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humanpurposes · 9 months

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My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part vii (final)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // this godforsaken mess that you made me

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut

Words: 9k

A/n: Sorry it's been a month since I updated this but we made it to the end!! Just wanna say thank you to everyone who's followed along, liked, commented on and reblogged this series, I've been so overwhelmed by the amazing responses to this, just all the love 🖤 Also available to read on AO3.

It’s easy to forget just how fucking freezing King’s Landing can be in December. She pulls her leather jacket a little tighter around herself but there’s not much she can do about the cold stabbing at her legs through her fishnets— why the fuck had she worn a mini dress in the first place? It falls a little higher up her thighs than she wants it to and the bust just doesn’t fit quite right, but she supposes she has to commit now. She at least counts herself lucky that it’s not snowing.

She looks down at the pavement as it moves underneath her black boots. There’s her second mistake— one cocktail past her usual limit. Now she feels aware but somehow numb. She finds wonder in everything around her, the glare of colourful lights on the outside of the bars they rush past, the pulsing of music from every direction, the smells of smoke, vapes, and that distinct, sharp scent of winter.

She had met Baela, Rhaena, Jace and their friends at a pub near the train station. Being the last to arrive, she sat at the edge of the table. It wasn’t a big group but that only made her more nervous. The other girls introduced themselves as Coryanne, Jeyne, Jess and Floris, all beautiful, all dressed immaculately. She told them her name and they said a unanimous “hi!” but other than that it was hard to talk to them while they gossiped about people she didn’t know and reminisced memories she had no part in. Even Jace was distracted; he was clearly all over Coryanne and spent the entire evening trying too hard to make her laugh.

So she kept ordering cocktails, a different one each time, downing them in quick succession and waiting for the evening to pass.

She keeps telling herself this was a good idea. She needs the distraction, anything to get her mind off the obvious.

The others are all walking ahead of her, and she has to keep sight of them because she has no idea where Dracarys actually is. Baela keeps looking over her shoulder every so often, to check on her she assumes. She gives her a nod and a polite smile, but when Baela turns around, her face falls back to a comfortable frown. She doesn’t mean to look miserable, but she can’t help it. It must be so obvious that she doesn’t belong with these people. She’s just a stray they’ve picked up out of pity.

They turn a corner and suddenly half the street is taken up with a queue of impatient looking people, all in smart shirts and party dresses. Baela calls her name and grabs her hand, pulling her along after the rest of their group.

“Surely this isn’t the line for Dracarys?” she says.

Baela chuckles and keeps marching ahead.

They walk along the queue for a good few minutes. Suddenly they reach an old building with columns and a bell tower. It looks like it could be a Sept or a museum, until she registers the glaring red lights, the tall braziers marking either side of the entrance and the neon logo of a dragon against a blue flame.

Apparently tagging along with not one but two Targaryens has its benefits. Baela keeps her close and their whole group breezes past the bouncers without being asked for ID or charged for entry.

“Dad’s a co-owner,” Baela says in her ear as they walk towards the front steps. She can already feel the bass of the music rattling in her chest.

There’s a smoking area at the bottom of the steps, cornered off from the street by tall hedges and iron gates. It’s dotted with mostly pairs of people, each engrossed in their own conversations.

As Baela leads her up the steps she notices a solitary figure, obscured by shadows, leaning against the wall with his back slightly curved and his chin tilted down. He lights a cigarette. The flicker of flame lights up the sharp features of his face and his silver hair.

Fuck.

Aemond’s not even a club kind of guy. He hates the dancing and the “shitty” music. He likes metal concerts and late-night conversations, preferably somewhere you can actually hear the person next to you.

A plume of smoke billows from his lips, and for whatever reason, he glances towards the front steps.

After a double take, his eyes meet hers, wide and curious.

She only realises she’s stopped walking when Baela tugs on her hand. “You coming or what?” she says over her shoulder, trying to keep up with the others.

She can’t take her eyes off him. Of all the places he could have spent New Years, why does he have to be here?

Don’t engage.

His back straightens as he takes his weight off the wall.

Let go.

She shakes her head and snaps herself out of whatever trance she’s under.

She’ll just ignore him. As long as she sticks with Balea and Jace, everything will work out fine. Surely.

The inside of the club is vast like the nave of the Grand Sept. It has a high vaulted ceiling and an enormous stained-glass window on the farthest wall from the doors.

The floor before them is a sea of bodies in flashy outfits, moving in time to a low, synthy song. Colourful lights cut through the darkness, giving the faces an eerie glow. A few groups linger around the edges of the room, drinking cocktails and taking shots in booths around glass tables. At the end of the hall, under the stained-glass window, is the bar, illuminated with red lights.

Baela keeps a tight hold of her hand as they all fight their way to the bar. Someone orders for her and the bartender places a shot glass of vibrant blue liquor in front of her. Rhaena screams “Happy New Year!” as the others cheers their glasses together.

She holds her up to the light before she downs it, wincing at the sickly, sweet and sour tang it leaves on her tongue.

Her heart thunders in her chest, confused by the music and the sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

Aemond is here.

She’s supposed to be ignoring him, and she had been doing a good job of it so far.

Until that fucking call on Christmas Eve.

What did he think was going to happen? Six months of nothing, then one phone call and she was going to come running back to him?

But she had already proved that she can’t say no to him, the night of the dinner party, while Alys and Cregan were only in adjacent rooms. All it had taken was his hands on her hips, his breath on her neck, a few harshly whispered words and the promise of a quick fuck. It was enough for her to give in, consequences be damned.

She looks back at doors on the other side of the room. She tells herself she’s not looking for a head of silver hair, but it isn’t much good lying to herself. One look at him outside a club and she can feel that hollow feeling in her chest, an emptiness that Aemond has always been able to fill so perfectly.

“How could I ever stop wanting you?”

“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

Would he say the same now?

Rhaena screams again. She doesn’t catch what she says, but the answer to that is evident when Aegon and Daeron materialise from the crowd, hugging Rhaena, Baela and some of the girls. Jace’s face hardens and he puts his arm around Coryanne’s shoulders.

Then Aegon’s eyes come to her. “Fancy seeing you here!” she shouts into her ear over the music.

She can’t stop herself. “Is Aemond with you?”

Aegon glances towards the door. “He went outside for a fag.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and furrows his brow. “How are things with you and your mum?”

She frowns. “Why?”

Aegon’s eyes widen and he laughs to himself to play it off. “Just asking, I thought things might be a bit awkward what with… everything that’s gone on.”

“Everything?”

He pauses. “Him and Alys.”

“Right,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s looking at her like he’s trying to read her mind.

She hates not knowing what other people are thinking, and it only adds to her growing restlessness. Aemond wouldn’t tell Aegon about them, would he? But part of her thinks Aegon would use the opportunity to be more of a dick about it if he knew.

They find a booth and file in. Jace is clearly trying to avoid Aegon; he sits between Coryanne and Daeron. Baela is polite with both of her cousins and Rhaena is friendly, but maybe that’s just the booze. Either way, Aegon is a charmer, and slots himself nicely beside Floris. Jenye and Jess are all over each other, whispers into each other’s ears becoming kisses to their cheeks, necks and mouths.

She slips off her jacket and sits at the end of the table, alone. It's like being at the pub all over again.

Until she spots someone walking towards their table.

Aemond stops, his eyes only on her. No one else seems to have noticed him yet.

She looks across the table, at the only empty space left.

His chest rises and his nostrils flare. He slowly sits opposite her, keeping his shoulders tense and his hands in fists.

She wishes she had a drink in front of her, if only to have something to do. She moves between having her hands on and under the table, unable to keep her fingers still. She bounces her leg, messes with her hair, tries to focus on fragments of conversation drifting from the others.

Then something brushes against her, under the table. She freezes, but relaxes as she feels Aemond’s leg settling against hers. She glances across at him while pretending to listen to something Rhaena’s talking about. Aemond holds her gaze, leaning against the back of the booth with a solemn look on his face.

She can feel his breath on her hands as he exhales a deep breath.

Baela insists that she wants to dance, and so does Rhaena. They drag Daeron with them and disappear into the mass of dancers. Aemond has to stand to let them out, and when he sits back down his leg brushes against hers again.

It’s so painfully obvious that everyone at the table is coupled up, Jace and Coryanne, Aegon and Floris, Jeyne and Jess. Aemond seems to be trying not to pay attention to any of them. He angles his head in the other direction.

She lets her eyes wander along the tightness of his jaw, the tendons in his neck, and the glint of a silver chain beneath his shirt.

She presses her lips together.

Don’t engage.

Don’t do anything stupid.

But maybe she should have thought of that before the cocktails.

She leans forward on her elbows, but as she opens her mouth to speak, Aemond calls Aegon’s name.

“Drink?” he mimes.

She doesn’t see Aegon’s reply. Aemond’s eyes move over her before he stands and heads towards the bar. Suddenly her leg feels cold at the absence.

A particularly loud giggle catches her attention. She looks down the table. Aegon is leaning into Floris’ ear with a dark look in his eye and she’s smiling, but he’s watching her. His eyes flicker over to the bar, and he grins.

Fucking pricks. The pair of them.

Only when she stands up does she realise how dizzy she is, but she ignores it, and makes her way through the crowd until she finds Baela, Rhaena and Daeron. She grabs Baela’s hands, less dancing, more stepping and swaying to the music.

But she keeps ending up turning her head towards the bar. It’s easy to spot Aemond, he towers over most of the people here, his silver hair gleaming under the red lights.

“I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Baela shouts into her ear, “it’s not too awkward is it?”

The music doesn’t make sense to her. It’s just noise. Everything is just frantic noise, and she can’t stand it. She feels restless, and so fucking angry. She wants to dig her nails into her palms. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

“It’s fine!” she shouts back, “So fucking fine!”

She looks back to the bar. Aemond is at the front of the queue now.

“I need a drink,” she says, not loud enough for Baela to hear.

His name is a gentle hum in her throat as she gets closer to him, weaving her way through the other bodies in the crowd. She doesn’t care when they tell her to get in line and wait her turn. She keeps her eyes fixed on him.

Until he’s close enough to touch.

She watches her hand reach for his shoulder.

He turns his head around with a sharp look of surprise, but it melts away when he realises it’s her.

He mouths her name but she doesn’t hear it. He brushes his fingertips against the bare skin of her arm and she feels weightless. He’s looking at her. She can feel his heat through his shirt.

Until he withdraws his hand with an irritated huff. He leans into her until their noses are inches apart. Even in the low light of the club his eyes are only marginally blue, and she smells whisky on his breath. “Don’t start this again,” he says over the music.

She scowls until her face hurts. “You called me.”

“And you didn’t pick up.”

Her heart shatters. She thought she had done the right thing, but it seems a common occurrence with Aemond that nothing is ever right.

“It was a mistake,” he says sharply, “a stupid fucking mistake. Just forget it.”

He brushes her hand from his shoulder and storms off towards the front doors.

Panic and confusion courses through her. It feels worse because she’s drunk, she knows that, but it still hurts.

Her eyes start to sting as one song ends and another begins. It’s one everyone in the room seems to recognise.

She fights her way back to the booth and grabs her jacket, slipping it over her arms.

Jeyene and Jess are gone, and Jace and Coryanne have found their way to the dancefloor. Floris and Aegon are the only ones left, her legs draped over his lap.

“Leaving so soon?” Aegon coos.

She doesn’t spare him any of her attention. She tries to spot Aemond as she makes her way to the doors on unsure legs.

What if he’s already left? What if this is it, and he never so much as tries to speak to her again? What if she finds him and he pushes her away?

“Five minutes to midnight, ladies and gentlemen!” a voice booms through the speakers. Moving through the room is like swimming against the current as more people make their way to the dance floor, but she manages to make it to the doors.

The cold air hits her suddenly. It burns in her lungs and bites at her skin. The front steps and the street below her are quiet now, and so is the smoking area. Save for one person.

Aemond sits on a bench, hunched over himself, flicking his lighter, but never lighting a cigarette.

He looks up when she stops in front of him, his lips slightly parted, the red lights casting shadows in the angles of his chin and cheeks, and his nose.

“Are you seriously running away from me?” she says.

His mouth is in a thin line. He keeps flicking the lighter open and shut, open and shut. “You seemed happy enough avoiding me before.”

“Before? Before what? Before you left me in a hotel room?”

Aemond groans and rubs his fingers over his temple. “I’m not sober enough to have this conversation.”

“No, you’d rather ignore me for the rest of your life.”

“Look, I just want to go about doing things the right way—”

“I think we’re way fucking past that now.”

He groans. “What do you want me to do then?” he says, his voice laced with spite.

“Take some fucking responsibility!” she cries, louder than she means to.

He takes her off guard when he stands and steps into her. She takes a step back, and he keeps walking, until her back meets a wall. “And what does responsibility look like, hmm?” He places a hand beside her head leans in further still, until all she sees is the furious look in his eyes. “I called and you didn’t pick up. I try to keep my distance and look at you, you’re still practically begging for my attention.”

“Once,” she utters. “You called me once in six months.”

“And if I had tried before, after the dinner, after I left Alys, would you have listened to me?”

Her head lolls into her shoulder. All she remembers of that day is her mum, screaming and crying, storming upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. She stood there, in the kitchen, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face and her heartbeat pulsing in her head.

Her entire world had come crumbling down. Her mother hated her, and she was going to have to break things off with Cregan, and Aemond was gone. If he had called her then, she doesn’t know if she would have been able to manage a single word.

“No,” she says.

Her heart leaps as he takes her chin in his fingertips and tilts her gaze up to him.

He looks down at her with challenge, his eyes squinted slightly, lips in a smug pout. “What do you want me to do? How do I make this right?”

Her hands press against his chest, hypnotised as it rises and falls with each breath he takes. Then her eyes move to his mouth, that perfecting fucking mouth— it’s her favourite feature of his, she decides, the telling twitches of his lips and the way they feel against her skin.

Aemond clamps his hands over her wrists. “See?” he says in a low voice. “You think you’re so righteous, so perfect, but you’re just too fucking needy.”

She surges into him, grazing his lips with hers before he pulls away.

He keeps a tight grip on her wrists, and stares at her with wide eyes.

Only for him to come crashing into her, returning the favour with his own harsh and bruising kiss. He’s desperate and unforgiving, cupping her face with his hands so she has no choice but to let it consume her.

And she lets him. She lets him graze her lips with his teeth, slip his tongue into her mouth and steal the very air from her lungs.

The faint but familiar taste of whisky burns on her tongue. It’s thrilling and grounding all at once.

When they finally part from each other, he rests his forehead against hers. They glare at each other as they try to catch their breaths.

She can still feel the beat of the music from inside the club, and a voice over the speaker, gearing up for the countdown for the New Year.

“I meant it when I told you I loved you,” she says. “It’s not how I wanted to say it, but it was the truth.”

Aemond takes a harsh breath and runs his hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I can’t do this now,” he whispers.

She leans further into the wall, only to find she can’t get away from him. She pushes against his chest, but all her strength is gone.

Aemond takes a small step away from her. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not thinking straight I…”

She doesn’t listen to him. She can’t, not past the pounding in her head, the retching feeling in her stomach and the crowd inside the club as they start to chant.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You must have known how much you meant to me,” she says. Her voice is clear and her tears are effortless.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“And what did you do with it? You left me with nothing…”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“You showed me something I’ve never known and then you took it away, only to drag me back in…”

The world erupts around them. Every single voice in the city screams as midnight hits, fireworks and flares soar into the sky and burst with colour, light and noise.

“And I feel so stupid because I let you do it. But I still don’t understand… why do you have to be so fucking cruel? What did I do wrong?”

Aemond looks back at her with a face of agony. Flashes of green, red and gold glisten in his eyes.

“I thought I mattered to you,” she says.

“You did. You still do.”

Her head must be about to burst. She chokes on a sob and cradles her head in her hands.

She keeps her eyes on the floor as Aemond steps into her, and when he wraps his arms around her, she doesn’t have the energy to pull away.

“I’m so tired.” She says it over and over again.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment where they make an agreement, but she lets Aemond pry her hands from her face and lead her onto the street. He tucks her jacket tighter around her arms while he mutters about how cold it is.

She doesn’t feel the cold against her skin, but she can feel herself shivering and her teeth chattering.

A car pulls up to the pavement. Aemond opens the rear door and ushers her inside. It’s warm inside, and the seats are soft. He sits beside her and she falls into him. She closes her eyes, letting the motions and the hum of the engine lull her to a place between waking and sleeping.

Aemond’s gently shakes her awake when the car stops. Wherever he’s brought her, it’s quiet, and once the car disappears down the street, it’s almost silent.

Something cold lands on her cheek. She brushes it away and it melts under her fingers. She looks up, at heavy snowflakes against the streetlights, blinking them from her eyes as they fall.

Aemond takes her hand and she holds it tightly. The dusting of snow crunches under her boots as they walk, a short way along the street and up a series of steps. He doesn’t let go of her as he takes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

He marches her up a seemingly endless number of stairs before they come to a corridor, and another door. It’s dark on the other side, and it smells like him.

She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Tall windows make up most of the outer facing walls, and King’s Landing lays out before them. They must be on the outskirts of the city, given how quiet it is, but she can see everything from here, the lights on Conquest Street, the silhouettes of the Red Keep and the Grand Sept, fireworks and lanterns, and the void that is Blackwater Bay beyond the docks.

Aemond leads her through another door. She winces when he turns on a light, but as her vision starts to settle, she realises it’s a bedroom. She’s drawn to the bed like a magnet, collapsing against the duvet.

“Shoes,” Aemond says.

She kicks her boots off and tosses her jacket on the floor. She curls her face into the pillow. It occurs to her that she hasn’t taken her makeup off, but she’s too tired to really care.

Aemond won’t let her sleep yet. He hands her a glass of water and waits for her to drink a few sips. Then he takes it from her and hands her a t-shirt.

“No…” she drawls, falling back against the bed, “wanna sleep.”

“Please,” Aemond says softly.

She drags herself up, fumbling to undo the zip on her dress. She pulls it over her head and rids herself of her bra and fishnets and lifts her arms up for Aemond to help her into the t-shirt. That smells like him too.

“Better?” he says.

She won’t give him the satisfaction. She crawls underneath the duvet, and by the time the light switches off and the door closes, she’s already half asleep.

The first feeling that hits her is a dull ache pulsing in her head.

Then comes a dry feeling in her throat.

Then a nauseating kind of hunger.

And then dread.

Her eyes dart open; it’s still dark in here, wherever here is.

She looks down at the Pink Floyd t-shirt hanging off her. It’s too broad in the shoulders to be hers.

Her lips feel strange. She trails her fingertips over them and squints, just makeing out the shape of her dress and her boots on the floor.

The memories start to fade into view, like a fog lifting from her mind. The pub, the club, the loneliness, and Aemond…

“Fuck,” she hisses.

She’s still a little dizzy as she drags herself from the bed. She finds her phone in her jacket, on the last legs of its battery. 8:55, 1st January glares up at her on the screen, along with texts and missed calls from Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Alys.

“Fuck!”

She grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and treads softly along the hardwood floor, to the door.

She hovers her hand over the handle. She’ll have to come out eventually, might as well get it over with.

The bedroom leads out to an open living space she doesn’t recognise in the slightest. In the corner there’s a kitchen and a small dining table with four chairs, then the rest of the room holds two sofas, a coffee table, a record player, plenty of bookshelves and by the window, a desk and a prayer plant with a ribbon tied around its pot.

None of the lights are on and from what she can tell, Aemond isn’t even here. The room is lit only by daylight. Beyond the windows, the sky is a dull grey and King’s Landing is covered in snow.

Nothing about the apartment is disorderly, expect perhaps for the extensive collection of shoes and coats by the door, most of them black with the odd item of brown for some variety.

The only photos on display are on the desk. One is of Alicent and Helaena, both in pale blue jeans and white blouses, with gentle smiles their arms around each other. Another is of Aegon and Daeron sitting by the pool at Dragonstone. The final one is of an arched, stone bridge, which she recognises immediately as Roseroad Bridge in Oldtown. It’s lined with statues of famous Maesters, Steptons and members of the Hightower family, and she walks along it every day to get from her apartment to uni.

He has his own place now then. She wonders if he moved in right after he left Queen’s Park.

She resists the urge to run her fingers along the desk, or over the closed cover of a notebook and the ink pen beside it.

Her head snaps towards the front door as it unlocks. Aemond walks in with snow on his jacket, a brown paper bag and two coffee cups in a drinks holder.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Morning,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

She slowly makes her way to the kitchen as he unpacks the bag— eggs, a loaf of sourdough and some cherry tomatoes.

He looks up at her, and places one of the cups in front of her. “Oat, vanilla latte.”

“Thanks,” she says. It’s not quite as hot as she would have liked, but she’ll forgive him on account of the snow.

“Sit down,” he says, nodding to the dining table. “Won’t take me long.”

He plates up scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast and they eat in silence. After that he quietly clears their plates. She wonders if he’s scared of making too much noise.

Then he comes to sit back down, with a fresh glass of water and painkillers for her.

He sits rigidly against his chair, with one hand on the table and the other in his lap. She’d bet anything his fingers are restless under the table.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

She considers for a moment. She’s starting to feel somewhat closer to normal, but the panic has yet to wear off. “Fine.”

She glances around the room. “This is nice,” she says.

“Rhaenys owns it. She let me move in at short notice.”

“After…”

“After I ended things with Alys.”

She hums distantly, folding her arms and crossing her leg over her knee.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says.

“Which part are you sorry for?”

He angles an eyebrow at her. “All of it?”

She pouts her lips in irritation— a habit she picked up from him.

His mouth quirks. He clears his throat, takes a sip of his coffee and, by the look of it, struggles to swallow it.

“I’m sorry too, for being so careless,” she says.

“No, I should have left once I saw you.” He presses his lips together and taps his fingertip against the table, three times. “And I’m sorry for calling you on Christmas Eve. I don’t even know what I would have said.”

Her heart sinks, but she reminds herself that’s what she should want. “Just a stupid mistake, yeah?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Did I really say that? It was actually highly premeditated.”

“Why?” she asks with more disgust than she means to.

He gestures with his hands, as though it should be obvious. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

The tension fades from her face. She feels the pull, the hope, the way it crushes her and makes her feel lighter. That’s all she had wanted, as she watched the phone ring, for him to want her, and then she could allow herself to want him back, even though it always ends in misery.

She can still remember what he looked like when they were at Dragonstone, that quiet, reserved kid who spent more time reading than he spent talking. She remembers how excited she was whenever their eyes met or she spotted him sitting alone. She remembers that day he showed her around the house and the gallery. She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he never did.

Maybe he never cared. Maybe was just using her. Maybe she was nothing but another body to fuck.

That doesn’t explain the small things. The hours he spent studying with her, the nights they stayed up talking about anything they could think of, his attentiveness for details, her coffee order, her favourite songs, the way he celebrated her happiness and read her like a book.

“How did we end up here?” she says, “how did we make such a mess of this?”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach for her hand, but he stops himself. “I had such a crush on you, when you came to Dragonstone you know,” he says.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think you liked me.”

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a breath. It seems like such a simple misunderstanding for all the pain it has caused.

“I just remember thinking that someone as wonderful as you would never want…” he absentmindedly brushes his fingers along the scar over his eye. “I was different back then; I still had a lot to learn.”

“Aemond,” she says, drawing his eyes back to her, “I thought you were wonderful too.”

“Oh.” He stops himself from smiling and ends up twisting his lips and sticking his chin out in an awkward expression. “Look, I’ve had time to think, and talk this through—”

“With Aegon?”

“And Helaena.”

She tries not to roll her eyes.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” he says.

She leans back in her chair and raises her eyebrows.

Aemond draws his tongue between his lips. “I tried not to think much about you after Dragonstone. You were just Jace’s cousin, I didn’t think I’d have a reason to see you again. And then I knew that first night with Alys was a bad idea. But everything was happening with dad and Rhaenyra, mum was still upset about Storm’s End, and it was just after Harwin got sick… it just happened.”

“Good for you,” she grumbles.

“I’m not trying to play a sympathy card, I just want to tell you the truth,” he says. This time he doesn’t shy away from reaching for her hand. She doesn’t move, and watches as he settles for just resting his hand over hers. “I never meant for things to go as far as they did, but I needed a way out. I needed to get away from my family and Targ Corp. Alys gave me a purpose outside of all that.”

“So you used her?”

“Yes. And she got something out of it too.”

She doesn’t argue against that.

“I don’t know I thought maybe I’d be over how I felt about you. We were just kids, it had been a few years, but then I saw you… and you were perfect. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

Guilt twinges in her chest. “It wasn’t just you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I kissed you first.”

He tightens his hold of her hand. “But I still wanted you. And we worked it out so well, I just thought we could keep going as we were.”

“Until I fucked it up.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“I did though. I should never have said…” her eyes are starting to sting at the memory. Sprawled out on the bed, naked and not quite satisfied. The empty feeling in her chest as he left her there.

“I couldn’t take me eyes off you at the wedding,” Aemond says. “And then you had one conversation with that Stark kid, and I was losing my fucking mind. I knew why it bothered me. I know how I felt, no matter how I tried to rationalise it. I knew how I felt about you. I always knew.”

She blinks and two tears trail down her cheeks. She can’t manage any more than that.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what it would mean if you felt the same. It just became too real, I—” He exhales heavily, and runs his hand through his hair. “I know this is my mess. I should have stayed away from Alys. I should have been honest. But at the time, it just felt easier to just… let everything happen.”

She had never seen Alys cry as much as she had, that morning when she told her the truth.

“What did you say to mum?”

“After the dinner party? She’d had a horrible night as it was. She said she wished I had defended her more against my parents. I said she should have known what was going to happen before she invited everyone over and that she should stop trying to get involved in my life.”

“Can’t imagine she took that well.”

“I ended up telling her I had rethought my priorities. I couldn’t be what she needed. I said I’d leave Rivers PR and try to patch things up with my family.”

“You didn’t tell her about us though.”

He swipes his thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t know if you would want me to.”

She takes a shallow breath. “I told her. After you left, I went downstairs and told her everything.”

“What did she say?”

Sometimes she still has nightmares about that morning. She stands in the kitchen while her mother just screams at her.

“She was so angry. It was understandable, I guess, but we barely spoke until I went to Oldtown.”

“You’re at the university?”

“Yeah. She said Oldtown sounded like a good idea. Lots of distance, far away from her.”

“And how has it been, being back home?”

“We talked about it. I think we both realised we didn’t want to lose each other over some stupid guy.”

He half smiles, and exhales. “She called me in September,” he says. “It must have been after you left. She just said she knew. She said I was ‘sick bastard’ and that I should never speak to either of you again.”

“That’s fair,” she says. She takes a sip from her coffee and it’s cold.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” he says. “And you don’t have to forgive me, I just wanted you to know.”

She nods with the smallest movement of her head.

Aemond slides his hand away from her. He leans over his elbows and taps his fingertips on the table again.

She keeps her eyes down as he clears up the coffee cups and follows the sound of his footsteps as he walks to the kitchen, then back to her, hovering over her shoulder.

He takes a slow breath.

“Whenever you’re ready, I could drop you home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Or if you want another drink, or a shower, or anything…”

She lifts her head and turns herself around to face him. He looks so tired.

“I’ll take you up on a shower.”

He leads her back to the bedroom, handing her a towel from a cupboard, and through to an ensuite with dark tiles on the walls, ceiling and floor, and a shower cornered off from the rest of the room by a glass screen.

She hangs the towel on the back of the door while Aemond runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

They turn back into each other.

A hazy cloud of steam fills the room. Aemond’s skin glistens, beads of water and sweat forming along his brow and his neck, but she keeps her gaze on his eyes.

She’s not sure who moves first, but they drift into one another, until their lips meet in an effortlessly delicate kiss.

But it quickly leads to something more intense when she pulls the t-shirt over her head and slides her panties down her legs.

Aemond groans lowly, pulling her into him by her waist, tracing his hands along every inch of her body he can reach. He kisses along her cheek, neck and shoulder as she teases the hem of his t-shirt and his toned stomach underneath.

He moans into her mouth, and she delights in it. “Whose needy now?” she asks sweetly against his lips.

He tears his t-shirt off in one quick movement and surges into kiss her again, cupping and kneading her breasts and her arse.

Then he takes her hands in his, and brings them down to the fly on his jeans.

She grins as he presses his forehead against hers. They both watch as she slowly undoes the buttons and hooks her fingers around the waistband.

She keeps her eyes on him as she pulls his cock free and comes to crouch in front of him, smiling at his clenched fists and tight jaw. He’s already half-hard as she starts to stroke along his length and runs her tongue along the underside of him.

She misses the weight of him in her mouth, his fist in her hair, his praises and the noises he makes as he spills down her throat, but before she can even place her lips at the tip, he drags her up to stand.

“Daddy—”

His usual commanding façade falls to something softer. “No,” he says, “just use my name.”

“Aemond,” she sighs.

He gives her a smug smile and reaches for the side of her neck, tilting her gaze up. “You still on the pill?”

Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”

“Hmm, good girl.”

He walks her into the shower, putting her back against the wall. Her back arches at the cold and the sensation of Aemond’s hands on her hips as he starts trailing kisses down her stomach. He pries her knees apart and teases the sensitive flesh of her thighs with his lips and tongue, edging closer to her cunt.

He must be feeling merciful and doesn’t waste too much time before drags his tongue through her folds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “missed this perfect pussy.”

It would be embarrassing enough how quickly she comes on his tongue, but what’s worse is just how many times Aemond draws climax after climax from her, circling his tongue over her clit, fucking her with it, then replacing it with his fingers.

Her legs tremble as she feels her slick trickling down her thighs, but he doesn’t need her to stay standing for long. He comes to stand hitches her legs around his hips.

With his face buried in her neck he lines himself up with her entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of her.

She hisses and tugs on his hair at the stretch, but the pain doesn’t last long as he starts to rut into her.

“’m not gonna last long,” he says against her skin, panting with the effort as he picks up his pace.

But she can feel just how responsive her body is to him, just how much she’s missed the feeling of him, his cock dragging through her and hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

She moans his name and holds him tighter, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

Her orgasm is a wave of warmth, a soothing relief that just keeps going as Aemond continues to fuck her.

Until his hips still and she feels his cock throb inside of her. His voice is somewhere between a groan and whimper as he comes, and it sends another thrill down her spine.

Carefully, he lowers her down to stand on her own legs, keeping hold of her waist as warm water cascades over their bodies. His eyes don’t stop moving over her face, and she can’t stop touching him, threading her fingers though his hair, feeling along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and his lips.

He turns her around. The cap of a bottle clicks and he lathers shampoo through her hair, then tilts her head back to rinse it out. Next, he coats it in conditioner, and keeping her back against his chest and his head over her shoulder, he washes her skin with a lavender body wash.

Then he pushes her into the wall by the base of her neck. She braces herself by her palms as he takes a delicate hold of her throat and fucks her again. He reaches deeper from this angle, bullying against her sweet spot.

Aemond keeps a steady pace and kisses the back of her neck. “Tell me you missed me,” he says.

“I missed you,” she utters, “missed how good you make me feel.”

“Hmm, missed being my good little slut?”

She tries to say it back, but all she manages is a throaty moan as she comes undone around him.

Then he washes the conditioner out of her hair like it’s nothing.

After he’s dried her off with the towel, he carries her back to the bedroom and lays her out on her back.

He’s insatiable. He fucks her again with their foreheads pressed together and their lips barely brushing over each other. Every brutal snap of his hips is another step towards a burning oblivion, and his pace barely falters as he positions her legs over his shoulders.

She can feel herself twitching and clamping around him, the coil in her belly tensing and tensing until it’s almost unbearable.

Aemond presses his teeth together and hisses like it hurts. “So tight,” he whispers, “my good girl, so fucking tight.”

“Please,” she utters, “Aemond, I wanna come,”

He frowns in mocking sympathy and grazes his lips over her the sensitive spot on her neck. “I know you do, baby, I’m close too, just hold out for me a little longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, barely a breath, and she says it over and over again. She closes her eyes so she can lose herself in it all, his cock dragging through her, the wet sounds of sex, the smell of sweat and lavender bodywash, his nose pressing against her cheek as he turns into her, his breath over her mouth, his desperate moans and whimpers…

Her orgasm rises and comes crashing down, until her skin comes alight and her body starts to tremble underneath him.

Aemond lets out a guttural groan as he comes, stilling his hips against her, pushing in impossibly deeper as a warmth floods through her.

He lifts his face to hover over hers. His hair is still damp and so is hers, leaving a cold patch on the pillow that makes her shiver.

Aemond leans on one hand over her and brings his thumb to her bottom lip to pry open her jaw.

She sticks her tongue out, ready and waiting as he trails a slow line of spit into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he mutters, and she does.

He smiles vaguely as takes her legs down from his shoulders and pulls her to sit up, cupping her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her lazily.

This is how things were supposed to be, she thinks, winter mornings wrapped up in each other, her body settled in a perfect state between bliss and numbness.

Suddenly he’s moving away again. “All fours,” he says.

She rolls over her side and props herself against the mattress on her hands and knees.

Aemond keeps a punishing grip of her hips as he slides his cock into her sensitive pussy, fingertips digging into her flesh as he pulls her into him with every thrust.

It doesn’t take long before her arms feel weak and her wrists start to ache. “Aemond,” she whines, “please, please…”

Aemond pulls her against his chest as he keeps pounding into her. One arm wraps around her shoulders and her chest, holding her against him while his fingers pinch at one of her nipples. His other hand snakes down her body to play with her clit.

“Mine,” he groans against the shell of her ear, “you’re mine and you love it. I’m never going to let you go, never.” As harsh as his voice is he sounds desperate, pleading.

She holds her arms over the arm keeping her in place, helpless to do anything but cling to him and just take it.

She’s lost count of how many times he’s made her come, and this orgasm tears through her suddenly as a broken cry sounds in her throat. She digs her nails into Aemond’s arm to take the edge off as white-hot pleasure surges through her.

Her mind is completely fucked out. Aemond lets her fall back on the bed and spreads her legs, trailing his thumb through her soaked folds and his cum as it dribbles out of her.

And he slips into the bed beside her, pulling the duvet over their bodies and holding her close.

“I might need another shower,” she says.

Aemond huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to her temple.

It’s cold but she drags herself from the bed and goes to the ensuite to sort herself out. She runs herself another shower and brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush she finds in a basket under the sink.

And when she comes back into the bedroom, Aemond looks at her with a dazed smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. She practically runs back to join him, wrapping her arms around his torso and tucking herself under his shoulder to rest her head over his heart.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.

She doesn’t reply but he knows she’s listening.

“I’ve been talking to mum and Otto, and I think I might take him up on that job offer at Beacon.”

Her heart beats a little faster, in time with his. Dread pools in her stomach again, eased by the afterglow and the satisfied ache between her legs.

“We’d both be in the same city, away from our families. I could get my own place.”

“And?” she utters.

“We could start over. We could try to make this work.”

Away from his parents and Targ Corp. Away from Alys. Away from the city she’s been trying to run away from.

“I think mum would kill me,” she says.

Aemond shrugs. “She wouldn’t have to know.”

“So what, we go back to keeping secrets?”

“No,” he says, turning on his side to face her. He places his hand on her neck, caressing his fingertips over her skin. “No, that’s the whole point, we wouldn’t have to hide anything in Oldtown. It would just be me and you.”

She meets his suggestion with silence.

“You don’t want to,” he whispers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she says, propping herself up and resting a hand on his chest. “But we’ve made mistakes before. I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Aemond’s expression shifts. His mouth tenses and his brow furrows, not quite angry, but hardly innocent.

“I understand,” he says, but she’s not sure she believes him.

She pulls herself away from him and swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet on the floor. ��I think you should just take me home.”

They fall back to silence. She slips into her dress and her jacket, stuffing her fishnets in her pocket because she can’t be bothered to put them on. She makes sure she has her phone and her keys, and waits for Aemond by the front door.

He’s not far behind her, appearing in a white knit jumper and a pair of blue jeans.

The streets are almost empty, and a good thing too because the roads are thick with snow. Aemond drives slowly and cautiously, not that he’s ever been an especially reckless driver.

The Bluetooth on the car picks up her phone automatically. She tuts as a Lana Del Rey song plays through the speakers.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, reaching to turn to audio off.

“No,” Aemond says, holding his hand over the button. “I like this song.”

She withdraws her hand and tries not to smile. “I fucking knew it. You’re a secret Lana fan.”

Aemond huffs a quiet laugh. “I just appreciate good music. Ultraviolence is a modern masterpiece.”

The weather gives them a reason not to talk for the rest of the way. She keeps her eyes ahead, pretending to be enchanted by the snow, but she keeps stealing glances of him, with minimal movements of her head so as not to draw his attention. She watches his hands as they grip the steering wheel, his legs as he presses down on the pedals, and his face in the reflection of the windshield.

It takes twice the amount of time it should for them to reach Queen’s Park, and he pulls over a few houses before hers.

Once they’ve stopped Aemond sighs and runs his hands over the wheel. He leaves the engine running to keep the heating going.

She eyes the door handle and her fingers twitch.

“When would you be moving to Oldtown?” she asks.

“I start at the end of the month. I’m trying to find a place before then.”

“Right,” she says.

She looks further down the street, but the house is hidden by hedges. Alys should have come straight home after her gala. Most days she’s an early riser, and she doesn’t tend to overdo it on the drinks when she’s working— which to her, is almost always. She’s probably in the kitchen, trying to figure out where in Seven Hells she ended up last night.

She looks back to Aemond. He’s watching her with wide eyes.

“I have my thesis due at the end of the term, and exams after that. I’ll be pretty busy,” she says.

He nods and peeks his tongue between his lips. “If you need anything,” he mutters, “you can call me, anytime.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know, if you ever change your mind…”

“I’ll call you.”

The possibility seems more and more likely the longer she looks at him.

But she pushes open the car door before she does something stupid.

She follows the footsteps already laid out in the snow. It must be a good few inches of snowfall; the prints are set deep. Thank the Seven she’d chosen to wear boots and not heels.

“Wait—” He doesn’t need to say it loudly, it’s quiet enough that she hears him, even when he barely utters it.

She turns as Aemond slams the car door shut and closes the distance between them in a few strides.

“What?” she utters.

Aemond nudges his nose into hers and cups her cheeks in his hands. Her skin feels like ice against him. Warmth blooms in her chest, and suddenly she’s able to forget that she’s standing out in the snow, in a black mini dress and a leather jacket.

He tenderly presses his lips into hers. They kiss like it’s their first times, with slow and cautious movements. More than anything she just feels the shape of his lips and lets them rest against each other.

This time, when she pulls away for a breath, and those careless words come out of her mouth, barely above a whisper, he doesn’t break away from her. He doesn’t abandon her. He says it back.

It’s terrifying and grounding all at once.

She crashes her lips against his to kiss him properly, tugging at the collar of his jumper and running her hand over the pulse point of his neck.

She knows she can’t lie to herself. As soon as January is done, she’ll find his name in her phone. She’ll say she missed him. He’ll tell her he loves her, and she’ll say it back. Time will tell if it turns out to be a bad decision.

“I don’t think my life makes sense without you,” she says against his lips.

Aemond smiles, with a gentle curl of his mouth and a look of intense excitement in his eyes. “I know, baby. I know.”

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick @babygirlyofthevale

#my fics #aemond targaryen #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #modern!aemond #modern au #house of the dragon fanfiction #stepdad!aemond #my heart belongs to daddy

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targaryen-dynasty · 10 months

Text

A CAUTION FOR YOUNG GIRLS.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Based on the request “Can we just ride Aemond by the hearth? Tis all. He can brat tame us, be mean, be nice..whatever honestly.“ by @dracomaledicte and yeah, we definitely can! This is the first time you’re riding your Dragon.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; p in v, cowgirl position, dry humping, fingering

WORDS: 2.4 K

NOTES: This is something I already posted on 06/14/2023.

The soft crackling of the firewood was the only sound audible, you and Aemond basking in each other’s silence with a book in your hands, occupied devouring the several pages. Before the Dragons was clutched between Aemond’s nimble fingers, while you resorted to something more debased–A Caution for Young Girls.

‘Are you this depraved?’ was your husband’s question as you plucked the book from the shelf of the library to which you just bit the tip of your tongue, flashing him a sheepish smile. You weren’t–you were just curious what all the fuss was about.

It was the whispers of your ladies-in-waiting that eventually piqued your interest to the point you had to read that book.

Aemond sat in an armchair in front of the fireplace, clad in his nightwear not wearing his eyepatch, and you sat between his parted legs with your head leaning against his knee and your body illuminated by your emerald green nightgown, your own legs crossed.

Besides the sounds of the fire, you occasionally heard him huffing or humming whenever he read a part that obviously caught him by surprise.

You hadn’t even read more than one quarter of the book, but your blood was already boiling–and not out of anger. At some point, you were so aroused, you couldn’t even focus on the pages in front of you anymore, rereading a paragraph without the words settling into your brain.

It was the explicit way of phrasing different acts of depravity that scattered your brain, one in particular catching your attention. The position Lady Coryanne Wylde described was lewd with her sitting astride her paramour, but the positive effects it had got you curious.

Aemond and you had been married for less than six moons. It was an arranged marriage, but you two had quickly figured out how well you got along–especially in the privacy of your marital chambers.

But you had never gone further than lying on your back and having him between your legs, and while you truly admired the sight, your body longed for something new.

The thick book was quickly placed aside with a dumb thud filling the comfortable silence, catching your husband’s attention. “Are you done?” He asked, spotting his raised eyebrow as you shifted to kneel between his legs.

Both your palms lay flatly on top of his sturdy thighs close to where they met his abdomen, muscles flexing with you squeezing them. You had your bottom lip slightly pushed forwards into a pout, furrowed brow looking up at him.

“No,” you replied succinctly.

Aemond, being the careful observer as always, was able to fathom the reason for your distraction very quickly just by the way the pads of your thumbs drew lazy circles over the insides of his thighs, terribly close to his member and making it impossible for him to focus on his own book anymore.

The outline of his half hard cock already was poking through the thin linen of his smallclothes, causing you to shiver with desire at the thought of pulling down the only piece of clothing that stopped you from fisting it.

“Mhh,” the purr always managed to send a shiver down your spine, the epitome of his dominance and control over you. A sly smirk on his lips indicated he had caught you staring. “What is it then? What do you want?”

You’d never been good with words, so you settled on showing him instead.

Maybe it was because you were afraid of being rejected by him, though there wasn’t a reason you should be, but you slowly and carefully crawled onto his lap. Only when there did not come any objection from him, you grew bolder, and more aroused. Especially, because you felt him hard and ready beneath you, cock nestled snugly against your mound.

With your legs parted to accommodate the width of his hips, the silk of your nightgown was rucked up around your hips, revealing the dampened spot in the front of your smallclothes to him.

It seemed as if he had not lowered his eyebrow once ever since you had placed your book aside, this time looking at you with an expression that was just screaming ‘are you serious?’

You blushed under his intense gaze, more so when you noticed the purple of his eye completely eclipsed by black.

Your hands flew to his shoulders for leverage and his found solace on your hips as you started to rub your hips against his, his gaze not leaving your body once though he was not quite sure where to keep it–flickering from your face to your breasts to your womanhood and back up again.

It was the first swiveling of your hips that had Aemond taking in a sharp breath in unison with you, but even if it spurred you on, you kept on grinding slowly against him.

“You truly are depraved, huh?” Aemond mused, the corner of his lips curled upwards into a smirk.

“Is it depraved that I want my husband?” You protested in feigned offense, never once stopping your movements. “... in this way?”

This had him scoffing, and instead of replying to you right away, he trailed his hand towards your clothed cunt, thumb pressing against your sensitive pearl. It happened in tandem with your hips rutting forwards, inevitably pressing further against his digit which caused you to moan, grip on his shoulders tightening.

“Tis, because you’ve read this debased shit before.”

It was not the first time you had heard him speaking like that, and the initial surprise was quickly replaced by desire. That side of Aemond often was something solely reserved to you. Outside of your marital chambers, he was the well composed Prince, second son of King Viserys Targaryen, but dropped the façade in the safety of your quarters.

And even though his words were harsh, you knew they were not meant to hurt or mock you.

“Oh, is that so?” A hint of teasing was laced within your voice. “Because I have not heard you complaining about my depravity this morning, husband.”

As you tried to still your hips, your husband was quick to squeeze your flesh and guide you along his throbbing member on his own accord, his breathing labored by now while yours was interrupted by the quietest of moans every now and then.

Your hooded eyes were fixed on his features, and you spotted the tip of his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek, clearly at a loss for words, prompting you to fuel the fire even more.

A hand left his body to brush the tresses of your hair over your shoulder, twirling it around your palm to smoothen it out. With your head slightly tilted downwards, you flashed him the most innocent look you could muster, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“As far as I am concerned, I thoroughly indulged you with it.”

Before you could say anything else, Aemond brought his hand up to your throat, applying a good bit of pressure to it while simultaneously bringing you closer to his face. A trail of goosebumps prickled on your skin, and no matter how badly you tried, the anticipation that bubbled in your stomach pushed a grin onto your lips.

You expected him to say something cold-witted in return, not letting your teasing go without a punishment, yet it did not come. The sudden kiss that followed the forced proximity was every bit as passionate and breathtaking as the kisses you had shared before, doing nothing but making you greedy for more.

Everything after that happened in a blurr.

With your hands entangled in the long tresses of your husband’s pale mane, he was the one responsible for pushing down his smallclothes to free his cock. It slapped against his lower stomach, painfully hard and begging to be buried inside of your core.

The hand that was not occupied with fisting his member made quick work of pushing the linen of your smallclothes aside to grant himself better access to your soaked cunny, and with two fingers easing into your entrance, you didn’t have any time to admire the sight of his pretty cock, pale and curved slightly to the right with a bright blush covering the bulbous tip.

“So fucking soaked,” Aemond noted, eye glued to where his fingers disappeared inside of you. “All this for me, mh?”

His fingers were working you open, while you hovered your hips above him, keeping them lifted to make it easier for his hand. Instead of replying, a shuddered breath escaped your lips, intensifying each time his fingers brushed the sensitive spot inside of you.

“S-Seven h–”

The word caught in your throat when the stretch of his fingers was replaced by his cock, one hand gripping your hip to help you lower yourself down on him. No matter how often you bedded each other, you were certain that was something you would never get used to.

It was delicious–his girth allowing you to feel every ridge and even the slight curve on your way down.

Once you were fully seated on top of him, you rocked your hips back and forth to adjust to his size and get used to the unfamiliar angle, the tip of his cock hitting spots within you that had you feeling filled to the brim.

You eventually settled forward, leaning over him to brace yourself with your arms slung around his neck, head dipping low to connect your lips in a kiss that was shy of gentleness.

While his tongue swirled around yours, your walls clenched around his solid weight inside of you. Quiet grunts of him turned into desperate growls, eagerly drowned by your mouth on his.

His forehead tipped against yours as he pulled back to catch his breath, a strained ‘move‘ slipping past his lips. The tone of his voice made it difficult for you to decipher if it was meant as encouragement or a warning, but you still obeyed.

Both his hands landed on your hips again, tightly gripping your flesh in an attempt to keep himself composed enough to not flip you over and fuck you into oblivion. You knew your pace was not sufficient for him, too slow and calculated, but with the new position, you needed a few moments to adjust, especially to the control it gave you.

Your hips moved faster, the swirling turning into grinding, and when Aemond’s head tipped back with a raspy “Fuck,” kiss swollen lips slightly agape, you felt a surge of boldness and confidence soaring through your veins.

Blissful moans started to pour from you as you built up a rhythm, tips of your fingers burying themselves into the plane of his broad shoulders. He barely hissed at the pain, too occupied dragging down the neckline of your nightgown to free your tits, one perky bud immediately embraced by his lips.

You continued grinding down on him, sucking his hard member in with each movement, sobs and moans of pleasure steadily streaming out of your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut in delight, the fire inside of you causing you to tear your eyes off the Dragon beneath.

The angle in which you ground your hips against his allowed you to rub your pearl against the base of his length, the wispy, silver hair at it massaging it enough to slowly tighten the knot inside of you.

The fire in the fireplace was almost extinguished, safe for a very few fragments of wood more annealing than burning. It made you terribly aware of the wet squelching sounds of your bodies meeting that bounced off the walls of your chambers.

When you opened your eyes again, you were greeted by a sight that was truly created by the Seven. Both of Aemond’s eyes were squeezed together, brow scrunched with the most delicious groans and grunts leaving his lips.

“Aemond,” you whined, and just the desperate tone of your voice was enough to have his lids snapping open again. He knew what you wanted, he could tell by the way your core clenched around him that you were close to peaking. And as on cue, he planted his feet firmly onto the ground and his hands at the curve of your arse.

He lifted your hips a bit to allow him to pound his own up into yours, taking over where you couldn’t anymore. “Do it,” he purred. “Let go for me.”

That seemed to be enough for the taut string inside of you to snap, the pleasure within your soaring to the point you screamed his name.

You clung to his shoulders, but yet maintained to ground yourself against him as your trembling body was determined to ride him through his own release. And with the ridges of his stomach tightening, you knew his peak was tingling just at the base of his cock, only needing a few more thrusts to spill himself inside of you.

“Gods, Aemond,” you whined, post orgasmic haze making you more vocal than normal. “Just-Just like that.”

That elicited a growl from him, the snaps of his hips increasing to the point your breathing became hiccuped, catching in your throat with little to no time to fill your lungs with air.

“That’s–fuck–that’s it,” the words were a pant, elongated and strained.

And then, his hips stuttered as he felt his cock spending itself inside of your trembling walls. He was twitching so much, it forced him to stop moving, stilling with you fully seated on top of him.

You took it in your own hands to help him through his euphoric state, rutting your hips against his. When your pearl brushed his hips yet again, Aemond scoffed at the ensuing moan that left your lips, the first sign the repercussions of his peak slowly subsided.

He leaned up, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw, his heavy breathing fanning across your flushed skin.

And as you tried to peel yourself off his lap, a sturdy arm snaked around your waist to keep you in place, your husband tutting at the feeble attempt. He leaned forwards, steadying your body with his arm, and gathered the book from the ground, handing it back to you.

A puzzled look was written all over your features, which had Aemond scoffing.

“We are not done yet,” he purred. “I want you to read to me… and we will do whatever act is described next.”

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asongoficeandfiresource · 2 years

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Alyn Velaryon and Aliandra Nymeros Martell in The Rise of the Dragon

The Dornishmen were understandably alarmed with the sudden appearance of the large Velaryon fleet in the waters off Sunspear. Lacking any strength at sea themselves, however, they chose to regard Lord Alyn’s coming as a visit rather than an attack. Aliandra Martell, Princess of Dorne, came out to meet with him, accompanied by a dozen of her current favorites and suitors. The “new Nymeria” had just celebrated her eighteenth nameday, and was reportedly much taken with the young, handsome, dashing “Hero of the Stepstones,” the bold admiral who had humbled the Braavosi. Lord Alyn required fresh water and provisions for his ships, whilst Princess Aliandra required services of a more intimate nature. Bastard Born would have us believe that he provided them, Hard as Oak that he did not. We do know that the attentions the flirtatious Dornish princess lavished upon him much displeased her own lords, and angered her younger siblings, Qyle and Coryanne. -- Fire and Blood

#alyn velaryon #aliandra martell #asoiaf #asoiafedit #asoiaf art #official art #dorneedit #martelledit #house velaryon #house martell

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lya-dustin · 5 months

Text

The Dornish Princess

Aemond x fem! Dornish!reader

Cw: mentions of murder, false identity, theft

Tag list: @valeskafics @queen--kenobi

You arrive in King’s Landing as a poor survivor of a shipwreck. All your nice things and clothes and servants and knights gone when the Wyldes found you on their lands.

The only proof of your identity was a waterlogged scroll naming you Coryanne Nymerios Martell, Princess of Dorne.

You looked the part, tan skin, dark hair and the haunting purple eyes of your Dayne mother and the manner of a gentlewoman. By the time you arrived at Court, you had been given all a woman of your station needed and letters were sent home to your sister to tell her of your rescue and invitation to court.

No one knew why your dead handmaid looked so much like you until you quietly explained she was your bastard sister and companion. But you didn’t really cry for her, she was just a bastard after all.

The bastard of Qoren Martell and a dragonseed from Lys.

“My congratulations on your betrothal, may the gods bless you and your intended, your highness.” You say quietly when you encounter the Prince Regent avoid his three and ten year old betrothed.

Little Floris Baratheon had been picked because it would be a good three years until she was old enough to be bedded, a smart move to prevent Baratheon from having too much power over the Greens and keep one’s freedom for as long as one needs it.

You were in a similar boat, your hand merited more than a vassal lord so your sister decided to sell you to the Prince of Pentos because she refused to wed. You were Aliandra’s heir; you were older than Qyle and next in line to be Princess of Dorne, you were everything Floris Baratheon and the rest of the ladies in Westeros were not.

Now it was all a matter of seducing the infamous kinslayer beside you.

His mother distrusted you, a smart decision, no one should trust you. If anyone looked too closely, they’d see it was not snake scales you wore.

“I am engaged to a child, and you are engaged to a man older than my dead father.” He said bluntly and you agreed. Both matches were bad, especially if you were a romantic at heart. It seemed the prince despite his appearance and cold exterior was one.

It wouldn’t be difficult to convince him you love him, or to make him love you. Everyone you met had that misfortune of loving you and becoming blind to your true nature.

It wasn’t the shipwreck that killed your sister, you had held her under the water until she stopped thrashing and came up with the story you fed to Lady Wylde and her company.

Aemond believed himself to be the exception to the faults of men, but he was only a man even if he rode the largest dragon since Balerion.

“A betrothed is not a spouse; the Prince of Pentos is not the first of my suitors to propose and die before the negotiations begin in earnest, you know.” You admit, hinting at the tragic and sudden deaths of all the men ---young and old--- who courted you since you first bled.

You sampled some of them when you grew older, those who didn’t satisfy you usually had hanger-ons who did, and tradition dictated that no bride prices cannot be returned should the groom die before the wedding takes place.

You had amassed quite a fortune in Essos, that was where you were heading. To find more unsuspecting men after your sister was forced to toss you out of Dorne after you slipped up and was almost caught.

Perhaps you could stay here instead. All signs pointed to the Prince Regent becoming King before the first chill came south.

If Prince Aemond was as good with his cock as he was with his sword, he’d be worth staying in Westeros.

Queen Coryanne, now that had a better ring to it than Queen Floris.

“And Lady Floris is not the first of mine to seek greener pastures.” His lips quirk slightly in amusement. He was notorious for evading matchmaking mamas and their daughters, Borros Baratheon may think a war would prevent Prince Aemond from going back on his word, but he’d never played against you.

“Shall we put it to the test?” you ask in a whisper knowing little Floris will be shuffled off to the youngest boy like an old shirt before the sun even sets.

You like him, despite it all, you cannot help but like him.

You are betrothed now, a small feast thrown in your honor as the Baratheon contingent leave and wage war against the Vulture King to spite both the Greens and Dorne at the same time.

But House Targaryen does not care, they got the better deal in you.

Gifts of money and finery and jewels were given to you by your soon to be husband, his mother and the nobles currying favor with the woman who is queen in all but name.

Your dowry would be partially paid in gold and in men. While Dorne was far less backwards than the rest of Westeros and women held equal rights like men, and end to the hostility between the realms.

“We can wed as soon as your dowry comes, my love.” he says as you lounge in your bed after a particularly trying morning. Aegon was growing weaker, Helaena and Jaehaera doing so terribly they had to be taken to the motherhouse in Oldtown to heal away from prying eyes and the need for men and heirs was as important as breathing.

Letters from Dorne had come, mainly thanking your prince and his mother for their hospitality and the promise of sending a proper envoy to negotiate the wedding. You pray the envoy comes by land instead of sea.

Who knows, perhaps Dorne would join the six kingdoms without bloodshed.

But it won’t happen.

The moment the envoy comes, you are fucked.

He won’t want you if he knew the truth. Loathes bastards, killed one even if the little fucker had his blood. Worse, you made a fool of him as you rob them all blind as you plan your escape before Aliandra exposes you as the fraud you are.

What would he do to you when he knows you are Y/N Sand and not your dead sister, Coryanne?

“Why wait, my love?” you kiss him to show how much you care for him, how little it bothers you to see him without his eye as he fucks a bastard into you as he calls you by a name you spit like a curse.

And like the lovesick fool he’s become, the two of you elope in the night. Two strangers stand witness, and you give your real name as a jape as a drunken septon names you man and wife.

Aemond will hate you and hunt you down, you know this you spend your wedding night in his rooms and see how happy you’ve made him.

“I love you, Y/N.” he breathes out and your heart catches in your throat. The boy he was under it all didn’t deserve it, but you can’t have him and no matter how much you pray for the envoy to drown, you know your past will catch up to you.

You are gone when he wakes.

Nothing, not even the furniture, is left in your rooms, nor is there a speck of gold left in the royal treasury except a valid marriage certificate signed and dated with your true name.

He will hate you, but you’d rather he hate you than ever forget you.

Part ii

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x dornish!reader #ewan mitchell

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squirmhoney · 1 year

Note

hey, i saw your oedids are open, would you write to aemond x twinsister! reader?where they get married young right after the driftmark incident, but don't consummate the marriage (aemond cuts himself with a dagger) and reveals the brothel experience to the reader, how horrible it was for him, after they try to discover each other's bodies together, just some fluff and smut

A/N: I want to apologise for the length and the fact I haven’t been able to edit it because of how long it is. Also I feel like it’s not my greatest writing. That aside I hope you like it. There are character names that are from the Martell family that are actually from the house of dragon universe. However, I don’t exactly know their age, so I imagine all the characters to be 18+.

This is more soft and gentle Aemond as I have been writing a lot of rough smut for him.

As usual my works are not for minors so Minors DNI.

Warnings: Angst. Arguments. Mentions of SA/Rape. Incest. Eventual smut. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (twin sister) Word Count: 4.8k+

Neither of you had asked for this. Before you had been married to each other, you and Aemond had been close. Inseparable even. You and Aemond would tell each other everything. Your bond was adored by all. So, of course your mother never saw an issue with marrying you two to each other.

Everything changed for the worse after your marriage. Aemond could barely look at you on the day that dreadful day. His face would twist in some sort of anger as he looked upon you. He refused to dance with you. The only person that bothered to dance with you was Ser Criston Cole. How he tried to distract you with jokes and comments of other people. Anything to keep your mind off how horrible the wedding was.

The whole event was horrific. Nothing like you had pictured your wedding to be like. You had dreamed of a beautiful wedding under the moonlight. The stars would light up the white gown you would wear as you walked arm and arm with your husband.

Then the night of the wedding came. Aemond and you were left alone in your joint chambers. He didn't even look at you as he took his dagger and cut the palm of his hand, smearing the blood onto the sheets. He stormed out of the room without a word.

For the next hour you just stared at the sheets not even noticing the tears that fell from your eyes. Your body collapsed onto the floor as you sobbed into the sheets. Your whole body was shaking as you tried to piece together what you had done for the Gods to treat you so cruelly.

Your mother would hold you in her arms every day for the next few weeks. You'd be a broken record refusing to see anyone but her or Halaena. But eventually you'd get a hold of yourself and find some sort of happiness in this loveless marriage.

While you had lost your close bond with your twin, you didn't have it all that bad. You could spend most of your days as you pleased. A lot of the times you'd spend it on dragon back or reading in the gardens. Your father even allowed you to spend days away from home to visit friends in Dorne. As long as Aemond didn't have an issue with it then no one else saw a problem. The only place you would truly forbidden to visit was dragon stone. Aemond had made that very clear when you mentioned it in front of your mother. Your mother had even backed him on those claims.

So, most of your days you were content with life.

Today you were especially happy. You had even risen early in the morning for the occasion and found yourself talking to the servants in the dining quarters. Everything had to be perfect for your evening meal tonight.

Your heart almost dropped when you reached the docks. Even though you had briefly mentioned the Prince Qyle and Princess Coryanne's visit, you hadn't believed your husband bothered to listen. But here Aemond was greeting them as they departed from their ships.

You froze almost paralysed to the core as you watched their interaction. Nothing seemed off or out of the ordinary. Instead, they all seemed to smile as they greeted one another.

Within moments Qyle noticed your figure a few metres away and a wide grin spread over his face as he called you over.

You practically ran over to him as you jumped into his arms. He caught you and spun you around. "My dragon," he chuckled, placing you down.

You leaned away the pure joy evident in your face. Your arms wrapped around Coryanne's body as you hugged her as well.

"Prince and Princess, I am so glad you could make it," you exclaimed as you let go of Coryanne. You continued to hold onto her hands completely wrapped up in the moment. "I have so much I want to show you."

"Sister," Aemond's voice snapped you out of your moment. His eye narrowed at all of you and his lips formed a tight-lipped smile. "You forget yourself and how a princess should act."

There was a brief silence as you glanced over at Aemond. This was the most he had spoken to you in months. Of course, it was to scold you on your actions.

"I'm sorry Prince Aemond," Qyle apologised, quick to come to your defence. "In Dorne we are all so open and friendly with each other. I guess you can say it has rubbed off on your dear sister. But I understand the customs are different here and we will be more appropriate now."

Aemond hummed nodding at the Qyle.

"Maybe we can see the castle gardens." Coryanne switched the conversation as she interlaced her arm with yours. She pulled you along as you walked back to the castle. "I'm quite peckish and you did promise that I'd meet your sister and mother for tea."

The rest of the day was going swell. You had spent the morning in the gardens with your sister and mother. Your mother even seemed to enjoy the company of Coryanne as she laughed at stories of the pair of you in Dorne. Qyle had sat with your sister Halaena listening to her talk about the newest insect she had discovered. He even spoke to her of the creatures in Dorne promising her that he'd bring her a Scorpion of her very own the next time he visited. Halaena had never seemed so happy at such a thought.

However, you felt tense as your brother Aemond joined. His eyes constantly watched your interactions. You felt yourself slightly closed off from your friends. Scared that if you acted in such a way, he didn't like he would forbid from you going to Dorne again. At times Dorne was the only place you could find peace. That same peace you used to be able to find with your twin brother.

Things started to get tense when you took to the courtyard. Aemond invited Qyle to practice with him and by the looks of things Aemond was taking this very seriously. His body moved swift and fast as he struck his sword towards Qyle. Luckily Qyle wasn't bad with a sword either and he was definitely faster as he worked around your brother.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your chair. You leaned over the edge of your seat.

Qyle looked slightly worn out as he ducked another one of Aemond's strikes. They were speaking to each other but from your position you really couldn't hear them.

For a moment Aemond looked back over to you. A smirk etched on his lips as he turned back swinging at Qyle full force. Qyle was clearly worn out as he fell backwards raising his hands to his side as your brother placed his blade to Qyle's neck. But as much as Qyle seemed to be surrendering your brother wasn't backing away as he continued to press his blade into Qyle's neck.

"Aemond," you shouted running down the stairs of the courtyard over towards them.

Aemond removed his sword and held out a hand for Qyle to take. Qyle took his hand and pulled himself from the floor.

"Are you okay?" You questioned rushing over to Qyle. Your eyes scanned his body and noticed the cut on his neck. Your hand reached out towards it, but Qyle stepped away from you. "You're bleeding."

Qyle gave you a half-hearted smile but turned to your brother.

"I'm sure the prince can handle a scratch," Aemond chuckled from behind you. A shit eating grin was shoved onto his face. "We should leave and get ready for later. I am in need of a bath."

Your eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed at Aemond. Did he seriously want you to return to your chambers with him?

"Wife." Aemond offered his hand for you to take. Your evident silence made him frown as he clearly grew impatient.

"I should see to our guests. I will catch up to you," you said trying to contain the clear sadness in your tone.

Aemond nodded storming away. He shoved Ser Criston Cole out of his way as he tried to get close to him. Within seconds he was gone.

You shifted uncomfortably fiddling with the sleeves of your dress. You turned back to Qyle who was standing to the side. "I'm so sorry for my brother's behaviour-"

"It's okay. It isn't your doing," Qyle reassured you a genuine smile reaching his lips. "I will return to my chambers with my sister and get ready for the feast you have promised me." He squeezed your shoulder lightly.

"I will not invite my brother. I can assure you that," you told him.

Qyle shook his head. "Your brother questions are relationship it is best to invite him to dinner. Maybe take to your rooms and comfort him. I think if you were to reassure him of our friendship then he would feel a bit more comfortable."

"I will see you at dinner." You smiled nodding your head.

As you stormed through the castle halls towards your and Aemond's shared quarter, you could feel your whole-body tense up. The anger you felt towards him at his behaviour today. You had waited for months for them to be allowed onto King's Landing. If Aemond carried on with his actions, they'd be returning on the same ship home in the morning.

The servants had almost finished filling Aemond's bath once you entered the room.

Aemond was sat to the side of the room with his eye closed. His hands clasped together, and his chin rested on top of them as if he was deep in thought.

"Leave us," you told the servants in a wobbly voice.

They barely moved as they looked over to Aemond. He gestured with his hand for them to leave and they scurried out of the room closing it behind them.

Aemond didn't move from his position or open his eye to look at you. That made you angrier as you stood there.

You grabbed the first thing you could find as you lobbed it at him. The wine glass struck him across the face, but he still didn't move.

"Aemond," you screamed, your voice cracking slightly. "Look at me."

His eye peeled open to look at you. He frowned as he grabbed the wine glass on his lap.

"What is wrong with you?" You questioned, grabbing the book beside you to launch at him. The book clattered against the wall and Aemond just stared at it.

You started gasping for breath all of sudden as tried to control yourself. Your eyes flooded with tears as you collapsed to your knees.

Aemond rushed to your side as he placed his hands around you, but you pushed him away as you began to sob.

"I never asked for this marriage," you cried not being able to look at him. "I know you never wanted it either but by the seven Gods I never believed you could be this cruel." You turned to look up at him as your eyes narrowed. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

"You don't even know who I am?" He questioned, glaring at you. "Look at you today. Flaunting around in front of that pompous prince with that dress of yours. Seriously wearing yellow. You make a mockery of me today with the way you act." He gritted his teeth as he practically spat the words at you.

His words cut deep. Immediately as you stared at him completely stunned, his expression seemed to falter.

"That's what you care about your ego. Your reputation?" You faced twisted in pure disgust.

"No, I care about the way you act with him. The prince of Dorne you so love to ride to nearly every month." His face reddened slightly with each word. "I forbid you from going to Dorne."

"I knew you'd do that," you cried launching yourself at him. Your hands punched at his chest and clawed at him. "It's my one source of happiness in this life. The one thing that I can find joy in."

He grabbed your hands and yanked them towards his chest. "I thought your happiness was me," he hissed.

Aemond's eye had glossed over as he frowned at you. His breathing ragged as he held you close to him now.

"It was you," you muttered. "But you took even that away from me the moment you married me. I know you do not love me now, but I questioned every day if you ever truly did love me."

"I love you," Aemond confessed, a tear sliding down his face.

"No, you don't, Aemond." You shook your head furiously. All your emotions were becoming too much for you at that moment. You couldn't bear to hear this before he took it away from you again.

"Yes, I love you Y/N."

"How can you say that?" You tried to tear away from his grip as pulled you in. "When you treat me like this." You broke down all over again, but this time Aemond caught you in his arms and fell down to the floor with you.

Your face fell into his chest as he squeezed you to his body. Your body shook as you sobbed into him unable to contain yourself. His hand gently stroked your hair as he gently hushed you.

"I'm sorry." His own voice came out broken and quiet. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought my actions would make you feel better. That you'd know that you'd never have to feel pressured to be stuck in this marriage with me."

"You were my brother, Aemond." You peered up at him. "You were my twin. You left me completely alone. You withdrew with me completely and all I wanted was you to be there to comfort me."

He sighed relaxing into you as he pressed gentle kisses to your forehead. "I know now what I've done. If I could go back-"

"Could back to when you left me for weeks after my wedding night so you could visit whores with our brother?" You challenged anger still boiling with in you.

His arms loosened around you as he withdrew himself from you. "Don't bring that up."

"I see-"

"No, you don't. I didn't ask to be dragged to that whore house with our brother in flea bottom," he growled, pointing his finger at you. "I didn't want any of that. You think that’s how as I boy I wanted that to happen."

You knew what he was referring to as he turned away from you.

"You could have told me," you confessed.

"I wanted to," he admitted turning his head to look at you.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was embarrassed and disgusted with myself." His face twisted slightly at the memory. Your hand cupped the side of his face as a finger traced his soft skin. "I wanted to forget that it even happened. Also, I was scared of how you would look at my after you found out."

"I would never look at you any differently." Your voice was soft and gentle as you spoke to him. "I loved you with every ounce of my soul. Nothing could have ever changed that."

"Loved?" He asked, looking down at you with a sort of hopeful expression.

"I love you still."

Aemond gripped you tightly as he pulled you towards him. His hands wrapped in your hair as he shoved his lips onto yours. You kissed him back as you tangled your own hands into his hair. Every time you would break away for a moments breath his lips would be back on yours as if he didn't want the moment to stop.

You pulled away and chuckled as you had to turn your head away to stop him from kissing you again. He buried himself into your neck as he begun to kiss there.

"Aemond," you giggled, as his lips tickled your neck. "We should get ready for tonight."

"I do need to bathe." Aemond looked over to the bath in the corner. "Maybe you should join me." His hand wondered from your hip to your chest.

You grabbed his wrist stopping him. "As nice as that sounds I think we would end up being late for dinner."

"Or not attending at all." He leaned into your neck and begun to suck on the skin there. His other hand moved to pull you onto his lap. "That sounds like a great idea."

"Princess Coryanne and Prince Qyle are my guests." Your eyes fluttered close as you allowed him to continue his antics.

His hand slid into your dress and slid the sleeve down freeing one of your tits. His face moved as he latched his mouth onto your nipple. You gasped at the sensation as your mind fogged by his actions.

"Aemond," you breathed out pushing him away from you. "Dinner first."

He smirked as he looked back up at you as you rose to your feet. You pulled your sleeve back up as you sorted yourself out.

"You will need to bathe quickly. I will change and you will come get me from my chambers," you told him trying to be serious as you sauntered over to the door. He laughed as he watched you leave his rooms.

The delight in both of your moods was evident in your wide grins when he came to collect you. His eyes gazed down your attire as he noticed your new deep purple low-cut dress. Your long hair cascaded down your back. His breath caught in his throat as he took you in.

He yanked your body close to him. "I hope this is not for that Dornish Prince."

"Oh no brother." You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "This is all for you."

He was eager to kiss you more as he leaned in, but you backed away. You shook your head at him.

"Dinner," he groaned loosening his hold from you.

"Yes."

Prince Qyle and Princess Coryanne were waiting for you by the doors of the dining room. A smile reached Qyle's lips as he noticed you so tightly embraced with Aemond.

"It looks like the something has shifted in the stars tonight," Qyle remarked pulling you both in for a hug.

Aemond awkwardly stood at the open affection. His body tensed and Qyle laughed as he let go of him.

When you walked into the dining hall, all eyes seemed to be on you. Everyone's eyes wide at how close you and Aemond were as you walked in, arm and arm together.

The conversation was light and cheerful as you all ate and drank. No jabs or awkward moments fell upon any of you. It was a beautiful scene to behold.

Your hands were interlaced with Aemond's. Your thumb gently rubbed the back of his hand in a comforting manner.

Once dinner was over you thought you could weep from joy. Your mother practically threw herself at you as she hugged you tightly. All those days she had held your sobbing body were over. The sad looks across the table as you glanced at your brother were no more. She was content in knowing you were both happy together. Finally.

Your sister was pulled away by Coryanne and Qyle as they escorted her back to her rooms. She was so deep in conversation as they listened to her that she forgot about anyone else being there.

Aemond and you returned to your quarters soon after that. When you reached in front of your rooms, you grew nervous. Your hands grew slightly clammy, and you looked anywhere but Aemond's face.

You stepped into his room as he held the door open for you. You stopped in the middle of his room, and he soon found his place behind you.

Aemond's arm snuck around your waist as he pulled your back against his chest. You could feel the outline of his hard cock against your back and you gasped slightly.

"We can take things slow. If there's anything you don't want to do or you don't feel like doing, we can stop. Just tell me," Aemond told you, his hand gently sliding up your body over your tits to your shoulders.

"I don't think I'll want to stop." You turned your head back to gaze up at him. Those soft doe eyes peering up at him through your eyelashes.

He leaned down to capture your lips with his. He turns your body as he yanks you towards his chest. The kiss is long and relentless neither of you wanting to stop. You both needed this more than life itself.

Aemond's lips eventually moved down. His hands wondered down your back as he untied the laces of your dress. Once it was loosened, he pulled it off your body slowly. His lips followed the dress as he worked his way down. His lips pressed soothing kisses in your chest but as he reached your tits, they became sloppier and frantic. His trail worked from your tits and along your stomach stopping by the bottom of your stomach.

His eye gazed up at you as he searched your face for an answer. You nodded at him eagerly biting down on your lip in anticipation. The dress dropped onto the floor as Aemond let go of it. One of his hands squeezed your plump ass while the other gently stroked your thigh.

His fingers gently stroked between your wet folds, and you gasped at the sensation. Your hand clasped around his shoulder for support.

"You're so wet for me." He brought his wet fingers to his lips and sucked on them. He hummed in delight at the way you tasted. "Make yourself comfortable on the bed for me, sister."

You listened as you crawled onto the bed. You laid down on the cushions as Aemond made himself comfortable between your legs.

His face immediately dived into your cunt drinking the juices that dripped from your core. His nose brushed against your clit, and you whimpered at the feeling. You could feel Aemond's grin as he slid his face up slightly his tongue finding your clit.

"Aemond," you moaned, your hips rising to meet his face.

With one hand Aemond pushed your hips back to your bed, and the other he used to slide against your folds.

"Keep your legs open for me," Aemond commanded. "I want to see how this feels for you okay?"

You nodded obediently. He used one of his fingers to glide into your hole. Your tight hole clenched around the finger instantly as you gasped at the intrusion. He worked the fingers in and out slowly as he watched your face. Your face contoured in pleasure and your eyes closed.

"Open your eyes for me, my love."

You did as he said. His eyes were transfixed on you in awe. His head moved down once again as his lips sucked at your clit.

The sensation became intense as a feeling bubbled in your stomach.

"Aemond," you whined unsure of what you were feeling. "Gods Aemond."

He was relentless as he shoved another finger in you. With that something snapped inside of you. Your cunt clenched around his fingers as your thighs shook with pleasure. Your hands gripped onto the sheets as you moaned out Aemond's name.

When he knew you were done, he slowly halted his movements to let you ride the feeling out. He grinned as he moved his body to hover over yours staring at your blissed out face.

"That was amazing," you whispered into his lips.

The kiss was needy as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You could taste the sweetness of yourself on his lips.

"You're wearing too much," you told him, your hand rubbing at his garments.

"Help me take them off," he said as he pulled at his clothing.

You shifted your positions as he sat on the edge of the bed, and you knelt before him on the floor. Your fingers moved up to his trousers slipping underneath the material. He lifted his hips as you yanked his trousers down.

His cock sprang free from the restraints, and you looked at it with wide eyes. Gods he was big and proud. Your hand instantly wrapped around it as you stroked it.

He hissed grabbing your wrist to stop you.

You looked up at him with pouted lips. "Do you not like it?"

"I do like it." His hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you up. "I want- I need to be inside you though."

The desperate look in his eye was all you needed as you gently pushed him back on to the bed. Your hips rested over his as you straddled him. His erection poked at your entrance and you both shudder at the sensation. You peeled away his shirt as you rested your head against his. Your nose nuzzled together as you stared deeply into each other's eyes.

His hand reached underneath you as he positioned his cock at your entrance. You slowly lowered yourself onto him biting your lip to cover the tinge of pain you felt as he entered you. He gritted his teeth as he gripped onto your hips closing his eye for a second only to open it again to look upon you.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded meekly before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He allowed you to set the pace as you slowly moved onto of him. He pressed soft kisses to distract himself from pounding himself up into you furiously. Oh, how he wanted too though. His mouth licked at your nipples eliciting a moan from you.

After a few moments the pain subsided, and you begun to ride him faster. Moans and whimpers falling from your lips as you gripped onto his shoulders. His hands helped move your hips as you rode him as he groaned into your chest.

"Gods we should have done this sooner," you howled as your cunt clenched around him. Your core practically pulled him in with every thrust you pounded down onto him.

"You take me so well, sister," he hummed, his hands playing with the soft flesh of your tits. Your lips reached down to his as you pulled him for a kiss. His fingers pinched at your nipples, and you gasped allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.

You pulled away when you felt that intense feeling once again. "Aemond it's happening again," you moaned as you tried to ride him faster, but your legs struggled to pick up the pace.

Aemond pulled you both further down onto to the bed. From this position he was able to snap his hips upwards to meet yours. His hand reached between you as his finger circled your clit.

Your cunt grips him tighter pushing him closer to his own release as well. Then as his fingers move faster you are thrown into a spiralling wave of pleasure that rips his own orgasm from underneath him. Both of you cum together as your cunt drips down on him and his seed coats your walls.

It's better than anything you could both have imagined. Your walls wrap around him perfectly as you come down. Your body drops against his not allowing him to pull out from you.

You rested into each other. Your chest against his as you laid there in silence. Both of your trying to regain control of your breath. His finger ran along the skin of your back as he tickled you gently.

"I want to get married," Aemond broke the silence.

"What?" You questioned, pulling away from him. His arm gripped your waist and pulled you into him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him confused.

"I mean we should get married again," he chuckled at your expression. His laughter stopped as he kissed you. "Properly this time the way you wanted."

"Seriously?" You questioned him.

"Yes."

You beamed up at him at the thought. Then gently rested your hand down on his chest. You both fell asleep like that your bodies interlaced with each other. Completely content in each other’s arms at last.

Within a few days you'd marry again underneath the moon and stars under the name of seven Gods for your mother's happiness. Not many would attend your second wedding but for you it never really mattered. What mattered was the man you held. Your other half. Aemond.

#aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

Text

The Colour of Blood

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Sylva Martell) Warnings: Canon typical sexism. Canon typical violence. Enemies to lovers. Smut. Word count: ~5.3k

Summary: Unity between Dorne and the realm is long overdue. While Qoren Martell is not prepared to yield his beloved country to the rule of the Targaryens, he is willing to compromise with peace. In exchange for Daeron being sent to live as a ward of House Martell, Qoren surrenders his youngest daughter, Sylva, to House Targaryen. Peace, however, is the furthest thing from Sylva's mind. Based on this request.

Moodboard by the wonderfully kind and talented @ruby-dragon

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

“Go to King’s Landing and make me proud.”

The words of her father repeat over and over again in Sylva’s mind as her carriage and the accompanying entourage make the long journey from one capital city to another. She already misses Sunspear, the air grows colder the further north they travel. The gooseflesh prickling the tawny flesh of her arms serves only to stoke the anger that has been simmering inside of her ever since her father broke the news that she is to be a ward of House Targaryen.

Since the Dornishmen helped the Triarchy to beat back the realm’s defenses in the war for the Stepstones, King Viserys has been desperately trying to unite Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Sylva knows her father will never bend the knee; Qoren Martell is too proud, but she is less than pleased with the compromise that has been struck.

A bid for peace between the two kingdoms has been proposed. Prince Daeron Targaryen is to travel to Sunspear to be hosted by her family, and in exchange Sylva will be housed under the roof of the Targaryens. A prince for a princess. Sylva hates it. She knows being the fourth and youngest child puts her in a tricky predicament. Aliandra is set to inherit her father’s position as ruler of Dorne once he passes, while Qyle and Coryanne are in the midst of being partnered with highborn suitors. She has never felt more like a spare part, something disposable to be traded like livestock in her father’s politicking.

Sylva blinks back her tears, hardens her heart and allows her fury to consume her. She decides she hates King’s Landing the moment she steps out of the carriage. She wrinkles her nose at the unfamiliar smells and shivers at the chill she feels in the air. The people are pale faced and ugly, their manner of dress looks frumpy and uncomfortable. Her heart aches for home, she wonders when she will see it again, if she will see it again.

As she is guided around the Red Keep she is startled by the lack of imagery of R'hllor. It appears to her that everyone here follows the faith of The Seven, the lack of reverence towards the Lord of Light makes her uneasy. She is shown to her quarters and immediately struck by how dull and grey everything seems, she longs for the vibrant hues of the tapestries and furnishings of Sunspear. All of the colour has been sucked out of the world here.

She is grateful, however, for the furs she finds tucked away in the armoire of her bedchamber. She keeps one clutched tightly around her shoulders throughout the welcome feast that’s held in her honour that evening.

“Are you not too warm in that, dear?” Alicent leans across, brown eyes filled with concern as she touches Sylva gently on the arm.

Sylva does her best to bite back her resentment, Alicent has been nothing but kind to her since she arrived and none of this is her fault, yet she cannot help her sullen tone as she responds. “No, I find it rather cold here, compared to home.”

Alicent nods in understanding, retreating back into her own space and continuing her meal.

The food is bland and tasteless in Sylva’s mouth. The spice of snake sauce, mustard seeds and dragon peppers are alarmingly absent on her tongue. She picks at the food on her plate, unsure of how she will struggle through it.

She is broken out of her train of thought when she feels the hot sourness of wine upon someone’s breath fill her nostrils. She turns to see the Queen’s eldest son, Aegon, leering at her.

“You know,” He slurs. “If you are cold, I have ways of warming you up.” He winks, raising his wine cup to her before taking a long drink.

She grimaces, turning away as he titters beside her.

“Oh come now, I was jesting. I thought your people were supposed to be promiscuous.”

“Enough.” Alicent warns him sternly. “Go back to your seat, or I will have Ser Criston return you to your quarters.”

Aegon huffs, obviously deflated, and slumps down into his chair.

When Sylva looks up she notices the single eyed gaze of Alicent’s second son, Aemond, upon her. It is intense and unblinking. She expects him to avert his eye, embarrassed to have been caught staring, but he continues, his expression passive and unreadable.

She is overwhelmed by the sense that if she looks away then somehow she will lose in this exchange, and so her dark eyes lock with his blue one, until Otto announces that it is time they all retire for the evening, and they shift their focus away from each other.

Sylva is glad that the day is finally at its end. She is exhausted from her travels and utterly miserable. She is unsure of how she will ever get used to it here.

As her hand reaches for the handle to the door to her bedchamber, she feels a presence lingering behind her. She turns to see Aemond hovering behind her, stoic and unreadable as he has been all evening.

She is about to ask him what he’s doing when he speaks. They are the first words she’s heard come out of his mouth since she arrived and she is surprised by the softness of his voice, a contradiction of how intimidating he appears.

“I wanted to apologise for how my brother spoke to you earlier.”

Sylva nods, giving him a tight lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “It is fine. I have heard worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” He says smoothly, keeping his arms clasped firmly behind him. Sylva wonders if perhaps there is a rod of sorts inserted down the back of his tunic, such is the rigidity of his stance. “But now you are here you will learn what it is to be a proper lady.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asks, as her eyes narrow with a combination of confusion and mild irritation at the direction this interaction is taking.

Aemond tilts his head as though thinking carefully about his response. “There is a certain depravity that is common among your people. You’ll learn what it is to be civilised here.”

The anger that has been simmering inside of her all day finally reaches its boiling point. “My people?! Isn’t it your people that marry off brothers and sisters?! I would rather hail from a land that celebrates depravity, as you like to call it, than one that operates under the illusion of propriety while brothers and sisters fuck behind closed doors!”

It is the first time she sees any visible trace of emotion on his face as his eye widens, he opens his mouth to speak but she holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I have heard enough from you. Have the evening that you deserve.”

She storms in her chambers, slamming the door heavily behind her. Her sleep is fitful that night, her surroundings too unfamiliar for her to ever drift off properly.

The next morning when she awakens, she is saddened not to be greeted by bright sunshine when she looks out of the window. The sky is overcast and bleak looking, a sight she is not used to. As her eyes scan the surrounding area of the Keep, she notices a group of men sparring and for the first time since she arrived in King’s Landing, Sylva feels excited.

Her father had trained all of his children in the use of a sword, ensuring they were all proficient fighters. It was one of the things she enjoyed most in the world. Wielding a weapon made her feel powerful.

Hurriedly, she braids her long, dark hair and dresses in breeches and a loose fitting shirt over her underclothes, before pulling on boots and rushing her way out of the castle, towards the training yard. She approaches the man she assumes to be in charge; a Knight that Alicent had introduced her to as Ser Criston Cole. He stands watching the fighting while delivering instructions.

He bows his head when he sees her. “Good morrow, Princess. Have you come to watch?”

“I’ve come to join. Where may I find a sword?”

His eyebrows raise as his mouth parts in shock. “Princess, ladies cannot join. You could get hurt.”

Sylva rolls her eyes at this. “In Dorne, women fight alongside men. There is a higher likelihood of me hurting someone than the other way around.” She folds her arms, looking at Criston indignantly.

“I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?” He says with a sigh.

“No.” Comes her flat response.

“Very well. If you can find something that fits, there’s light armour and blades over there.” He points to a shed on the other side of the yard.

Sylva nods and goes to retrieve what she needs. When she steps out she is immediately met by the sight of Aemond. He visibly bristles when he sees her.

“Cole! Surely you are not allowing her to spar? She is a woman!”

“The Princess insisted, Aemond. Who am I to deny her?” The Knight responds with a perplexed shrug.

“Well, I’m not sparring with her.” He says indignantly.

Sylva laughs, though it is mocking and without any genuine mirth. “Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“A fight against a woman would be little challenge.” Aemond says haughtily.

“Prove it.” She counters. “Unless you really are scared?”

Aemond’s nostrils flare as he exhales with irritation. “Fine.”

He raises his weapon, and widens his stance. Sylva does the same.

Aemond swings at her, always ensuring to keep her clear of his blind side; he is quick, but not quick enough for her.

Sylva laughs as Aemond's eye widens in surprise as she rounds on him with her sword, beating him backwards.

"No wonder your uncle lost so spectacularly to my father if this is how you Targaryens fight." She hisses.

Aemond's nostrils flare again, a noise low in his throat rumbles, indicative of anger. "I am not my uncle!" He seethes, charging at her.

She blocks his attack with her shield, discarding the now useless wood as it splinters beneath his blade. The impact causes Aemond to stumble back a little and Sylva seizes the opportunity to square up to him in his vulnerable position, the tip of her sword mere inches from touching his throat.

"Well met, Princess." Criston calls from across the training yard, signalling the end of her and Aemond's sparring.

"That isn't fair!" Aemond calls out to him. "She didn't best me, I tripped!"

"You didn't trip, you lost." She smirks, bumping his shoulder with hers as she moves past him towards the training yard shed to discard her light armour.

She hears Aemond enter behind her a few moments later and begin to remove his own. Feeling his gaze upon her now she is just in her undershirt, she turns to face him, eyes narrowed.

"What are you staring at?"

Aemond huffs, facing away. "Nothing. Merely surprised there isn't the body of a man hidden beneath your armour."

She scowls, snatching up her clothes and moving to leave, she will dress in her quarters she decides. She pauses as she reaches the door, casting a look at Aemond as he stands in a similar state of undress.

"I am surprised to see there is the waist of a woman hidden beneath yours."

As she bathes in preparation for dinner that evening, she casts her mind back to how Aemond had looked at her earlier. She smiles at the thought, knowing she had clearly flustered him. She wishes to rile him further.

Braving the chill she feels in the air, she opts to leave her fur behind when she heads down for the evening meal. Her long, flowing silk gown cuts in at the waist and leaves her shoulders bare. It is a style that is common in Dorne, but Sylva knows it would be considered entirely inappropriate in King’s Landing. The only reaction she cares about though is Aemond’s.

She sweeps into the dining hall, her raven tresses loose around her shoulders, as the skirt of her dress billows behind her. She smirks, feeling all eyes upon her as she takes her seat.

“It is good to see you aren’t feeling the cold so much today.” Alicent offers with a tight smile.

“Yes, I worked up quite a sweat beating Aemond in the training yard earlier.”

She turns from Alicent to him, catching the way his eye flashes up from her chest towards her face, the faintest tint of pink in his cheeks.

The dress was clearly having its desired effect. Good.

He clears his throat, turning his attention to his plate, ignoring his mother’s questioning stare. The rest of the meal passes in silence, though every time she glances towards Aemond, his eye is fixed upon her. He doesn’t dare to entertain the notion of yesterday’s staring contest, this time whenever she catches him he looks away.

Sylva goes to bed that evening with the smug satisfaction of knowing she has bested a Targaryen Prince twice that day.

Disappointed to see the training yard empty from her window the next morning, she decides to explore the Red Keep. She remembers little from the brief tour she was given on her day of arrival, her mood was too sullen to listen properly.

Her fingertips trail along the cool stone of the corridor walls as she wanders, until eventually she finds a set of large oaken doors. She pushes one open, slipping through to be met by the sight of floor to ceiling rows of books. She studies the titles on each of the spines, awed by the sheer number of tomes a single room can encompass.

“What brings you to the library?”

She startles, broken from her thoughts and looks to see Aemond seated in an armchair by the fireplace, a book cradled in his long fingers.

She scowls. Sylva does not enjoy being taken by surprise. “I don’t see how that is your business.”

“I hadn’t realised you Dornish could read.” He says with an amused smirk.

“Fuck off.” She spits, turning to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond stands from his chair. “I…owe you an apology.”

Sylva quirks an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“For…everything, I suppose. The manner in which I have treated you since you arrived has not been befitting of a Prince. Forgive me.”

“I’ll try.” She says, a hint of a smile playing upon her lips.

She is certain she sees the faintest flicker of one of his own tug at Aemond’s mouth, and then he speaks again. “You fight well, Princess, your father must be proud.”

Sylva sighs, chuckling bitterly. “If my father was proud of me he wouldn’t have sent me a thousand miles away to live with strangers.”

Aemond softens. “At least yours notices you. Mine doesn’t seem to realise I exist.”

“I am a spare.” She shrugs. “My oldest sister will rule Dorne in my father’s wake, my other siblings will marry into highborn families. I have been sent here purely for my father’s benefit, he doesn’t care about me.”

“Then perhaps we have more in common than we realise.” He concedes. “My brother will sit the Iron Throne once my father passes, an obligation he doesn’t want or deserve. Meanwhile, I study history and philosophy, train with the sword and ride the largest dragon in the world and I am overlooked.”

“Why aren’t you using any of that to your advantage?” She steps closer, her eyes never leaving him as she becomes more animated. “Like you say, you ride the largest dragon in the world and yet you allow yourself to be fettered here, when it serves no benefit for you to do so.”

Aemond hesitates a moment, looking uneasy. “It is…improper. I have a duty to my family.”

Sylva throws up her hands. “Who cares what is proper? Well behaved people seldom make history, you claim to study it, you should know that.”

“And what about you?” He counters. “You could have fought against your father’s decision to send you here, why not take your own advice?”

“If I’d have done that I’d have missed my opportunity to torment a Targaryen prince, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

She grins and the smirk he returns is genuine. From that moment on, something between Sylva and Aemond shifts.

An unlikely kinship is struck between them, forged from an understanding of knowing they have rank without any real place in the world.

Over the course of the following month Sylva and Aemond grow closer. No longer does he object to her joining in in the training yard. Instead he asks to be paired with her, and the two learn from each other’s differing fighting styles, enjoying the challenge of attempting to best each other.

He sits beside her at meals, helping to fend off the unwanted attention of Aegon. They read about Dornish history together in the library and Aemond recites to her what he already knows, while Sylva entertains him with stories from her own personal experiences of her homeland.

Eventually, Aemond introduces Sylva to Vhagar. She has never seen a dragon before and the sheer enormity of Aemond’s leaves her speechless. She gasps at the roughness and warmth beneath her palm as Aemond guides her palm to stroke along her flank.

“You will need to meet her a few more times before she is comfortable having you on the back of her, but perhaps we could go flying together once she is?” Aemond suggests, not pulling his hand away from hers as it moves over Vhagar’s scales.

Sylva’s eyes light up with excitement. “Really? Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you like.” He smiles down at her.

“Could we go to Dorne?”

“Are you really so eager to return?”

“No.” She replies, and is surprised that she actually means it.

Her friendship with the One-Eyed Prince has brought colour into her life in King’s Landing, where previously it had been dull. The food no longer seems quite so bland. The feeling of homesickness that has sat heavily upon her chest feels like less of a burden to carry. For the first time since her arrival at the Red Keep she feels happy.

However, as the weeks press on she begins to suspect that Aemond is not fighting to his full potential when paired with her in the training yard. She no longer has to make an effort to disarm him, his attacking blows are not quite so aggressive as they once were. She is sure this is deliberate.

“Well fought, Princess.” Aemond says cordially as she knocks his sword from his hand yet again.

She throws down her own in frustration. “No, it wasn’t!” She snaps, before stalking back towards the shed. She has had enough for today and is tired of Aemond not taking it seriously.

She groans in irritation when he follows her a few moments later.

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, a trace of uncertainty in his tone as she keeps her back to him.

“Do you not think I am a worthy opponent?” She asks, peering over her shoulder at him.

“You are one of the most capable fighters I have ever seen.” He replies without hesitation.

She turns to face him fully. “So why are you letting me win? I have seen you train properly Aemond, you aren’t even trying.”

He takes a deep breath, directing his gaze towards the ground before back up to her. “You’ve never once mentioned my eye.”

Her brows pull together in confusion. “So? Why should I? It makes you no less of a man, you wield a sword better than most with the full power of sight.”

Aemond draws closer to her, the way he stares at her makes her breath hitch. In her relatively short life no one has ever looked upon her with such reverence before. “That is why I cannot bear to hurt you.” He admits softly. “No one has ever cared for me so deeply before, and I must confess, I…care for you too.”

Sylva is unsure of who moves first, but their lips meet and she feels a flutter of excitement in her belly as they kiss. His movements are uncertain to begin with, and she wonders if this is the first time he has ever kissed anyone. He learns quickly, however, a hand moving to the back of her head to tangle into her hair as his mouth works with more urgency against her own.

When they finally break away from each other, he rests his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy.

“I have wanted to do that for so long.” He whispers. “Our union will be what finally unites Dorne with the realm, and secures my brother’s succession.”

Sylva feels as though she has been submerged in ice water, she pulls back from him, hurt and anger contorting her features into a snarl. “You are no better than my father, I am just a political asset to you. I trusted you!”

She pushes past Aemond, leaving him to stare after her as she stalks back towards the Keep, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

She shuts herself away in her chambers and finally allows herself to fall apart, grieving for the life she has left behind in Sunspear, for the loss of her only friend in King’s Landing and for how utterly humiliated she feels for allowing herself to be fooled by him.

Aemond knows how much she resents being used as a pawn by her father and yet it seems to her he has had the same intentions all along. The betrayal of this stings more painfully than being passed off to the Targaryen family in the first place.

Sylva spends the next two weeks avoiding Aemond. She keeps away from the training yard, despite wanting nothing more than to run him through with a blade. She knows that would be unwise and likely cost her her own life. Dinners are an awkward affair, she keeps her eyes fixed firmly on her plate, refusing to look at him. The library becomes an area of the Red Keep that she no longer sets foot in, eager to avoid being in close quarters with the man who has broken her heart.

As the days drag on, Sylva hates that she is missing Aemond. She has no one to confide in, all of the colour has drained from her world once more, food is bland upon her tongue again. Everything that ever brought her joy in this wretched castle is so deeply entwined with him, she cannot bear it.

Apparently neither can he.

The hour grows late and she is about to climb into bed when she sees the parchment slip beneath her chamber door. Gingerly she picks it up, unfolding it and beginning to read.

My dearest Sylva,

I have never been good with words, at least not ones that are spoken, it is often why I elect not to speak at all. You must forgive me, but I was a lonely child and have not had the practice of conversing quite so eloquently as I can when I put quill to parchment. It is why I have chosen to write you this letter.

I have been raised with a strong sense of duty and honour to my family. It was not my intention to hurt your feelings when I foolishly said what I said - I shan’t repeat the words, you know of what I’m referring to. I said what I thought I ought to, not what I wanted to.

If I had been able to speak my mind I would have said that you are all I think about. You drive me to distraction. My underperformance while sparring is not entirely due to my desire not to cause you harm. When the sun catches the beautiful brown of your eyes, they turn an amber colour that looks like liquid gold, I am unable to look away and so I falter in my movements. The exceptional shade and warmth of your dark hair leaves me longing to run my fingers through it. When I touched it for the briefest of moments when we kissed, I had never felt anything softer.

I do not want our union to be a political one, though I would be remiss to deny its advantages. I am a Targaryen Prince. All my life I have never considered the possibility of existing outside of that, but you see me exactly as I am. You see beyond my title, you see all that I could ever dream of being. And I want to be all of that, for you. I see you too, and I have grown to love the hot bloodedness that comes with your vivacious nature, the stubbornness that accompanies your unwavering integrity.

For me, it is not a want to be with you, it is a need. I hope you need me too. We will have whatever future you see fit for us. The last two weeks without you have made me realise that whatever path I take in life does not matter, as long as I have you by my side. If you will allow it, I will spend an eternity earning your forgiveness for my careless words. I hope the ones you are reading at this moment serve in some way to bring you comfort.

Yours faithfully,

Aemond.

Sylva clutches the letter to her chest when she is finished reading, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage. There is only one thought in her mind; she needs to see him.

Abandoning all thoughts of sleep, she hurries from her quarters towards his, throwing open his door without bothering to knock. He hasn’t begun to ready himself for bed yet and she sees him turn towards her, startled by her sudden appearance in only the shift she wears to sleep in.

“Whatever future I see fit for us?” She repeats the line from his letter back to him.

He nods, his face hopeful as he stares at her.

“What if I want us to abandon our duties and travel the world?”

“Then we have Vhagar at our disposal to do just that.”

“What if I wish for us to remain unwed?” She steps closer towards him, eyeing him carefully.

“My love for you is more infallible than any marriage vows.”

Closing the gap between them, Sylva places her hands upon Aemond’s chest, his flesh is warm against her palms through his undershirt. “And what if I want to fuck simply for pleasure, and drink moon tea afterwards?”

His breath hitches, as his eye widens. His fingers wrap around her wrists, holding her in place against him. “If…if that is what you wish.”

“I thought you were going to teach me to be civilised?” She whispers.

“You are infuriating.” He mutters, before his mouth descends upon hers.

Desperate for each other after weeks apart, it is a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue as they move towards Aemond’s bed. As they fall back against the mattress, Aemond breaks away to kiss down the expanse of her throat and chest.

Sighing in pleasure, Sylva threads her fingers through his silken hair, shrugging her shift away from her shoulders.

Aemond seizes the opportunity to pull it down, his hands smoothing over the supple flesh of her breasts. “You are beautiful.” He breathes.

“I want you, Aemond.” She murmurs.

Each of his touches feels like it leaves a trail of fire against her skin in its wake. Desire pools, sticky and warm between her thighs. She has not felt this kind of heat since she left Dorne, it is a sensation akin to the taste of fresh fruit after weeks of starvation.

“May I touch you?” He asks timidly, his fingertips grazing the inside of her thigh.

“Please do.”

He exhales a shaky breath as the pads of his fingers make contact with the warmth of her center. “You are so soft here…”

“Have you ever touched a woman like this before?” She asks, as he drags his fingers experimentally through her sodden folds.

“No.” He admits, embarrassment heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sylva smiles, cupping his jaw and kissing his lips softly. “Lay back. I will make it feel good for both of us.”

Aemond does as he’s told and Sylva makes quick work of undressing him, tugging his undershirt over his head and pulling his breeches off.

Her mouth runs dry at the sight of his hardened length. The tip rests against his lower abdomen, flushed pink and glistening with pearlescent fluid. She wraps her hand around the shaft, stroking softly and Aemond hisses through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Gods…” He grits out. “You know it does.”

She giggles. “It will feel even better inside.”

Sylva straddles him, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down slowly. Aemond’s eye goes wide as his jaw slackens at the sensation.

She gasps at the stretch of him inside of her and once he is fully sheathed within her, she leans forward, pushing Aemond’s eye patch away from his face with her middle and forefingers.

She marvels at the way the sapphire within the socket glimmers in the candlelight.

Aemond swallows thickly. “Do you wish to stop?”

“No.” She replies with an experimental roll of her hips. “Just admiring you.”

Aemond leans up, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down to him in a passionate kiss. “You are remarkable.” He whispers into her ear, once he pulls away.

Sylva sits back up, bracing herself against his chest with the flat of her hands as she begins to rock herself against him. Every drag of his length inside of her makes her feel light headed as her breathing becomes more laboured with the effort.

Clearly growing impatient, Aemond seizes her by the hips, meeting her thrust for thrust, the pace suddenly becoming much more intense. There is an insatiable hunger within his seeing eye, Sylva can see none of its usual blue as she stares into it, it is utterly eclipsed by the dilation of his pupil.

She snakes a hand between their bodies, circling her pearl as Aemond plants his feet flat on the bed, continuing to drive up into her.

“Fuck…I think I’m going to…” Aemond trails off, screwing his eye shut and biting his lip.

The sight of him so wanton with desire beneath her, causes Sylva to clench around him, her own climax steadily approaching as she continues to work at her bud.

“Let go for me, I’m close too.” She coaxes.

His strokes become sloppier as he nears his end, his stomach muscles contracting, with one last push up into her, he stills, pulsating inside of her with a groan.

The sensation provides the added stimulus that Sylva needs to fall over the edge and she comes apart around him with a strangled cry, tightening and spasming as he spills himself inside of her.

She collapses against him, panting for breath, and they lay together in silence for a few moments, simply holding each other and recovering from their respective highs.

“You have made me the happiest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.” Aemond rasps, pressing a chaste kiss to her hairline.

“Dornish depravity will do that to you.” She says with a lazy smile.

“You are infuriating.” He chuckles, pulling her tighter against him. “But I would have you no other way.”

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 6 months

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"Hope"- Once in a lifetime chance (Midsommar AU) Chapter 3

part 3 of 4 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: More and more questions get thrown up in your mind and then all of them become unimportant as you catch Aemond doing something you never thought he would do. Leading into the last ceremony.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of character death, drugging, cheating, weird sex ritual, manipulation, people disappearing, mentions of an unhealty relationship, afab reader

series taglist: @moonlightazriel, @daenerysqueenofhearts, @bellaisasleep

general HotD taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1

(As always, if you want to be tagged in this mini-series or any other character/Series/general fandom taglist, send a comment, ask or DM my way.❤️)

Jace´s vanishing worries you much more than Aegon´s originally does. More and more questions popping into your head and going completely unanswered by Cregan and any of the other commune members. Even Aemond doesn´t seem to be alarmed by what has been happening around him. Whatever it was. He becomes more and more distant, mostly due to the fact that he had decided to write his own thesis on the same topic as Jace did, but in general as well. It just didn´t make any sense. As much of an asshole as he was at times, Aegon would never just ditch you. Neither would Jce. Where was Jace heading after he had given you the sleeping pill? And why did he look so secretive about it? What reason would Aron and Coryanne have to leave separately?

Ever since you had met them, you had never seen them without their significant other. Yet again the young women around you do their best to deviate your attention. Language barrier aside the make a point to include you in as many tasks and activities as they can. When you are not with them or sleeping Cregan makes a point to search you out. Talking and in a way connecting.

Still, at night you wish you could tell your friend about all of this craziness or you could just be home with your family again. Especially when the newborn from one of the girls keeps you up all night with its screaming and crying. You know it can´t help it, it´s still a baby after all, but that doesn´t make you sleep any better or faster.

One afternoon after preparing food with some of the other women, one of them leads you to the next ceremony. A big maypole stands in the middle of the meadow you are lead, to, but right when you want to approach it, the woman giggles and pulls you in a different direction. The two of you are being handed some sort of drink with what you think are flower petals in it.

“What is this?” Your curious question is only met by more giggles.

“It is for the ceremony. It will help you.” You look over to Aemond for reassurance that this would be fine, to find him already drinking a separate tea. Figuring that they wouldn´t give you anything truly dangerous you down the tea in one go and hand the empty glass away. All the women around your age line up around the maypole in two large circles, listening to the history given by the elder that has lead all the other ceremonies.

All of a sudden, you get pulled into one direction as the dancing competition begins. In the beginning the pulling around is the only sense of direction you get. Your heart beats out of your chest and you laugh along with the others, that one after the other fall to the ground from exhaustion. Your own breath speeds up until you fear your lungs will collapse in on themselves. Yet still something drives you to keep going regardless. The girl to your left says something to you.

“I don´t understand you. I can´t speak your language.” You force out between chuckles, but the next turn in the dance however comes natural to you and so does what she says when she repeats herself.

You gasp, never stopping to move. “I understand you!”

“Yes, you understand me!” She says back equally excited.

“I do.”

“It´s the dance!” she laughs and you agree with her.

Looking around there aren´t many more women left dancing. Only a handful still stand, the others all sitting to the side watching and clapping along.

Before long, it´s only the two of you and then there is only you. All of a sudden your body stops moving, unlike the world around you, which still spins with no end in sight. Your breath only slowly calms, unlike your heart, as you let out an unbelieving chuckle at your victory.

“We have a new May queen!” The elder proclaims.

And before your world has the chance to stop spinning, you get surrounded by women. One putting a flower crown on your head, while two others put a short cape made of flowers over your shoulders. You get hoisted up to stand upon a shield, carried by Cregan and another man whose name you don´t know. They carry you all the way up to the large table at which every meal is consumed. Where another speech is held. Your eyes only rest on Aemond, who seems nothing short of disoriented and even more out of place than before. You have a bad feeling about him, so when he leaves the table right after a red haired woman does you follow behind him. All the bad thoughts swirling in your gut. Yet still what you become privy to is a thousand times worse.

You tiptoe into the darkened hut close after him, careful not to be seen. Peeping through the door gap, you witness the older female members stand undressed in a half circle around that same red headed girl, that now lies with her legs wide spread towards the entrance. On top of her? Aemond, rutting inside of her like an animal. The sounds their bodies produce make the bile rise in your throat and tears prick at your eyes. The whole thing is just sick. The woman around the two in the middle mimic the moans that sound through the room. Your breathing grows labored, uncontrolled once more.

You press a hand over your mouth as to not give yourself away through your sobs. As if controlled by themselves, your legs carry you out of the cabin. You don´t know where to go in this still so strange place and the tears don´t let themselves hide forever. In the end you break down somewhere. Falling to your knees with no strength left to your body. The sight from that cabin has burnt itself into your brain and it hurts. It hurts so bad.

As you kneel there on the ground, you begin to feel sick so close to throwing up like you haven´t been in a while. A sheen of sweat covers your trembling body, as your lungs gasp for air through the tears. The dizziness that follows you down even more, bending you at the waist, when you feel a sset of hands lay themselves on your cheeks. Looking up, you see the women from earlier kneel down all around you. This time around however their faces are grimaces of sorrow. Corners of the mouth pulled down and eyebrows knitted together as they mimic your cries. While all this happens, across the settlement a naked and scared Aemond steps out of the cabin. Approached by two men , but before he can run, they strike him down.

When he gains back his conscience, he is unable to move. Sitting in a wheel chair, in front of the community and you.

Their eyes look up at you, but your eyes only rest on Cregan. Unable to even look at Aemond anymore, while a man starts to lead into the last ceremony.

“Today, on the day of our deity of reciprocity, we have gathered to give thanks to our treasured sun. As a gift to our father, we will give him nine lives today. As he takes, so he gives. For every new blood sacrificed, we give one of our own. Four times new blood. Four of our own and one chosen by the queen. They will die and be reborn in the great cycle. You will come into harmony with everything today.” Suddenly the disappearings make sense, but you can´t bring yourself to care anymore. Feeling numb to most of the things being said. He takes a pause to look at every single person surrounding you. Then his eyes land on Cregan, who wears a sort of crown made out of greenery.

“And you Cregan, who brought us new blood and a new queen, will be honored today for your unalloyed sense. Now, for our ninth offering. It is tradition that our beautiful queen chooses between a given new blood and a randomly chosen member of our community.”

The man goes over to something, that looks like one of those devices used to pull numbers for bingo games.

The man whose name gets called out steps in front of you. And then Aemond gets turned to you as well, to see an even bigger flower crown on your head and a cape that buried your whole body in them. It weighs you down quite a bit as you are sat on a throne on a small elevation before the rest of the people.

“These are the candidates for the ninth and final offering. We patiently await your verdict.” The elder turns to you once more.

With all the eyes on you now, you dare to look at Aemond for the first time since the incident, slowly. Unshed tears burning in your eyes and pulling the corners of your mouth down. No one says anything, and no one needs to. They know who you have chosen. He knows that you have just sealed his fate. You know it, but it is hard to feel regret over the decision.

From afar you watch the corpses of Aegon, Jace, Aron and Coryanne get put into the yellow hut that you had last seen at your arrival, next are the corpses of the elders from the first ceremony. As well as Sarah and a commune member you think is called Rickard. You saw him talk to Jace once. The last one is Aemond. Who got stuffed into the body of the bear Aegon made a comment about on your first day. When everyone is inside the wooden temple it is set alight. Once more you hear the entire commune mimic the screams and sounds of pain of the sacrifices. And as horrifying as it sounds, it is a beautiful sight to see the flames consume the wood and everything sheltered beneath it.

Turning your heavy sobs into a smile. For some reason you felt free, for the first time in a while.

#modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x reader #hotd modern au #modern house of the dragon au #midsommar au

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hyperfixatedimagines · 1 year

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The Queen & her Lady- Chapter 1

Summary: The third, unruly, unmarried, unbowed daughter of Prince Qoren Martell of Dorne is sent to King's Landing to be a lady in waiting. Initially unwilling, Princess (Y/N) soon falls for a certain Queen in green.

A/N: This starts out a few months before episode 8. It will be show divergent in that Aemond is aged up to about 17. It will be book canon divergent in regards to House Martell's support during the War for the Stepstones. This is Alicent x f!reader but there is a bit of Aemond x f!reader (mainly platonic), but heads up if you aren't down for that. I always welcome feedback and take requests so if you have any, shoot me a line.

(Y/N) had spent many a night in the great library of Sunspear. To her family it seemed as though she lived there. Her eldest sister swore (Y/N) had read every book in the Sunspear library at least twice.

She was a voracious reader but mainly she dreamed of seeing the many wonders of the world as described in the books she read. (Y/N) dreamed of adventure and discovery.

But she had been confined all her life to Sunspear. (Y/N) had been born with a delicate constitution. She had contracted a deadly fever as a young child and almost died. After many a worrisome night (Y/N)'s fever broke and she recovered. Because of this scare her father kept her much closer in fear that (Y/N) would become ill once again and he would lose his youngest daughter.

(Y/N) was not the heir, she was not even the spare as that honor belonged to her elder sister Coryanne. No, (Y/N) was the third daughter, the third in line. The best she could hope for was a good marriage to one of the lords of Dorne.

Much to her father's dismay, (Y/N) had proclaimed from a young age that she would never marry. A husband would not allow her to travel to the far corners of the world and learn from all the grandest centers of knowledge. She would be forced to have children...to stay in whatever castle her husband was lord of and confine her mind to whatever his library contained.

Qoren paid it no mind for many years...until it seemed as though (Y/N)'s oath was something she intended to keep. Many a suitor was brought in from all the great houses in Dorne. All of them brought books, some rare and some (Y/N) had never heard of, but (Y/N) would always keep the books and send the boy away.

At seventeen (Y/N) had fallen ill once again. Once again her father worried over the fate of his daughter's life. And once again (Y/N) beat the sickness and recovered faster than the maesters predicted she would.

So Qoren continued to indulge his daughter's spinsterhood. He made sure to have new books brought in from the ports every couple months for (Y/N).

(Y/N) wasn't happy in Sunspear, but it had been all she knew, it was her home. She longed for adventure, to see the world, but the day her father announced that she was to leave for King's Landing and be a lady in waiting to Queen Alicent Hightower (Y/N) felt a dread creep over her.

Why her? Why now?

Unfortunately the princess wouldn't know the true nature of the agreement, at least not until it was too late.

King Viserys longed to unite the seven kingdoms as all his predecessors had. But Dorne was a land that managed to slip through the Targaryen's fingers time and time again. So he'd try a different route, one not new to them, but one his family had not employed in some time.

He wrote to Prince Qoren. Viserys wrote of his desire to continue the peaceful relationship between them. The king offered to marry his son Aemond to one of his daughters. Qoren wrote back, sharing similar sentiments, as the Targaryens power had only grown in the last couple of years and he did not wish to plunge Dorne into another war. So Qoren accepted the marriage proposal, and told the king he'd wed his youngest daughter to Aemond. Princess (y/n) was two years Aemond's senior while Coryanne was much older. Prince Qoren also asked the King to keep the marriage between trusted individuals as he would break the news to (y/n) when the time was right. (y/n) was free spirited and did not take to the idea of marriage as easily as other girls. King Viserys understood, as his own daughter was much the same. So they agreed that to the world (y/n) would be coming to King's Landing as a lady in waiting for the Queen. She would meet Aemond, and get to know him before her father would tell her the true reason of her travels.

King Viserys informed only his wife, Queen Alicent, and his hand, Otto Hightower of the truth.

Alicent hoped the girl would take to Aemond, and that Aemond would take to her. Aemond was not as loud and brash as his brother Aegon. Aemond preferred to spend his time training with Ser Criston or reading in the keep's library. She hoped the girl would bring a smile to her son's face. Alicent longed for her children to find some form of happiness, even though she never could.

(Y/N) realized what trouble she was in when she could not fit more than six books in her final trunk. Her eldest sister had helped her pack, and of course Aliandra made sure to pack all of the dresses and finery (Y/N) didn't care for. Which left little room for her books.

She stared at the many volumes of histories and philosophy she had laid across her bed. How could she choose between them? She loved them all.

"They have books in King's Landing you know," came her father's voice from behind.

(Y/N) whirled on her feet and faced her father, who stood at the entrance of her chambers.

"What if I'm not allowed in their library," (Y/N) countered.

Her father laughed. "You're not a prisoner. You'll be one of the queen's ladies in waiting."

"There's little difference in times of strife."

At this, her father's smile faded. He sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him for (Y/N) to sit. Qoren explained that he would never send her to King's Landing to be prisoner for the dragon king. Prince Qoren added that he was only helping (Y/N) on her mission to see the world. What better place to start than King's Landing?

(Y/N) could think of a million places that would be a better start. The princess felt there was something her father was not telling her. But she didn't press. She knew a decision like this was not made lightly, and that she would have to perform her duties as a princess of Dorne. Her father had indulged her for many years, and being a lady in waiting would be better than marrying a lord and having his children.

The journey to King's Landing was tiring, and it was too long for (Y/N)'s liking. She had never been in a carriage that long. The second they stepped foot in King's Landing (Y/N) wished for nothing more than food and rest.

The Red Keep was grand but it was a bit disappointing compared to what (Y/N) had imagined. The Queen, and her children, stood outside to greet the Princess.

(Y/N) fell into the mask of propriety she had forged throughout the years. She knew the people outside of Dorne were much more conservative in their actions and words than she had grown up with. So she would play by their rules while she was there.

What (Y/N) had not counted on was the ethereal beauty of Queen Alicent Hightower. The brown- almost auburn- hair that was braided to perfection about her head left (Y/N) with a clear view of the Queen's face. And oh- what a face indeed. The Queen's eyes were large and doe-like. They were tired, an a certain sadness lingered in them but they were nonetheless beautiful. Then came the queen's full lips that looked so soft and inviting. (Y/N) realized she would have to work hard to keep her mask of propriety on tight.

(Y/N), and her family for that matter, had always known the truth of herself. (Y/N) did not care for men, that most people knew, but what they didn't know was that she deeply, deeply, cared for women. If (Y/N) was ever to know true love it would be with another woman, that (Y/N) was certain of.

And she felt it right then, standing in front of Queen Alicent. Her palms began to sweat, and she felt her throat go dry. She could not take her eyes off the Queen.

So distracted by the Queen's beauty, and by her own thoughts, (Y/N) quickly realized she had not heard all of what the Queen had said.

"...and this is Prince Aemond," the Queen finished.

(Y/N) finally tore herself free from staring at the queen and looked to who she had mentioned.

The man, though surely he was but a boy just yesterday, bent his head graciously. "Princess (Y/N), I do hope your journey was not unpleasant."

(Y/N) greeted Aemond. "Thank you Prince Aemond. My journey was a tad tiring but this warm welcome has lifted my spirits."

The Queen gave a smile as she looked between the Princess and her son. "Wonderful. Princess Heleana will show you to your quarters."

The girl, who seemed about (Y/N)'s age if not only a year younger, lead (Y/N) to her quarters as the Queen had said but not without mumbling rhymes and riddles all the way there. (Y/N) wanted to ask, wanted to know what Heleana was talking about but the way the girl seemed to be in a world of her own made (Y/N) refrain from such questions.

After Heleana had left (Y/N) in her chambers (Y/N) crashed on top of the plush bed and closed her eyes for a few brief minutes.

She awoke to a knock on her door.

"Come in," she spoke.

A moment later the Queen walked in.

"I hope you are settling in and are comfortable with the provided chambers," she said as she stood in front of (Y/N). From where the Queen stood she had to look down to see (Y/N).

(Y/N)'s hands started to sweat again. For a brief moment she let herself imagine the Queen hovering over her, looking down on her with those beautiful but sad eyes, and those soft and inviting lips. She slowly rubbed her hands along the blankets on the bed as she stood to get as much sweat off her palms as she could. (Y/N) smiled up at the Queen.

"I am indeed your grace, thank you."

The Queen gave a quick nod. "Good." Then the Queen stood there in silence for a moment, unsure how to proceed.

(Y/N) watched her. "Your grace," she began, hoping her voice would not betray her.

The Queen stepped closer. "Yes?"

"I've never...I've never had ladies in waiting," (Y/N) said. (Y/N)'s eyes had wandered from the Queen's face. "I never cared to have that many girls following me around all day. That was always something more suited to my sister Aliandra," (Y/N) continued.

Her eyes wandered down the Queen's neck, to the Queen's collarbone, then even lower to the small window of cleavage the Queen's dress allowed.

"I'm not sure I'll be any good to you, your grace," (Y/N) finished. She looked away quickly, knowing her gaze should not linger there. Not here, not in King's Landing.

This was not her home. She could not live and do as she pleased the way she had always done in Sunspear. Here she had to be alert, cautious, and above all she could not linger on the beautiful chests of gorgeous women. Especially when it is the Queen's.

The Queen smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "Your honesty is...a welcome surprise. But please do not fret over that. The other girls will help you, and the servants do most of the work anyways."

(Y/N) lifted her gaze to meet the Queen's. "You're too kind your grace."

The Queen smiled again, and again it did not reach her eyes. "We're having a dinner to welcome you princess. Please join us in twenty minutes time."

"Of course your grace," (Y/N) replied.

Then the Queen made her exit.

Once alone again, (Y/N) fell back onto the bed and covered her face in one of the pillows.

She would have to put those thoughts of the Queen aside if she was to be here long, and if she was to wait on the Queen.

Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. It was just the Queen, Aemond, Heleana, and (Y/N).

It was not at all like the dinners she was used to having, with her whole family. She was used to loud dinners with music and laughs.

Her first dinner in King's Landing was quiet, save for the pleasantries she exchanged with Aemond and the Queen. The lack of sound made the minutes feel like hours.

Aemond would not meet her gaze, Heleana mumbled more riddles to herself, and the Queen made polite conversation. (Y/N) did her best to navigate the uncomfortable silences.

"So," the Queen began, "your father mentioned in his letter that you liked to read."

(Y/N) nodded. "Indeed your grace. My days at Sunspear were mostly spent in my father's library."

The Queen turned to Aemond. "Perhaps you could show Princess (Y/N) the library here in the Keep."

Aemond looked at his mother. "If you wish it so mother."

The Queen frowned then took a drink of wine.

"Is it vast," (Y/N) asked Aemond. Not that the prince would meet her gaze.

Aemond looked down at his food. "It is."

(Y/N) pressed on. "Then I should like to see it. I brought a few books from home but I've read them more times than I could count." Then she looked to the Queen. "If it is not an imposition, your grace."

"None at all," the Queen replied. She smiled at (Y/N), clearly appreciative of the princess' efforts with her son.

The Queen declared that Aemond show (Y/N) the Keep's library after dinner. Aemond grumbled but did not protest.

Aemond kept his word and led (Y/N) to the castle library after dinner. He lit the candles in the library while (Y/N) explored the room.

The shelves were tall and filled to the brim with books. She looked around the room. This library was bigger than the one at Sunspear, but not by much.

"How is it arranged," (Y/N) asked Aemond.

"Arranged?," Aemond asked.

(Y/N) turned to Aemond, who was staring at her puzzled.

"Yes, are the histories grouped together on a particular shelf? The philosophies?... The tales of princes rescuing fair maidens?" (Y/N) joked.

Aemond did not laugh, but (Y/N) managed to pull a small smile from the grumpy prince's lips.

"I'm afraid I'm not so knowledgeable about the books on princes rescuing fair maidens, but the histories and philosophies are on that end," he said and pointed to the shelves at the far end of the room. "The religious texts, books on languages, and books about the many cities in Essos are on this side," Aemond continued and gestured towards the shelves closest to them.

(Y/n) nodded and stepped closer to the prince. "And where are the books that are discouraged and forbidden to read?" She asked with a mischievous smile on her face.

Aemond stared at the Princess for a minute, his face inscrutable. "Why do you ask?"

"Those are always the most interesting, are they not?"

The Prince returned (y/n)'s devious smile. He stepped closer to the princess. "My favorite section, the dragon texts," he said getting closer. "..are there," he finished and pointed to the shelves just above (Y/N)'s head. "Though they aren't quite suitable for a princess to read."

(Y/N) locked eyes with Aemond. "And why is that?"

"The histories of the dragons and how my ancestors tamed them aren't quite appropriate for proper ladies. They go into great detail about the dancing, singing, fighting," Aemond rattled on getting closer and closer to (Y/N)'s face. "The fucking," he finished with his face inappropriately close to hers.

(Y/N) laughed. Was he trying to intimidate her or was this his clumsy attempt at wooing her? (Y/N) stepped away from Aemond.

"Inappropriate for a lady of these lands sure, but for a princess of Dorne..." (Y/N) whirled around to face Aemond. "A light read before bed."

At this, Aemond let out a laugh. "Right, you Dornish are not so encumbered by Andal customs."

"Last I knew neither were the blood of old Valyria," (Y/N) quipped.

Aemond looked into the Princess' eyes and felt something in him stir. Then he looked away and cleared his throat. "It's getting quite late. I should escort you back to your chambers."

"Of course. Thank you for showing me the library," (Y/N) replied. She was sad she had to leave before really exploring but now that she knew where it was she would have to find a moment to sneak away and return.

So Aemond walked the Dornish princess back to her chambers. The walk was quiet but not in an uncomfortable sense. (Y/N) was pleased to find out that the prince was not so dour and boring as she had feared upon first meeting. And Aemond was intrigued by the princess' playful nature.

Once the two stood outside the princess' chambers, Aemond bid the princess goodnight.

"Good night, zaldrīzes dārilaros (dragon prince)," (Y/N) replied before quickly slipping behind her chamber door.

Aemond stood outside the large brown door with yet another smile on his face. The princess piqued more and more of his curiosity.

The following day the princess awoke to a serving girl informing her the Queen requested her presence in her chambers.

The serving girl quickly helped the princess into her own dress, and the princess hastily combed her messy mane until it was presentable.

Then she was led to the Queen's apartments.

"Good morning your grace," (Y/N) greeted as soon as she was let inside.

The Queen sat at her vanity, her hair loose about her shoulders. She smiled at the Princess, and this time (Y/N) could not detect any sadness in her eyes. "Good morning princess. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes your grace, it was as comfortable as my bed in Sunspear."

"Good, I'm glad to hear so," the Queen responded. Then she motioned for (Y/N) to approach her.

(Y/N) did so but stopped at a respectable distance.

"Do you know how to braid," the Queen asked her.

(Y/N) stomach dropped. Growing up she often dodged her sessions with the septas, and as such she was never very good at what proper young ladies and Princesses should be experts at.

"I do know how your grace, but it is skill in such endeavors that eludes me. My sisters' hands were much more adept," (Y/N) confessed.

The Queen stood up and grabbed (Y/N)'s hands. "Then we will have to practice until you are better than your sisters."

(Y/N) smiled. "I fear we will toil in vain, your grace."

"Nonsense. You're a smart girl are you not," the Queen replied.

(Y/N) nodded. The Queen sat (y/n) down on the bench of the vanity and got to work demonstrating different braiding styles.

(Y/N) did try to listen and follow along with the Queen but all she could think about was the Queen's fingers in her hair, gently braiding it. The feeling of the Queen's fingers raking through her hair flooded her mind with images she knew better than to linger on. This was not Sunspear. She could not think such thoughts.

Then when it was her time to braid the Queen's hair all she could think about was how soft the Queen's hair was. (Y/N) was careful when parting the Queen's hair and even more delicate when braiding it. She handled the Queen's hair as she would an ancient and rare tome.

The Queen was patient with (y/n)'s awkward and unskilled braiding. When needed she kindly corrected (Y/N), and then would demonstrate the correct way of doing it. (Y/N) tried hard to please the Queen and when she finally earned a praise out of the Queen's mouth (Y/N)'s whole body felt weightless.

(Y/N) loved hearing the Queen praise her so she made sure to make less mistakes with the next braiding technique the Queen showed her.

"That's it princess, just like that," the Queen encouraged.

Heat radiated all over her body when she heard the Queen's praise. She could feel her face getting redder. (Y/N) prayed the Queen wouldn't notice, and if she did notice, (Y/N) prayed the Queen was kind enough not to mention it.

Minutes that felt like hours later, the Queen informed (Y/N) that she had improved considerably in their time together. The Queen was sure the princess would be a braiding expert by the week's end.

"You honor me your grace," (Y/N) replied, her cheeks rosy and warm.

The Queen did not comment on it but she did notice the way the princess would turn red when the Queen complemented her. She did not think much of it. She figured the princess had not anticipated the Queen being capable of kindness. The Queen was no stranger to the horrible rumors that had spread of her, especially after the dagger incident on Driftmark all those years ago. She reached out for the princess' hands.

"You honor your house, princess," the Queen said and gave (Y/N)'s hands a light squeeze.

The Queen found it easy to be kind to (Y/N), easier than being kind had been for her in the last ten years. She would keep (Y/N) close, the Queen thought to herself. She would keep (Y/N) close and be kind to her. She liked the feeling that bloomed in her chest when the princess smiled at her. It almost felt familiar.

Hours later Talya walked into the Queen's apartments. "I was unable to find Princess (Y/N) your grace," Talya said with her head bowed.

The Queen set her goblet down on the table in front of her. "Did you check the library?"

Talya nodded. "Yes your grace. She was not there and not in her chambers."

"Please keep searching, and alert me when you find her," the Queen proclaimed.

Talya nodded then bowed and exited the room.

Now alone, the Queen surveyed all the food that she had requested be made for her to dine with (Y/N). All of it would now go to waste as the princess had made herself difficult to find.

Where could (Y/N) have gone to?

So the Queen stood and left her apartments to search for the princess. She let out a deep sigh. This was most impolite of the princess.

"Are you alright your grace," came a deep voice behind her.

Alicent turned. It was Ser Criston. She relaxed. "Yes, well I will be alright when we find princess (y/n)."

"Has she fled the keep?"

She stopped walking and thought about it for a second. The princess would not do something so rash, would she? She had seemed happy the last time Alicent saw her, just hours ago when she taught the princess how to braid.

"No...I don't believe so. If she's anything like princes and princesses of the Red Keep she is probably hiding away somewhere reading something she probably should not be," Alicent replied with a soft smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Ser Criston nodded. "Then let us find her at once."

Alicent agreed and off they went in search of the princess. Thankfully for them the very first place Alicent thought to look is where the princess was.

Her stomach knotted when she saw (y/n) underneath the keep's weirwood tree. (Y/N) sitting there, reading a book, with her hair falling all over the pages of the book that sat on her lap, forced Alicent to remember the many days she and Rhaenyra spent giggling and dreaming of things that could never be under that very tree.

"Leave me Ser Criston," Alicent commanded.

Criston did as his Queen asked and bid her goodbye.

Alicent slowly walked closer to (y/n), not wanting to startle her.

"That book must be awfully interesting if you left the Queen of the seven kingdoms alone to eat her meal to come out here and read it," she teased.

(y/n)'s gaze shot up to where Alicent stood. (y/n) stood up so quick the large book fell to the wayside and let out a loud thump when it landed on the ground.

"Your grace I- I was not..I mean I-," (y/n) stuttered, her face going pink.

Alicent crossed the distance between them and picked up the book. She looked down at it. It was a history of the warrior queen, Nymeria of Ny Sar. Alicent's smile dropped. She gripped the book tightly. Alicent was instantly transported back to that day in the godswood with Rhaenyra. Alicent opened the book and thumbed through the pages until she found it, the leftover edges of the page that Rhaenyra had torn out and given to Alicent. She swallowed hard.

(Y/N) watched as the Queen searched the pages of the book until she came across a part of the book where a page had clearly been torn out. The Queen carefully ran her finger over what little remained of the page.

"I'm sorry I missed dining with you, your grace. I was unaware of how much time I had spent here," (y/n) explained.

This seemed to pull the Queen out of her reverie. She closed the book and looked up at (y/n). "You must have read a hundred books about princess Nymeria. So why did this one captivate you so much you forgot your manners?"

The Queen's harsh tone caught (y/n) off guard.

"I...You are correct your grace. I have read many a history about my ancestor." (y/n) reached out for the book. "I was intrigued by this maester's account as it differs from the many I have read in Sunspear..."

The Queen quickly handed the book back to (y/n) , as if it burned her to hold it. (Y/n) opened it to the section with the page torn out.

"But I was captivated by this missing page." (y/n) ran her hand down the book. "I know what page should be here. I know how the story goes by heart."

(Y/N) looked back up to find the Queen staring intently at her.

"So I asked myself why someone tore out this page? Why this page specifically? Did it have some meaning to the person who ripped it out? Did they loathe my ancestor so much that they tore it out in rage?"

The Queen's eyes started to water. So she turned away from the princess and dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.

Princess (y/n) looked back down at the book and smoothed out the surrounding pages. "Or did they love her so much they wished to keep the page of her victory close to them forever?" (y/n) finished.

At this the Queen turned back to face (y/n). (y/n) slowly looked back up at the Queen.

"I am truly sorry I have insulted you your grace. It was not my intention to miss dining with you...I was looking forward to it actually." (y/n) felt her face heat up as the final words came out of her mouth.

The Queen softened. "It's quite alright princess. You are still adjusting to life here." She offered the princess a small smile.

This seemed to calm the princess as (y/n) let out a breath and returned the Queen's smile.

The Queen walked to the weirwood tree then sat down underneath it's leaves. She motioned for the princess to sit next to her. The princess did so.

"I know the answer to your question," the Queen said.

"You do," (y/n) replied.

The Queen nodded. "It was torn out by a spoiled, tempestuous..," the Queen began, the venom in her voice slowly fading as she stared up at the moon with a faraway look in her eyes. "...a free spirited and idealistic girl," she finished, her voice but a whisper.

Then the Queen closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them again she looked over at (y/n). (y/n) stared at the Queen with a small smile on her face.

There it was again. Something blooming in her chest.

"So it was torn out in love?" (y/n) asked.

The Queen let out a small laugh. "No, not love...something more naive."

"Hope?," (y/n) replied.

The Queen nodded. "Something like that."

"Your grace, I hope that my transgression today has not tainted any future invitation to dine with you."

(y/n) had looked forward to eating a meal with the Queen. She liked being around the Queen. In truth, she liked the feeling that radiated through her body when she earned a smile from the Queen.

"Were you anyone else, I would have said the offense was too great to forgive," the Queen said as she set the large book aside. The Queen turned to (y/n) and beamed at her. "But, seeing as how you were indisposed with such a captivating mystery I shall excuse the lapse in manners."

Without thinking (y/n) reached out for the Queen's hands. "Thank you your grace. I swear it will not happen again."

The Queen froze.

Princess (y/n) realized the impropriety of her action and quickly pulled her hands away. "Forgive me your grace I forgot myself," she pleaded and looked down at the ground, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She had just earned the Queen's forgiveness for her lack of good breeding only to commit an impulsive foolish action. Surely the Queen would not forgive her a second time.

It was improper. It was thoughtless. It was all too quickly taken back.

Alicent felt the ghost of the princess' hands on her own.

Maybe it was because they were sitting underneath the weirwood tree. Maybe it was the memories of a happier time flooding her mind. Or maybe it was the ease with which (y/n) had reached out to touch her.

But Alicent found herself wanting to hold the princess' hands.

She watched as tears fell from the princess' face. This brought Alicent back to herself.

Alicent reached out and touched the princess' shoulder.

"It's alright princess," she said.

The princess looked back up at Alicent. "That was inappropriate of me your grace."

Alicent smiled. "You are young. You were led by the boldness of youth."

She noticed the princess' shoulders relax.

"You are too kind to me your grace," (y/n) confessed.

"I am kind with too few these days," Alicent replied, a bit embarrassed at how true it was.

The princess smiled. "Then I am even more fortunate that you have blessed me with so much of it."

This time when something bloomed in Alicent's chest she realized what it was. It was something she had not felt in decades. It was something that made a chill run down her spine.

More importantly, it was something she would do anything to keep feeling.

#alicent hightower x reader #alicent higtower imagine #alicent hightower #team green #rhaenicent

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