Fool Me Once (pt 2)

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Fool Me Once (pt 2)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 3.6k)

Summary: Despite learning about Aemond cheating on you, life has never been sweeter. Who knew being so bad could be so good.

Warnings: manipulation, mentions/allusions to pregnancy issues, mentions of self harm

A/N: first, I just have to say thank you for the response to part 1. I truly had no idea it would get the reception it would. Thank you to everyone who followed me as well. I hope I can continue to produce stuff y’all like. I’m hoping to write more hotd stuff, Aemond and non Aemond related. I plan on taking a small hiatus but will be back around thanksgiving weekend. I will be writing on/off during that time but just away for a trip/the holiday. If you have any hotd requests my inbox is always open. I would try to get them out either before my hiatus next week (11/16) or after it ends (11/26). I’m pretty open to writing any character, though I will warn you I’m way more fascinated by the greens so they just come easier to me. Anyway please reblog, like, and follow if you read anything you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽. And some housekeeping: in this Aegon is not r*pist who enjoys watching children fight (the hotd are truly…. not right for the cartoonishly evil way they wrote Aegon). He’s just petty and neglected. Also the timing of this is different from the books bc Aemond meets Alys pre dance.

Fool Me Once (pt 1)

Blog Masterlist

A bastard Strong. The irony is not lost on you. Your straight-laced husband fucking someone who is the complete opposite you. Older, no kids, no title, and no duty to uphold. At this point, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Instead, it makes your blood boil in the most delicious way. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize how you’ve been going through the motions; endlessly sleepwalking, hoping one day Aemond would come around. It woke you up to how much he’s taken advantage of you. He sees your kindness, and aversion to standing out as a weakness. Something he can manipulate and twist like one of his daggers.

The both of you must have forgetten where you came from. A rich, well respected house. The only daughter of smart, albeit conniving, family that knows how to get what they want. Your family didn’t have dragons or absurd ideas of exceptionalism to help you gain power. You’ve learned that inflated egos and prideful indulges can cloud Targaryen judgment. A trait you hope skips your children.

Shame on you for thinking Aemond would be different. Shame on him for the carefully curated facade.

All you do after Larys Strong comes to you the first time is think. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this many options in front of you. Your mother’s words about patience run through your head. Keeping your wits is key. Play your hand too quickly, and you lose all leverage. You have Daella and the babe in your belly to think about. You stood pat in the beginning; Lord Strong simply relaying messages to you. You make sure Alys gets the letter Aemond wrote, and the ones after that. Lord Larys makes sure you get the details of each letter exchanged.

When the days grew lonely, and your body aches because of the babe in your stomach, you think about the letters. The declarations of love and recounts of lust filled meetups simmer in your head, but it’s the mentions of you that makes the anger sizzle and crackle. It makes the guilt you feel wash away.

You question if the rumor is true. That his Alys is a witch. Does her magic allow her to see the way Helaena can? Fuzzy premonitions and dreams that only make sense after they happen; a gift and a curse. A part of you wishes it to be true. You hope while your stomach stirs with untold truths, hers stirs with regret. Maybe the pain that runs through you leaves an unfamiliar taste in her mouth. That she can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels you.

You wonder if when Aemond prays, he asks the Father to protect him… to protect her. The same way when you pray, you ask the Warrior to help you find the courage to destroy him.

It started with a bruise. A bruise that you don’t even remember how you got. Maybe one of those things you just wake up with. But it’s there, on the inside part of your left arm. It’s starting to fade but an otherwise noticeable bruise that stands out when you wear something with shorter sleeves.

The idea doesn’t come to you till you see the curiosity in Alicent’s eyes when you absentmindedly rub the bruise while asking if she’s seen Aemond. It’s only you two in the walkway; an unusually quiet day at the Red Keep. Her eyes go from it to the far away look in your eyes. It makes her tilt her head in thought.

“No dear, I haven’t,” her eyes go back to the scratch. “Are you doing alright? I know for some, the second babe can be even harder than the first.”

You look down at your arm, and something just clicks.

“I’m fine,” you start, then you make your voice tremble a bit. “I will be fine. I think I’m just tired.”

You give her a strained smile, and she returns one that tells you she doesn’t believe you. You can feel her big brown eyes burning into your back when you walk past her towards your chambers. There could be two thoughts in her head: you did this yourself or someone else did it to you. Either way, her son’s sweet pregnant lady wife is not doing well, and her son is nowhere to be found. Queen Alicent is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, person you know. She sees the change in her son; the change in the dynamic between Aemond and you.

It hits you. It would be too easy to physically harm Aemond. Though the idea of taking the blade that hangs from his hips and putting it to his throat has crossed your mind more times than you’re proud of. It would be too easy to get Larys to kill Alys. You don’t want to give Aemond the satisfaction of having his whore’s blood on your hands.

Where’s the fun in killing when your rage could be channeled into something more… methodical.

Under all that false bravado is the little boy who got picked on for not having a dragon. To break the man means bringing out that little boy. A truly broken man can’t love anyone. Isolation, and self hatred. What a gorgeous combination for your dear husband.

If this is going to work you need to up the ante.

So, you write. If Aemond and Alys can document their love, you can document your pain. You sent your lady in waiting out to get a blank book from one of the maesters. The color dyed cow skin feels smooth under your hands. There needs to be a slow build. Each day you grow closer and closer to shattering. Whoever reads it needs to know Aemond brought you to this place. He is the villain in the story of the poor, innocent wife that did nothing but carry his children and try to love him.

It will read like a diary, but to you it is a creation. A mixture of truth and imagination. A manifestation of pent up feelings. Purging and revenge all rolled up into one. You make sure to mention how terrified you are for your safety, and for you children’s safety. How an angry or disenchanted Aemond is nothing to toy with, especially if he has a bastard witch on his side. How maybe life would be better for Aemond if you just weren’t around.

But this fading bruise isn’t enough. Neither is just having a diary that will be discovered in due time. A deep cut, a dark bruise, half hazardously placed hand prints.. now that could work.

There’s something cathartic about the pain you feel when the dagger slices through your skin. The blood is so red and warm. It smears so smoothly on the page. Blood on your dress, cloth pressed to the wound, and wandering the halls is how Ser Criston finds you. You notice the worried, confused look in his eyes when you stutter out an ‘I don’t know’ when he asks what happened.

As the maester tends to your wound, you notice how Alicent and Criston stand in the corner of Alicent’s quarters. They occasionally glance at you while they whisper to each other. You recognize the familiar crinkle she gets in her forehead when she’s upset. All her children do it too.

“Sweetling, we both think it might be a good idea to give you your own knight of the kingsguard,” she sits next you. “Just to help you and… keep an eye on you during this vulnerable time.”

You blink. Not one mention of her son. But it’s clear to see how Ser Criston is with his queen. Submissive, and utterly devoted. Having someone like that is an asset. So, you smile weakly and nod. The more people who see you in this way, the better.

Ser Quinton Throne was quiet in the beginning. As if he was scared to be in your space. A far cry from the rambunctious knight his brother, Rickard, is. Moving past the initial shyness, he is attentive and even indulges Daella’s fascination with him. Despite you telling her not to, she would always run up to him, tugging on his white cloak to get his attention. She likes having someone around just as much as you.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to carry over into his relationship with Daella. Kids are more intuitive than adults give them credit for. Your throat felt tight when you daughter finally asks where father goes. You lie; it comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would. It makes you think if this is how easy it is for Aemond to lie to you. Or for everyone to not gloss over the clear problems in your life.

You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having a man around, even if it was his job. It was Aemond’s job to do right by you, and he couldn’t do that. A man carrying out his orders with a warm smile was welcomed. The comfort of having someone who sweared his allegiances to you, and only you, and intended on keeping them.

You look from your embroidery loop to see Daella and Ser Quinton sword fighting with wooden swords. It’s an uncharacteristically sunny day. Perfect to get much needed fresh air, and apparently going to battle.

“She’s gotten quite good.”

Like a storm rolling in to ruin a sunny day, your husband’s tone is ever cold and distant. You hate the uncomfortable energy that radiates when he sits next to you.

“Yes, she has,” you stare at the Lysene lilac flower starting to come to life on your loop. “He’s good with her as well.”

You know he won’t like you saying that. He hates Quinton being around, and he especially hates how Daella taken a liking to him. Aemond scoffs and mumbles something under his breath you can’t make out.

“It’s just lovely having real protector around,” you continue to push your luck. “Someone so attentive and… strong.“

You look at with his a sickening sweet smile. He opens his mouth to say something, a complaint or rude comment since those seem to be the only reasons he talks to you, but he is interrupted by Daella yelling out for him.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he mutters to you, getting up.

“Oh you’ll actually be here long enough for that?”

The words slip out your mouth and it makes him turn to glare at you. It reminds you of the gossip you heard about him when you first arrived at court. How cold the king’s second son can be. It should’ve been a warning to you.

Quinton takes it as his cue to leave them be; you know he can sense how much Aemond doesn’t appreciate his presence. You watch as Daella clings to her father. As selfish as it sounds, you patiently wait for the day she too realizes he can’t be depended on.

“My mother used to make me embroider,” your knight’s voice breaks you out of looking on. “Something about being dangerous with a needle is just as great as being dangerous with a sword.”

You take a good look at him. If Aemond is the moon - ethereal, mysterious, and always changing, then Quinton is the sun. Bright, forward facing, and shines brighter with time. His choppy black hair, beard, and warm standing in contrast to your husband’s Targaryen features.

“Sounds like a smart woman,” you smile as he sits next to you.

His eyes linger on your embroidery work before traveling to you right arm. The blade wound was just starting to scab and scar over. His first day on duty was marked by seeing your husband give a long lecture on safety and ‘using your brain’ after Aemond saw your wound. The blade cut wasn’t under pure circumstances, but the look of resentment on your face was real. He saw that. He’s never asked what really happened to your arm.

“How are you princess,” he whispers. You told him he can address you by your name, but he still insist on the formal names especially around others. “Is the babe giving you trouble.”

Ser Quinton, Helaena, and Alicent are the only people that seem to care about your well being, on top of the babe’s. Aemond concern went making sure the babe was fine to just not asking all together. It’s better that way, you think. You don’t think you’d be able to take fake concern about your little ‘mistake’.

“My bladder is being pushed on, I’m finding clumps of my hair on my pillow, and Maester Oliver told me this baby will weigh more than Daella did,” you reply lightly. “But other than that I’m doing fine.”

This pregnancy had knocked you on your ass. You’re sure the stress and thoughts that consume you don’t help. You know how it feels to come into a fracture family; it makes you feel awful for the babe in your stomach. Your parents tried hard, frankly too hard, to pretend things were good between them. Trying to prove their union was more than a duty for their houses. Till this day, you don’t know what’s worse: knowing they didn’t share that love or the years you watched them fake everything. They had ambitions, and to carry them out there needed to be an appearance of an united front. You took your father’s lead, knowing he always tried to have your best interest. The relationship you have with your mother often ebbing and flowing, especially since your marriage.

When you ravened your mother about your pregnancy troubles, she tells you that this is your responsibility to your husband. Harsh and utterly true. You don’t know if your father ever had indiscretions like Aemond, but you know she’d never plot the way you do. Her calculating nature showing up in different ways. Instead of going after him, she chose to focus on elevating you.

Her and Queen Alicent remind you of each other. Devoted to a fault. A victim who had no other choice but to fall in line.You pray for the both of them. Pray that they find peace with the sacrifices they’ve made. Pray that you never get that far. A shell of yourself. Duty, responsibility, cleaning up others’ messes - what a dull way to live.

“Once he’s out, I’m sure it will all be worth it,” says Ser Quinton, voice not wavering.

He’s trying to be kind, mentioning the working theory in the castle that you’re having a boy. You try to smile at the thought. It’s hard to believe that. Plan or not, you still have to know the truth about the father of your children. There is hole left in your heart about that. Him disrespecting you is one thing, but his words pertaining to your unborn child is another. A sudden spurt of anger rushes over you thinking about everything. It makes you stand abruptly.

“I’m feeling tired,” you watch as Daella pretend to stab her father with her sword. Her giggles ringing out when he reaches to pick her up. The dichotomy of Aemond Targaryen will always fascinate you as much as it terrifies you. How he manages to smile in her face, and lie to yours is quite a sight to watch. “I’ll send Margret out to get Daella.”

Waiting for the perfect moment is not going to work. There no time like the present.

The stiff upper lip of this family is something you noticed the moment you stepped into their presence. It’s seeped into the way they gatekeep a dying Viserys. Alicent is cold and collected in the most beautiful way. A sharp glittering icicle. A pretty rose littered with thorns to keep you admiring from a distance. Even Helaena, who you consider a friend, keeps certain things close to the chest. It’s better to keep the full truth away from her.

But there’s Aegon.

Pitiful, and lonely Prince Aegon. A drunk with a bad attitude. But he’s also the most painfully self-aware person you know. There will be times that you and him exchange looks, as you are in on the joke. That everything is a farce. One day someone will just come up and say it’s all been a bad dream. You think it’s the reason why he frustrates Aemond so much. The teasing on top of him never taking the Targaryen name seriously. Aegon spends his days trying to drink and fuck his way out of thinking about his life. Stuck in a royal cuckold. The first born son of a king with nothing to show for it.

He’s messy, nosy, and so openly brash. He’s your missing chess piece. The perfect pawn.

You leave the diary around places in the castle you know he will be. It’s not until you conveniently leave it in the play room where all Daella, Jaehaera, and Jaehaerys all frequent that you know he’s taken the bait. His lilac eyes seem to follow you whenever you two are in the same room. It takes days for him to confront you; book in hand and wry look on his face.

“Is it true? Everything you wrote?”

You stroke your belly while looking at him, a small smile on your face.

“Does it matter that if it is,” you tilt your head, and his eyes glitter with something you’re not used to seeing.

He mirrors your head tilt with a full blown smile on his face this time. It’s like a bright light after weeks of darkness. A person who also sees through the bullshit that enraptures once you call yourself a Targaryen.

“I greatly underestimated you my good sister,” he whispers. You know he’s thinking about his own words. ‘Pretty but horribly dull’.

“That’s fine,” you motion to the seat next to you. “You can make it up to me.”

Queen Alicent stands facing the fire. Aegon, Helaena, and Ser Quinton off to the side. All of them standing across from where you sit. Aegon gives you a knowing look while Quinton’s eyes are filled with pity and anger. Pity for his princess, anger towards his prince. Helaena looks like she wants to say something.

“I… do not know what to say,” her voice is strained with pain. You know this hurts for her. The image of the perfect son being destroyed. The pedestal she put him on crumbling before him.

You’ve gotten better at crying after Aegon told you tears will be necessary to sell it. It’s an automatic response now. The perfectly timed emotion that breaks like flood gates when Alicent holds out the diary. You say you’re embarrassed. That you never meant for anyone to read it, especially not anyone in the family. Aegon gets to be the concerned good brother. He rubbed your back, while his mother called for Helaena. She needed to know who else knew about this.

“I can say what everyone is thinking,” Aegon pipes up. “He’s a fucking cunt.”

“Aegon.”

His mother turns to glare at him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Walking around with that self righteousness just to fuck a Strong,” he scoffs. “Calling his child a mistake?”

The words makes Alicent sigh, and squeeze her eyes shut. Helaena continues to play with her fingers with a quizzical look in her eye. If Aegon of all people can judge, the actions must be bad.

“This all my fault,” you decide to take it up a notch. Your breath catches. “I must’ve done something to deserve this.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” Alicent walks over and sits next to you, pulling you into her chest. “None of this is your fault.

“I just don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you continue. That part is true; what the seven hells did you do to deserve this marriage? “This, and the baby, and missing my family. I’m just so unhappy here.”

Alicent strokes your hair. You can feel her heart thumping in her chest. You can tell she’s upset and scared. Scared for what your unhappiness means. You’re a risk now.

“Maybe… my father can come and visit. He hasn’t been here since Daella was born.”

After you got married, your parents left court to tend to your house. They felt their work was done. That the marriage was as far as their political ambitions can go. They visit from time to time to see their granddaughter but normally you’re the one who has to make the trip.

“Of course,” you can see the wheels turning in her head. “I’m sure the Hand would love to pick his brain on some things. Your father has always been so kind and helpful”

Queen Alicent is as predictable as she is smart. Your dad thought your marriage would help him get a seat in the small council. When no offer came, his ego was bruised. If your marriage couldn’t, maybe a desperate Alicent can. The idea of sending a raven about the news makes you have to bite back a smile. An ally in an castle full of strangers.

“I’ll speak to Aemond about this,” she nods to herself. “You don’t need to be worrying about this in your condition.”

The disappointment is clear in smooth voice. Before you can reply with a thank you, Helaena finally piped up.

“A baby’s green eyes spurs brighter skies.”

She mutters it before looks at you curious. You look down at your swollen belly, feeling confused. Neither Aemond or you have green eyes. You try to push the sinking feeling out of your stomach. Even Aegon, who normally ignores Helaena’s cryptic language, has perked up a little.

You take a look at Ser Quinton… his eyes as green as spring grass.

Ok this is my first one doing a tag list, so I’m sorry for those I’ve missed. It only let me do 50??? Idk it’s it’s different on desktop or I’m doing something wrong. Hopefully I can find a more conducive way for this. I also only tagged people who specifically asked: @afro-hispwriter @crispmarshmallow @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @its-sam-allgood @lol-im-done @grey-water-colors @sassysaxsolo @justsumstufff @lilithskywalker @dc-marvel-girl96 @bekky06 @claudie-080102 @cloudroomblog @shelbythequeen @crazylokonugget @solacestyles @instantpeachpeace @katyadenauer @nsainmoonchild @deeeeexx @iwanttohitmyself @rosa-berberifolia @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @princessmiaelicia @bregarc @castellomargot @thesadvampire @chaosmagiq @icarusignite @happinessinthebeing @flavorofsalt @wishfulwithwine @slut-for-eddie-munson @rosaryos @mistalli @inana-mm @winxschester @papery-maniac @nolongereviliwantlove @fultimefangirl @missusnora @skinmittensgoblin @duckworthbean @b00kdiary @chiyausu @alexandra-001 @tachibubu @juneisreading @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @verycollectivecreator

Aemond literally melts when you touch him.

He is devoted to your caresses and your touch, no matter how small. A simple brush of your hands, a caress on his injured cheek, a loving kiss on his forehead, any token of affection, no matter how small, means the world to him.

He grew up deprived of that kind of affection, his mother being the only one who held him in her arms in an embrace, although aemond never felt them as true as yours.

There is something about you that gets him, something that compels him to stay in constant contact with you, even when you are in public and surrounded by people, his hand always lingers on some part of your body; holding your hand under the table, squeezing your thigh or caressing your lower back. Whatever makes him feel your warmth is enough.

In public try to be more reserved, not as demonstrative as when it's just the two of you in your bedroom.

Inside those four walls where it's just the two of you, aemond feels free. Free from that cold and disinterested facade he usually shows to his surroundings, free from that uncomfortable patch covering his injured eye, free from his title of prince.

In his bedroom, hugged tightly against your chest while his arms are wrapped around your waist, with your legs intertwined and your hands stroking his hair to relax him; in that exact moment, it's just him. He is not the one-eyed prince, he is not the king-killer, he is not that frightened boy who lived in the shadow of a dragon that did not exist. He was simply aemond.

Your aemond.

Your husband, that same man who shows himself indifferent and cold to everyone, is the same man who cuddles every night with you, who fills you with kisses and caresses, the one who melts every time you flatter him and whisper sweet words like a prayer, the one who every time you kiss his scar his eyes shine and he blushes.

That same man you could call your own, was totally different in the safety of your arms. He loved when your hands played in his hair making braids or just stroking it, when you unknowingly played with his hands, caressing every roughness caused by training or by Vhagar's reins, when you gently caressed his back to make him sleep peacefully or when he enjoyed a relaxing bath with you in his arms splashing soft kisses on your bare neck.

Aemond felt at home every time you were with him, by his side.

HATE BOND

Osferth x f!reader

English is not even my second lenguage is probably the third so I'm sorry FOR EVERY WORD I PUT ON THIS FIC.

The second apology on advance is cuz i didn't even finish the third season so im writing about CRUMBS AND IMAGINATION so if you see something off is because most of the time they are talking I'm looking at Osferth not to the subtitles.

Probably this is gonna be like four chapters but i don't promise anything :2 i hope u guys like it <3

Being in Winchester was not like you though, at least not as an independent woman, neither if you were Dane and Uthred's sister too, you always hear the Saxons say that when you were on Wessex with Uthred and the boys.

Uthred was always protective with you, even if you were a warrior like him, Finan, Sihtric or like Halig was, you were his sister first and that was all that matter when people insult you or were being creepy, mostly men. Now remembering last night, when all of us were on the alehouse and an old man approached on your side of the table, you were in silence listening to the story that your brother was telling when the man started to said that you were a Dane whore that was with them just because they probably hump you for some silver and saying that you didn't belong to Wessex, noticing how they all stop talking to stare at the man, Uhtred getting up from his chair when the man repeated that you were just a whore.

Answering to the old man that you were more warrior than all of Wessex or him could ever be and not only a whore, advertising that he should watch his tongue and walk away from your side, replying by trying to pour his ale on you, not fast enough even for Uthred that raised his hand to pull his sword, you push the man with your hands and punch him, when the man tried to give the same punch to you, Uthred tried to stop him with the others, that didn't happen, pulling the man by his neck and pushing him to the table, you take out the dagger on your thigh, pointing at his neck. The man started apologizing as fast as he could when you pressed the dagger on the skin, letting him go when he whined with pain, kicking on his ass out of the alehouse.

Still immersed in your thoughts about last night, you didn't see the person who suddenly stopped in front of you, getting your head smacked on his arm and having you almost on the ground. Furrowing your browns and letting go a loud groan and facing him to start complaining, you looked up at him, your first thought was why his hair was so ugly looking and the second if you should hit him for stopping even if you were not paying attention in front of you.

He widened his eyes at staring at you, opening his mouth to say an apology that never came out of him before you started talking, your familiar loud voice making Uthred smile even if you didn't have seen I'm behind you.

"Fuck, you retarded ugly hair, why you stop in the middle of the street?" Getting closer and tilting your head, your eyes moving to his clothes and to the cross on his neck, seeing clearly now that it was a monk. Seeing how his hands went up to still want to apology even if you were crushing his words with yours, noticing his cheeks starting to get on a pink tone and looking up behind you when others spoke.

"Y/N! Where were you ?" Uhtred talked behind your back, moving your attention to him, the monk at your side passing his eyes from you to Uthred again and sighing a moan. 

"With woman, why you are talking with a monk? This stupid is literally in the middle of the street." Arching one of your eyebrows and shaking your head slightly, you glanced at the taller boy in front of you before moving to face your brother.

"Talking about the baby monk, I should introduce you to him, this is Osferth, he wants to come with us on battles from now, well, with me. His mother was Leofric's sister, a bastard son of her." Your brother nod his head to point at him. 

"I am so sorry lady-" Finally starting to talk and trying to not sound that scared by the look you were giving to him before, you stopped him with a sarcastic laugh.

"A monk with us? What is going to do, pray to their fake God on our battles or kill Danes with that cross? Doesn't look like a pointy cross to me." Pointing with your finger at the cross and then looking at Uthred, him smirking a little before nodding at you and getting up from the stairs.

"I said he has to change that for a sword, but I'm sure you can teach a man how to kill someone with a cross if he doesn't change it for a sword." Uthred said, shrugging his shoulders and getting near to you before putting one of his hands on your shoulder, pressing on you as you make another disappointed sound to them.

"He must, we are not into babysitting, and I'm afraid not into teaching monks to kill with ugly crosses too." You furrow your eyebrows again to both of them, shaking your head and letting out a sight.

"Then I can go by your side, Lord?" The monk talked with a paused soft voice, looking only at him and deviating to look at you for a second, noticing how his hands were clenched together in front of him now and his lips were pressed.

"Yes, if my sister doesn't curse you first with her looks." Uthred laughed out loud, shaking your body by pushing your shoulder, you moved your body to escape the grab and starting to head to the stairs with the others. 

"Osferth, you maybe want to change the cross and the haircut, if you piss off my sister, I'm not going to be the one to save you from her, don't think anyone would want especially to piss her, but don't be scared, she is a good woman, just feral as my brother Ragnar too." Uthred chuckled looking at the monk scared face.⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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The old you would kill yourself if you think about how you've been doing the past months, still sometimes thinking about what was wrong about when you were supposed from the beginning to not like the monk at all. That shit was turning tables all the way, and you didn't even know how it happened or how it started. 

Maybe started when you saw the same fear in his eyes before jumping to the boat on Cookham, the same fear that you felt on your first battle, noticing how all the travel his hands were shaking onto his lap and he was about to pass out. Maybe it was when, noticing his tears of killing his first man, a bad way if you think about it because even your first kill was a clean cut in the throat, and you didn't drop a single tear. But you feel something in your chest pressing when your brother screamed at him and you screamed back at him without thinking, saying the first thing that came to your head about the monk staying at your side to not fuck the whole mission and to not being harm, just pushing Osferth behind your back after saying it and walking away with him following like a lost pup, getting to the side when you pushed your sword towards the men to kill them, sometimes moving your head back to look at his sad look, him making sure he was still alive and good by little nods to you.

"You need to stop being a crying child, Uthred or I won't always be there to kill for you, Monk, you choose to be with us, my brother doesn't need a child to protect in battle." The only words that came from your mouth when you were standing aside your horse with him in front of you once the battle finished came in a demanding tone, even if you were sure that the point was not scaring him more.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to protect me or either Uthred." Osferth give you the same sad look, his hands pressing into his back after saying to you that, knowing he probably was really sorry for bothering you at least.

 "I do not want to see you dead, my brother is starting to care for you. I don't care about having you following me like a pup if you want protection, but you need to fucking learn how to swing the sword, not like you did it there." You started to feeling the same way as your brother, but that words never come out of your mouth. Looking at him and shaking your head before you get up on your horse.

You sighed, noticing how he just nod and apologize once more in a soft voice and move his body closer to the horse, the same feeling starting to ache on your chest and even before thinking it too much, you move your hand down to his head, reaching him the top because of the high of the horse and messing his hair with your fingers.

" Don't think it too much, I would be more surprised if you have known how to fight being a little monk, I can teach you, but don't poke anyone's neck with the sword like a piece of meat again, or I gave you a stick to fight. " Moving out your hand from his hair, you kick the side of the horse with your boot to start going with the others.

He tried to hide his face with his own horse with embarrassment, noticing the warm feeling on his cheeks and his heart pounding harder on his chest by the way you touched his hair. Hearing a laugh on the other side that he identify as Finan, getting on the horse and trying not to look at him before start to following the others too.

The feeling of the cold took you out of your own thoughts, sniffing your nose and moving your shoulders, trying to get warm but still shivering. Looking aside to your horse, Osferth looked back at you, a soft smile growing.

"Are you cold, my lady?"

" All of us are cold, Osferth, obviously I am cold to the bones and my ass sores from being in this fucking horse and my head hurts from watching my brother with a foot on Valhalla and this fucking seer looking at me like a dog all the time, why you ask?"

Osferth burst out a laugh, furrowing your browns and looking in front of you at hearing a soft laugh of your brother too, Uhtred looking at both of you from the wagon, hearing Osferth's horse neigh before approaching to you, moving one of his hands to his own cloak on his shoulders, taking it off and pulling it over you. Not having enough time to react to his actions, your hands going on the cloak for a moment and sending him a glance before shaking your head, trying to deny Osferth's cloak, your own hands getting to the lace of the cloak to try to pull it off, feeling how one of his hands pressed on top of yours.

"I don't want it."

"Wear it, Y/n"

"You are deaf? I say I don't want-"

"I said you wear it, so do it." You opened your eyes to look at him in surprise, noticing how Osferth voice was now demanding it and not asking, you pressed your lips together, doing a grouting low sound on your throat and smacking his hands out of you to pull the cloak on your body, noticing that the cloak was too long and big enough to cover all of you to the foots.

"Imbecile." You said, getting again your hands on the reins and kicking with your boot on the horse to go in front of the wagon with Sihtric.

"She likes you, probably the only man I saw touching his breast was the first and the last, he now has no hands to touch any more..." Uhtred whisper with a soft smirk looking at the monk, looking how Osferth just sighed and his eyes wide, now noticing that, his eyes following you before looking at Uthred with a cautious look now.

"I was pushing my cloak, she would keep me alive hopefully, for you, not because she likes me, I believe it God is great."

"If you think Y/N is going to get more gods than her appreciated Freyja, yeah, you are dead before this night." Finan moved his horse closer to them, sharing a smile with Uhtred.

. . .

You glanced over and over at your brother, letting a big sigh escape before covering your face with your hands, still looking at your brother without moving or giving any attention to anything more, only the light of the campfire being able to help you stare at him in the dark. Moving your legs closer to your chest and pressing both before resting your chin on them. Hearing a sound besides you without moving your eyes of your brother, knowing by the sound of the boots trying to make the softest noise that was Osferth, seating next to you and extending his hand with a bowl in front of your face.

"He is not going anywhere, you don't need to stare at him all night, eat this." Moving the bowl closer to you, knowing that by this time he was not going to accept a no, you grabbed the bowl and moved the soup with the spoon at the side before finally look up to Osferth. His eyes seemed tired from trying not to get down to sleep, waiting for you even if you said you were going to stay up all the night to watch your brother and that they could sleep peacefully. A soft smile growing on his lips when you finally looked at him and grab the bowl, cheering in his insides.

"He's dying, and I can't do anything about it, nothing to break the curse." Your lips pressed together, clenching your jaw, the anger you were feeling coming back with your own thoughts. "I'm going to cut that bitch head and put it like a collar on my horse, maybe with that the gods would tell respond about it."

"Lord Uthred said that we can't break the curse if we kill her, even if I don't think it is a curse." 

"Say again that is not cursed when you are seeing how he is dying by nothing more than her presence, and I'm going to do two collars with both of your heads." You shake your head, getting closer to the bowl to drink the soup, drinking all of it before leaving the bowl on the side.

Osferth glanced at how your brother muttered something in his dreams, looking at you again and letting go a big sigh, his body shifting to put his back on the tree at your side.

"Lady, I'm praying for him, he is going to be okay, I know God is good, your gods too, I'm sure they want to keep him alive."

"I'm going to start prey to your God if that makes my brother well again. Freyja is just silenced every time I ask something about him, probably she is mad about that I let Skade alive in the first place, that's because she is letting the bitch kill my brother. Skade doesn't follow the natural order of gods, she must die and I would be glad to do that." 

Getting your head down and placing it on your knees, you looked at Osferth, this time giving him an ironically smile.

 "I don't know if he is going to make it to see Ragnar again, maybe when we arrive is too late."

"Lord Uthred is strong, he would see his brother again, you're helping him too, I saw the marks that you put around him on the ground and the rocks that you put in his clothes." 

The silence was not loud enough between the two of us, hearing the snorts of Finan at the side of the campfire and Uthred still muttering things while sleeping. You were now keeping your eyes on Osferth and he was doing the same to you, noticing how even in the dark, he was starting to blush when you keep your eyes on him without saying nothing but keeping a little smirk on your lips.

You put one of your hands on his face before thinking it too much, caressing his red cheek and moving your thumb against his chin, pressing the finger up to his lips before stopping yourself, for the only thing your eyes moved from theirs were for looking down to his lips, the first thought that came to your mind stepping so loud on your head that you wide your eyes open, hearing how he swallowed, now all his face was warm and red, his eyes staring at your own lips a couple of seconds before looking at your eyes again.

You pushed your legs to move and lean on him, pressing your chest with his and feeling how both sighed for air, your hands now cupping his face before pulling him up enough to bring your lips together, pressing them hard and for a short moment, Osferth making a loud sound of surprise and not moving his body at all but pressing his lips back before you moved your head, looking at each other with a surprised expression as well after breaking the kiss. 

"Good night, Osferth." Trying your best to keep calm, you mess his hair moving your hands and caressing his face, getting up and starting to go next to where your brother was sleeping without a response from him, afraid enough to look at him while you started to walk. Sitting at his side and coming back to stare at Uthred, this time your head not even thinking about the curse, just about how soft his lips felt on yours and how you wanted to make that kiss longer and keep going with more, how he didn't move an inch but kissed you back awkwardly, maybe a clumsy kiss from his part, probably his first kiss too and she didn't even ask for it, but you were not regretting anything, not with Osferth.

He was still in the same position, the warm sensation on his chest going up to his face again and again just by thinking about what happened. It was his first kiss, or at least the one that meant something to him, and he was so happy about it that he probably imagined a whole more kisses with her in the seconds after. His thoughts passing fast to surprised ones, he was already in shock by just the caressing hand on his face and he was about to whine of happiness when the kiss happened even if it was not long enough. 

Closing his eyes and resting his head on the tree, Osferth fell asleep with a big smile and the same thoughts about you kissing him.

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@meadowofsinfulthoughts

How boys show affection.

Aegon has a very physical display of affection, he loves kisses, hugs and anything that has to do with touching you, sexually or not, in front of others or in your room, even when you weren’t married, people have caught you several times making out, in the kitchen, in the garden, in the bedroom, in halls, in corridors, it has already earned you so many problems, so many fights, if you have already promised each other the scandal would be little, but still it would be a way to hurry your marriage, if your marriage was impossible and he was already married, nothing stops him not even whispers.

Aegon would cut out the tongues of everyone who worried him, he doesn’t care if another servant comes to see you, but if you call he will make a way, he promises softly while giving kisses on your ear, while his hands are squeezing your thighs and you are sitting in the middle of the kitchen while he takes you right there.

He doesn’t really like to hold hands, he likes to touch your waist more, but if it’s really something well hidden, his hands will never leave your body, sitting together at the table at the family dinner, his hand is on your thigh discreetly, very close to where it shouldn’t be.

Seguir leyendo

not to be nsfw (it's not i promise) but we all know how respectful and dutiful aemond could be, and what kind of era he's living in.

do you think he would've be feral at the sight of a woman's ankles? like- they're all dressed modestly and aemond isn't like aegon so he doesn't actively look for any sight of skin

but WHAT IF- he's people watching like he always does, sees sweet (y/n) parading around and he's already entranced by their beauty but that curtsey? how sturdy and low she bows to his mother? he can already feel his palms sweating

how modest she's dressed? not a sight of skin to let any lingering thoughs of sin creep into a man's head? oh you're making him dizzy

and when you dance and how your skirts lift up slightly and the skin of your ankles show? he's damn near about to pass out

bonus : aegon judging him from over his wine cup like "i took you to a brothel with naked women at every corner and an ANKLE is what turns you on?"

"you wouldn't understand."

"...larys strong would."

reminder to the blacks that we may hate the greens but we love our riddle speaking bug girl Helaena she has done no wrong