Trials of a Tribute pt. 5
Description: You have a chat with the Dowager Queen, and Aemond fears you regret marrying a monster such as him, unknowing that you are still unaware the two of you have been married.
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You sat across from the Dowager Queen Alicent, clutching your teacup for dear life as she inspected you. Her brown eyes filled with sorrow swept over you, as she sipped her own tea.
“I do feel for you, dear girl. Being traded like an object is a cruel fate that we as women often find ourselves suffering.” She said, giving you a sympathetic smile.
You nodded, unsure of what to truly say, Aemond hadn’t been cruel to you, nor had he forced himself upon you. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it could’ve been far, far worse.
“Drink up, lest you fall pregnant within your first moon here.” The Dowager Queen urged; her lips pressed into a tight line.
Your eyes widened as you realized exactly what kind of tea this was. “Your Grace, King Aemond has not bedded me.”
Her entire body relaxed. “Thank the Seven, he is still my son.”
You assumed she feared Aemond had taken on the traits of his father and brother now that he had become king, and couldn’t blame her for it. You yourself still feared he would one day soon act upon the Targaryen need for depravity.
“His Majesty, has been very respectful, a true gentleman.” You don’t tell her of how you woke up today with your body half atop Aemond’s, his fingers splayed on your lower back possessively, the smell of parchment and eucalyptus surrounding you.
Dowager Queen Alicent nodded, a small smile on her face. “My Aemond has always been a man of honor.” Then her eyes go to your hand and her eyebrows furrow. “Did you injure yourself?”
You had worn a gown with extra long sleeves, more of a winter dress than was appropriate for the season, with the intention to hide your injury, but obviously your efforts have failed.
You held your hand close to your chest. “No, Your Grace, it’s from the Valyrian ritual.” At her look of confusion, you continued. “With the septon, and the dagger? King Aemond and I mixed our blood together. He said it was common ritual in House Targaryen.”
The dowager queen was silent for a moment, then she nodded, plastering a smile on her face. “Ah, yes, there are so many rituals, I forget them from time to time.” She glanced at Sir Criston who avoided her frantic eyes. "Sir Cole, escort Lady y/n back to her chambers, then fetch Aemond and tell him I wish to speak to him.”
You stood and took Sir Criston’s arm. “A pleasure to speak with you, Queen Alicent.”
“You as well, dear.” She called as Sir Criston all but strong-armed you from the room.
“Sir Criston, did I do something to upset the dowager queen?” You asked, as he led you down an unfamiliar hallway.
“Why do you ask that?”
“She ended our tea so abruptly, and she simply seemed to be troubled by something.”
He stopped you in front of a door you didn’t recognize. “The queen mother has many things on her mind, but I can assure you her anger sits not with you.”
You followed him into a barren room. “These are your quarters; I’d advise you to stay out of sight. We had many noblemen attempting to bring their daughters as tribute, and they are quite angry at being turned away.”
Dowager Queen Alicent had pulled you away from Aemond, leaving him to accept tributes alone, as she kindly but thoroughly interrogated you on every aspect of your life.
You bid the night a farewell and looked around the room. It wasn’t much to look at, but it had a lovely view of the gardens.
Pushing open the window, you carefully sat on the windowsill, breathing in the fresh air. You gazed down at the meticulously planted flowers, imagining how happy your sisters would be to see such a sight.
You didn’t know how long you sat there before the door slammed open, and you jumped, scooting backward, further into the room, suddenly afraid of the distance between you and the ground.
Two strong arms pulled you from the windowsill, caging you against a hard chest, the silver hair that brushed your shoulders made you relax.
“Aemond? Is everything alright?” You asked, turning your head to look at him.
His shoulders were tense, his eye filled with a frantic fear and rage. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” You said, letting out a small noise of surprise when he threw you onto the nearby bed and quickly hovered over you. Caging you in with his arms, his hair falling forward and shielding your faces.
“You were going to jump, because you couldn’t stand to be married to such a monster, but your life is mine, prūmia. No one, not even the Stranger himself, will take you from me. I care not if you call him yourself, or another attempts to, no one will separate us.” He seethed, his eye burning into yours, his voice was low and rolled across your skin like a storm, the hairs on your skin standing upright in response.
“I wasn’t trying to take my own life; I was merely admiring the gardens.” You explained, before your mind fully processed his words. “Wait, married?”
“I’m aware that my mother informed you of the true nature of what occurred last night.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “No, she said nothing. Aemond, are we married? You shouldn’t have—” You were cut off by Aemond’s warm lips brushing down your neck, stopping at your pulse point when you let out a small whimper.
His acknowledging hum vibrated against the sensitive skin. “You’re mine, I told you that. As of last night it was made true, the septon bore witness to our union, so did Sir Criston.”
“But I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew.” You protested lightly, still afraid to upset Aemond.
“Because you don’t wish to be married to a monster, I know.” He snapped, pulling back to glare at you.
You shook your head. “It’s not that at all, I don’t think you’re a monster, nor do I have any personal qualms about marrying you but, it’s not truly up to me.”
“You’re correct, it’s not up to you, it’s up to me, and I wished to marry you.” He spoke his words into your skin before he attached his lips to your sensitive spot, nipping and sucking until a red mark bloomed, its sting soothed by his tongue.
“But you shouldn’t have, I’m from a small house, there are much better options and oh…” Your voice dissolved into nothing as Aemond continued his ministrations, his fingers running through your hair, his lips latched onto every bit of exposed skin they can find.
“I’m king of the Seven Realms, I will marry who I wish.” He said firmly, his eye flickering up to yours as his lips made their way to the swell of your breasts.
Your face burned once more, and you attempted to push him away. “Aemond, please, this is not proper.”
He stopped and sat up, a distant look on his face. “You’re right.”
You sat up as well, smoothing down your hair. “Thank you, now we really must get this marriage business straightened out.”
He frowned. “Do you not wish to be queen?”
You swallowed hard. “I don’t think I have the education to be a good queen.”
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