Aemond Targaryen Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

DRAGON COINS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Prince Aemond finds his way to the Street of Silk once again, and he finds certain... familiarity with one of the whores. Yet, that doesn't stop neither of you to let your desires take over. (based on this request)

✧pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Bastard!Female Reader.

✧word count: 4.1k

✧warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, targcest, oral (m) receiving, brat taming, very slight almost unnoticeable implied aegond AND (not so subtle) that reader is aegon's bastard, aemond is a dilf.. hehe, they are both insane.

You were the prettiest woman at the brothel; most men always repeated that to you. And for a fact, you knew it very well. 

You loved dancing; always have. You used to imagine yourself as a royal princess at balls and court events, who wore the prettiest dresses and the most extravagant headpieces, full of veils, patterns, and many details of gold, purple. You imagined, as well, that you would have a nicer figure, full of food, and expensive things, like caviar, and have meat all day. 

Yet you were not a princess. You didn’t dress in purple, didn't have anything gold, you never attended a ball or court. You just looked the part; with bright violet eyes, silver hair and that Targaryen’s appearance that called the attention. 

Your mother told you that your father was a prince; she never said more. You always thought who it could be. Daemon? He was away at that time. Laenor? The rumours of his liking of men didn’t help. Aegon? He was barely of age by the time you were conceived.

If it was a lie, or a truth, you did not know; you only knew that everyone was enchanted by your appearance; your bright eyes, that your mother often compared them to one of a doe; your lips, always pink without the need of any makeup. You were a natural, born to shine among the common people. 

Inevitably, you ended up in a brothel. As a dancer, with exotic clothes from Lys, and some large feather fan for your dances, and you learned how to do your hairstyles the same way Lyseni girls did, since they were the best of the best. 

You were the best of the best. You made sure of it. You had something special, the looks, and the wits. Just not the money nor position for it.  

Most of the time, the Brothel opens at the ninth bell rang of the day, when the sun starts falling down, and people come home from their work, and just some time after men get paid for their daily works. 

It was the eighth toll of the bell when you were helping one of the new girls out. She had auburn hair, and almost as long as yours; and you were helping her do a crown of braids. You heard the consistent knock on the door, and you frowned for a bit, as you walked towards the door. 

It was a hooded figure, tall, and looking around as if he was followed. You frown a bit, watching his shoes; you could tell a lot from a man's shoes. This one wore boots, black and slightly muddy. He also smelt strong, like fire, somehow. Oddly enough, he didn’t speak when he moved his eye to watch you silently.

“We are not open.” you say to him, holding the door close, just so half of your body could be seen. “Wait for the next bell toll”

“Call your Madame” He says, abruptly, rude as men used to be; never lacking that audacity that their demands have.

“The brothel opens-”

“I heard you fine the first time” he repeats, as if he didn’t have the time “Call your Madame” he says, throwing a bag full of coins as if nothing, as if he wanted to buy your silence.

You frowned as you knelt to grab the bag, and from that angle you could see the small silver hairs that he intended to hide in that hood, and the eye patch, covering his left eye as the other one, with a deep purple tone watched you intently. You could see the small dragon patterns on his clothes, and how even his cloak had gold details, with little dragons.

It was prince Aemond. You have never seen him up close before, perhaps you had seen Vhagar around the skies from time to time. You heard that he takes his sons to fly often. Just as his grandsire, he had been left a widow with two sons. Not that he shared a love for his late wife, and he did not care to seek another bride.

Yet, prideful as you were, made a face and turned around, opening the door for him as you guided him towards the personal room of the Madame. Although, it seems as if he knew the place since quite some time. 

You watch intently at the prince, who the Madame compliments as older. You suppose he looks older, you didn’t quite remember how old prince Aemond truly is. You remember the celebrations for his five and twenty name day, but you couldn’t quite recall how many years ago that was.

“Should I fetch something, Madame?” You ask simply to Madame Sylvi, who sits in the middle of the bed, and yet prince Aemond doesn’t mind your presence as he starts undressing, taking his cloak off, followed by his eye patch. 

He has no shame, truly. You watch how he takes off that leather jerkin, embroidered with dragon details made of gold, as if gold didn’t have a better use than to be embroidered on a prince’s clothes that he probably uses once or twice before asking the tailor for other clothes. 

“No, do not worry. You tell Daisy that she is in charge tonight”

Interesting. You think, as the prince takes off his breeches, and you turn around to close the curtains, leaving your Madame to take care of the prince. And yet, you took an unshameful glimpse of his ass, smiling as you walked to finish the braids for your friend. 

And that routine continued for quite a while, you now noticed when prince Aemond arrived at the brothel, sometime before it opened, sometimes near the end of the night. Sometimes he came day after day, and others it was weeks apart. 

You danced the most on busy days, and you refused to dance when you did not want to. You were as spoiled as a little princess, which gained you some popularity among the workers and the clients. Some of them called you a ‘little princess’ and others a ‘spoiled cunt’, and yet you didn’t mind because you knew you could be both. 

It was probably one of your new dances, with a bold sound of the lute as you moved the expensive fan around, as if teasing the audience with more peeks of your body. This was a busy day, and so, a lot of men were gathered around watching whatever lewd display it was shown on the occasion. 

A jousting was held by the Royal Family, and so a lot of lords and knights came to the city, which means that the street of Silk was at its full capacity, and every man looking for a woman to fuck. And you also knew that most squires that wanted to be knights came here to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before a joust. 

Yet, you don’t miss the one purple eye that watches you intently, still hiding before one of his expensive cloaks with dragon designs. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, at all. Perhaps he could be several years older, yet you know better than him. He could read books, but you have to survive day to day. 

Your long hair was braided in a Valyrian-Lyseni way, as you wore some gold detailed hair rings as you asked for them especially for tonight. Men had an appetite for women with that Valyrian looks, and you were an especially fine one. 

With every turn of your hips, you saw the expectancy of his eye, in the back of the crowd yet in the middle and not missing a thing. Prince Aemond was an especially eager one, instead of screaming and cheering at the swift movement of your body, he just remained quiet.

He was observant, he was ambitious, and you were the best. 

You weren’t surprised when he made a signal for one of the girls serving the ale, and whispered something in her ear. And you weren’t surprised either when the same girl was waiting for you at the edge of the platform where you performed.

He wanted you. 

And gods damned you if you didn’t want him. Because even with the whispers and rumours about prince Aemond, he was still one of the most divine Targaryen on earth. He might be older than you, but that never stopped you, at all. And with a chance like this? 

“He is a very exclusive client” Madame Sylvi says, as if instructing you as she walks you through the brothel “Likes very exclusive things, all of them you will please. If he wants to talk, you hear. You will touch him if he asks you, and you’ll do anything he wants. He usually gives you orders; how to be, what to do, what to say. You’ll do that- He likes having things in control and preparing for it. And something else; he doesn’t kiss” She says slightly annoyed. “A rule of his. He doesn’t like it. Not then, not now” 

You walk, not at all bothered by that rule. You shrug, and take notes, but something in your gut tells you it will be different, somehow. 

“I have been told you wanted me, my prince” you say softly, as you enter the exclusive room that Aemond was in. 

He looked at you; a hum left his lips without entertaining more in the conversation. He looked at you, as if thinking for a while. His shirt was undone, and his boots were still on, as his pants were a bit messy. . 

“Wine?” You ask walking toward the small cabinet with cups and some of the best ale and wine. Particular rooms were for expensive clients, those who paid stags… sometimes you could get a bag with some coins with the face of King Jaehaerys.

“No” he says simply. 

You shrug, the small jewellery tinkling as you walk, serving the wine for you to drink. If he didn’t need one, that’s okay. But you needed a small sip for courage, for your hips to lose up a little bit. 

“Are you Lyseni?” Aemond asks, his cold and stoic tone not changing. Most of the time, you’d say yes, to please the men like him that knew that Lyseni girls were the best whores. But you think prince Aemond asks for other reasons.

“No”

“A bastard, then” 

You watch him through your eyelashes. Was he more interested in your services or your blood? You were sure that both could please him very much.

“Yes.”

He hums, as if the thought interests him very much. You are aware of the bulge on his pants, by the way his legs are apart and he is leaning back, very much interested in you. 

“Care for a dance, my prince?” You ask, taking in your hand the fans, walking closer to him. “I’ve been told I am the best. I don‘t think you deserve anything but” 

It’s the small nod he gives that encourages you to move your hips, with no music but the one in your head. Years and years of dancing, you know the thrill by now. 

Translucent fabric from Essos, gives nothing to imagination, and it serves to give a more lustful touch to your body. It pushes your breasts up in the right way, and you can see the one eye of the prince roaming in your figure.

As you leave the fans, walking closer to him, he then asks again.

“You are Waters, then. A bastard from my father?” 

“Nuh-uh” you murmur, your hands going to his breeches, undoing them. 

“My uncle” 

“No”  

“Hm” he hums, looking at how his pants are undone, and his cock is rock hard, resting against his low abdomen, as if demanding attention from you. 

There was something about Targaryens that was so divine. 

“My brother, then?” 

You smirk, raising your eyebrows as if the mere question amuses you.

“I think you might know…” you murmur, watching him closely. Maybe he was old to keep up with your games, and less eager than most men who you attended to; with no problems in engaging with your games. 

Prince Aemond was a mature man, who had real duties to attend, and more concerns rather than which whore will he fuck today. And that aroused you. How little he seems to care about you, playing hard to get. It made you eager, and you realised that you were falling for his games instead.

“That makes you...” he murmurs, watching your lips. 

Targaryen. Valyrian. Dragon bound. His niece. All of those words he could say. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, words lingering in the air.

You raise your eyebrows, and a slight smirk appears on your lips. 

“Mhm. I might just be, my prince” 

Your hand drew slow patterns on his cock, stroking it softly as you two engaged on this odd talk. 

“Or you might not be”

“Or I might not be”

He watched your eyes intently; purple meeting purple. This man was calculating, and you could see it in his face. 

“That’s the thrill of it, I’d say” 

“You have his face” he murmurs, his thumb moving to touch your lips faintly. 

“So I have been told.”

He agrees with your statement as his hands move to take off the translucent fabric of your dress. You had many men touching you… but never the way that Aemond Targaryen did. His hands felt warm on your skin, and his touch felt right.

Aemond was an experienced man, and you noticed. He doesn't waste time fooling around, as the Madame told you. You were off your clothes in no time, as he had you right in his lap, comfortably. 

“What do you want me to do, my prince?” You ask, softly. 

He seems to think of an answer before saying. “Do your very best. Surprise me, if you can”

His hands slide down to the swell of your hips, firm grip as he watches your face; almost amazed, and by how he pulls your body closer to his chest, he was aroused too. 

Your hands go towards his shoulders, as you use that to hold as you grind against his own cock. The fabric from his open pants tickled your thighs as you straddled his lap, and yet that was the last of your worries. You were so horny, unlike many times, you were dripping wet for this man. 

Lewd moans spilled from your lips, one of your hands moving to cup his face, feeling the heavy breathing that came from his mouth. He was an intense one, his single eye never left your gaze; and you weren’t one to lose a challenge. 

“I think you are a spoiled thing” His tone is breathy, as he squeezes the flesh on your hips to force your cunt to grind against his cock, greedy as a dragon. 

“Been told so” your voice is more agitated, and you lean forward as if to kiss him, just to push your luck, and he moves his head slightly back. You giggle, trying to suppress a moan at his growl. 

“You little...” he says, yet a smirk appears on his lips due to the provocation. 

“Hm?” You ask almost innocently. “Didn’t do anything…”

“Spoiled whore” he says, with his chin and lips moving closer to yours, and you nod. “Proud of that?”

“I don’t hide anything, my prince” 

Aemond’s hands move upwards to your waist, and it takes him no real effort to turn you over on the bed, positioning himself between your legs as your back hits the mattress, gasping in surprise at the sudden movement, as you move some of your hair out of your face.

“I wanted to suck your cock” you say, using your elbows to get some height as he moves his hands to pull down his pants.

“And I want to fuck you” he says as if he was the one in the right, and it was obvious he lived to dominate. 

“And I want to suck your cock” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I am the one paying” he reminds you. Not upset, but more amusedly annoyed at your brattiness. It amused him greatly, to see a thing like you defy him. 

“Yes. And you said for me to surprise you, so I think I get the right to decide”

He has a smirk, yet his eye showed how amazed (and annoyed) he was.

“Brat” he spits the word, as he moves your legs apart further. 

You feel his dick slide against your slit, yet he only does to tease you, and to arouse himself more. You moan, feeling as if you could cum just by him doing that. What was this man doing to you?

“You are unfair” 

“Want to suck my cock? Fine, you’ll suck my fucking cock” He says, taking you by the shoulder, moving you to sit back up, and pushing you over the edge to the bed. “Go on.” He says patronisingly. Manhandling you to every whim he might have. “Fucking slut, come on, suck my cock”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were all over his dick, sucking every part you can of it. Seeing him over you, his hair loose as he was hard as a rock, and his hand grabbed your silvery hair, taking it into his hand with wonder. He was into it.

Your purple eyes look up to him, your lips around his cock as your obscene sounds delight his arousal. He groans as he pulls your hair, forcing you to take more and more of him.

Your hand caresses his balls softly, as if trying to caress every part of him. He was truly divine, and you knew something; you two were of the very same blood. And Aemond knew that too. Not that it stopped you, truly.

“Enough” He commands, forcing you to be up. You were about to protest, you were barely beginning! “Stop whining, bratty princess” It is now that he pulls you towards his lap, in a hurry that could only be interpreted as desperation and hunger. 

Princess. Coming from a royal’s mouth. Coming from what you think is your own blood. The sound that leaves your mouth isn’t fake, as you used to do when other clients complimented you. That one, and all the rest, was real. Just for him. 

The feeling of his cock entering inside you was truly like no other, you felt just like a court maiden, touched for the very first time, your hands gripping on his shoulders as he grabbed you by your thighs, making you to go down onto his cock, and the feeling of your pussy engulfing him whole, greedily… drove Aemond mad. 

“Fuck” he mutter against your lips, almost groaning. “Fuck, just like... Fuck…” 

As if the smugness from your eyes went away, your big eyes scan his face, as if searching for anything. “Fuck me” 

“I am fucking you” Aemond murmurs, his tone tense. 

“P-Please” You beg, pathetically, needing the feeling of his dick pounding hard and with no mercy against you “Fuck me, please, f-fuck me”

Your plea serves him enough, he leans back on the pillows just a bit, making it easy for you to have a better hold of him, and rest on his chest, as he took your hips and forced you to take his cock, fucking you on it. It drove you mad. 

Your first try to grip his shoulders, as your loud and lewd sounds fill the room, but it seems useless, your hands slipping off his shoulders, as your cunt squeezes his cock. You were desperate, your forehead pressed against his chest as your mouth was open, as if you could not have any control over your body, a little thread of drool coming out of your mouth. 

“Fuck me, please, please”

“Greedy princess, hm?” Aemond sounds smug, as he spanks your ass hard. The slap sound resonates in the room, along with the wet sounds and more sounds of your skin against his. 

“Yes, I am such… a needy girl”

“Always have been” he murmurs, picking up a pace as his hips start to meet your thrusts. You realised then, that it was affecting him as bad as you. Perhaps the pleasure was blinding you, but his tone was tense, his grip stronger and he was more demanding of you. He was solving it; and that only fuelled the fire.

“Yes. Please…” You murmurs, and as bold as you are, you murmur “Uncle, please” 

That sends him over the edge of madness. His pace is relentlessly, and his mouth only lets out groans and guttural sounds, as he insists on pounding hard on you, his hands on your ass as he pulls your hips down, his cock filling you in the most exquisite way, as his balls hit your skin from the force of impact. 

He slaps you when you move your head to see him, eyes full of need and pleasure. He seems to get off on it; and you won’t deny him anything. You know it. And you do love when he takes his frustration out on you, it is even better than the composed version of himself, stoic, cold and uncaring that he presented first. The unhinged version is... So much better.

“You will cum in my cock” He orders you, his low tone is a proof of his desperation about it “You’ll be a good little princess...” He grabs your platinum hair to make your head go up, your face closer to his. “And you’ll cum on my cock.” He says against your lips. 

You kind of don’t care about the ‘rule’ he has, because as soon as you feel the hot breath of his hit your lips, you lean slightly to kiss him, even if the grip on your hair makes it painful. And to your surprise, he doesn’t pull away. 

There is lewdness as his cock opens your cunt, sloppy sounds and moans that spilled from your mouth over and over again. You had to squeeze your eyes shut due to the pleasure, focusing only on the feeling of him.

Your cunt felt on fire, you could only imagine how it felt around him, but you are getting so overwhelmed with pleasure that your right hand grip on his shoulder hard. You take the reins of your pleasure, moving your hips up and down, trying to get every grasp of pleasure. 

The position not only makes you shake with mind blowing pleasure, but also presents all of your tits on Aemond’s face, jumping in front of him as his dick hits the deepest part of you. 

“Fuck, princess” he mutters, another harsh spank on your ass that makes your moan loudly. 

He had the girth that you needed to feel full. He made you feel more than that, you felt alive. Truly alive. The head of his manhood hitting repeatedly all of the right parts, making you moan, his hand gripping on your ass as he also felt the same pleasure.

“I’m going to cum inside you, princess” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to cum on his cock.

You shake as your orgasm hits you, your thighs feel mire forced to be open, and your cunt craves to feel his cum flooding your insides, filling you with his seed. You craved it so bad; it had you moaning more and more.  

Aemond uses your body, still shaking and limper to fuck you, his cock full of your juices as he groans, throwing his head back as he mutters some words in high Valyrian, cumming hard in your welcoming pussy. 

“Iksā sepār hae zirȳla.  Hylagon hae zirȳla.  Aōha kepa se kesā sagon ñuha morghon.  JēDar hen iksā ñuhon” Aemond groans his grip firm as he makes sure not a drop of his cum gets out of your pussy. 

As you catch your breath, you feel a bit limp on Aemond’s chest. He was sweaty, so were you. And you were tired, feeling the bruises of his marks on your delicate skin. You feel his seed coming out of your cunt, and that makes you whimper. 

“You are beautiful” He murmurs, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it on your mouth, playfully, sucking it just a bit to tease him. Aemond hums, very pleased. “Just like your father” 

As he extends his arm, he takes the bad of coins, and takes some of them into his hand, showing the gold to you.

“Full of it, just for you.” Prince Aemond murmurs, his hand caressing your lower back. “But you have to be just mine” he warns, possessive just like a man from his position is. 

You sigh, taking one of the coins with your fingers and inspectionating it. A bag full of dragon coins. You could see the face of Jaehaerys I, and turning it around is the profile of a dragon. 

“No men. No flirting. No whoring around” he says, whispering in your ear. “Just mine. Could you do that, princess?”

If you could do that? You don’t mind whoring around, you didn’t hide being hedonistic. Be his? Not hard. But be a princess? Could you do that?

“Of course I will, my prince.” 

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader Part 2

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: I had to get this out before January ended. This part does have smut! It is the second part of the holiday fic gift I gave to @valeskafics .

Warning(s): MDNI 18+, sex, breeding kink, blowjobs, 69 sex position, clothes ripping, loss of virginity

Usually, when it was late, you would often find Aemond in the library. You and he would swap stories about your day that often resulted in both of you giggling and gossiping like two shopkeepers’ wives. So when you find yourself in your two’s usual section without him, you think it a bit strange but do not enough to leave. You figured he was still enjoying supper with his half-sister and nephews. However, when the grand doors swung open to reveal a raging one-eyed dragon, you deduced that the dinner was less than a success. You were prepared to de-escalate his temper when he grabbed your arm. He then dragged you out of the library and inside his room.

He promptly caged you in his arms when he violently closed the doors shut.

“Aemond, what are you –”

Your outrage was silenced when your prince slammed his mouth against yours as he locked you in a crushing embrace. His lips were moving so feverishly that you could hardly match his pace. You tried your best to remain angry, but you quickly felt your body melted with his and realized that you wanted nothing more than to be devoured by him.

So efficient, your prince, he had managed to both quell your fury while also driving you mad with lust.

So often, you’ve dreamed of kissing Aemond, your sweet silver-haired Southern boy who captured your heart when he asked you about your life in the real North. You never expected to feel these feelings, let alone for a Southern man, let alone for a prince as beautiful as he. So many nights, you brought pleasure from your fingers by just imagining how his lips would feel against your skin. It was by no means as delicate as you imagined, but it was damn satisfying.

As he crowded you against his door, all of your senses felt heightened by his presence. Despite the cold winds blowing in from the window, you remained lost in the heat and haze that came from being loved by Aemond Targaryen. Pulling away for a moment of reprieve, your chest heaved in an attempt to catch your breath as Aemond made no effort to hide the ocean of love and lust in his eye. When enough air finally reached your brain, you could focus your vision enough to see the tips of your prince’s ear turn pink from his actions.

You closed your eyes as you inwardly preened at knowing that you made such a stoic man fluster. However, you may not have hidden your expression as well as you believed, given how Aemond shot his hips forward and let you understand how mad you’ve driven him. Even underneath the layers of fine leather and underclothes, you could feel the outline of his hardened cock press against your stomach. You tried to rub your thighs together in a pitiful attempt to ease away your arousal, but Aemond saw through your scheme. Nudging his knee between your legs, he lifted his leg until your wet center was grazing against his leather-clad thighs. His head dipped, and you wondered if he could feel your breath shaking under his lips as he mouthed along your jaw and down your neck. Meanwhile, his leg remained steady, and you continued to grind against the firm muscles of his thigh.

Riding on Vhagar certainly did wonders for his physique.

Ecstasy overtook you as you pathetically cried out your pleasure as Aemond’s lips continued down your body and lathered the swells of your breasts from your dress with his tongue and kisses. There was a knot inside you that coiled tighter and tighter as you ground your cunt in hopes that it would cause your release.

Aemond raised his head as he felt you ground harder down his thigh. When he saw the state you were in, he damn near tore your dress apart and threw you on the bed. But he refrained from any movement to aid you in your plight, delighted by the sight of you so completely enraptured by his actions as he was from your presence. But when he witnessed you thrusting your hips so pitifully, he couldn’t stop the smirk creeping on his face as he leered down at you. Lowering his head till his lips barely grazed your ear, you could tell how much it pleased him to feel how desperate you were for him.

“A few kisses,” he breathily whispered, “and already you’re thrusting your hips like the whores in Flea Bottom.”

“I ’m-I’m not a-a w-whore,” you whimpered out.

Gods, it mortified you at how pathetic your voice sounded. You tried to steady yourself by placing your hands on the stone walls of his room, but all it achieved was making you appear more vulnerable to your one-eyed dragon.

“Oh really?” Aemond was having so much fun teasing you. “Because only whores would try to reach their peak with such lustful abandon. Is that not your cunt currently soaking my trouser leg? Gods, you’re leaking so much I can practically smell it from here.”

Ever so swiftly, he moved his hand underneath your dress and immediately plunged two of his fingers into your sopping cunt. The knot inside you coiled so tightly that it snapped. Your eyes shot open, but all you could see was white and stars. Your body trembled as you opened your mouth, but no noise was made. The pleasure you just experienced was too great for words to describe it.

Aemond knew that you did not need to be prepped for his fingers, but he did not expect you to peak so quickly.

You felt your face ablaze in embarrassment. Where did your stoic yet kind prince go? Where was this silver-tongued cad come from? You reminded yourself to swap Aegon’s favorite wine with vinegar and beetroot juice. While the concoction would not deter him from drowning in his cups daily, you hoped it was enough to keep him in bed for at least a day.

You wondered if your prince could see you were lost in your thoughts and no longer paying close attention to him. He must have since his eyes showed a new determination. He flipped your position so that your chest was hard-pressed against the walls before firmly grasping the back of your dress. With half-lidded eyes, you opened your mouth to question him.

Rippppp

Immediately, your eyes shot open as you quickly realized that Aemond had ripped a clean tear down your dress and underclothes, leaving you as bare as the day you were born. Not even having enough time to shout your indignation, your prince swung your body onto his shoulder like you were just a flour sack. In a few short strides, he reached his bed and tossed you on top of the covers. Each curve on your body, from your full breasts to your soft thighs, beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Your tresses framed your face like a (h/c) halo, giving you an aura befitting of a divinity. Aemond had dreamed of this sight for as long as he could remember since he met you. It was almost enough to make him kneel before you and weep his praises while begging for your love and devotion to belong to him and him alone. He instead stripped himself of every layer of clothing until he was as exposed as you.

You watched in enraptured adoration as he continued tearing away each layer that hid his beautiful physique. It was torture to wait, but it was more than worth it. You felt your breath hitch as you took in each line and shadow of that creature, this magnificent being. Aemond was by far the most beautiful person you ever had the pleasure of witnessing. To see him with any clothes almost seemed like a crime with how he presented himself to you. The growth spurt from his thirteenth name-day, along with years of training under Ser Criston Cole and riding Vhagar brought forth the Warrior in mortal form. Your Aemond had a likeness that resembled a marble sculpture, with his lean and firm muscles under the unblemished pallor that made up the tall, elegant man standing before you.

But as much as you trusted Aemond, a small part of you was also scared. You were no Southern beauty. For the first ten years of your life, you had to hunt and fight for your right to survive. Such skills were remembered. You have grown beside royalty for eight years, but many would still find you lacking. And the pain - the pain terrified you. The women in your tribe and the small folk maids would warn against noblemen. Such men would often break a young girl’s maidenhood without any regard for her reputation – only to throw her on the streets to fend for herself.

Sensing your discomfort, Aemond realized he had acted too brash. While you would always be a wildling at heart, you spent years hearing horror stories from the maids of what happened behind the chamber doors of the highest nobility. He remembered how much Helanea had cried after her first night with Aegon, and he cursed himself for behaving as brutish as his pathetic brother. Leaning forward until he just barely hovered over you with his arm to keep him steady, Aemond softly dotted kisses across your face – your temple, your cheeks, your eyes, and even your nose – before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

“My sweet, wild girl,” he cooed, “I swear to you that I will make sure that this will be enjoyable for us both. Such love between two equals, such as us, means that we were meant to be each other’s firsts and lasts. But if you do not wish to continue, I swear we will stop and only have each other’s company as proof of our love and devotion to one another. There is nothing but time for us.”

“Aemond,” you whispered, “you would do that? Would you truly wait for me?”

“(Y/N), your love is everything and more. So long as I have that, is there truly a need for anything else?”

Searching in his eyes to see if there was any trickery or deception, you only saw unadulterated and steadfast adoration. If Aemond were true to his heart, so would you. You summoned as much courage as you could and leaned forward from your back to kiss him this time. Relief filled your heart when he kissed you back.

Cupping your beasts with gentle hands, your silver-haired prince broke away for you to catch your breath and for him to look in awe at your naked splendor. The sight of you flushed and gazing at him with lust and reverence, with your breasts perfectly fitting in his hands, made his cock twitch. Pinching one nipple between his two fingers, Aemond watched with enraptured worship at your reactions. Boldness overtaking him, he lowered his mouth on your other breast and sucked hard on your mound’s peak. Breathless gasps and high-pitched sighs played a symphony in his ears. Having his fill of one, he switched his ministrations to the other. Your voice and desperation were growing only stronger.

“Aemond!” you exclaimed. “Something’s coming. It feels – it feels s-so strange!”

Knowing you were reaching your peak, Aemond took his free hand and flicked your clit. When he heard your wails, it pleased him more than any duel won. He began to press more against your soaking button, taking in the song of your lust.

Biting your lip, you squirmed and squealed at the shock of ecstasy coursing through your veins. Why was Aemond touching that place? And why did it feel so good?

“A-Aemond!” you keened as tears trailed down your cheeks. “What’s happening?”

“Let go, my darling,” he purred, “let me give you more pleasure than you have brought for yourself.”

The coil snapped, and your release was so much stronger than anything you have ever done to yourself. The release that Aemond provided for you was so powerful that you soaked the sheets and Aemond’s abdomen when you came. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths, and you swore you saw white at your peak.

“Aemond,” you sighed, “I wish to taste you.”

“(Y/N),” he stated with widened eyes, “there is no need. I do not expect such things from you.”

But you only asserted yourself by raising your torso from your elbows.

“Ameond, I want to taste and please you. Won’t you let me?”

“Alright,” he agreed, “but only I am allowed to do the same for you.”

“How would that be possible?”

His leer brought butterflies fluttering in your heart. “Let me show you.”

“There you go, my love. Spread your legs – let me see you. Gods, you’re perfect. Your cunt is so pretty and pink. Your scent alone is driving me mad with want. Do you not see the evidence of it before you?”

By the Old Gods and New, you have never felt so exposed in your entire life. Even your capture by the Starks and being brought before the King dressed in heavy chains and torn rags was less humiliating than your current position.

“Did he have to be so vocal?” you thought. “Is he trying to make me pass out from his words alone?”

Seeing you tremble from his voice as your arousal further soaked your lower lips brought such perverse fulfillment to the prince underneath you. Taking his hands from your waist, he palmed the cheeks of your ample bottom before spreading them for a better view.

“So nervous, aren’t you? There’s no need to fear my little wildling. There is only us in this room – there will never be another whom I will taste that way I will for you.”

You were only half-listening to your beloved prince – as you were still enraptured by the sight of the stiff, long, hot rod standing upright before you. His tip was pink with a bead of his pearly seed just leaving it. Being so close, you breathed in the scent of its musk of leather, sweat, and dragon’s smoke. Its pungency – although strong – captivated you and made you salivate instead of putting you off. So often, you would sneak into his chambers while he was riding, take any clothes put away for washing by the chambermaids, and breathe them in.

Just last year, your boldness allowed you to steal one of the undershirts he discarded. It was soaked and stained with his sweat from a particularly challenging sparring match with Ser Cole. You knew that he would not miss one out of dozens of similar articles of clothing, so you tucked it under your skirt and hurried away to the secret tunnels before you were caught.

It remains under your pillow, and you wear it to sleep every night.

“Are you going to begin? Or do you need my help?”

“Shut up!” you hissed with flushed cheeks. “Don’t rush me.”

“Just make sure not to use your teeth.”

Leaning forward, you stuck your tongue to kitten-lick the bead of his pre-cum. When you heard his guttural groan, you continued by swirling your tongue over the tip before wrapping your lips around the head. You then lowered your head so that your mouth could try and take as much of his length as possible.

“Oh, fuck!” Aemond gasped at the feeling of your warm, wet throat enveloping his cock. “Gods, you feel so good. Take more. Take my entire length down your throat. Oh, fu– yes, just like that. Now bob your head up and down.”

Doing exactly as he instructed, your eyes watered, and tears spilled as saliva dribbled from your mouth. How was he so big? When you took his entire length in your mouth, the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You nearly gagged, but you fought against the impulse to keep bobbing your head down to take him in your mouth. His scent became only more potent as you continued, and you wanted so badly to taste his essence.

Watching your head moving up and down his cock only strengthened Aemond’s appetite for you. Finally, focusing on your lower lips, he slowly swept his tongue across your cunt. You were still soaked from your previous climax brought from his fingers, so the taste of your body’s nectar was heavy on his tongue.

What use was wine if he could get just as drunk from the ambrosia that came as the evidence of your pleasure from his actions?

Just a taste was enough to make Aemond’s mind rave with lust. Plunging his tongue into your heat, he was eating you out as if he were a peasant man who had been starved for months instead of the prince who lived in comfortable luxury. To Aemond, you tasted beyond exquisite. You were the greatest treasure in the entire keep.

Meanwhile, you were going insane from his tongue as you tried to keep up with pace. Faster and faster, you bobbed your head to quicken his release. You weren’t able to hold out for much longer, and you wanted him to come in your mouth at least once before you came twice from him. But the feel of his velvet tongue was too much to bear, and the coil in your stomach had tightened once more. Before you could even recognize the signs, Aemond’s mouth dragged out your release faster than before. It was not as strong as your first, but it was enough to make you release his cock from your mouth as you cried out your pathetic whines. You had not collapsed from the shock of it, and you maintained your position on your knees.

Fighting back the tears in your eyes, you once more wrapped your lips around his pink head. But this time, you felt a slight twitch in your mouth. Realizing that he would soon spill his release, you took the entire length of his cock in your mouth and stayed there. You only swirled your tongue across the veins on his member. Aemond’s lower muscles tensed as he felt his seed fighting to escape.

“FUCK!” he yelled out – loud enough for the entire castle to know what the two of you were doing.

 Soon, your mouth was filled with his white and thick seed. Aemond slid his limp member, and despite your face hidden from his view, he spied a small stream of white fluid dribbling out of your mouth.

“Turn around,” he ordered, “and face me when you swallow my seed.”

Slowly turning your body, your cheeks bulged from the volume of his release. When you swallowed his cum, he could see it go down your throat. When you felt the last of his spent trickle down your throat, you crawled up to lay your head on his chest. You laid little pecks down his throat and across his collarbone.

Having your body lain on top of his without the barriers of fabric and station blocking their love was heaven. A few minutes had passed before he felt himself harden again, and Aemond had one question left to ask you.

“Are you ready to be stolen?”

Tilting your head up to face him, your (e/c) irises were drowning in your want for the man in front of you.

“Yes.”

“Lay on your back with your head against the headboard.”

Positioning yourselves to be ready for what was to come, Aemond looked at you again for your approval. You slowly nodded, silently informing your royal love that you were prepared to accept all of him and his devotion.

He took his member, leveled it to your center, and slowly pushed the head in. He tilted his head to whimper and gasped at the profound heat surrounding him. When he pushed further, he marveled at how tightly your body gripped him despite him only being halfway inside you. The whimpers that left your lips implied him of your pain. But you dug your nails into his arms when he tried to stop.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you ordered him, “you sweet, wonderful fool.”

When he fully inserted himself inside you, you opened your mouth – but no noise left. There was pain, but you were so aroused that the sting only added to your ardor. Aemond leaned forward and pressed his forward to yours – it did not matter how you would insist he push on. This was your first time – and his too. You both needed a few moments to adjust.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked you when a few minutes had passed. “Are you sure you wish to continue?”

You nodded in confirmation. “Yes, my dragon prince. Please – I think I am ready now.”

Spreading your legs further apart so he could push himself deeper inside you, he thrust into you back and forth just slowly enough for you to feel every inch of him inside you. He prayed to the Seven Gods that you were drowning in the same ocean of desire he was. He listened to each gasp and sigh pass through your lips. If he focused himself enough, he was sure he could recognize the beat of your heart apart from any person in his father’s kingdom.

You wondered if you were in a dream with how much joy overflowed inside you. Cradling his cheek, you brought Aemond down to kiss him to show him the depth of your feelings. You brought him into your arms without breaking the kiss while wrapping your legs around his waist.

You wanted him to devour you.

Breaking the kiss, Aemond was in your arms as both of your chests were pressed against each other in each other’s embrace. Feeling your arousal wetting his cock, he began to quicken his pace.

“A-A-Aemond!–” You were gasping for air, but it would never be enough. “–I feel you! All of you – you’re so big! Oh Gods!”

Aemond bit the inside of his cheek for the pain to distract him from your cervix tightening around him.

“How does it feel to be stolen? Do you feel how tightly you’re gripping me?” he knew he was being cruel in his taunting, but he wanted to show that there was only him for you – not some barbaric hunter who didn’t bathe and likely lost all his teeth.

“You are mine – only mine. You were made for me (Y/N), as I was made for you.”

Placing one elbow on the spot next to your head and pushing himself up, he slid one hand down your body to press against your swollen clit. Your pupils dilated at the additional pleasure your silver-haired dragon knight gifted you. As your cries confirmed him of your satisfaction, he pistoned in and out of you.

“Tell me,” he hissed, “could another man bring you such pleasure – such love and devotion as I have for you? Do you think there would be another man who could provide more than I, the rider of Vhagar? If you must be stolen, it will not be done by anyone but me. Not my father, not my brother, not even by fucking Daemon – only me. Do you understand?”

You could only frantically nod. But it was not enough to satisfy your prince. He gave you a very hard thrust.

“Answer me!” he ordered.

“YES!” you answered. “Only you! There was and will only be you, Aemond! I am yours – please don’t stop! Don’t stop – I want your seed inside me! I want to carry your child!”

Taking a handful of your (h/c) tresses, Aemond pressed his nose to the crook of your neck. His scent was mixed with you – a harmonious combination of the trees in the Godwoods you took from and dragon smoke locked into his skin. He bit your neck before sucking it enough for it to turn into a lovely purple hue by the coming morning.

You only screamed out for more.

“Come for me, (Y/N). Soak my cock with your nectar so that I can implant my seed into your womb. Our child will hold the powers of my Old Valyria and your Old Gods. Can you see it? Do you want to see our beautiful child?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Using his fingers to pinch your clit, he gave you one final order.

“Then come.”

“AEMOND!”

Intense pleasure flooded your entire body as you screamed out his name, and you entirely gave all of yourself to Aemond. The waves of desire crashed and rocked the boat that held whatever was left of your sanity as your vision flashed white. A dull thudding pounded in your head, and your body continued vibrating as a result of your powerful climax.

Gasping at the feel of the vice grip that your cunt had on his cock, Aemond took all of his previous inhibitions and threw them to the wind. Babbling out his declarations of his love to you, he wildly thrust deeper and deeper into your cervix until the tip of his cock hit the entrance to your womb. And spilled everything inside him into you – holding himself there so that his seed would take.

The world around him disappeared. Everything outside of you and him faded into the background as white noise and the sound of your heavy breaths filled his head. He collapsed on top of you, bringing the sheets and blankets to cover your bodies as sweat sheening on your pair’s skin cooled. Aemond shifted his weight to next to you and took you into his arms.

He was exhausted – both of you were – but a feeling of contentment and serenity filled the room as you basked in the love you showed one another.

“Your mother and grandfather,” you whispered, “they will never accept me. They will never accept our child. Our child will be a bastard – the very thing you hate the most in life.”

“My love,” Aemond tried to alleviate your fears, but you only continued.

“It’s true, my dragon.” Your eyes held your strength but also showed your terror of what was coming. “Do not attempt to play me for a fool. Do not dare disrespect me in such a way.”

The prince knew every word you spoke was the truth. On the brink of war, his happiness mattered little to his mother and grandfather. They would tear his child out of your womb with their own two hands if it meant that his hand was free for political alliances.

All to keep Rhaenyra off the Iron Throne.

But there was a solution. It was one he wished wasn’t the only option left – but it was the only one he saw could work and keep you and his child safe. In a solemn voice, he revealed his plan.

“I could swear to Rhaenyra.”

Not believing the words left from his mouth, your jaw dropped as you openly gaped at your lover. But anger replaced shock only seconds later.

“Aemond, that is not funny.”

“It is no joke, my (Y/N). Listen to me.”

He explained that he and you will travel to Dragonstone by daybreak tomorrow. With Vhagar on the Blacks’ side, the threat of her ancient fire burning everything to mountains of ash would stop the war before it could even begin.

“For compensation, I will only request that you and I be wed in the tradition of both of our ancestors.”

“Yours,” you interjected, “just yours.”

You softly giggled at the befuddlement on his face – the sweetness of the picture was such a stark contrast to the events that just transpired.

“You have stolen my heart so long ago already. And now you have stolen my body. Have I not told you that this is my people’s way of marriage?”

“Of course,” Aemond chuckled, “now all that is left is for us to be wed in the traditions of Old Valyria.”

He leaned in close to press a kiss on your forehead. “I hope you are prepared, little wildling. By the latest, at the end of this week, you will no longer be a free woman – but the wife to a prince and the mother of his children.”

“Our children,” you insisted, “the mother of our children.”

“Yes, dearest. Our children.”

Stories were legends, and legends were lessons that ring with truth.

This was the first lesson your mother shared with you.

You learned every story you told in court from your mother. Your favorite story was about how the Children of the Forest sometimes gave that child a rare gem when a free child survived their tenth winter. But to prove themselves worthy, the children needed to endure many trials and meet many new people.

On your tenth winter, you traveled South to Winterfell with your parents to steal a loaf of bread. Your parents were killed, but alone you remained. You cried and cried until your body no longer had any tears left to cry. You cursed the Children of the Forest. You cursed the Old Gods your parents swore would protect you.

You met a boy with only one working eye during your third and tenth winters. His other had been slashed and taken by his nephew. It was replaced by an orb of the prettiest blue stone you had ever seen.

It was your fourth and tenth winter that you learned that his eye of blue stone had a name, “sapphire.”

You were eight and ten winters when your and your dragon’s hearts beat to the same tune, and your bodies joined together as one.

You were still eight and ten winters when you realized that the Children of the Forest kept their word. They had indeed gifted you a rare gem – they just didn’t tell you that gems could be people.

Aemond was your gem, and you were his.

And Aemond and you raised your 12 kids in Westeros peacefully while Rhaenyra reigned as Queen of the Iron Throne and Daemon and Alicent take turns having sex with her!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics , @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @immyowndefender, @katzarantos, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @boxedpandas, @lokiofasgard12, @aemondsbabe, @aemondslove, @axelsagewrites

I am so sorry if I forgot to tag you! It's hard to keep track bc I lost the list

My precious boy

{Aemond learns to love his son the hard way}

You can read part 1 here!💕

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They say you don’t truly love something until it’s gone, until the thought of never seeing them again is suddenly a possibility, Aemond woke up to an empty bed, and his heart dropped when you came bursting into your shared bedchambers.

The first thing he noticed was the tears that poured from your pained eyes, how shaken you were, and his mind spiralled with horrid thoughts as he immediately made his way towards you, taking your shaky body in his arms.

“What is it?— my love what happened?” He asks, as you gasp through sobs, you couldn’t speak, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head frantically, hands grasping at your chest as you heave, “Aenys- my boy” you choke, a blocky feeling stifling your breaths as your trembling hands grasp at Aemonds shoulders.

His chest tightens at your broken sentence, and he wants to scream and demand answers but he sees the fear that swims within your eyes, so he takes a deep breath, “What happened?” He asks, his thumb wiping away your stray tears.

“He— he’s gone! He’s gone! I can’t find him Aemond— I can’t find him” You feel your knees buck underneath the weight of the situation, as your hands grasp around his arms trying to stabilise yourself.

He looks around at the room full of guards as he guides you to your shared bed, sitting you down before demanding they prepare for a search, he tells them no one is to eat unless his Son is found and they’re quick to leave the room, each one of them getting ready to look for the missing prince.

The sun is barely rising and already the entirety of the castle is awake, most were woken by your gut-wrenching screams and they’re quick to rush to see what the problem is.

“I will find him. If I have to burn Westeros to the ground I will find him” he tells you, although you can’t really comprehend his words, your mind fuzzy with panic, he can see the despair that hangs around you and it makes him feel hopeless.

Alicent walks into your bedchambers a hand against her chest, news travels fast in the castle, and by the look in her eyes you could tell she already knows what has happened, “My dear, we will find him” she says, hand on yours as you nod weakly.

She watches as her son frantically paces the expanse of the room, taking his sword with his brows knitted together in anger, Alicent walks over to him with a delicate hand on his shoulder, “Aemond, she needs you- stay with her” she says, and he can’t bare to look at your distressed eyes the fear that contorts your face, it hurts him too much.

“I can’t mother- she—“ he trails off, they both look over at you as you rock yourself gently, “I’m going to find him,” he says, with so much determination it leaves little room to doubt his words.

Hours upon hours have passed since this morning, and you haven’t eaten, the thought of it makes you feel queasy and your tears have subsided far too exhausted to bring yourself to cry anymore.

You walk around Aenys’ room, as you look at all of his paintings and books, and your heart shatters at the thought of never seeing him again, you’re so wrapped up with your own thoughts you don’t see your husband walk into the room.

It’s quiet in the room, a lot quieter than you’re used to, you look over at Aemond and you can see the tears that well up in his eye, “Have you eaten?” He asks, voice quiet and broken, he frowns as you shake your head with a small ‘no’, the sun is beginning to set.

“I can’t Aemond— I can’t- Please find my son” you sigh, gently holding one of his paintings, it’s of you and him, and you feel like you can’t breathe, Aemond looks down at the artwork, it’s breathtaking, and he can’t quite believe his boy, of seven, made that.

An overwhelming feeling of regret crashes against him, and he bends down to level with where you’re sitting, “I’m going to find him, my love, I promise you— I will find our son” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your hand reaches for his,

“He’s just a boy Aemond, he's so small he can’t protect himself— what if-“ He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, he can't even bare the thought.

“-Don’t, he’s smart,” he says, and your eyes look at his watching as he stands up, “Everyone is looking, my love and we won’t stop until he is found” he promises and you watch as he leaves the room with a solemn heart.

You spend the rest of the day beside Alicent as she tries her best to comfort you, her hand soothing your back as you both wait and wait for any news, the sun has set as you lose hope, and your mind hasn’t stopped reeling with horrifying thoughts.

Alicent asks for some food to be delivered to the room and you’re about to reject the offer yet again but Aemond comes rushing into the room, demanding for Maesters with Aenys in his arms, and you choke at the sight, gasping as you scramble to sit by your sons side as Aemond lays him on your bed.

“What happened?— Where was he? Is he going to be okay?” You panic watching as the Maesters quickly get to work.

“He was in the Dragon pit” Aemond sighs, catching his breath as he sits down beside you, his hand holding Aenys’ small one, as your fingers brush through his hair, you lean to press a kiss to his forehead focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest, and you cling onto the small amount of hope you have.

The moon hangs high casting its ominous light upon your shared bedchambers, and you watch Aemond light candles around the room as you still sit next to your youngest son.

“Rhaegar, pass me the cloth please my dear,” you ask watching as your oldest son of ten, as he wrings the cold water from the washcloth before handing it to you and you thank him softly before placing it on Aenys’ forehead.

“Will he be okay, Mother?” He whispers, looking down at his brother with saddened eyes and the sight makes Aemonds’ throat close up.

He walks over to you, looking down at his youngest son, “Yes, of course, he will, the blood of the dragon runs within him” he says, looking over at your exhausted face and it pains him deeply to see.

You nod with agreement, “He will be fine” you say, squeezing your husband's hand gently. He looks up at you with a gentle smile.

“Brella, get Rhaegar ready for bed and make sure he has eaten,” Aemond says, watching as the Maesters walk back into the room, and she nods curtly guiding him out the room after you kiss his cheek wishing him goodnight.

“Hold this under his nose, it should wake him,” Maester Orwyle says, gently handing you a small cup of crushed herbs the scent itches at the back of your throat, a second goes by and you watch, worry etched into your face, as your son stirs from his sleep, rubbing at his eyes.

And you sigh in relief as his eyes flutter open, gasping as you take your son in your arms crying with joy as you rock him gently, “Aenys, my precious boy, oh— my sweet sweet boy” you gasp, you pull away hands clasping either side of his face.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” You ask, studying his face, and he nods, mumbling about how his head is hurting just a little.

Aemond tells Maester Orwyle and he’s quick to prepare some tea. Your husband shuffles to sit next to you bringing you both into his arms, his head resting against Aenys’ and he’s never felt so thankful in his life, his boy is okay.

Aemond smiles as his son snuggles closer to you both, his tiny arms trying their best to wrap around you both, and you laugh at his attempt.

You pull away slightly, “I’ll get you some tea for your head,” you say smoothing down his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

You thank the Maesters' watching as they take their leave before walking over to the table and preparing the herbs for the tea, you feel Aemonds arms wrap around your waist as you turn to face him.

“Here let me do this, my love, you go eat something,” he says quietly, he can tell how tired you are, how exhaustion lingers in your eyes, and the last thing he wants is you burning yourself.

You nod, your thumb grazing over his cheek, “Thank you Aemond, thank you so much” you whisper leaning to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he rests his forehead against yours, and you both go quiet. You hear small giggles as you look over back at the bed, and you both smile at the sight of your son, book in lap as he reads away.

Aemond smiles at the familiar cover, it’s one of his personal favourites, and he comes to slowly realise that perhaps there is more to bond over his son with and he makes a silent vow to you and Aenys to do better by you both.

That night the castle rested calmly knowing the missing prince was found, and you and Aemond both slept very happily with your son between you both, snuggled and safe.

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If I'm writing a third-person, reader-insert one shot, do y'all prefer the reader/unnamed character to purely be referred to as, like, "she" or "the lady", or is (Y/N) preferable?

It's been so long since I've written a one-shot, let alone a reader insert 😭

Any input would be much appreciated!

oh, how easy one burns

Summary:

Aemond’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he spun you to face him. “You should not have danced with him.” The panic once coursing through you spiked into a furious rage, licking and scorching your spine. Rage at Lorent, for betraying your friendship so easily. Rage at Aemond, however unwarranted, for not coming to your rescue sooner, for behaving as though it pained him to sit by your side for longer than but a moment. 

Rating: M, just to be safe. minors I am in your walls. begone.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

(x OC over on AO3, for those who prefer that). Either way, no use of (y/n).

Warnings: Canon typical sexism/gender roles. A guy (not Aemond) get's pushy and a lil' rough. Threat of violence. Reader, though described as a Lannister and shorter than Aemond, has no other distinguishing features. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave me input on my last post regarding whether or not to use y/n!!! It was kinda 50/50 on the matter, so I decided to do reader insert here and an oc over on AO3. So if that's more your speed, check that one out :)

As the young Lady Lannister, you had long known where your place was in the world, what your duty was to your family. It had been drilled into you since you were young; first by your mother and then by your Septa, later in life. Your mother had never once lied to you about what your life would entail. You would marry some noble lord, an heir to a Great House if you were lucky, or perhaps one of your father’s more powerful bannermen to strengthen alliances. You would give your husband heirs and run his household, just as you’d been taught, and if you were lucky, then just maybe you’d love your husband as your mother had grown to love your father. 

Never did you think you’d marry a prince. You had thought to marry Lorent Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, and you’d told your father as much when he inquired as to your thoughts on the matter of your betrothal. You’d met Ser Lorent on several occasions and knew him to be brave and kind. A friend, even, and you realized you’d be luckier than most ladies to at the very least be familiar with your betrothed, prior to the arrangement. 

But to hear that an offer for your hand came from Queen Alicent herself, for Prince Aemond, no less? You’d been over the moon. You’d wasted no time in rushing to your rooms to sort through your gowns with your ladies to determine which were suitable for the Red Keep and which would need to be left behind. 

Your mother hadn’t been as astounded as you thought she might have been. Or even proud. Instead, upon hearing the news, your mother had grasped your face in her hands and said, “you’re a lion of the Rock. Never forget that. You are worthy of princes, kings, and beyond. When your father asked, you might have put forth the idea yourself. Don't ever temper your ambitions in such a way.”  

(Later, you would learn it was your elder half-brother Ser Tyland, the King’s Master of Ships, who arranged for the betrothal. And much later than that, you would curse your brother for making you an unwitting pawn in his games.)

Aemond might have been a second son, but a royal match was nothing to turn one’s nose up at. To marry a prince. He may not be the heir and you might never rule by his side, but your children might sit the throne one day, or their children’s children. And to be a Princess of House Targaryen? No wife of a Lord Paramount had that type of power or influence. No, you would not be Queen, nor would your husband sit on the Iron Throne, but your mother and father had taught you the game well. The Lannister name is powerful, and if anyone has forgotten I will remind them of such.

Not a moon’s turn after your father agreed to the betrothal, you set off to King’s Landing with your mother and father in tow. You spent the entire journey from Casterly Rock envisioning what Prince Aemond might be like, if you could grow to love him, or him you. Will he be like King Viserys? Good natured and humble? Or perhaps like the Old King, Jaehaerys, stern but with a deft hand for politics. The day you were to arrive you put on your best dress, gifted to you by your mother, and let your mother brush and braid your hair as she so often had when you were a child. 

You’d stepped out of the carriage and squinted against the bright sun of midday. You could still remember the heat of the sun, and how you thought you might burst into flames. When your eyes adjusted, you smiled upon spotting your half-brother’s Tyland and Jason awaiting you, but your reunion would have to wait. Queen Alicent stood amongst those gathered to greet you and your family, and you’d curtsied low to the Queen. 

Queen Alicent’s welcome had been warm, and your stomach had been coiled into knots as you turned to face those gathered. Your eyes eagerly searched the crowd, but none stood out to you as Prince Aemond. He should be recognizable, yes? He had one eye, after all. Alicent introduced the Princess Helaena, Prince Aegon, the Hand and her father, Ser Otto, but no Aemond. 

The nervous, tight knots in your stomach slithered loose and were replaced by bitter shame and fury. If you thought about it too hard, searched deep enough, the humiliation could still be felt. How could I have already displeased him? Did he deem you so unimportant as to spurn you upon your arrival? I am a Lannister of the Rock. Not some common house cat. Queen Alicent must have noticed the disappointment on your face, for she was quick to offer an excuse as to Aemond’s absence, which you did not care to remember. 

You would not meet your betrothed until later that night at dinner, an affair that you wanted more than anything to forget. Cold and terse, Aemond was nothing like the kind King Viserys, or the much lauded, late King Jaehaerys. He barely said a word to you, but he watched you. The entire meal you’d felt his eye burning into your skin, right to the bone and your very being. He always watched you, Aemond did. You struggled to puzzle out whether it was in distaste or annoyance. 

Before long, a full moon had passed since your arrival, and you felt you hardly knew anything of your betrothed. You shared strolls through the gardens, at Queen Alicent’s behest you were almost certain, and he’d even invited you to share a meal or two. He maintained his chilly and reticent demeanor throughout your interactions, and at first you’d tried to keep the conversations from falling into an uncomfortable lull. He is not like this with Helaena, or even Aegon. Now you let them fall. You wouldn't sully herself by chasing a man who had no interest in you. Prince or not. Even if it condemned you to a cold marriage. 

Perhaps that is unfair. You had made some amount of progress with Aemond. He’d shared with you the story of how he claimed Vhagar, though that was followed with nearly two days of remarkably stony silence. And if nothing else, he was unfailingly polite, no matter his reluctance to share anything deeper with you than common platitudes. He kissed your hand upon greeting you, insisted you call him Aemond rather than my prince, and whenever you walked beside one another, kept your hand tucked into the crook of his arm. Still, he failed to respond to your probing questions with any matter of depth and seemed much more content to watch you with his one eye.

It infuriated you. Everything about your betrothed infuriated you deep to your core, for despite your best efforts, you found herself utterly besotted with him. How could you not be? You did not wish for a cold marriage, least of all with Aemond. Much to your shame, there was something about him that lit a fire deep in your belly. The graceful way he danced around Ser Criston on the training yard sent a thrill down your spine, and the way he towered over you set your heart aflutter. His quiet intensity, the sharp cut of his jaw, his broad shoulders and lithe muscles, everything about him drew you in. You longed to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair, to feel his arms wrapped tight around you. 

This night, it would seem, would be one of brooding and careful distance from your betrothed. Queen Alicent assured you that your dear, beloved betrothed had never been one for tourneys or feasts. The tourney and feast organized to celebrate the birth of Prince Helaena and Prince Aegon’s twins would apparently be no exception to this aversion. 

The Great Hall of the Red Keep had been finely decorated, with hundreds upon hundreds of candles, setting the room awash in a warm glow. Tall shadows flickered and waved upon the grand pillars lining the hall, and someone had strung garlands and other greenery between them. A small group of musicians played from a cleared space to the right of the Iron Throne, and servants flitted about refilling goblets and presenting new courses. Tables had been arranged to provide room for dancing, and even though the meal was far from over, already dancers flocked to the floor.

You sighed and rested your chin in your hand and watched those dancing with longing. Aemond had graced you with a half-hearted dance before returning you to your seat, where you remained. A pity, for Aemond was an exceptional dancer, and he looked particularly handsome that evening. He wore black, as he was wont to do, and his hair shone brilliantly in the candlelight. The shadows played against the sharp lines of his face as he leaned against a pillar in conversation with Ser Criston. When Aemond caught you staring you refused to look away, and he spared you only a brief scowl. 

Am I to remain here by myself the whole feast? Any other feast, and you might have contended yourself with Helaena’s company. You’d grown rather fond of the princess, even if her adoration of bugs churned your stomach. But Princess Helaena had retired early that night, still weary from the birth of the twins. You had no desire to follow suit and depart early. You’d loved feasts back home, and never grew tired of dancing. Tyland or Jason might dance with me. You scanned the hall for your brothers from where you sat, and when you found no sign of them you huffed. 

Across the table, Alicent gave you a tight, thin-lipped smile of pity. For all your betrothed was reserved, his mother was genial and welcoming. The Queen had been nothing but polite since you arrived, and you much appreciated her efforts to get to know you and even enjoyed the weekly, midday meals Alicent invited you to. You might have struck up a conversation with Alicent but she sat beside her father, deep in conversation, and there was something about the Hand which you misliked. She’s like to follow after Helaena before long, anyhow.

A throat clearing behind you startled you, and you peered over your shoulder to find none other than Ser Lorent Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden who you had once thought to marry, grinning down at you.

 “Ser Lorent! I hadn’t thought you to be in attendance!” You returned his grin with a shy smile and offered your hand. Ever courteous and polite, Ser Lorent kissed it. 

“The grandest tournament of the year? Certainly you know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t miss it, my lady.” You laughed, and insisted Ser Lorent call you by your name, for you were friends, were you not? “I hear congratulations are in order. Where is your betrothed?” Lorent craned his neck and glanced around the hall. 

“Elsewhere. He isn’t overly fond of dancing,” you said. You glanced around the hall but found no sight of Aemond. Has he left me here alone? 

“A pity. You’ll have to dance with me, then.” Lorent held out his hand expectantly, but you faltered. The dutiful thing to do would be to wait for Aemond to return, but another survey of the hall failed to reveal him. I will not sit here and languish. 

“I would love to,” you said, and took his hand and followed him to the floor. You allowed yourself to study your dance partner. Ser Lorent was far from homely with his honey brown curls, which had been neatly swept back, or warm, golden eyes. He’d been blessed with his father’s sharp jaw and aquiline nose, and in another life you might have been content to marry him. He is no Aemond, though. While Lorent did love tourneys, his father had no doubt sent him to take part with the hope he might find a bride. She’ll be lucky, whoever she might be. 

“You look lovely my lady, as always.” Warmth flushed through you at the compliment. Your dress was one of Lannister crimson, and if it was prideful and vain to think that it suited you wonderfully, then so be it. 

As they danced, he asked you of your father and mother, of your brothers and your time spent in King’s Landing thus far. You were so wrapped up in dancing and laughing as he spun you around and around that you didn’t notice how close he’d drawn you, or how his hand had wandered lower and lower on your back. 

“I saw your father, earlier today talking to my father. Though I don’t see him now.” He lifted you in the air along with everyone else, and you let out a peal of laughter. 

“He despises crowds like this. He and my mother left shortly after they finished their meal.” 

“Pity. I had hoped to speak with him, it will have to wait I suppose.” He spun you out and around again and you frowned. 

When they faced each other once more, you asked, “what about?” What could be so important that he speak to your father in person, rather than by letter? 

“I plan to approach him on the morrow. You shouldn’t marry Aemond, he won’t make you happy.” You froze, and it felt as though someone had tied bricks to your ankles. Lorent pulled you along, guiding you through the dance as though nothing was amiss, as if he’d simply commented on the roast boar that had been the main course.

Your father had signed the agreement upon your arrival. He can’t mean to have my father break it? “Lorent–” 

“You know me. You know nothing of him,” Lorent’s words sat queerly in your belly. Aemond hadn’t spoken to you much, but you saw. You saw the way he treated Helaena with a sweet gentleness, the way he treated his mother with respect and love. And Vhagar. His whole being had come alight when you asked him about the dragon, and even a blind fool could have heard the pride and reverence in his words when he spoke of her. He was fierce and cautious, loyal and prideful and dangerous with a sword. And I thought I knew little of him. No, you’d learned much more than you thought. 

“Lorent, what are you saying?” You knew precisely what he was saying, but you hoped, prayed, that you’d taken leave of your senses and were horribly mistaken.

“It should be me you’re marrying, we both know it. Your father told mine you’d chosen me before Queen Alicent wrote him. It isn’t too late.” The warmth in his eyes had grown to a raging inferno, and you increased the distance between you. Or tried to, anyway. You became acutely aware of the vice grip he had on your waist. 

“Lorent please, I’m happy to marry Aemond. It wouldn’t be right to break the betrothal.” You tried to step back, and his hand fell to wrap tightly around your wrist. You frantically looked around, but no one had noticed anything was amiss. I can’t break away, without causing a scene. You didn’t want to cause a scene, Alicent had worked so hard to put the feast together. You could hear your mother’s stern voice in your head, telling you to keep your composure, to comport herself as a lady should, to avoid embarrassing your family before the King, in such a manner. 

“Aemond’s a fool. You’re far too beautiful to be treated in such a way. You know it isn’t right, I can offer you so much more. Highgarden is to be mine, it should be yours as well. It’s meant to be yours alongside me, I’ve always intended it to be so. Ever since your father hosted that tourney all those years ago, and we danced together. Don’t you remember? I said I’d make you my lady if you wished.” You scrutinized your friend’s face, but found nothing of the man you knew. His hair had fallen forward and hung in his eyes, and he’d tugged you close enough to where you could smell sour ale on his breath.

“We were children, Lorent, I wish to marry Aemond. My father will never break the agreement, it’s been signed, Lorent.” Panic constricted your throat and clouded your brain. They still danced, but to your horror he had slowly worked them towards the back of the hall. 

“You wouldn’t have told your father my name if you wished to marry Aemond. It’s okay if you don’t understand now, my lady, you will in time. We can force your father’s hand, if he won’t see reason. He’ll have to break it if your virtue is in question.” He maneuvered them closer and closer towards the back of the hall and the exit. Your heart shuddered and nausea overwhelmed your senses at what he implied.

You didn’t want to marry Lorent, or be the Lady of Highgarden. You wanted Aemond, with his stormy silences and rough hands and quiet, careful consideration. You subtly attempted to yank your arm free again but his grip tightened, and his other hand skirted even lower than it already was. The flush that flared through your blood now wasn’t one of flattery, as it had been earlier. Bitter dread slithered down your spine. “Lorent please let me go, this is hardly—” 

“If you wouldn’t mind, Ser Lorent, I’d very much like to dance with my betrothed.” Aemond’s voice was low and dangerous, and Lorent was quick to release you. Relief coursed through you and you all but leapt backwards towards Aemond. He set a steadying hand on your shoulder. 

Ser Lorent shifted his gaze between you and Aemond, and whatever he opened his mouth to say he must have thought better of, as he only nodded and thanked you for the dance before striding away. 

Aemond’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he spun you to face him. “You should not have danced with him.” The panic once coursing through you spiked into a furious rage, licking and scorching your spine. Rage at Lorent, for betraying your friendship so easily. Rage at Aemond, however unwarranted, for not coming to your rescue sooner, for behaving as though it pained him to sit by your side for longer than but a moment. 

That he would presume to tell me such a thing, after I tried so hard to free myself from Lorent. “You weren’t there. I don’t belong to you, I can dance with whomever I wish.” 

Aemond hummed low and stared at you a moment, before sharply grabbing your arm and dragging you from the hall. You stumbled to keep space with him as he weaved through the halls of the Red Keep, up one staircase and left around a corner, before turning right down another. Your demands to know just what he thought he was doing fell on deaf ears until he halted and sent you crashing into him. 

You might have fallen if not for Aemond. He clutched your shoulders and crowded you against a wall. You looked around nervously but there was no one to be found, and no one to overhear. Aemond had brought them to a quiet alcove, far from the feast and drunken revelers. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. You made to step around him but he blocked your path and stepped closer to you. “Why do you care who I dance or speak with? You’ve taken no interest in me, I’m inclined to think you have no wish to marry me at all. It should overjoy you that someone desires to take me off your hands.” 

His jaw shifted, and he stepped closer still. “He wishes to marry you? What did he say to you?” 

“Try not to sound so eager, my prince,” you sneered. “There are plenty who would be glad to take me off your hands, to free you from the burden that is my presence.” You didn’t know where this sudden bravery or impertinence came from, nor why you taunted him so. Perhaps you wished to provoke him, to earn some kind of reaction from him other than his usual, stoic countenance. Whatever it was, you made no efforts to quell it. 

Your back hit the wall as Aemond took a last step towards you. His chest brushed hers, and a large hand gripped your chin. It was entirely improper, and there would be hell to pay, if any caught them in such a position. His eye roamed your face and his lip curled in vicious mockery. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Are you really so ashamed of me?” 

“Ashamed? It is you who are ashamed! Would it truly be such a hardship to spend more than a fleeting moment with me? Am I so terrible?” 

“Why? So you can cower in disgust at my eye like everyone else? Or so I can watch you lust after my brother and the throne, like everyone else?” 

“I do not wish to marry Aegon,” you spat. You thought of how he dishonored Helaena, how he openly lusted after other ladies of the court. Poor Helaena, how I would hate to be shackled to such a rake. “And how can I cower in disgust when you’ve never removed the cover?” 

As if to prove a point, Aemond tore the eye patch from his head and let it fall to the floor. The sapphire was a brilliant blue, a spot of beauty amidst an old, ugly wound. The scar was raised and jagged but still; you did not waver. You tentatively raised a hand to gently brush the scar, though when he flinched you withdrew. “I am sorry that happened to you,” you whispered

For a moment, his scowl softened. He frowned down at you before his face hardened once more. “And Ser Lorent? You do not wish to marry him?” His mocking tone returned, but your anger towards Aemond’s presumptions had simmered away. All that was left was humiliation at the way Lorent had grabbed you, and anger towards him for being so cruel. 

“I do not wish to marry Ser Lorent.” Your voice was soft, and all the vitriol swallowed. You studied the collar of his doublet and the fine, subtle embroidery which adorned it. “I only wished to dance with him, I didn’t think he’d be so… terrible. I did not think he’d grab me in such a way, I hadn’t known him to be a cruel man. I tried to pull away. Did you not see?”

“I did not.” The grip he had on your chin remained, but lessened to something more tender and soothing. He nudged your chin until you met his eye. “You’re to be my wife. I would know what he said to upset you so.” 

You hesitated, but never had you seen such an earnest, guileless expression from Aemond directed at you. It struck you then that he was being sincere. You inhaled deep; a fortifying breath. “He intends to go to my father and try to convince him to break our betrothal. I did not want him to touch me in that way, Aemond. I told him I didn’t want any of it, but he wouldn’t listen.” 

The fire in his eye returned with a vengeance, but this time not directed at you. “Is that all?”  When you shifted away from his prying gaze, he gently turned you to face him again. “Tell me.” 

“He made mention of my virtue. He said that if it were in question— that we could use it to force my father’s hand. I don’t wish for that, Aemond. I swear it.” Something he said earlier itched at your mind. “I am not ashamed of you.” 

Aemond placed both hands firmly on either side of your face, forcing you to meet his eye head on. “I will take his hands for hurting you. And his tongue, for suggesting such a thing, if you wish.” 

The cold intensity of his eye belayed any thought you might have had that he was jesting. You settled your hands at his wrists, keeping him from moving. “You needn’t do that, Aemond. It’s not worth the trouble.” 

Aemond grunted and leaned closer, his nose brushing hers. “It would be. You’re to be my wife, not his. Mine.”  And just as swiftly as he’d dragged you from the hall, his lips were on hers. His hand grasped your head, and the other fell to your waist, pressing you to him. 

It was nothing like the sweet, shy kisses you’d shared with the young squires in your youth at Casterly Rock, behind the stables. It was all fire and fury. His teeth scraped her’s and his tongue traced your bottom lip, drawing you deeper into him. He pulled away and your lips chased after him and your hands clenched into his doublet. 

You panted, trying to catch your breath and make sense of the shift in his attentions. “I did not think you wished to marry me,” you sheepishly admitted. “Or that you held any affection towards me at all.” 

He brushed feather-light fingers across your swollen lips. He swallowed hard. “I do not think you horrible, or terrible. It frightens me is all, to have something so precious which might be taken from me just as easily as it’s given.” There is more to it than that. There must be. You resolved to not push the issue tonight. What is he so fearful of, truly? 

This time when he kissed you it was slow and languid, yet still anything but sweet. He stepped back and you whined and pulled him back to you, close enough for his lips to brush hers when he said, “if he thinks to approach you again I’ll have his head. See if I won’t.” 

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond Taragryen x female reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began

Word count: 17.5 K (I need help)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, Aegon being kind of a good brother, men having the audacity, jealous Aemond, reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, but no mention of who her father is

~~

“What?”

Rhaenerya winced and bowed her head at the sharp tone. She knew her daughter would not take the news lightly, but she had hoped she could understand the delicate nature of their situation. 

“Darling, I know I told you-”

“Are you alright with this?” She interrupted, turning to Daemon who was sitting stone-faced, hating the news as much as she was. 

He opened his mouth, most likely to spew insults about her soon to be betrothed, but Rhaenrya’s sharp glare quickly quieted him and she turned desperately to her raging daughter. 

“My love, please understand-”

“What is there to understand?” Her daughter continued, her eyes wide, searing with betrayal. “You told me I would have a choice, that I would never be used as some political pawn for power.”

“We are on the verge of a succession war. We all have a duty to perform and as my heir you have your own to fulfill.”

The mention of the fight for succession, the hint as to who exactly she would be marrying did not register in her mind or it would have calmed the burning fire inside her. All she could make out in the maelstrom in her mind was that she was to be married and it was not her choice. 

She remembered, just moons ago, when Jason Lannister had offered his hand. The thought of being forced into the bed of a man decades older than her, power hungry and desperate to take the titles she could give him, made her feel sick to her stomach. 

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She told her mother, her voice sounding weaker, knowing she was facing a losing battle. 

Rhaenerya’s face fell, her daughter’s words cutting her deeply, causing an aching pain to bloom in her chest. 

“Please, if you would just listen, you might change-”

“I might change my mind and accept the fact that I’m to be sold like a mare?” She argued and quickly turned on her heel, storming out of the room. 

Rhaenerya pinched the bridge of her nose as she exhaled loudly, her frustration clear. Daemon tapped his fingers against his thigh, his gaze remaining on the empty doorway.

“That went as well as I expected.” He spoke dryly, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tiredness in his wife’s eyes. “She’ll get over it. She’ll eventually stop arguing long enough for you to explain.”

“She’s always been stubborn, but she has never raged like this before. She’s been spending too much time with you.” 

Daemon scoffed, though he couldn’t exactly deny the claim. 

“If she had only let me finish, she would have been happy with the news. She used to be so close to Aemond, I know she’s always cared for him. She barely spoke to me when we left King’s Landing, she was so mad that I had separated them.”

“I still say she can do better than that one-eyed cunt.” 

“Daemon.” Rhaenerya hissed, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. “It is already done. The King has accepted the betrothal and their union will finally mend the divide between our families.”

~~

Her breathing was labored as she raced through the halls, unsure of where she was heading. Outside, she heard Vermithor’s loud roar, her dragon sensing his bonded rider’s discomfort and anger. She had a fleeting thought of racing to her beloved dragon and flying across the sea, hiding away from her duties for the rest of her days.

The thought was quick to dissolve. She knew Daemon would catch her before she could get Vermithor off the grounds of Dragonstone. 

So that left her to stew in her anger at being forced to marry a man she didn’t love and probably would never love and her hurt that her mother had broken the promise she had told her years ago as a child, that she would never be used a political pawn, that her hand in marriage would never be forced.

She briefly thought of a young boy with silver hair and quickly pushed the thought away when the ache of longing overtook her. 

The thought of the old, greedy, disrespectful lord she was soon to marry made her want to throw up. This was never what she pictured for herself. 

Defeated, she trudged back to her room, her head down, a picture of broken girlhood too many women in this realm knew all too well. 

“Princess, are you alright?” 

She perked up, her eyes meeting the caring gaze of her guard, Ser Darick, standing vigil at her door. 

A twisted idea unfurled inside her, a half-hearted plan of rebellion sparked by the flames of anger that burned brightly. 

She smiled, the gesture bringing one to his own lips. She had always found him handsome, many late nights had been spent with Baela and Rhaena giggling amongst each other about his broad shoulders and silken hair. 

She had no deeper desires for him, that place in her heart was firmly held by the sweet boy she left behind years ago, but it didn’t stop her from noticing the way her guard looked at her. She knew he desired her and the anger inside of her left her wanting for one thing she could control, one thing the man who would soon own her would never have. 

“I’m afraid I need your help with something in my chambers.” She spoke sweetly. Ser Darick nodded eagerly and he followed her inside. 

She closed the door behind them, causing him to turn back to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he noticed the pristine state of her chambers. 

“Princess-?”

“I see how you look at me, Ser Darick.” She stated bluntly, vindicated from the way his eyes widened and averted from her gaze. “There’s not many things in my life that I get to choose and I’d like you to help me make one last choice before my freedom is taken from me.”

“I don’t understand.” 

She untied the laces of her dress, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, leaving her in a sheer slip. The man before her choked on his breath, the hunger in his eyes making her heart race, she knew he wanted her. She stepped towards him, her hands running over the expanse of his chest. 

“We shouldn’t. I swore an oath-”

“To protect me.” She finished his sentence. “I think this is exactly the protection I need.” She smiled cheekily. 

She pulled the shift over her head, leaving her body bare to him and she knew the second he gave in as his eyes took in every inch of her body. He dropped his hand from the hilt of the sword on his hip and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he crashed his lips to hers. 

She smiled in between kisses, feeling like she had her power back as she undid the pieces of armor from his body. 

She steadily ignored the guilt that crept through her mind, guilt for defying her mother and her duty. Moans fell from her lips as her guard took her hard and fast, his hunger for her clear in the way he held her tightly, in the way he refused to part his lips from any inch of her body. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the image before her melt into one of the silver haired, one-eyed man she longed for. A shiver wracked her body, her toes curling at the images she conjured in her mind.

She bit her lip, stopping herself from letting the wrong name fall from her lips as she reached her peak. As the man above her shuddered to his end, her name bellowed in the quiet room, she thought of how Aemond would sound saying her name in rapture. 

As Ser Darick panted against her lips, his body collapsing against hers, she let herself indulge in the passionate touch of another and mourned for what she believed her future would hold. 

~~

Aemond was sitting stiffly in the same spot he had been for the last ten minutes, since his mother had told him the news. 

He couldn’t make sense of the emotions whirling within him. Relief was the first one he could pinpoint, but it quickly turned to guilt, soon to remorse, and then to the sham of disdain he had tried so hard to feel for her since the night he had lost his eye. 

Though no matter how hard he had tried to hate her like he hated the rest of her family, he found he could never conjure any for her. She never ridiculed him the way Aegon and her bastard brothers had, she was never a part of the cruel jokes and pranks they pulled on him. They were both young Targaryen’s without dragons and had found solace in their shared longing. Despite her own perceived shortcoming, she never wavered in the comfort she bestowed upon him. 

She spent many nights holding his hand, reassuring him he was worthy of a dragon when the teasing became too much for him to handle. She stuck up for him like no one else ever had. She even looked down upon her own brothers, scolding them for their immature teasing and jokes at his expense. 

 He remembered the worst night of his life, as his family splintered with the loss of his eye and the insults he had hurled at the Strong bastards.

But he always remembered how she had tearfully screamed at her own brother for what was done to him. He remembered when hours later, she snuck into his room, hugged him tightly and told him how proud she was that he had claimed Vhagar. 

He remembered how just a year later he had heard the news she had laid claim to the wild dragon, Vermithor. He wanted so badly to saddle his own dragon and make his way to her, to tell her how proud he was of her the same way she had praised him. 

But his mother had never had allowed it 

He could never hate her. She was never just another one of Rhaenyra’s bastard children and as much as he tried to tell himself to remain neutral, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the news of his mother’s reluctant acceptance of their betrothal, one he had longed for but never had hope of ever coming to fruition. 

“Aemond?”

His mother’s voice broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention towards her, attempting to remain stoic so he would not reveal his true feelings about the news. 

“Tell me if this is truly what you want. If not, I will tell Rhaenyra the betrothal is off.” 

Panic grew at the thought of his mother, or even his scheming grandfather, taking this away from him before he even got the chance to revel in it. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“It’s alright, Mother. I will perform my duty.” 

Alicent smiled and reached over to place her hand over his. She adored her son and his strong sense of duty that was certainly lost to his older brother. Despite his attempts to remain stone-faced, Alicent knew her son too well, she knew what he truly longed for. 

She remembered how close he had been with Rhaenyra’s eldest child and she knew how devastated he had been when she had left for Dragonstone. Aemond had refused even meeting possible suitors for years and she could see his desire to shut her down as she mentioned the betrothal.

Until she had mentioned the Princess’ name.

It had shut him up quickly and he had stayed quiet, taking in the news with a contemplative expression that was all too familiar on her stoic boy’s face. 

But it was the slightest twitch of his lips upwards and the way he seemed to exhale in relief, every inch of his body losing its rigidity that told Alicent this was the right decision. Despite her ire for Rhaenerya and her children, the thought of an impending war was not something she wanted and it would clearly make her son happy, an emotion she did not often see him indulge in. 

She smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“They will arrive in a few day’s time. We will start preparations for the wedding as soon as possible.” 

With her parting words, Aemond was left to remain sitting, leaning on his elbow as his hand covered his mouth, trying to make sense of the emotions he was feeling that were so foreign to him. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. 

It didn’t seem real. 

~~

By the next morning, with an awkward passing smile to Ser Darick, she was headed towards the dining hall, her pace slow, as if she could delay greeting her family. She felt as though there was now an enormous target on her back, letting everyone she passed know what she had done the previous night. 

“Darling,”

She startled, placing a hand over her chest and plastering on a smile as she greeted her mother stiffly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mother. I just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Rhaenyra frowned and linked her arm through her daughter’s. “I know last night was difficult, but I think you’ll come around to it.”

She tensed, picturing the cruel, power hungry lord she’d be chained to for the rest of her life.

“Mother-”

“If you had let me finish, you would have heard that I have betrothed you to Aemond.”

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, almost causing her mother to trip over her own feet. Rhaenyra looked back at her daughter, expecting to see pure joy cross her features but she was confused to see the anguish in her expression.

She stepped towards her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand caressing down the length of her hair.

“Darling, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy with the news, I know how much you care for him.”

The lump in her throat grew so tight, she worried she’d choke to death before she could voice her mistake. The guilt that had already been lingering beneath her skin grew tenfold, threatening to knock her right off her feet.

“But… the Queen… she’d never agree.”

“She did.” Rhaenyra confirmed, still perplexed by her daughter’s reaction. “The King made his decree, something even she cannot dictate. With you as my heir, Aemond will be King Consort. I guess she realizes that was as good a consolation as she would get.”

It was real. She was to marry Aemond, the man she had longed for for years. She hadn’t even been reunited with him and she had already betrayed him. 

“Mother-” She paused, taking in a ragged breath, her hand holding tightly to her mother’s arm for stability. “I… I did something stupid.”

Rhaenrya’s face twisted into an expression of concern and she quickly ushered her daughter through the halls into the privacy of her chambers. She sat on her bed, her hand held tightly to her daughter’s as she tearfully explained what she had done the night before.

The first emotion to rise was a dangerous protective anger. 

Rhaenyra sprang to her feet, her hands clenched into fists and she grinded her teeth. 

“If that man did anything to pressure you-”

“Mother, stop. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” Her daughter assured her, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at having to explain her indiscretion. 

Her words caused her mother to sigh and begin to pace. 

“Aemond can never- Alicent can never know about this.” 

“What?”

“This betrothal is tenuous, it took months for Alicent to give in, it took months for the decree to even make it to my father. The first sign of a crack, she’ll tear it apart, her and that lecherous father of hers.” Rhaenrya ranted.

Guilt burned through her veins, the thought that her stupid decision could ruin her family made her feel sick. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I just… the thought of being married to some old man-”

“Oh my love.” Rhaenyra took a seat next to her daughter, taking her hands in her, pressing a kiss to her shaking knuckles. “Do not blame yourself.”

“This was the path to peace and I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, as if speaking it into existence with her mere words. She gave her daughter a weak smile, her actions all too familiar to her.  “You know I was about your age when I had the same idea of a rebellion against duty.”

Her daughter looked at her curiously, but Rhaenyra’s heavy sigh was indicative that she didn’t want to spare too many details of that fateful night when Daemon had taken her to a brothel that led her to bring Ser Criston to her bed. 

She shouldn’t have been surprised that her dragon of a daughter had rebelled just as similarly as she had all those years ago.  

A half-hearted plan began to form, one based on tenuous lies, but it was all she had. 

“We’ll switch rotations, you’ll never have to see Ser Darick again. We’ll go to King’s Landing, you will marry Aemond and they will all be none the wiser about what happened last night.”

“Will you tell Daemon?” She asked fearfully.

Rhaenyra let out an amused huff of laughter. “Not unless you want your guard tortured and torn limb from limb.”

Sensing her daughter’s lingering anxiety, she placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“No one will ever know.”

A shuddering breath escaped her. She prayed to the Seven her mother’s words were true. 

~~

Aemond stood tensely in the courtyard with his family, his hands firmly planted behind his back, the picture of royal stoicism. He just hoped no one could see how his fingers fidgeted behind his back, his nerves getting the better of him.

It had been six long years since he had seen her, since that last visit she had paid him where she had mourned his injury with him and kissed his cheek, a moment that left him wondering if he would live with a blush on his cheeks for the rest of his life.

An elbow to his side forced him out of his daze and he turned to see Aegon’s smug smirk as he gestured with his head at the oncoming carriage. 

“Creaming your pants yet?”

Aemond sneered at his brother, his jaw clenching as he turned himself to face straight ahead, steadily ignoring the amused smirk sent his way at his expense. 

His heart began to race as the carriage door opened, anticipation heavy on his shoulders. With every face he saw that wasn’t hers his impatience began to rise, holding back a glare to her brothers who exited first. 

He didn’t pay attention as his mother and Rhaenyra greeted each other awkwardly. He didn’t spare his nephews a second look. All he saw was her. He perked up the moment his gaze found her, his lips parting unknowingly, no longer holding strongly to the passive facade he had forced all day.

She had grown into a beautiful woman in the past six years. He had pictured this moment for so long and none of his late night fantasies could ever compare to the woman before him. 

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as she stepped towards him. For years he had tried so hard to push down the feelings of longing that arose at the thought of her. For so long he had forced himself to believe she was nothing more than an enemy, a bastard girl that deserved nothing. 

But as she stood in front of him now, grown and more beautiful than he could have ever conceived, he realized it was all a farce. Every hateful thought he had forced into his head about her was nothing more than a lie. 

“Prince Aemond.” She greeted with a small curtsey, the small smile curling on her lips capturing his eye effortlessly. 

After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken a word, a brief flash of panic racing through him at the embarrassment that he had been merely staring at her like a fool.

“Princess.” He responded slightly bashfully as he bowed his head. 

The air surrounding them was awkward, both with so many things to say that had been left unsaid for years, complicated feelings that went unresolved for so long. 

But they were to be married in a mere week's time. The family drama that cut through their childhood bond did not need to be addressed, they had no choice but to accept the inevitable. 

He would be her husband no matter if he came to terms with the delusion he had forced for years. He would be her husband no matter if he had unlearned everything his mother and grandsire had instilled in him for years. 

~~

A welcome feast had been thrown in their honor. The table of royals had been a sight of strain as the ailing King gave his remarks to the room, welcoming his dear eldest daughter back to King’s Landing, lamenting the union of their divided family through the marriage of his first granddaughter and his second son. 

The stifling tension among their family remained throughout the celebration. With the secret weighing heavily on her, she felt as though she couldn’t even spare a glance at her betrothed without choking on the intense guilt she couldn’t shake. 

As the heir of the heir and a coveted Targaryen Princess, her mother’s only daughter, she was practically forced to remain on the dancefloor all night, indulging in the many noble Lords and their sons that offered their hand. 

“Mind if I cut in?”

She almost audibly sighed in relief at the sound of her brother’s voice, taking the place of the obnoxious boy who had accosted her for three dances. Since the feast began, she’d been approached by more Lords than she could count. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly as he began to dance with her.

“I’m fine.”

“You say the word and I’ll take you back to Dragonstone.”

“Jace.” She scolded, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Sister.” He defended. “You’re about to marry the man that tormented us as children.”

She frowned, her eyes drifting to Aemond who sat at the head table, eyeing the dancing couples with disinterest. The sight of his eye patch was like a punch to the gut, the memory of what had happened that night was enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“If I remember correctly, it was you, Lucerys and Aegon that tormented him as children.”

“He called us bastards.”

“And he lost an eye.” She reminded him tersely. “I’d say that more than evens the odds.”

Jace sighed heavily, the conversation weighing heavily on him. He wasn’t proud of his actions that night or how he had treated his uncle as children, but the guilt wasn’t enough to allow him to feel happy for this union. 

“He’s different now.” Her brother mumbled. “He seems… angry.”

“Can you blame him?” 

Jace sighed again to which she sent him a pointed look. It was as if it pained him to admit his guilt, to admit that their uncle wasn’t the villainous enemy he had built up in his head. He looked at his sister thoughtfully, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter, Jace.”

“It does. Especially if you are to be married to a man that would make you miserable.” 

She remained quiet, contemplating his words with confliction. Misery was never a feeling that followed the thought of her uncle. She knew their marriage could be great, that they could foster a beautiful love, but only if he let it and only if he never discovered her betrayal. 

As the song ended and Jace moved from her side to spare a dance with an impatient Baela, she floundered for a moment, eyeing her brother and his betrothed for a moment, their delighted smiles, the clear fondness they held for each other stirring envy within her. 

She wondered if her own marriage would bear the same smiles. 

She looked around, dread settling inside her as her gaze passed over the many other noble sons that wanted their chance to dance with her. It was the last thing she wanted. 

With a heavy breath, she pushed her way through the throng of dancing couples and slunk out onto the balcony, hoping no one had noticed her swift exit and moved to follow. It had been years since she’d been in King’s Landing, it seemed the novelty of her family had not waned. 

It was as if everyone wanted a piece of her. She loathed it. 

Only a minute later, she heard footsteps approaching and she grit her teeth, her peace seeming to be taken from her as quickly as she had gained it. She turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of Aemond stepping out onto the balcony. 

He startled slightly when he noticed her and smiled, a gesture that was weak and awkward, though it managed to bring an equally weak smile to her own lips.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” He began, sounding slightly stilted. 

“You aren’t.” She assured him. “I can leave if you wish to be alone.”

He eyed her for a long moment, as if surprised by her request, but he just shook his head and approached her slowly so he was standing at her side. 

“This is where I seem to find myself during these events, when I need to get away. I presume you are out here for the same reason.”

“Yes, I fear my feet have grown too tired to indulge in another dance.” She replied, hoping her words didn’t sound as dour to him as they did to her own ears.

Aemond seemed to grimace, the reminder of the many lords who had taken her hand for a dance stirring something within him he didn’t quite recognize. He didn’t care for it. 

“I probably shouldn’t have left, I just…”

“Needed a minute.” Aemond supplied as she trailed off. She nodded bashfully, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyper aware of her appearance as she realized this was the first time she had been alone with Aemond in years.

They were no longer childhood friends, they were betrothed. It was enough to drive her nerves to a boiling point where she could no longer meet his eye.

He stepped closer to her so he was leaning against the railing next to her, mirroring her position, an act that signaled ease.

“I had an interesting conversation with your brother.”

Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. She was surprised Lucerys even listened to her request, that he had even attempted to approach the man he had scarred.

“I have a feeling that was your doing.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze and every fear she had that she had crossed the line faded in an instant as she saw the gratitude in his expression. 

“You have no obligation to forgive him.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh and bowed his head slightly. “Those were the exact words your brother said as well.”

She inwardly cursed her brother. He wasn’t supposed to say word for word what she had asked of him. 

“I just wished to solve the rift in our family. We can’t very well expect a happy marriage if we spend our time hating each other.”

“I never hated you.” Aemond responded quickly, his brows now furrowed as he moved in closer to her. “I may have.. complicated feelings for your brothers, but I… I never felt any of that towards you.”

She felt her breath hitch, her throat feeling tighter, as if she suddenly forgot to breathe with him so close to her. 

“Are you truly content with marrying a bastard?” 

Aemond flinched, her words so unexpected, he involuntarily took a step back, asif his instincts were telling him to run far from this conversation and never look back. He spoke her name softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve whispered about our parentage our entire childhood. Am I to believe the sentiment now means nothing to you?” Her voice was cutting, but not with anger. She just sounded disappointed and somehow, Aemound found it so much worse.

“I never called you- it was never…” He stammered for a moment before sighing heavily, his teeth gritting as he looked out onto the horizon, desperately trying to find the words he needed to tell her she was never a part of the ire he held for her brothers. 

She watched him, a deep part of her feeling satisfaction to see him flounder as he was. She held much affection for Aemond, especially in their childhood, but his affliction for calling her brothers ‘Strong’ was always a source of hurt and caused many petty arguments between them before they had been separated.

“It was never about you.” He admitted quietly.

“They are my brothers, Aemond. I am not absolved from what you say about them.”

“But you are.” 

Her breath was stolen from her at the gravity of his words, at the sincerity she heard from him. She eyed him cautiously for a long moment, trying to gauge just what she felt for the man before her now, no longer the shy and sweet boy she had once known. 

She longed for him, but she wasn’t sure if the person she desperately desired even existed any more. 

But with how he looked at her, how hard he seemed to be trying to appease her, left her feeling defenseless against her own fears. 

“Why did you never write to me?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she regretted even posing the question. 

An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t recognize. He looked tortured, as if the mention of the part he played in their loss of friendship all those years ago brought him pain. The letters he received from her that were left unanswered had grated on him for years. 

Years ago, he had even written a letter to her to apologize for his silence, but his mother had caught him, tore the letter to shreds and warned him not to reach out to Rhaenyra’s bastard daughter, that he would only get hurt again if he dared to reconnect with them. 

“I never wished to ignore you.” He spoke softly. “It was just, after what had happened on Driftmark, my mother-”

“I understand.” She interrupted. The state of their family wasn’t the fault of themselves alone, their mothers had a complicated relationship they could barely comprehend. It was no fault of their own that they listened to the vitriol their mothers spoke in their years of hurt. 

“I never wanted to ignore you.” He repeated, as if he was desperate for her to believe him. 

The years of hurt that had cut her heart deeper and deeper with every unanswered letter she had sent slowly began to heal as she looked into his eye and saw the reverence with which he gazed at her. 

“I am willing to put the years behind me. If we are to be married, I don’t want there to be animosity between us.”

“There isn’t, at least on my part.” He assured her, looking to her hopefully, almost holding his breath for her next words.

“There is none on mine either.”

He nodded, the relief coursing through him feeling like the antidote to the years of guilt and sadness that surrounded his thoughts of her. His gaze met hers and the small smile, more genuine than the one she had greeted him with, caused his own to grow, a gesture that was no longer forced, but now one of hopeful excitement. 

The prospect of marriage no longer seemed so daunting.

~~

In the days leading up to the wedding, they didn’t see much of each other. 

She felt more lonely in the place she used to call home than she had expected. While she had her family, it was clear they were all on edge about the upcoming wedding and hadn’t exactly settled being in the Keep where the Hightower influence reigned supreme. 

She found herself taking Vermithor out daily to escape the tension among her family. 

The only peace she found was amongst the clouds, where the air was thinner, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was as if the reminder that there were things more dangerous than her own family was a comfort to her situation.

Suddenly, the earth shattering roar of a great beast sounded behind her, startling her. She turned quickly, her eyes widening as she saw the enormous figure of Vhagar taking to the skies, her gargantuan form heading towards her.

She watched the creature in awe, the great war dragon, centuries older than her, gliding through the skies like a beautiful relic. 

“It’s alright.” She soothed the dragon below her who grumbled at the unexpected presence of another. 

She kept her head turned, her eyes trailing the hulking figure that grew closer. A small smile curled on her lips as she spotted the silver hair of her betrothed atop his mighty dragon. 

As Vhagar approached, their eyes met, shared smiles passing between them. She gripped onto the reins in her hands and directed Vermithor forward, her large dragon diving towards the water below them. 

A trilled call from behind made her smile, knowing Vhagar was following suit. She looked over her shoulder, a warmth building within her as she saw Aemond guiding his dragon to follow her every move. 

The two of them didn’t share any words as they flew together in solidarity. She laughed as Vermithor let out a grumble of content. Her dragon suddenly titled, moving in closer to the dragon at his side, almost bumping the dragon beside them. 

She froze momentarily, gripping onto the reins tighter, preparing for an adverse reaction from the surly war dragon, but she could only watch in disbelief, her lips parting in awe as Vhagar crooned, a sound she had never heard from a dragon before, and bumped her head against Vermithor’s, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate.

She laughed, the warmth within her chest that had been stirring, now in full bloom. She turned to Aemond who watched the dragons with a small, amused smile. His head turned, their eyes meeting and as though a force greater than anything they had ever felt before, they couldn’t look away. 

As he looked at her, that lone blue eye encroached by a softness that was so familiar to her, she felt as though she was once again face to face with that boy she had loved all those years ago.

~~

Their wedding was a beautiful affair. 

No one would know it was a union between a fractured family. Though, it seemed as though their wedding was already stitching their broken family back together. Or it may have something to do with the amount of wine consumed. She noticed Helaena smiling happily as she danced with Jace. Aegon was drunkenly laughing with Luke who was smiling awkwardly, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else as Rhaena laughed on in his playful torment. 

Daemon sat next to his brother King, his smile soft as they spoke together intently. Her mother sat with Queen Alicent, the two of them deep in conversation, their hands finding each other as they descended into bouts of laughter like they were nothing more than two young girls again.

The sight made her happy. She knew her mother missed her old friend dearly and it looked as though Alicent had missed their friendship just as deeply. 

“Are you ready?” 

She turned on her heel to find Aemond, her husband, standing before her anxiously, his face a mask of anxious anticipation as he held his hand out to her. 

She swallowed and nodded stiffly, taking his hand as nerves as heavy as lead built within her. It was time for the bedding. Every happy thought in her head was gone in an instant as she suddenly could focus on nothing but the secret she kept from him. 

As he guided her out of the hall, her eyes met her mother, her face now serious, giving her a slow, knowing nod, reminding her to stay silent, to perform her duty and act as an untouched maiden. 

They walked in silence, the tension between them growing. 

They had been in a daze practically the entire day, their smiles shy yet glowing as they spoke their vows in the Sept, as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

Their true first kiss had been years ago when they were merely eight years old. She had kissed him after he had yet another unsuccessful bout in the dragon pit and had stolen a chaste kiss as she brushed the dirt from his cheeks. 

She had never seen him turn so red before. 

They were a long way from those innocent children they had been.

“Are you alright?” He asked, startling her out of her long lost thoughts. She looked at him and was surprisingly relieved to see he looked just as nervous as she was sure she looked. 

“I am.” She assured him with an awkward smile. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly, too quickly to portray any calmness about their current predicament. 

Their hearts were racing as they stepped inside their new marital chambers. She immediately moved to the vanity, working on removing the many pins from her hair that had been pinching her all night.

She sighed dramatically as the pressure on her skull was relieved and the sound of an amused hum, an almost sounding laugh, caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder to see Aemond watching her thoughtfully. 

The sight of him, the small upturn of his lips, the desire in his eye, should have stirred her own, but all she could feel was all consuming nerves. 

Tonight she’d have to lie to him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

His words startled her, her eyes widening slightly, not having expected the compliment. She smiled bashfully, trucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously as her gaze fell to the floor between them.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t told you that yet tonight. I haven’t told you since you’ve been back.” 

She was surprised by how forward he was, his words so sincere yet so different from the man she knew stood before her. 

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who longed for this marriage to be one of peace, to heal the wounds that had been so deeply ingrained in their family for so long. 

He approached her slowly, the look in his eye one she had never seen before. Desire. He reached out, his hand moving to her jaw, his touch light as he held her as if he were afraid she would flee. 

Her hands almost shook as she laid them across his strong chest, beginning to slowly undo the intricate buckles that covered him. 

He let her undo each one, the sound of his own heavy breath betraying his nerves. Once his chest laid bare before her did he finally pull her in close to him, his gaze locked on hers as he leaned in close before finally kissing her. 

He was soft, though as she responded to his kiss, he met her with fervor, portraying every ounce of pent up desire he’d unknowingly held for her for so long. He kissed her as if she were the very air he breathed. 

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, swirling with desire and agony as she desperately wished his lips had been the first she kissed so passionately, that his touch that tightened on her waist as he undid the laces on her gown, were the first hands to touch her so intimately. 

She couldn’t break herself from the thoughts as they moved to the bed. She couldn’t stop the heavy feeling of regret that tainted every one of his touches and fervent kisses. 

Her chest heaved, her guilt portraying as nerves for a perceived first bedding. Aemond ran his hands up the length of her thighs, his touch, which should have caused butterflies to fly rampant within her, only reminded her of the man who had touched her previously. 

He kissed her softly as he settled himself atop her. 

“I’m sorry… this- it might hurt you.”

The claw of guilt inside her turned into a fist that clenched tightly and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“It’s alright.” She breathed out.

He kissed her again though the gesture, filled with so much affection, did little to soothe her as he intended to. 

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, the guilt keeping her from looking at her husband, from seeing the eagerness in his gaze as he took her for the first time.

He eased inside of her slowly, the sound of his breath stuttering catching her attention, almost enough to incite her own arousal if her mind wasn’t tainted with worry, of suddenly being found out and ruined before she even got to enjoy her marriage.

With hatred for herself burning hotly within her she mimicked a sound of discomfort as he settled inside her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked slightly breathlessly, his gaze looking down at her in concern. 

She nodded stiffly, her throat tight as she met his eye. She soon wondered if the guilt would stop her breathing before he could even finish. 

She tried her best to forget about the glaring guilt, she tried not to think about her night with Ser Darick, of the man who touched her before that shouldn’t have. She should’ve been in ecstasy to finally be laying with the man she had dreamed of for years, but as he moved inside her, she couldn’t help but wince, her lack of arousal keeping her from enjoying what she had desired for so long. 

It at least helped with her charade of the innocent maiden who feared the marriage bed. 

She watched her husband with barely contained emotion as his eye closed in pleasure, his lips parted with heavy breaths, the sound of his quiet moans had her wishing she could go back in time and never invite that Knight into her bed. 

As she watched him find his pleasure, as he stuttered out her name in delight, she knew she could never hurt him. She could never reveal her secret for she could never cause him pain. 

Above her, Aemond stiffened, his hips losing momentum, his grip on her hips tightening as he lost himself to his pleasure, a loud grunt falling from his lips as he reached his peak. 

She exhaled loudly, an empty feeling settling within her, the guilt and anger at herself melding into self-loathing despair. 

“I hurt you.” He breathed out, sounding pained as his hand cradled her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. 

“I’m ok.” She assured her, though with how stilted her voice sounded, she knew he didn’t believe her. 

He pulled out of her slowly and moved to lay next to her, his worried gaze never leaving hers. He moved his hand to rest at the back of her neck, gently urging her forward so his forehead could rest against hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and she felt her eyes sting with more tears, his affection stirring the loathing that lashed her like a whip.

She shook her head and leaned into him, grasping onto his hand, holding tightly. 

“I wish we could have had this earlier.” She whispered, the only admittance she could allow herself. 

Aemond smiled softly and kissed her again, his touch gentle and careful, as if he worried about hurting her more. 

“So do I.” 

He held her as she struggled to sort out of her emotions, unaware of the torment within her. 

~~

By the next morning, she woke from a tumultuous sleep to find herself alone in bed. 

Her heart began to race as she propped herself up, dread coursing within her veins as she suddenly feared the worst. That, somehow in the night, Aemond had figured out the truth and left in a rage, leaving her behind before she could even enjoy what they could’ve had. 

“Good morning.”

The sound of his voice broke her out of her dark thoughts and she turned abruptly to see her new husband strolling in through the open balcony doors. He smiled lightly, looking slightly bashful to see her in such a vulnerable state, as if he hadn’t laid with her just hours before. 

“The maids brought breakfast.” 

She nodded and moved to peel the covers off her, hiding her wince at the flare of discomfort at the back of her thigh from where she had given herself a small cut after her husband had fallen asleep, using the small wound to stain the sheets with her blood that would not fall between her tainted legs. 

She stood from the bed, oblivious to how Aemond’s eye followed the length of her body with intrigue as she reached for her robe. They shared small smiles, the air of awkwardness lingering as they stepped out onto the balcony together. 

She immediately moved to pour herself a cup of tea, taking a much needed sip of the hot drink, praying it would soothe her frayed nerves. As Aemond took a seat next to her, she poured a second cup, adding a spoonful of honey before sliding it over to him. 

His gaze remained on her, as if in awe, as she took another sip. 

Feeling his eye on her, she turned, her brows raising in question at the beseeched expression on his face. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked slowly and he nodded, clearing his throat, leaning his elbow on his knee as his curled fist covered his lips, covering the smile that began to grow. 

“You remembered how I take my tea in the morning.” He spoke softly. 

She felt her stomach twist, this time for reasons completely different from the regret that had been staunchly drowning her since the night before. 

“Of course I did.” She said quietly with a shrug. “I wouldn’t forget anything about you.”

Her words, the knowledge that she had thought of him just as he had thought of her, had longed for him just as he had longed for her all those years they were separated, had a warmth spreading through him he had never felt before. 

Any trepidation he had about the marriage, any qualms he had about Rhaenyra taking her place on the throne, of his nephews back in King’s Landing, shattered in an instant. Everything else seemed so inconsequential to him now that he married her, now that he got to call her his wife. 

He reached out, slightly hesitantly, his heart racing as he placed his hand over hers. 

Their eyes met and it was as if an understanding passed between them, a final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

She nodded quickly and smiled as he leaned in. Their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss that was filled with quiet affection, the meeting of a new husband and wife who had just come to an understanding, who had put away years of complicated feelings and settled to live as the pair of childhood companions that felt nothing but love for each other.

As he kissed her, she forced herself to move past the pain in the back of her thigh. Under his assured yet gentle touch, she forced her guilt and regret to the depths of her mind, desperate to find peace with him. 

~~

Over the next couple of months, their marriage flourished in ways neither one of them had expected. Their time spent together had seemed to heal every slight from their childhood, leaving the both of them feeling lighter, no longer shrouded in the guise of hatred. 

It would take time for Aemond to come around to her brothers, but he was finding it easier to let go of the fury that used to permeate every thought of them. They were by no means friends, but it was at least becoming easier to simply look at them, to exist among them. 

One morning, as Rhaenyra and Alicent took their morning tea together in the gardens, they caught sight of the newly married couple, arm in arm, barely an inch of space between them. 

“They are quite the match.” Alicent remarked with a smile as she looked at her son, the easy expression on his face a far cry from the scowl that had become all too familiar from her second son. 

“They are.” Rhaenyra agreed, relief flowing through her as she heard her daughter’s laugh from across the yard, watching as she leaned into her husband. 

She was more than thankful her dear daughter’s secret remained. 

“I am sorry I took so long to agree to their union.” Alicent admitted almost shyly. “To see my Aemond as he is now, so carefree, so… unburdened with her. I regret that my hesitation caused him to suffer for longer than he needed to.”

Rhaenyra frowned and reached out, taking her friend’s hand, curling her fingers around her own. 

“There is nothing to forgive. They are happy now… we are happy now. That is what matters.”

Alicent smiled, her eyes filled with emotion she hadn’t let herself reveal for so long. She squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand in silent comfort. 

“I have heard the maids gossiping. It sounds as though it will not be long until there is a new babe to care for.” 

Rhaenyra’s jaw dropped, a scandalized laugh escaping her as she looked at her friend, usually so demure, in disbelief. 

“Oh gods, do not let them know they are being gossiped about.” 

Alicent giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“I would never. I do not think my son would ever return to court if that were the case.”

“They are late to every dinner. Surely they know it is not much of a secret what they are doing.” Rhaenyra commented, descending them both into laughter once more.

While the both of them laughed as though they were young girls again, the two of them couldn’t help but feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted from their shoulders, allowing them to breathe easier. 

The union between their children gave them what they needed, what they were desperately hoping for. The fact that their children were just as happy with each other was everything they needed to heal themselves. 

They soon lost sight of their children and, judging by the gossip they heard from the maids, they thought they preferred not knowing exactly what they were getting up to.  

It was for the better because the second Aemond had enough of the desire raging through his body, he had dragged his wife back to their chambers, only a mere hour after they had left it for the morning. 

He couldn’t get enough of her. 

He could barely get through his day without succumbing to his fire that burned hotly for her. Their walk in the garden, their duties for the rest of the day were long forgotten as he took her roughly atop her vanity, the wooden legs shaking beneath their passionate affair.

“Aemond!” She called out, her hands tightening at the back of his head where she had fistfulls of his hair. He groaned and quickened his pace, thrusting into her with the ferocity of an animal. 

Over their time together, she had been able to relax around him, thinking less and less of that horrible night with her guard that could have ruined everything. She allowed herself to fall into him, to let herself think of nothing but him, and she couldn’t have been more thankful.

He took her daily, their union fiercely passionate, the two of them quickly becoming insatiable for each other. 

“Fuck, darling, you are perfect.” Aemond growled, his hips never faltering in their harsh rhythm as he took her roughly. 

The way he took her now and had been for weeks was a far cry from the tepid and shy man she had seen on their wedding night. 

Cries fell from her lips as she desperately held him, her only tether in the haze of pleasure he now could so easily spiral her to. 

“Don’t stop.” She begged breathlessly, her head falling back to her shoulders, her eyes shut tightly as he fucked her so hard it was all she could do to hold and enjoy the ride. 

“Never, my love, I'll never stop.” He promised her, the desperation in his voice clear. He panted heavily as his hips moved with precision, eager to reach that spot he knew ruined her completely. 

He longed to see her unravel, he longed to hear her scream for him. It had quickly become the greatest thing he had ever been fortunate enough to witness and his greatest accomplishment. 

His grip on her hips tightened, his awed gaze fluttering over her form, eager to take in every inch of her. 

Her toes curled, a high pitched moan sounding as her body tensed, as she felt herself creeping up on the crest of blinding pleasure. 

“That’s it love, cum for me. Do it for me, I need it.” He rambled, his voice rough, causing shivers to race down her spine. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders and his answering grunt of pleasure undid her completely. She screamed his name, her hips jolting against his as she reached her peak. Aemond held her tightly, his arms moving around her back to hold him to her as his hips stuttered, becoming frantic in his final moments.

“Fuck… fuck!” He yelled as he felt her tighten around him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting sloppy kisses along the delicate slope before he felt the curling of hazy pleasure unfurl within him. 

His eye squeezed shut, his jaw fell slack as a breathless moan escaped him as he came. Small cries left him, his hips continuing to move, losing their intensity as he spilled inside her. 

Their shared heavy breaths echoed throughout the room as neither one of them moved an inch. He continued to hold her tightly, wrapped around her completely. He shivered against her as she began to caress the length of his back, her soft hands moving up and down gently, causing him to sigh in delight. 

After a few long moments, as they caught their breath, he pulled away, nudging his nose against hers, smirking lightly at the sight of her so thoroughly spent. He kissed her assuredly, his tongue tangling with hers, his touch still firm, as if he were still desperate for her. 

They parted with the need for air, soft smiles shared between the two, almost bashful, as if they hadn’t just fucked debauchedly as though they were in a brothel. He pulled out of her and began to clean the mess between her thighs, delighting in the way she’d twitch against his touches, thoroughly overstimulated from his hands. 

“Do you remember when you put jam in my hair?” He asked suddenly, causing her to look down at him with a raised brow in disbelief. 

“You are thinking about that now?”

The childhood memory was not forgotten but she certainly hadn’t been thinking of it after he had ravished her.

“With how you were just pulling on it, I’m beginning to think you have some kind of vendetta against my hair.” He remarked with a smirk as he pulled his breeches back up and grabbed his discarded doublet that she’d torn off him. 

She laughed and shook her head, her eyes trailing his every move, pouting almost reflexively as he dressed himself, covering up that beautiful body from her eager gaze. 

“It is beautiful. Perhaps I am trying to sabotage you out of jealousy.” She smiled coyly.

“Jealousy?” He echoed in disbelief. “Darling, you are the most stunning woman in the realm, you have little to be jealous of.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she half-heartedly rolled her eyes. Since they had become more comfortable with each other, his compliments had been never ending, never failing to make her swoon each and every time. 

“So, same time tomorrow?” She joked, to which he snorted and looked over at her, nothing but adoration in his eye. 

He stepped toward her again, pulling the fallen sleeve of her dress back in place.

“Oh, darling, I will have you again tonight, surely.” He drawled, reveling in the way she seemed to shiver against him, already eagerly anticipating the night and agonizing over the hours between. 

He kissed her again and leaned his forehead against hers, as if he needed a moment longer with her before parting from her side. 

“I will find you once I am finished.” He assured her. 

As he left her to continue with his duties for the day he had steadily been ignoring, she finished cleaning herself up and fixing her disheveled hair. 

Her smile remained as she righted her dress, her legs trembling slightly as she made slow steps across their chambers. She just knew Baela would be dragging their salacious actions out of her the second she saw her. 

The giddy feeling within her crumbled into dust the moment she opened the door and came face to face with the one person she was content to never see again.

Her face fell, a look of horror overtaking her features.

“Ser Darick.” 

Her voice shook as she greeted him, which seemed to only deepen his smug grin. 

“Princess.” He bowed dutifully. “It has been too long.”

The sarcasm that laced his words cut her deeply and she averted her gaze, her heart racing wildly. The memories of that fateful night, the guilt that she had been able to push into the depths of her mind resurfaced with the force of a punch, almost enough to knock her off her feet.

She didn’t spare the man another look as she took off down the hall, her face crumbling into a deep frown as frustrated tears filled her eyes.

He would ruin everything.

~~

Her hand was clutched to her mother’s, her retelling of the day striking a need for her motherly touch. 

“I will take care of it.”

“How?”

“I will find a way.”

She remained silent, her face twisted with fear and disgust.

“What if he knows?”

“He doesn’t.”

“You cannot know that. Why would he be reassigned to me? Surely this is some plot to ruin me.” She rambled, her worried mind not allowing her to think straight. 

“The guards are spread thin here. We needed more help so guards from Dragonstone were requested here, but I… I had no idea he would be assigned to you.”

She sighed heavily, her mother’s words doing little to reassure her.

“I can’t keep lying to him.”

“Darling-”

“I love him and I can’t stand the fact that our marriage is built on a lie.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw, her teeth pulling her bottom lip tightly. Before she could even attempt to soothe her daughter the door opened and Daemon stepped into their shared chambers. 

Both women tensed, sitting up straighter in their seats at his unexpected arrival. 

His eyes flitted between both women curiously, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, my love.”

His wife’s words did little to soothe the awkward energy in the room.

“What are you two discussing?”

“Guard rotations.” 

Daemon looked at his step-daughter with narrowed eyes, the topic one he had not expected. His instincts were telling him something was wrong, that he was being lied to. 

“Is someone not to your liking?”

“Ser Darick has been assigned as her guard and we hoped we could find someone else for her.”

“Why?”

“No specific reason-” Rhaenyra attempted to diffuse the situation, but he had seen right through it, he knew something was amiss.

“I don’t understand. Ser Darick was your guard for years, he was loyally by your side, he watched over you, he cared for-”

Daemon’s sentence stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly realized the double meaning in his words. His eyes narrowed, the angry fire burning within him so hotly she had to turn away from his gaze. He looked to his wife, as if needing confirmation to the thought burning in his brain.

When Rhaenyra sighed disappointedly, her gaze moving away from his, he felt as though he had the answer to the horrible explanation he had conjured.

Within a second he unsheathed his sword, causing his daughter to flinch and Rhaenyra to get to her feet. 

“Daemon-”

“Where is he?”

“You need to calm down-”

“I will strike every limb from his body and string him-”

“Please stop!” She yelled, stopping her father’s detailed description of the torture he would inflict on the man he believed to have committed an egregious crime.

“You cannot seriously be protecting the man that took advantage of you. He touched you, he raped you! He should be fed to our dragons!”

“He didn’t rape me!” 

Daemon remained quiet, taking in her words slowly. His face twisted, an expression of confusion soon morphing into dread and she shifted in her seat under his intense glare.

“You didn’t.” He spat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Daemon, please.”

“You let that guard into your bed?”

She leaned her elbows on her knees, her head falling into her hands as she breathed heavily, embarrassment washing over her like a tidal wave that threatened to drown her. She would surely welcome it. 

“It was a mistake.” Rhaenyra chimed in, trying to ease the fury in her husband. 

“Of course it was a fucking mistake.” Daemon bellowed. “How could you be so simple minded?”

She raised her head, staring plainly at the man before her. She’d heard about his tales before he had married her mother, the Prince of Flea Bottom, the many times he had been banished by the King and he had the audacity to shame her about who she bedded.

“Your hypocrisy is astounding.” 

“Don’t be cute.” Daemon scolded. He tightened his grip on his sword, his anger still burning. “I’m still going to kill him.”

“You are going to do no such thing. Rumors will spread if a guard mysteriously winds up murdered. We will solve this quietly and reassign him so he will never lay his eyes on you again and you will never tell a soul about what happened that night.” Rhaenyra countered, her eyes locked onto her daughter sternly.

She could only nod, the guilt she’d steadily buried in the face of her happiness, in the bliss she’d found with Aemond, now clawing its way forward, threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.

~~

“There you are.” Aemond greeted her with a smile, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Their chambers had been empty when he returned from training and he knew the first place to look for her was Helaena’s chambers. 

Her heart skipped as she saw him, her mind racing, screaming at her to blurt out her secret, to spill everything that was weighing heavily on her, darkening her soul, but she found no words could escape her. 

She smiled stiffly, forcefully pushing past the overwhelming regret and sadness that threatened to choke her. 

“Are you finished with your training?”

He nodded as he took a seat next to her, his soft smile directed to the children who played at his feet. 

“I am and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of my wife’s company.” 

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but we were just about to leave.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“We are going to the markets in Flea Bottom.” Helaena answered happily, oblivious to the way her brother’s expression darkened at her words. 

Aemond looked to her desperately, as if pleading with her to tell him his sister was mistaken, that she wasn’t going to roam the dangerous streets of Flea Bottom. 

She sighed, taking his hand in hers.

“She wishes to find gifts for the twins’ name day.” She spoke softly so the children would not hear. 

“Send servants.”

“She wants to pick them out herself.”

Aemond exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He startled when his wife stood from the couch and he reached out for her hand, but she was already walking away. 

“Come with us brother.” Helaena offered, oblivious to the torment unfurling in her protective sibling. “We will be taking guards, but we will be more protected with you at our side.” 

She smiled widely and linked her arm through Helaena’s, looking to her faithful husband.

“Well, you heard her.”

Aemond let out a long sigh, the thought of his beloved and his dear sister venturing down the dangerous streets of King’s Landing loathsome, but with one look at his wife’s stare, he was powerless to refuse her wishes. 

“Just for a short visit.”

The wide smile she gave in return was all he needed to stop himself from refusing the offer. 

He followed behind the two women, their group of guards walking behind him faithfully as they made their way into the city. 

Aemond kept his eyes fleeting between his sweet sister and his beloved wife as they perused each vendor they passed. He admired his wife as her face lit up at the sight of a beautiful trinket that had caught her eye. He admired the way she smiled at each vendor, politely asking them questions, dignifying their compliments about her beauty and kindness. 

She was truly a marvel, the most beautiful sight to behold. 

“Aemond, look, isn’t this beautiful?” Helaena called out to him, breaking him from his trance as she held up a butterfly figurine. “I think Jaehaera will find this absolutely divine, she’s always admiring the butterflies in the garden.”

“She will love it.” He assured her with a small smile, following her as the ever protective brother he was as they ventured to the next vendor, caught up with another bout of glasswork she had found. 

He felt as though he had only taken his eyes off his wife for a minute when the yelling started. A fight had broken out between two vendors and the crowd around them had responded to the sudden surge of violence with equal measure.

His arm immediately went around Helaena who cowered and covered her ears as the crowd yelled and became insufferably loud. He briefly made eye contact with a man in the crowd, the lowborn recognizing the pair of royals before him and, as most disparities of power result, decided to direct his anger towards them. 

Aemond guided Helaena into the capable hands of her guard as he unsheathed his sword menacingly, warning the crowd not to try their luck with the famed one-eyed dragon prince. 

The crowd soon became raucous, screaming, shouting and pushing at anyone they could get their hands onto. 

Aemond quickly spotted his sister being scurried away from the action, though his stomach dropped when he could not spot his wife. 

He yelled her name, the sound lost in the chaos of the riotous crowd. He pushed people out of the way carelessly, elbowing his way back to where he had last seen her. His heart dropped at the sight of her absence. He became more desperate, his voice sounding weak as he stood atop a vendor’s booth, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

The longer he did not see her, the more fear encased every inch of him.

~~

A muffled scream left her as a sturdy hand latched over her mouth, a strong arm wrapped around her waist as she was carried away from the action of the riots ensuing in the streets of King’s Landing. 

She hadn’t seen Helaena or Aemond. As soon as the fighting started she had been dragged away, seemingly against her will. She had thought it was a member of the King’s Guard but as the hand stayed steadily over her mouth and the painful arm carrying her through the streets of Flea Bottom refused to recede, she became more and more fearful of who had latched onto her.

The grip on her slackened and she quickly pushed her way out of the grip, her expression a mask of derision as she faced who had manhandled her so roughly. Her face fell, an icy feeling of dread spreading through her veins as she met the gaze of Ser Darick. 

He sneered and gripped her arm again, pulling her into his side. 

“Stop struggling, Princess, we don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He warned, though it sounded more like a threat as he pulled her along with him back to the Red Keep.

She remained still, allowing him to drag her forward, her face passive as they made their way through the halls of the Keep. She felt equal parts relief and dread as he forced her into her chambers. 

He slammed the door shut behind them, his face dark with anger, his hand still sturdily gripping her arm.

“You have brought me back, now leave.” She ordered harshly as she wrenched her arm out of his grip.

“Not until we talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“You invited me into your bed, let me fuck you and then ignored me. I deserve to know why.” He argued angrily. Her face twisted with derision, at the reminder of that night she had acted so carelessly.

“I am truly sorry for how I treated you, it was wrong of me to take such liberties. But the night we had was simply a night of desperation. I am married now. I love my husband and you need to move on.” 

He scoffed, looking at her with nothing but derision.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What?”

“That night. It didn’t mean nothing to you. It couldn’t have.” 

He stepped towards her, forcing her to take frantic steps backwards, but he was quicker. He gripped onto her shoulders, his touch strong and harsh. 

“Let go of me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing, the beginnings of dread seeping through her, chilling the blood that ran through her veins. 

“I know you felt something that night. No one could fake that passion. I know you feel something for me. I know you have for years.” 

Her eyes widened, staring back at the man completely dumbfounded as she squirmed under his hands.

“You have gone mad.”

“I gave you pleasure that night, Princess. I made you cum under me. I made you moan for me.” He spoke earnestly, making her wince and shake her head, desperately trying to pry his hands off her.

“It meant nothing.”

“Of course it did!” 

“Get off!” She yelled as she pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble a few paces back. 

The door suddenly slammed open, her breathless and worried husband storming into their chambers. He seemed to deflate in relief when he saw her, every ounce of fear dissipating in a second, though when he noticed the guard in their chambers, his expression twisted into confusion.

“Are you hurt?” He asked worriedly, stepping towards her hurriedly, assuming she had been injured in the fight and that was the reason the guard was in the room with her alone. 

“No, I’m fine.” She assured him, her voice quivering. 

He grabbed her trembling hands in his, looking over her in concern briefly before his untrusting eye turned towards the guard who couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

The anger in his gaze did not go unnoticed by Aemond who stiffened, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip instinctively. 

The guard smiled sardonically to his wife, the sight setting the blood in his veins on fire. 

“Princess.” He bowed and turned on his heel, leaving the room. The fact that he did not address Aemond only angered him further. 

“Who was that?” Aemond questioned the second the door closed behind him. 

“He was my guard at Dragonstone.” She answered monotonously, her chest aching in fear as her waking nightmare unfurled before her.

“Did he hurt you?” Aemond’s anger flared as he looked at her questioningly, his gaze searching her frantically for any indication that her guard had stepped out of place. 

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” She spoke quietly, omitting mentioning the bruises she was sure would be blooming on her arm from his harsh grip.

He stared at her quizzically, knowing deep within him that something was wrong. The look on her face, one of muted horror, was striking and the fact that she couldn’t meet his eye had worry stirring within him so strongly his hand twitched towards his sword once again, ready to strike down the mysterious guard at her command. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I-”

“Yes, you’ve said that, but I do not believe you.” He interrupted, fighting between his confusion and his worry as she flinched at his harsh tone. He wanted to reach out to her, but something held him back, something he didn’t quite understand. 

She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned away from him. He called her name slowly, his critical eye never leaving her. 

“Who is he?”

“He is no one.”

His heart raced and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as a multitude of answers swirled through his mind, none of them bringing any kind of peace.

“Do you love him?” He asked abruptly, jumping to the worst conclusion he could have possibly conjured.

“No, of course not!” She yelled, perturbed by the mere question. 

“Then why does he look at you as if you have a history?”

“I swear to you, Aemond, he is nothing to me.”

“So nothing has happened between you two?”

She remained quiet, her mind racing with a million different answers to the question, most lies, but only one truth, the one that spoke the loudest.

Her silence rang loud in the room and Aemond’s face shifted instantly, first to shock, then disbelief, then betrayal, and finally to fury. 

“You… you and him…” He startled slowly, trying to find the words to explain the blinding anger that overtook him so greatly it soon became hard to breathe.

The images that his mind created, visions of her tangled in the sheets with that man, her soft touch on his body, her sweet moans he relished given to him. 

“Aemond-”

“You fucked him?”

“Please-”

“Answer me. Did you fuck him?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her world was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

“Yes.” She breathed out weakly.

A bitter laugh left him, a sound filled with so much anger it made her wince, tears beginning to burn in her eyes. 

“Aemond, please, I can explain-” She began as she approached him, reaching out for his hand, but he yanked his arm away from her, staring back at her with such vitriol it was as if a dagger had been lodged in her chest.

“Explain what? That you have been lying to me this entire time? That I married a whore?” 

Her eyes widened, his words striking her harshly. She had seen him angry before, she had seen him vindictive before, but it had never been directed at her, he had never spoken to her with such hatred, as if he were eager to hurt her. 

“It was before our marriage. I have never even looked at another man since I knew you were to be my husband.”

He shook his head, his chest heaving, an ache settling deep within him. Jealousy tore through him roughly, all he could think of was her tangled passionately with another man, and it made him see red. 

She reached for him again and he shut her down with a vicious scowl. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

She breathed heavily, her own anger beginning to rise at his stubborn refusal to listen to her. She knew if he ever found out it would cause a rift, but she had thought after the time they had spent together, that what they shared would be too special to let a mistake from the past rupture the beautiful love they had carved for themselves.

“Are you serious?” She snapped, her patience wearing thin the longer he directed his fury towards her. 

She thought of Daemon’s reaction, of Aemond’s disgusted scowl, and it made her seethe. If she had been a man no one would be batting an eye and she wanted to scream at how entirely unfair life was simply because of what lay between her legs.

“I had one night and I am penalized but you can do whatever you want with your body and I am just supposed to accept it. As if you haven’t followed Aegon to the brothels.”

“I am not my brother!” He yelled fiercely, his overt anger making her flinch. 

She stayed quiet, her anger receding as quick as it had come, leaving her with nothing but guilt. She knew she had crossed a line. 

Anybody could see how different the Targaryen brothers were, how much more accustomed to duty and honor Aemond was, how he refused to defile himself and shame his family as Aegon continued to do. 

It was deadly silent between them, neither one of them with anything productive or relatively polite to say to the other. 

With a clenched jaw, Aemond stormed out of the room without sparing her a look. 

His breath left him in uneven pants as he stormed down the hall, unaware of where he was headed. 

Images of her, his sweet wife, his beloved, wrapped up in another man’s arms replayed in his head torturously. He felt his eye sting with emotion he desperately attempted to hold at bay. 

He loved his wife, but this was agony. 

He loved her, but she had lied to him. 

He didn’t know what to make sense of the situation. He didn’t even know what to make sense of what he was feeling. 

He was at a loss as to what his marriage held. 

The only thing he could make out in the whirlwind of thoughts was pain. 

~~

He avoided her for the rest of the day and the next, choosing to sleep in his old chambers instead of returning to her. 

He couldn’t bear to face her, not after what he had yelled at her so callously, not after he had called her a whore, not after he had spent hours picturing her with that guard. 

It was agonizing to think of. 

He avoided dinner, giving flimsy excuses to the maids that dared to approach him. 

He sat out on the balcony of his old chambers, gazing out sightlessly into the night before him. The sound of his chamber doors opening had him rolling his eye, looking over his shoulder at the intruder with a scowl.

Aegon gave him an annoyed look. 

“You know you have mother worried sick? She sent me to find you, you twat.”

Aemond remained quiet as he turned to look back out onto the horizon. 

“What are you doing out here?” Aegon asked as he took a seat at his side, causing him to sigh loudly, not bothering to hide his disdain for his presence. “I figured you would be busy fucking your wife. You seem to do little else lately.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he steadily refused to meet his brother’s eyes.

“What? Has your paradise been ruined already?” Aegon joked, though when he received no reaction from Aemond, not even anger, he knew something was truly wrong. “What happened?” He asked, sounding more sincere than even he expected.

Aemond remained quiet for a long moment, dreading to say the words aloud, as if it made them more real than they already were. 

“She had a dalliance with a guard.”

“She has been unfaithful?”

“It was before she came back to King’s Landing, before the wedding.” He mumbled.

Aegon was quiet for a few seconds as he took in his brother’s words and eventually shrugged nonchalantly. 

“So?” 

Aemond glared coldly at his brother, the flippant response sparking his fury once more. 

“Finding out your wife let another man into her bed isn’t exactly comforting news.”

“It happened before she was your wife and, judging by how infatuated she seems with you, I’m willing to bet it happened before she knew you were the one she was to marry.” 

Aemond sighed loudly, no matter the circumstances, no matter whatever explanation he could think of, it did nothing to quell the green eyed beast that took over him. He had grown to deeply love his wife, the girl he had latched onto in childhood, the only one who seemed to root for him. 

The thought of her in the clutches of lust with anyone that wasn’t him was enough to incite his anger. 

He had never had a passionate, loving embrace. He certainly didn’t count what he endured on his thirteenth nameday, the moment that brought him nothing but shame. To think that she could so easily bring someone into her bed, have someone touch her lovingly, bring her pleasure, just as he could to her, stirred a fury in him he could barely comprehend.

“So, she betrayed you, what happens next?” Aegon asked, a smarmy smirk growing on his lips, striking Aemond’s anger before he could even speak of the depravities that mingled in his mind. “How about I take you down to the Silk Street and you can get back at her.”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, his face drawn tightly with fury, his angry glare locked onto his brother who laughed raucously at his reaction.

“Easy!” He yelled, shoving his brother’s hands off of him that gripped his shirt, ready to throttle him. “Gods, you have no sense of humor.”

“You know you don’t have to be here.” Aemond growled, sending his brother a final fierce scowl that silently threatened him of saying anything untoward about his marriage, before settling himself back in his seat. 

Aegon watched his brother carefully, noting the agony within him and he sighed.

“Look, you clearly care about her. She is your wife and you two have been able to build a bond which is more than many can say.”

Aemond looked at him, surprised by his honest words, surprised that he wasn’t slurring as he spoke. 

“Are you willing to give that up for a mistake she made before you loved each other?”

He looked taken aback at the question. The mere thought of letting her go was unfathomable. The thought was so horrible it turned his stomach more than his jealousy ever could. 

“I cannot stop picturing her with him.” He admitted quietly, almost shamefully. 

Aegon sighed, while he didn’t have anyone he loved as Aemond loved his wife, he had to admit, it didn't sound easy to picture the woman you loved in the arms of another man.

“So, let’s say you give up, what then? She marries someone else and warms their bed instead?” 

Aemond grit his teeth and sent a wicked glare to his brother who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Just think about it, brother. Get over it or let her go.” Aegon stated bluntly before parting from his side, leaving him to bury his head in his hands, a long slow breath falling past his lips. 

He didn’t want to let her go, he didn’t want to end what they had, he didn’t want to lose her. 

He breathed deeply again, forcing the green-eyed monster within him to retreat, to let him think clearly for once. 

He pictured her face, her teary eyes as she stared at him in disbelief as he threw horrible insults her way. He winced, his eye squeezing shut, as if the memory itself hurt him physically. 

He had to make this right. 

~~

He stepped into their shared chambers, his body rigid with nervous anticipation. He startled slightly as the sight of her was suddenly blocked, Baela having immediately got to her feet at the sight of him, standing in front of her half-sister protectively. 

“What do you think you’re doing here?” 

Aemond rolled his eye, sending a glare to the stubborn woman. 

“These are my chambers.” 

“Are they now? They haven’t seemed to be yours the past few days.” Baela responded sarcastically, forcing him to hold back a wince at the reminder of how he’d left his wife alone and worried for days on end in his fit of anger and jealousy.

He looked past Baela to find her looking back at him worriedly, wondering if this was the moment he left for good. The sight pained him deeply and he sighed heavily.

“I came here to talk.” He spoke softly, looking past her human shield, trying to appeal to his kind wife. 

“I think you’ve said plenty.” 

“Baela, it’s ok.” She said softly, hoping to stop her half-sister before she ended up in a physical fight with her husband. With how angry Baela had been on her behalf she knew it was certainly a possibility. 

Baela looked back at her questioningly, to which she nodded, silently assuring her she would be ok. 

With a sour expression, Baela left her side, her glare darkening as she passed the one eyed prince.

“If I see any more tears fall from her eyes, not even Vhagar will save you from me.” She threatened before stepping out of their chambers. 

Aemond let out a long breath. The sight of his wife upset cut him deeply, he knew he would let Baela inflict whatever pain she wanted on him if he hurt her any more. 

He looked at her, subtly wincing as he noticed she was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze. He moved forward slowly, never taking his eye off her as he approached. He sat on the opposite couch, making sure to leave space between them.

He didn’t think she’d be comfortable with anything else and he didn’t think he deserved to be so close to her, not after what he had said to her just days ago. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve my words.” He started quietly. 

She remained quiet, her gaze yet to meet his. The longer she didn’t look at him, the quicker his heart raced.

“I want to understand. I know you have no feelings for this man, but… it may kill me, but I want to know what happened between you two.”

“Why would that change things?” She asked stiffly.

“What?”

“You know I have no love for this man, you know I only care for you. So what more do you need to know?”

Aemond swallowed against the lump that grew in his throat. Aegon’s words came back to him, that her dalliance could have happened before she even knew they were to be married. 

“I need to know that I wasn’t the cause of this.”

She turned to him fully, her brows furrowed as she looked at him in bewilderment. She was sure a piece of her heart had shattered. He thought she had chosen to jump into bed with a guard because the news of her marriage to him was so horrible she was desperate to seek comfort. 

She let out a shaking breath and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. 

“Do you remember Lady Eleanor?”

Aemond looked confused for a moment at the sudden turn in conversation, but took a moment to think deeply before nodding. 

“She was your friend when we were children.” He answered softly. “I remember I could scarcely find any time with you without her presence.”

She smiled at the onslaught of memories that rushed through her mind, all hazed in the happiness of childhood innocence, though she was quick to be reminded of the grief that rose at the mere thought of her old friend. 

“She was married off to a Tully Lord. The man was older than her father. His past three wives all died mysteriously, no one dared to question why.” She explained stiffly. “I could tell from her letters that she wasn’t happy.”

Aemond watched her, frowning slightly at the dull tone of her voice, of the tortured look in her eyes, as if she was recounting something too painful to ever speak of again. He sat up straighter, longing to reach out to her, but he held back, suddenly reminding himself of the rift between them. 

“She birthed him a daughter, just as his previous wives had. The next day they found her body by the river.” She spoke quietly, her voice growing hoarse with emotion. “They could barely recognize her, she was black and blue, every bone broken by his hands.”

Aemond shifted in his seat, an unsettled feeling growing within him. He remembered the annoying little girl who followed his niece around and now felt nothing but horror at the memory of her. 

“Her husband faced no punishment. No one dared to question why yet another young girl was dead. I don’t even know what happened to the babe, if she-” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish the thought. 

Her vision blurred with tears which only began to steadily slip down her cheeks as she felt his hand take hers, their fingers intertwining. 

“His name was in consideration for my hand in marriage.” She admitted, finally bringing her gaze to reach her husband’s, immediately noticing the dread that shrouded him.

Despite the fact that they were married and had been for months, the mere prospect of her being forced into marriage with a man so barbaric left him feeling sick. 

She let out a shaking breath, pulling her hand from his as she wiped her tears furiously, forcing her expression into a mask of indifference, refusing to show him her weakness. 

“I’m sure that changes nothing for you, but I figured you should know.” She spoke hoarsely. “My night with Ser Darick meant nothing. I had no idea you were my betrothed. I thought I’d have one more night for myself before I was forced to be a silent, battered wife who would wind up dead in a matter of months.”

Aemond exhaled shakily, his gaze watching her curiously. Her sadness cut him deeply and while he could never understand the fear she felt, the fear almost every woman in the realm faced at the prospect of marriage, he couldn’t help but ache for her, for what she feared. 

The thought of her so scared, resigning herself to be abused, forced into a marriage with a man that would treat her horribly, had his hands clenching into fists, forcing back the desire to draw blood from men that weren’t even present.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, her teary eyes finally meeting his, causing the lump in his throat to swell.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I do. I betrayed you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I acted as nothing more than a lowly street whore.” 

Aemond clenched his jaw, a flash of pain striking him deeply. His previous words he had thrown at her in anger caught up to him, hurting him as if they had been directed at himself. The guilt that overcame him was overpowering, enough to knock him off kilter, enough to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t mean it.” He told her, his voice weak, portraying his pain.

“You said it.” 

His chest ached yet again at the sadness in her voice, her teary eyed gaze hurting him like a sword to the heart. 

“I was angry and I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I let my jealousy rule me.” He explained to her, reaching out to take her hand in his again. “But you mean more to me than my anger, you mean more to me than a single mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed, derision crossing her features, as if she didn’t believe him, as if his forgiveness was too good to be true. As she shook her head, he felt his heart crack yet again. 

“You’ve forced yourself to feel nothing but derision for me for years, I’m sure you can do it again.” She spoke tersely, her eyes betraying her hurt as they brimmed with tears. “I’ll tell my mother we wish for an annulment.”

“Stop.” He demanded angrily, looking at her with barely contained hurt.

“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.”

“Love, please-”

“You can be married to a pure maiden within the next moon.”

“Stop!” He yelled, finally cutting off her frantic rambles. She looked at him with wide, tearful eyes, the sight causing his chest to hurt in ways he couldn’t even fathom. 

He breathed heavily for a moment, allowing his anger to fade. 

“I won’t let you end this. I care about you too much to let you go.” 

Her heart jumped at his words, her emotions beginning to stir once again. She let out a trembling breath, a glaringly bitter thought in her head she couldn’t move past from.

“Please, do not hate me for asking…” She started quietly, swallowing thickly as she looked to him hesitantly “Do you forgive me because you wish for power? Because you will one day be consort, because your heir will sit the throne?”

Aemond tensed, his gaze full of bewilderment. He had to admit, maybe in the beginning, the prospect of being consort enticed him, but now, it wasn’t even a thought in his head.

It hadn’t been since the moment she stepped out of that carriage and their eyes met for the first time in years. 

“I forgive you because I love you.” Aemond answered, as if it was the most simple explanation he could have given. 

Her breath caught in her throat, completely taken aback by his admission, one he gave freely, the genuine look in his eye making her crumble within. 

“You love me?” She choked out and he smiled sadly, the sight of her reluctance to believe it causing the ache in his chest to throb once more. He moved to sit closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I have loved you for a long time. Much longer than I would like to admit.” He spoke with a soft laugh. “The things you did for me in our childhood…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes it felt like you were the only one who cared.”

She frowned, her hand holding his tightly, her heart aching to hear him so vulnerable.

“I could never turn my back on you. I could never let you walk away from our marriage, not for anything.” 

He was more than surprised when her lips descended on his with a fierce kiss, one that was filled with hunger, longing, and relief. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, responding to her kiss with equal fervor, moaning against her as her hands winded through his hair, the gesture so intimate, so familiar to their last months together. 

They pulled away, breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She whispered, sounding pained, as if she would have to repent for his forgiveness for the rest of her life. 

He shook his head and held her tighter. He leaned his forehead against hers, swallowing thickly against the small ounce of doubt that creeped within him.

“He truly means nothing to you?”

She seemed pained by his question, her expression twisting as she placed her hand against his cheek as she looked at him with reverence. 

“He is nothing to me. I have not had a single thought of him since I’ve loved you.” 

He perked up, his wide eye searching hers, as if looking for any sign of dishonesty. But he found none. 

He wouldn’t, for she loved him just as he loved her. 

He crashed his lips to hers, his hands holding her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, eager to place his touch upon her and equally as eager for her greedy hands to bestow their pleasure upon him. 

He preened under her gentle caresses, her hardened tugs at his hair, her eager hips that grinded against his. He longed for everything she was willing to give him. 

He could feel the jealousy that had blinded him, that green-eyed monster that threatened to ruin it all, fade to nothing while he was in her arms. 

He would not let a single mistake tear apart what they had, what had been growing since their childhood. 

He loved her and she loved him. 

It was all he needed.

~~

They mended back together with ease. With Ser Darick transferred, no longer a glaring reminder of her indiscretion, they were able to put the incident past them. 

Her brothers questioned what had happened, why there seemed to be a rift in her marriage then, as quickly as it had come, disappeared as she and her husband soon proved themselves as a united front, more infatuated with each other than ever. 

She didn’t give them any answers. She only assured them she was happy, that Aemond treated her well and that their marriage was a success. 

They were back to the blissful, wonderstruck and obsessed couple they had been before her secret had been revealed. 

Until the dinner for the King’s nameday. 

Her arm was locked with her husband’s as they stepped into the dining hall, their smiles mirroring each other as they spoke quietly. 

Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks, his body becoming stiff as stone. She looked up at him, her smile falling at the sight of the murderous rage in his eye. 

She followed his gaze and paled instantly, her stomach twisting with fear as she found Ser Darick’s smirking face staring back at her. She swallowed against the lump that grew in her throat and held tighter to Aemond’s arm. 

“Let’s sit.” She spoke quietly, having to basically drag him along with her to take their seats at the table. 

Aemond’s glare remained on the man as he took his seat, his eye cold and unflinching. His wife had told him about that day the guard confronted her, explaining his strange possessiveness, the harsh way he held her. 

He wanted to kill the guard the second he saw the bruises on her arms, but she held onto him tightly, begging him not to leave her alone, begging him to drop the matter completely. 

She so desperately wanted to forget the entire thing and she knew if Aemond killed him, it would invite questions she dreaded to answer. 

The fury he felt at the sight of her bruises, at how scared she had been because of that guard, hadn’t left him. He had kissed every mark on her body, though it did little to soothe the storm inside of him, the desire to draw blood from the man that dared to hurt her. 

His fingers tapped erratically atop the table, his deadly scowl never wavering from the man who smugly smirked back at him, inciting his rage. 

Her hand covered his, startling him out of his haze of anger. He looked over at her and she gave him a weak smile, her eyes pleading with him to not act on his anger. There was a look of regret in her gaze, as her guilt returned tenfold, as if she were the one angering him. 

The sight tore his anger away in an instant and he intertwined their fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly, silently assuring her, promising her he wasn’t upset with her, that her guilt was for naught. 

“I love you.” She mouthed to him, wanting to remind him in the face of her dreaded mistake and he smiled, mouthing the words back to her. 

The days they had spent together over the past weeks were enough to heal him of the fierce jealousy that had wracked him at the news of her night with her guard. She had spent night after night worshiping him, bestowing pleasure upon him that left his mind spinning, proving to him over and over again that he was the only one she wanted, he was the only one she had eyes for, and he was the only one she would pleasure so intently. 

Their thoughts of that damned guard were gone swiftly as the King was carried into the room, the sight of his decaying and weak body stealing their attention completely. 

King Viserys smiled, a sad yet relieved looking gesture as he looked at the table full of his family, smiling faces around him, easy conversation flowing, no sight of derision or hatred he had seen just months ago that had broken his heart. 

He raised his cup of wine with a shaking hand. 

“A toast to my family.” He began with a hoarse voice. “To my daughter, Rhaenyra, who will make a fine Queen. And to my dear grandchild.”

She perked up at the sound of her name, seemingly growing bashful under the King’s eye. 

“My beautiful darling and my dear son. May your union be fruitful and prosper with a love the realm has not yet seen.” Viserys toasted them with a warm smile. “My dear you will make a wonderful Queen after your mother. You will be a fair, peaceful ruler and a wonderful mother when the time comes.”

A bitter scoff echoed through the room, causing everyone to tense, their gazes searching over the faces of those present to find the culprit. 

Her throat went dry, embarrassment washing over her as she noticed Ser Darick rolling his eyes. Beside her, Aemond stiffened, the murderous glare glinting in his eye once again. He gripped the arms of the chair he sat on, mere seconds away from getting to his feet to beat the guard into oblivion. 

“Is there a problem, Ser?” The King questioned, looking at the guard incredulously. 

Ser Darick didn’t even seem intimidated to have the attention of the most powerful man in Westeros. He seemed to preen under all their gazes, straightening his shoulders as if he were of importance. 

“Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace.” The guard began, his sickly sweet smile never wavering as his eyes landed back on the culprit of his anger, the shaken girl who seemed to shrink under his harsh gaze. 

Aemond clenched his jaw, his hand twitching, desperate to reach for the dagger at his hip.

“You are kind to dole out praises to a whore.” 

Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Viserys’ face darkened and he struggled to get to his feet, his voice hoarse as he called for his guards to seize Ser Darick. 

Daemon sprung to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way, his expression dark and full of hatred as he approached the dead man walking, swiftly pulling the sword from his hip. 

But it was Aemond that acted quickest. 

He ignored his wife’s warning as he got to his feet with agile precision, his steps heavy as he marched his way toward the guard. He pulled the dagger from his belt, his teeth grit as he stared the man down with nothing but pure hatred. 

With a swift kick to Ser Darick's hand, Aemond disarmed him before he could pull his sword. Aemond gripped the front of his armor, dragging him forward harshly and swiftly plunged his dagger into the man’s neck without hesitation. 

Gasps and screams sounded behind him at the violent display, but he paid no mind to it. 

He watched with satisfaction as the man’s eyes went dull, the life leaving him slowly as he bled out, finally erasing the smug smile from his face. 

He eased his grip, letting him drop to the floor. 

He turned, coming face to face with Daemon, who had his sword drawn and at the ready. His uncle eyed the dead guard at their feet, with slight disdain for the mere fact that he hadn’t been the one to end his life, before slowly raising his gaze to him, staring at him for a long moment before nodding, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. 

Aemond nodded back, a dark and twisted respect blooming between them in that moment. 

He turned, ignoring the chaos that continued as his family watched on in horror and confusion, a mix of questions, admonishments him for his brashness, praises for his actions, but he heard none of it.

He stepped towards his trembling wife and quickly guided her into his arms, holding her tightly. 

Her eyes were wide, shocked by the violent display, though she couldn’t deny the immediate relief that coursed through her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered shakily.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her, his silent promise to always protect her. 

~~

Hope you enjoy and sorry it's so long, I can't stop myself xx