Okay But His HANDSSSSS

Okay but his HANDSSSSS

#definitelymakingasmutabouthishands

#cHoKE MEEEE

@mamaspresley

Pink Scarf - PART 3! (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read Pink Scarf - Part 1 here and Part 2 here)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Sex. Oral (f receiving). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 2611

A/N: The smut is finally here, y'all! I'm gonna be totally honest--I've never put smut on public display before, so I really hope it's okay/readable. Thank you again for all your support, reblogs, and comments--they sincerely make my day so much better and keep me excited about writing! Just so you know, Part 4 will be a smutty continuation of Part 3, if y'all want it...

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

The knock at the door startles you and you sit up straight, your heart pounding so hard it shakes your ribcage.

Relax. There’s no way. He wouldn’t leave the penthouse…he never goes anywhere without the entourage. He probably just sent Jerry down to check on me, you try and convince yourself, but the pounding of your heart does not subside.

The knock comes again, sharp and insistent, prompting you to warily make your way to the door and open it.

Elvis.

Your heart stops.

Elvis stands there, leaning against the doorjamb, with ferocity in his eyes before pushing his way into the room.

You barely have time to be surprised as you stumble backwards to counter his advance.

“Honey, we weren’t done talkin’,” he says sternly. His annoyance is obvious in the way he is clenching his jaw and his eyes are narrowed.

Your mouth opens and closes but no words come out. You cannot believe he followed you down here.

“I don’t like hearin’ you’re unhappy, y/n, so I’m settlin’ to fix that.” His accent is stronger than usual, tainted with his frustration. He shakes his finger at you, that signature gold bracelet of his, the one encrusted with diamonds that spell out his name, glinting in the lamplight.

You suppose you should feel angry yourself, with him barging in here like this, but instead, his hotheadedness is making you feel something else entirely.

“And how exactly are you gonna do that, Elvis? How are you gonna make me happy?” you finally speak, the challenge coming out sultry, your breathing quickening. You are shocked at your own boldness, but that coil in your belly has wound its way into your mind, dampening your usual propriety and common sense.

He steps towards you, but this time you don’t back up, only raising your eyes to meet his. The annoyance in his eyes transforms into that heated, dangerous look from earlier, blackening his usually bright irises.

His long pointer finger raises up to trace the lightning bolt on the gold and diamond TLC necklace you’d forgotten is still hanging around your neck, the necklace he’s given you that marks you as one of the elite women in the inner circle around him. The necklace which you almost never take off.

“I take care of what’s mine,” Elvis says, voice deep and vibrating. The implication is clear, sending a pleasurable shudder down your spine.

You know you are off the rails now. Every cell in your body is screaming for him, his touch. Your breath is shallow, quick, waiting for his next move. And all your concerns and objections from earlier are burned away, forgotten, buried somewhere deep below the spell he has you under.

But when you look into his eyes now, all you see is fire, well controlled fire, which sends a thrill into your belly. Those blazing eyes never leave yours as he slowly pulls on the tie of your robe, undoing the knot, letting it fall open. The room’s cool air rolls over your warm body, sending a visible, trembling shiver through you. He gently pushes the robe over your shoulders, watching as it slips down your arms, finally pooling at your feet.

His fingers, calloused from so many years of guitar playing, flit over your collarbone and down your bare arm, his thumb brushing the satiny fabric of your nightgown along the way. Your heart flutters at the contact, starved for him, but unable to move. Gooseflesh rises on your skin, both from the cold of the heavily air-conditioned room and from the sensation of his touch.

It does not go unnoticed that your nipples have hardened under the thin fabric. Elvis smiles a coy little smile, his hands finding your waist, and then he walks you backwards, bringing you with him to the edge of the bed. He pulls you down onto the bed with him so smoothly, you barely have time to register the change because you are so focused on the heated way he’s looking at you.

His lips meet yours at the same exact moment he trails those fingers deftly over the satin, over the hard bud of your nipple, causing your mouth to open to him as your body arches up, desperate for his touch. He sucks briefly at your bottom lip and your entire body is dowsed in heat.

He goes achingly slow, completely in control, nearly driving you mad. Nibbling his way down your neck, he takes the thin strap of your nightie in his teeth, dragging it down your shoulder. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you as he kisses and licks his way back up and over your décolletage to do the same to the other strap. Gravity wins as the top of your night gown slips down, leaving your breasts bare before him.

Elvis, pleased with his work, looks you over hungrily. You tremble in response, so incredibly aroused that every small touch feels monumental, so when he takes a taught nipple into his mouth, you think you might actually pass out. The moan that comes from you is indecent, and his response of swirling your nipple with his tongue causes you to dig your nails into his shoulders.

Bolder now, you grab at the pink scarf he is still wearing around his neck, pulling him up to kiss him deeply, your tongue needy in his mouth. This finally gains you the response you’re after—a low growl against your mouth, rumbling up from his chest as he loses a little of that self-control, pinning you down on the bed with his long, lean body.

One hand is at your neck, winding in your hair, his thumb caressing your jaw as he devours your mouth, while the other explores your breasts, your back, your waist. Every one of his touches leaves a trail of fire on your body, snaking down towards your core.

You need more of him, yearning to feel his skin on yours. Groping for the buttons on his jacket, you are eternally grateful for his daring fashion choice of not wearing a shirt, because once you succeed in popping the buttons, he is already bare for you. Your hands do what they’ve wanted to all night—raking up his torso, feeling the dark hair of his chest beneath the palms of your hands, the pounding of his heart that gives his true feelings away.

Elvis rips away from you just long enough to shirk off the jacket, leaving you to admire his tan skin and lightly sculpted arms in the process. You notice how flushed he is, the pink of his lips as they curve up into that million-dollar smile. His brilliance blows you away even more now, because in this moment, he is all yours: all that brilliance is directed at you, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life. If your body wasn’t so desperate for him, you might be frozen in awe at the gorgeous man above you.

Taking that silky scarf from around his neck, he kisses you deeply. While you are leaning up to meet him, he slides the scarf around your neck pulling you into him. Then he begins a barrage of kisses down your body that leaves you sighing his name like a mantra, his lips so soft but oh so hot as they blaze over your breasts and your belly. He surprises you then by sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, opening your knees and sliding his body in between them.

Holy shit. Is this really happening?

He lifts your nightie up and nibbles at your hips over your black cotton panties, sending a shockwave over you as you twitch up into him. Then Elvis’ head is between your thighs, kissing the sensitive skin from your knee all the way up near where you want him most. You prop up on your forearms to look down at him, wild with anticipation, but with that upper lip curving into a sly smirk, he quirks his eyebrow and skips over to your other thigh, kissing all the way back down to your knee. He looks so fucking sexy doing it, you forgive him for teasing you, laying back with a sigh.

He massages up your legs now, and when his thumbs just barely graze under the cotton of your panties, you nearly levitate off the bed. You are already embarrassingly wet, which when discovered, earns another pleased smirk from below. Now he teases you, first with the tip of his thumb tracing your panty line, then peppering kisses over the same spot. The heat swelling inside you causes you to white-knuckle the covers on the bed with growing desperation.

In response, he gives you just a little more, tonguing your most sensitive spots through the wet cotton, driving you fully mad and sending you writhing up against him. You scratch into his scalp, begging for more, but he pulls away slightly, pressing a hand into your pelvis to keep you from trying to follow.

“Is there something you need, lil’ mama?” His voice is so raspy and low that the vibrations from it alone threaten to consume you.

You groan in response, clutching the covers once again.

“So stubborn,” he tsks with a grin, “Use your words, baby.” His hot breath dances over the core of your panties, and the anticipation is so intense, the heat so powerful, you feel like you could combust from the inside out.

“Please, Elvis, please,” you finally relent, panting.

His eyes, blown dark and mischievous and playful, dance at you. “Good girl.”

Finally, he loops his fingers around your panties, dragging them down and off your legs. If you weren’t so on fire, you might feel bashful about the slick they bring down your thighs with them, but the moment they are off and he pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, all thought ceases to exist. He places your knees over his shoulders before returning his attention to you.

The moment those soft, plump lips of his kiss your clit, the fire in your belly roars, sending your hips flying and a whimper escaping your lips. You feel him smile against you, delighted with your response.

Elvis knows what he’s doing, and it surprises you a little. You’d never taken him for a generous lover, you just always assumed he didn’t have to be with all the women falling at his feet. But obviously, he’s learned some tricks along the way—God knows he’s barely touched you and you are already putty in his hands.

Then he flattens his tongue against you, licking a long, hard stripe over your slit before rolling it over your clit like a fucking pussy-eating magician.

“Elvis!” you cry, unable to contain yourself, digging your fingers into his soft black hair, lest he try to tease you again. He must get the hint because his tongue dances, flits over your sensitive nub, building the heat inside you. He runs it through your folds expertly, sometimes lightly, sometimes with more pressure, coaxing you right where he wants you. It feels like he is tracing lyrics into your clit with his tongue, occasionally darting it up inside you, tasting you from the inside. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter, but he senses it, not letting you go over the edge.

You roll against him, hands in his hair, praising the gods as he fucks you with his beautiful mouth, finding yourself closer to the sun with each breath.

Suddenly, he leans back on his heels, and you whine in dismay, propping yourself up to look at him with a pout. He looks so handsome, his mouth slick with you and eyes on fire, that you almost forgive him. Then, watching your reaction carefully, he slides a long finger inside of you without warning.

Throwing your head back, you gasp, hips bucking in surprise, not expecting the penetration. You are so wet that he slides in easily, but you are very taut around him.

“So tight for me, baby,” Elvis purrs. “Goddamn, when was the last time you got fucked, lil’ mama? You just been waiting for me?” He gently pumps his finger inside you, feeling you out, stretching you, observing every little response. Then he curves his finger, testing, until he finds that spot that makes you fly.

“Yes, oh god, yes,” you groan, his filthy words coupled with his deft finger sending a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you. You honestly don’t even remember the last time you had sex and you feel so starved for it, you begin to pump against his hand. The wet noises coming from you are absolutely obscene, but you don’t care at all. You don’t care about anything in the world other than the way Elvis Presley is making you feel right this moment.

This seems to make him happy. When he returns his tongue to the attention of your clit at the same time he plays you from the inside, it is not long before you are careening to the edge. This time, he lets you. He hums against you, then he slides a second finger into you with a low growl, pumping only a few times before you see stars.

Your body tenses against him, and your breath hitches so hard that your heart skips a beat. You fall so hard and so fast that you feel like you’re thrown out of your body, moaning as that coil of fire in your belly finally unravels and blissfully explodes inside you.

It's been a long, long time since a man satisfied you, and not one had ever made you see stars.

Elvis continues with gentle strokes as you come down from the heavens, easing you back into your body. Puling those long fingers out of you, he replaces them, lapping up your orgasm with his tongue. The overstimulating sensation nearly has you over the edge again.

Oh my god, oh my god, ohmigod, you think, then realize you are murmuring it aloud as he sits back with an altogether content and heavily aroused look on his ridiculously gorgeous face.

He leans back, then crawls up the bed to join you there, kissing you long and deep. You can taste yourself on his mouth and it drives you wild.

Your body trembles with aftershocks, doused in hormones. You cannot believe that Elvis-Fucking-Presley just gave you the best orgasm of your entire life. You begin giggling uncontrollably at the absurdity, at how good you feel for the first time in ages, putting your hands over your face to try and stop laughing.

Then he’s above you, looking at you with almost a shy smile, his eyes shining with arousal, and it sends you into another peal of laughter.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I can’t stop…it was just…I mean, that was…wow…just…wow,” you try to explain, gasping with giggles, praying he doesn’t think you are laughing at him.

“I made you happy, didn’t I, honey?” he asks, voice soft and low, eyes searching you as he brushes your hair off your face.

Your giggles subside when you realize he did exactly what he said he was going to do. “Yes, Elvis, you made me very happy,” you reply more seriously, giving him another kiss.

Then he’s lying next to you, chuckling with you, his laugh breathy and boyish and somehow musical at the same time.

“That’s good, baby, cuz I ain’t done with you yet,” he adds huskily.

A shiver of anticipation runs through you.

This is gonna be a long night.

**

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Dragon Watch ↪ Aemond flying Vhagar

Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

—

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

Aemond Targaryen - House Of The Dragon