ecstaticactus

[ecstaticactus]

AEMOND TARGARYEN | S1 FIRST/LAST SHOT

[ecstaticactus]

Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer. 

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you. 

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property. 

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked. 

They always were. 

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready. 

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here. 

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her. 

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view. 

But that time had been different. 

That time, something had changed. 

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire. 

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear. 

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong. 

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later. 

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes. 

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long. 

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss. 

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over. 

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took. 

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along. 

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire. 

It was almost smug. 

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right. 

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face. 

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages. 

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on. 

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end. 

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious. 

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage. 

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs. 

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again. 

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind. 

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed. 

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence. 

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day. 

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed. 

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers. 

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily. 

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl. 

Those messages, those calls. 

The ‘See you soon’ text. 

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit. 

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again. 

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce. 

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels. 

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue. 

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same. 

The same routine. 

The same walls, and floors, and rooms. 

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to. 

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her. 

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye. 

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions. 

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling. 

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were. 

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you. 

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism. 

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.” 

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper. 

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. 

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you. 

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy. 

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you. 

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

-

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?” 

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.” 

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs. 

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view. 

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips. 

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself. 

This wasn’t unusual. 

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare. 

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch. 

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back. 

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees. 

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you. 

They were right, winter had come early this year. 

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside. 

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake. 

The broadband must have blown it out. 

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark. 

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon. 

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods. 

It’s fine. 

It’s nothing. 

I’ve just worked myself up. 

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze. 

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house. 

Still dark. 

You groaned, and did it again. 

Again, nothing. 

No hum of the motor kicking back on. 

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks. 

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door. 

You needed a glass of wine. 

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you. 

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room. 

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat. 

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes. 

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?” 

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room. 

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it. 

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart. 

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!” 

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black. 

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you. 

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion. 

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core. 

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix. 

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help. 

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use. 

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him. 

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room. 

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips. 

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you. 

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame. 

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much. 

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter. 

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud. 

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down. 

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you. 

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish. 

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over. 

You were so tired. 

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it. 

There was no point. 

No escape. 

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide. 

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to. 

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning. 

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man. 

Someone you didn’t even know. 

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine. 

You knew now what he was willing to do. 

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again. 

A wave of mourning crashed over you. 

Mourning your past. 

Mourning your future. 

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home. 

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness. 

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with. 

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

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[ecstaticactus]

ALICENT HIGHTOWER and AEMOND TARGARYEN in 1x07 and 1x09

[ecstaticactus]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

#THIS IS PERFECT #SO SO BEAUTIFUL #soft aemond>>>>> #this is how i'd wish my marriage to be with aemond

[ecstaticactus]

I really love how all max fuckers have the dramatic bitch gene like since fp2 i've seen posts in so many languages of people going crazy with p6 max that if we don't win on saturday there will be a collective suicide. i love our dramatic asses <3<3<3

how could we not be dramatic. if max verstappen doesn't win this is who the rb20 is hurting and upsetting

[ecstaticactus]

via

[ecstaticactus]

oh… okay.

[ecstaticactus]

[ecstaticactus]

LASCIVIOUS CONTEMPT

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader (Strong)

Summary: The rivalry that grew between Alicent and Rhaenyra has also grown between their eldest children. When Rhaenyra and her family returned to King's Landing, they both know that the enmity is still there, but the new feeling that came along with it is quite unknown.

Tags/TW: incest (uncle/niece), enemies to lovers, hate fuck(?, smut (p in v -no protection-, oral sex -both receiving-, aegon being obsessed with boobs, choking), cursing, dirty talk, public sex kinda, slut shaming, typical sexism of the time, cringy pet names (i'm sorry), non proof read.

Author's Note: I don't usually write smut bc I think I'm better at other things lmao, but this idea came and I love reading hatw fucking so I decided to write one myself.

Word Count: 6.4k

Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!!

Aegon saw you walking inside the Dining Hall. Your face carried a gentle smile, the light-blue gown that you decided to wear did nothing but to mold your figure perfectly, and that tight corset around your ribs was shaping your waist in an almost tempting way. Aegon clenched his jaw, trying to look at you with the usual disgust, but something inside of him did not allow him to do so… he has not seen you in at least three years, and you use the time to become a fine looking woman.

However, the smug grin on your petulant face was the thing that destroyed all his desire for you. You were walking towards the large table with your chin up, straight posture and a confidence he wished he had. You looked respectable, the beauty of your Valyrian genes were showing now that you had flourished. Aegon hated to admit it.

For you, though, Aegon had deteriorated with the years… the first thing you thought when you saw him was that the Gods might have been cruel to him, for he was looking paler than ever, his eyes had dark circles around them as if he had not slept in days. The only thing that you thought was attractive now about him was his body, a bit wider than the last time you saw him, a bit chubbier and manly. You thought about looking at other good aspects of him, but soon you decided it was a mere waste of time. You would not find anything, anyway… or that was what you thought. 

The feasts began and everyone started to eat after hearing the kind words from the king, who was grateful to have his family in one place, lovingly sharing a good time. As soon as your grandsire said those words, you heard a scoff and you did not even need to turn to see from who it was. Aegon was smirking with malice as you looked back to him, his eyes piercing through your skin as you gave him a dead stare in response. 

You saw his hand around his cup, the rings in his fingers that were caressing the edges of it as his eyes never left your serious face. His middle finger circled around it, in a gesture that might actually seem obscene. You raised your eyebrow as a disgust expression appeared on your semble. You thought he was so vulgar, and nasty, that he was doing that gesture just to bother you, and you regretted sitting in front of him. 

In reality, Aegon was lost in his thoughts, not even noticing his actions. He felt some kind of inner rage as his mind put all these thoughts in his head, and soon he was starting to imagine them as well. The neckline of your dress was not enough to cover your breasts, which appeared to have grown in those years in which he did not see you. Your collarbones seem tempting and kisseable, a thought that almost made Aegon slap himself. 

You were supposed to gross him out, you were supposed to make him feel disgust and anger, why in the seven hell is he having those lustful thoughts about you? 

He clenched his jaw once again as you laugh, and that horrid sound was enough to wake him up from his torment. He realized who he was looking at, who he was thinking of, and soon a wave of realization hit him hard in the face. He cleared his throat and drank all the wine that was left in his cup, just then he looked away from you. You frowned, a bit confused but not interested in knowing what was going on. You thought he was already drunk. 

You spend the rest of the evening in silence, as everyone else was laughing and chatting with each other. You were never known for being so convivial, you always rather listen and look in silence at what everyone else has to say. You never turned to look at Aegon again, as you were too busy silently laughing for the foolery things your brothers said. 

There was a point in the night where the noise and the music and the light of the candles became too much for you, so you stood up and excused yourself for a minute. Aegon saw you and followed your path with his stare, he saw when you walked towards Ser Erryk and whispered something, and he also saw the mischievous grin that he gave you in response. He bit his lip to hold back a gasp once he realized what was going on. 

Who would have thought that the sweet and so correct princess was fucking her guard?, Aegon thought, smirking as he had just found out about your dirty little secret. 

A few minutes later, you were standing in front of the throne. The room was empty, not a single guard in sight as you watched the chair of swords in front of you, the chair that will become yours in a few more years. The place was quiet, and peaceful. The only lightning source was the moon, making the place look cold. You took a deep breath, contemplating the future where you would sit on that throne. 

Soon your peace was interrupted by the sound of the door being open behind your back. The steps that you would recognize everywhere echoed in the empty room and you rolled your eyes, closing them before you sighed. He dragged his feet walking towards you, he was lazy even to walk, you thought.

“And there goes my five minutes of peace,” you spoke sternly, without facing him yet. 

“That is actually flattering,” he answered. You could hear the smirk on his voice, “you recognized me by just hearing my steps.”

You scoffed, now turning around, “I was taught that one always must know how to identify your enemies.” 

Aegon raised his eyebrow as he walked slowly towards you. 

“You consider me an enemy?” He asked, his tone sounding as if he was offended, but you know it was an act. With him it always was. 

“I certainly do not consider you a friend.” 

You turned around again, trying to ignore his presence but there was something inside you that made it impossible, and it was not the regular precaution you always had when he was around, it was something different. 

“Did you come here to bother my existence once again, uncle?” You questioned. Aegon was still walking, each step was slower than the prior, “Because if that was your purpose, let me tell you you achieved it.” 

“Oh, not at all,” he chuckled, and then he placed himself behind your back. You tensed almost immediately. “I was just worried about you, you left the Dining Hall so suddenly and in such a hurry.”

His tone made you roll your eyes once again, he was being clearly sarcastic. He was just bothering you, as he always did. 

“What are you doing here, my dear?” He asked, leaning a bit forward in order to speak against your ear. You did not bend into his try to make you shrink, you barely flinched when his breath smacked against the skin of your neck. 

“That does not concern you.” You spat. 

“Easy, dragon…” He chuckled, “Don’t spit fire at me, I’m just asking.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Drink wine until you pass out? Fuck some whores, perhaps?”

“Oh… you sound jealous, my dear.” You clenched your jaw, “Does it bother you?”

“Of course not,” you scoffed, “I understand why you do it, actually.”

“Do you?”

“Yes… No one would fuck you unless you pay them first, so I get it.” You smiled falsely. “And at the end of the day, men have needs that they need to fulfill, right?”

Aegon tensed for your comment, it hit right in his ego. He took a step back, for you had left him speechless with your words. A smirk crossed your face as you turned around to finally face him. You had to hold back a chuckle after seeing his expression.

“Answering your question, I just wanted a moment of peace… one that you clearly interrupted with your annoying presence,” you said as you went back to your serious semblance again, “I was just admiring the throne, which, luckily for the realm, will belong to my mother and to me instead of you.”

Aegon scoffed, a side smile was carved on his smug face.

“So naive…” he mocked you, “they would never allow you or your mother to rule the Seven Kingdoms.”

You narrowed your eyes, almost offended by his words, “and why is that?” 

Aegon leaned closer to you, making you tense once again. He then whispered, very close to your face, “you don’t have a cock.” 

You laughed, “I would bet my entire fortune in saying that you don’t either.” 

“You want to see it?” He quickly said. 

“No, thank you,” you said with clear sarcasm in your voice, “you’re too generous.” 

Another smug smile appeared on his face before you continued speaking. 

“So, according to you, having a cock is what makes someone more capable of ruling than a  proper preparation and education? That is quite pathetic, actually.”

“It’s just reality, dear.” 

“In that case, may the Gods have mercy over the people of Westeros, for they are doomed if you ever become their king.” You shrugged, “no one wants a drunken lazy king, right?”

“Still better than a filthy whore as their queen, right?” His words made the blood burn inside your veins, but before you could complain he interrupted you. “Ah-ah… don’t say anything, I know your little secret; you are fucking with that guard of yours. The twin one, I don’t know which one, or perhaps you’re fucking both.”

You shrugged, “sounds like you’re jealous.” you repeated his prior words with the same amount of entitlement that he used. 

“Why would I?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Then, you decided to ignore the comment, not even defending yourself about the accusation that it was partially true. Instead, you came back to the prior theme of your conversation, and spoke as if none of the last seconds had happened in the first place.

“During the reign of Jaehaerys, queen Alyssane was the mind behind all his good scheming and ideas, you would know that if you ever pick up a book and read it, but I’m actually not sure if you are able to read,” you spoke, mocking him. “Let me also add the fact that Aegon the Conqueror was able to unify the Seven Kingdoms with the help of Rhaenys and Visenya, without them he would have never accomplished what he did-

“Is this your way to ask me to marry you and make you my queen?” He interrupted you. You sighed, “Because I would need more convincing than that.”

You chuckled, “I would rather be eaten by my own dragon than marry you and bear your children.” 

Aegon raised his eyebrow, “Well… I was only talking about marriage but if you want to include the children I think I can do that,”

“You are insufferable.” You muttered. 

“You are the one that wants me to give you children, darling.” He stepped closer to you, and you immediately stepped back, putting the palm of your hand against his chest.

“What are you doing?” You asked at once, confused and taken aback by his action. Was he not supposed to hate you? Why is he trying to get so intimately close to you? “Aegon-”

“I’m going to give you what you want, sweetie.” He smirked, his hand reaching your waist as he pulled you close to him.

You were speechless, completely shocked by the way he was acting. He kept walking forward with you between his arms until you felt the coldness of the pillar behind your back. You took a sharp breath as he leaned closer, rubbing his nose against yours in a subtle touch that almost made you stutter. You remained silent, for you knew if you dare to speak only a murmur would come out and he would certainly mock you for it. Your pride was too valuable for you to let him the satisfaction of letting his actions intimidate you. 

However, his closeness along with the tight grip of his hand on your waist made you feel a bit of excitement, and you hate yourself for it. You were supposed to be disgusted by him, you said yourself a few minutes before. Your mouth was saying something but your body was reacting on its own, with its own rules and not obeying the little voice in your head that was screaming and demanding you to push him away. Your palms were at his chest, but they did not intend to put pressure against him, it was as if they were numb.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” You asked again after making sure your voice would not come out as a whimper. “Stop this, right now.”

“Why?” He questioned.

“I do not know what you are playing, but this must stop right now, Aegon, or I swear that I-”

“What?” He interrupted you, tightening his grip on your waist. You took a sharp breath, “What are you going to do, huh?” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Aegon shrugged, “I don’t even know the answer to that question, dear.” He smiled, and looked down at your neckline, seeing how your breasts were popping out of it, “Perhaps it’s your dress, you think you could wear this around and expect me not to get hard? Come on… I’m a simple man, and you said it yourself; at the end of the day, men have needs that they need to fulfill.”

You were about to answer, but the idiot kissed you. He actually kissed you.

You gasped out of surprise, feeling his roughness and little delicacy as he devoured your lips without care. Your knees weakened by this gesture as the blood rushed into your cheeks, and a sudden heat washed over your body. It took you a while to let yourself go and submit to his touch, and as soon as you started to move your lips against his you were able to hear a soft chuckle, which you decided to ignore as your hands went to his cheeks. 

It was messy, rough, and careless. It’s as if he was desperate to taste you, to consume you. His tongue was claiming your mouth as he would groan and press his body against yours, leaving you trapped between him and the pillar behind your back. Never in a million years you would have thought that you would be kissing Aegon, but there you were… devouring his mouth as his hands roamed around your body, making you squirm and sigh. The worst thing of it all, is that you loved the way it felt. 

Aegon pulled away suddenly, and he looked down at you. His eyes were glistening with lust, his pale cheeks had now a pinkish tone in them and his lips were swollen and red. He was breathing fast, just staring at you without saying a word.

“Why- why did you kiss me?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Why did you kiss me back?” He teased. “Admit that you desire this as much as I do.”

“I-”

“Shut up.” He said, rolling his eyes, “Let us make a deal, okay? Just for the next minutes, forget that we hate each other, and let me fuck you, alright?” 

His words made your core feel warm and you squeezed your legs before nodding softly at him. You were going to regret it later, but at least in that moment it felt right.

“That’s it… that’s a good girl.” He smirked.

“Shut up-”

He interrupted you once again with a wet kiss that made you whimper. It was slower now, but still being filled with desire and lust. His tongue kept swirling against yours as his hands went to your back, starting to loosen up the laces of your dress, not all the way down but enough to free your soft breasts. 

Aegon’s hands immediately went to them, without stopping the kiss. His cold fingers started to play with your sensitive nipples as you sighed against his lips and he pressed himself even more, you were able to feel his hardon pocking against your thigh. His hands were still grabbing, squeezing and pinching your breasts as your legs would be squeezing against each other, trying to feel something that relieved the aching need of attention between them.

His lips soon left your lips to travel down your body. His tongue licking your soft skin; your neck, your collarbones… leaving maroon stains behind that will stay in your body for days. You did not think about it, you barely can think at all, especially when his skilful tongue reached your breasts. His hands kept cupping them as he was eager to devour them, he would moan as soon as he put one on his mouth. You would gasp, leaning your head against the pillar with your hands on his shoulders, trying to find some support in case your already weakened legs would give in. 

He had found your most sensitive spot, and he seemed not to let go of them anytime soon. 

He licked, sucked, and softly bit your nipples. His eyes were closed, and the expression of lust was clearly seen on his face. It seemed to you as if he was enjoying it even more than you were, for he was already groaning against your soft skin. 

Aegon pulled away after some seconds and gave them a soft squeeze before kissing you again. His hands now were lifting your skirts, struggling a bit as there were many layers of fabric that separated him from your needy core.

“Fucking dress,” He muttered, as his hands moved quickly. “I can’t fucking-” 

“Let me-” You started, trying to lift it up.

“Nah, fuck it.” He said, before roughly pulling the dress down your body, exposing your nudity to his lustful eyes.

He pulled your hips close to him as he leaned to kiss you, you softly moaned. The pleasure was already taking the best of you. Your dress was around your feet now, but you could only think about Aegon’s fingers going down to your core to start rubbing your soaking folds. He touched your bundle of nerves and you breathed heavily as he did so. 

He groaned in response, “You're so fucking wet…" He muttered, "It seems like your body loves me." 

You wanted to answer him, to stop his teasing with a witty comeback as you would usually do, but your mind was numb and dizzy, and you were already unable to think about it. 

"Did the cat eat your tongue, dear?" He chuckled, fastening the circle motion of his fingers in your clit and making you whimper. "Come on, I've barely touched you and you're already dripping… If I'd known you wanted me to fuck you so bad I would've done it sooner."

You push him away, frowning. You regain your consciousness enough to understand his mocking, and you clenched your jaw, getting angry at him. Aegon just chuckled before grabbing the same hands that were pushing him, and using them to pull you closer to him once again. 

"Don't be silly, love. Stay still and I'll give you what you want." 

"Don't be a fool." You warned, "Or I'll pick my things and leave."

He chuckled. A small laugh that was so seductive and tempting. His smirk looked so devilish and sinful that almost made you lose the little control you have left. 

"Stop being such a bummer and enjoy this." He said, pecking your lips playfully. 

His kisses started to go down once again, repeating the same path as before. He, once again, made a long pause in your breasts, fondling them and kissing them, leaving small marks and soft bites. Once he thought they had received enough attention, he went further. He licked your skin all the way until he was kneeled in front of you. His hands grabbed your hips as he kissed your pelvis, so close to your core. You sighed feeling his warm breath hitting your skin, 

"See?" You managed to say, breathlessly already, "It's not that hard to kneel in front of your rightful Queen, is it?" 

A loud and hard spank reached your arse, the sound echoing in the empty hall. You yelped out of the impression, your eyes widened as you looked down at him. You pulled his hair harshly as a payback, but that only made him moan. 

"Don't do that." He warned, his voice sounding almost whiny. "Now shut up, and let me eat your cunt without your annoying voice buzzing in my ears."

"Fuck off." You whispered.

Aegon bit your thigh, took his time and kissed them too, squeezing them and feeling your skin in his hands. Then, he lifted your right leg and placed it over his shoulder. Before you knew it, Aegon's tongue was licking your swollen clit in circling motions that made you gasp and whine. Your hands immediately went to his silver locks as you tried to push him closer to you, his nose burying into your flesh, stimulating your senses and almost making you drool. 

His wet tongue would wander around your soaked cunt, reaching your needy hole to tease it a little before returning to your clit, which was begging for his attention. Small whimpers left your mouth as he did so, and the grip on his hair became tighter, now he was the one to moan against your slit, sending vibrations through your body that made you roll your eyes. 

One of his fingers started to tease your entrance, pressing against it as his mouth kept sucking your bundle and his tongue played with it too. Your wetness would make his finger slip inside of you every now and then, enough to make you whimper and buck your hips against his greedy mouth, which seems to not have enough of you. Your head fell backwards, leaning it against the pillar as the moans flew out of your lips making Aegon smirk. 

"Who would've thought that such a bitter person like you would taste so sweet?" He groans, licking his lips as his finger replaced the stimulation of his tongue on your clit. 

Your knees felt so weak and shaky. And it felt worse when he, once again, buried his face between your legs, now eating you out more eagerly, as if he was desperate to make you cum. His slurping and soft groans were filling the empty hall, as your moans made them company, the obscene sounds he made as he was devouring you were enough to make you shake and clenched around nothing. So needy already. 

"Let me taste you, dear…" He muttered against your soft and wet folds, "I bet you're so fucking close already… Am I making you feel good?" 

"Fuck- Yes…" You whimpered, "I’m so close." 

He chuckled, his mouth now sucking desperately on your sensitive and swollen spot. His stare, his hands squeezing your arse, and his rough touch were enough. You came in his mouth, biting your lip to not moan too loud. The bastard made you cum so hard your knees bent, he reacted quickly by holding your hips and putting you back in your place before one of his hands slipped between your drenching folds once again. 

"There you go..." He grinned, his digits rubbing against you to prolong your release, "So fucking good." 

He stood up, his knees feeling weak and his cock aching under his pants. He rubbed it over the fabric and groaned. You looked down at him, your legs still shaking, your breathing still unsteady, your cheeks still burning red. He pecked your lips. 

"Now… what about you returning the favor, huh?" He speaks with his typical pretentiousness that you hated so much. You took a while to process his words and what they meant, so he spoke again, "kneel, and suck my cock."

You slapped his shoulder. 

"I'm not your fucking whore." You spat. 

"Weird that you mention that…" He made a small gesture, frowning as if he was trying to remember something, "I thought only whores wanted to have sex with me, huh?" 

"Fuck off." You muttered as you started to untie the lace of his pants, "You're so fucking annoying."

He scoffed, and pushed you down until your knees touched the cold floor, "And yet, here you are, about to suck my cock."

You pulled down his pants and his length jumped out of it, he was already starting to leak. You tried so hard not to hum at the view, you tried so hard to deny how wet it made you feel. 

"See?" He spoke breathlessly as you grabbed him, starting to slowly stroke him, "I told I had one."

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle for the millionth time. A chuckle that was interrupted by your tongue licking the red tip of his hard cock. Aegon sighed, and muttered some incoherent words under his breath as his hips moved closer to you. However, you still kept licking only the tip, not even sucking on it yet… you wanted to tease him, just a little. He deserved it. 

His hand reached for your hair and gripped it tightly in a fist, which completely ruined your braids and hair. You moan for this rough action, as Aegon tried to pull you closer to him, in a failed attempt of getting inside your mouth. 

"Stop being a fucking tease," he grunted, almost with a desperate tone. You only smirked, and soon your swollen lips were around the head of his cock, sucking it gently while your tongue flicked around it. Aegon groaned in response, closing his eyes and leaning his head backwards. "That's it… just like that, bunny." 

That nickname did something inside of you. Your cheeks turned red, your cunt clenched and a soft moan left your lips. Even you were impressed by your reaction, completely aroused by just that word. You wondered how many girls he had called that way before, you were sure you were not the first.

But you were. 

Soon you allowed him to fully enter your mouth, and he slowly moved his hips against you. One hand was gripping the side of your neck a bit tightly and the other was pulling your hair, forcing you to stay still as he gently fucked your mouth. He would sigh heavily, grunt and bite his lip. 

You move your head back and forth, trying to take him whole. Your hand went to his sack, which you fondled and squeezed enough to make him groan a bit too loud. Small curses left his lips as his cock twitched inside your mouth. 

He then forced you to stop moving your head, keeping it still with his grip tight in your hair. His hips started to fasten his thrusts, you would gulp and gag every now and then while your eyes started to get teary and blurry as his pace was quicker and rougher. His moans became louder, his breath uneven and unsteady. Then he stopped, he slowly moved his hips forward, forcing you to take him fully down your throat. You felt the lack of air as you gagged, your nose rubbing against his pelvis. 

Aegon grunted, and then a loud whine left his lips, but before you could taste his load in your mouth, he pulled out. He laughed softly, looking at you sitting on your arse on top of your wrinkled dress, gasping and panting, trying to regain the air to your lungs. 

"Fucking idiot!" You yelled at him, wiping the tears of your face and the saliva that had fallen down your chin. 

"Don't be so loud, sweetheart, someone might hear you." His voice sounded weak and unsteady. It was so obvious that he was about to cum before you decided to push him away. 

"You were choking me, asshole." You said as you stood up. Aegon helped you by grabbing your arm, feeling a weird sensation in his gut when he saw a small and slight pout in your lips. 

He quickly tried to make that feeling disappear with a witty comment, trying to seem careless, "why would I want to do that when we haven't reached the best part yet?" 

Once again, he interrupted you with a messy kiss, pushing you against the cold pillar. You tasted yourself in his lips, and you were certain that he did too. It was so erotic that it made you moan. His hands gave your breast a last squeeze before cupping your face to deepen the kiss. 

Aegon did not waste any more time. His cock was already hard enough to hurt, and he was desperate to feel you around him. He's been waiting for it since you arrived with that dress, which was now spreaded on the floor and under Aegon's shoes. He grabbed your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his hips. His cock was placed against your wet folds and that mere touch was enough to make you shiver. His lips came back to your neck as your hips started to move against his length, up and down, stealing a soft grunt from him. 

Soon, his hands grabbed your arse, and his tongue found his way back to your breasts. You felt your knees weakened once again and now you were glad he was holding you up. He sucked your nipple now more harshly, as your hands went to his hair to stroke it delicately as you kept rubbing yourself with him. 

"Your tits are probably the only part of you that I love.” he muttered with a smirk. You hummed in response.

He moved your hips, enough to place his cock against your entrance and started to push in. The feeling of his length stretching you out was consuming, you open your mouth letting gasps and soft moans fall out of it. Aegon frowned, and you saw him struggling to not whimper. You felt so fucking good. 

"Fucking- Gods, you're so tight." He whined, kept pushing himself in. He was doing it slowly, as if he was trying to take his time with you. "Mhm… your cunt is taking me so well."

Your hips twitched with his words, and Aegon groaned because of it. He also felt how you clenched around him and he could not help but smirk. 

With one more push he was buried deep inside of you. His hands were grabbing your arse, his nails digging your skin; the feeling of you squeezing was so good, so delicious, that it was making him weak on the knees. He was afraid to drop you, so he held you tightly between his body and the pillar behind you. 

He started to move, and that is when you lost your last pinch of sanity. He filled you up so good it made your body tense. He would start slowly, getting used to the feeling of you before his hips quickened the pace. You couldn't help but moan. 

"Ow… that's it," You whimpered, "Yes…"

"You like that, huh?" He spoke, breathlessly. "Does my cock feel good for you, dear?" 

You closed your eyes, and nodded. You were too drunk in pleasure to even realize he had used his mocking tone once again. 

"Fuck- yes!" You unconsciously yelped a bit too loud. 

Aegon covered your mouth quickly. Your eyes fluttered open only to find his face mere inches away from you. His cheeks were red, his eyes glistening with a layer of lust in them, and his smug smirk on his face.

"Sh, sh…" He whispered, his cock still pushing deep inside of you as he did. You were almost drooling, "You don't want to be too loud, do you? Someone might find us…"

The mere thought of someone walking in you two in this position was enough to have you whining again. It felt so wrong, so forbidden that it added some adrenaline to this situation, and that feeling went straight to your drenching cunt, which once again clenched around his length, making him hum in delight. 

"Oh, fuck," he sighed, "your cunt is so eager for my cock, isn't it?" he groaned. 

You grasped his hair in your fist and roughly pulled it. Aegon's head fell backwards as a surprisingly loud whine left his lips. The hand that was covering your mouth went to your breast. 

"Just shut up and fuck me," you said grunting. Aegon's eyes widened as you pulled his hair again, and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. He nodded, surprisingly submitted to your words. 

His movements soon fastened. His sack was smacking against your arse as your skin slapped, echoing around the empty hall. Your slick covered his length, making so much easier the process of fucking you restlessly. He was not helding back, he was being as rough as he could. The desire was burning inside his body, and he forgot all those years of rivalry between you two once he saw the way your breast would bounce in your chest with each pounding.

Now, the only thing he could think of was you, your sweet moans, and your tight little cunt. 

You were surprised to find out how vocal he was. His whimpers, moans and dirty words would reach your ears as you could only hum in response. You would tease him and mock him, but the lust running in your veins would barely let you speak properly. 

Your hand still tightened in his silver locks. Aegon’s head was now buried in your neck as both of his shaky hands were holding your hips still for him to fuck as he pleased. He was so consumed with you that he was unable to talk you through it, as he would usually do when laying with other women. Your scent, the smell of your skin and your hair was intoxicating and soon he felt as if he needed more of that. More of you.

His whimpers and grunts soon overshadowed yours. His loud sounds only made you wetter, as he kept thrusting ruthlessly against your trembling body. His hips smacking with yours, his breath against your neck… it was too much. 

“Fuck, fuck…” he would whine in your ear. His thin voice almost being comprehensible for you, “Oh, fuck, you’re- you’re so fucking… oh!”

Both of you became moaning messes as his thrusts became sloppier, his heavy breathing being constantly cut by his own moans as you could not stop gasping for air. His pounding became slower, but harder and deeper. He would lean his hips back to then push himself in one single harsh thrust. 

“I’m going- Oh, Gods! I’m so fucking close…” You warned. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder in order to find some support as your legs were already shaking. 

“Oh- I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, bunny.” He muttered.

“Yes… fuck, yes, please.” You moaned in response, without even thinking about the words that had just left your mouth. 

His grip in your hips tightened when he spilled his seed deep inside your tight walls. He whimpered so loud that he had to bite your neck to silence himself as his load brimmed you and it spilled out of your drenching cunt. 

The mere feeling of his cock twitching inside you, plus the warmth of his cum dripping down your thighs was enough to take you over the edge. A loud gasp was heard, and your release washed over your body making you shake and your hips twitch. 

“There you go…” Aegon grunted, still moving his hips as his cock softened. “Taking all my cum as the little whore you are.” 

Those words were enough to wake you up from the dream of pure pleasure you were in. You remembered where you are, who you are with. The reality striked right at your face, like a slap. and you quickly tried to push him out of you. 

Aegon, who was still too stumped with the most intense orgasm of his life, did not let you go. He frowned in confusion, however, trying to look for something that might have told him what he did wrong, and why were you trying to pull away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, still panting. 

“Just let me go.” You said, also breathing heavily. Your legs and body are still shaking. 

“What? What- what is wrong with you?” 

“You got what you wanted, now let me go or I swear I’ll-”

“Alright, alright!” He interrupted you, pulling out of you and letting you go, as you were starting to raise your voice.

He quickly put his softened cock back into his pants and brushed his hair back with his fingers, trying to regain strength in his body and to think clearly again. All of that while you were quickly removing the stains of your dress to eventually put it back on.

“Why are you acting as if I forced you to do this shit?” He questioned, almost offended.

“You planned all this, didn’t you?” You accused him, looking up at him.

“What?”

“You wanted to fuck me so then you can treat me like one of your whores!” You yelled, angry. Your voice echoing in the room.

Aegon scoffed, “you’re fucking mental,” he spat, “I knew you were fucking crazy but never to this extent.” 

“So you’re denying it?” 

“I fucked you because I fucking wanted to do it!” He raised his voice, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if you also wanted to fuck me, so now don’t complain about it.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” You spat, standing up and using your dress to cover your body, “I hope that you enjoyed it because it will never happen again.”

Aegon rolled his eyes, “Oh, gods, please no. I can’t fucking live without your cunt.” he spoke, obviously being sarcastic. 

“Fuck you!” You said.

“Fuck you too!” He yelled back. 

Your discussion was interrupted with the sound of the heavy doors being opened again. Your heart stopped for a second and you tightened the grip in the dress between your hands once you realized you were still naked. 

The faces of your mother Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent appeared in your sight. Aegon quickly walked in front of your body, as a failed attempt to cover you. 

Their expressions were worthy of a horror story. Your cheeks flustered and burning red. Aegon scoffed, softly. 

“Oh, bunny, we’re fucked.”

#ASKFKGALWLTMXANJFWKXMNWH #THE BUILT UP #HER SARCASTIC LINES #THEIR CONVO FILLED WITH HATRED ANDLUST #😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

[ecstaticactus]

blue bird cries pt.1 || aegon ii targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader summary: the fall out of aegon finding it out you could have been his bride wc: 2.7k tw: aegon targaryen, incest (cause yknow targaryen's) reader is aegon's half sister, unhealthy relationship, angst part two here!

a/n: a bit messy and rushed forgive me. slightly proof read, enjoy :)

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The doors to your chambers burst open. A handmaiden hurriedly rushed in, out of breath and in distress. She stood before you with her eyes glued to the floor. You stood from your chair worriedly approaching her. You had never seen any of the handmaidens shaken up, frazzled occasionally by arguments in court but never visibly shaken.

She was young, she could not have been much older than ten and four. With doe eyes and a round face that was red, covered with tear stains. As she tried to catch her breath her eyes watered, your heart broke for her. You led her towards your tea table, pouring her a cup of water having her sit.

“Now, what is the matter?” you asked. 

Slowly she put the cup down, “Prince Aegon requests your presence’s at once” 

You had heard of Aegon pestering the handmaidens before, you simply assumed he would flirt with them. At least that’s all the Queen-Mother chalked it up to be, you never thought twice about it taking her words at face value. Considering that when you were younger it would drive you mad to see Aegon flirt with the handmaid's while in your presence, it wasn’t until you were older did you realize it was jealousy.

You couldn’t argue the validity of what ‘pestering’ really meant since you and Aegon had long grown apart. Well. . . you grew, further and further away from him. You once had an idea of who Aegon was but you were much younger then and time had proven to change a man. The boy you had spent days attached at the hip doing everything together side by side, was no more than a stranger now. But what could he have done to have the poor girl in front of you in such a state?

Through tears she explained how drunk Aegon had gotten. How he called for three handmaidens and once they were in his chambers he berated them, tossing everything he could all throughout the walls of his chambers. Through his destruction he shouted, rambling about things the handmaidens did not understand. His obscene words were not directed at them but at the subjects of marriage and family.

The handmaiden spoke of how they tried to sooth and appease him but nothing worked. They simply moved out of his way when he tossed whatever was near his reach. And when it seemed he had tired himself out he asked for you. It began as a simple request but when one of the other handmaidens asked if he was sure the shouting began again. The young handmaiden, scared, ran out of the room to find you.

His actions hadn’t surprised you, you had heard of his drunken tantrums from Aemond. The only time you had ever seen him drunk was when Aemond dragged him out of the dinning hall when he showed up tumbling in. That was the first time you realized you had no idea who Aegon had become. You remember looking over to Helaena and feeling pity, the same pity that you felt now for the handmaiden—for having crossed paths with Aegon. 

You stood, telling the Handmaiden to follow you as you walked to Aegon’s chambers. You hadn’t spoken to him in ages, a deliberate choice you had made years before. Sometimes he would whisper something during dinner that no one would hear but you, still you paid him no mind. 

From outside of the corridor to his chambers you could hear loud thrashing. Entering Aegon’s chambers you saw the other handmaidens. They both pleaded with the rash prince, spewing a number of, “Your grace, please”, while they tried to clean everything he was throwing throughout the room. Aegon, clearly drunk, was rambling, it seemed nothing had changed in the young handmaiden’s absence. 

“Princess” the two handmaidens said in unison, bowing. This caught Aegon’s attention who stopped his rambling and stumbled towards you. 

Faced with Aegon pulled at the strings of your heart, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been before him in his chambers. He looked disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, darkness outlined beneath them, his hair greasy and stuck to his face. You swallowed your emotions, understanding you were solely here because he called.

“Leave us” you say, causing the two nameless handmaidens to take their leave. The handmaiden that fetched you turned to leave but you grabbed her hand, “Not you”

“Did you cross the sea to fetch my sister?” Aegon jabbed

Unamused you respond, “Hold your tongue”

“There is no one to offend” he played dumb

“My handmaiden is here” you stated matter-of-factly. You had no intention or need for a handmaiden but seeing her in such a fearful state upset you. 

“Your handmaiden?” he harshly asked

“Yes my handmaiden, it seems you are crueler than I thought little brother” you clasped your hands behind your back, “I should take all your handmaidens, leave you to fend for yourself”

Aegon scoffed, “Take them all I don’t care”. His eyes bore into yours, a glossy haze surrounded them.

Turning to the young girl, you spoke, “You are dismissed, thank you dear” you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, she bowed and left.

Hearing the door close you turned your attention to Aegon. 

“Have you gone mad? Do you not ever bore of terrorizing the servants?” your patience was thin for the drunken disaster your brother had become.

Ignoring your questions he turned to look for something.

“Is it true?” he asked accusingly as he rummaged through the mess on the floor, finding what he was looking for in a glass bottle. 

“Is what true?”, you asked

“Do not play coy with me!” he shouted, stalking towards you. At his proximity you saw the contents of the bottle: wine. 

“I know nothing of what you are accusing me of” you only thought of his words as those of a drunk, a man, a boy with little ambition. There was a time when Aegon’s words meant something, Yet now everything that came out of his mouth was nonsensical, he spoke solely to hear himself speak. 

His eyes were sunken, darker than you remember, “It is not an accusation if it is the truth” he spat

Annoyance crawled up your skin. It appeared when Aegon was drunk he was more of a child then he was sober.

“I am in no mood to play games” 

With his hands held up towards you as if to hold your face he shouted, “You were supposed to be my wife,” his voice wavered. 

You stood frozen, it wasn’t a secret that a year after Aegon’s birth, nearly three name days after yours; Queen Alicent and her father The Hand proposed a marriage between the two of you. The Hand suggested it under the guise of securing the Targaryen lineage, of keeping blood pure. Yet the only blood he cared about was that of his grandson’s who he thought deserved the throne. You were merely a chess piece in his grand game, one he believed he could easily move around. The King, being no fool, spoke to your eldest sister Rhaenyra. Who directly opposed the proposal settling the matter, or so you thought. Now before you stood a drunken—maddened adult Aegon. 

You had opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you.

“You were supposed to be my wife!” he shouted in your face. His threatening demeanor did nothing to frighten you.

“Where did you hear this?”

“What does it matter? It is true, is it not?” 

You paused, “You’re right, it doesn’t matter because you have a lady wife”

“It was supposed to be you,” he began to pace around the room “It was supposed to be you!”

His pacing stopped, “And you knew and told me nothing of the matter” 

After Aegon’s and Helaena’s marriage ceremony, your father had made a small comment on the Queen’s and Hand’s proposal all those years ago. He meant nothing by it, simply commenting how life works. But you felt your stomach drop at the possibility of what you and Aegon could have been, what you should have been. For days there was an anger in your heart, you hated Rhaenyra. Hated that she deprived you of marriage—of love. You grieved for a love that could have been. Days turned into weeks then into months until you fully understood why Rhaenyra rejected the proposal.

You understood that it was all a tactical plan formed by the Hand, who had no interest in seeing Rhaenyra on the throne. You separated yourself entirely from Aegon, his presence always saddened you. You couldn’t bear to be near him, every possibility of a life together flashed before your eyes. His face held every shared emotion, every whisper, every kiss on the cheek and brush of hands. 

It wasn’t like either of you had outright confessed your feelings, but both of you understood there was something neither of your young growing minds could decipher. You had known ever since you were kids that he was engaged to Helaena but it always felt so far away . . . until it wasn’t and you stood congratulating both of them. Smiling as if your heart was not being pulled apart into tatters. You had to commemorate and revere their marriage and in no better fashion could you do that than by plucking Aegon from your life completely.  

Years had solidified the stone wall that stood between the two of you, a wall you built brick by brick. But what were you supposed to do? Continue carrying on as if nothing had changed, when your entire perspective had shifted? You had to accept the truth you had spent your younger years denying, that Aegon was not yours, he could never be yours. He was your sister’s even if he did not want to be. There was no world in which the two of you could be, the only rational solution you came up with was separating yourself from him, from Helaena.

“What would telling you accomplish? I was ten and nine. You were already wed”

“I had a right to know! To have chosen you!”

Anger began to pool around your feet. Of course there was a time you indulged in the idea of being Aegon’s, of being his wife. When you were kids and would wreak havoc all throughout the Red Keep. But time had proved that impossible, the matter was out of your hands, out of your control, long before you ever loved Aegon. Yet he blamed you, as if you were the one who rejected his hand in marriage. As if you were the one that ordered he and Helaena be wed. But it wasn’t just that he pushed blame onto you that angered you, it was his dismissiveness towards his wife. His wife who bore his children, who was your sister—your gentle and kind sister. 

“It would do you well to remember you are married to Helaena. Have some respect, some fucking decency if not for yourself, for her” 

He laughed mockingly, “My lady wife—her sole accomplishment is bearing my children”

At his insult your hand struck him across the face. Instantly you regret it, guilt washed over you as your hand throbbed from impact. Having never hit anyone before you stepped backwards frightened at your own actions, violence was never your forte.

Aegon held his cheek looking at you, before you could even think of what to utter he lunged at you. His hands found themselves around your neck but his grip never tightened. His hands were hot and you could feel your pulse beat against his skin. He held you like his hands were made to adorn your neck. You tried to find a feeling of fear or anxiety within but the only thing you could feel was Aegon’s breath on yours. Fixated by his hands you hadn’t realized how close his face was, his lips only a simple word away. Looking up to meet his eyes, your heart began to beat wildly as if it were trying to escape your body. You both stood stuck, unwilling to move.

A beat passed and you could not let his drunken disrespect towards your sister idly go, he had to know of his insolence. What honor was their in letting a man disrespect his wife in ones presence?

“I love you—” you confessed as his hands began to squeeze, “more than I should but I will not have you disrespect your wife-” his grips tightened, “-our sister in my presence” you clawed at his hands trying to stop him. Your eyes began to water as your last breaths of air were being squeezed out of you. Before you could even beg him to stop—to let you go, his lips were pressed onto yours. 

Shocked and practically melting into his lips, you began to love his hands wrapped around your throat: killing you. He kissed you desperately, his lips were wet mixed with saliva and wine. His teeth clashed onto yours, his tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. Your last shreds of sense screamed at you all at once to get away—get away from Aegon. To separate yourself from his hands, from his lips, from the heat of his body pressed to yours. You began trying to push him away, for a chance of air. Nothing worked, you pushed, shoved and scratched but your limbs began to feel numb. Aegon simply tightened his grip even more, you had to get him off quickly. 

In a last attempt to escape his grasp you bit his bottom lip. Aegon yelped in pain, releasing you bringing his hands to his face as he touched his lip. Coughing you tried to regain your breath, your throat felt like it was on fire. Catching your breath you saw his lip bleeding. But nothing on Aegon’s face suggested he was angry or upset, he simply smiled at the blood on his fingers.

“You would have been the most glorious wife in all of Westeros”

Having had enough of his antics you made your way to the doors of his chambers. You nearly make your escape before Aegon’s hand caught your wrist, pulling you away from the doors and into him. 

“Stop this” you warned, pushing him away. It was wrong you knew but the first moments of his lips on yours made it seem right. His hands wrapped around your throat moments ago, and yet instead of fleeing his chambers out of fear you stood wanting more. 

“Stop this!?” he laughed mocking you, “You abandon me for years and now you want to relinquish yourself of me again”

“I left you to your matrimony! Has your mind shriveled up and died? You married and I honored that!” anger and frustration flooded your body, why couldn’t Aegon be an adult about this. Why couldn't he be rational and sensible as you had been the last couple of years.

He closed the distance between the two of you, “My matrimony is nothing but a sham, and you know it” 

“Sham or not I will continue to uphold your vows even if you will not”

“You will continue to scorn me” 

Upset by his lack of understanding you knew the only way you could get your point across—to get him to understand would be to chastise him. It was the last thing you wanted to do, seeing how his mother and grandfather had done so all his life. But there was nothing else you could do.

Pulling the dagger from your mouth sharpening your words, making sure every word cut into his skin you spoke;

“Scorn you?” you laughed in frustration, “You are nothing but a drunk, a stain on the Targaryen lineage, a misfortune of your name sake, if ever anyone was less worthy of carrying the Targaryen name it would be you”

Aegon flinched after every cut, his eyes watered, his cheeks were flooded with pink, his breaths became uneven. He looked so poetically pathetic, and it was all because of you. Not being able to bear the sight of him any longer you left his chambers. Fleeing the destruction you had caused, the pain you had inflicted, words you could never take back. 

You had crossed the point of no return, through tears you knew you would have to live knowing you had killed any hope of rekindling your relationship with Aegon. Your entire body felt hollow, an empty shell of the girl you once were. You could no longer blame fate for robbing you of love, you weaved your own destruction.

[ecstaticactus]

whispers of summer fervor || aegon ii targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader summary: Fire and Blood—you were etched out of those great words. Born covered in a veil of maroon with the stench of death. A hollow child with sunken eyes kissed by the very fire that gave your family their power. When the dragon egg in your crib never hatched you were thrown into the dragon’s den. Ignited by a dragon who was not yours to claim, your skin holding the memories of your failure. The Cursed Targaryen Princess—without a mother, without a dragon, and maimed. Your misfortunes were a stain upon the tapestry of the Targaryen legacy.  or Being the disgraced child of King Viserys and abandoned by your eldest sister pushes you into the arms of her opposition, leading to your support of Aegon’s claim.  wc: 5.1k tw: slight ooc aegon, angst, rhaenyra is usurped, rhaenyra slander, daddy issues, mommy issues, viserys is a shity dad, burn scars, reader is born from aemma but skintone & physical features are never discussed, canon divergence, incest cause yknow targaryens, bastard slander, hints of misogyny

a/n: i usually write (or try to) a reader who is neutral to the whole blacks vs green, but not today! rhaenyra is the rightful heir—always—but for the sake of this fic she is not. also i’ve been neglecting completing my uni assignments to finish this lol, enjoy!!! p.s. not proofread

☆━━━━☆━━━━☆

Fire and Blood—the words of your House. 

Fire and Blood—a warning to those who would ever think of opposing the Targaryen dynasty. 

Fire and Blood—a declaration of war met with threats disguised as promises. 

You were etched out of those great words. Born covered in a veil of maroon with the stench of death. A hollow child with sunken eyes kissed by the very fire that gave your family their power. When the dragon egg in your crib never hatched you were thrown into the dragon’s den. Ignited by a dragon who was not yours to claim, your skin holding the memories of your failure. The Cursed Targaryen Princess—without a mother, without a dragon, and maimed.  Your misfortunes were a stain upon the tapestry of the Targaryen legacy. 

A fate you were lucky enough to not shoulder alone, Aegon like you was born of your mothers blood. Born out of a desperate need to uphold old customs and beliefs. While his birth was celebrated it also split the Realm, whispers of his right as future king followed him throughout his life. The notions of king left heavy expectations for him to shoulder, expectations he never met, always falling short in one way or another. Resulting in his feverish drinking and promiscuity.

You are both young when you realize the shortcomings of your livelihoods. The drop in your father’s voice whenever he spoke of you. The frigid overcast that glazed over his eyes when his eyes set on you. The blatant favoritism he showed towards your much older sister—the tenderness in his eyes was a warmth you had never felt. His disdain leaked into your interactions; an uncomfortable shadow fell upon his brow whenever you were in his presence. As if your very being pained him, and how could it not? You were the walking reminder of his wife’s death, of his failure as not just a husband but a King. 

Aegon knows the resentment his mother harbors towards him despite her denial. Her first born conceived of a loveless marriage. She had been a girl and made a monarch overnight and some months later a mother. She was robbed of her girlhood and tied to the crown forever and Aegon had been the first nail in her coffin. Aegon represented every sacrifice she had made and his constant rebellion felt like an insult to everything Alicent lost. 

You understood one another, in ways many could not. Cut from the same cloth amalgamations of Targaryen indulgence, stubbornness, and passion. The least favored children of the King and Queen, bonded over neglect and resentment.

Years forged your attachment into blind fidelity, a sickly devotion that was rooted in your hearts like oaths. The world hardly existed outside the two of you and it didn’t stop for anyone without the Targaryen name. While many believed there were no exceptions to your coterie, they would find themselves proven wrong. For nearest and dearest to you was Helaena and Aemond, both as intertwined with one another as you and Aegon. 

Though the four of you were close none of you shared an inkling of a relationship with your eldest sister. Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone and never turned back, no word or ravens ever arrived in her stead. 

When she had resided in the Keep she made no effort to hide her aversion towards you. She was a specter in your memory and marked as a heathen by the Queen. The Queen marked Rhaenyra a great many things and left a bitter child you swallowed her words like water.

It came to no surprise to anyone when the Queen announced that Vaemond Velaryon was bringing into question the validity of your nephew’s claim to Driftmark. After all Rhaenyra had done a very poor job of hiding her indiscretions. 

━━☆━━

On the day of the trial you sit in front of the hearth dreading the affair that was to come. As the hours passed you prepared to become a part of the circus, another spectacle for the Lord and Ladies of the Kingdom to gawk at. Prying eyes were always trying to glimpse at your injury, trying to validate the whispers of gossip they had heard. They were children and you, a parable came to life—a reminder of how cruel the Gods could be. The Cursed Targaryen Princess who could not hatch or claim a dragon. A clear demonstration that even the Targaryens were exempt from their own fire. 

Eyes followed you even when not a single body was around. They haunted you mercilessly. The constant feeling never allows you to inhabit your body comfortably. It was the reason many of your dresses had been tailored towards your lesions. Tailored towards the concealment of the damaged  skin of your shoulder and upper arm. 

Your dresses always had long sleeves even during the hot summers. The scars that could not be hidden with fabric were hidden by your hair. Never was your hair tied up or styled in extravagant fashion. It was only ever neatly placed out of your face in a simple manner. 

With the sound of your chambers doors opening you surface from thought. Aegon steps into view, freshly bathed with his hair combed and wearing an exasperated look. 

“The Keep is a mess” he says slumping down next to you. He throws his head back leaning uncomfortably on the divan 

“Your sisters arrival warrants pageantry” 

“Your sister” he clarifies 

You scoff, Rhaenyra had not been your sister in years. She had always tried to marry you off to a Lannister or whatever Lord presented himself as willing. She thought you incompetent and arrogant, endowments she believed were smears of her mothers memory. 

She was one to cast judgment, you’re sure Aemma would not have been keen on having illegitimate grandsons. What was the saying of House Arryn… As High as Honor. Bastards were anything but. 

“Has she not summoned you?” he looks at you curiously

“She has,” you respond boredly. A servant had entered your chambers the day prior, her head tilted towards the floor as she spoke. Her timidness struck you as odd and instantly you knew she was one of Rhaenyra’s. With a smile you sent her back to her mistress, refusing to tangle yourself in her web.

Aegon smirks, “She is to be Queen and you deny her” 

“She pedals falsehoods and you forget she is not Queen yet”

He laughs shifting in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. While you hated being watched, Aegon's gaze was different. He was never trying to pry you open or overzealous with morbid curiosity. He always regarded you with esteemed affection and tenderness. 

After a long pause you say, “Is there something on my face?”

His stare doesn’t waiver and he doesn’t respond. It is rare when he forgets how bewitching you could be but when it strikes him, he is at a loss for words—overwhelmed by the realization. His eyes shine with novelty as if it is the first time he has ever laid eyes on you. As if you were the grand encompass of the ocean and he was ready to dive in.

You utter his name and he’s awoken from the spell he had been under. 

He stands offering his hand, “We should take our leave now”

“You’ve never been one for punctuality” you tease and he smiles

“No, but I have been informed to behave. To present an image of regalness and grace” a laugh escapes his lips, “As if I am Aemond”

Now you laugh taking his hand, “He is much more regal than you” 

Aegon clutches his chest just over his heart, feigning hurt, “You injure me”

With your arms laced together you set off to find Aemond and Helaena. It would have been improper for Aegon to enter without his wife and for you to show up in the arms of a married man—regardless if he was your brother. It was a rule the four of you rarely followed but today was not the day to deter away from customs. 

Helaena is the first to spot you in the halls, Aemond is with her. A bright smile displayed on her face as she said your name. You can’t help but admire her, always effortlessly beautiful and far more intelligent than anyone gave her credit for. The picture of what women of your house were to be, beautiful, intelligent, and dragon riders. Everything you were not and though she did not hatch an egg she had claimed Dreamfyre. You should have been mad with envy but no such ill feeling ever came.

You loved her, perhaps no envy was born due to your ever present feeling of having to protect her. Of shielding her from the claws that embedded themselves into Keep. Destroying any sight of light or innocence. Fearing she would be treated like you had been. 

You depart from Aegon to greet Helaena with a kiss on the cheek. Moving towards Aemond to do the same, he greets you with a compliment before extending his arm for you to take. 

“Always so chivalrous” you say loud enough for Aegon to hear

━━☆━━

The hearing had gone to shit. Your father made a surprising appearance, Vaemond had died, Lucerys was still heir to Driftmark, and everything was as it had been the day before. 

You stand beside Aegon and Aemond in the dining hall, the room is lit by candle light as chatter fills the air. 

“What a waste of time” Aegon huffs

“Dinner or the hearing?” 

“Both. Lucerys is still heir and Daemon suffers no consequences.”

Aemond chimes in, “Their breaths are an insult to everything we stand for”

You nod about to speak when the sound of the wooden door opening announces the arrival of the King. Quickly everyone settles to stand before their seats, seating only after the King is seated. 

Your father greets everyone with a hoarse voice. He wears a golden mask on the rotten side of his face and he breathes as though it pains him. 

“Prayer before we begin?” The Queen asks and he nods 

Instantly your head is bowed, your hands are in your lap, and your eyes are closed. Prayer had become a daily ritual before dinner and it was always led by the Queen. 

Before the prayer is over you feel the sensation of eyes on your skin. You think it to be one of your nephews but when the prayer is over you see it is Rhaenyra. 

Her eyes are casted with an emotion you cannot read and they soon drop to your shoulder. Eyeing the scars that edged just above your shoulder and the base of your neck. 

Feeling the scrutiny of her gaze, your hands find your hair moving it to disrupt her viewing. You had been judged by the vultures of the Seven Kingdoms, you would not allow Rhaenyra to do the same. 

The expression on your face is clear, Rhaenyra has gotten to you. 

Aegon notices your discomfort, notices how your hair now falls over your chest, and how your eyes are focused on the empty plate before you. Instantly he knows someone is to blame. He first assumes it to be Daemon, his uncle was crude and unceremonious. Having little regard for the people around him, not bothering with niceties. 

But when he sees Rhaenyra attentively watching you—casting judgment—he knows it was her. Aegon almost laughs at her hypocrisy, as if she out of anyone had any right to look down upon others. 

If his sister wanted something to look at, then he as a gracious brother would oblige in the only way he knew how, by causing a scene. The one thing Aegon was adept at was getting under people's skin, poking and prodding until they burst. 

He leans towards Jacaerys spewing his obnoxious rambling. When his nephew bites back Aegon leans back in his chair reveling in the beginning of his antics. 

The sound of wood scraping against stone makes you cringe, your father is standing removing his mask displaying the rot that has taken over the left side of his face. Eye’s are averted at the bare sight of the King’s face, but you are accustomed to seeing rotten skin. His teeth can be seen through his cheek, the muscle stretching and contracting as he speaks—it's a morbid sight. 

He speaks of reconciliation and forgiveness but you pay him no mind. Besides you, Aemond keeps his eyes forward, Helaena has her eyes on the wooden table, and Aegon’s jaw is tight as he stares at his wine cup. 

You spent the next couple of moments with your head in the clouds. Surfacing from thought when Rhaenyra toasts to the Queen, thanking her for looking after the King. You’re surprised when the Queen follows after, her kind words confound you. But you have no time to think them over as Aegon stands from his seat. Stepping between Jacaerys and Baela pouring wine into his cup.

Aemond looks suspiciously towards you but you had no answers to give him. When his eye leaves you the table shakes and Jacaerys stands as Aegon sits. With furrowed brows you look at Aegon who sips on his wine with ease. 

The room falls silent and Aegon is reviling in the tension, trying not to smile triumphantly as he uses his cup as a shield. 

The tension in the room grows thicker when Aemond stands. He’s looking at Jacaerys with the marksmanship of a hunter who had spotted their prey. 

Eyes shift and concern is painted on the faces of almost everyone. 

Jacaerys playfully hits his uncle on the shoulder, raising his cup as he smiles at Aemond, “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth” Jacaerys pauses looking between his uncles, “And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles”

Across the table you see the snarky smiles of Jacaerys’ betrothed and Lucerys. Their smugness lights a flame in the furnace of your heart. You have half a mind to stand with Aemond, to show that their disrespect would not be tolerated. 

“To you as well,” Aegon says 

When Aemond sits you lean towards him, “Fucking miscreants”

“Vermin” he responds as Helaena stands. 

She smiles excitedly holding her cup of wine, “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon” she turns to them, “It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk” she smiles

You let out a small laugh at her words. Aegon was rather whinny when drunk, he became a rambling needy mess who desperately wanted attention. And you were always there to give it to him in any shape or form that he needed it in. 

Smiling, you raise your cup towards Helaena, “Hear, Hear”. The scarlet wine falls down your throat with ease and your moment of enjoyment is shortly ruined by an approaching Jacaerys. 

His eyes are set on Helaena as he extends his hand asking her to dance. To your dismay she takes his hand without hesitation. You’re staring daggers at the Prince, indignation replaces the taste of wine in your mouth. Helaena was far too kind for the world. 

Aegon’s eyes catch yours before he looks at Jacaerys dancing with his wife, disbelief and annoyance clear in his face. 

In one swift motion you move to stand beside Aegon, “The apple does not fall from the tree” you glare at the hazel haired prince, expecting a response from Aegon but you get none. Confused, you turn towards Aegon only to find him gazing across the table. He’s quiet as he sips from the cup in his hand watching Rhaenyra laugh and talk with their father. Viserys is smiling and coughing through his laughter and it is the most alive he has been in years. 

“She arrives and suddenly he can will himself to walk and attend supper” he says only for you to hear 

You look up towards the sight of his words—your father and Rhaenyra and you understand. His jab was not said out of anger but out of a feeling of lacking. All the traits and characteristics Rhaenyra had that he did not, the love of their father she had that he did not. 

“You’re jealous” 

He turns towards you, “Are you not?”

“No”, you lie

“She’s father’s favorite”, he’s looking up at you through his lashes, “I’m the son he killed for and it is not enough”

You avert your gaze, his words struck like an arrow. A part of you had always felt responsible for the birth of Aegon. At fault for the death of your mother, the death of your brother, and the birth of Aegon. If you had not been a butcher, if you had been a boy his burden would be yours.

“You didn’t kill anyone Aegon” you sip wine solemnly, your posture falters, and your head is half hung. 

Aegon notices your somber spirit and his eyes soften realizing the error in his words, “I’m sorry, I meant no offense”

“I know”, is all you say returning to your seat

As the night passes you eat and make conversation with Aemond. For most of the night his eye is set on the dancing prince and princess. Occasionally when he looks at you his lips pull upwards in a smile.

After your father retires for the night, servants enter with more food. A cooked pig is laid out before you and before you can think Aemond’s fist hits the table as he stands. 

“Final tribute” 

All eyes fall on Aemond and the room goes quiet.

“To the health of my nephews. Jace…Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he pauses and it is as if all the air in the room has been cast out, “strong”

Your eyes widen in shock as the Queen pleads with Aemond. 

“Come let us drain our cups to these three…strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again” 

Aemond turns towards Jacaerys, “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment”, they both walk towards one another, “Do you not think yourself strong?”

Lucerys rises from his seat as Jacaerys strikes Aemond, Aegon is not far behind grabbing his nephew and slamming him against the table. 

Bolting upwards you grab Helaena pulling her away from the chaos. She grips your hand tightly frightened by the scene. 

“Are you alright?” you ask

She nods, “Yes but Aemond” her hand points at the exiting prince. Understanding, you pull Helaena, following Aemond. 

Once you’re in the halls you follow the sounds of Aemond’s steps, Helaena runs towards him. She latches onto the side of his arm soothing the riled prince. You’re about to do the same when laughter echoes from beyond the hallway—Aegon. 

Grabbing the side of your dresses you hold it up allowing yourself quicker movements. With your approach the shadow of Aegon grows smaller and his laughter grows louder. 

You say his name as you grab his arm. When he lays his eyes on you they widen excitedly, your name falls from his lips, “You are a vision. Have I told you that? Come, come, let us retreat into our burrow”. He gives you no time to respond as he throws an arm around you and leads you away. 

The burrow was a small unfinished room at the far end of the Keep that had been hidden by a suit of armor; it had been discovered by Aegon when he was ten and two. Immediately he ran to inform you about it, dragging you into the room. It is not large like either of your chambers but it’s spacious enough that both of you can move without bumping into one another. Rugs and sheets hung throughout the floor and walls hiding the decaying walls. Bottles of wine littered the room, both empty and full. 

Aegon is drunkenly rambling, as you make sure there is no one around to see you gently push past the suit, “”Twas only a compliment” he mimics Aemond’s voice. 

Sitting near the corner of the room you grab a bottle and Aegon moves towards you. He rests his head against your lap spilling wine into your dress, not that you cared. He’s laughing recalling the events of the night.

With a laugh you respond, “Jacaerys’ stance was laughable, he looked like a child throwing a tantrum” 

“He is to be King”, his laugh dies as the sentence leaves his lips, “He is to be King” 

You both grow quiet, the words weigh heavy over the both of you. The realities of a future that is so close to becoming reality. If you were believed to be a stain on the Targaryen legacy, Rhaenyra's children were desecrations to the Targaryen dynasty.

“Perhaps your mother is right,” you sip from the bottle of wine not fully thinking about the words as you speak, “Perhaps you should be King”

Aegon half laughs, pushing himself into a sitting position, “You speak of treachery” 

“Your mother says—”

“My mother is crazed on a notion that we will be slain” 

You wish you could believe him, but the image of your sister's husband swinging his sword without mercy does not leave your mind. How easy it would be for Rhaenyra to rid herself of you once she is Queen; there were fates far worse than death. 

“Enough talk of foreboding futures. Let us drink ourselves blind” 

“Hear! Hear!” you eagerly agree

True to Aegon’s words you both drink until your visions are blurred and the room spins. You both dance and drink carelessly, laughing as though the events of the night had no effect on you. It comes as no surprise when Aegon leans towards you and presses his lip on yours. The kiss is sloppy and full of hunger, your teeth clash and tongues swipe over one another. There’s a desperation in his hands—in the way he holds your face obstructing any movement. In the heat of passion you bite his bottom lip earning a yelp from Aegon. 

He pulls away with a smile, “Ow”

Your hand rest on his chest playfully, “Don’t be a child, I didn’t draw blood” 

The rest of the night blurs into a giant mirage of jubilation. 

━━☆━━

As the sun rose you wake with a yawn, your body aching from the uncomfortable position it had been in all night. Your head had been on Aegon’s lap and his arm had been thrown over your body. Maneuvering from his embrace you press your back firmly on the brick wall, your head throbbing feeling as though it had been repeatedly bashed.

The sun’s rays kiss your cheeks, it's warm and gentle and for a brief moment the world around you falls into obscurity. Nothing else matters beside the sun’s golden touch and the beating of your own heart. 

The body besides you grumbles and your moment of serenity shatters as Aegon slowly stirs into consciousness. You’re brought back into the arms of reality.

“Wine,” he says, “More wine”

You don’t waste your breath, instead you make your way to your chambers. Stumbling the first few steps out of the room. Peeking your head out of the door way you make sure there is no one around before exiting. 

Walking down the corridors there is an air of urgency within the Keep. There were twice as many Knights as you were accustomed to seeing and servants hurried into the direction of the Great Hall. Regardless you carry on, not bothering to greet any of the people who greeted or called after you. 

Approaching the hallway to your chambers you’re unexpectedly faced with the sight of your wooden doors wide open. Stepping closer you see three figures standing at the center of your room; Aemond, Ser Criston, and the Queen.

Puzzlement rests on your brow, what had transpired in the hours you and Aegon had disappeared. As you continue your approach you can see the faces of your visitors all displaying an array of emotions.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston states as you walk through the threshold, “The Princess”

The Queen turns towards you instantly, wasting no time in embracing you, “Oh sweet girl” 

Her embrace wasn’t foreign but the sudden action confuses you further. 

“Where have you been? Where is Aegon?” she pulls away but keeps her hands on your arms

You looked towards Aemond trying to find any answers on his face but there were none. 

“I’ve just left Aegon. Has something happened?” 

“Where is he?” The Queen’s grip on your arm tightens. Desperation is in her eyes and it frightens you, enough that you decided to keep Aegon's whereabouts to yourself for the time being.

“We snuck out of the Keep last night. Upon returning to the castle Aegon left my side” 

She turns towards her sworn Knight an unsaid order ushering him quickly from your chambers, Aemond follows suit. 

When they’re gone you repeat your question, “Has something happened?”

“Your father is dead, he died in his sleep”

Her voice was grave and her words echo in your mind but you can’t decipher them. It’s as if you have lost the ability to comprehend the common tongue. 

A moment passes and you realize what your step mother had said. Silently you wait for grief but it never arrives, there is no sadness in your heart, no invading sorrow. Your father is dead and you shed no tears for his memory. 

“I–I need a moment,” you pull away but before you can leave the Queen pulls you towards her. Her hand is under your chin lifting your head just enough to meet her gaze.

Her eyes are round and full of distress, “You know where Aegon is, I beg of you, bring him to me. It was the King’s dying wish. Do not let my father get his hands on him first”

You nod and hurriedly walk out of your chambers, returning to your burrow. The throbbing in your head returns but you try to disregard the discomfort, there were far more pressing matters. 

The closer you got towards Aegon the faster your move, breaths of air forcibly escape as enter through the hidden door. You thank the Gods when you see Aegon in the same position he had been when you left. You rush to his side, dropping to your knees shaking him.

“Aegon, Aegon. Wake up, Wake up”

He groans and his speech is slurs. Letting his arms go, he slouches into a half sitting position half laying. His eyes flutter open for a moment and your name falls from his lips. 

“‘Tis me,” you cup the cheeks of his face almost painfully. He tries to move away from you but you do not yield, “Aegon, father is dead”

You watch your words register in his mind. He blinks his eyes open and takes a breath, pushing you aside. 

“Your jest are not appreciated, my head is murderous” 

“It is no jest, the King died in his sleep” 

Like you had with the Queen, Aegon takes a moment, his eyes are wide looking through you making sense of your words. 

“Father is dead” he repeats. His hand passes through his hair, a look of distress clear on his sunken face

“Yes and your mother and grand feather are searching for you”

“For me? What could they want—”

Realization hits you both like a strong gust of wind, knocking all the air out of the room. The line of succession crosses your mind for the first time. You had thought nothing of the Queen’s words about your fathers dying wish but you understood them now. Of course, the Keep was in disarray because the Hand was trying to sit Aegon on the throne before news of the King’s death spread.

“They mean to crown you” 

Crowning Aegon would be treason and all those who participated would be punished with death. The idea does not frighten you as much as the idea of Rhaenyra on the throne. You’d surely be sent away, sold off to be the pretty little Targaryen wife of Lord who’d defile you. And the realm would fall to pieces with a spiteful malicious woman at its helm. 

Aegon looks at you horrified, “No. They can’t. I am not heir”

“That does not matter, it was the King’s dying wish to have you succeed him”

“On whose word?”

“Your mother’s”

Aegon scoffs, “She is crazed, fuelled by her hatred for Rhaenyra”

“You may think her crazed, but your mother is a woman of the Gods, she would not lie about a matter of this caliber”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it quickly. His back is against the wall, he looks disheveled, dirty, and disarranged. Tears swell in his eyes and he swipes them away with his sleeve. 

“A dying wish he had years to fulfill” 

“I know not the whims of old Kings, but I know regret. It is clear in the words he spoke to your mother that he wanted you on the throne, his first born son” 

“What kind of brother would I be to take the throne from Rhaenyra?” 

“By the law of Gods and Men the throne is yours. You cannot steal what is rightfully yours” 

“I do not want the throne” he argues 

“Aegon” you plead 

“No! I will not take it,” swiftly his hand grab yours, “Let us climb on board a ship escape to Essos or on dragonback—”

You interrupt his crazed thoughts squeezing his hands, “Listen, Rhaenyra only cares for her own, she has never cared for us. If you let her ascend the throne what will come of your mother? Of Aemond? Of Helaena and your children? ” you pause, “Of me? She sees my existence as blasphemous and yours as opposition. If we leave we are leaving those we love to die. Ascend the throne Aegon, protect us” 

Silence encompassed the room, Aegon ran his eyes over your face searching for answers, trying to understand what was being asked of him and if he could undertake such a task. You return his gaze with soft eyes and gentle hands. 

He had never thought himself a leader let alone a King. He did not want the pressures and responsibilities of leading an entire land. Aegon would no longer be able to hide under his title of prince, as King. He would have to be the picture of Targaryen greatness and regalness—heavy is the head that wears the crown. He wants to laugh at the notion but his chest is heavy with your words. 

“Do you understand?” there’s a desperate edge in your voice and he doesn’t respond, “Aegon, do you understand?”

“Yes,” he nods

#this fic made me team gree- #LOVE LOVE LOOOOVE

[ecstaticactus]

Duty

Summary: The only thing Aegon knows is the bitterness of duty. Could you be your salvation?

A/N: English is not my first language. Sorry for mistakes. READ THE WARNINGS! Ok, surprisingly I wrote something that wasn't for Aemond, I deserve an award hahaha but then I decided to write for Aegon because I honestly don't think he's 100% good or 100% evil (just like anyone else in that series) I believe he has nuances that can be put to good use. Anyway, I had fun writing this. Hope you like it too!

Warnings: nsfw, +18, forced marriage, rape (it's quick, but if u are sensitive to this topic, please don't read) angst, aegon is its own warning, aegon stupid, aegon being aegon, he regrets it, hurt reader, hurt feelings, some sweetness at the end ...

Aegon knew bitterness.

He knew the bitterness of having his fate entirely controlled by ventriloquists in pompous robes. He knew the bitterness of always being the family's disappointment. He knew the bitterness of never being good enough. He knew the bitterness of not being loved. Not even by his own mother.

Aegon was crowned against his will, the weight of leading a nation fell on his shoulders even though he tried his best to avoid such a thing. And he really tried. There was nothing more to be done to prove that he wasn't fit for that responsibility. His younger brother - irritatingly perfect and learned in every way - was the one who should shoulder such a burden.

Why couldn't anyone but him in this damn court see this?

And when another duty presented itself in front of him, once again he couldn't refuse. This time the duty took the form of a bride.

Aegon was King now. And as such, it was his duty-that damn word again chasing him every second of every fucking day-to produce offspring. The bastards he had around didn't count, apparently. He needed to marry legally, before gods and men, and only then could he truly begin to produce legitimate heirs.

That part shouldn't be difficult, at least.

The first time he saw you was at the engagement dinner hosted by your mother. You were a Lannister, from Casterly Rock, the perfect image of what a lady should be. You were beautiful - Aegon was not blind - you were polite, intelligent and graceful. This made Aegon furious. Because he saw right through you. With just a few hours that you and he were in the same environment, he knew this was a trap. He knew who you really were was so buried beneath the damned duty that even you didn't know who you were and who you were supposed to be anymore.

You stood there, kind and thoughtful words to everyone at the table, shy smiles and perfect manners when eating. Aegon hated that. At no time that night did he address you, although you made many gentle attempts to strike up a conversation, his wineglass constantly being filled as he drank it down. And even when he started making a scene, even when everyone at the table looked at him like he was the biggest scum in this world, you were the only one who dared look at him knowingly. He saw your eyes flicker in understanding and pity, as if you knew and understood what he was feeling.

That night, when everyone was in their quarters, Aegon took the familiar path to the House of Pleasures. He'd fucked more than one woman that night, hatred somehow always the spur to his darkest, sickest desires. And yet, it was your fucking face that came to his mind as he cum each time.

The wedding celebration was dull and interminable. Aegon drank and spoke aloud, trying to distract himself from the fact that another part of him was dying while doing another duty to the Realm.

You looked stunning in your wedding dress. Hair wavy and braided flawlessly, not a single strand out of place. Your manners were as perfect as ever, even when you realized he was already drunk.

As you both retreated to the bedroom a string of male screams and laughter followed the two of you. The only reason Aegon had not allowed the bed ceremony was because his mother, Alicent, had forbidden him to do so. And who was he to deny anything, right? But Aegon wanted, he wanted more than anything to see you so embarrassed and humiliated to have your clothes forcibly ripped off by other men that this damned cover of yours would finally fall apart.

When they arrived at the room Aegon didn't give you time to prepare for what would happen, he took off your dress in a hurry, some buttons bouncing and rolling across the stone floor, startling you. He pushed your naked body onto the bed and climbed on top of you, gripping your breasts tightly, desperate to break you somehow, in any way possible. His cock was instantly hard at the sight of your exposed, quivering body. His big hands squeezing every visible part roughly, leaving bruises along the way. He didn't prepare you to receive him, too drunk and too hateful for such kindness. He just parted your legs and buried himself between them.

His impulse inside you was punitive, angry and selfish. He didn't stop, not even when he looked into your eyes for the first time that night and saw you crying as you clutched the bed furs, as if your life depended on it. Your pretty, delicate face was scrunched up, jaw set to keep any complaints from leaving your lips and eyes leaking water continuously. But you didn't look away from his, as if you wanted him to see the pain he was inflicting on you.

Aegon felt rotten inside, as if there was nothing remotely human inside him anymore. And maybe it didn't even exist, who knew? So he forced himself to continue, his cock rushing in and out of your pussy, the only lubrication being the blood of your purity, your body churning beneath him until he came, his cum painting your walls as he moaned hoarsely beside from your ear.

As Aegon emerged from your body he saw a mixture of blood and sperm seep between your legs before you rolled onto your side in a ball and cried softly.

He left after that, still hearing your sob as he closed the door and headed for his own room.

Even when he could no longer hear you, Aegon thought he would never be able to get the painful sound of your cry out of his mind.

After that night Aegon did not go to your room for many other nights. He didn't get the satisfaction he imagined he would get from getting a real reaction out of you. In fact he constantly felt guilty, he felt filthy in a way he had never felt before. It wasn't the first time he'd been harsh with a woman, but somehow seeing your face contorted in pain because of him left him deeply unsettled this time.

He saw you reading in the silence of the library, in the gardens with your sister, during meals and events that required your presence now that you were the Queen. And every time he saw you, Aegon had the urge to speak to you. Damn, you were his wife, he had every right to talk to you. But none of those times could he muster the right words to say to you.

After all, what words should a man use to apologize for raping his own wife?

And so several days passed. Visits to the brothel became increasingly scarce as Aegon found himself unwilling to go back there. Which surprised everyone, including himself. But between the endless, tedious duties as King and the constant demands of his mother, Aegon could only think of you, there was no more room for whores on his mind.

You acted as if nothing had happened, the same kindness as before the wedding continued to be extended to everyone.

To everyone but him.

Except for times when the two of you were required to be together as a couple, you avoided him like the plague. When he managed to look into your eyes he saw nothing, it was as if you didn't even recognize his presence. You seemed permanently empty to him. Broken.

Aegon could find no reason to blame you for such an attitude.

He could be seriously unhinged and even sick at times, but he wasn't a monster at all. He knew he had done something very wrong to you. With you of all people, the first person to look at him with some level of understanding.

Aegon knew he needed to set things right. He just didn't know how.

A few more days went by with things exactly the same and Aegon just couldn't take it anymore. That night he went to your room, knocking on the door and entering when he heard your permission. He found you leaning against the headboard reading a book, hair brushed loose around your face, only a nightgown covering your body. He swallowed, already feeling his dirty mind getting the better of him and his body reacting to your presence. But as soon as he looked into your eyes and saw a shadow of fragility and fear in them, it was as if a bucket of cold water fell on him.

Aegon was proud, as all Targaryens were. He had never regretted, much less apologized for his perverted actions before. He didn't even know how to do it. But you, in your cold silence and aloof attitude, were forcing him to do so. He didn't know why, but he needed you to stop hating him, he couldn't take another day of this. Feeling awkward and strangely shy, Aegon approached you on the bed, standing beside you.

"I came to apologize for my actions on our wedding night." The words were hard to say, but necessary. "It's hardly the right way for a husband to treat his wife."

He saw you close the book you were reading and look at him fearfully, though you tried to look confident.

"Did your mother send you here?" Your words went straight to Aegon's dark heart, the painful reminder of the fact that none of his actions were of his own choosing, hurting him as usual, but that really wasn't the case this time. Aegon didn't let anyone know what was going on between the two of you, and from the lack of outside comments he knew you hadn't told anyone either.

"I assure you that I am here because I want to, wife." He said sitting down beside you, your gaze following his every action closely, with obvious discomfort. He needed to sort this out. "I just want you to let me make it right this time. I'm not asking you to forgive me now, I know it might take time to earn your trust." It was very hard to admit that, Aegon wasn't used to stooping like a dog. But his life was hell enough without the weight of guilt on his shoulders. "Just let me try to fix this, wife."

Aegon saw in your face that you were about to deny his request, so he acted. He took the book from your small hands and placed it on the table beside the bed. His mouth glued to yours, firm and hot, he didn't know how to do it any other way, even if he didn't want to scare you. He didn't know how to be kind. He felt you stiffen, not responding to the kiss, which made him cup your face with both hands and lightly bite your lips. You sighed and Aegon took the opportunity to tangle his tongue in your mouth, tasting your taste. You were sweet, that made Aegon grunt and wrap a hand around your neck pulling you closer to him. Aegon never cared about kisses, he didn't need to kiss whores. He rarely experienced a kiss, to be honest. But in that moment, tasting the sweetness of your mouth, feeling your tiny tongue swirl with his, accepting his kiss with a sigh, tiny hands going to his chest for support, yes, in that moment he realized how much he had lost.

His lips trailed wet from your jaw to your neck, where he took a deep breath, feeling the floral scent of the recent shower still on your skin. Aegon found himself biting harder than he should have on your neck, but before he could worry that you'd be startled by it, he heard a low moan leave your lips. That brought a sly smile to his lips. Finally you both were going somewhere. He followed up with open-mouthed kisses on your sensitive, soft skin, his hands going to the straps of your nightgown, pulling them down. You flinched a little instinctively, but you didn't stop him. Aegon lifted his head to look into your eyes.

"I won't hurt you again, I promise." He said it in a serious tone, needing you to believe his words because, fuck, for the first time in his life he felt like he really wanted to take responsibility for something. He wanted to be responsible for you.

He saw you nod your head slightly, and wrapped his hands around your delicate shoulders, pressing down, you understood and laid your body down on the soft bed. His mouth covered yours, slow and hard, sucking on your tongue and sucking on your bottom lip, making you moan. He took advantage of your distraction to step forward, cupping his hands over your soft breasts, squeezing the hot flesh in his palms as he drank your saliva into his mouth. Aegon didn't think he'd ever been this close to anyone, even though he'd had sex so many times in so many different ways he couldn't even remember. But he never did like this.

With some reluctance he released your swollen, pink lips and lowered his head to your breasts, taking a few seconds to enjoy the beauty of your skin glowing in the firelight. With a growl he lowered his mouth to your hard nipple, taking a wet lick before closing his lips around it and sucking. You moaned louder and put your little hands in his white hair, tugging at the strands in the midst of pleasure. Aegon gasped at his saliva-spattered breast, making your skin crawl and you squirm beneath him.

He finished pulling your nightgown from your body as he kissed your belly, moving lower and lower. You tightened your grip on his hair, drawing his attention.

"A-Aegon, what are you doing?" Your voice sounded breathless, your face flushed and eyes wide. So fucking beautiful. Aegon smirked, leaning your legs on his shoulders and licking your thigh without taking his eyes off you. "I'll make you feel good, little bunny." It was the only warning he gave you before he licked your quivering pussy from bottom to top, tasting you on his tongue. Aegon growled in pleasure at the taste of you at the same time you cried out at the feel of his tongue against your most sensitive part.

You were delicious, Aegon realized he would be addicted to the taste of your pussy. He didn't do it much. In fact, he almost never did. Aegon didn't care about the pleasure of others, only his own. But there was something about watching you squirm on the bed, squeezing his hair and pushing his face deeper and deeper into your pussy, the loud, gasping moans you let out, your legs trembling around his head… he felt powerful here. He knew he would do this too often, he needed to see you break like this as many times as possible during the day.

Oh yes, Aegon knew in that moment that this was his preferred way of breaking you. To destroy that perfect girl illusion you were trying to support. He didn't need to hurt you. No, he needed to fuck you the best way he could, in the way that made you so messed up that any pretended part of you would crumble until only the real you was visible. Yes, that's what he would do.

Aegon licked your pussy like it was his last day on earth, sucking as much of your fluids as possible, swirling his tongue around your swollen clit as you grew more and more desperate. Slowly so as not to startle you, he rotated his fingertip at your entrance, letting you feel he was there, and then he sank into your tight channel, never failing to lick your clit. You arched your back and half moaned half screamed, a sound between those two, and then he stuck another finger in. When you relaxed Aegon pulled out and then in, out and in, his tongue not leaving your sensitive mound of nerves for a second .

He felt your stomach tense, your legs tightening around him, your moans turning to just quick gasps amid words he honestly couldn't understand. You were almost there. He splayed a hand on your pelvis, applying pressure as his fingers fucked you faster and his tongue licked up and down your clit and that was it. You opened your mouth on a hoarse groan as he watched your entire body tremble, your pussy choking his fingers as you cum, your eyes closed, your cheeks rosy and your body glowing in the firelight. You were a damn goddess.

When your body slumped limp on the bed again, Aegon removed his mouth from your pussy, crawling up to meet you in the eye, your taste spread across his mouth. Grabbing each of your legs and pulling them up he placed himself between them, you understood and wrapped them around his hips. Aegon's heavy cock slamming into your belly leaving a wet trail of arousal in its wake. He cupped the back of your neck with one hand and pulled you into a kiss, with the other he guided his cock to your saliva-soaked entrance and your own orgasm. As he let you taste yourself on his tongue, Aegon thrust his hips forward, the fat head of his cock entering you with some difficulty, but the lubrication was no doubt helping. Inch by inch he invaded your body, both of them gasping at the tight stretch. It felt like an eternity had passed, when in reality it was just a few moments, but he was inside you to the hilt. Your walls shaking and squeezing his cock in such a way that he felt like he could cum right there and now if he didn't concentrate.

Aegon looked at you trying to distract himself.

Your eyes were slitted, your mouth parted as you breathed in fast, your skin had a slight sheen of sweat and your cheeks were red. This was not the same expression you wore on your first night together, and Aegon felt absolute pleasure coursing through his body at that conclusion. You were horny. Because of him.

With that in mind Aegon kissed the tip of your nose fondly as he allowed himself to move his hips against yours. He held your hands above your head, moving in and out of you slowly, violet eyes scanning yours for any different reactions as he tried to find a rhythm that suited you best. It was all about you. Aegon's own need taking a back seat now.

Aegon could feel the white strands of his hair sticking to his face as a fine layer of sweat formed, his balls tightening and pulling with the urge to cum inside that tight pussy, but he wouldn't until he was sure he took you with him . And when he finally hit a spot inside you that made you throw your head back, your eyes roll, and your little hands clasp his on the pillow above your head, he knew he'd found what he was looking for. Aegon focused all his effort on that spot, his cock thudding faster and harder, always in the same place, keeping you in that spiral of rising pleasure.

"Fuck, love, so beautiful." He whispered in your ear, feeling her walls start to contract. "Scream my name when you cum, little bunny. Let me know I've done something right for once in my life. Let the whole fucking Red Keep know." He was losing pace, the constant pressure of your pussy on his cock causing him to stutter in his movements, his balls aching from being so tight. But his words had an effect on you and he saw it, your pupils dilating at the sound of his voice and your legs so tight around him it was getting hard to move, but he kept going anyway, slapping your pussy and rubbing his pelvis rhythmically on your clit with the movement. And then you cum. Screaming his name as he'd asked, so loud he really thought everyone in the Red Keep could hear. It only served to burst the fragile self-control he held over his own desire and he found himself cuming along with you, so hard and intense it was almost too much, it was painful in a glorious way. Aegon didn't feel the need to have children anytime soon if it wasn't for his duty. But spurting thick strings of cum inside you he couldn't help but imagine your belly growing with his baby inside. Damn, what a magnificent sight.

Gasping and shivering, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, feeling you breathe fast too, your chest rising and falling quickly. When he finally freed your hands from above your head, you soon wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a hug. A hug he returned after rolling to your side and pulling you on top of him. Your smaller body was lying on top of his, the two of you hugging each other as you tried to get back to normal. Aegon running his fingers down your back, silently wanting to freeze that rare, beautiful and precious moment of peace in his life.

He didn't know how much time had passed, feeling light for the first time in a long time, but he came back to reality when he felt you relax your body more on top of him. And that's when he realized you had slept. Then Aegon allowed himself to smile, a smile he didn't even remember he could still offer, and left a chaste kiss on your forehead. He knew he still had a lot to sort out, far more than he could bear alone, but maybe with you by his side as his wife and Queen, he still had salvation.

Damn, Aegon wanted so badly to still have salvation.

"For you, little bunny."

#i don't like this bastard much but holy damn

[ecstaticactus]

— I miss you (traitor)

Aemond x Niece!Reader

A perspective on the iconic dinner table scene in episode eight.

Word count: 11k

Dividers: @cafekitsune @saradika

Rating: Explicit +18 (friendship, angst, heartbreak, fingering, dry humping, grinding)

Proceed with caution.

English is not my first language.

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"Zaldrīzis buzdari iksos daor." You try one more time.

"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor." Aemond corrects you gently, in perfectly correct dialect.

You huff, a pout forming on your lips as you cross your arms over your chest. "It's unfair how good you are at this. We have the same instructor, I don't understand." Your childish voice sounds sullen.

Aemond smiles and shakes his head at your little tantrum, flipping through the Valyrian dictionary to the next page. "I'm older than you, Y/n. It's only natural that I have an easier time with this." He tries to spare your feelings.

"You're only two years older, don't be so arrogant." You complain with flushed cheeks, feeling even more humiliated than before. It's true that you're only seven years old, but your Valyrian isn't progressing as well as Aemond's was a few years ago at the same age as you. "I just wish I was as good as you."

He brings a hand to your head, where he shakes the strands of your hair in a familiar gesture of affection. "Well, I need to get some advantage, don't you think? After all, you have a dragon and I don't."

You know it's supposed to be a funny comment, something to continue the subtle teasing of your conversation. But as he looks at you, even in the precarious lighting of the single candlestick the two of you brought into the library, you can notice how a shadow of pain shines in his lavender eyes - something he quickly covers up with a subtle shake of his head, returning the previous kind expression for you.

"You can't win every time, bug. Don't be greedy." He ends with a shrug and a mischievous look, the annoying nickname hanging in the air like bait on a hook, just waiting to catch the fish.

"Huh?! Aem! I already told you to stop calling me that, it's annoying and I'm definitely not a bug." You allow yourself to be hooked, your pout increasing drastically, which only serves to get a few laughs from the boy sitting in front of you in the dark corridor of the Red Keep's huge library.

When you huff loudly and roll your eyes, bracing your hands on the floor to stand, Aemond grabs you and knocks you down; pale fingers circling your belly in a tickling attack. You scream in shock and try to grab his wrists, but he is bigger and faster, preventing your movements as he continues his torture.

"Aemond, stop it now! I already told you I don't like it when-" you cut yourself off as an almost hysterical laugh bubbles up uncontrollably from your throat, your small body shaking and writhing on the floor as you try to escape his cruel fingers. You laugh and cover your lips with your hands so that the two of you won't be discovered, but Aemond laughs even harder at this, hitting the same sensitive spot on your stomach several times until you're literally crying with laughter.

"Please, please Aem, I can't breathe!" You try to control your voice. It's late at night and the Keep is silent. Any noise could alert someone and there was no way your mothers could find out about you and Aemond's nighttime escapades.

Aemond notices you breathing heavily, tears streaming down your chubby, rosy cheeks. With a softer smile he loosens the grip he had on you, holding your hands as he helps you sit up. You both fall silent, only the sound of your rapid breathing is heard.

He takes one last look at you to make sure you're okay, then grabs the dictionary, ready to pick up where they left off.

"Aem..." You call him, softly.

He looks up from the book.

"You will claim a dragon soon. It will be a large and terrifying dragon, everyone will be afraid of you two, just as they feared Aegon the Conqueror and Balerion. I know it." You feel your cheeks getting warmer, your little fingers nervously twisting the hem of your cloak. Aemond just looks at you, lips parted and lilac eyes surprised. "But –, well, until that happens, you can always stay with me and Rhaegon. I don't mind. We love having you around."

Aemond blinks slowly at you, eyes wide. You start to get nervous. Did you say something wrong? You both had always been very close, you didn't think something like that could offend him. But Aemond is actually very sensitive when it comes to this, so maybe you crossed a line.

"I-I know it's not the same. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you offended or upset-" your little hands are flapping in the air as you try to adjust what you said.

"Hey, hey..." He cuts you off, holding your nervous hands in his with a comforting grip. He breathes slowly, a small grateful smile on his lips. "Thank you, little bug." You let your shoulders relax dramatically, a loud, relieved exhale leaving your mouth, almost making you sink to the floor.

He gives your forehead a gentle flick.

"Now, enough talking. Where do we stop?"

He picks up the dictionary again, ignoring the starry, dreamy look you give him.

At that time you couldn't notice how he sits a little closer to you after that.

You are nine years old when Aemond finds you crying.

Huddled against a darker corner of the hallway, hugging your knees to your chest. Your once immaculately embroidered dress is now smeared with mud, your hair is falling in disheveled curls around your flushed, tear-stained face. You're trying to hold back the sobs, but your small body shakes with each ragged breath.

Aemond doesn't like the sight at all.

"Y/n?" He asks softly, moving closer to you until he's crouched beside you, one hand gently smoothing your back - as if you were a delicate piece from some beautiful collection; a precious but fragile reliquary that could crack at any moment under his touch. "What happened?"

You lift your head to look into his eyes, cheek muddy and small lips quivering as you try to calm down.

"T-they were cruel to me, again."

Aemond furrows his eyebrows.

"Aegon and your brothers?" He asks, a dark tone already taking over his youthful voice. He wouldn't be surprised if the answer was yes. The boys didn't just like to humiliate and have fun at Aemond's own expense, but at your expense as well. The provocations were constant; from how fragile and whiny you were, to how you would never be a true dragon rider - even that you, in fact, have one.

You don't have many friends.

But neither did Aemond.

"N-no, it wasn't them this time. It was some kids who were near the training yard." Aemond blinks in confusion, waiting for you to continue. His fingers try to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks, even though more are leaking from your eyes. “They pushed me into the mud puddle...” you sniffle, trying to rub away the dirt stain that is embedded all along the length of your dress sleeve. "And then they stood there while I tried to get up, laughing and pointing at me, saying that the mud was where I belong since I'm a...they said I was nothing but a...a..."

Aemond feels like he knows where this is going, but he wants to hear it anyway.

"What?"

If possible, your cheeks seem to blush even more.

"A dirty little bastard."

You sob and hide your face in your arms, pulling your legs closer to your body.

He takes a deep breath, knowing he was on shaky ground now.

The rumor is not new. Aemond knows this. And the undeniable physical evidence points to confirming the suspicion of a large part of the population of Kings Landing.

He may be young, but he is no fool. He himself has his thoughts (his certainties) about this. He knows you are not the daughter of Laenor Velaryon.

But while he goes to great lengths to internally resent his nephews about it, he's never held it against you.

It felt wrong.

And it seems even more wrong that others are using it to humiliate you.

"I don't understand, Aemond...why are people so mean?" He can barely hear your question with the choked way your voice sounds.

Aemond definitely doesn't like this.

“They-,” he starts, using two fingers to cup your chin and gently lift your head. "Look, they just want to destabilize you. They want to wipe the smile off your face. I just, I should- you know what? I will resolve this."

He says after a huff, already standing up. He cannot allow something like this to happen, he cannot allow boys with no name or relevance, probably sons of the kennel master or some other function as simple as that, to insult and attack the Princess and still dare to get away with it.

You shake your head, eyes bright and wide, your hand closing around his wrist as you stop him from leaving.

“N-no! It's okay...I'm okay now, please. Don't go. Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Aemond twists his lips thoughtfully. But you bat your long, dewy eyelashes at him and he sighs, returning to crouch beside you. He is weak; he knows. Unable to deny anything when you look at him like that.

The boys' punishment would come later.

You're still crying, but your lips stretch into a wide, trembling smile and you look at him like he's your knight in shining armor and Aemond thinks your presence is like the sun itself, burning his skin with heat as you jump and hugs him abruptly. He rolls his eyes at your exaggerated attitude, but wraps his own arms around you, unfazed by the mud that is now staining his clothes.

"You're the person I trust most in my life, Aemond. You know that, right?" You whisper close to his ear.

And as you hold him tightly, as if you would fall apart without his arms keeping you close, Aemond thinks about the depth of your statement and can feel his own cheeks heat up and his heart speed up in response.

"I know that, little bug."

With every fiber of your being.

You trust Aemond.

You are ten years old when you discover that your words have come true and Aemond is in the heavens, riding none other than the largest dragon in the world.

He's magnificent.

He's really like Aegon the Conqueror.

It's like witnessing a miracle and you want nothing more than to reach Rhaegon and dance in the skies with Aemond.

But it's also all a disaster.

It all happens too fast. Too fast for you to have any real chance of understanding in clear detail what is happening.

You remember leaning on the balcony of your designated chamber for the time you've been in Driftmark, still sad from the day's events. Sad for your cousins, who just buried their own mother. Saddened by the death of Harwin Strong, a tragic event that no one seems to give due importance to. A good, kind man who you had had a deep bond with since you were a baby - bond far more meaningful than the one you had with your 'real father'.

You are not so innocent anymore. No matter how much Jace says otherwise, the truth has been hanging over your head like a physical weight for some time now, just waiting for your confession. Which only makes dealing with the man's death more difficult.

It's all a lot to handle.

You had gone out to your private balcony in search of some relief from the unexpected suffocation in your chest, but the high-pitched choke that leaves your throat only makes everything worse. Because, there in the skies, there is Aemond - majestic and indomitable, unquestionably claiming Vhagar for himself in plain sight, the dragon your cousin would claim for her after recovering from her mother's funeral.

After that, there was only chaos.

You almost fall down the stairs in your rush to get to him before your brothers and cousins. And still, you arrive too late.

Before you even see them, you hear Aemond teasing Rhaena that Jace and Luke should get her a pig to ride, and she shoves him violently at the same time as you finally catch up to them. Aemond recovers quickly and pushes her back to the ground.

Baela roars when she sees her sister being hit and punches Aemond. He hits her in response with enough force to knock her to the ground. You scream and try to push him away - not to hurt him, just to keep him away. But it's as if he were another person, ignoring your presence as if you weren't even there. He screams and says that if Baela comes to him again, he will give her as meal to Vhagar.

Jace, angry that Baela was hurt and threatened, pulls you hard by the shoulder and you bang your head against the wall from the intensity of his action, your eyes closing in pain, which finally seems to draw Aemond's attention to you. He blinks and tries to go towards you, but Jace gets to him before, knocking him down and hitting him with several punches.

"STOP IT! JACE, ENOUGH! YOU ALL NEED TO STOP NOW!" You scream and try to pull Jace away, but Luke grabs you around the waist and pulls you back. You scratch his hands, hearing him scold you for defending Aemond.

But Aemond manages to kick Jace at some point and Luke finally lets go of you, heading towards him, his chubby-cheeked face turning red with blood as Aemond hits him with a punch.

Jace gets up and pushes Aemond to the ground and then the four of them gang up on Aemond while he's still on the ground. You run and try to pull the first person you see in front of you, but Baela (lost in her anger) hits your nose with her elbow and you scream, feeling the blood run like a river through your lips.

You can barely see as Aemond stands up and takes down Rhaena, Baela, and Jace, grabbing Luke by the throat and picking up a rock from the ground.

"YOU WILL DIE SCREAMING IN FLAMES, JUST AS YOUR FATHER DID. BASTARDS!" Aemond almost growls, his face bloody and his eyes fierce.

“A-Aemond…” You whisper, horrified. Your heart goes cold, the pain in your nose is forgotten. Because he wouldn't...he wouldn't -

He could never...

But Aemond doesn't stop. Even when Luke counters that his father is alive, he only mocks his innocence, calling Jace 'Lord Strong'.

"Aemond, that's enough!" You're almost crying, your eyes burning. But you tirelessly repeats to yourself that Aemond is out of control, everything is happening very violently and he doesn't really mean it. It's just the heat of the moment.

But, as impossible as it may seem, everything gets worse.

Jace pulls out a dagger, offended by Aemond's words. Without backing down, Aemond pushes Luke away and Jace attacks him with the dagger. Aemond dodges and hits Jace in the head with the rock he had in his hands, knocking him to the ground. Even while Jace is on the ground, Aemond walks up to him with the stone - a grim expression on his face, indicating his cruel intent.

"AEMOND PLEASE NO!!" You try once again to get closer, but you are too far away to be able to act in time.

Jace, fallen and anticipating the worst from Aemond, grabs a quantity of sand between his fingers and throws it in his face and Luke screams as he slides the dagger blade across his face.

And that's it.

Fast and tragic.

A single blow and Aemond is lying on the ground, screaming in pain.

You would never be able to forget that scream.

You try to hold his shoulder and see what had happened, but you are pulled away by the commander of the King's Guard, who arrives at that exact moment.

When he pulls Aemond's face you cover your lips with your hands shaking to avoid screaming, tears finally running freely down your cheeks.

Everything is a blur to you after that. But the gravity of the situation does not go unnoticed, even in your limited and childish understanding.

There is a violent argument between the adults, accusations made and threats shouted.

You don't care about that, though. You only care about Aemond, who is bleeding and writhing in pain as the Maester stitches up his wound. You cry when the old man informs, in an apogeic and wise voice, that Aemond's eye had been lost forever.

Maybe it's the knowledge that he was physically harmed in an irreparable way that makes you step up and defend him in front of everyone, even though you know that he was just as much the cause and culprit of the feud as the others involved. You don't know if you believe yourself as you speak words of absolution for him and all the adults to hear. But you can't abandon him. Especially not when he needs you so much. It wouldn't be fair after all the times he came to your rescue, after all the times he was your helper and protector. You owe it to him.

In the end, however, your words on his behalf don't result in much — except sharp, hurt looks from your brothers and cousins.

The words of a ten-year-old girl make no difference between the loud voices of adults who are committed to hating each other.

You are not allowed to see Aemond that night, a guard is posted at your door to make sure that doesn't happen. And when morning comes, you and your family leave for Dragonstone, without being allowed a chance to say goodbye. You cry all the way home, the only witness to your pain is your dragon who emits sympathetic coos every now and then.

You don't know when you will see Aemond again, but you can only hope and pray that when it happens, he has recovered from the traumas of that night.

You are no longer a child when you see him again.

And much less him.

His hair is longer, more neat and perfectly aligned, falling like a silver waterfall down his back. His facial features have lost any and all boyish fat they once had; now defined and pointed lines mark the design of his face. A long, imposing nose, thicker eyebrows and heavy eyelashes, a sharp jaw and beautiful lips that seem permanently fixed in the same indifferent expression all the time. He's taller too. Much taller, you notice. Lean, defined muscles easily filling out his dark clothes.

And he's wearing an eye patch.

You know that your own figure has changed greatly since you last saw each other. A true lady worthy of your status. At the height of your beauty and grace. Your physical attributes are as praised by people as your intelligence and education.

You are a young woman now.

He doesn't look at you, though. Which is a such disappointment for you.

It's been years since the two of you have seen each other and the longing in your chest is painful, but he doesn't look at you.

He doesn't look at you when you're in the Great Hall, deciding on Lucerys's title as Lord of the Tides. Even if you send him discreet, insecure glances from under your eyelashes every now and then, he's still looking straight ahead. Except, of course, when Lord Vaemond offends your mother by calling her a whore and (in a sadly unoriginal way, as if you've never heard that before) he accuses you and your brothers of being bastards. You think it might have been the only time he actually looked at you - quick and fleeting; a glimpse of curiosity that, as sudden as it appeared, disappeared.

Of course, what happens to Lord Vaemond after that makes you momentarily forget about Aemond's lack of attention. His blood running down the center of the throne room, so abundant that you have to lift the hem of your dress and take a few steps back to avoid getting dirty with it.

But despite how wrong and sick the notion is in your own mind, you can't feel any mercy. Quite the opposite. It's disturbingly satisfying to see that, for the first time in your years, someone has been punished after saying those words to you.

Even so, you twitch your lips and widen your eyes in a fake grimace of surprise. You're still a Princess and you're still a lady, and real ladies aren't pleased to see faces being cut in half.

That wasn't the highlight of the day, surprisingly.

Dinner would be.

Your brothers were overjoyed (it didn't even look like Lord Vaemond had been ripped in half that very day - you shared their selective forgetfulness). But their true joy came from the beautiful ladies at their side. The joy of a long-awaited and desired commitment that was finally being fulfilled.

Unlike you...

You are sure that, never in the history of humanity, have two people sitting next to each other seemed as far apart as you and Aemond at this moment.

It is poetically tragic.

He's there, less than an arm's length away from you. And yet, it's as if the two of you aren't even on the same territory, as if the years have separated you to such an extent that he doesn't even know how to recognize you anymore.

You wanted to start a talk. You've craved this every second since you arrived at the Red Keep, to be precise. But every time you worked up the courage to look up from your glass of wine, he was looking elsewhere - at Luke, at Jace, at literally anyone at the table; except you - expression sharp and serious in a way that sent shivers down your spine, posture straight and tense like a stretched bow about to release the arrow, exuding some kind of dangerous confidence that he definitely didn't have before.

He didn't look like the Aemond you knew. And every time you parted your lips to say something to him, you realized you didn't know what to say to this new Aemond. You didn't feel like you could say anything, actually. Where he was once an inviting warmth and your true safe haven to vent about anything, now it's as if the icy walls around him repress you and keep you at bay.

You don't think it could get any worse.

But guess what? You were wrong.

The crystal of the glass is barely resting on your lower lip when you see a servant enter with yet another tray. A roast pig resting at the base of it.

You’re almost afraid to look at Aemond. You're almost afraid to look at Luke. Instead, you finish pushing the crimson liquid into your lips, swallowing with some difficulty. From the corner of your eye you see the silent interaction between Aemond and Luke, your breathing already coming more quickly in a kind of bad intuition, and when you hear a sudden punch on the table it is impossible to control the small startled jump of your own body.

"Final tribute."

The glass is still close to your lips when Aemond raises his in a toast and you, in a delusional and foolishly hopeful moment that this could be anything other than a complete disaster, decide to keep your glass raised as he speaks.

"The health of my nephews and my niece." You lift your head when you hear his voice and feel the pulse of the sudden movement deep in your skull. He was finally talking to you - well, not to you. About you. It's already something. "Jace. Luke. Joffrey...Y/n." Your stupid, foolish heart quickens in response to your name falling from his lips and you dare to feel something almost forbidden in the tragic painting that is your life.

Hope.

"Each of them handsome, wise..." He pauses, meaningful and deep enough to make everyone at the table straighten their posture in anticipation. Even though nothing in his tone indicates truly vile intentions, you suddenly feel like you can't breathe anymore - because you know, you know. You know exactly what's coming next. Your hand, suddenly trembling, lowers the wine glass to the table with painful slowness, the real meaning of the situation falling on your shoulders and pulling you down like the turbulent waves of the sea. Your eyes start to water, because the feeling in your chest isn't good at all. This can't be good.

He looks at you, and you know he sees the barely contained tears in your gaze, the unspoken plea of desperation on your lips, the shadow of hurt and vulnerability taking over your features. You know he sees, because his single lavender eye glows subtly in the candlelight and his own confident expression falters for a few seconds into something softer. Long enough for you to see little fragmented pieces of the boy you used to know.

It's enough to rekindle a flame (albeit tiny) of faith in your chest.

Of course he wouldn't do that. You were being foolish to assume that Aemond would purposely do something like that to you, knowing how much it would hurt you.

He wouldn't...

"Strong." He pronounces your sentence of pain, looking away from you and closing his expression like a well-fortified siege.

Something slippery and terrible suddenly grabs your heart, and it beats faster. More painful. You swallow the prickly ball down your throat, but you vaguely registers in your mind that you're honestly surprised you hadn't seen this coming from the start. Once the shock of it all wears off, you'll probably realize that this day, this exact moment in your life, was always inevitable.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these four strong siblings.” He emphasizes when he finishes the toast, as if he hadn't already made his insinuation clear beforehand.

You can't take your eyes off your glass of wine placed on the table, you can't spy on other people's reactions. You simply can't deal with anyone else's feelings right now but your own. Dread fully sets in now, your gut twisting around the arteries that supply blood to your heart, a sharp pain in your nose and eyes.

You didn't expect that.

You definitely didn't expect that from him.

Small attacks of panic course through your veins; you want to get up and run out the front door, bend over and rest your palms on your thighs and learn to breathe again.

You can't believe this is happening.

The word itself and its real meaning is not what terrifies you. You've heard it enough times to learn not to let it get the best of you. It's sad, but it's the kind of thing you've learned to ignore after many years of pain.

That's not what hurts you.

It's the fact that it came from him.

Aemond, probably more than anyone at this table, knows how much you suffered in your childhood because of jokes like that; because of spiteful whispers about bastardy and illegitimacy, about cruel shoving and taunts from children - and even from adults; about disdainful treatment and sick looks. He comforted you countless times after words and actions like these hurt and humiliated you. You opened your heart to him about every vulnerable and weak spot it touched inside you.

And yet he used it against you.

You suppress your panic, swallowing once again and closing your eyes, curling your fingers into tight fists as you try to breathe slowly to calm yourself.

In your mind it seems like a long time has passed, but you know it all happened in the space of seconds.

The table is still dead silent after his words, everyone having their own internal reaction to what was said. But you don't wait, you can't take it anymore. With a loud, annoying scrape of wood on the floor, you push your chair back and stand up, making everyone at the table look at you. Including Aemond, who is still standing in the same position. You hold back the tears as best you can as you lift your head in the most nonchalant expression you can muster at the moment.

"Excuse me, please, I'm not feeling well."

Although respect required, you don't wait for anyone's response before leaving, hurried steps taking you towards some place you don't know where it is - you just know you want to be as far away from there as possible.

You pass guards on their watch, ignoring the curious looks they give you as they see your flushed, tear-stained face and the strands of your hair starting to get out of line with the way you're basically running through the halls.

It's hard to breathe like this. Your heart refuses to slow down, galloping wildly in your ribs.

It's your fault, after all. All those years of longing for the reencounter, believing in the ridiculous notion that nothing had changed, that the two of you could just pick up where you left off - as if the years apart had never existed.

Everything had changed, and even though sometimes it was hard to face reality, you still hated how you couldn't realize it before.

Suddenly a hand closes over his lips and muffles your frightened scream, at the same time that two guards appear at the beginning of the hallway. You're pulled back until your back hits the wall, a tall body covering yours as the hand remains over your mouth.

The lighting from the torches is soft in this part of the castle and it takes you a few seconds to identify Aemond in front of you, his body intimately pressing yours against the cold wall, making you sigh and widen your eyes at his boldness. You almost scream again, your fingers going to his wrist to release the grip on your mouth. But he puts his index finger to his lips, indicating that you should be silent.

You squint your eyes, even more irritated. But you know he's right, the guards walk calmly down the hallway, talking about things you don't care to understand - but any sound you make and they would find you. And by the gods, you didn't want to be found in this position with Aemond.

When he notices that you've relaxed under his touch, Aemond slides his hand from your mouth, but he doesn't make any move to put some distance between your bodies, and as much as you're angry and deeply hurt, it's impossible to stop your cheeks from burning with the disturbing proximity. You turn your head to the side, unable to look at him any longer, but his breath fanning the strands of hair near your ear doesn't help your embarrassment.

You already knew the sound of Aemond's heartbeat. You became familiar with his breathing pattern, with the way his heart beat faster as the two of you shared hugs in the past. You, fleetingly and unintentionally, have already known Aemond's scent; his skin tone in the dim light of the library, the glow of his lavender gaze over the embers of the flames.

But you had never been pressed against Aemond like this, the rise and fall of his breath penetrating your own body through your clothes. Until now, you had never been fully immersed in his scent, feeling his white hair gently brushing your face, his breath fanning your face.

You had never been so close to him in a context that wasn't purely meant for childlike comfort and friendliness.

With the sound of your hearts beating so loudly as the guards' footsteps get closer, you're almost certain that the two will be found. Both are motionless, squeezed into this wall, with only a pillar to keep you out of sight and Aemond's dark clothes to disguise you in the shadows. And you want to hate him, gods you really do, but the heat of his body so close to yours is making your eyes water once again and your hands sweat.

You look at each other in silence as the men continue walking down the hallway. There's an almost menacing glow in his lilac gaze, but there's also a burning heat that makes the fire glow in your stomach, makes your breath hitch and your skin tingle as you let the hurt and longing take over your body.

This needs to end.

You wait long enough to be sure the guards have turned the corner of the long hallway, and not a second too long.

Your hands push his chest hard, making him take a few steps back.

“Y/n. I-"

“Why did you follow me, Aemond? To make another joke at my expense? Please don't bother. Have a good night." You almost growl as you turn towards the hallway, although you're keeping your tone low. You hear a low tired huff leave his lips before he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards a door further away.

"What? What's your problem? Let me go!" You wriggle your hand, trying to escape his grip, but he keeps firm pressure on your skin.

Aemond pushes you into the small reading room and you feel your throat tighten as he turns to lock the door. The click of the bolt sliding into place lingers in the room as he slowly turns to face you.

The two of you maintain eye contact for what seems like an eternity as the moonlight streams in through the window. How could you not have spoken or seen each other all these years? You can't even remember what it's like to not be in the presence of the Dragon Prince; even though now the power he exudes both seduces and terrifies you.

“I hope you're not trying to find a way to apologize. Because I won’t forgive you,” you manage to say hastily, preparing to keep all walls up against this man.

"I know." He says, as calm and serious as before. "I betrayed your trust. I would not deserve your forgiveness even if you freely gave it to me."

You click your tongue and look away, subtly looking up in an attempt to control the renewed urge to cry.

“So what are you doing here? Why did you have to follow me and bring me here?" You ask after a few seconds of silence, as you gesture to the surrounding room; almost empty of furniture except for the bookshelf and a comfortable armchair near a study table, an unlit fireplace on the far wall. Your hair falling over your shoulder as you turn to look around.

"Would you believe me if I said it's because you look even more beautiful like this, in the moonlight and because I want you away from everyone else, just for myself?" he speaks slowly, as if he isn't stabbing a sharp dagger through your chest with every word.

Or will you be the one running towards the blade of his dagger? You're not sure anymore.

"Y-you can't just get back into my good graces with any charm, Aemond —" You retort, with red cheeks and even more teary eyes. The gallop of your heart makes it difficult to remain still under that penetrating violet gaze. It's not like talking to a boy anymore, like you remember it being. Aemond is a man now. His gaze caresses your body once; settling on your face with a disturbing intensity. He can probably hear your furious, traitorous heartbeat as clearly as he can see your rapid breathing. "Let me go. I really don't want to talk to you right now." You ask softly as a tear runs down your cheek.

"I can't do it." Is all he says, stepping to the side as you step forward, blocking your exit.

"Why?" More tears followed the first and you were transported back to the dinner table. "Why? If it was so easy for you to say things that would hurt me, why can't you just leave me alone now?"

“Because it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy to say that about you. I let myself get carried away by…” He doesn’t continue with the reasoning, but some of his calm and collected appearance is cracking before your eyes. “Y/n, I’m selfish. I've always been. I can't lose you, not again. Not ever again."

You laugh, dry and dull, painful.

"You have luck." There is barely a hint of passion or distorted feeling in your words. Just the oppressive air of disappointment. "You have luck that I'm looking at you right now. That I can look at you. You insult me and then say you can't let me go? I can't believe you, Aemond."

Aemond's breathing is hoarse as he exhales.

"I didn't...I should never have said that. Not about you. Never about you. Your look at me across the table - I can't stop thinking about it. I hate that I hurt you like that."

A breath catches in your chest.

He curls his hands into tight fists at his sides, but says nothing more. Through his own tears, he is a little confused around the edges. His words hit you straight in the heart, but you dare not hope. Not with the way everything went so wrong between the two of you.

"You hurt me, Aemond. I never thought you, of all people, would do that to me. I-I stood by you all those years. I stood up for you that night. I turned my back on my own brothers to be by your side and you hurt me like that. What were you thinking?" You sniffle, wiping the tears from your left cheek with your fingertips. Aemond takes a deep breath, reaching for you, but you flinch away from his touch with a hurt look. He swallows hard.

"I wasn't." He follows your delicate movements with his gaze as you try to clean your face. "I wasn't thinking."

You let out a tired sigh and wrap your arms around yourself looking at your feet, the exhaustion of the day combined with the emotional turmoil of the reunion with Aemond and the conversation between the two of you is completely draining you. "What do you want from me, Aemond?"

He approaches slowly, sliding his fingertips under your chin - tentatively, just probing if you'd allow contact this time, and when he notices you don't push him away, he gives you a gentle push up. He waits patiently until you give in to the pressure of his fingers and meet his one eye.

"I won't apologize for what I said to your brothers. I don't regret it. The only thing I regret is getting you directly involved and hurting you feelings during it." You snort at the ambiguity of his words and try to force your face away from his hold, but he grabs your jaw and keeps you still, looking at him. "Let me show you how sorry I am for hurting you. That's all I want."

You grab his wrist and part your lips, ready to push him away - physically and verbally. But Aemond snuggles suddenly closer to you to press his nose into your neck and inhale deeply. The words die in your throat and you shudder with a surprised gasp, gripping your fingers tighter around his wrist, arching your back like a cat as his other hand slowly travels up your waist, rubbing small circles over your dress before his lips leave a chaste kiss on the curve of your tear-damp cheek. “Y/n,” he whispers.

He repeats as his nose traces the roundness of your cheek, the curve of your neck, his breath fanning into your ear. The presence of him as a whole smelling of leather and smoke, plus something blissfully familiar like fresh mint leaves, wrapping around your senses like a comfortable blanket on a cold day. He continues chanting your name as his lips find the pulse in your neck, while his slightly sharp canines scrape your skin like the soft kiss of the morning breeze. He doesn't stop as his hand slides down your waist, fingers molding the curve of your hips, digging into your soft flesh; he keeps repeating your name over and over as he perfectly molds his tall body against yours.

This is so intimate. Intimate like you've never been with anyone. You freeze. Aemond lifts his head to look at you, still holding you by your waist and chin.

"Please?" he asks softly.

You drop your back against the wall as everything you've been holding onto for years seems to wash away like a wave hitting the shore. The longing. Misplaced anger. The desire to be close. Love. It's the first time you allow yourself to fully understand the depth of your new feelings for him and how desperately you've missed him since he left.

This shouldn't be happening. It's not something you've planned or considered. For years you waited for this moment, you waited to reconnect with him. You never thought the bond between you two would be anything more than that.

But here, now...

Is right. That's where you should be. It's scary how well you fit into the new reality.

You can only nod, the words having left your body. You feel like sugar, heated slowly in a pan until it melts and darkens, then stirred and turned into melted caramel. Aemond holds your tear-stained face, bringing his mouth to the outer corner of your eye.

"Yes?" You feel his lips brush against your damp lashes as he asks.

“Y-yes,” you respond in a low voice and dry throat. Aemond leaves a delicate kiss there and moves to the space above your eyebrows.

"So, will you let me make it up to you?" his lips slide across your forehead and his nose nuzzles your hair.

“Yeah,” you sniffle as he leaves another kiss.

You close your eyes and hum softly when his lips touch the bridge of your nose, then your eyelid. Then the other eyelid. Your lips are slightly parted as his leave a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. He slowly leans over you until your foreheads touch, making you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut.

"I'm going to kiss you now." He sounds a little out of breath when he whispers this.

“Please, Aemond,” you beg, not knowing how much you want this until this very moment, hands clenching into his leather shirt.

His thumb frees your lower lip and his fingers slowly slide along the contour of your ear until they tangle in the strands of hair at the back of your neck. And then his mouth is on yours.

Gods. His lips are soft, like the fluffy pillows on your bed. It's the last coherent thought you have as Aemond presses his wet mouth against yours again and again in a gentle, experimental rhythm that quickly becomes more determined, more urgent as you kiss him back. He makes short, delicious grunts that shoot like flares of fire to your core, a constant buzz of excitement being the only sound in your melting brain as you grip his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His fingers delve into your hair, caressing your scalp and pushing your head back to deepen the kiss. You gasp and Aemond takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth. You moan shamefully and lewdly, tasting the clean, fresh taste of his saliva as he slides his tongue along yours before sucking on your bottom lip in slow tugs.

“Ah- Aem”, you moan the childhood nickname between rapid breaths, without even thinking straight, but the muffled and wild sound he releases in your swollen lips proves how much he likes it, pushing you harder against the wall as he plunders your mouth with his tongue again, drinking from you with the reverence of a starving man who has found his oasis. You're floating and somehow sinking, breathing deeply through your nose, completely enveloped by the heat of Aemond's mouth.

In a figurative sense — you're flooded with the feeling of wanting this to happen all the time from now on — you could really get used to having Aemond's warm lips sliding over yours and his hand gripping your waist like this.

In the literal sense, however, you don't think that you'll ever be able to get used to this feeling.

How could you, when his mouth is so precise and so dominant on yours, exerting the most delicious pressure on your lower lip? When it feels like his warm palm is a magnet that finds streams of fire deep within you and draws them to the surface of your skin? When the way he drives you into his body feels nothing short of proprietary, but in an incredibly hot way – a way that, instead of raising your pride for independence, neutralizes all your qualms and just excites you?

Because, damn, you really are excited now – a fact you can feel between your legs with every passing second.

I want him, I want him, I want him, you think in a rhythm that matches the beat of your heart.

With one last wet touch to your lips, Aemond breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. The sudden absence draws from you an involuntary sigh and then an irrational wave of disappointment and anger. You're mad at him for stopping kissing you, and you're mad at yourself for wanting his touch so much to react this way.

Your cheeks are burning. You feel like a mess of frustrated desires, right there in that abandoned reading room. Yet Aemond appears as calm, cool, and collected as you've ever seen him. Except for the slightly altered breathing.

Damn him.

"Is – is that all?" You stutter, out of breath and with a cute frown, “if that’s how you intended to show you’re sorry, you didn’t convince me.” The dismissive tone completely missed the mark as your voice came out choppy and fragile, but Aemond smiled anyway, a versatile smile that started out being adorable, then hopeful, and then so wicked that you think your heart (and, hmm, other parts of you ) may explode.

"You're absolutely right. Besides, you've been such a good girl. You deserve a little gift, right?"

Despite your false bravado, you didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded once, your chest warming at the praise. He gave your waist a tight grip and you bit your lip, feeling the heat from your face travel down to your neck as well. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly walks away and sits down in the comfortable armchair near the study table, a large hand patting his own thigh as he smiles softly.

“Come here, little bug,” he purrs your childhood nickname in that tone that’s still unfamiliar but decidedly masculine, and you almost faint. You always hated that nickname. But gods, hearing that again in his warm, husky voice makes something unholy course through your veins and your legs start to shake for a completely different reason than the anger from earlier in the night.

Is this some kind of dream? This really couldn't be happening, right? This behavior is far from what is appropriate or acceptable, but how could you resist? He's elegant, charming, powerful, intelligent - and on top of all that, he's drop-dead gorgeous.

How in the name of the gods could you resist?

You freeze for just a few seconds, unable to move in front of him. But after a moment, your legs begin to move on their own, pulling you closer and closer to Aemond's personal space. When you're within his reach, he gently grabs you by the waist and pulls you down until you're fully straddling him.

“A-Aemond,” you try, your body shaking with anxiety and sudden excitement. Everything is happening so quickly and your mind is struggling to keep up - even though your body is basically begging for more.

Your lips opens and you dare to meet his gaze once again. That eye patch. You're sure that the recently reestablished relationship between the two of you is still too fragile for you to ask him to take it off - even if you really want to. He'll show you the damage from that night when he's ready, you know that. So instead of asking for it, you focus on his single lavender eye, noticing a new glow there, a giddiness that's almost childlike, as well as affection.

Then, he leaned in and kissed you once more. His eye shine with excitement as yours closes, and he moans softly against your lips, sending more shivers through your body. You melt into the kiss, just like before, your body molding to his as his tongue probes your bottom lip. You open your mouth, allowing him access, his tongue brushing against yours.

That's when things suddenly changes.

He growls sharply and grips you tighter, both hands flat on your back holding your body against his as he pushes your hips down in a single thrust. You let out a sharp scream into his mouth when you feel his warm, hard erection between his legs. Your eyes roll slightly at the sensation, his hungry lips devouring you, releasing moans into your mouth each time the head of his covered length brushes against your core.

“Oh, oh,” you moan when he finally pulls away and you can breathe, one hand on your heaving chest - but rolling your hips instinctively, making him moan louder than before.

“Yeah, my sweet girl,” he murmurs deeply, voice hoarse from his own arousal. A shudder runs down your spine and you squirm in his lap, clenching your teeth to stop yourself from letting out an undignified moan. But Aemond notices anyway, a devious smile forming on his lips, flushed and swollen from previous kisses. “You like the sound of my voice, don’t you?”

Well, apparently there was no hiding it. You blush and nod softly, small hands curling around the back of his neck as your body moves on pure instinct, rolling your hips into his. The one-eyed prince smiles again and leans towards your ear, his breath brushing your earlobe. You moan as he starts to whisper devilishly in your ear.

“All these years I thought about you, you know. How would you be; your personality, your manners, your appearance. I always knew you would turn out to be a stunning woman." As he speaks, you pant and squirm uneasily, feeling his wet lips sliding erotically across your ear at every word. "There are so many things I want to do with you, Y/n...I want to see you writhe beneath me as I take what has always been mine. I want to hear you scream when I bury my tongue in that sweet pussy. I want to feel your throat squeezing my dick while I fuck your face...”

You do not answer. There are no coherent words that can leave your lips and your mind hazy at this moment. Instead, you roll your eyes and moan, sinking once again onto his pulsing length. Friction is good, but disturbingly insufficient. And maybe Aemond knows this, because in the next movement he's pressing his palm against your sternum and lifting you a little, so that his other hand can snake between your bodies.

The dress gets in the way a little and you blink, confused, but before you can question his movement, the same hand dribbles the volume of your skirt and enters the barriers of your underwear in a skillful glide, brushing the lips of your intimacy. You gasp and throw your head back, supported by his hand on your back. You close your eyes as his fingers stroke your shamefully wet slit and you bite your lip when he parts your lips and presses two fingers against your swollen clit.

You had touched yourself intimately before, of course. But in that moment, you feel as if you are experiencing the sensation for the first time in your life. His fingers are thicker and rougher than yours, pinching and teasing your core in a way you've never done before. He massages your clit in slow circular motions, and the electrifying jolts of pleasure it sends up your spine make it impossible for you to stay still. Your nails dig into the soft flesh at the back of his neck and your moans echo through the abandoned room - and as the speed of his caresses increases, so does your pleasure.

There's a burning pang of discomfort as the same two fingers sink into your tight heat, sliding in gently with the aid of your own wet arousal. The sensation is new and you can't help the way your body tenses in response, your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip. But Aemond kisses your cheek affectionately, giving you a few seconds to get used to the width of his fingers stretching your walls.

"That's it, little bug. Relax for me, you can do it." He murmurs as he feels you relax your limbs and sink your body into his fingers with a shaky sigh, happily accepting the invasion and already yearning for more.

Your hips twitch against his fingers as he slowly pushes them into your core. A thumb running through your folds before pressing hard against your clit. A guttural moan escapes your lips the moment your hand grips the roots of his hair tightly, pulling at the softness of his silver strands until he's grunting at the sensation. The more you pant, the faster his fingers work.

By now his length is impossibly harder and warmer against your thigh, and every time you tug on his hair you feel his cock pulsing in response. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your moans and your breasts press against the solid muscle of his chest, begging for more of his touches.

“Aem,” you say in low, panting breaths just below his earlobe.

“Y/n,” he growls into your skin.

“Give me more of you, please,” your request is greedy and raw.

He pulls his fingers out of you (the wet sound makes your head spin), reaching out and grabbing a fistful of your hair to expose your neck. Aemond drags his tongue from your collarbone to your chin, tasting the sweetness of your skin. The opposite hand, still wet with your juices, wanders up your body to your breasts hidden by the dress, grabbing your left breast so hard that you gasp in surprise at the pain amidst the waves of pleasure.

It's like the most vivid fire in your veins.

“Get up and take off your underwear.”

You push his thighs for support, standing even though your legs are wobbly, sliding your hands up the skirt of your dress. With a quick movement, you pull your underwear off, letting the fabric slide to the floor. Now you're wearing just the long stockings above your knees underneath your dress, the heavy fabric of the skirt clinging to your hands as you keep your intimacy hidden.

"Lift that up so I can see you, love."

His penetrating violet gaze remains fixed on yours; you feel the blush spread from your cheeks to your breasts with his request. But both are too far gone to stop now. With a deep breath, you pull the skirt of your dress up, keeping the fabric secured above your waist as Aemond looks at you.

The hunger in his expression almost disturbs you. The feeling of his gaze trailing up the length of your stockings to the apex of your thighs is like a physical touch. You shudder and look away when you feel him looking directly at your pussy.

"You're fucking perfect. So beautiful." Is all he says, his voice lower than before. Even though his words make you blush, you keep your gaze on the floor for the next few seconds.

"Look at me, babe." He hums, and you can almost feel a small mischievous smile in his voice. "Don't you want to see what you do to me?"

This piques your curiosity and you look at him shyly from under your eyelashes, almost choking when you notice his fingers undoing the fly of his pants. Your breath seems to die in your chest as time passes slowly, his long, pale fingers pulling the waistband of his pants down, grabbing his length and gently lifting it out of the fabric.

Vaguely, you're somewhat aware that your gaze is wide and your lips are parted, but you can't help it. The sight of his long, thick cock trapped between his fingers is almost enough to make you reel, the veins running down his length, the head almost purple and pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your excitement seems to increase tenfold as you watch him run his thumb over the rounded head, spreading all that wetness along his length. He pushes his hand further down and massages his balls still hidden inside his pants.

Your heart pounds, your clit throbs and your brain stops working.

His hand glides along the seam of his cock again, from base to tip, before letting his length rest against the leather of the bottom of his shirt, though you can see how he bounces slightly under the tension of the tight muscle in his belly. “Come take what you need from me, bug.”

You take a deep breath, feeling your legs soften with each step, the moisture that was once contained in your underwear starting to slide down your inner thigh. You move forward to straddle him, Aemond reaching down to your sides to help you adjust, the fabric of your skirt bunched around your waist. He smooths the length of your socks, from the heel to your thighs - squeezing the soft flesh while leaving a gentle, encouraging kiss on your lips.

With great anticipation, you lower yourself onto him, pressing your pussy to the underside of the cock he had so beautifully presented to you. You may feel yourself slipping slightly as the wetness gushes over your folds and all over the silky skin of his penis.

He groans. "You're so soft and wet for me, baby."

“Yeah?” you moan, closing your eyes at the sensation. You made a small movement of your hips forward and felt your clit press against his hardness. You're already shaking. Your pussy is already swollen and pulsating. It will take almost nothing to completely undo you.

You begin to move against him, rocking your hips, following the gratifying bliss that comes with each press of your bud against him. His large hands roam your waist, steadying you so you don't sway to the side, but allowing you the freedom to move as you see fit. You set your own pace, alternating between slow and fast movements, rocking and pressing into him to smother your sex. Your breathing becomes more frantic and when you open your teary eyes, you can see his too.

His dusty cheeks with a soft blush, his half-closed violet gaze, his long eyelashes almost touching his cheek, that eye patch increasing his dark aura, the sharp lines of his jaw, his parted lips...

Your fingers twist in his hair like a vise and Aemond moans your name like a prayer.

His grip moves to the back of your knee, adjusting your leg in a way that keeps you more open for him and your back arches as the searing heat of his cock head pokes your clit again. The friction is so intense and fierce that you perfectly feel every ridge and jagged line of veins down the length of his cock and you want more, more, more, until your bones crack and crumble and burn, until you are nothing but ash scattering Aemond's skin.

"One day...soon...I'm going to take your purity for myself. My cock will be buried so deep inside that pussy that you'll feel me here..." He presses a spot on your belly as he speaks, voice broken and hoarse, sighing faster and faster every second. "I'm going to fuck you every day, every night, in every fucking corner inside and outside this castle."

A cry leaves your throat and you pulse on Aemond's cock.

“There we go, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his lips just whispering against yours when you actually want to take whatever he gives you. You arch again and pull him closer, gyrate your hips insistently, wildly, feverishly, and allow yourself to moan so loudly that the sound settles on the stone walls around you. Aemond stretches his lips into an unhinged and truly frightening smile, wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you in until all you can see, feel, and smell is him. Only him.

He brushes your pussy with precise, firm strokes, meeting your clit with the soft head of his cock and you rub your folds faster and faster with each thrust, all the while moaning his name like it's the only word you knows: Aemond, Aemond, Aemond...

“Tell me,” he breathes into your mouth. He runs his tongue against your bottom lip, then dips in to taste his name in your sighs. “Tell me, Y/n, will you truly be mine this time? Will you stay with me until the end?”

You whimper and shake your head as best you can while you're held in your throat by his fingers, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

"P-please, Aemond...please, we will stay together. Please, that's all I want. I need, I need-"

He pulls you by the throat, wanting you to face him. Your lips drift towards his and he hums in approval, parting his lips to let your tongue meet his. Every kiss and every touch, even the smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, and the little hums and moans from deep in his chest, go straight down your spine and into your groin. You pull away, a trail of saliva forming from his tongue to yours. You look between your bodies and notice his head appearing from below your waist. The slit glistening with precum.

It's deliciously profane.

When you look back up, his gaze is locked on yours, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure. He thrusts even harder somehow, tilting his hips so the head of his cock rubs frantically against your clit and makes you shiver. You hold the back of his neck tighter, moaning.

"Aem...Aemond, I'll...oh-"

“Yeah, fuck,” he whispers against your lips. “That’s it my baby, make love to me. Feel good with me. Come on."

You feel the pleasure building beneath your belly, on your clit, on your nipples. And then you break. Your stomach tightens like a board and your body recoils as the pleasure washes over you. Warm white light explodes in front of your eyes and scatters into colorful dots. You scream and cry, shaking your head. Your pussy squeezing around nothing. Aemond puts his arm under your waist and pushes you even faster; eager to milk himself while you are still tense and sensitive from the orgasm. The pleasure starts to get more raw, scorching like an electric shock. A gradient from pleasure to pain. It's almost uncomfortable and you cry as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

“I know, baby, I know, just hold on. Just be patient with me. I’m so close,” he grunts, muscles tense with euphoria. “I’m so close, please let me cum.”

His jaw clenches and you feel a burst of heat against you. His hips stutter helplessly from the force of his orgasm. And then he finally stops. He stays still. His harsh grunts turn into soft moans and heavy breathing and you feel even more sticky and wet at the evidence of his cum dripping between your legs.

(It's scary how intense the thought of how much you'd rather it were inside you.)

Together you both stay in that boneless, contented trance; your minds going into a reverie. His cock stays nestled against your folds for a few moments, but now it feels like a permanent part of you. Even as he slowly pulls away, you still feel him against your skin. The feeling of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the weight and thickness of his cock as it lived between the swollen lips of your pussy, feels less like a memory and more like a phantom sensation that will last as long as you let it.

You’re almost dozing off when you feel a gentle kiss on your sweaty cheek, his breath on your ear.

"And then, would you say I have adequately redeemed myself?" There's a touch of urgency to his question, even though he tries to sound amused and dismissive - like he really wants your approval, after all.

You smile tiredly against the crook of his neck before lifting your head, meeting his beautiful violet gaze once again. He's also a little sweaty, his silver hair is disheveled from where you squeezed him, and his cheeks are still a little flushed. But he seems more relaxed now than at any time since you arrived at the Red Keep and saw him for the first time.

“Hmm…” You hum, pretending to think about it as you frown and bring your index finger to your lips.

Aemond rolls his eye and you have two seconds to smile at this before he's grabbing your waist and tickling your belly, hitting the same sensitive spots on your flesh as when you were a child, as if no time had passed.

"Aem! Wait- that's not fair!" You laugh and squirm, throwing your head back as your body shakes with each laugh.

"Tell me what I want to hear and I'll stop." He says, calm and collected, but you can hear the amusement in his voice.

"Ah, okay, okay, okay..." You say breathlessly, cheeks red for a completely different reason this time, the corners of your lips hurting from laughing so hard. "You redeemed yourself, completely. I was joking. I swear!"

Obviously satisfied with your response, he loosens his grip on your stomach, letting you breathe normally. You're still smiling, though, feeling the phantom effects of his tickle attack. He looks at you with his head up and his face calm, a small smile on the corner of his lips. He's so different from the boy you knew, physical and emotional, you know it will take a while to get used to this new Aemond. But what he just did made you sure that there was still something of the old Aem there - even if it was buried deep beneath his new self.

"Let's get married. I'm going to ask father tonight." He says, so confident and assured that it makes something in your heart soften and open like the petals of a flower. The smile on your lips diminishes to something softer and more sincere, emotional even, and you tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear.

"Really? You know, my brothers won't like it very much." You whisper teasingly, gaze shining and stomach twisting in gleeful anticipation.

Aemond's smile stretches a little wider, his gaze flickering to something darker.

"I'm counting on it."

You snort, but you can't hold back your smile as you nuzzle your head into his neck once again. The heat of satisfaction blooms even more when you feel Aemond kiss your hairline. With just a little adjustment, you lean back against his chest and close your eyes, happy to be with him like this for a moment. Soon you both will have to get up and go to your respective chambers.

You will talk more about everything that was said and done here when the morning comes, but it is not morning yet. Then you sigh and hold this sweet moment in your arms like a precious jewel.

Like a second chance.

Tagging: @croatianprincess @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @supmymainhuman @navyblue-eternity @gothicxs @toodlesxcuddles @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @thedamewithabook @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @nezzlysixx @maximizedrhythms @mavieemav @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @qyoquixote @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @vyctorya @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @zondereleutheromania @spookymicrowave @wintrr13 @namelesslosers @chainsawangel @beautbuck @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif @qyburnsghost @rwdkarla @dontforgetoctober3rd @violetexpress1

#ARE U KIDDING MEEE #ASKGKWOEGODNWBFJWKDBAKEK #THE BEST SMUT #SO INTENSE AND BEAUTIFUL😩😩😩

[ecstaticactus]

getting into a fandom and reading all the top fics >>>>>

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same energy

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which was more culturally significant? the renaissance or the dinner scene in house of the dragon?

[ecstaticactus]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | xii. {END}

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he’s not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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#oh my god #it was expected but i'm still shocked