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sapphire-writes · 11 months

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Faking It ~ modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: You and Aemond decide to fake date in order to make your exes jealous.

word count: 4.8k

note: a request fulfilled for the lovely @oneeyedvisenya! Rae, I remember you were one of the first blogs I admired and I remember squealing with joy when you interacted and followed me and now we're bestie ilysm I'll cry rn. I hope you enjoy 🩷

rating: Explicit (see more descriptive warnings under the cut)

warnings: p in v, fingering, titty sucking, choking, degradation, slight praise

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Aegon asks, frowning as you take your shot.

You glare at him before signaling to the bartender you’d like another. You’re going to need a lot of tequila to get through tonight. You’d come to your favorite club after another horrible week. The world just seemed to be against you.

“Don’t say panties to me, you sound like a pervert,” you tell him, causing Aegon to chuckle.

“Your undergarments then,” Aegon decides, bumping his shoulder against yours, “your lingerie.”

“That’s even worse,” you tell him, sucking the juice from your lime.

“It can’t be Qyle again, please,” Aegon says groaning.

You bite your lip. You hadn’t expected to see your ex-boyfriend out, he always used to tell you he hated going to bars or clubs. Yet, here he was with his mates for a night on the town, effectively ruining yours.

“You need to get laid, I’m saying that as your friend,” Aegon tells you, clasping a hand on your shoulder.

“Very funny,” you tell him.

“I’m serious. I’m always down if you need a body, just as friends,” he teases.

You’ve hooked up with Aegon before. A long time ago in the grand scheme of things. You’ve always been better as best friends. You’d been nearly inseparable since your days at university.

“You’re too kind,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at the offer.

“You’re a great shag,” he continues.

Aegon furrows his brow suddenly, placing a hand under his chin as though he’s lost in thought.

“I still don’t know how you get your leg-”

“Aegon!” you say, putting your hand over his mouth to stop him from continuing.

Aemond saddles up on the other side of Aegon, trying to get the bartender’s attention. He barely pays him any mind as he places another shot in front of you before moving to the other side of the bar to attend to other patrons. Aemond sighs, a low growl releasing from deep within his chest.

Aegon’s frown deepens at his brother’s appearance.

“What’s your problem?” he asks his brother.

The bartender returns for Aemond’s order before dashing away to retrieve your shot.

“Nothing,” Aemond says, though his sulking says otherwise.

As the bartender returns with Aemond’s drink and your shot, you dash some salt on the back of your hand, licking it up before downing the tequila. Aegon glances between you and Aemond, as Aemond sips his old-fashioned and you squeeze the juice from your second lime onto your tongue, trying to get rid of the burn of cheap tequila spreading down your throat.

“Well, as much fun as you grumps are, I’m going to go see Jace,” Aegon says, clasping a hand on your back before moving to leave.

You sigh running a hand through your hair before awkwardly glancing at Aemond. You’ve never really interacted with him much before. Sure, he was your best friend’s brother, but you’re in totally different social circles. Aemond meets your eye, glancing at you sideways. You both stay silent for a moment, unsure of what to do now that Aegon has left.

“So,” you both say simultaneously.

You give him an awkward, nervous giggle. Aemond smiles tightly, nodding for you to continue.

“So…what’s up?” you ask, nodding your head to the beat of the music that blares from the speakers.

“Not much,” Aemond says, leaning against the bar, “What’s got you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” you answer a bit too quickly, a bit too defensively.

Aemond raises an eyebrow at you, turning so his whole profile faces you. You try not to stare at the scar that runs down his face; through his eyebrow, split only by the sapphire blue prosthetic that sparkles in the low lights. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat.

“Sorry, yeah I’m a bit upset I guess,” you tell him, “My ex is here. We literally just broke up a couple of weeks ago and yet here he is, drowning in a sea of horny women.”

You click your tongue in annoyance at your confession. For some reason, you feel compelled to continue speaking.

“I guess I shouldn’t be upset though, right? I mean we are broken up but it’s like, the principle of it I guess? We were together a while, you don’t see me just jumping onto someone-”

“Why not?” Aemond interrupts your rambling.

Your lips part slightly, brows knitting together at his rude interruption.

“Why not what?”

“Why not get with someone?” Aemond asks, sipping his drink.

“Did you miss the part where I just got out of a relationship?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“Well that certainly doesn’t seem to matter to him,” Aemond tells you.

You frown, crossing your arms.

“Gee, thanks for that,” you tell him, before moving to leave the bar.

You’ve got to find Aegon, tell him what a shitdick his brother is. Aemond follows close behind as you begin to walk into the crowd.

“Hey! Shit, wait, I’m sorry,” Aemond says to you.

You barely look back, before he tugs on your arm and you turn to face him. You roll your eyes as you do so.

“See, look over there,” Aemond says, jutting his chin to the left.

You follow where he motioned, eyes landing on a beautiful dark-haired girl clad in a black bodycon dress, seated on the lap of some golden-haired guy.

“That’s Floris, my ex-girlfriend,” Aemond tells you, leaning down so he can speak directly in your ear, “We just broke up a couple of months ago. I get it.”

You watch Floris laugh and twirl a strand of hair around a delicate finger. You wonder if Aemond feels the same pain you do when you’re watching Qyle with someone else. A glance at his expression answers your question.

“It’s rough,” you tell him, nodding.

“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Aemond muses.

You snort, shaking your head.

“You sound like Aegon,” you playfully accuse.

“Yeah, I’m quoting him,” he admits, causing you to laugh.

You continue giggling, a mixture of alcohol and the ridiculousness of your ex causing you to feel like your sanity is slowly slipping away from you. You groan loudly and Aemond tears his gaze from Floris, to look down at you.

“Fuck I don’t know how to do this anymore,” you groan, “I just wish there was a way to make him regret it, without actually having to begin tragically scouting dating apps again.”

You shake your head but an idea suddenly pops into Aemond’s head.

“Maybe there is a way,” he says suddenly.

“Don’t tempt me,” you tell him but he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” he tells you, “What if you and I pretend to date.”

“What?”

“C’mon, think about it,” Aemond says, leaning closer, “You and me, together. It’ll drive Floris up the wall, I know it. And Qyle too I bet.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. You give him a once over, eyes scanning past the planes of his chest, down his dark jeans. Aemond’s always dressed in black when you see him. His black t-shit hugs the lean muscles of his chest and arms, you can see the ripple of his biceps flexing. His silver chain catches the light as you drag your gaze back up to his face.

“How do you know that?” you ask.

Aemond wets his lips, running a hand through his long silver hair. He shrugs, smugly pursing his lips.

“She was always threatened by you,” he admits.

“Me?!” you ask, eyes widening, nearly popping out of your skull.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Aemond scolds, and you feel your cheeks blooming with blush.

How on Earth were you a threat to Floris Baratheon?

“She didn’t like that you were always around,” Aemond begins, “You’re Aegon’s best friend, you’re gorgeous-”

“Am I?” you ask, a sharp laugh escaping your lips, a smile playing on your face.

Aemond hums, downing the dregs of his drink. His violet eye flickers to your face and you hope he can’t see how flushed his comment made you in the low lights of the club. It’s not every day Aemond Targaryen dishes out compliments, especially to his brother’s best friend.

“Of course you are,” he tells you, “Which is why it's perfect.”

You glance around the club, unconsciously looking for Qyle’s dark curls. You shake your head. You’re not sure what compels you to keep indulging Aemond. Maybe it’s the tequila.

It’s cause he called you gorgeous, your inner thoughts tease.

He’s simply stating facts, you tell yourself. You are gorgeous. And you would love to see Qyle squirm a bit. Even if you’re pretending.

“Okay,” you tell him, “I’m in.”

Your plan goes swimmingly.

It’s not hard to run into Floris and Qyle, you and Aemond make sure to stop by all of your favorite haunts. Aemond takes you to the bookstore downtown, with an adjoining cafe where you run into Floris and her sister Maris, who glares daggers at you the entire time you enjoy your brunch.

You take Aemond to the Water Garden museum, which Qyle told you was one of his favorite places. Sure enough, you have an awkward encounter with your former beau as he’s sketching some lilies that float by on a lapis-colored reflection pool.

Qyle’s smile falters when Aemond laces his fingers through yours, demanding you show him your favorite parts of the museum. You hate to admit it but you like the feeling of his hand in yours, how Aemond actually listens when you explain which exhibits are your favorite. He’s surprisingly easy to make conversation with and a great listener. You never felt like Qyle listened.

Your scheming pays off, both you and Aemond receive heated texts from your exes which you examine weeks later while hosting a party with the gang. The gang being Aegon, Jace, Sara, and Baela. Baela and you have been roomies since university, now sharing an apartment together. You cheers Aemond as he hands you your drink, knocking your red solo cup against his.

“You and I make a fabulous pair, if I do say so myself,” you tell Aemond, taking a sip.

“Yeah, you’re alright I suppose,” he teases and you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow.

The doorbell rings and Baela rises from the couch eagerly. You frown at her.

“You invited more people?” you ask.

Baela nods while heading toward the door.

“Just a few! Alyn from boxing and one of his friends!” she calls to you.

You roll your eyes at her. Baela loves a good party and she makes a good host. You find a seat on the couch, Aemond sitting next to you, watching as Aegon versus Sara in beer pong. When Baela reenters she’s joined by Alyn and another guy.

“Guys, this is Alyn, and his friend Cregan,” Baela introduces.

You smile politely, and all introduce yourselves. Cregan is cute. Like, really cute. Ruggedly handsome, built like a total beefcake. When his brown eyes meet yours you glance away shyly.

“Get wrecked, Sara!” Aegon cheers, successfully winning the game of pong.

“Whatever,” Sara says rolling her eyes.

“Okay let’s do doubles now, Jacey boy be my second,” Aegon says, clapping his hands on Jace’s shoulders.

Jace laughs but begins to reset the cups.

“Y/N, come on be Sara’s partner,” Aegon says, waving you over.

“Fuck you Egg, you’re a cheat I’m not playing again,” Sara says, huffing as she walks away.

She’s historically a sore loser, and she doesn’t budge even when Jace pouts and begs her to play. You stand in front of the table hands on your hips.

“It’s fine, I can take you both,” you tell them, causing Aegon to raise an eyebrow.

“Kinky bestie,” he teases and you throw the ball at his head.

He ducks, dissolving into laughter as Jace blushes.

“I’ll play,” Alyn's friend says suddenly, walking to stand next to you.

You glance at him, smiling softly which he returns with a smile of his own.

“You should know, I’m pretty shit at this game,” he admits, and you giggle softly.

“No worries, I’ll carry us,” you tease, “But beware, that one is a cheater.”

You point at Aegon, and he opens his mouth dramatically, placing a hand on his heart.

“That’s a pretty harsh accusation coming from the master of distraction,” he accuses.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, blinking innocently.

“Don’t let her fool you, Cregan,” Aegon says shaking his head and bouncing the ball against the table, “This one is known for flashing her tits if it means she can win.”

“Aegon!” you hiss, blushing furiously, “He’s lying.”

“Mhmm, we’ll see,” Aegon teases and the game begins.

While Aemond enjoys watching you play, he decides rather quickly he does not like Alyn’s friend Cregan. Specifically, the way he stands so closely next to you, and the way he seems to be so hilarious. Every laugh he steals from your lips sends Aemond’s heart racing, his blood boiling in his veins.

He stays seated on the couch for the entire game, eye never leaving you. Baela plops down next to him at one point, her gaze following his and landing on you. Aemond notices he’s being observed a second too late, tearing his gaze away and nonchalantly taking a sip of his drink.

“Mhmm,” Baela says, fighting a smile.

“Shut up,” he snaps at his cousin.

The shenanigans continue late into the night, with Sara and Jace leaving first. You raise your eyebrows at Sara. They’re not technically together, but the sparks are there. You know Jace will have to make a move soon, he just needs to get a little braver. Aegon is picked up by Rhaenyra next, he’s too drunk to drive. He places a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you help Rhaenyra lift him into her red Cadillac.

“I love you so much, you’re my best friend,” Aegon slurs.

“I love you too, Egg,” you tell him, laughing at his ridiculousness.

He sits up in the backseat looking around.

“Is this Nyra’s car? Is Nyra here??” he asks loudly, eyes wide.

“Yes you idiot, you called me!” Nyra says getting into the front seat.

“I’m so glad you’re here, my big sister!!” Aegon says, pressing his face against the leather seats, “Can we get McDonald's?”

For some reason, Aemond lingers behind as the party dies down, it's only you, Baela, Alyn, and Cregan left. As the hours get later, Alyn and Cregan finally decide to leave, but not before Cregan insists you take his number.

You’ve started picking up cups and plates, not one to find sleep easily after a rager. Baela turned in for the night, you can hear her noise machine blaring even though her room’s on the second floor. You roomed with her in college, she can’t sleep in silence. Noise machine, fan on, and she’s out like a light.

“You really got his number?” Aemond asks, from the couch across the room.

You glance at Aemond as he sits, legs splayed out, arms draped over the back of the couch. One of his large hands holds a now empty red solo cup. He taps a long finger against it.

“Who?”

“Alyn’s friend,” Aemond says, not taking his eye off you.

“Oh...Craig?” you tell him.

Shit, that is totally not that guy's name.

You frown, standing straight, a red solo cup dangling from your fingers. You put his name into your phone as an emoji of a wolf. It seemed funny at the time though you can’t remember why.

“Or Connor? Something with a C I think,” you tell him, shrugging.

“What about us?” he asks.

“What about us?” you ask, placing a hand on your hip, “Aemond, we’re not really dating.”

You move closer to him, holding your hand out to take his empty cup. Your hand nearly wraps around it when Aemond pulls it out of your reach. You narrow your eyes playfully at him, reaching once more. Aemond’s free hand wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer.

A blush creeps up your neck, heat floods your face as Aemond lets the cup fall, bringing his other hand to pull you completely onto his lap. Suddenly straddling him a gasp falls from your lips before Aemond swallows the noise by placing his lips against yours.

Holy fuck.

Aemond Targaryen is a good kisser. You admit, you thought he must be with that perfect pout on his handsome face. As you whimper against him, Aemond slides his tongue into your mouth, hands gripping your waist as you roll your hips against him.

You slide your hands around his neck, running your hands through the silky strands of his hair and letting your nails drag across the nape of his neck. He shivers against you and you do it again. Aemond’s hands slide underneath your shirt, dancing up your ribs leaving a trail of goosebumps behind at his surprisingly gentle touch.

“What were you saying?” Aemond murmurs against your mouth.

“We…” your voice trails off as Aemond moves his lips from your mouth, ghosting them across your jawbone, down the column of your neck.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, the vibrations tingling against your throat.

Aemond nips at the skin of your neck before pressing hot, wet kisses along your throat. Gods you are so wet already, squirming anxiously in his lap as one of his large hands squeeze the swell of your ass, the other continuing its exploration under your shirt, over your breasts.

“Aem-” you whimper as he palms your breast in his hand.

Gods he feels good, just squeezing and kissing you, showering you with affection.

“You like that?” he murmurs, teeth scraping against your collarbone.

“Yes,” you breathe, rolling your hips against the growing hardness you feel between his legs.

He’s packing, you can tell by the way he’s pressed against you; hard and demanding. Though you suspected as much with how tall and lean he is, by the size of his hands. You’d been thinking about Aemond a lot actually.

“What do you like?” Aemond asks between kisses, “Tell me.”

“Aemond please,” you moan, “Please keep touching me.”

“Where, baby?” he asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“Please touch my pussy,” you beg.

Aemond grins wolfishly, bringing his hand to the hem of your shirt. You release your grip on his neck as he pulls your shirt over your head. You assist him, eager to keep going as you unclasp your bra and fling it across the room.

Aemond’s eyes fall on your heaving breasts before he leans forward burying his face between them. Your head falls back with pleasure as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly on the sensitive peak. He alternates his attention between both mounds, being shamelessly lewd with the wet sounds his mouth makes. You’re desperate at this point, breasts covered in red marks, nearly soaked from his mouth.

“Aemond please,” you beg once more and he lets his hand trail up your thigh and under your skirt.

His long fingers easily slip under your lace underwear, spreading your slick folds and swirling around your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Aemond murmurs, mouth still buried in your tits.

Your head is spinning, ears ringing from pleasure as he sinks two fingers easily into your clenching center. You inhale a sharp breath as he crooks his fingers into the perfect ‘come hither’ position, determined to find your sweet spot. Which he does, with impressive speed as your eyes squeeze tightly shut, jaw slack with pleasure.

“Eyes on me,” he demands, “Don’t be rude, look at who’s making you cum.”

You force your eyes open, staring at him as fingers you relentlessly, rubbing your inner walls while his thumb rolls even circles around your clit. Pleasure blooms in your abdomen, it tingles up your spine. Your imminent orgasm sends warmth spreading through your limbs, your pussy clenching around Aemond’s fingers, a vice-like grip.

As you’re nearing the edge, breaths becoming desperate pants, Aemond slows his movements, swallowing your disappointed whine with a kiss.

“I know,” he sing-songs, so smugly, so condescendingly, “but you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

He slowly removes his fingers from your dripping cunt and wraps his hands around your thighs pushing you off of him. You stand in front of him on shaky legs, and Aemond takes in the sight of you standing in your heels and skirt, topless and marked by him.

“Take off your panties,” he softly commands.

There’s no need for him to ask you twice, you move to the buttons of your skirt, but he stops you.

“Leave that on,” he tells you.

Your hands move underneath your skirt, pulling your lace panties down slowly. Aemond moves his hands toward his belt buckle, releasing his cock as you do so. Your eyes widen, at the sight of him; fully erect, pink tip leaking with precum as he slowly runs his hand along his shaft. You can see every vein that runs along his pale cock, and you were right about him being well-endowed. He’s thick and long and your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

Aemond’s mouth quirks into a smile at your staring, before he reaches out to pull you back onto his lap. He reaches for his wallet, but it's your turn to stop him.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him, “And I was recently tested.”

“Me too,” Aemond says, “The tested, not the birth control.”

You giggle at his joke, and he grins.

“I want to feel you,” you tell him, a rosy blush blooming across your cheeks.

Aemond pulls you into another bruising kiss, as you lift your hips. You can feel the fat head of his cock kissing your slick folds, and you shiver before lower your hips onto him, engulfing him fully in your tight, wet heat. Aemond lets out a shuddering moan as he bottoms out.

Your pussy clenches around him, and you can feel him pulsating inside you like a second heartbeat as you gingerly roll your hips against him. Aemond’s jaw slacks, his violet eye blown black with lust as you begin to ride him.

He lets you for a moment, before he wraps his hands around your waist, pressing you into the couch on your back. Aemond snaps his hips against you, pulling nearly all the way out until you can just feel the head of his cock, before slamming into you once more.

Whimpers and moans fill the living room, along with skin slapping against the skin as he fucks you into the couch.

“I want you to call him,” Aemond growls in your ear, “Tell him you’re seeing someone.”

“I will,” you promise him, as he delivers another punishing thrust.

“Now.”

Your breathing stops, your heart pounding erratically in your chest.

“Aemond, no,” you whimper, as his hand wraps around your throat.

“Yes,” he tells you, kissing you sloppily eliciting another moan from you.

Thighs trembling, your pussy spasms around his thick cock and he slows his punishing pace suddenly.

“If you want to cum tonight, you’ll call him now,” Aemond tells you.

You weigh your options for a moment.

“My phone,” you choke out, motioning to the side table.

Aemond smirks, moving his hand to the back of your neck, reaching for your phone with his free hand. He hands it to you and you take it with a shaky hand.

You scroll through your contacts to find wolf boy and press the call button as Aemond lets his hand run down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and lower to play with your clit. Your pussy clenches around his still cock, desperate for him to move.

Please don’t pick up.

The phone keeps ringing, your orgasm building with each ring, each swirl of his dexterous fingers.

Please don’t pick up.

Aemond kisses your neck, your collarbone. Mumbles filthy words against your skin like a prayer.

“You like warming my cock, baby?”

Please don’t pick up.

He takes your nipple in his mouth, tugging on it with his lips, his teeth. Oh god you’re going to-

The sharp cut to wolf boy’s voicemailbox brings you back to reality. Aemond removes his fingers from your clit and you whimper with disappointment before the beep of the answering machine.

“He-hey! Hello there,” you try to sound casual, “this is um this is Y/N from the party and I just-”

Aemond sinks his teeth into the junction where your shoulder meets your neck and your jaw drops.

“I just wanted to tell you, I’m actually, um I’m-” your voice trails off, eyes fluttering shut as Aemond sucks harshly on your neck.

Aemond pulls away, a wolfish grin on his face before he plucks your phone from your hand, pressing it to his ear.

“She’s seeing someone, and she’s busy right now,” he says roughly, “Delete this number.”

Aemond hangs up, tossing your phone to the other end of the couch. Your eyes are wide as he spreads your legs wide, pressing them back into the cushions of the couch as he begins to pound into you.

The sound of wet slaps fills the room and you’re thanking every deity you can think of that Baela is a heavy sleeper.

“You liked that didn’t you?” Aemond taunts, “Calling him with my cock inside you?”

Whimpers and moans leave you with every snap of Aemond’s hips.

“Yes,” you admit, feeling a rush roll through you at his possessiveness.

“Naughty girl, you are,” he chastises, “I don’t think naughty girls deserve to cum.”

You let out a desperate whine and Aemond chuckles darkly at your disappointed reaction. You bite your lip, the delicious sting of your hamstrings paired with Aemond’s precise thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please, Aemond,” you beg, eyes glassy with want, “Please make me cum, I want you to.”

“I bet you do,” Aemond tells you, bringing a hand to rest against your throat once more, “Needy sluts, always want to cum.”

“Aem, please,” you continue to beg, voice hoarse, “I’ll be so good.”

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Will you now? That’s what I like to hear,” Aemond praises, “How?”

“I’ll be all yours, only yours,” you tell him, toes curling with the building pressure in your abdomen, “Fuck, I’m yours.”

“Hmmm that’s better,” Aemond tells you, “It’s you and me, baby.”

“You and me,” you repeat, nearly dumb with pleasure, “you and me.”

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond praises, releasing your throat and bringing his hand to play with your clit, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock.”

Your belly tightens and with a strangled cry, you’re clenching and coating Aemond’s cock and lower stomach with your release. Aemond continues to fuck your sensitive walls through your orgasm, as you run your nails down his back, holding him closer. He lets go of your legs and you wrap them around his waist.

“Cum inside me, please,” you whimper.

Aemond kisses you harshly, his thrusts becoming frantic as you feel him release deep inside of you. You whimper with pleasure, sinking your nails into his shoulder and keeping him inside you. Aemond kisses you again, more gently this time, and brushes some hair from your face.

“Holy shit,” you manage to say, and Aemond smirks.

“I didn’t plan on that,” he tells you, “but seeing you with Cregan-”

“Cregan! That was his name,” you interrupt.

Aemond furrows his brow.

“I fuck you that good?” he teases.

“I forgot his name before you fucked me,” you tell him.

“I can always try again,” he tells you.

“Maybe we can move it to my room this time?” you ask, “It is, three feet away after all.”

And that’s exactly what you do, leading Aemond into your room where he fucks you with his fingers, his cock, and his tongue until his name is the only one you can remember at all.

“Y/N?” Baela calls from the living room the following morning.

You open your eyes and turn, greeted by a sleeping Aemond Targaryen. You put on his shirt and open the door to your room, peeking your head out.

Baela stands, arms crossed, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Have fun last night?” she asks.

“Yeah…” you answer slowly.

Baela’s eyes flicker across the room and you follow her gaze. Your eyes land on your monstera plant that rests in the corner of the room, and your cheeks begin to burn as you see your bra strung over the leaves.

“Tell Aemond good morning,” Baela teases as you back into your room, and close the door.

You pad back over to your bed, sinking down onto the mattress. Aemond groans before his hand wraps around your waist pulling you closer.

“Good morning,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his.

note: HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ILYSM

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drakaripykiros130ac · 4 days

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“Ser Otto also reached out to Dorne, whose ruling prince, Qoren Martell, had once warred against Prince Daemon in the Stepstones, but Prince Qoren spurned his offer.”

- Fire & Blood, page 466

Another piece of evidence showing Otto’s political incompetence.

He arranges the usurpation of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and reaches out to Dorne of all places, where there is no such thing as imposed patriarchy, and whose ruler (the Lord of Sunpear), had a daughter as heir.

Qoren Martell’s eldest child is Princess Aliandra Martell, who succeeded him as Lady of Sunspear after his death, even though Qoren also had a son, Qyle.

Hightower has plenty of nerve, I’ll give him that. I don’t know whatever made Otto think that Dorne would ever side with usurpers and oathbreakers.

If they did decide to participate in the Dance, Dorne would have been on the side of the Blacks.

#anti otto hightower #qoren martell #aliandra martell #house martell #rhaenyra targaryen #team black #pro team black #the blacks #the dance of the dragons #canon asoiaf #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #anti team green #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #hotd #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra i

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 6 months

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Our love is god (modern!Heathers JD type!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: High school is hell. Truly. However, the one person you think will finally make it better, only makes it so much more worse.

warnings: angst, making out, death, murder, faked suicide, sexual abuse, physical violence, gun violence, afab reader

word count: 6.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

King´s Landing high school. Your own personal hell as you liked to call it in your journal. You really thought joining forces with the devils that ran it would help you get through it, but all it did was make things harder. You left your real friends and unpopularity behind for a seat at the same table as the Baratheon sisters, only to help them bully the rest of the school and focus on your looks and parties more than anything else. You dreaded seeing them every day. Floris wasn´t as bad you had to admit, she was nice. A cheerleader, but in the end she still participated in her sisters doings. Cassandra was a more devout follower. The year book committee and the boob job that mommy paid for made her think she was more than she actually was, but even she couldn´t reach the tyranny of their sister Maris. She truly was a mythic bitch. Drowning in your thoughts, one makes its reoccurring return. College will be paradise if you´re not dead by graduation.

From the side you could feel an elbow get rammed into your ribs painfully.

“Ow. What´s your damage, Maris?” You spit out the words while rubbing the sore spot on your side.

“Stop whining. You are going to go to the big frat party with me this weekend. You should be thankful.” Just hearing her tone made you want to punch her in the boob or something. Gods, you couldn´t even think straight.

“Yay, great.” You can barely hide the sarcasm in your faked excitement.

However Maris doesn´t get the chance to say anything about it as right in that moment a commotion breaks out in the back of the cafeteria. With your old friends you would have been able to just ignore it, but with the Baratheons? No chance. The four of you turn around to see Cregan Stark and Qyle Martell harassing a student you think you have never seen before, which is highly unlikely as literally everyone here had been to kindergarten, elementary school and middle school together. Despite not recognizing him, you feel an immediate yet inexplainable attraction towards him. The whole ethereal beauty that he had going on was really working for him. So much so, that when the bickering stops and a gasp rolls through the cafeteria as the stranger pulls out a gun, you aren´t even that deterred. In fact you think it´s kinda funny how the two jocks pee their pants at being shot with blanks. They deserve some push back to their constant bullying.

But even that little moment can´t lift your mood long enough to get you over the party. When Maris picks you up in her dad´s way too expensive car you already feel like sending her away again. On the other hand you might as well end your own social life then. No.

“And don´t forget the corn nuts!” Maris yells after you as you walk towards the convenience store on your way to that stupid frat party.

“Plain or bbq?” You yell back.

“Bbq!” You get your answer in the middle of the door.

Rolling your eyes so she doesn´t see it you make your way through the store grabbing the snacks and looking around until you almost run into someone.

“Oh, sorry I didn´t look where I was going.” You take a step back feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you recognize the stranger from school.

“It´s okay… You know, I´m not the biggest fan of your friend either.” He says as he grabs some snacks himself.

“What?” His statement catches you off guard quite a bit.

“I watched you… Today during lunch and how you rolled your eyes at her.” He explains as if it is nothing.

“You´ve been watching me?” You ask surprised, but with a smile on your face. “Should I be flattered or scared?”

"A little bit of both maybe?" He leans against one of the shelves. Putting on a half smile himself. A very handsome one at that. For the first time you really study him. The way his silver hair flows past his shoulders. The intense look of his right eye and the scar above his left one. The sharpness of his cheekbones, nose and chin. Until your eyes stick to his lips. Those perfect, pink lips with the sharp cupids bow.

"I can do that..." You whisper more to yourself than the lean person in front of you.

That's when the penetrating sound of a car horn and Maris screaming your name pulls the two of you back to reality.

"Better run quick. Your friend is waiting." He teases as you make your way to the Cash register. Your name rolling of his tongue in the most promising manner. Promising what? That is what you wanted to find out.

“I should.” You sigh. “But before I go… Since you know my name, it´s kind of only fair to tell me yours, don´t you think?”

“Aemond. Aemond Targaryen.” He finally introduces himself and upon hearing his last name you remember him distantly. You had talked to his sister Helaena once or twice a few years ago.

“Well, it was nice meeting you Aemond Targaryen, but I have to go appease the will of a high school tyrant now…” You shoot him a wink and get back to the car as quickly as possible.

The party, much like you thought, is a total bust. The music is complete shit, the alcohol is cheap and Maris leaves you alone to do god knows what with some frat bro almost immediately. Leaving you alone to be harassed by his friend. It all together gives you a major headache and so you leave at the first chance. Walking home still is a better option than having to bear this any longer.

You arrive there late, but the fresh air helps the headache. To your further luck, your parents are already asleep so you can go to your room directly. Writing out all your frustrations in your journal.

While you do so there is a tap on the window. Jolting out of your seat, you see Aemond standing there.

“Greetings and salutations.” He says as you open up for him to come inside. An invitation he takes instantly. “So how was the party?”

“About as good as one would think…” You scoff, closing your journal as you turn towards him.

“Ah… I bet your presence was missed greatly.” He says, the words dripping with sarcasm and making you laugh. I was nice to really laugh for the first time in a while. The two of you talk some more and somehow end the night cuddled up naked under the blankets. Remnants of both of your juices sticking to your thighs as you talk about gods know what. You honestly can´t pay much attention. Yet even post nut clarity couldn´t give you the realization that he just found out where you lived and came in through your gods damn window. Probably because his kisses kept your mind far away enough from reality.

“Maris Baratheon is one bitch that deserves to die.” He sighs.

“Killing her won´t solve anything. I say we just grow up be adults and then die.” You reply in a quiet tone. Your faces so close to each other that there is barely even an inch between you. Perfect to pull him in once more. Locking your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

The two of you fall asleep soon after. A tangle of limbs and your head tucked under his chin, on his chest. However when you open your eyes again you are alone. The only sign of Aemonds company the previous night being your own nakedness and a few marks he had left on you that would be easily covered up.

The real shock comes when you get back to school on monday. Meeting up with the Baratheon sisters as every morning, you are surprised to see only Cassandra and Floris. Who look tired. Well, Floris looks tired and quite sad. Cas looks as unbothered as ever, if not a bit happy.

“Where did you leave Maris?” You ask coming to a stop in front of them.

“Didn´t you hear? She killed herself two days ago…” Floris reveals with a quiet voice. Your heart sets out for a beat at the news.

“Yeah, where have you been all weekend?” Cas adds.

“I- I don´t know… I´m sorry for what happened with your sister. You put your sunglasses back on and leave them to find Aemond.

“Hey.” You great him with a small peck.

“What is going on? You look like someone just died.” He remarks, pulling you close to him and placing another peck to your cheek.

“My best friend just killed herself.” You murmur.

“Don´t you mean your worst enemy?” He replies with a small grin.

“Same difference.” Still bewildered by the happenings of this morning, you shake your head and then go to class with Aemond.

Only to learn then that you would all get a half day off. A half day seemed to be fairly less for a student just committing suicide in your opinion, especially one as influential as Maris, but then again she also enjoyed more fame than during her life. So at least she couldn´t complain. You felt a bit bad for entertaining that thought. Then again with how many lifes she had ruined...

Going to school after that was even worse for weeks. Everyone was romanticizing Maris´ reign of terror, Cassandra silently took over what her sister had started, or at least tried to and you? Well, you only ever got away from it all when you spent time away from it with Aemond, who seemed surprisingly chill, if not smug about the bully being out of the way. The two of you get closer quick during that time. He is the most understanding boyfriend you could have ever wished for. Even his few quirks are cute. Yet he keeps his darker sides safely tucked away from you. At least for now, he vows himself. Who would have known it could get even worse.

When you enter the school building the next day, everyone is staring at you, talking to their friends in hushed whispers. At first you assume it was the usual whispers, but when Cas comes up to you, you quickly get taught better.

“You little bitch. I never knew you were that kind of person.” She says with a wide complacent grin firm on her face.

“What are you even talking about, Cas? What the hell is going on here? What is everyone talking about?” You hiss. Gripping Aemond´s hand slightly, who seemed just as confused as you were. Though he was more successful in concealing his feelings.

“Shouldn´t you know what you did? “ your supposed friend feigns innocence. It really makes you want to slap the holier than thou look off her face.

“Just. Tell. Me.” You make sure to put emphasis on every single word.

“Qyle and Cregan are going around telling everyone you blew them.” She holds her hand in front of her mouth to hide her giggle.

Without another word, you stomp past her. Running around the next corner, where Aemond stops you.

“Hey. Hey! Angel, where are you going?” He questions. Holding you by the shoulders.

“To those stupid… fucking…” You let out an undefinable sound of frustration. “They may get away with harassing the all the girls of this entire school, but not me.”

“You have to take a breath and calm down.” He says in a low voice as to not attract any more attention.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” You seethe, but at least you stop marching through the mass of other students.

“Calm down.” He reiterates. “I already have a plan.”

Right in that moment however the bell rings signaling the start of first period. And it is pure horror. The whispers all around you echo in your head even when it is entirely silent. Teachers drone on and on about topics that you couldn´t get less of a shit about. Cassandra and Floris arent´t any help with any of it either of course. With how nice Floris tended to be it was easy to forget who they were sometimes. Time stretches endlessly until you reach home. Sitting down on your bed, you wait for the telltale sign of Aemond coming over. By now the knocking on the window doesn´t even startle you anymore. The opposite is the case. Whenever you hear it, your heart instinctively skips a beat. Just like it does now. You open the window and watch Aemond hop inside. Greeting him with one, two, three little pecks to the lips you pull him to the bed with you by the lapels of his leather jacket. Barely separating from him as you do so, you grin against his lips at the way his large hands grab your hips to pull your body close to his.

“I missed you so much.” He hums against your mouth between kisses.

“We haven´t seen each other for two hours.” You giggle. Running a gentle hand over his chest as the fingernails of the other massage his neck.

“I know and it felt like an eternity.” Aemond all but growls against your neck. Biting it lightly, before sucking a mark into the supple flesh.

You let out a trembling whine at the tingling feeling his lips chase down your spine. The needy sound followed by an amused chuckle from him.

“So, your still out for revenge?” He growls against your neck.

“Yes.” You answer just a bit more breathless than before.

“Good.” Aemond pulls away from you and throws two guns beside you on the bed. Startled by them, you jump back. Looking at the blond, who returns it with a smug expression.

“Aem, I want to pay them back not murder them!” You shriek, settling down a good bit away from the weapons. He on the other hand is eerily calm.

“Do you take german?” He asks as he sits down and takes your hands.

“French.” You answer still on edge.

“These are `Ich lüge´ bullets. My grandpa stole a shitload of them in WW2, they´re like tranquilizers. Only they break the surface of the skin enough to cause a little blood.” Aemond explains as he dumps a handful of bullets between the guns.

“So… It looks like the person has been shot, but really they are just unconscious and bleeding?” You ask just to be sure. The sight of the weapons made you feel all kinds of bad.

He nods. “We shoot Cregan and Kyle, it looks like they shot each other and by the time they regain consciousness, they´ll be the laughing stock of the whole school.”

“And what is that for?” You point to the folded paper that lies between the bullets.

“That is the cherry on top. A fake suicide note. Painting the whole thing as them killing themselves, because they knew they would never be accepted for being a gay couple.” Aemond snickers and you have to admit that the plan in all it´s simplicity sounds pretty good.

Taking your phone you send a text to Cregan. Luring him and Qyle into the woods behind the school under the guise of wanting to have a threesome with the two of them. Knowing full well it would get them where you wanted. Throwing your phone to the bed with a nervous giggle, you feel Aemond crawl on top of you. The weight of his taller frame pushing you into the mattress as his lips find yours again.

When you enter the woods and Aemond kisses you one last time, before you hide your gun and he goes to hide in the trees, your whole body trembles with uncertainty.

“Hey, Dollface.” Cregan greets you.

The two guys come to a stand about five feet away from you. “So, how are we gonna start this?” Qyle adds to his friend. Wasting no time as always.

“I thought you two could start by undressing for me.” You flutter your lashes at them, voice like honey in their ears.

“Okay.” The two of them say in unison. Nodding before they all but tearing the clothes of their body, stripping down to their boxers. The three of you count to three and right as they want to rip off the last piece of fabric down too your plan sets in action. Aemond jumps out from behind a nearby tree, the pair of you whip out the guns and aim for the half naked and afraid boys. Aemond hits Qyle right in the chest and he drops to the ground right where he stood. You are less lucky, missing Cregan by only an inch. He turns to see his friend lie on the ground, in a growing puddle of his own blood and makes a run for it. Your heart starts pounding in your chest even harder than before, if that even is possible. Threatening to break out of your ribcage as you watch Aemond´s face contorts into a grimace of anger.

“Shit! You stay here, I´m getting him.” He barks, chasing after a screaming Cregan.

It´s silent where you remain alone. Making you wonder what is going on. In the same breath your eyes fall down to Qyle´s body. The blood still pools underneath his body, prompting your thoughts run off the rails with crazy theories.

It isn´t until Aemond chases Cregan back to you, where he finally shoots him as well. The burly body flopping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With horror you see your worst theory come true. They are both dead. Aemond killed them. And you helped him. A scream leaves your lips and you throw the weapon in your hand away on instinct. Clasping your hands over your mouth as the shock seeps in.

“No. No, no, no, no.” You mumble more to yourself than anyone else really. You are frozen to the spot you are standing in and if it were up to you, you would fall to your knees then and there. But Aemond takes your hand and pulls you away from the crime scene.

You don´t come to until you are in his car, in front of your house. You feel empty, detached from reality. Your body functions on autopilot. Putting a cigarette into your mouth to even somehow try to cope with the stress of what you had just become witness to. However when you lift up the lighter, the flame licks at the skin of your palm instead. You let out an agonizing scream and tears immediately shoot into your eyes at the white, hot pain.

The funeral a week later is a rough one. Even rougher than Maris´. The way the Septon plays up the gay martyr part is unbelievable. Aemond´s presence by your side doesn´t give you any comfort any more either. You can barely look at him anymore. Over the course of the past days your mind had started to come back from what lead you there, but it also distanced itself from him. Only able to see that side of him that he had hidden so well. All you want to do is hide under your blanket for the rest of your life, instead you have to sit in that gods forsaken sept, feeling sorry for Floris and Sarah, Cregan´s half-sister and your ex best friend, who seem to be taking this the hardest. You knew that Floris and Cregan, despite him being a total goon, had been kind of on and off for a while. The two of them didn´t deserve this. Fuck, the bad conscience was eating away at you, making you nauseaus. Of course, Aemond is entirely calm. Not letting a single soul see behind the carefully strung up curtain. Even though you imagine to see the same small smug smirk in his face again that he had expressed while explaining his plan to you all those days back.

Repressing the urge to run out of the sept, you pick at the skin around your fingernails until they bleed.

Once the service is over, you get onto Aemond´s motorcycle and let him drive you home. No matter how hard it is to keep holding on to him and not dissociate the whole ride. Your mind makes up then and there, that this has to end. You have to end this.

That night when he comes over, you sit him down.

“We um… We need to talk.” You mumble. Still not meeting his eye. He had already noticed your inability to do so since that day, but until now he thought you would catch yourself again after an initial shock. A mistake he noted mentally to never do again.

“What do you want to talk about?” He feigns ignorance, though he full well has a perfect idea of what you want to talk about.

“I… We… I can´t do this anymore, Aemond.” You stammer out, your leg trembling under his hand that rests on your thigh.

“Cannot do what anymore, Angel?” His one seeing eye rests on you as intensely as ever.

“This. Us. I thought I could cope with what we have done, but I can´t. I can´t look at you like before anymore. The sight of their… bodies… still haunts me in my dreams.” You try to find the right words to express your feelings and still it feels like the severity of them doesn´t come out right.

“You can´t be serious about that.” He faltered. Despite having a feeling about what you were gonna say, he still feels floored by it. His heart hurting at your words.

“I am. I never wanted this. “ Your voice hardens as you get more confident about your decision.

“You wanted this too. You said you wanted revenge.” Aemond insists.

“Yes, I wanted revenge. I did not ask for this. Two people are dead!” You try to get through to him. To no avail.

“You didn´t seem to mind much when Maris died.” He blurts out. It´s entirely in the heat of the moment. And he regrets revealing it to you like that, but it is out nonetheless.

“What?” You shriek in response. “I thought Maris killed herse…”

The thought of the fakes suicide note for Cregan and Qyle enters your mind and you hide your face in your hands, fighting back the tears that sting in your eyes.

“Please just leave…” Your voice comes muffled from behind your hands. Opting to leave your face buried in them as you speak the defeated words.

“Angel, I am not just going to leave you. We can talk about this.” He takes your wrists in his hands and pulls them down to your lap.

“What is there to talk about? You killed three people!” You pulled your arms away from him, but his grip was too strong.

“Yes, but I did it for you.” He argues.

“How was any of that for me?” Your voice drips with disbelieve.

Aemond comes closer to you until he whispers against your lips. “They hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you.”

Then he presses his lips to yours roughly. His tongue pushes into your mouth forcefully, stunning you into an overpowering inability to act, as he pushes you against the headboard. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, making you cry out in search for help or to get him to stop. Just something, anything to make him stop. It takes several more moments for your brain to return to the situation, but once it does you start struggling with all your might. Biting his lip and kicking him away from you, finally sets you free from his assault.

“I want you to go. Now.” You say quietly but with as much certainty as you can put into your voice. He turns around and leaves. Surprisingly without another word. Yet your body stays on edge until long after he is gone.

Your arms wrapped tightly around your middle, you shiver from your nerves processing everything that had been revealed and happened. Unable to really cope with it yet. Despite not having really liked them your friends where dead and only the gods knew what Aemond would do next.

That night you get haunted by him in your dreams.

You find yourself in the Baratheon´s dark kitchen. Aemond in front of you, looking for a knife. For some reason you know Cassandra is going to be his next victim. Yet, no matter how hard you try to speak and keep him from going through with his fucked up plan, you can´t. Not a single sound comes from your lungs. With panic you watch as he grabs a dirty knife from the dishwasher and goes into Cas´ room. In the complete dark you can´t see exactly what he does, you can only see the world go dark around you seconds later, feeling like you are falling into a bottomless pit, you wake up with a gasp. Sweat soaking your pillow and your chest heaving with short heavy bursts of breath while your heart threatens to break out if it. You know you have to stop him, before what the dream is foreboding becomes reality. He is incalculable, dangerous and whatever he does end up doing next, can´t happen under any circumstances. You spend the whole day trying to make out a plan, not paying attention to any of your teachers or Floris and Cassandra. Not a single idea your brain comes up with is good enough to work. Luckily it also makes you ignore the weird looks your friends are giving you over your unresponsiveness.

Saying goodbye to them when they drop you of in the afternoon, you plan to head to your room immediately. A plan that is thwarted by your parents, who await you in the living room, worried expressions on both of their faces.

“Darling! We need to talk to you for a moment.” Your mother speaks up first. Seemingly relieved to see you alive and well.

“Sure, what´s going on?” Your mind is still half busy with Aemond when you put down your bag in front of you.

“Aemond just dropped by. Saying all these things about how we should look out for you, that he was worried for you…” Your mom´s voice is shaky as she recalls on the memories of what had happened so shortly before you arrived.

“Did he say something else?” You say passively. Inside you are boiling already. Who does he think he is?

“He said you confessed some rather alarming urges to him. That you shouldn´t be left alone with sharp objects or… or that kind of stuff.” Your father holds your mother a little tighter to calm her down again. You truly feel sorry for them. How could they know that what they have been told was as wrong as it possibly could have been.

“I´m sorry… But I´m not… That´s not true. You know I´d talk to you if there was anything going on.” You assure them.

You try to spend more time with them, but once your parents start to believe you, you make your way back to your room. Your mind is finally made up on what to do. If talking to him wouldn´t help to get him to stop killing, maybe you could shock him into it. Hopefully. He did used say, that the extreme always makes an impression. Taking your bedsheets you tie them around your body in a way that allows you to make it look like you had hung yourself. For once it would come in handy that he had never stopped texting you. Hurrying to get done before you hear that accursed knock. Tipping over the chair you use in your preparations mere seconds before he lets himself in. No matter how much you want to move or even at least open your eyes, you force yourself to stay calm. No matter how unfamiliar the air under your forcefully relaxed feet feels and your lungs hurt from the flat breaths you can allow yourself at most to take. Blissfully unaware to the gun hidden in the back of his pants, with which he planned gods know what. While he doesn´t move or breath or speak for a short moment. Frozen in a shock not deep enough to hold him for long.

It seems you have underestimated his crazy. Mentally you curse yourself out aggressively so that you almost miss him beginning to speak to you.

I can´t believe you did it.” He says in a breathy tone and you can hear his hands slap against his thighs as if he had raised them in defeat beforehand. “I loved you. Sure I was coming in here ready to kill you, but… I at least would´ve wanted to tell you about this petition the whole school signed first. Of course they don´t know what they really signed up for, but that won´t be any of their concern anymore soon. Oh Angel, it´s a shame you don´t get to see this play out anymore. I have the perfect plan. During pep rally on Friday the whole school is gonna come down and everyone in there with it. Listen to this. We, the students of King´s Landing high, will die. Our bodies will be the ultimate protest against you. A society that churns out slaves and blanks. Fuck you all.”

He was even further gone than you would´ve thought or hoped. “It´s not very subtle, but a school blowing up, that´s big. The kind of big that infects a generation. The only place Baratheons and Snows can get along is in heaven. We could´ve united them together, you and I… you left me no choice. So I will do it alone if I must.”

By now he is breathless from the passion that is no doubt not only in his voice but also his heart. The clicking of a lighter registers over the ringing of sheer panic in your ears, followed by the faint footsteps and mumbling of your mother. Aemond is quick to sneak back out the window and you are just about to open your eyes back up and take a deep breath, when the door opens behind you and your poor mothers scream can be heard throughout the entire house.

Hurrying, you untie the bedsheets with shaky hands, hurting your knees in the process of falling to the ground, but you don´t care. All you care about is getting to your mom. Hugging her weak, sobbing form to your body as tightly as you can. Soothing her as best as possible, but the damage has been done you guess and you really can´t blame her. If you would have been in her place you wouldn´t have reacted or felt any other way.

“It´s okay, mom. I´m okay, I´m still here. It wasn´t real.” It´s safe to say, that after all of that you don´t sleep well. Or at all really. How could you after Aemond has told you what would happen next. You want to stop him, feel like you have to stop him, even more so now that your plan has failed so miserably. If anything you´re under the impression of having worsened the state his soul is in.

For two whole days you have to watch school go by without anything out of the ordinary happening. Which just makes the bad feelings in your gut swirl even more intensely. Yet, at the same time, there is a strange calm inside your mind. There certainly, realistically, is very little you can do to keep Aemond from doing what he wants to do. But at least if, or rather when, you go down on Friday, you don´t go down by being by Aemond´s side, watching the smoke pour out the doors. Making s´mores over the burning remains of your dead school mates. This was sick. A whole parade of red flags. A perverted power fantasy, that you can´t believe you didn´t notice before. In those days you have more people than you are willing to count come after you, questioning how you are still alive. How did the stupid rumors always spread the fastest and furthest?

The poor guidance counselor is who almost suffers from you losing your nerves over it, on the day of. You are quick to apologize as well though.

“I am so sorry, I´d be glad to talk about this another day, now I really have something more important to do.” You let the man behind, that still opens and closes his mouth like a fish on land.

Marching through the masses of students on their way to the gym. Scared shitless, but still determined to put an end to this if you can. It was high time you pulled your shit together anyway. Finding Aemond in the boiler room, he is already busy setting up multiple explosives.

“Hey!” You pull his attention away from the dynamite.

“Greetings and salutations. Come to change your mind?” He inquired.

“No. Never! Gods, how delusional are you to think that anyone would join you in this madness! You are no better than your mother.” You take another step closer to him. The venom in your tone gets him to stay silent for once. However he still doesn´t stop fiddling with the bombs.

“Put that down, slowly and then put your hands behind your head.” You put your hand in the pocket of your cardigan to grab your fathers hunting knife in case you´d need it. Pulling it out you earn a genuinely amused chuckle, then everything goes too fast for you to react properly. Aemond kicks the weapon out of your hand, letting it slide out of your reach, and knocks you out with a few , for him very simple, movements. Sinking to the ground you barely stay conscious long enough to see him walk further into the basement of the building. Fuck. The already quiet sounds of the pep rally become even more quiet over the dull thudding in your head and then darkness claims you.

You don´t know how long you have been out once your eyes open again. Thankful for the low light of the rooms you are in, you tumble towards the direction you saw Aemond leave in. Holding on tightly to the wall or anything you can find to keep the dizziness from knocking you off your feet again. Too busy to hear your scuffling steps, you can grab the gun he had brought and laid down beside himself.

“I said put it down… and hands behind your head…” The sentence is broken up by your heavy breathing.

One of his hands shoots to the side to check for the missing gun. Raising them over his head almost immediately and turning around to you slowly.

“Angel, come on. You know you can´t shoot me so why don´t you just put down the gun and join me? I´m giving you one last chance.” His tone is still smug, but you can hear a hint of fear shine through the overconfidence.

Scoffing, you shake your head at his inability to even now be real with his feelings. “Just turn off the bombs.”

Behind his eye you can see his brain mulling over every possible outcome to this situation. Surprising you, by complying to with you have just said. Putting his hands behind his head, the feeling of the imminent danger of the situation subsides from your system and you finally hear the voices from upstairs again. Having had enough of talking you wave for him to go outside with the gun, which you hold safely in both hands. Due to everyone being still in the gym and none the wiser as to what was going on not too far away from them. In front of you Aemond pushes the big front doors open for both of you to step outside.

Standing still, he turns to you again. Eye half closed and so close to you that if either of you were to move, your lips would most definitely touch.

“You know what you need to do now.” He murmurs. The way his breath fans over your face so warm and for a moment you feel set back to the beginning of your relationship. When everything was still okay or at least as okay as it could be.

“I don´t want to have to do it.” You whisper back.

“There is no other way to end this anymore now. I am far too damaged, but you are not beyond repair. Please… Stand back now. You know it had to end this way. No matter how much you wished it didn´t.” Aemond takes a step back himself and stretches his arms out to the side.

You take a deep breath and as you take a step away from him remind yourself of everything he had done and wanted to do. Looking up at him you ask him in a voice void of emotion.

“Any last words?”

“I worship you. So much. I´ll trade my life for yours.”

With a heart heavier than it should be, you point the gun back at the man who you had thought was the only one to ever truly understand you. Then, before your brain can have the chance to think twice about it your actions, you pull the trigger.

The shot rings in your ears long after it is over. The sight of Aemond falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes, filling you with a great void of nothingness. Still you stay there for a few more minutes. Lighting yourself a cigarette and waiting for that atrocious ringing to stop. A part of you still hopes to wake up and have all of this be a nightmare, but you never wake up and the cigarette is entirely done. So you throw the damned thing away, drop the gun on Aemond´s lifeless body and get back inside where everyone is flooding the hallways.

Ignoring Cassandra´s comments and protest, you march past her, taking Floris by the hand and walk over to Sarah who is sitting alone on the stairs.

“Ladies, there is a new sheriff in town. And the way I see it, all three of us are still free tonight. So, I propose we buy snacks and watch movies at my place all night.” You say with a conciliatory smile.

The two girls look happy about the suggestion. About as happy as they can look under the given circumstances and together the three of you decide to cut the school day a bit shorter and go now.

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

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atopvisenyashill · 11 months

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The Dornish Prince Who United The Seven Kingdoms

aka my “who the hell was Myriah and Maron’s father” meta

Like many of the ruling princes and princesses of Dorne, we have very little information to go on when trying to piece together this Unnamed Prince of Dorne. It’s equal parts odd and frustrating, because this Unnamed Prince was one of the most important figures in Westerosi history and yet we don’t have a birth date, ascension date, marriage information, birth dates for his children, a death date, or even a name.

And yet this is the man who stopped Daeron the Young Dragon’s conquest of Dorne only to successfully negotiate a cease fire between Dorne and the Six Kingdoms as well as a marriage contract for his heir and daughter Myriah with Baelor the Blessed. His influence lives on in his son, Maron, who furthered his father’s peace negotiations by meeting with Daeron II and agreeing to enter the Seven Kingdoms at last - but with a Targaryen bride and more than a few concessions. Daeron’s shortsightedness in dealing with Dorne leads directly to the Blackfyre Rebellions but you can’t deny that Maron at least was a shrewd negotiator because he and his people came out of this negotiation having given up very little. Myriah, for her part, is a well loved Queen despite racism in Westeros against the Dornish, and goes on to have several children with Daeron, who she seemed to love.

So…who the hell was Maron and Myriah’s father? Well, looking at the series proper, the world of ice and fire, and fire & blood, I’ve come up with two theories on him.

Theory One: The Marence Martell Theory

Marence is the son of Aliandra and Drazenko (or possibly, he’s the son of a second husband).

Theory Two: The Qyle Martell Theory

Qyle, the younger brother of Aliandra and only son of Qoren Martell, takes the principality when Aliandra dies childless.

Let’s delve in…

The Facts

Aliandra Nymeros Martell is born in 115 AC so any siblings must be born after this date.

Aliandra's younger brother brother Qyle (and their younger sister Coryanne) is old enough to disapprove of Aliandra's flirtation with Alyn Velaryon in 133 AC.

Aliandra and Drazenko Rogare married during the Lysene Spring 134.

Drazenko died in 135 under suspicious circumstances (it's because his family was acting up see: The Fall of the House of Rogare)

Now a little bit of speculation here...

The Small Council is desperate to marry off Baela in 132 AC (when Aliandra is 17) bc she’s unruly and mean and does hot girl shit, so they’re not gonna betroth her to someone much younger than her, because they need this girl to get laid and calm down.

Qyle is brought up as a potential match. If Aliandra is 17, he could very well be 16, or near enough, and an option for her to marry. This would make his birth year 116 and make him 42 at the Submission of Sunspear.

If Marence is Aliandra's only child by Drazenko, born in 135 AC, it would make him 23 during the Submission of Sunspear.

If The Unnamed Prince of Dorne Is Marence Nymeros Martell

This is interesting for a few reasons. For one thing, it puts Marence of an age with Aegon IV, who was also born in 135 AC during the Lysene Spring as well. It makes sense that Baelor, with his cousin Aemon already on his mind due to his captivity, would see a man roughly the same age as one of his male cousins, and think of Aegon's recently born son, Daeron II, as the key to smoothing things over.

Baelor eschews marriage, not just with his sisters, but in general, and while we don’t have his POV to see what he was thinking about an heir (if he was even thinking of it), given the precedent of uncles and younger brothers usurping female Targaryens, and Baelor’s own *waves at the Maidenvault* nonsense about women, it seems likely Baelor viewed his uncle as his heir and not Daena the Defiant, and thus betrothing the first born son of Viserys’ first born son to Myriah, Marence’s first born daughter, ties everything together neatly.

For Marence’s part, this plan is incredibly risky. Daeron and Myriah are around 7 and a lot can change in the ten years it will take for Myriah to reach the age of majority. Maron could die, and there’s no guarantee Marence can have another child before he himself dies. Myriah could die and throw the whole plan into question. Marence’s people did just torture the everloving hell out of Aemon (and while the Wyl's are a bit notorious for being super violent towards invading forces, we have no idea whether Marence encouraged that the way Aliandra and Deria do, or if he discouraged it the way Nymor does), and Viserys might not be too fond of the plan. But this is Aliandra’s son. This is the son of a goddamn Rogare. High risk plans with little hope of succeeding are their lifeblood and it's clearly a chance that may be worth taking if he wants to finally calm down the warring.

And being Aliandra's son, it's even possible she told him stories about her relationship with Alyn (hopefully not the sexy ones but who knows). Perhaps he's thinking that this might work out, if Baelor can come here and forgive him after they tortured Aemon and killed The Young Dragon, if his mother could find something worth respecting in Alyn. It's a young man's dream for a better, less violent future for his people and for his young children.

If Marence is the Prince, it also means he dies pretty young. Maron is ruling Prince by 174 AC, so even if we push the death date to have happened the very first month of 174 AC, it means Marence is just 39 years old when he passes. He lives long enough to send his daughter to an unknown fate in a still hostile kingdom, to see Baelor die, Viserys II die, and Aegon the Unworthy take the throne and make overtures at continued war while Mariah is essentially a hostage in King's Landing, and now, with only his young son Maron to protect her and to protect Dorne. A wild, risky life with a sad, early death; just like his mother Aliandra.

If The Unnamed Prince of Dorne Is Qyle Nymeros Martell

Firstly, if it's Qyle, I can 100% see why he kills Daeron I and tortures Aemon; we already know he dislikes the other kingdoms of Westeros and after spending years being forced to make nice because of Aliandra, who dies childless and passes the principality to him, an older, hardened Qyle may decide there is no point in trying to make peace with these people. He takes a page out of his ancestor Meria's book and decides to fight dirty and to the last man. Why on Earth would he trust them, why on Earth would he confine himself to the rules of their game? Even without dragons, these people insist on destroying his home so he will fight them until his last breath.

And then this deeply pious seventeen year old (the same age as Aliandra when the principality passed to her!) shows up barefoot with all the hostages who are mostly unharmed and asks to make peace. And now Qyle is approaching middle age (being like 44 at this point), looking at this very odd mirror to his deceased older sister, who is asking him to put aside all anger. There's no charming flirtation or coy words like what Alyn offered Aliandra nor is there the threat of violence and subjugation like what Daeron offered just a few years before. It's a risk yes, but when faced with this bloody-footed seventeen year old and the release of the hostages, it might seem like a risk that's worth taking.

And again, if we push his death date to the first month of 174 AC, it means Qyle is 58 years old. Hardly old by our years, but it's more than several other notable rulers get in ASOIAF. Old enough to have seen relations with the Iron Throne go up and down and when he dies, the future is uncertain yes, but he's spent his life trying to make things better in the only ways he knows how.

SO THAT'S THE UNNAMED PRINCE OF DORNE.

I think both scenarios are interesting and they both seem likely! I hope one day we know a little bit more about this elusive character, as well as about Myriah and Maron - did Myriah resent the marriage her father arranged for her? Did she resent having to give up her claim to the principality or did she see this as a chance to gain further power? Clearly, Maron believed in continued peace making through marriage because he agreed to marry Daenerys as an adult; how close was he to his father then? Was he devastated by his father's death? Did he love Myriah and write to her the way Oberyn and Doran loved Elia? If he is Qyle, and older when he has children, does this impact how he sees them? And if he's Marence instead, and had children young-ish, does that impact their relationship? How does he even die???

Much to think about and I hope we get concrete answers one day!

#valyrianscrolls #house martell #myriah martell #maron martell #aliandra martell #qyle martell #drazenko rogare #a song of ice and fire #qoren martell #maron nymeros martell #qyle nymeros martell #aliandra nymeros martell #marence martell #marence nymeros martell #if you type the name martell enough times it stops looking like a word lmao #dorne #getting on my soap box

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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

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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

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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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mendes-bae · 1 year

Text

A fair exchange – part three

series masterlist ; part two ; part four

Part three summary: the bedding ceremony has begun, confessions are made.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (F) Targaryen!reader

Warning: NSFW 🔞 incest, fluff, explicit words, virginity lost, sex work is mentioned, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (obviously), cunnilingus.

Author's note: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! this is my first time writing a fic in English, so beforehand, i'm sorry 👀

All the rights belong to the showrunners of HOTD and George R.R Martin, author of Fire and blood & Song of ice and fire series‼️

Word count: 2050

The newlyweds walked through the Red Keep corridors holding their hands. The guards were behind them, following them with discretion. However, when they reached the room they would share, the soldiers waited at the door, giving the young couple as much privacy as they could.

Thanks to the Gods, King Viserys had decreed that courtiers need not be present at the bedding ceremony, so they would be alone.

Velarys entered the chambers followed by Aemond. She looked around and admired the job the maids had made, they had lit candles and left lavender incense scattered in various parts of the room. It was a romantic setting, no doubt.

The bed in the center of the room they would share from now on was imposing, canopies hung from it, scarlet velvet pillows and rose petals were scattered on the bed.

The bride inspired.

"Velarys, we don't have to do anything you don't want" Aemond spoke from behind her.

The princess laughed softly.

"Are you scared, dear husband?"

Aemond noted that this was the first time she had called him that way. He smiled at it.

"Of course not" he said as he poured wine into a glass. "I know what to do"

Velarys laughed again, louder this time.

"I must be relieved that at least one of us know what to do"

Velarys walked over to her husband removing the pins that Rhaenyra had put in her hair hours before. She listened carefully to Aemond's raspy voice.

"Not that I have much experience" The prince apologized.

"And who was the lucky woman in question?" she asked as she took the rings off her hands.

"You do not want to know"

The princess placed the jewelry on the table and turned to see the handsome man next to her.

"Aemond, if we want this to work there must be no lies between us" said Velarys taking the glass from her husband's hands and then sipping the sweet dornish wine.

The Targaryen prince knew that she was right, released his breath and encouraged himself to reveal the truth to Velarys.

"Aegon took me to a pleasure house"

The white-haired woman wet her lips with her tongue. She already knew, her lady-in-waiting Rose Westerling, niece of the commander of the King's Guard, had told her a few moons ago... but she wanted to hear it from Aemond's lips.

"Rumor has it, they are good teachers" she said freeing her feet from the torture devices they called shoes.

"I don't question their methods"

Aemond offered her some of the chopped freshly fruit on the table, Velarys accepted strawberries and took a bite, causing its juice to trickle down her chin. Aemond watched how the red liquid ran down her delicate throat.

"You seriously haven't been with anyone before?" the groom asked cautiously.

"Are you questioning my chastity?"

Aemond cursed himself for that question.

"It's not that" he hastened to reply "I thought Lyon Tyrell…"

"Lyon is not stupid, he wouldn't risk having his hands cut off just for being my lover"

Aemond closed his good eye remembering the threat he had made to the Lord of Highgarden when he was eleven years old.

"He's not as smart as i thought" he said instead.

"What does suppose to mean?"

"You are a beautiful woman, Velarys"

"So are you, husband"

Velarys could have sworn that Aemond had blushed.

"Not even with Qyle Martell?" he asked again surprised.

"He is an attractive man, very different from what is used be to seeing in King's Landing... but no, not even him"

Aemond believed her.

He cleared his throat and looked at his shoes.

"Shall we do this, then?"

Velarys stood in front of her husband and made him copy her action.

“I have been ready for a long time”

The princess approached her husband and could feel how his body tensed. She put her hands on his ribs and leaned down to kiss him.

When Velarys's lips touched his, Aemond didn't know what to do. In the years they had been engaged, they had never been so intimate: he had courted her, they had attended balls together, and Velarys had even given him many High Valyrian lessons, making them strangers no more. But it had never gone beyond a kiss on the cheek or warm hugs: Aemond respected Velarys.

Velarys felt that Aemond didn't kiss her back, many thoughts went through her mind: I'm not attractive enough for him, he prefers the whores he has visited in that pleasure house... after all they have more experience.

Velarys took a few steps back, and Aemond could see the disappointment on her face.

"Vela…"

"I know I'm not the most experienced woman in the world, but I trying my best" Velarys walked away from Aemond "No one told me what to do or what to expect about tonight, but you don't make it so easy for me either"

"You didn't do anything wrong"

"Then why don't you kiss me?" Velarys asked.

Aemond bit his lip softly and confessed:

“I have never kissed anyone”

"What?"

"I don't know how to kiss you properly"

“But you said that…”

"Yes, the prostitutes taught me how to fuck, but…" he stopped speaking, he realized this wasn't an appropriate vocabulary to use in front of his lady wife. "I wanted you to be the one to give me my first kiss, to give you something that no one has touched before"

Velarys smiled at his words, Aemond was someone sweet: he only hid it under that dark aura that he had built.

"Well, I may not have been fucked yet, but at least I know how to kiss someone."

Aemond took Velarys's hands and pulled her closer.

"I should thank Lord Lyon for that."

Velarys laughed.

“Could you teach me how to kiss you?”

“Only if you promise that I will be the only one you kiss”

"Always"

Velarys took Aemond's face again and kissed him, properly this time.

At first it was a sweet and tender kiss, but then it turned into a more passionate one.

Velarys bit Aemond's lips gently, they were swollen and red.

Aemond was shy at first, but then he grew confident. He took her wife's neck and with her thumbs caressed her skin. Velarys moved her kisses to her husband's neck and sucked on his skin, Aemond groaned.

The princess's fingers slid down Aemond's strong arms until they moved to the gold buttons of his jacket. The princess slipped the garment off and let it fall to the ground.

The groom only separated from her to catch his breath and get rid of his white linen shirt. His bare torso was marked by hours of training and under Velarys's touch it was felt an arousing hardness.

Aemond touch softly his wife's exposed arm and felt her skin prickle.

"The dress is beautiful, but difficult to take it off," Velarys said, watching her husband's fingers move.

He swallowed hard.

"That reminds me... I didn't get a chance to tell you how gorgeous you are."

Aemond gently turned Velarys over and began to undo the ribbons that kept her dress on, as he loosened the endless knots her skin was freed.

Her shoulders, her lower back, her ass cheeks had tiny freckles, he bit his lip as he saw them.

Her dress was wrapped around Velarys's ankles and Aemond with an outstretched hand helped her out of it.

The prince admired her for a moment… he had seen several naked women before, but none of them were as beautiful as her.

Velarys covered her exposed breasts when shame washed over her.

"You must not hide from me, my dear." He took her hands and exposed her breasts.

His thumb caressed her nipple and she quickly bristled. Velarys moaned at his fingertips touch.

Aemond kissed her again, this time roughly. His mouth was desperate for her, his tongue tasted all of her.

The prince wrapped his arms around Velarys's waist and pressed her against his body. She wrapped her legs around his still clothed pelvis, and through his pants she felt his manhood grow. On his lips the princess let out a little cry when his cock collided with her entrance.

Aemond walked to the bed with Velarys on his hips. Every time he took a step, her pelvis collided with his, torturing both of them.

He laid his wife down on the sheets, admiring her figure as he removed his heavy leather pants and boots.

"Are you sure you want to do with this?" Aemond asked before continuing with this irreversible moment.

Velarys looked down at his crotch.

“Do I look like I want to stop?” she answered stroking her belly.

Aemond lunged at her, his arms on either side of her face to keep from crushing her.

Velarys gave a cry of surprise as she feel his lips around her left nipple. When his tongue curled around her, her hands settled on the bottom of his head, pulling him closer to her breasts. Wanting more.

Aemond's kisses moved from her breasts to her belly, down to her ribs and hips. Velarys's vision began to blur.

Her husband knelt in front of her, kissing her legs skin.

“Aemond, what are you…?”

"I'll show you what I've learned too" he said bringing his mouth closer to her wet sex.

His tongue ran all over her cunt. Velarys swore that she had never felt so much pleasure, now she understood the ladies of the court.

Aemond's middle finger entered her pussy and she felt a sharp pain, but she didn't want to stop.

"Tell me if I hurt you" he said kissing her cunt lips.

Velarys could only nod.

Aemond moved his finger in and out, when she was sufficiently lubricated he added a second finger.

Velarys moaned louder, bringing her sex closer to her husband's mouth in an eagerness to get more of him.

Aemond removed his fingers from the most luscious pussy he'd ever tasted and brought them to his mouth, cleaning them.

He laughed softly when Velarys cry as she felt empty.

“Do not despair, sweet wife”

Aemond positioned himself between her thighs and stroked her erect cock with one hand and caressed Velarys's torso with the other.

She wrapped her calf around his ass, causing their sexes to collide.

"Maybe this will hurt a little" said the prince licking his lips with his tongue.

"I don't care" Velarys said, moving her hips impatiently against his.

Aemond gently entered her and waited for her to get used to his size.

"I always wanted to know how you would feel" he said huskily, kissing a tear that rolled down her cheek.

Velarys screamed as he moved. Her tight walls sucked him in.

Aemond slowly moved inside her and the princess clasped her legs tightly.

It was an extremely pleasurable pain, she loved the feeling of having him in her pussy.

Velarys caressed her breasts and Aemond thought this was the sexiest view he ever had.

"You are a goddess" he said getting out of her and entering rougher.

The princess cried out in pleasure.

Aemond knew that from now on his new favorite thing was fucking his wife.

"Shit" the curse escaped her delicate mouth.

When the groom saw a more confident Velarys, he came out of her.

"What…?" she asked her puzzled.

Aemond climbed up the bed and lay down on the sheets.

"Ride me" ordered the dragon prince "Do whatever you want with me"

Velarys groaned at the thought.

The princess climbed on top of him and guided his cook to her pussy.

At first, the white-haired woman's inexperience showed up, but her husband squeezed her hip and guided her movements. Pleasure overcame them both.

Aemond massaged her clit and Velarys swore this was heaven. She moved faster on top of him.

When the orgasm clouded the princess's judgment, he continued fucking her through her climax.

“Aemond!” Velarys cried out as his seed filled her sex.

The prince groaned in response, sat up and kissed his wife lustfully.

When they ran out of air, they fell exhausted on the bed, hugging each other.

The bedding ceremony certainty had been completed.

Part four

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