Duty And Flames

Duty and Flames

Ser Criston Cole x targaryen original female character

Summary:

Daenys Velaryon, oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and, allegedly, Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Hair white like moon, eyes bright like the sun. Many say that she's the copy of her mother in her younger years, with an ethereal beauty and a kind but wild soul.

After six years in Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and her family have to travel back to Kings Landing to secure Lucerys position as heir to Driftmark. What happens when the chaotic members of the Targaryen family reunite again and a particular Lord Commander of the Kingsguard takes a more dark interest in the sweet Daenys?

Chapter 3 - Through halls and gardens

Ser Criston froze. No no no no.

He could pretend that he hadn’t listened and just kept walking, but his stop near the door gave him away.

Before he could turn around, Daenys had already stood up and walked up to him.

“Well, let’s go?” She asked impatiently.

Criston nodded and started walking while breathing heavily as he got anxious, not waiting for the Princess to follow him.

Daenys hurried her step not understanding the weird behavior of the knight. She quickly caught him and tangled her arm in his, as she would often do with her own guard.

As soon as Ser Criston felt her touch, even with the thick layers of his armor, he had to close his eyes for a few seconds to help himself calm down.

With such proximity he had the urge to trace her profile with his eyes but Daenys would certainly notice his inappropriate stares, so he just stared at the long corridor in front of them.

Daenys on the other hand, didn’t hold back. She had never stood that close with Ser Criston, though they lived in the same place for years. They were so close that she could smell the sweat under his armor.

It was odd but Daenys wasn’t disgusted with the smell like she would when her brothers came up to her all sweaty from training. In Ser Criston the smell had a more masculine appeal that intrigued her.

Her eyes slowly observed his features. His lips were plump with a pink coloring, and she kind of wanted to touched them just to see if they were as soft as they looked.

His dark thick hair was shinning, making more visible the few gray hairs that started to grown.

His beard was well trimmed, but would still tickle if a hand or other parts of someone’s body touched it. Daenys wanted to put her hand on his cheek, just to be certain it would tickle, but she didn’t, obviously.

Her face started to get hot, as she was getting red from all the thoughts about the man next to her.

She blamed her behavior on the wine she had drank at supper. Daenys was used to have some adventures with a few boys on Dragonstone, so having these types of thoughts was not a weird thing to her, but Ser Criston wasn’t an ordinary boy. He was a man much older than her, that had a close and almost weird relationship with a woman her family despised.

Ser Criston was so focused on the corridor in front of him and not looking at Daenys, that her flushed and embarrassed face passed unnoticed to him.

“So…is this what you do everyday? Protect the Queen and then go back to your little chambers to sleep a few hours, just to wake up the next day and do the exact same thing?” The silence was killing Daenys, so she tried to strike up a conversation, asking the first thing that came to mind.

It wasn’t the most gracious question, but she had always been curious about kingsguard’s routine.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I do Princess.” Ser Criston was taken aback, not expecting Daenys to engage with him, but he still tried to answer in the most polite way. “And i do not have little chambers. My apartment in the White Sword Tower is very spacious. I’m the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard after all.” He said the last sentence with a smug look, not hiding how proud he was of himself.

Daenys hold her laugh as she mocked Ser Criston in her head.

He only got promoted to Lord Commander because he kisses up Alicent’s ass. He really is a great fighter, but his obedience and submission is what got him there.

Hurried steps were heard, as someone was walking at full speed towards them. Ser Criston immediately got in a defense position, waking from the relaxed trance he had entered.

Ser Lyonel Bentley appeared in front of them, calming as soon as he noticed Daenys’s presence.

“Princess you had me worried. I thought you were just taking your time choosing a book, but then too much time had pass.” His relaxed state disappeared as he realized who was accompanying the princess.

As loyal man to Rhaenyra and her family, Ser Lyonel didn’t like or trust Ser Criston.

He held out his arm for Daenys to take while casting suspicious glances to the other man.

Daenys could smell the tension, felling Ser Criston move uncomfortably in place.

She also felt bad for making her own guard worried, so she took his arm and gave Ser Criston a small smile.

“Sleep well Ser.” She waved her hand gracefully and fluttered her big eyelashes to him.

Ser Criston remained in place, watching Ser Lyonel and Daenys depart. Only when they disappeared down the hall, did he turn walking finally to his room in the White Sword Tower.

As he lay down, feeling free of the heat of his armor, he felt a desire he hadn't felt since Rhaenyra.

He was twitching, and a part of him begged to let his hand go inside his breeches.

After all, he has his own apartment, no one would know.

But he would. His honor would be ruined again. No. He was a respectful knight. The Lord Commander. A little girl wouldn’t destroyed him, again.

Daenys Targaryen was a whore, she knew what she was doing. Fluttering his eyelashes to him like some cheap woman of the Street of Silk. Its all part of a plan from Rhaenyra or Daemon he was sure. If they brought him down, they would be one step closer to Alicent, and she was his Queen after all. And duty was above everything, especially above Targaryen bitches like Daenys.

-

In the morning, after Daenys had shared her breakfast with her brothers, she decided to go for a walk in the Red Keep’s gardens.

It used to be one of her favorite places in the castle, as she loved the colors and shapes of the flowers.

She was exploring the new plants that had grown, when she heard strange noises coming from behind the bushes.

She followed the noise, and as she got closer to it’s source, she finally understood what she was hearing. It was moans.

Embarrassed, Daenys decided to walk back, but when she turned around, a bird flew right in front of her face, scaring her and making her gasp.

“Daenys?” Someone called.

She knew that voice.

When she looked again, she found Aegon but he wasn’t alone. A maid was on her knees, right in the middle of her uncle’s legs.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes at him, moving her feet quickly, dying to get out of there.

She didn’t understand how a boy that once was fun and adoring, had become so depraved.

“Dae wait!” Aegon was running trying to catch her while tying his breeches at the same time.

Using her nickname wasn’t fair, Daenys thought.

Stoping in her track, the princess waited for Aegon to explain himself, not daring to look down from his face.

Aegon had grown into a man, a very attractive one. He was taller and bulkier, but Daenys could not look away from the dark circles under his eyes. For a few seconds she felt for him, remembering how he used to be her best friend, not enjoying the sight of the man in front of her.

But then she recalled the day Aegon had stopped playing with her, and how lonely she had felt at losing her friend and uncle to older women and wine.

“Hm…you look different, beautiful but different.” He said.

Aegon was mesmerized by Daenys figure. He obviously could still notice some of her childhood features, but overall she was a brand new person. The dress she wore that day accentuated her womanly silhouette, showing the top of her breasts, and drawing attention to her waist and hips.

His eyes glued to her body like honey to a spoon.

Daenys notice his stares but honestly, she didn’t mind it. She knew she was charming, and after being obsessed with Aegon pretty much her whole youth, she was okay with him felling the same way about her now.

“Are going to explain yourself? Or can I go?” She questioned.

“There’s not much explaining to do. You saw what you saw.” Aegon scratched his neck, in a nervous mechanism.

“I was expecting at least an apology, you know. After all, me, an innocent girl, just saw a very impure and pervert conduct.” The irony in Daenys’s voice was clear, and even though Aegon was a little taken back that his beloved niece caught him in action, he managed to pick up on that detail.

“You right princess, the next time I put some maid between my legs I will make sure you’re very far away from us. So please, tonight guarantee you don’t pass close to my chambers.” He smirked. “Theirs noises usually tend to spread to the halls.”

Daenys’s face got hot and not knowing what to respond, she gave her uncle a last look before turning back and returning to her room.

When she reached her chambers she found her guard with an annoyed look on his face, as someone was leaning relaxed against her the door waiting for her.

“Aemond?”

Note

Sorry for taking so long my dears ❤️‍🩹 I will try to be faster and publish the next chapter in a few days.

Taglist: @iamavailablesstuff

Duty and Flames

Ser Criston Cole x targaryen original female character

Summary:

Daenys Velaryon, oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and, allegedly, Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Hair white like moon, eyes bright like the sun. Many say that she's the copy of her mother in her younger years, with an ethereal beauty and a kind but wild soul.

After six years in Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and her family have to travel back to Kings Landing to secure Lucerys position as heir to Driftmark. What happens when the chaotic members of the Targaryen family reunite again and a particular Lord Commander of the Kingsguard takes a more dark interest in the sweet Daenys?

Chapter 3 - Through halls and gardens

Ser Criston froze. No no no no.

He could pretend that he didn’t listen and just kept walking, but his stop near the door gave him away.

Before he could turn around, Daenys had already stood up and walked up to him.

“Well, let’s go?” She asked impatiently.

Criston nodded and started walking while breathing heavily as he got anxious, not waiting for the Princess to follow him.

Daenys hurried her step not understanding the weird behavior of the knight. She quickly caught him and tangled her arm in his, as she would often do with her own guard.

As soon as Ser Criston felt her touch, even with the thick layers of his armor, he had to close his eyes for a few seconds to help himself calm down.

With such proximity he had the urge to trace her profile with his eyes but Daenys would certainly notice his inappropriate stares, so he just stared at the long corridor in front of them.

Daenys on the other hand, didn’t hold back. She had never stood that close with Ser Criston, though they lived in the same place for years. They were so close that she could smell the sweat under his armor.

It was odd but Daenys wasn’t disgusted with the smell like she would when her brothers came up to her all sweaty from training. In Ser Criston the smell had a more masculine appeal that intrigued her.

Her eyes slowly observed his features. His lips were plump with a pink coloring, and she kind of wanted to touched them just to see if they were as soft as they looked.

His dark thick hair was shinning, making more visible the few gray hairs that started to grown.

His beard was well trimmed, but would still tickle if a hand or other parts of someone’s body touched it. Daenys wanted to put her hand on his cheek, just to be certain it would tickle, but she didn’t, obviously.

Her face started to get hot, as she was getting red from all the thoughts about the man next to her.

She blamed her behavior on the wine she had drank at supper. Daenys was used to have some adventures with a few boys on Dragonstone, so having these types of thoughts was not a weird thing to her, but Ser Criston wasn’t an ordinary boy. He was a man much older than her, that had a close and almost weird relationship with a woman her family despised.

Ser Criston was so focused on the corridor in front of him and not looking at Daenys, that her flushed and embarrassed face passed unnoticed to him.

“So…is this what you do everyday? Protect the Queen and then go back to your little chambers to sleep a few hours, just to wake up the next day and do the exact same thing?” The silence was killing Daenys, so she tried to strike up a conversation, asking the first thing that came to mind.

It wasn’t the most gracious question, but she had always been curious about kingsguard’s routine.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I do Princess.” Ser Criston was taken aback, not expecting Daenys to engage with him, but he still tried to answer in the most polite way. “And i do not have little chambers. My apartment in the White Sword Tower is very spacious. I’m the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard after all.” He said the last sentence with a smug look, not hiding how proud he was of himself.

Daenys hold her laugh as she mocked Ser Criston in her head.

He only got promoted to Lord Commander because he kisses up Alicent’s ass. He really is a great fighter, but his obedience and submission is what got him there.

Hurried steps were heard, as someone was walking at full speed towards them. Ser Criston immediately got in a defense position, waking from the relaxed trance he had entered.

Ser Lyonel Bentley appeared in front of them, calming as soon as he noticed Daenys’s presence.

“Princess you had me worried. I thought you were just taking your time choosing a book, but then too much time had pass.” His relaxed state disappeared as he realized who was accompanying the princess.

As loyal man to Rhaenyra and her family, Ser Lyonel didn’t like or trust Ser Criston.

He held out his arm for Daenys to take while casting suspicious glances to the other man.

Daenys could smell the tension, felling Ser Criston move uncomfortably in place.

She also felt bad for making her own guard worried, so she took his arm and gave Ser Criston a small smile.

“Sleep well Ser.” She waved her hand gracefully and fluttered her big eyelashes to him.

Ser Criston remained in place, watching Ser Lyonel and Daenys depart. Only when they disappeared down the hall, did he turn walking finally to his room in the White Sword Tower.

As he lay down, feeling free of the heat of his armor, he felt a desire he hadn't felt since Rhaenyra.

He was twitching, and a part of him begged to let his hand go inside his breeches.

After all, he has his own apartment, no one would know.

But he would. His honor would be ruined again. No. He was a respectful knight. The Lord Commander. A little girl wouldn’t destroyed him, again.

Daenys Targaryen was a whore, she knew what she was doing. Fluttering his eyelashes to him like some cheap woman of the Street of Silk. Its all part of a plan from Rhaenyra or Daemon he was sure. If they brought him down, they would be one step closer to Alicent, and she was his Queen after all. And duty was above everything, especially above Targaryen bitches like Daenys.

-

In the morning, after Daenys had shared her breakfast with her brothers, she decided to go for a walk the Red Keep’s gardens.

It used to be one of her favorite places in the castle, as she loved the colors and shapes of the flowers.

She was exploring the new plants that had grown, when she heard strange noises coming from behind the bushes.

She followed the noise, and as she got closer to it’s source, she finally understood what she was hearing. It was moans.

Embarrassed, Daenys decided to walk back, but when she turned around, a bird flew right in front of her face, scaring her and making her gasp.

“Daenys?” Someone called.

She knew that voice.

When she looked to again, she found Aegon but he wasn’t alone. A maid was on her knees, right in the middle of her uncle’s legs.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes at him, moving her feet quickly, dying to get out of there.

She didn’t understand how a boy that once was fun and adoring, had become so depraved.

“Dae wait!” Aegon was running trying to catch her while tying his breeches at the same time.

Using her nickname wasn’t fair, Daenys thought.

Stoping in her track, the princess waited for Aegon to explain himself, not daring to look down from his face.

Aegon had grown into a man, a very attractive one. He was taller and bulkier, but Daenys could not look away from the dark circles under his eyes. For a few seconds she felt for him, remembering how he used to be her best friend, not enjoying the sight of the man in front of her.

But then she recalled the day Aegon had stopped playing with her, and how lonely she had felt at losing her friend and uncle to older women and wine.

“Hm…you look different, beautiful but different.” He said.

Aegon was mesmerized by Daenys figure. He obviously could still notice some of her childhood features, but overall she was a brand new person. The dress she wore that day accentuated her womanly silhouette, showing the top of her breasts, and drawing attention to her waist and hips.

His eyes glued to her body like honey to a spoon.

Daenys notice his stares but honestly, she didn’t mind it. She knew she was charming, and after being obsessed with Aegon pretty much her whole youth, she was okay with him felling the same way about her now.

“Are going to explain yourself? Or can I go?” She questioned.

“There’s not much explaining to do. You saw what you saw.” Aegon scratched his neck, in a nervous mechanism.

“I was expecting at least an apology, you know. After all, me, an innocent girl, just saw a very impure and pervert conduct.” The irony in Daenys’s voice was clear, and even though Aegon was a little taken back that his beloved niece caught him in action, he managed to pick up on that detail.

“You right princess, the next time I put some maid between my legs I will make sure you’re very far away from us. So please, tonight guarantee you don’t pass close to my chambers.” He smirked. “Theirs noises usually tend to spread to the halls.”

Daenys’s face got hot and not knowing what to respond, she gave her uncle a last look before turning back and returning to her room.

When she reached her chambers she found her guard with an annoyed look on his face, as someone was leaning relaxed against her the door waiting for her.

“Aemond?”

Note

Sorry for taking so long my dears ❤️‍🩹 I will try to be faster and publish the next chapter in a few days.

Taglist: @iamavailablesstuff

*checks the age gap between me and my favorite actors*

also me:

"Muña" - Aemond Targaryen x Older Sister!Reader

a/n: reader is described as having hightower features (dark curly hair + dark eyes)

Summary: Aemond longs for you, Aegon's twin.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, oral f and m receiving, face sitting, p in v s*x, choking, tiddy succin, cawk n (light) face slappin, ye olde mommy k*nk, edging, subby aemond

Word Count: 3,820 words

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Despite being only three years older than your little brother, he’s always seemed to consider you as more of a mother figure than an elder sister. Your mother was young when she gave birth to you and your siblings, too young, some would say. And so, the older you grew, the more she relied on you for help, asking you to care for your younger siblings, the way a good sister should. You were put in charge of comforting Aemond when he was teased for not having a dragon, for assisting Helaena with her bug collecting, for stopping Daeron from fighting with Jacaerys.

At first, you resent having to essentially parent your younger sister and brothers, and to a lesser extent, Aegon. The younger ones cling to your skirts all throughout your childhood, though the one who clings to you the most was Aemond. You recall him climbing into your lap when you were seven and he was four, pleading with you to read to him about the Doom of Old Valyria, about Aegon’s Conquest, all manner of things. Aemond always gazes up at you, with his bright blue inquisitive eyes, asking you every question under the sun. You know that, from a young age, Aemond will prove to be the most intelligent of your brothers.

You only grow closer as the years pass and you continue to dote on your little brother, lavishing him with love and attention, even more so after he loses his eye on Driftmark that fateful night. You are the one he cries out for when his pains grow too intense to handle. You sing him to sleep, running your hands through his hair, soothing him till he finally grows tired enough from his weeping to sleep.

Shortly after that, Aemond is devastated to learn his mother has betrothed you to your twin  during the time when he was recovering from his wound. He is quite sure that you don’t love Aegon, at least, not romantically. You and Aegon certainly have a unique bond, Aemond thinks, as though the two of you have a language of your own, living in your own little world. But it isn’t romantic love. Not like the love Aemond feels for you.

Aemond pours all of his energies into training and studying, becoming the best version of himself possible in hopes of impressing you. He preens under your praise whenever you clap for him as he trains with Ser Criston, whenever you compliment his skill in High Valyrian. Your approval and love is all he craves. And he is entirely delighted at the way you continuously put off your looming nuptials with Aegon. It gives him hope that, given time, you will come to see him the way he sees you. The love of his life.

When you wake up, you set about making sure your brothers and Helaena are awake and ready to break their fast together. Despite all of you being fully grown, you and Aegon now being three and twenty, you still find yourself mothering the lot of them. You enter Aemond’s chambers, throwing open his curtains. Aemond sits at the foot of his bed, already awake, scrambling to grab his eyepatch and cover his scar, despite knowing you don’t mind the sight of it.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Aemond mutters.

“I can be in here whenever I want, zaldrītsos, I’m your big sister,” you retort, giving him a cheeky grin, hands on your hips. (little dragon)

Aemond admires how you look in the early morning light, your form backlit by the window. Though Valyrian features are considered to be among the most beautiful, he can’t help but adore that you have the Hightower look, with your long dark curls that fall to your waist and big dark doe eyes. Ever the little carbon copy of your mother. However, he absolutely despises the nickname you’ve given him.

“Hm,” he grumbles, standing up from his bed and moving toward his changing screen.

“Someone’s grumpy,” you tease, taking a seat on his bed, waiting for him to finish.

“I hate it when you call me that. Little dragon, little one, little brother. I’m nearly twice your height, if you don’t recall-”

“And yet I’m still three years older than you,” you grin, standing again and looking up at him when he approaches you, “Shall we go?”

Aemond nods, sighing as he takes your arm and the two of you walk out into the hall, “Why is it always me you wake up last?”

“I like letting you sleep a little longer, sweetling,” you lean up and poke his nose, giving him a wink, “You’re my favorite sibling, zaldrītsos, don’t forget that.”

He both loves and hates when you treat him like this, like he’s still that same little boy who’d come crying to you about not having a dragon. He’s a man grown now, and you’re a woman. He’s twenty years old and rides Vhagar, the world’s largest dragon. He needs you to see him as the man that he’s become, not the boy he once was.

“‘Sweetling’,” Aemond scoffs as the two of you walk, repeating the term of endearment, “You talk to me like I am still four feet tall and covered in snot.”

You roll your eyes, “What do you wish for me to call you then, hm? Since I’m not allowed to say ‘little brother’, ‘little dragon’, and now even ‘sweetling’. I seem to be running out of options.”

“Aemond, just Aemond.”

“Alright, just Aemond,” you elbow him, earning a playful smirk in return, “Shall we spar before we break our fast? Work up a bit of an appetite?”

Your brother nods, “I would love to,” he pauses before grinning at you and poking you square on the nose, “Mandia.” (big sister)

“Mandȳs, not mandia,” you correct, the two of you make your way to the training yard, you chiding him as you go, “You act like a child and expect me not to refer to you as my valonqar. Valonqus, I simply do not know what to do with you.” (big sister, little brother)

Aemond gives you a sly smile as you release his arm, grabbing a training sword for yourself and then tossing one his way, “Well, I am a child who will win this spar without even breaking a sweat, mandȳs.”

You shake your head, grinning to yourself, “Your arrogance will be the death of you, valonqus, you would do well to keep your ego in check,” you glance around, seeing that the training yard is empty at this early hour and giggle to yourself, “At least no one is around to witness your crushing defeat.”

The sound of your laugh brings a feeling of warmth to Aemond’s chest that he doesn’t feel with anyone save for you. He thinks he could listen to you laugh for hours and never tire of the sound. However, not wanting you to catch him daydreaming of you, he gives you a light shove to the shoulder before assuming a defensive position, readying himself to fight you. You gesture for him to make the first move and he isn’t particularly surprised when you draw first blood. He lunges at you, wanting to gain the upper hand, but you deftly dodge him, instead giving him a firm whack on the bum with your training sword. Aemond scowls and lunges at you, attempting to tackle you, which you again dodge, instead, knocking him down.

“What a dirty trick, little dragon,” you click your tongue, resting a dainty foot on his chest, holding him in place as he struggles to stand, “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Aemond gazes up at you, his cheeks slightly flushed, feeling quite embarrassed at the way his breeches have grown tighter at the way you’re treating him. It’s pathetic, and he knows it. But he’s pathetic for you. He always has been. You extend a hand to your brother, helping him to his feet. And then it comes again.

“Let’s go to the dining hall, little brother.”

He lets out a frustrated groan, “Stop calling me that! I hate it!” Aemond’s thoughts come tumbling from his lips, “I hate that you see me as nothing but a child! An annoyance! That’s not how I want you to see me!”

You’re quiet for a moment before approaching him, “How do you want me to see you then, brother?” you ask gently, resting a hand on his chest.

Aemond pulls away from you, pacing back and forth, unable to look at you, “As a man, not a boy. As someone who is capable of protecting you. As someone strong and,” he meets your gaze, cheeks flushed as he speaks, “Handsome.”

You sigh, resting your hands on his cheek, “Well of course you’re handsome, anyone who says otherwise is either blind or a fool.”

Aemond is somewhat surprised and very flustered as he mumbles, “You really find me handsome?”

“Of course I do,” you smile at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Never doubt that, valonqus.”

“Do you, perhaps, like me?” Aemond asks shyly as the two of you walk toward the dining hall.

“Sure, Aemond, you’re my lit-”

“No, no, no,” he cuts you off with an audible sigh, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into an empty corridor, pressing you up against the wall, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks, “I don’t mean like a brother. I mean like a man.”

“Aemond,” you drawl, “What are you trying to do here?” you question, arching a brow, waiting for him to answer.

Aemond sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “I am attempting to flirt with you, sister.”

You’re silent for a long moment before a soft laugh escapes your lips, “Gods, you’re adorable.”

The comment causes Aemond’s cheeks to flush bright red. He looks mildly horrified and humiliated at your laughter, staring at his feet before gazing back up at you.

“I’m not adorable,” he protests vehemently, “I’m a man!”

You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body up against his in a way that makes him shiver, “Yes, you are a man. And a very handsome one at that,” you smile as his blush gets even worse and coo, “So cute, like a little maiden on her wedding night.”

Aemond rests his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, hiding his face from you. Only in his wildest dreams has he ever been close to you like this. And it’s so much better than he ever could have imagined. Your body is soft and warm to the touch as you embrace him, as he holds you in his arms.

“Do you like me, little dragon?” comes your teasing voice, “Do you yearn for my touch?”

“I think my answer is quite obvious,” Aemond’s response is barely above a whisper, “Don’t taunt me like this.”

“How long have you wanted me?” you murmur, brushing your nose against his, “How long, zaldrītsos?”

“Too long,” he rasps, his hands grasping at your hips desperately, “Every moment I don’t have you, I want you. I crave you. Your body, your lips,” Aemond pleads, “I can’t wait any longer, please, sister…”

You brush your lips against Aemond’s. It’s the barest hint of a kiss, meant to taunt him, show him what he’s been longing for all this time. Aemond lets out a low moan at the feel of your soft lips, so smooth and sweet and perfect against his own. When you begin pulling back, he reaches for you, chasing your lips with his own, but you continue to pull away.

“More, please, mandȳs, please…”

You pat his cheek, giving him a light slap on his face, “Don’t be greedy. Greedy little boys don’t get nice things,” you chide.

The desire in Aemond’s eye grows even stronger as he pleads, “Mandȳs, don’t torture me like this.”

You trail kisses along his jawline, murmuring, “Be a good boy for me then. Good boys get their rewards. Naughty boys get punished. Which are you going to be, love?”

Aemond moans at the touch of your lips, “I’m trying, mandȳs, I’m trying my best to be your good boy,” the next sound he lets out is more akin to a whimper.

You smirk at the noise and coo, brushing your knuckles across his cheek, “Are you whimpering, zaldrītsos? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” Aemond whimpers, “I am, please,” his voice is a low whisper as he pants, “I can’t take it anymore. I need you.”

You hold his chin in your hands, “Such a pretty boy, aren’t you, love? My pretty boy?”

He nods eagerly, his hands moving to thread themselves in your hair, leaning in closer to you, his lips nearly brushing against yours as he breathes, “Yes. I’m yours, only yours.”

You pull away just before he can kiss you, “Don’t touch yourself. Don’t try to seek any type of relief, and mayhaps after dinner, I’ll give you what it is you so desperately need.”

Aemond looks at you incredulously as you pull away, “Please, mandȳs, I can’t wait,” he frowns, reminding you a bit of a pouting child, “Please!”

“Behave, little dragon,” you hum, “All good things to those who wait.”

Aemond’s jaw drops as you saunter out the door, flashing him a smile over your shoulder as he calls out to you, “You can’t just taunt me like this and leave me wanting! Please, I’ll do anything-”

“See you at dinner.”

The prince groans, falling back against his bed, tugging at his hair, “This is torture! How am I meant to survive this?”

At dinner that evening, Aemond isn’t the least bit surprised when you approach him at dinner that evening. What does surprise him, however, is how low cut the dress you wear is. His eye keeps traveling to your cleavage that is on display, just for him, as you ask in that warm, dulcet tone of yours if you can sit beside him. He nods, standing to pull your chair out for you. After he takes a seat beside you, he can’t help himself from inhaling sharply when you rest your hand on his thigh, a long groan escaping his lips.

“Do you mean to torture me?”

“Not at all, valonqus,” you give him a sweet smile, noticing the way his gaze is fixed on your chest, at the small dragon pendant he carved for you as a child nestled between your breasts, “It’s my favorite necklace.”

Dinner goes on and your hand remains on Aemond’s thigh, squeezing gently ever so often, a silent reminder for him to be good and that he’ll get what it is he wants. He practically trips over his own feet, following you to your chambers, beyond eager to finally get the reward he believes he deserves. You make up some excuse about practicing your High Valyrian together, to which your twin shoots you an amused look. You’ve never truly been able to hide anything from Aegon.

When the two of you enter your chambers, your lips find Aemond’s, moving against his in a slow, sensual kiss. Aemond moans into your mouth as your tongue dances against his. 

You pull back for a moment to ask him, whispering in his ear, “Tell me how badly you want me.”

Aemond looks at you, nearly trembling, “I don’t just want you. I need you. I crave you, I need to taste you, your lips, everything. You’re the only thing I want.”

“Hm,” you smile to yourself at his words before ordering, “Get rid of that tunic then. The breeches too, zaldrītsos.”

Aemond’s eye lights up and he immediately sets about disrobing, reaching behind his back to pull his tunic over his head, then undoing his breeches, letting them fall to the floor along with his undergarments, leaving him fully bare before you. He’s already hard, you muse, his arousal already leaking from the tip of his cock. He has a pretty one, you think, long, thick, curved slightly upwards with a prominent vein along the underside of it.

Aemond notes your pleasure with him and smirks, “Do you like what you see?”

“I do, my dragon,” you hum, gently pushing him back on the bed, laughing at his hungry gaze as you begin to undo the bodice of your gown, the offending fabric soon falling in a pool at your feet, leaving you in only your shift.

You rid yourself of the shift as well, baring yourself completely to Aemond’s lascivious gaze. His lips part in wonder as he admires you, his eye lingering on your breasts, wanting nothing more than to-

“Do you want to kiss me there, Aemy?” you purr, moving to straddle him, giggling slightly at the low moan that passes his lips.

“Yes, mandȳs,” he groans, his hands moving up to cup your tits, squeezing them, kneading the flesh between his hands almost desperately.

You lean in closer, “Go ahead, little brother.”

Aemond begins eagerly suckling at your tits, moaning against your skin as he moves his tongue over one pebbled peak as he groans, “Muña…” (mommy)

Oh, you absolutely love that, the little thrill it sends up your spine, and you run your hand through his hair as he continues eagerly mouthing at your chest, “You’re like a greedy little babe.”

He switches to your other breast, giving you an impish smirk before his lips descend on you once more, “Am I doing it right?”

“Just perfect,” you coo, “Sȳz taobus…” (good boy)

Aemond groans at your words, feeling himself harden even more if possible, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing slightly. He bristles when you slap his chest, giving him a warning glare.

“I didn’t say you could do that yet, did I?”

Aemond pouts slightly as you move off of him, though his disappointment is short lived when you lean in, gazing up at him through your lashes as you give little kitten licks to the tip of his cock, alternating between this and mouthing at his stones, the latter of which elicits the sweetest little gasp from him, making you smirk with delight.

“Oh gods, muña, please,” he whimpers, barely able to hold himself back from bucking his hips against your mouth.

Instead, he allows you to inflict this sweet torture on him, your pretty pink tongue darting out to taste him, alternating between fondling and suckling at his stones, but never enough. You tease him, mouthing at the tip of his cock, taking only that into your mouth before pulling off with a lewd popping noise, smirking up at him. And when he tries to buck his hips against you, too desperate to control himself any longer, you pull away completely and land a light slap on his cock, making him cry out your name, pleading for some reprieve. He squirms against the bed, desperate for friction as you climb on top of him to straddle him, your bare cunt brushing against his achingly hard cock.

“You’ll stay still and take what I give you,” you scold him, gazing down at him with those dark eyes of yours that never fail to make him feel weak in the knees.

Aemond nods, gazing up at you, protesting when you go to remove his eyepatch, silenced with a single reprimanding look from you. His good eye flutters shut as your lips ghost across his scar, a silent reminder to him that neither it nor his sapphire have ever frightened you.

“My pretty boy,” you say softly, “Do you want to taste muña?”

He nods eagerly, gazing at you with reverence as you move to straddle his face. And when you lower your hips, letting him begin lapping at your folds, he swears he’s ascended to the seven heavens themselves, because you, in his mind, taste like the finest of all ambrosia. He squeezes the flesh of your thighs, his tongue moving against you eagerly, tasting you over and over as you move your hips. You make sure to brush your sensitive pearl against his nose every time, loving the way it feels as you grab the headboard, making sure not to put too much weight on Aemond. But he isn’t having that, grabbing you and pulling you close as he buries his tongue deep inside your cunt, moving his face side to side, making sure you feel his lips, his tongue, his nose, everything, bringing you to your peak with a cry of his name.

You move off of him, slowly sinking your hips down onto his cock, finally taking pity on him. Aemond whimpers at the feeling of your warmth finally enveloping him. When he begins moving his hips against yours, he’s surprised when your hand moves to his throat, squeezing slightly as you give him a warning glare.

“No, love, you’re going to lay back like a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, muña,” he whimpers, helpless to do anything except for watch as you sit there, his cock sheathed inside of you.

You enjoy the way Aemond gazes up at you, his eye almost tearing up as he silently pleads for you to move and give him the release he’s been dying for all day. And finally? You decide to take mercy on him, snapping your hips against his, bouncing up and down on his cock. He’s mesmerized by the sight of your tits bouncing in front of him and sits up, eager to take one in his mouth, grinning when you nod your approval. He mouths at your nipple as you continue riding him, rolling your hips against his, your cunt squeezing around him with every move, sending him closer and closer to the edge. Aemond babbles mindlessly, “muña, please, faster, more, gods” over and over, a complete wreck beneath you as you ride him.

You reach your peak before he does, though the way you squeeze around him soon prompts his own climax. You move to lay down beside him, smiling when he cuddles into you, his head resting on your chest, an arm slung around your waist. Your legs are intertwined. The moment is warm, comfortable.

It feels right.

“Are you really going to marry Aegon?” Aemond questions quietly after a moment.

“Sweetling,” you run your hand through his hair, “It’s what has been decided.”

“But what if I asked Mother if I could marry you? Would you be amenable to that?” Aemond asks, his voice soft, colored with insecurity, already devastated at the idea of saying no.

“Aemond, I adore you. There is nothing I would like more than to marry you instead of Aegon.”

And with those two simple sentences, Aemond’s insecurities, his fears, are all assuaged, in that way only you have ever been able to do. He falls asleep in your embrace, already plotting how to get the betrothal broken and himself appointed in Aegon’s place, dreaming of the future that he and you will have together.

I been trying so hard to write the next chapter of Duty and Flames but I’m so lazy 😭 I don’t know how you guys do it

here, waiting for updates on the 999 fanfics I follow without thinking that people have to socialize, study, work, eat, go to the bathroom and sleep.