The Impossible Choice (52)
[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, mention of rape, incest ]
[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next chapters: Masterlist
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Helaena had always known that she was a little different from everyone else – it seemed to her as if she saw the world through a fog, unclear, her dreams sometimes overlapping with reality.
She saw things in her sleep, in the water and in the fire, felt them subconsciously under her skin. She felt when something was approaching, when destiny was coming.
She had always liked Jace; he was kind and polite towards her, sometimes they would speak with each other during supper. She thought she could have a husband like him in the future, it didn't bother her that he was a child from an illegitimate bed.
Unlike the rest of her family, it didn't matter to her.
Her mother and grandfather, however, decided otherwise.
She was to marry her elder brother.
Aegon always needed a lot of attention and cried loudly when their mother left him with their wet nurse – he always wanted to be with her, wanted her to be there for him, but his grandfather had told him from an early age that he whined like a girl.
He would stop crying then and sit in silence, clenching his lips so that he was almost blue, suffocating whatever wanted to come out of him, trembling all over.
She would come up to him then and embrace him, sitting beside him, only quiet, high pitched, mournful squeaks coming out of his throat.
She pitied him.
He suffered from the absence of their father and mother the most of them all. He could not cope with the fact that he could never be weak, his every effort ending in failure, as if he was doomed to it.
He couldn't understand her. He didn't know why she was fascinated by insects and he didn't want to know, because he never asked her about it. He quickly became interested in women, their attention, their touch and tenderness replacing his closeness to his own mother, his need to be loved by someone at least for a moment.
Although she wanted to be able to give him this, his contained, wild nature did not allow them to get close to each other.
During their wedding night he cried, completely drunk, saying he couldn't do it – she stood before him in her white nightgown, resigned and sad, knowing that nothing she said or did would change the fact that he was a broken man.
He didn't want her love, he wanted her to be someone completely different.
For her to look different.
But she was herself and there was nothing she could do about it.
When he finally got the courage, when she felt him inside her the discomfort and pain were indescribable – he tried to prepare her for it, but she was too tense and frightened.
She began to cry along with him and he apologised to her quietly over and over again.
They had done their duty, but they were unable to even look at each other – they knew that what had happened between them was wrong, cruel, inappropriate.
Yet it was exactly what was expected of them.
The heirs to the throne.
They both breathed a sigh of relief when it was revealed that she was expecting his child – he stopped visiting her chamber then, indulging in his beloved drunkenness and women, any who were willing to warm his bed. She knew there was no point in discussing it with him.
It wouldn't have changed anything anyway.
They rejoiced together for the first time when he took their children in his arms. He was visibly proud, pleased because she had given birth to two children, not one, on top of which one of them was a son.
He considered it half his success.
He then asked how she was feeling and whether she had handled the birth well. However, he then disappeared from her life again until Borros Baratheon's youngest daughter arrived in the Red Keep.
She and Aemond formed a wordless, close bond and she felt subconsciously why he had chosen her – despite her younger brother's brutality and dark nature, he craved tenderness and closeness while needing someone with a strong character beside him.
She was pleased when the smiling, joyful girl began to visit her, their pleasant, long conversations making her repetitive, grey days more enjoyable.
For the first time she had someone to confide in – she knew that she was not the type of person prone to gossip, and she herself, having already married her brother, would sometimes tell her what she was facing.
When she and Aemond did not speak to each other she would support her in her decision to let him choose for himself to approach her again.
Nothing good ever came out of forcing her younger brother to do anything.
However, she noticed something in Aegon that began to worry her – he would appear in places where they walked, chatting up his brother's wife during the suppers.
She feared that her husband would do something to her, that he would hurt her like he did to their servants.
In the end, however, he did not hurt her brother's wife, but her.
She tried not to cry or scream, pressing her face against the pillow as he slammed into her sore walls so violently and quickly that her body trembled in convulsions, her hands clenched on the bedding.
She burst out sobbing when he finished, when he began to apologise again, when he embraced her.
She felt empty, washed of emotion, unworthy of anyone's love or affect.
She didn't need or want anything.
She just wanted peace and quiet.
And suddenly, after she had exploded, after she had confronted him after his coronation, Aegon snapped. He hugged her for the first time in his life, his words sincere and from the bottom of his heart.
He promised not to hurt her again.
She did not believe him; however, he had indeed stopped visiting her at night. Instead, he started visiting her during the day.
At first, he would simply come to see their children, and she would sit and embroider during this time, watching them from the sidelines. Despite his nature, her brother tried to be a good father, giving their children more attention than Viserys gave them.
He surprised her one day when, after Aemond had left the Red Keep and set off for Harrenhal, followed by his wife, he asked if they would have supper together.
She knew what he would ask her.
"Did you help her?" He asked quietly, taking a sip of wine of his goblet, putting a bit of cooked porridge on his plate from the platter beside him. She looked up at him.
"Yes."
She wondered what he would do with this information. He, however, only nodded and changed the subject, asking her about a gift for their Mother for her Name Day.
They ate with each other everyday, and his persona slowly stopped frightening her. He did not touch her and kept his distance, still feeling remorse and shame for what he had done to her.
It made her feel less alone.
However, it was after his return from the Battle of the Eyrie that he broke his word. He came to her dressed in his shirt and breeches, waking her in the middle of the night. She felt her body tense up all over, terrified of what she expected him to do.
"Can I sleep next to you tonight?" He mumbled, and she pressed her lips together at his words.
She knew what was occupying his thoughts.
Daeron.
She moved slightly away, making room for him, and he came up slowly, laying down beside her on the sheets, facing her. They stared at each other for a moment, his eyes puffy and red from tears, his lips parted in an uneven breath.
He began to sob loudly, mournfully, clenching his eyelids as if trying to hold it back like when he was a child. Her hand involuntarily rose, stroked his cheek.
"– cry –" She said quietly, and then a wave of tears and moans left his throat as if he needed to hear it, to be able to finally release all the grief he had held inside him for years.
He pressed his face to her chest seeking help, comfort, and she did not push him away. She embraced him, stroking his hair, weeping with him over the fate of their beloved little brother.
When she woke the next day she felt his body next to hers, his arm hugging her waist, his nose pressed againt hair – she could feel his hot breath on her neck, but it was not unpleasant.
He didn't smell of wine, his embrace wasn't painful or ambiguous.
She thought that if he wanted to sleep in her chamber more often, she would let him.
During Daeron's funeral, when her brother-husband broke down once more, she grasped his cheek in her palm and directed his face at her.
"Our brother is no longer suffering. Don't let his body rot." She whispered in pain and he pressed his lips together. He nodded and looked again at the pyre before them.
She watched as her youngest brother's body disappeared into the flames and closed her eyes.
She was surprised to feel a sting in her heart when Floris Baratheon appeared before her husband, that she felt pain watching her brother-husband devour her with his eyes.
She felt pain at the thought that she had hoped something would change between them.
When he came to her after a few days to tell her that he wanted to take a second wife she looked at him for a long moment with her lips parted.
It broke her heart.
Aegon knelt before her, taking her hands in his own, looking at her pleadingly.
"Just say one word and I won't do it. I promised you I would not hurt you again. However, I feel lonely, sister. I would so much like to finally experience happiness."
She agreed.
She wanted him to be happy.
But what Aemond had said to her as he held her in his arms had planted a seed of uncertainty in her heart, had lowered the veil that showed her the future that awaited her and her children.
She thought she had to do something.
It wasn't about forgiving or forgetting.
It was about her and her children.
About their safety.
She wanted to do something for herself at last.
In the evening she asked her servant to prepare her bath – she lay in a tub filled with water mixed with fragrant oils, then combed her long white hair and dressed in the most beautiful, most ornate nightgown she had.
She knew she had to act quickly and instructed her servant to tell her husband that she wanted to visit him in his chamber.
After a few minutes, she returned and said that the King would receive her.
Walking down the corridor she passed Floris Baratheon, whom Aegon had apparently dismissed so that she could speak to her.
She felt a strange sense of satisfaction at that thought and smiled under her breath.
As she stepped inside Aegon rose from his seat, looking at her frightened and confused. He walked over to her and touched her shoulders with his hands. She did not push him away.
"Is something wrong? Something with our children?" He asked and she did not answer him. She stared at him, having trouble getting what she wanted to say out of her throat.
"This is our last night." She whispered and he furrowed his brow, not understanding what she meant.
"This is the last night you can have me as your wife. In which you can change what I have experienced. Can it be enjoyable for me?" She asked, her voice trembling at the last words, tears starting to flow from her eyes down her red cheeks.
She didn't know why, but she longed for him to touch her, for him not to be violent, to tell her that she too was beautiful, that she too could be loved and desired.
She saw his lip tremble, he swallowed difficulty, shaking his head.
"I…sister, what are you asking me?" He muttered, his hand touching her cheek uncertainly as if to check for if she had a fever.
"For at least one night pretend you ever loved me." She whispered in a breaking voice, and he wept along with her, as if her words were bursting straight into his heart. He caught her cheeks in his hands, stepping closer to her.
"I love you. After all, you know I love you."
She kissed him.
For the first time of her own free will, for the first time seeking something for herself, for her body, for her pleasure – she didn't want to think about who he was or what he had done, to think about how much he had hurt her over the years.
For one night she wanted to forget, to imagine that they were happy, that he desired her and only her.
She drew in a loud breath as his hand tightened in her hair and pulled her to him so that she bumped against his body, her fingers clamped on his back.
She didn't move away when she felt his slick tongue slide between her lips, she didn't move away when she felt his large hand clamp down on her buttock, when she felt his manhood pulsing hard in his breeches, hitting her stomach.
"Do you want this? Do you really want this?" He exhaled between the chaos of their teeth, lips and tongues, their fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of their garments.
"Yes."
Never before had he been so tender to her, so slow and gentle, his puffy, moist lips roamed through her body, placing soft, wet kisses on her skin.
He asked her if she wanted this before he pressed his lips around her nipple and began to suck on it, asked her if she wanted this when his hand slid between her thighs, asked her if she wanted this before he sat between her legs and slipped his tongue into her hot, fleshy interior.
She had never felt anything like this before, it felt like her whole body was trembling from the spasms and moans that were erupting from her throat, she didn't know that it could have felt like this, that the whole terrifying act for her could have been so wonderfully peaceful and safe.
When he forced his way inside her, for the first time doing so while looking at her face, she was surprised to find that she felt no discomfort. He rolled his hips, slowly sliding in and out of her with ease, she could hear the quiet, sticky clicks of her moisture each time his thighs slapped against her buttocks again.
He leaned over her once in a while to kiss her, and she reciprocated the gesture, clasping her hands in his hair.
She could see him looking at her with uncertainty, not believing this was really happening, his body wet and sweaty just like hers.
"– ah – fuck – tell me if you want me to stop –" He exhaled as his thrusts became more brutal, his hand finding a spot between her thighs from where her whole body trembled in pleasure, she felt the tension in her body reach its peak.
"– do not stop –" She whispered, clenching her eyes, panting along with him, feeling her walls clenching on his erection. He groaned loudly at her words, speeding up his pace, her hips coming up to meet him, the bed beneath them creaking loudly.
"– will you come tomorrow too? – will you visit me in my bed? –" He gasped as he looked down at her, and she felt something happen, her whole body shuddered, heat and pleasure like she had never known before spilling over her body.
Aegon groaned and cursed loudly as he felt her begin to clench around his length, sucking it inside her, unable to stop pouding into her, seeking his own fulfilment.
"− yes − yes −" She whispered. He gasped loudly and she felt him come inside her, his spend filling her insides.
He collapsed on top of her and they both lay like that, panting and trembling. She stared at the canopy above her with her lips slightly parted, unable to calm herself, her body still going through shivers of pleasure – she heard him swallow loudly, his nose pressed against her cheek.
"– stay with me –"
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