attractive about him, but it also came with its downfall as he often picked his work over you.

“That’s why I’m calling,” if you had believed him capable you would have thought your boyfriend sounded nervous. “The reason I had to come into today was that there was an issue with one of our deals in Essos; it fell through after an altercation between Aegon and the negotiator, now Rhaenyra wants me to go and see if I can’t salvage it.”

“Aemond,” you groaned like a petulant child, setting the can of cat food harshly down on the counter, “you promised–”

“I know what I promised,” he cut you off, sounding irritated, “but I also have other responsibilities and can’t always anticipate when something is going to come up at work, you know that.”

“I know that better than anyone,” you assured with a mutter, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck when my boyfriend chooses to go off on some impromptu business trip when he promised he’d be home for Christmas.”

“Don’t try and guilt me,” he scolded. “You’re better than that.”

“You know, Aemond,” you laughed with humor, grabbing the can opener, “I don’t think I am. I don’t even think I’m above begging at this point if it means you’ll pick me for once over that fucking job.”

Angrily cutting open the wet food, you walked over to Vhagar’s bowl and grabbed it, taking it over to the sink to be washed as you tucked your phone between your ear and shoulder.

“That’s not far,” Aemond sighed tiredly, as if he was exhausted with your conversation–with your emotions. “I need to work–”

“Not all the damn time,” you snorted, scrubbing the dried pate off the sides of the bejeweled food bowl. “You have plenty of money, Aemond, so it’s obviously not about making more; you just love to get out of shit by using work as an excuse.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything,” he insisted, “but Rhaenyra is counting on me to fix this mess.”

“It’s Aegon’s mess,” you argued, “so why isn’t he fixing it? Or perhaps your sister could take some initiative since she’s the one who stupidly put him in the liaison position in the first place.”

Drying out the bowl, you set it down and carefully placed the perfect puck of gourmet chicken pate into it before walking it back over to Vhagar’s automatic water dispenser; the old she-cat was waddling in just as you finished placing it down, although deaf for the most part it appeared her nose still worked perfectly.

“You know what, Aemond,” you shake your head as you give the cat some loving strokes, “it’s whatever, do what you gotta do.”

“You’re being childish,” he snapped.

“And you’re being an asshole,” you shot back. “I get it–the holidays don’t mean shit to you but they do to me; it was important that we got to spend them together but apparently what I want isn’t good enough for you so I’m washing my hands of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He said–you could practically hear him grinding his teeth in frustration.

“It means I’m done giving this situation my energy,” you reply, rubbing a hand over your face as you stand back up. “It’s just a waste of my time and I’d rather not be upset about something I can’t change, especially on Christmas Eve.”

“....so you’re not going to be mad at me if I go to Essos?” He followed up with after a few moments, his voice softening in the face of his unsureness. You knew for all of his confidence, Aemond was still that young boy who so desperately wanted the approval of an emotionally absent father and a mother who coped with her loveless marriage by turning to the Faith; he hated it when you were mad at him, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated with the situation he had put you in. You had banked all your holiday plans on him being there, turning down your own friends who had invited you to go skiing with them and had already left earlier that week to do so. Your own family was spread out all over and not particularly close, at most usually just opening gifts together over facetime with the customary bottle of wine.

“It wouldn’t do me any good to be mad,” you shake your head with a sigh. “I need to go, Aemond–I got cold stuff that needs to be put away; have a safe trip.”

“I love–” You cut him off by hanging up, knowing it was wrong even as you did it; you did not want his proclamations of love right now, not when you wanted to stew in your anger just a bit longer. Soon enough you’d get over it and probably call him to apologize for being such a bitch, but for now you let it fester as you got to work putting your groceries away.

You had gotten these small whole chickens to roast for dinner, alongside some potatoes, carrots, and asparagus that you planned to simmer alongside them; for dessert you had ordered a chocolate lava cake from Aemond’s favorite restaurant because you were doubtful of your ability to mirror the recipe perfectly. You would at least save the cake for when he returned, but you had no intention of delaying your holiday dinner just because he wasn’t going to be there; making plans inside your head to face time with your mom while you cooked, you finished putting all the food away before beginning to tackle the presents.

For your mom you’d gotten her some of the expensive perfume she liked from the Highgarden collection, as well as a couple of nice sweaters and some of her favorite candies; it would be late getting delivered but she’d already received the painting you’d commissioned from Aemond’s sister Helaena. Much the talented artist, the pale-haired girl had perfectly rendered the likeness of your family onto the canvas using one of the reference pictures you’d given her; knowing your mom loved renaissance style art you’d asked Helaena to pant you as such, thinking it would be a nice centerpiece over your childhood home’s fireplace. Thinking of her reaction when she opened it had your moon lightening as you carried the gifts into the living room to wrap later.

Done eating, Vhagar trailed behind you in curiosity as you returned for the last of the items–Aemonds present; another commission, it was wrapped in a velvety black material as you hoisted it up, not surprised for the first time at its weight. Instead of placing that in the living room, you took it to your shared room and laid it on the bed, deciding to deal with it later before leaving and closing the door behind you.

The rest of the night went without incident, with you ignoring your phone in case Aemond decided to call back as you focused in on cooking dinner and a nice glass of blackberry wine. Your mother having not answered, you settled for putting on a Christmas movie in the living room and setting up your wrapping station as the chicken cooked. Once that was ready, you returned to the kitchen to start on your buttery garlic reduction, and needing your phone for the recipe you took note of the notification as you turned on the screen:

3 missed calls from Aemond.

Hesitating, you decided after a moment to let him sweat it out a little bit longer as you continued on making dinner; you didn’t want to further upset either of you by continuing a conversation where neither was willing to give. You both wanted different outcomes and one of you would be eventually forced to concede for the other, and most likely as always that would end up being you. You knew Aemond’s work was important and it was something he was passionate about, you just wished he was as passionate about spending time with you as he was about putting out the fires his family created for the business. Still, you’d never ask him to dull that passion to satisfy your own wants and needs as that wouldn’t be right, so instead you decided it was best not to revisit the argument and to instead spend this year doing separate things for Christmas. You wanted to cook dinner and wrap your presents and drink copious amounts of wine while watching A Christmas Story; and when all of that was done, you wanted to soak in a warm bath full of an absurd amount of bubbles and then curl up with Vhagar for a good night’s sleep. The cat in question had been of a particular comfort as she laid constantly near your feet in hopes of catching any scraps you might drop; occasionally you did so on purpose, with a smile on your face as you finished your reduction and moved on to the salad.

It was as you were losing yourself in the chopping of the lettuce that you heard the front door open and slam close, Aemond’s voice following as he called out to you. Stilling, knife still in hand, you turned around to see him striding through the doorway, stopping when he saw you standing there. For a moment, neither of you said anything, you were too stunned and he flushed from what you assumed was the cold winds outside.

“What are you doing here?” You finally find the right thing to ask.

“You weren’t answering my calls,” he frowned, brow furrowed and the hint of a pout on his beautiful lips.

“I didn’t want to,” you answered honestly, turning around to set your knife back on the counter, grabbing clumps of the chopped lettuce and putting them in a glass bowl. “Wouldn’t do me any good.”

“You know I hate it when you do that silent treatment bullshit,” he gritted out; you could feel the heat of his gaze on your back as you occupied yourself with finishing your salad.

“It’s not the silent treatment, Aemond,” you defended. “I’m just not going to waste my time listening to you rationalize why it’s more important to go halfway across the world instead of staying here with me like you promised. All it does is force me to acquiesce to the point and you know I hate when you do that to me; makes me feel like I have no reason to be upset anymore because I ended up ‘agreeing’ with you in the end.”

“Could you at least look at me while we talk?” He bitterly requests.

“You’re the one that interrupted me while I’m in the middle of doing something,” you point out. “I seem to remember you doing about the same thing all those times I came into your study and tried to get you to talk to me about this….and about that.”

“And again, I need to work.” “--work.” You finished together.

“Both of us know we’re far from starving, Aemond,” you roll your eyes, sweeping your arm around the kitchen that had all the latest high tech appliances. “You could’ve afforded not to play the savior one time. It’s not like I ask you to shirk your responsibility for me all the time, but you did promise there would be no work getting in the way of us celebrating this year. And you know, maybe it’s my fault for getting my hopes up this time around, I should’ve known it would get screwed up somehow.”

Silence spread out between as you tossed your salad ingredients in the vinaigrette dressing you’d picked out; Vhagar had long since gotten up from her spot to greet her owner, purring heavily as she rubbed her head on his ankles until he picked her up.

“It’s fine really,” you finally admit truthfully, “or at least it will be. I’ll get over it and we can always celebrate when you get back, it’s not really as big of a deal as either of us are making it out to be.”

“If it matters to you then it’s a big deal,” Aemond insisted quietly–you could hear him moving further into the room until he was standing by your side.

“Your work matters to you too,” you glance over at his face, biting your lip at the contrite look on his face. “I don’t want to make you feel as if you have to choose between it and me, but this one time I really wish you had chosen me.”

Setting your wooden spoons down, you wipe your hands on your apron and step closer to Aemond, his free coming to wrap itself around your waist and pull you against his body. Vhagar lets out a small meow of protest, shifting to be let down to which her owner obliges before lifting that arm to join the other one. You feel the warm press of his lips against your forehead, eyes trained on the tie of his suit as you suck a deep breath in before letting it shudder out of you. Gods, the love you felt for this man was at times overwhelming; he was sexy and aggravating and the most complex person you’d ever dated, and you loved him more than you could ever put into words.

“Aren’t you going to miss your flight?” You hum as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Not that I’m not happy you came here first, I just–”

“I told Rhae she’d have to find someone else to fix Aegon’s fuck up this time,” he mumbles against your lips, pressing forward for more kisses. “Told her I already had plans with someone more important….”

His hands lowered down your back and to the swell of your ass, cupping each cheek in his hand as he moved your hips together. Flushing, you stared at him in disbelief, cheeks flush and warm as your hands came up to frame his face silently asking for more kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned into your mouth as he pressed you against the counter. “I wasn’t even thinking about how–fuck–how it was the holidays, I just….I just agreed without a second thought like I always do.”

“I know, I know,” you assured him breathlessly, pressing kisses down the length of his jaw and nuzzling at his neck; you rested your head against his shoulder as you both just held each other for a moment.

“Do you want help finishing dinner?” He rubs your cheeks together, hands moving from your bum to your hips and giving them a squeeze.

Smiling, you nod and press one last kiss to his shoulder before pulling away. Together you are able to finish dinner within the hour–Aemond tending to the garlic butter reduction and the chickens as you finish the salad and other sides. As you work you can’t help but look over at your boyfriend every now and then, appreciating his form as he takes off his dress jacket and rolls up his sleeves. You could see the shifting of veins and muscles as he moved about, causing your mouth to salivate in desire as you licked your suddenly dry lips; pushing the initial desire away, you turn your attention back to plating the lava cake carefully. Getting some chocolate on your thumb, you lifted it to your mouth to lick it off but Aemond’s hand on your wrist stopped you; eyes flicking to his, you watched as he pulled it to his lips and sucked it into his mouth, moaning around the digit as he tasted his favorite flavor of chocolate.

“Aemond,” you said, lips parting on a gasp as you felt his touch all the way between your legs.

“Dessert first?” He smirked, popping your thumb out of his mouth as he traced it along the bottom of his lip. “It is a holiday after all….”

“Dinner will get cold,” you replied stupidly as you let him guide you from the kitchen and down the hall to your room; Vhagar followed after, assuming she was about to get some cuddle time with her parents and she made no secret of her displeasure as Aemond kept her from entering upon the door opening.

“You’ll pay for that later,” you joke, walking into the room ahead of him as he closes the door.

“Good thing I got her her favorite treats for Christmas,” he chuckles.

Before anything can go further, you glance at his present on the bed and still, wondering if you should just give it to him now or wait until tomorrow. Deciding on the former, you pick it up and turn to Aemond who stands there expectantly, already working on the buttons of his shirt until he sees what you’re holding.

“Merry Christmas….Eve,” you say bashfully, smile on your face as you hold out the gift.

“Can’t we–” he begins, wanting to wait until after but he stills when he sees the expectant look on his face before he gives you a crooked smile, taking it from your hands. You both sit on the edge of the bed as he undoes the ties of the velvet bag, embroidered beautifully in gold letters with the name of the man who’d made it for you. Once the bag was pulled away the hand-crafted leather scabbard was revealed as was the hilt, a perfect replica of the sword Aemond always showed you in the picture of his ancestors throughout the years. “You didn’t….gods, you did–”

“Since I couldn’t give you the real thing I had it made,” you smiled. “It’s only decorative of course but–”

“It’s perfect,” he spoke softly, still too stunned as he refused to look away from the sword in his laps; his hands wrapped around the hilt as he pulled Blackfyre from the sheath, the metal sleek and polished to perfection. For it to arrive in time for Christmas you had had to order nearly a year in advance, in constant contact with the practicing blacksmith you’d commission just to ensure all the details came out right. “Gods, I have no words….

You smile, knowing you had made the right choice in giving the man who had everything he could possibly need the one thing he really wanted.

“Aegon’s going to be so jealous,” he surprises you by following up with, causing you both to laugh.

“Merry Christmas, Aemond,” you hum, bumping your shoulders together before resting your head upon his.

“Merry Christmas,” he hummed, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword as his other rested against your hip with a gentle squeeze.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 :#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot

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