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myladysapphire · 4 months

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"Merry Christmas Indeed" - Soft Dark Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Best Friend!Reader

a/n: request from @the-shadow-queen02 combined with one from @foxyanon. also for the ask @hoosbandewan was sent about aemond dragging you off to the bathroom to smash hehehe 🩷

Summary: Ever since you and Aemond were born, your mothers have hoped that the two of you would fall in love, officially bringing your families together. However, for twenty-one years, they've hoped in vain, you and Aemond only remaining the best of friends. This year, you bring your boyfriend from college home as your plus one for the Targaryen family's annual Christmas gala. And your best friend decides to finally let you know how he's felt all along.

TW: manipulation by aemond, gaslighting, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, shitty boyfriend, infidelity (by reader), mirror sex, fingering, some dry humping, unknowing exhibitionism (known by one party and not the other), bel's jacegan agenda, p in v sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, choking

Word Count: 4,650 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Your mothers saw it as a sign when you and Aemond were born on the same day. Alicent said that it was the Seven blessing both of you, divine proof that one day, the two of you would be together. Your mother was never quite as religious as her best friend, but even she couldn’t deny how much she’d love for you to marry Aemond one day. The two of you became fast friends, spending every waking moment together. You practically became a fixture at the Targaryen manor, Aegon and Helaena seeing you as a little sister of sorts. You and Aemond were in the same grade as Jace, Baela, and Rhaena, and even though you adored the three of them? It was always you and Aemond against the world. Partners for every project, going with each other to every party, every dance. Most important of all was your father’s corporation’s annual Christmas gala, where Aemond went as your plus one every year.

Until now.

Aemond taps his fingers against the steering wheel of his car, teeth gritted in annoyance. For twenty-two years, he’s waited for you to finally see him the way he’s always seen you, but here you are, flying home to King’s Landing for winter break with a boyfriend he didn’t even hear about until a few weeks ago. Seven Hells, you’ve never even posted any photos with the guy on your socials and now he’s coming home to meet the family? To be your date to the gala? It’s fucking ridiculous. Apparently, you’ve been dating the asshole for a year, but you kept it to yourself. When Aemond asked why?

“Oh, Aem, you’re just so protective of me! I wanted to wait.”

It’s true. He’s protective. Well, more like possessive, but that’s just because none of these jerks are good enough for you. None of them could ever love you half as much as he does, know you half as well as he does, understand you like he does. Most of your previous relationships ended because of the intimate nature of your and his friendship. Your previous boyfriends expressed discomfort with how close the two of you are, how Aemond acts more like a lover than a friend. Aemond, of course, would always talk sense into you. Telling you that it wasn’t your friendship that was the problem, it was the guys you’d date. That they shouldn’t try dictating how you show your affection to your childhood best friend. And you always believed him without fail.

He waits for you in the arrivals area of King’s Landing International Airport, his good eye scanning the hordes of arrivals from Riverrun until he hears a shriek of your childhood nickname for him, one that if anyone else tried to call him, he’d murder them.

“AEMY!”

He turns, seeing you waving at him frantically as you race through the throngs of travelers in the airport to make your way to him, your boyfriend long forgotten as Aemond rushes forward, the two of you colliding in a tight hug. He lifts you off your feet, spinning you around, grinning at the way you giggle at his actions. He glances just past you, seeing the guy he assumes to be your boyfriend glaring at the pair of you.

“I missed you so much! Three whole months is way too long for us to be separated,” you declare, resting your hands on his forearms when he finally sets you down.

Aemond smiles at you, poking your nose playfully, chuckling at the way you wrinkle it afterward, “It’s been way too long. Texting and FaceTiming were nice and all, but it’s not the same.” He holds your gaze for a long moment, barely holding back a smirk at the way your boyfriend glares at him as he speaks softly, “You look so pretty for someone who just got off a plane. Truly, it’s unfair.”

You grin up at him before your eyes go wide and you suddenly remember your traveling companion, gesturing to the man beside you, “Oh, Aemy, this is my boyfriend, Will. Will, this is Aemond Targaryen, my best friend.” You turn back to Aemond and grin, “He practically knows everything about you with how much I talk about you!”

Aemond’s gaze shifts to Will as he shakes his hand, gripping a tad too tight, trying not to laugh at his wince of discomfort, “Nice to meet you, Will.”

“Likewise,” Will replies through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes in annoyance as you get in between the two and immediately begin fussing over Aemond.

“How come you’re not wearing a thicker jacket? What happens if you get sick coming all the way out here to pick me up, huh? How am I supposed to explain that to your mom?”

Aemond rolls his eyes, grinning down at you and squishing your cheeks together, ignoring your yelp of protest, “Oh, don’t be such a nag. I’ll be fine.”

He tucks you under his arm, the two of you walking toward his car, chattering away incessantly while Will is the odd man out. Aemond makes no effort to include him in the conversation, easily slipping in and out of High Valyrian with you, considering you two learned the language together back in high school. It’s you who realizes that Will can’t understand after he’s been silent for a long while. You turn to your boyfriend and smile apologetically.

“Sorry, babe. I forgot you don’t speak HV. We were just talking about Aemy’s brother.”

Aemond feels quite smug at the knowledge that he has yet another thing in common with you that Will doesn’t. He presses a kiss to your temple, watching as Will’s face blanches at the familiarity between you two. And Aemond decides to ramp things up a notch, speaking in a joking tone, though his words are anything but.

“Why did you have to invite your boyfriend along, hm? I wanted to spend every second of break with you.” He gives Will a tight-lipped smile before adding airily, “No offense, Will. Just really missed my girl.”

You giggle, “Well, I met Will’s family over fall break and I figured it was time for him to meet mine. And to meet you of course. I mean, we’ve been together for almost a year now. Crazy, right?”

Aemond cringes at the happiness in your voice, doing his best to hide the jealousy gnawing at him but failing miserably, “Damn, a whole year?”

“Mhm,” you say, kissing Will’s cheek, missing the victorious smirk he shoots at Aemond as you turn back to the latter, “But Will knows you’re my number one boy, Aemy, don’t worry.”

It’s Aemond’s turn to give Will a smug look when you hug him tightly, his hand resting on your back, the other running through your hair. You’re his. Not Will’s, not anyone else’s. You’re Aemond’s.

You get into Aemond’s car, thanking him as he opens the passenger side door for you, giving Will a pointed look before gesturing at the backseat. Will scowls and climbs in, giving Aemond a dirty look, the two making quick enemies of each other. Aemond takes your hand as he starts the car, smiling to himself when you make no move to let go.

“Your hands feel so soft,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Will to hear.

“I used that YiTish hand cream you bought me on our birthday,” you chirp, relaxing as he traces your palms with his fingers, “I love it.”

Aemond’s heart skips a beat. You love the hand cream he got you. Which means you’ve thought about him while using it, right? You love the gift… And you love him. He moves to rest his hand on your thigh, the feeling of your soft, warm skin against his own making him shiver. He has never wanted anything or anyone as badly in his life as he wants you. No one deserves you, but him. He’s certain of it, especially not that mealy-mouthed little prick in the backseat. He just needs to find a way to get rid of your little boyfriend.

When the three of you arrive at your family’s manor, adjacent to the Targaryens’, you’re delighted to see that your parents are there along with Alicent and Aemond’s Grandpa Otto. You rush to your dad, giving him a tight hug, before embracing your mom, then Alicent, then Otto. You begin rambling about how easy your finals were, Aemond walking up beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You lean into him as is second nature, resting your hand over his. Will clears his throat, however, and you quickly go about introducing him to everyone present. Your mother and Alicent exchange looks of disappointment, though they do their best to greet your boyfriend warmly. Otto simply nods at him, eyeing him up and down with that scrutinizing Hightower gaze. Aemond has never loved his grandfather more.

“It’s strange,” your mother muses aloud, “We all thought our sweet girl would end up with Aemond here.”

“Oh, Mom, you know Aemy and I are just friends!”

Aemond’s soul is crushed at your words. Just friends. But, if he wants to make it out of being “just friends”, he needs to put his pride aside and play the long game. He needs to learn all about Will, find a chip in his armor, and use his weaknesses against him, breaking the two of you up. And who else but Aemond will be your shoulder to cry on? He’ll make sure you see how much you need him. How you could never live without him. He’s going to make damn sure that he’s everything to you.

Your father seems to notice the way Aemond’s expression drops at your denial of any romantic feelings toward him and claps the younger man on the shoulder, cheerfully questioning, “So, son, you coming by to watch the game tomorrow? Harrenhal Ghosts vs Winterfell Direwolves.”

Aemond nods, grinning at your father, “Of course, it’s practically a tradition after all.” He nudges you playfully, “After all, with this one off in the Riverlands, you need someone to scream at the TV with you.”

Your father laughs heartily, slapping Aemond on the back. You look between the two of them, smiling fondly. Aemond has always been so lovely and respectful to your parents, your grandparents, even your aunts and uncles and cousins on the occasions where he’s met them. He’s practically a member of your family at this point. However, you see how out of place Will seems to feel and you pipe in.

“Maybe Will can join you two? I was hoping to go out with the girls tomorrow night to do some last minute Christmas shopping.”

Aemond and your father exchange a weary look, your father sighing while Aemond nods, “Sure, love. Just us dudes and the game.”

He can’t help but overhear you and Will as the two of you whisper to each other in hushed voices.

“I don’t even like basketball.”

“Well, my dad does. Babe, please just make an effort? And Aemy will be there, maybe you two can become friends!”

“Yeah, I’ll pass. Thanks.”

Will moves to go up the stairs, Aemond scowling at his back. He doesn’t fucking deserve you. Aemond would do everything in his power to make you happy. You deserve that much, not some asshole who won’t even put in the effort to watch a basketball game with your dad.

Before you can follow after Will, Aemond calls after you, grabbing you by the hand before you can ascend the stairs, “Why’s your boyfriend being such a cunt?”

You wince, avoiding his gaze, “I don’t know. I think he’s just tired.”

“He shouldn’t be too tired to talk to your dad. He’s being rude and disrespectful. Your dad is one of the kindest men I know. Will is being a prick.”

You rest a hand on Aemond’s chest as if to calm him, looking up to meet his eyes, “Aemy, don’t. I… I’ll handle this. I think maybe he’s just feeling like a third wheel because of how close you and I are. I just need to tone it down a bit. Not everyone understands our friendship.”

Your touch is comforting and warm and gentle, everything he associates with you, and yet, it makes him feel as if his whole body is on fire. He looks into your eyes, resting his hand on top of yours before responding.

“You shouldn’t have to compromise our friendship for an insecure jerk.”

You bite your lip and nod, “Yeah, you’re right. Um, just give me like five minutes to talk to him, okay?” Aemond nods, squeezing your hand before you walk away, his heart thumping against his chest when you turn back and smile, “Hey. I love you.”

You’re the only person in his life other than his mother he’s ever felt comfortable saying those three words to, and so he replies with a soft smile, “I love you too.”

Maybe you’re finally beginning to see him as more than your best friend. Maybe you’re finally beginning to see him the way he’s always seen you.

A soulmate. Your other half. Your everything.

Later that night, you take Will out to meet the rest of your childhood gang, which mainly consists of Aemond’s family: his older brother Aegon, his sister Helaena, his nephew Jace, Jace’s stepsisters Baela and Rhaena, and Jace’s boyfriend Cregan. After greeting everyone, you excuse yourself to catch up with the girls for a moment, and Aemond can’t help but wonder if it’s to seek advice about him. However, even if that’s what you were planning, Will follows after you, an arm wrapped around your waist.

Aegon turns to his brother, “Yo, who’s the tagalong?”

Aemond scoffs, realizing Will hasn’t made an effort to engage with anyone present, “That would be Will. The boyfriend, for some inexplicable reason.”

Jace and Cregan approach the brothers, Jace’s brows furrowed as he comments, “Yo, that guy? He’s a fucking tool.”

Cregan voices his agreement, shooting Will an annoyed glare, “That guy has one hell of an attitude, and for what?”

“I mean, we’re all practically family. Jace, Creg, and I are like brothers to her,” Aegon adds, “And you-”

“I’m gonna say it,” Jace interjects, raising his hands in the air, “It should be Aemond dating her. I said it.”

“You’re right, babe, and you should say it,” Cregan chuckles.

Aemond scratches the back of his neck, biting back a smile. Jace is right. It should be him. Gods, it should be him.

“So this is the first year you’re not her date to the gala?”

Aemond sighs before replying to his brother, “Yeah. I’m not taking a date this year. It’s her or no one.”

His brother, Jace, and Cregan look at him with sympathetic smiles. They don’t know how deep his love for you runs, but they have some idea. You glance over at Aemond, locking eyes with him and giving him a soft smile before returning to your conversation with Baela, Helaena, and Rhaena. While you sparkle and shine, your kind heart and sweet personality showing through, Will looks annoyed. Aemond can’t imagine being upset at you socializing with your childhood friends. Everyone seems to be having a good time tonight except for him.

And you notice it, Aemond muses, with the way you step away from him every time he comes closer, the way you avoid his touch. Maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to understand that the one you want has been right in front of you all along.

Over the course of the next few days, Aemond slowly begins to fill you with doubts about your new relationship. He points out little things about Will you wouldn’t have otherwise noticed. And, of course, he remains attached to your side, the two of you partnering up for everything, from sledding to building snowmen. And he always gives Will a haughty little smirk, declaring that it’s tradition. Aemond is making it clear that you’re his. That Will may be the boyfriend, but he’ll always be the priority. And you never once try to stop him.

The day of the Christmas gala rolls around and Aemond’s breath catches in his throat when he sees you coming down the staircase of your family’s manor, Will on your arm. Though he may not be your date this year, you and Aemond are still matching, your gown a deep shade of red that matches his cravat. Will was not aware of the fact, however, and glances between the two of you suspiciously, demanding to know what the hell this is, why the two of you are matching.

You give Aemond an exasperated look before attempting to calm Will, “He’s my best friend, babe. We always match.”

Will sighs in annoyance before turning to Aemond, a cocky grin on his face, “Hey, Aemy. You like my girlfriend’s necklace? It looks good on her, doesn’t it?”

Aemond presses his lips together, smiling thinly as he looks at the silver necklace you’ve been wearing the duration of this trip. He nods, thinking to himself how you’re not going to be wearing it for much longer, the thought bringing him some degree of comfort which is much needed with the way Will is hovering over you as if he owns you.

He waits for Will to turn away before speaking, a bit too loudly in the hopes that your boyfriend will hear him and start something, “He doesn’t get you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Not tonight, Aemy,” you plead, walking toward Will.

Are you… Are you going to dance the first dance with him? You’ve always danced it with Aemond. He can’t let this happen. Ever since the two of you were twelve, you’ve danced the first dance of the Christmas gala with him, and he’ll be damned if he lets Will ruin that tradition too. Aemond grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“May I have this dance?”

You look between him and Will, the latter of whom is glaring at you, expecting you to turn down your best friend. You seem torn, on the edge of breaking down as you mumble that you need some air. And Aemond realizes that where Will will likely push, He needs to let go. Because that’s what you want.

“You can dance with him. It’s okay.”

You blink at Aemond owlishly, looking back at Will who holds out his hand expectantly. You turn to Aemond once again and smile up at him, almost shy as you take his hand.

“It’s bad luck to break tradition.”

Aemond’s heart soars as he leads you to the dance floor, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. You chose him. You chose him over Will. Aemond pulls something out of his pocket, causing you to gasp. It’s a beautiful sapphire pendant, which contrasts with the color of your dress beautifully. You cover your mouth, looking up at Aemond.

“Aemy? What’s this for?”

He shrugs, “You deserve the best. And this is just a small token of my appreciation for you. To show you how much I love you.”

He’s said he loves you so many times before, but this time, it feels like there’s a deeper meaning behind it as you gaze into each other’s eyes. You immediately remove the necklace Will gave you and ask Aemond if he’ll put the sapphire pendant on you, irritating your boyfriend as he stands off to the side, watching Aemond brush your hair off your shoulder and fasten the necklace, his fingertips lingering on your skin. You turn back around to face him, the sapphire laying nestled between your breasts, shimmering brilliantly as you trace it with your fingers. You look radiant, like you always do.

“It matches your eyes,” you beam up at him, “It’s like having a piece of you with me always.”

Aemond’s cheeks flush as he looks at you. He has never loved you more than he does right now, and he’s barely able to keep himself from ravishing you right there, in full view of the rest of the gala guests. In full view of your boyfriend.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” you correct, leaning up to kiss his cheek, your lips lingering against his skin for a moment as you whisper, “Thank you. For being you.”

He has to remind himself to breathe as the two of you begin to waltz. You fit so perfectly in his arms that he can’t help but feel a bit giddy. The way your lips felt against him, the way your soft skin feels against his hands. It feels like a real life fairytale as the two of you move across the room, everyone present commenting on what a beautiful couple the two of you would make. Alicent and your mother can hardly contain their joy at the sight of you two, the way you look at each other.

Like two people deeply, helplessly in love.

When the dance comes to an end, you step away from Aemond reluctantly, murmuring, “I should find Will…”

Aemond tilts his head to the side, “Find Will? What for?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend, Aemond,” you reply, though you don’t sound sure of the fact yourself.

“He can wait,” Aemond says firmly, pulling you into his arms. The fire that is his love for you has grown into a raging inferno, one that he can’t hope to put out, his lips pressed to your ear as he whispers, “You’re mine tonight. Every night from now on.”

Your eyes go wide with surprise as Aemond pulls you by the hand, leading you to the bathroom in the parlor, pinning you between the sink and his body. He’s so close to you that you can smell the scent of his aftershave, feel his breath on your face, his firm, muscular frame pressed against you.

You meet his gaze, asking quietly, “Aemy? What’s going on?”

Aemond hears a creaking noise, one that you seem to miss, and sees Will from the corner of his eye, watching this encounter. It’s now or never. It’s time to get rid of him once and for all.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now,” Aemond says, his hands moving to hold your hips.

And then? His lips come crashing down against yours. You’re frozen in shock at first, but Aemond doesn’t stop. And soon enough, he feels you relax into his arms, resting your hands on his chest as you return his kiss. Aemond pulls you even closer, urgency and need in his touch, his tongue snaking its way between your lips to explore your mouth. And it feels so right. This moment that he’s waited for years to happen is finally here. He kisses you harder, glancing in the mirror to see that Will is still watching the two of them, frozen in place.

Aemond’s lips move to your neck, allowing you to protest weakly between moans, “Aemy, I have a boyfriend.”

His voice is husky against your skin as he whispers, “I don’t care. And neither do you. We’re meant to be together.”

You let out a gasp of surprise as he lifts you up onto the sink, hands squeezing at your thighs as he continues kissing your neck, biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulders, leaving his mark before soothing the bruised skin with his tongue. Your hands move into his hair, tugging gently as you whimper, feeling him grinding his hard on against you. And all the while, he knows Will is watching. Watching Aemond reclaim what has always belonged to him. You grind your hips against his feeling as his fingers draw circles around your clit over the fabric of your panties. Your head falls back against the mirror as he continues.

“H-how long?”

“Ever since I was old enough to know what love is,” Aemond whispers, moving your underwear a side, pushing two of his long fingers inside you, groaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, curving them in a come hither motion and rubbing against you faster than you’ve ever been able to do yourself, “From that moment on, you were mine.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you again, his lips swallowing your moans as he finds that spot deep inside you that has you all but screaming his name, the high heels of your shoes digging into the back of his jacket as he continues, unrelenting in his movements. You feel Aemond’s hand gently smack your cheek, your eyes flying open to meet his.

“Don’t you fucking look away,” he demands, “Look at the way your pretty little pussy squeezes around my fingers. Look how bad you want me.”

You do as he asks, the sight of his fingers moving in and out of you making your entire body heat up with a strange combination of shame and lust, the wet squelching sounds making the whole situation all the worse. You come around Aemond’s fingers, soaking them with the evidence of your arousal, watching with a dumbstruck expression as he brings the digits to your lip, saying only one word.

“Suck.”

You wrap your lips around his fingers, licking them clean, tasting yourself as you rest your hand on his. Aemond watches you with a little smirk on his lips before spinning you around so that both of you are facing the bathroom mirror. Will moves back slightly, remaining just out of sight, watching as Aemond lifts your dress up and lands a hard slap against your ass, eliciting a quiet moan from you. He undoes his pants and frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, slapping the head of it against your clit, loving the way your body trembles beneath him. He pushes inside of you, agonizingly slow, one of his hands moving to caress your throat, forcing you to look in the mirror as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

You wonder to yourself for a moment if you’re watching some dirty movie, the noises you and Aemond make being borderline pornographic as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust of his hips. He squeezes your throat gently, making you whine, your fingers moving to circle your clit, the additional stimulation bringing you closer to your peak.

“You’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?” Aemond growls against your ear, his hips stuttering against yours as his thrusts become more frenzied, more erratic, “This body, this perfect little cunt, it’s all mine. Mine to love, mine to fuck, mine.”

“Yours, yours, Aemond,” you breath, “Fuck, I’m close…”

“Come with me, baby,” he coos, “Come with me.”

You reach your peak, feeling him spill himself inside you moments after. You stand there for a moment, the feeling of his cum dripping down your thighs strangely erotic as you turn to face him. You pull Aemond into another kiss, neither of you paying any attention as Will storms back to the guest room to grab his things and return to his hometown, Highgarden, without a girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Aemond? He just presses his lips to your neck, the two of you making yourselves presentable once again as you get ready to head back to the party. Your sapphire sparkles against your skin, but nothing shines more brightly than the smile on your face when Aemond announces to the entire gala that he has a question to ask you, dropping to his knees and proposing.

Yes, maybe he’s moving a little too fast. Maybe it’s crazy. But you don’t care. You realize now that all you ever wanted was right there in front of you all along.

And Aemond? It would seem his effort at playing the long game was rewarded, and most handsomely.

A Merry Christmas indeed.

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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Taglist

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#aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targeryen #hotd #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #ewan nation

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

1 - Wolves of the Lone Stag

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (slow burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: Slow Burn, Strained parent-child issues, mentions of minor character death, secret relationship, arranged marriage, injured/sick child mention, smut, p in v, slight dom/sub dynamics, loss of virginity

Notes: Reader is firstborn daughter of Stannis Baratheon, based off the show but will include direct book elements, slight canon divergence. First Chapter is really long due to set up, subsequent future chapters won't be quite such a massive read. Chapter Two Here.

Travelling along the Kingsroad was far longer and more tedious with this company. Normally you would spend only so much time on here from White Harbour, most of the journey done on sea. Yet now, there were far too many people and it’s leader insisting on treating the journey as it’s own adventure. By the time you reached Winterfell it would be a month on horseback and no one to entertain your morose demeanour. Though perhaps you had to consider that it wasn’t just the company of the others that was less then ideal.

You had the supposed misfortune of being the daughter to the less favoured of the three Baratheon brothers. Robert, King Robert to those in public company, was a more complicated man. A mix of a man who successfully kept the peace for over twenty years but also was as unhappy on the throne and was unafraid to show it. He did however, have enjoyment in wine, hunting, and did hold a jovial laughter that kept people around him.

Your other uncle, was much more agreeable. Renly was the youngest of them and was charismatic and well liked. He was naive, not really a man suited for leadership but he did the best with what he knew to do. Closer to your age, you often found yourself spending time with him and it was right now that you were annoyed he chose to stay back in Kings Landing. A month with the King, his own family and the entire royal brigade and not one of them knew how to get a smile from you.

That was a trait from your father no doubt. Stannis Baratheon was the middle child, and he was easily the most disliked. He was cold, distant, unemotional and seldom allowed laughter at his table. He took his job seriously, more seriously then the King did his sometimes. In his prime, he was a proven battle commander and he never lost that. Robert was a warrior and he was happiest as such, but Stannis had never stopped being a commander and whether it made him liked or not, it taught you to be who you were now.

A Lady of the House Baratheon, firstborn daughter to Stannis and heir of Dragonstone was your current position and you were taught to uphold that name. Often found with a flat expression, close to a scowl as you walked the capitol you found nothing to enjoy there. Not that Dragonstone was where you’d find happiness either. The only place that had never been your home was the one you felt it in.

You had turned eight when your father had begun sending you out. Brought up, he ensured you had a Lord’s education as well as what all girls were taught. If you were to take up the mantle after him, he wanted you to learn from those that would teach you to be like him. That was when he sent you to Winterfell for the first time. Not a friend of Lord Eddard of House Stark, but your father did respect him the most. Two men both stern with upholding honour and justice, always doing what is right and what is honourable rather then what they wanted.

You spent seven months in Winterfell, and it was the first time your mother and father hadn’t been there for your name day. At the time, it made you sad but you had long since gotten over it. Over more then a decade had passed since your first stay in the north and many name days had been spent there with no word from your family. Well, at least your parents. The only family member you spoke too and more fondly with then Renly, was your baby sister. Shireen Baratheon was not just the light of your life but your fathers too. Some used to say that you were the only one who could make Stannis smile but you were nothing compared to how he smiled at that little baby.

You were fine with her being the favourite, she was your favourite family member as well.

Not long after baby Shireen had beaten a bout of horrific illness, your father had been summoned to Kings Landing. The King telling him that he was of no use to the realm shut away on Dragonstone, and he was to come to the capitol and sit on the small council as Master of Ships. He had taken you with him, and thus your new home was the wretched city full of backstabbers and manipulators.

Back and forth you went from Kings Landing to Winterfell, each stay growing longer and each stay you grew closer to the Starks then you did anyone in the Red Keep. Lord Stark was the perfect example of a good leader, warden of the North and inspired nothing but loyalty amongst the northerners and made you as welcome as anyone in his home. You followed him around most days, learning from him, watching how he handled diplomacy and made his lessons your own.

It was that how you got to know his ward, Theon Greyjoy. A rambunctious lad who listened diligently in formality and was crass and brash outside of that. You knew he would hate Kings Landing but often found yourself at your fathers side wishing the smart ass was next to you, nudging you with his elbow every time you were too closed off for your own good. It was easy to forget that he was technically the Starks prisoner, he fit into their family, the north as well as you did.

Not quite a leader as you were being taught to be, but you were confident once he had the chance to prove himself, you’d expect great things from him. You’d gotten a raven from him while on the road, and in his usual style he spent some time making fun of you for having to be “shacked up with the lamest of the three”.

Right. The reasons your company headed to Winterfell. The King had one, you were being forced into another though. The news shocking you as Stannis told you of your new duty the night before you left was double. That he was leaving for Dragonstone and you were to return to Kings Landing with Lord Stark and serve as acting Master of Ships in his absence.

He wasn’t just dumping his responsibilities onto you with no explanation of his distant behaviour and secrecy, your father had also dumped a marriage onto you and told you that you were to marry and come back. As if he didn’t just dictate your entire life to be like his. “You will marry the Stark boy, and with or without him you are to return in my place.”

Trying to reason with him, “You’re expecting me to have, what? A night maybe two with my new husband and then leave for however long you decide?”

Not even the slightest change of expression, but there was a twinge of regret in his eyes that was soon covered up. “I didn’t decide this alone. My brother, our king, has decided it with no room for question. I’m sorry, but you’re a Baratheon. You’re my daughter. And sometimes our duty requires us to marry not for love, but for the good of the realm.”

You had spoken to your betrothed since the announcement, but had yet to see him in person. A major reason as to why you wished Renly had come with you. Have someone to ease your nerves on the months ride, instead you were entirely on your own lost in what you were losing.

After all, you received a raven from not just Robb after the announcement. And it was that second one, and the finality of it’s contents that shattered the still remaining rosy dreams you once felt as if you had a lifetime to indulge in. Who your betrothed was, wasn’t the upset in any way. It was the unavoidable conclusion of the love in your heart that simply wasn’t allowed to be.

As the party approached Winterfell, your heart begun to race.

The crisp cool air on your face that once relaxed you, only stoned it further into a solid expressionless pose. Reminding yourself that you weren’t just here as yourself, you were to represent your father and you wouldn’t do so by falling apart. You rode into the walls right up near the very front alongside your craven of a cousin. He represented the luxurious royal side of the family, and you the steadfast duty and justice.

The House guard stood all around the courtyard as well as many people who simply worked close by or wanted to just see the King. Riding into the main area, you refused to look. The Starks all stood with their closest men behind them but you looked nowhere but above the heads of everyone with a straight back atop of your horse.

The carriage which carried the Queen and the other two of her royal children filed in and revealed the King following suit. Your eyes forcing to stay nowhere but him, and it struck part of you that his deep scowl seemed to just be a trait that was shared amongst much of this family. As your party stayed atop their horses, you watched everyone near kneel down as Robert was assisted off his horse.

Watching him make a straight line towards the Starks, he stood in front of the kneeling Lord Stark beckoning him with his hand to stand. Everyone around them rising in toe as you watched the two old friends look stoically at one another. The quiet in the courtyard as everyone waited.

King Robert, it seemed, left posing the stoic formality of the Baratheons to you. Looking down at his friend’s frame and casually commenting, “You got fat.”

Two magnets, designed by the gods to be brought together your eyes met without any thought. His grey ones widened with a playful glint and a raise of the sides of his mouth as if to say, “He got fat?” You, broke just as easily. Quirking your eyebrows up slightly, trying and failing to cover a smirk as you flickered your eyes in gesture to the King, agreeing with his silence as you both instantly looked away from the other. Knowing neither would smother such a begging grin if you kept glancing at each other.

Robert greeting each member of the family, making polite chat with the Stark parents you climbed off your horse. Your head angled enough to see your cousin, Joffery, staring at the direction you just had with a smirk you would describe in private as slimy.

You weren’t the only one with a betrothal in mind for your King, but it was the other Stark which would suffer. Somehow whatever genes made the Baratheons so respected, had skipped Joffery in every single capacity. He was more Lannister then he was his father, and not even with the decency to be like the one lion which you could speak to without agitation.

You couldn’t say Sansa was the one you got along with the most, but watching the way the prince looked at her, you pitied what she couldn’t possibly know she was in store for.

“Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects.”

Cersei Lannister, the Queen, barley made an effort to toss any level of genuinity in her voice. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.”

Her term of endearment sounding as fake to your Uncle as it did you, he ignored her and summoned Lord Stark anyways. The Queen glaring as they walked away, and directed it towards the youngest Stark daughter, Arya as she without any care of properness, asks where the “Imp” was. The Imp being the Queens younger brother, Tyrion.

Were you to be honest, as you unpacked some of your things from your horse you could only think of one place he would go. And he certainly would not find such a place inside the castle walls. Seeing the Queens twin brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard to “go and find the little beast.” Holding another smirk back, you heard footsteps approaching.

Not the ones you normally would expect, he wouldn’t come to you here. Not now, not in front of the royal family, all these people, and certainly not after learning you’ve come here to marry. Instead, the voice that spoke behind you was the only other person you’d care to see, calling your name.

Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark’s eldest true born son stood tall behind you. His northern accent deep and thick, and drenched in a soothing warmth that always felt comforting yet unfitting of the cold he lived around. Turning to face him, you could still see the trailing remnants of the Queen and her children in the distance.

Play your part, your fathers voice told you. With a slight nod of your head and a smile you clearly amused Robb with such a proper curtsy. “My lord.”

A raise of his eyebrows, he had less care of hiding such a smirk. “Is that how we are playing it, my lady?”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling, but still failed somewhat. Robbs smirk growing more playfully smug as he watched you lose your static composure. “I don’t know what you mean, my Lord. I am here with the royal company, we are nothing if not with our courtesies at all times.”

Dropping the act, Robb rolled his eyes and stepped closer. “Well if you’re people have a problem with it, they will just have to get over it.” Pulling you into a hug, you felt part of your racing heart and screaming nerves settle a bit.

You’ve known Robb since that first visit when you were eight. No matter what you were both being shoved into, he wasn’t anything near a stranger. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest as your face was snuggle tugged into the deep browns of his cloaks fur. Soft as anything, they helped sooth your heart more and he seemed to hold you for as long as it did his as well. His voice low in your ear this time, “We’ll talk in private.”

Pulling away with a deep inhale, you nodded. Face falling back into a stoic composure. It sometimes took you a little bit to drop the harsh demeanour you lived with once you got to Winterfell, but with this company in toe you felt bad that the Starks weren’t going to really get you in any relaxed form. Nodding at Robb you fell quiet, but he was happy to take up the mantle with enough volume for those around to be satisfied with. “Let me help bring your things up, my lady.”

In the corner of your eye as Robb slung the heavier of your bags over his shoulder and you insisting on carrying at least the lighter one, you caught sight of his mother. Lady Catelyn Stark, originally born to House Tully, was something of a complicated relationship for you. You admired her in countless ways, and you saw her more as a mother then you did your own for many years growing up. But there was no mistaking the slight rift that was caused by the only other member of the family you were closer too then her eldest son.

That one though, was nowhere to be seen. You both knew full well that such a meeting was going to have to happen in private, and you hoped you would find time to sneak away from the feast tonight to get it. You two had to talk, you needed to talk to him before you marry or your resolve might crumble.

She watched you and Robb politely walk through the court towards the main doors. Describing their home as a castle felt odd after living in both Dragonstone and Kings Landing. The Starks castle in Winterfell was home in your heart, not a fancy collection of stonework designed to impress. Robb had written that the news came as surprise to all of them, that Lady Catelyn had tried to protest saying that the King shouldn’t just force this on you.

Her husband had to remind her, that they married of duty and look where they are now. You hoped that your companionship with Robb’s brother had not soured her opinion of you being capable of being a good wife. Robb didn’t have your heart the way he did, but he would be the one to keep it from now on and you hoped Lady Catelyn wouldn’t hold it against you.

Falling in love with Robb was not the impossible, in fact he could make that quite easy.

Making small talk of the trip here as you and Robb passed a numerous amount of servers and maids scurrying about the halls, you were thankful for how well you knew him. That the tensity in his stature would only relax the second the door would shut and you both would drop this growing painful act.

Your room was in a corridor away from the main family, closer to where Theon stayed. Many times the main four of you would stay in either his or your room to drink, laugh and get into trouble all without the keen ears of the Stark parents. Your room in Winterfell was a place that you could stop being the daughter and first born heir of Lord Stannis Baratheon, and just be you.

The room had been freshly cleaned, new sheets draped on the bed frame as well as a cozy fur begging you to plop down onto it with a sigh and a nap to boot. Robb dropped your bag down by the window, holding his hand to take the one in your hands to join it. Turning to you, he watched as you let out a shaking sigh.

Your face dropping, finally free to shine in a tinge of shame and exhaustion as you sat down on the edge of the bed, your palms flat on your thighs. Opening your mouth to speak, he cut you off with a sharp edge. “Don’t apologize.” Your brows narrowed in question, but Robb paced over to lean against the wall across from you. His arms crossed casually in front of his chest as he looked into your eyes. “You were about to say sorry for all of this, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Head dropping, you bit your tongue more and nodded. Hands clasping together in a fidget before returning to rest flat on your thighs. His eyes shined blue, and out of the sunlight his hair looked far closer to a Stark brown then it did a Tully Red, if your heart didn’t weigh a thousand pounds you might have spent more time admiring him. “I just,” Sighing again you looked away, unable to cope with the unblinking seriousness in his eyes. “I only found out before you did. I don’t want you thinking I asked for this, or am trying to force you into this.”

Robbs sigh wasn’t defeated, but annoyed. You hadn’t the courage to look again yet. Your name slipping from his tongue with a seriousness. “No one here thinks that.” Glancing up at him, you felt your resolve slip even more. “No one.”

Not that Robb would have any reason to suspect it, but you were desperately hoping that one person in particular didn’t think that out of everyone. Robb took a few steps forward, hoping to beckon you to look up at him, but instead chose to sit down next to you. Enough space between you to not be intrusive. Your voice was small, quiet like a whisper and you knew this was not the words of a proud lady, but just a girl. “He hadn’t even brought up marriage in years. Not since..”

You faded off, both of you know what you were going to say but luckily Robb knew that reliving it would not make you feel any better. He leaned closer to you without breaking your personal space. “Your father has talked to you about marriage more then he has me, at least. In some ways you’re more prepared for this then I am.”

Laughing out, you didn’t turn to see the soft smile on his lips at the sound. “Oh I doubt that. You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my parents. Between them, and being around the King and Queen’s marriage? It it weren’t for yours I’d assume every married couple is bitter and unloving to the point of near contempt.”

A breathy laugh leaving him, you were thankful once more that at least your husband to be was someone whom you didn’t have to hold you thoughts around. Robb leaned back on the bed, his palms outstretched to rest against the furs and look at you partially from the back and side. “We could get separate beds if it makes you feel better.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at the mocking in his tone. Quick to turn around with the intention of snarking back he took you by surprise. Lurching forward to wrap his hands around your waist and drag you back with him, both of you laying now back against the bed as he respectfully moved his hands from you. His eyes shined with laughter however, and it loosened yours enough to laugh out loud.

Playful words sat at the tip of your tongue, but what came out was far from it. “It feels like he’s planning something,” turning to look at Robb’s profile against the light coming from the window. “My father. He and Lord Arryn have been doing something in secret, and he kept me away from it on purpose. Both of them seemed to be worried about something, and then...”

“Then he died.” Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and a long time friend of both the King Robert and Lord Stark had passed from a fever that took him in one night.

You nodded. Glancing up to the ceiling as your hands rested along your stomach. “He was fine one day, and then he just...not even a day later was when my father called me to his office. Told me everything, about coming here, about your father, then just..ended the conversation with this.” Your eyes narrowed as you recalled the sternness of his rasp.

“You’re to marry the Stark boy then return here in my place. I won’t have any more questions on the matter.”

Robb was lost in thoughts of his own, tone light yet distant when he spoke up. “He wants my father to be Hand of the King. He hasn’t even been in Kings Landing since the war.”

You understood why. Not just the horrors inflicted on Lord Starks father and brother, but it was a den of vipers all wanting you to play a game that a man like him would want no part in. None of the Starks belonged there, too good for a disgusting place the capitol was. Sighing yourself, you shrugged. “He’ll hate being there as much as my father does, as much as I do. At least I’m the Kings niece I’m supposed to belong there.”

Robb turned onto his side and you followed suit. Your dress hardly made for proper warmth like his attire was, but the Queen insisted that you dress properly to impress your to be husband. As if the man in question hadn’t seen you covered in dirt, mud, bruises and knocked you into the dirt countless times over the years. You didn’t feel like yourself anywhere but here, and yet with the royals all here you still didn’t feel like yourself.

Just a plaything meant to look pretty and play the part. For once, you felt like a normal highborn lady you supposed. Born and bred to be a wife that's born to breed. You were looking at Robb, and yet you reminded yourself with a lurch of your heart to push back the other face in your mind.

Later you told yourself.

Robb’s voice was low, soft, and with an affection that at the very least, wasn’t unusual for him. “You haven’t belonged there in a long time.”

Your tone dropped quieter then his. “Where do I belong then?”

To his credit, it wasn’t with himself that he said. “Here. You belong here.”

By nightfall you still hadn’t seen him. You’d seen many of the others. Arya being the first, practically running past Robb into your room and leaping into a hug with zero sense of formality. You knelt down somewhat to meet her with a loud laugh. With a zillion questions about if you’re staying, did you know, does this make you her sister, you were blissfully reminded of the only other girl who held your heart like that.

Shireen wasn’t a trouble maker like Arya had a tendency to be, but they had a similar spirit. She felt as much like your sister as the one back on Dragonstone was by birth. Sansa had to call her away, annoyed as ever and with a fluster as she addressed you. The paintings of a crush all over her face from the blonde haired fowl faced cousin, and you wished it was any other boy Sansa was to be promised too.

Well, as Robin Arryn briefly popped into your mind you laughed to yourself. Maybe not any of other boy. Starling the handmaiden attending to your dress as you shook your head in apology. You could dress yourself easily for a normal night in the North, but alas the Queen insisted that you impress your husband to be. As if he wasn’t someone you had known for over a decade as one of your very closest friends.

You did however, stop them fervently as they reached for your hair. The Queen could dress and paint you up like a doll and you wouldn’t really fuss at the treatment, but you would rather cross the wall and throw yourself into a frozen lake before you’d let any of those southern up-dos go anywhere near your hair. If judging by the look you got from the Queen during the feast, she wasn’t pleased in any way, but then again she rarely was ever pleased by anything.

Sat next to Robb during the feast, you were thankful that he and the other guys at the table treated you like they always did. To a degree, it was a bit off putting by your much more distant attitude but judging by the glances you made to the Queen they gathered enough that you were more on guard. The hall was filled to the brim with people, ale, music and laughter.

Off in the distance you could see King Robert laughing with a group of men, and his hands happily exploring a woman who was most certainly not his wife. Most didn’t care, and the ones who did never would say anything. He was King he could do what he wanted. Lady Catelyn much to your sympathy was stuck up at the main table sat next to the Queen herself and struggling to find any conversation that didn’t make the woman utterly miserable.

“Out of all the Northerns, you get stuck with this one?” Theons voice rang out, a lightness in his eyes and ale in his veins. You leaned your elbow on the table and pointed at him with a playful raise of your eyebrows.

“At least this one’s pretty, Greyjoy.”

Laughter from all around the table, and even finally sneaking one from yourself. Theon would sometimes flirt with you, but never in a serious manner. It almost was a game. He would start with a flirtatious comment and it quickly spun into who could jokingly insult the other more after you deny him with a snarky remark first. “Aye, but you’d get some nice experience with me.”

Robb tossing a ripped piece of bread at him with a half hearted protest of his own experience, but you leaned back in your seat bringing your mug to your lips. “What experience is that, exactly? Paying women to pretend to moan for you isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my wedding night.”

Pushing it back down, if you joked about it you didn’t have to think about the reality. With no experience of your own, you weren’t immune to the whispers of girls and women of their nights with pain and blood. At least you would get one single thing right come time for that part of the wedding. You almost didn’t though, and the longer you kept trying to not think about it, the more you felt yourself looking for someone you knew wasn’t there.

You had to talk to him, but the first day in Winterfell was just far too busy for it thus far.

Opportunity luckily, arrived in the form of Arya being unable to behave. You and Robb had been joking and laughing about something when the sight of food flinging from another side of the room caught your eyes. The food in question splatting directly onto Sansa’s face as she yelled out indigently.

The quickness of Arya smiling and going back to pretend as if she didn’t do anything got a laugh out of you, but also drew the attention of Lady Catelyn. Gesturing to Robb over, his face fell more serious as he brushed a hand over your lower back as he stood up. Grabbing Arya around the sides and hoisting her up. “Time for bed.”

Glancing around the room, Lady Catelyns eyes elsewhere, as was the Queens. Lord Stark talking to who you recognized as his brother Benjen and now Robb gone you took the opportunity you really shouldn’t have. Standing up, you made your way slowly to the entrance, downing the last of the ale before slinking out unseen.

Or rather, unseen by all but the watchful eyes of a golden Lion.

Alone for once, you allowed yourself to be annoyed. The chill of the air hit you with a sting as you were entirely undressed for the cold of the night. Not even graced with a seat at a lower table, no he was put out here as if his existence was so offensive to anyone but her. His birth wasn’t his fault, and as much as you admired and liked her?

It never failed to chip away at something angering in you, how Lady Catelyn treated Jon Snow.

You heard his voice before you saw him, but it the second voice that took you by surprise. “Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though.”

Lord Tyrion Lannister in your sights slowly walked up to Jon, who was faced away from you. There was a bluntness in his words but also a sympathy in his eyes. Leaning back against a stone wall, you watched in quiet.

“Lord Eddard Stark is my father.”

And yet, just as so many liked to remind him, Lord Tyrions words were those that many have said in response. “And Lady Stark is not your mother. Making you, a bastard.”

Watching him with narrowed eyes, you held back any defence in your blood. Likely he was the only Lannister which you didn’t entirely distrust towards him. Jon Snow had more then enough people ensuring him he would never be like his brothers and sisters.

Your arms crossed over your chest, and breathe visible in the cold you listened to the man tell him wear what he is like armour. Jon, however, did not seem to be in such a mood. His voice was low, a thick northern accent that came out more like an entrancing rasp then Robb’s warm soothing one. It also, was lined with that of a temper you knew the older Jon got, the more he struggled with. “What the hell do you know about being a bastard?”

Fingertips itching to reach out, but you stayed put. Listening to Lord Tyrion’s final comments before departing to whatever plans he had for the night. “All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes.”

Jon wasn’t heartless, nor stupid. Somewhere inside him, you knew he sympathized with the Lannister but being shut out of a feast in the cold, on top of what you knew was looming? Jon had little room left to care about simmering that temper.

Lord Tyrion caught your eye as he passed, a tilt of his head and question in his eye you simply looked flat and unblinking. He wouldn’t say anything, but that didn’t mean he didn’t store his curiosity about your sudden watchful appearance for later.

Slowly approaching, you called out only once the sound of doors closing behind you left the courtyard in silence from the muffled party behind you. “Think he’s dead yet?”

Spinning to face you at the sound of your voice, you hated how unable you were to quell your heart looking at him. Walking towards him, you saw Jon put the sword away entirely before circling around to meet you halfway. It took less then second for both of you to glance around, watch for the no eyes any could see before he closed the rest of the gap.

Scooping you up into his arms, almost spinning you in place as you both held the other tightly. “I missed you.” Your voice muffled in this luscious dark curls, he put you down gently on your feet. His hands on your upper arms still before glancing up. Changing his mind, he turned. Pulling you along with him with a hand on your lower back.

Jon was the only man who could silently drag you away into a dark corner in the dead of night and you wouldn’t question him in any way, shape or form. Neither of you said anything, but out of everyone Jon was the one person who you didn’t need it with. Both of you were always on the air of more quiet, and it was never more appreciated then alone with the other, never worried about having to fill the air with talking to be comfortable.

Once you had reached far enough away, Jon led you into a small building, mostly empty save for some storage and one lit lantern. Door closed, he turned to face you once more with silence. His eyes begging to say too much, but neither of you could handle it in that second. Once more you found the others arms. This time, the desperation was felt both ways.

Both of you letting your eyes shut, and your hands rest freely and yet far to intimate to be platonic as you stood together. It was minutes before he pulled back. One hand resting on your waist and the other back on your upper arm. He watched as your hands wrung together, afraid to touch him. You hated how gently he always said your name, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes.

One of you had to say something, and you ripped the bandage off first. “You’re really joining them?”

His nod was confident, and it broke your heart that much more. “The St-”

Shaking your head you felt your eyes sting, you hated feeling this way. “Don’t give me that.” Your fingers twitched wanting to reach out, and he caught the movement. “Don’t tell me what you think everyone else wants to hear.”

Was his response a diversion from the truth, or an answer you didn’t know for sure. “You’re marrying Robb.” Like no other, Jon could tell right away that you bit your tongue in anxiety. The hand on your arm moving up to gently trace over the side of your jaw until he felt you relax under the touch. “I’m not mad at you. Neither of you really had a say in it.”

Ever so slowly, you hesitantly left your hands drift forward until the very tips of your fingers rested against his stomach. Much like earlier with Robb, were you not wracked with too much in your head, you might have paused to enjoy the feeling of how sturdy and firm his muscles had grown. Instead you let your head hang, knowing he wanted you to look at him. “And you feel like The Night’s Watch is the only place you belong?”

Were you anyone else, Jon would have pulled away in frustration. But his time with you was limited, and his hands always ached to touch you when you were near. “It is now.” Head rising up to look at him, your brows narrowed. “You’ll marry him, go back to Kings Landing with my father and sisters, and leave me what? Here with the brother who gets the one thing that used to be mine, and his mother who hates me?”

Something rushed up, and an anger almost yelled out instead of reason. “Jon, I’m not trying to leave you behind.”

He sighed, jaw clenching as his hand on your waist held you a slight tighter. “No. You’re doing your duty, and I’m doing mine.”

For a while you both just stood there, looking at the other. In your heart, you felt stolen from, but your mind reasoned for the best. Just as the silence between you was too much, Jon slowly leaned in.

Your back pressed against the wall and he having moved to crowd you against it, his head dipping down enough as you exhaled shakily. The nerves in you, always managing to make him smirk. But just as you felt the others breath on your faces, a door in the distance opened. Music and laughter and the sounds of a group making drunken rackets paused Jons movement.

If it were any normal day, you’d just say not here.

But you and Jon knew better, in a few days, he would stand in the godswood and watch you marry his brother. And soon after that he would join a group that cut your love off from him for life. You couldn’t kiss now, and not ever again.

It didn’t stop either of you from seeing the other after the night was over. But with the royal company here, with you and Robb spending more time together, you only had time to see each other in the secrets of the dark. What made that much harder though, was how little suddenly anyone looked forward to a wedding.

Bran had climbed the walls and towers thousands of times with a firm grip. And yet, while climbing the one tower which no one use in decades, Bran somehow fell so far to the ground, no one yet knew if he would wake up.

And amongst all that, the Queen insisted, “We still have a wedding to put on.”

The entire family was on edge. Maester Luwin has monitored him closely, and Lady Catelyn even closer having not left his side. You didn’t blame her one bit. It was before anyone else was really awake when you went to go see her.

Slowly peeking in, asking if it was alright you come in for a moment and you were thrown back over ten years ago. Looking at your own mother, Selyse, and how broken and lost she was as Maester Cressen warned her to prepare herself for Shireen to be sent away for good.

Walking by her side, you sat gently on the bed beside Bran. It was cruel. Only a boy of ten, and with the softest, most adorable little face you’d ever seen and yet he lay in bed broken in too many ways. If he woke, he’d never walk again. You thought to yourself, maybe if you were to be a proper northern, you should start praying to the Old Gods. Because it certainly seemed like praying to the Seven had done nothing. It left your baby sister disfigured for life, and so far they seem to have left Bran a cripple should they even allow him to wake.

Laying on the other side was his yet unnamed Direwolf. Hardly more then puppies when you first arrived, you had been shocked to see how they had grown. Sitting asleep by his masters side though, you hoped he would bring little Bran any comfort.

Lady Catelyn was silent beside you, working away on something you hadn’t quite understood. You didn’t ask, you weren’t a mother and you didn’t want her to have to explain her grief to you. Your hand gently ran over Brans wrist, your thumb feeling his pulse weak but still beating if you pressed firm enough. “My sister had greyscale as a baby.”

You felt her look up at you, but your eyes were trained on the adorable boy soon to be your brother. “My father bought her a doll from a merchant, and next thing we knew it was spreading fast over the side of her face. She was just a baby she didn’t even understand what was happening to her, but we all did.”

You felt your eyes sting, but forced them back with a harsh swallow. “I’ve never heard my mother cry like that. She lost four boys in the womb, and yet that was the most I’ve ever seen her cry. And my father?” You stumbled. Voice coming out harsh, and cracked slightly from the pressure to appear steady. “People used to say the only thing that he would ever smile for is me, but they don’t understand. They didn’t see the desperation in his eyes, how far and hard he searched to bring people to Dragonstone just for a chance to save her life. And none of them saw the tears in his eyes when he was finally allowed to hold her again.”

Reaching up with your other hand you ran your hand over the side of Brans face, brushing some hair to the side. “I’m sorry. Me and Robb both tried telling them to put it off, but the Queen insisted that a wedding might do everyone some good.” She tried saying your name, but you interrupted her. “It’s okay if you don’t come. If I were a mother, I don’t think I’d leave him either.”

Looking back at her, there were tears in her eyes and a soft smile that broke your heart. Your relationship with her was always complicated, but in this moment, all you saw was what no one had given to your mother when it was Shireen.

Leaning over to her, you hugged her tightly. The pain in her heart evident in how both weak yet tightly she hugged back. Pressing a kiss to her forehead you spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Passing by the busy servants and suspiciously watchful Queen you paid no mind to the preparations that were to be for you tomorrow. At first it had felt like you and Robb were to be wed for some unknown plot of your fathers, but now it felt like a distraction.

Don’t look at the broken boy in bed, look at the happy couple. For their own pain, you had to hand it to the three of them. Lord Stark, Robb, and Jon truly what Starks were made of. Strong willed, and keeping calm acting as a pillar for the much younger and more worried siblings. Arya clearly a big influence on her direwolf Nymeria, as the wolf was agitated and struggled to sit still the past days. On multiple occasions, you found the wolf almost trying to rile up her own siblings to varying success.

Her and little Rickons direwolf Shaggydog had the most energy. As if getting out their tension by chasing and play fighting. Sansa’s Lady was truly an apt name. Stuck by her side and was poise and put together, only getting in the way to provide any comfort to the redhead in what Sansa thought were moments no one was looking.

Grey Wind was as strong headed as Robb. Their mother gone, he had taken up the mantle of leader of the pack and seemed to be a calming presence for the others. Much like how Robb’s confidence in ensuring his siblings Bran would be alright, provided such comfort to them. The more time you spend with Robb during the day, the more used to Grey Wind you got.

He grew larger then the others, a gorgeous mix of greys and browns in his colour and the more comfortable with a new closeness which Robb grew with you over the past few days, the easier it was for Grey Wind to come to your side when not with his own master. Lord Stark had joked that they seemed to sense you were about to become a wolf yourself.

It was the final direwolf however that you enjoyed the most. Pure white with striking red eyes, Ghost was smaller then the rest but quick and silent. He made very little noise if ever, but was always aware of his surroundings. Keeping out of the way without sacrificing his watchful canine eyes from their view, and listened to his master better then any of them.

Jon and Ghost it seemed, were one in the same. From the same family, but not truly one of the pack as the others were. While the others followed their master like an animal companion, Ghost and Jon were almost like friends instead. Certainly he took Jons feelings around people seriously, considering that as you sat out in the godswood while the moon set itself up in the night sky, you were suddenly almost thrown off balance.

Looking down, the small white direwolf had leaped into your lap. Leaning up to give your cheek a lick before settling in. You scratched at his back, “I don’t know what you’re asking for, but I’m getting up in about ten seconds.”

“Maybe he just likes how soft you are.” Looking up, you utterly failed to fight back both the fluster in your eyes and the embarrassed smile that you tried to hide, turning away from him.

Jon’s curls looked more wild and free again, growing out quickly from the clean cut given before your arrival. The wilder look suited him better. His cloak around his shoulders had a bright closer to white fur around him that you knew first hand was warm and comforting. Coming to sit next to you, he reached over and ran his fingers over Ghosts ear, making him shake his head with a barley audible huff at being disturbed. You both laughed gently, were it not a wolf in your lap, a commoner would mistaken you both for that of a couple with their newborn.

You were to be married tomorrow, and in two days you and Jon would part ways for what could be life for all you knew. Two days, but tonight was your last. Tomorrow you would be Lady Stark, wife of Lord Robb Stark, and there was no room in that duty for another or fairness in your heart.

Leaning against his shoulder, you knew in the eyes of the old gods there was no judgment as you rested your head there. His arm coming to pull you into his side as he looked down to you, your own trained on Ghost.

More then once you and Jon had almost kissed, it would be too easy. To fall into it again. You didn’t fall into it the first time, it was just a bond that always existed. The last time you had ever kissed, was when you came close to giving him something else.

The opportunity was right there, and no one would have been there to stop you, but neither of you were people who could so easily push past the honour you were raised with. Deep down in his mind, Jon knew you could never just marry someone like him, not for who you were. He just didn’t expect to come to the finality of it all, only months after almost having you.

Not that he told it to you, but there was a smugness in Jon that said that at least if he had one thing over Robb, or two, was that he was your first kiss. Knew what your lips tasted like, and knew what a cruelly addicted sight your bare body looked like. Though, not if he asked you, you’d say that wasn’t a perk.

Reminding Jon that he was muscle and you weren’t. Only receiving a dark, undoubtedly lustful look as he muttered that your softness is exactly what he dreams about before kissing you, having pushed you back into the furs of his own bed.

A far off moment, sitting together now, cuddled with his cloak around you against the Weirwood tree for the last time. “We never had a chance did we?” Pulling back, Jon tried looking at you with a slight question in his narrowed brows, but you just continued to run your fingers gently over the slumbering Ghost. “I mean, being with you is easy. It’s always been easy, but being together?”

Resting his chin on the top of your head, he breathed in deeply. “No. No we never had a chance.”

The truth didn’t make it hurt any less. But you weren’t children anymore. You would marry Robb, return to Kings Landing and serve on the small council at the Hand of the Kings Side, in place of your own lord father and Jon would become a man of the Night’s Watch.

In what world did those two things have a chance at crossing over?

Turning your head, you rested further into his neck and his warmth was unyieldingly comforting. “You know right? Even if I don’t say it?”

Jon had enough, moving to pull your face up to look at him by your chin. “I know. And you do too.”

Your heart skipping a beat you smiled partially, “You know it’d be a whole lot easier not to kiss you if you weren’t so handsome.”

Smirking, Jon pulled you closer. Your back more pressed against his chest as he wrapped the edges of his cloak around your front, hiding the blissfully unaware Ghost from the cold air. “Oh I’m handsome, am I?”

Rolling your eyes, you relaxed in his touch. “I’m not blind, Snow. It’s an unfair thing about you Stark men, you, Robb and your father, all way too handsome for your own good.” You had always done that. Included Jon when referring to the Starks without question. It was something that only his youngest siblings would still do, and that's just because they weren’t yet mature enough to truly understand why he was treated different.

You were though. You knew why, but you and him were always the closest even before the messy feelings of early teenage hood started to take place, and since then you were only more steady in that belief. He was a Snow, but his blood a Stark. And no matter what he called himself, he would always have the blood and integrity of his father. “Should I be worried? Marrying my brother, and running off to Kings Landing with my apparently handsome father?”

Pinching your sides, you tried elbowing him but Jon was far stronger and held you still with a laugh, your voice high and defensive. “I didn’t mean- sorry next time I’ll call your family ugly, alright?” With a pause, it slipped out before you could stop it. “Jealousy another Stark trait I should be worried about?”

You could feel the smirk still plastered across Jons face in his voice at your ear, “When the girl looks like you, any man with half a brain would be jealous of letting you go.”

It was far later then you should’ve been awake, but peeling yourselves apart for the last time was too difficult. It was quiet for a while, nothing but the quiet hums of the woods to pass the silence. His voice rasped in your ear, a small shiver down your spine at its closeness. “Where’d we meet?” He chuckled at your blatant confused face. “If we had a chance, in another life where’d we meet?”

“Are we not still us?”

You enjoyed hearing him so light and casual, it felt like I’d been months long amount of days since you’d seen such casualness. “No, well I mean I’m still me and you’re still you. But we’re not highborns, no titles or duties. Just two people somewhere in the kingdom, where’d we meet?”

Eyes squinting in thought, you considered something that was the opposite of the horrible paranoia of Kings Landing, and far from the darkness of Dragonstone. “I hear Highgarden is beautiful in the summer.”

Jon nodded against your head, “Alright. So you’re a bar maid in Highgarden, and I-”

Laughing loudly you tried pulling away, “Excuse me, why am I a barmaid? Isn’t this a fantasy?”

With such a tone of seriousness you felt light at how easily it came to him, as if it was something he’s thought of before. “Yes, and if you’re a bar maid it means I have an excuse to pull this pretty little bar maid in Highgarden down onto my lap as she passes by.”

“That’s aggressive of you.”

“Maybe this particular bar maid makes me aggressive.”

Back and forth you went, what is job was, how you’d fall in love, if you stayed in Highgarden or travelled the realm elsewhere. How many kids you’d have to which you certainly had protests as to how easily Jon kept raising the number each time he mentioned it. By the time you had planned out a new life, it was late enough that you needed to go back.

You needed some sleep, and Jon wasn’t the only brother who you wanted to talk to before this was all over.

Ghost lept out of your lap and shook his fur out on the ground as you both watched him with a fond smile. Looking back at him, you held onto his wrists and he your waist. This time, neither moved in or even tempted the idea of a kiss.

Raising a hand to cup the side of your cheek, he ran a thumb over the soft skin. “Don’t look for me in the ceremony.” Before you had a chance to spiral, he leaned down to meet your eyes more level. “I’ll be there, but don’t look for me. You’re going to be Robb’s now, and I want you to be okay with accepting that.”

Nodding, he made you promise out loud. “I promise.”

He nodded once. “You’ll be each others tomorrow, and I’ll be at the wall. I want you two to be there for each other, no matter what. Besides, it’ll be easy.” You tilted your head. “Robb’s easy to fall in love with, and I think it’s impossible not to fall at least a little in love with you.”

The hug you shared wasn’t the last before you departed, but it was the last one just for you.

He sent you off first, not wanting you to linger with him on your mind. Jon needed you to be okay with being Robb’s, and he himself, needed to just get through these next few days. He had an entire life at the wall to grieve about you.

The handmaiden was quite mad at how you ignored her. Something about the Seven, not seeing the bride but you went towards Robbs anyways. You were to be married at the Weirwood under the eyes of the old gods, it didn’t matter what the Seven wanted anymore.

Not quite dressed up, Theon looked you up and down as he opened the door. “Didn’t think you were that much of a bore.” You pushed him out the way with a roll of your eyes, he laughed as he closed the door behind him. You were glad that the northerners weren’t so dramatic.

With his mother tucked away with Bran, he escaped what would’ve been her insistence of shaving and another trim. His facial hair growing thick and his curls much more Tully Red in the daylight. “I want to ask you a favour.”

Nodding once, he said anything. Taking a step to you as you sighed out shakily, hands ringing together, he said your name as he came into your space. Looking up at him, you sighed out again. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Taken back, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. “That’s not a favour.”

Somewhat flustered, you pulled away. Sitting down on his bed, unable suddenly to send away the thoughts of the very next time you’ll be in this room. “I- I don’t want you thinking I don’t want this, or you, but we didn’t plan this, or talk about it before it happened, and now we’re here and,”

Robb knelt down to your level, not yet touching you in your panic, but speaking slow and in a low, comforting tone until the edge fell from your lips. His steady energy slightly bringing you down a little bit as you tried again. “My parents are miserable together.” Your hands started to wring together in front of you, “They barley tolerate each other, I’ve never seen any love between them. And same with my Uncle. He and the Queen basically hate each other I’m shocked they could stand each other long enough to have three kids together.”

His brows narrowed as you put it all together. “Everyone I know whose married for duty, married because they had to...I think your parents are the only ones I know who ended up happy, who actually love each other.”

Robb leaned in slightly, “Are you worried you’ll never love-”

Shaking your head you felt the anxiety in your chest boil up like never before. “Robb, look at me. I’m Stannis Baratheons child, daughter of the supposed most miserable man in Westeros in the most loveless marriage, are you sure you’re okay with marrying me?”

There it was. The first true hint of insecurity that you’ve allowed yourself to be honest with since you had been told of this arrangement. Two out of three Baratheon Lords were in miserable marriages, and when you looked at Robb, you hated the idea that you were forcing him into just another of that cycle.

The girl in you wanted to cry at losing one love, and the woman in you hated yourself for possibly dragging another into something he’d come to hate. You’ve known Robb for as long as you’ve known Jon, and you watched him grow into the man he is now. Both of you could do great things together according to Lord Stark, but what if you were too much like your father to ever inspire love?

Robb stood up, sitting down next to you as he turned his body close. Your name falling easily from his lips. “You’re not your father. No- look at me. You are not him, you’re not any of them. I’ve known you since you were eight. You’re stubborn, and strong willed and always willing to do what duty asks but that isn’t all of you. I’ve also seen you laugh, get into trouble with me more times then I can count, you care about my little sisters and my brothers like their yours too. My father already sees you like your his own, and despite everything, I know my mother does too.”

Running a hand over your hair, he watched tension in your shoulders deflate ever so slightly. “I’m not worried about marrying you, because I know what I’m getting myself into. And no one can tell me to be happy about it, but I am anyways.”

Gently you raised your hand, enough to slightly lay over the arm Robb had flat on the bed, your thumb finding this pulse, unlike little Brans, his was steady and strong. “You shouldn’t be. You get told your marrying me, and then the day after I get dragged back to Kings Landing with half your family for who knows how long.”

Your heart raced, as Robb twisted his arm, holding your wrist the same way you were his. An easy, charming, boyish smile on his lips. “And we’ll have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

Deep in your mind, you wished Robb would make this harder. You wished he wasn’t so easy to be charmed by, but you knew him too well to trick yourself into thinking he wasn’t being genuine or honest. “So about that favour...”

Narrowing his eyes, there was a flush in your cheeks that you hated was making him smirk. “What about it?”

You sheepishly tried pulling away, but he yanked you closed by is hold on your wrist. Looking down anywhere but his face you felt like a little girl again, only that time you didn’t have to be the one to ask for it, Jon kissed you before you knew what was happening.

Robb though? Oh Robb knew exactly what you were trying to ask, but was almost sadistically enjoying the process of making you say it out loud to him. You flushed more at what other implications this potential side of him would bring. “I, okay I’m not some innocent flower.”

He raised his eyebrows and you smiled indigently, “I mean, I’m still- I haven’t- shut up.” Robb was flat out laughing at that point but let you fail at getting this out with composure. “I know you’ve been with women before, physically..”

“Does that bother you?”

Shaking your head no, it was no lie. You may have to get used to the idea of being married to him, but again, you weren’t blind. You had eyes, you knew exactly what women saw in Robb Stark. “What I’m trying to say, I’ve kissed someone before but not you.”

Much more serious, Robb clearly did know what you were asking, but watched with his gorgeous comforting blue eyes intensely as you whispered. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of all of them.” His family, the royals, all those you didn’t know, the old gods, and even Jon. A first kiss in front of him felt too personal, to intimate.

Moving close, you felt his breathe on your skin. “Do you want me to kiss you? Here?”

The room slipped away though, Robb’s voice was so warm and so was he. The hand on your wrist moved to rest at your waist while the other hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. His lips would brush against yours if either spoke, but he waited for a single nod before kissing you.

His kiss was different. Soft, but coaxing. Like he knew what was holding you back, and just let you fall into it on your own. It was simple and gentle at first, but as soon as you let out a tiny sigh, something in Robb slipped for a moment. Kissing you again, harder this time. His hands tighter and his kiss a little deeper.

Leaning into his front, your hand found the back of his neck and into his curls, and your other against his chest as if they always knew what to do. It wasn’t until you let out what might just have been a small moan, Robb close to pulling you into his lap did he pull away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and running his hand once more over your hair.

“Can you live with that? For the rest of your life?”

Robb smiled softly at the very new venerability in you. Pressing one more kiss to your cheek, he knew you didn’t mean only having a kiss. But was he happy with such a kiss was your question. “Wait until tonight, I’ll tell what about you I’ve been fantasizing about living with.”

The grin on Robbs face as he pulled away wasn’t the charming boyish one earlier. No, this one was far more that of who he was really, a wolf. A wolf who looked you up and down and made you realize that Robb Stark just might not be as dashing and honourable as he’s led you to believe.

A thought that should’ve made you nervous, but as you walked back to your room, ready to let the girls doll you up and argue about not touching your hair, you started to think that maybe that wolfish grin, actually excited you.

Just when you thought you were going to die of a heart attack, your to be lord father gave you a reason to have a whole new panic. The ceremony was more fancy then any of you involved wanted, not the Starks nor you, but your own father insisted on marrying you off with the royals in toe.

He wasn’t here. Your mother neither. Both of them, Lady Catelyn and Selyse were either sickly or caring for the sick and weren’t here, but Ned Stark was. He was here, and your own father wasn’t. Stannis was not a consistently comforting father, but part of you felt hurt that he wasn’t here to see his oldest daughter, his own heir, marry for the first time.

Instead, the man who had seen you raised half your life here, the one who would be your father by marriage once this was done was the one who approached you. Looking out into the distant woods as you clearly struggled to hold your nerves back. “I didn’t think this was the thing that’d worry you so much.”

Spinning around, Lord Stark reached out to steady you with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I just...this is a lot..was it this nerve wracking when you married Catelyn?”

Not pushing you towards the woods, he stood beside you an arm around your shoulder as he rubbed your upper arm gently. “Terrifying. I’d rather face a thousand armed men then get married in front of all those people. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted someone as delightful as the Queen at mine either.” You huffed a single laugh out and swallowed the rest. “And I know I certainly wouldn’t want the person I love watch me marry someone else.”

Blood in your veins froze, your heart stopped and nothing but nausea flowed up your lungs. “I-”

He wasn’t even angry, or disappointed. He chuckled with a fondness. “I’ve seen you spend half your life here, sweet girl. Watched you grow up alongside my own sons, and I’ve watched Jon be in love with you since the first day you ever arrived.” If you cried, you’d mess up the annoying amount of makeup they insisted on, but you felt a sob in your chest. “You made him happy, and he made you happy. For a time, a long time I thought that was enough. But I also know for a fact that Jon never saw marrying you as an option. He always was painfully aware of who you were.”

You felt the stinging, and you stood still in his hold. Forcing deep breaths to push away the panic.

“There’s a good number of things I regret about how I raised him. It doesn’t feel good knowing that he’s always felt inferior to Robb and now the woman he loves is marrying him too. If I could do it again, would I even be better. Force Roberts hand harder, be more honest with Cat, let him just be a Stark and there’d be nothing in his way for you. But I didn’t do that, nor do I know if I ever should’ve.”

Looking down, your arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t want you to assume I’m just thinking of Jon while I’m with Robb, it’s not that. I’ve known Robb for just as long, and we’ve always been just as close, save for, you know.” His hand was soothing like a true fathers comfort running up and down what he could reach of your arm.

“Here’s whats going to happen. I’m going to walk you out there to my son, you’ll kneel together before the Weirwood and pray and when you rise you’ll be a Stark. Part of you will always be a Baratheon, but you’ll also be our family now. And no matter what, wolves always protect those in their pack. I’m not going to assume the worst of you, because I know you better then that. You and Robb will be good for each other, and just because losing Jon hurts doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re not willing to love Robb.”

Looking up at him you frustratingly wipe at the tears, and he pulled you into a hug. One that you hadn’t felt in a very long time. It had been too long since you felt the hug, the love of a real father. Muttering into your hair, you could feel the same smirk that you could always sense on both brothers. “Besides, I can tell you for certain, having one night with your spouse before being dragged halfway across the country will do wonders for your heart.”

You laughed a lot at that one. Pulling away he looked you over, gently wiping away the rest of the tears on your cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You have a wolf waiting for you.”

If you were being honest, it was a blur. There were so many people, and most of them you’d never want present at your wedding in any lifetime. The golden hair of the Lannisters mocked you, the bored and judgmental sneer of your cousin annoyed you, and the silent watching of an Uncle who you barley knew anymore, but you were thankful that this wasn’t in a sept.

The crowd silent, no words spoken by anyone except you and Robb. He looked tall and fierce, curls shining more red in the peeking sun through the leaves, eyes bright and blue like the sea as he looked at nothing and no one but you. The fur around his shoulders making him look large like the wolf he was said to be, and soon it too would be yours.

Whatever small words you exchanged, you heard none of it but the blood in your veins. Thankful when Robb took your hand and knelt down with you, facing away from the crowd. The Seven was what you were raised to pray too, but you were a wolf now. And the wolves answered to the Old Gods.

A fate you were perhaps always meant to have, feeling much more heard in your silence of the Weirwood then you ever did in a sept. Eyes open, looking up the carved face at the same time, the crowd was silent, Robb grabbing both your hands to stand as he kept your eyes.

Draping the very fur he wore over your shoulders, he gently pulled you in with two fingers under your chin. This kiss was far softer and fairer then the one you shared in private, but this was also all your anxiety could handle. And Robb knew it.

Were it a more jovial occasion, it was tradition for a northern groom to carry the bride to the feast but Lord Stark had the sense to give you two a moment alone and King Robert was more then happy to direct the crowd to where the wine and food sat.

Your heart racing, Robb gently held your waist with his forehead pressed to yours. Eyes both shut as your hands rested on his chest. You left tomorrow, so all you had was now and tonight.

It’s what he demanded of you, and what he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt Jon Snow a great deal to watch you marry his brother, and not once did he ever see the transfixing beauty in your eyes.

You didn’t look at him once, and Jon couldn’t get to the wall fast enough.

Truth be told, the first big laugh you had was at the sheer idea of your father here. Meals with him, there was no laughter or rambunctious behaviour. Just silence, diplomacy, and the mind numbing dings and clogs of Patchface. No joy in a meal under Stannis’s watch, except for the fool himself. Patchface there who was only lucky enough to be in a job, because gods help her, for whatever reason the fool made Shireen laugh.

You couldn’t imagine your father here. The drinking, the laughter, the never ending line of food, talk, and fun. Truth be told, you and Robb spent little time there. You glanced nervously at him more then once, and in your bubble of privacy he would rest a hand on your thigh firmly and a whisper in your ear to at least eat something.

Arya tried many times to come and talk to you, but Sansa yelled at her each time. Telling her to leave the two of you alone, the three of you girls would be in Kings Landing together anyways.

King Robert, on now one too many drinks made an innocuous comment about beds, or sex, or something vaguely incoherent and you and Robb looked to the other. You wide eyed and nervous, but there was something in his that settled it. Leaning to your ear, his voice felt like a rumble. “Normally I’m for tradition, but I’ll be damned if I let this lot see any of you like that.”

One of the men in the crowd had seen you like that, but with the way Robb looked at you, for once, Jon hadn’t crossed your mind. Too much nerves, too much wine, and a fat load of worry about being in a mans bed proper for the first time.

By the time the crowd noticed, Ned just chuckled at Roberts comments about the bride and groom slipping away before a gods honest tradition. “I told Cat I wasn’t going to let their be a bedding ceremony because I didn’t want to hurt someone on our wedding night.” Shrugging one shoulder, he grinned almost proud. “Glad to know my son’s the same.”

The worries of what was to come, ended up being broken slightly by the fact that as soon as Robb opened his door, Grey wind was sat in the middle of the bed. Large body splayed out like it was already bed time. Rising his head up at the sound of the door, you ended up bursting into laughter at Robb having to tell him twice to go.

Shutting it behind the growing direwolf, Robb shook his head something snarky on his tongue that died as he looked to you. Draped in his furs, furs that made you look far smaller and the gentle almost innocent look as you stepped around his room. You’d been in here countless times, slept in here countless times, but never like this.

Trying desperately to hold back your nerves, you looked out the open window focusing on steadying your heart. But the warmth of Robb enveloped your back as he reached over you, closing the windows and sealing you both alone. The crackling of a fire almost enough to hide the shaky breathe as Robb gently ran his hands down your arms.

Resting both on your waist, Robb wrapped one around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. He didn’t let you ruminate on the worry, dipping his head to level his mouth with your ear. “If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me.” Freezing in his arms, he spoke almost quieter but it raged so close to your ear. “We don’t have to do anything, but you need to be honest with me about it.”

You felt light on your feet. You’ve never heard this tone from Robb before, never so intimate in your ear and the deep rumblings of his voice felt as if something strong inside was being held back. The act itself scared you, it always had. But another part of you wondered if you should be fearful of the young wolf behind you, or if that fear excited you.

The arm around your stomach rose up, tilting your head to turn slightly to the side, enough that part of him was within your sight as he murmured your name. “I know you’ve never done this before, is it just that, that scares you or is it me?”

Shaking your head fervently, you startled him. “No, no it’s not you. It’s just- I should know what to expect by now but,” Taking a deep breathe you shut your eyes. “The girls in Kings Landing all talk about men and their first time like it’s painful, violent.”

Robb chuckled deeply, vibrating through his chest into your back and down between your legs. It was a dark laugh, and you felt overwhelmed at how little you really considered what he might be like. “It’s only painful if the man is a worthless, brute who thinks getting off is better then getting their lady off.”

Was your chest heaving with you hard you felt yourself breathing, your eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted you felt more waves between your legs and having it all be because of Robb was more then enough to leave you speechless. Reading your body like a book, Robb leaned down more, brushing his lips against your neck. Grinning at the sigh you unknowingly let out.

Turning slightly more you could see him a bit better. “Will it hurt?”

Smiling like a predator, he pulled you closer to him. “Only if you want it to.” Laughing at your breathless expression, asking why some women would want it to hurt. He moved a hand to your hip and pressed his lips closer to your jaw. “Don’t worry. If you want it, we’ll get there. Tonight’s not about that though.”

Suddenly pulling away he yanked his cloak enough that it slipped from your shoulders and pooled onto the ground. Turning you in his arms, Robb gripped the sides of your dress tightly in his fists before pulling it up and off you. The fact that you let him do that, not telling him how little you had on underneath might have been a dangerous idea.

Usually such a dress was worn with layers underneath, and yet, all that remained on you was that which covered your most lower regions. Your softness, plush skin, and tits all on display. Holding your hips, Robb closed his eyes breathing deep for a moment. “For a girl whose never done this before, this is awfully naughty of you.”

Indeed was the charming boy no longer here, but a man, a wolf looking at his mate like prey.

Swallowing the pounding in your heart, you reached up to Robb, slowly pulling layers up and off of him for yourself. His hands were much more confident then yours were currently, but he stood still watching and letting you undress him at your own pace.

Staring was impolite, and yet Robb didn’t mind as you looked at his chest now totally free. Just as your fingers reached for his pants he snatched your hands. Raising them in the air as you gasped in surprise.

“This is about you. Lay down for me.”

Watching you with dark eyes, you couldn’t ignore how intensely he looked you up and down as you lay back on the top of his bed. Your palms bracing you up before being tossed back down as Robb suddenly climbed up the bed and over top of you. A hand on each side of your head as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Do you trust me?”

Without even considering it, you answered the raw truth. “Always.”

One hand reached up, grabbing your jaw roughly as he pulled your lips back to his. This time he kissed you nothing like before. His kiss was rough, demanding and deep. Guiding your every move and commanding that you obey. He tugged your hip with his other hand up to press into his own and as you gasped, he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Lightheaded, you surrendered to his touch. As if all will of your own bled out onto the bed leaving nothing but Robb to command you as he pleases, and yet the idea didn’t scare you the way it was described by others. Your hands reached up and grasped his waist, a small sound leaving your mouth into his.

Switching between tasting you with his tongue and biting at your lips it, Robb let go of your jaw and ran it behind your head and grasped your hair tightly. Pressing his body down firmly, his hips naturally rutted into yours. He smirked as you gasped.

The rougher he kissed you, the more your hands moved on their own. Reaching behind his neck and wrapping around it to sink into his hair he ground his hips into you harder. A gentle moan leaving you, Robb left your lips, running the same ferocity down your neck. His lips and teeth no doubt leaving marks that a proper lady should be ashamed of.

He didn’t quite stop, kissing down your neck more until he reached your breasts. Grinning at how hard you were breathing, he stopped that right in it’s tracks as his hands cupped your chest. A needy cry left your lips, turning to a longer moan as Robb ran this thumbs over your nipples. Just as one hand grasped one, did he lower his mouth to bite at the other.

Pleasure shooting through you, your back arched into his body and limbs felt like they seized from the pleasure. His teeth switching between a gentle nibble and a harsher bite just to pull a gasp from you, he played you like an instrument. Getting every sound from your pretty lips that made his cock that much harder.

Pulling away, he hovered over you looking down at the almost in awe expression. You weren’t used to such a side to this man, and he seemed to reveal in your innocence over it. Leaning back more, you followed the sight of his dark eyes, parted lips and down his chest to where he hands slowly pulled at his pants.

Swallowing hard, he tilted your head up his a hand firmly at your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me.” Not letting you look down as he stripped himself bare. “Good girl, keep them on me and only me.” Slowly moving down the bed he pulled your hips to, grabbing your underwear and pulling them down.

The coolness of outside did nothing to take away how warm and wet you were between your legs, and Robb forced you to stay on his face. Making you look at his eyes, greedily pushing your knees apart and expression turning dark as he stared at you. A slightly whimper leaving you, he leaned back over you, one hand running over your thigh, first on the outside, then inside, and slowly upwards.

Just as he reached you, Robb bit at your bottom lip. Using the chance to slip his tongue inside you just as he ran his hand over you. Cupping you entirely and already he smirked into the kiss at how soaked you were. Lips brushing yours as he pulled back enough to speak, his fingers gently running back and forth across your soaked slit. “Good girls don’t get this wet, do they?”

Shaking your head no, all you could do was hear his voice. Eye slipping closed as your legs shook and a coil within you twisted at such an easy touch. Robb continued. “No, good girls are sweet and innocent. This doesn’t feel very innocent to me.” Two fingers now soaked danced up and ran across your clit.

Jumping at the shock of pleasure, you grasped him by the shoulders with a whine. “It’s all for you-”

Stammering the words out as Robb now rubbed tight circles against your clit. Your muscles tensing and his own hips refusing to let you close them you had to just take it. His other fingers still soaking up whatever you drenched him with. “I know it is. You ready for me to open you up? Make you cum before you take me?”

You’d say yes to pretty much anything Robb asked of you right now. Nodding, you leaned up to kiss him, making him smile into your lips as he slipped two soaked fingers deep inside to his knuckles. You gasped so loudly, were the windows not closed no doubt the outside world would’ve heard you. Sinking them deep in one go, you writhed in his touch.

Robb slowly slid them out and back, the wetness between you making the sound obscene, but it was the only music Robb could stand to hear. He never picked up the pace, but he did, right as you tensed in his touch? Stopped rubbing at your clit, and slit a third finger down to sink inside you with the others.

You cried his name and he kissed down your neck as he slowly pumped them inside of you. Clenching around his fingers he bit your skin harder trying to force his cock to shut up. Screaming at him like a howling wolf to just take you already.

Pulling back from your lips he looked you in the eye, feeling you clench around him as your sounds grew higher. Something burned hot inside of you as the other twisted and turned so tightly. One free hand, Robb ran over your lips, and something sweet inside you, pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers as he did so.

In return? He ran his thumb roughly over your clit as pumped his fingers slow and deep into you as you came around them. You moaned his name, but muffled it as Robb gently sunk two fingers into your mouth at the same time. One hand grasped his wrist, and yet even as you came something inside you obeyed like you were a submitting prey.

Robb almost snarled at how well you sucked on his fingers, and how he wished you two had more time then tonight. He couldn’t stop the thought of how beautiful you would look on your knees before him, obediently sucking on his cock with his hand guiding you up and down his length tight in your hair.

Pulling out of you Robb pulled your body up to press against his bare one and kissed you full of tongue and a greedy desperation. A desperation you yearned for back. It was a strained rasp of your own in his ear that had him shudder. “Please, Robb. Please fuck me.”

It didn’t even occur to you to try and be sweet or innocent about it. You could feel his cock pressing against you between your still shaking legs and you felt lightheaded at how thick it felt against you. Kissing your ear, he murmured much more gentle, “Are you sure?” As you nodded he bit your earlobe and hissed into it. “Out loud.”

Nodding again, your hands wrapped around his neck as you kissed him. “I’m sure, I want you.”

Kneeling up on the bed, Robb ran his hand gently down the side of your body. His dark eyes soft for just a little while longer, as you felt something in your chest at him. Pulling your hips more up into his lap you think you understood why he kept his eyes on you.

His chest led down to coarse, rough hair surrounding a long, thick cock that you wondered if it would even fully fit in your hand. Your chest heaved as you stared, and he slipped into a deeper tone. “It’s not polite to stare.”

Slipping a hand behind your head, Robb kept you looking down, watching as he ran the tip of his cock over your entrance, up brushing against your clit and back down. Barley sliding in each time until you begged his name once more. This time Robb watched your eyes, as he kept your head looking down to watch him slide his cock inside you.

He was thick, and the stretch itself stung in a way that made you gasp but not a pain that you had feared from it. No, the deeper he sunk the more you soaked his cock. Only halfway in, Robb tugged your hair to look up at him before he in a much more punishing thrust, bottomed out.

His face snarled at how tight, how warm and soaking wet you cunt was and he pulled you right back into an equally as rough kiss. He didn’t go fast, but part of him reasoned to go more gentle, and yet?

Your cries, your begs of his name as each slow, rough fuck had your arching your back into his body all the more. Each pound of his cock inside of you slapped loudly in a way that had him grip your hips so tight, you could already feel the bruises.

Sweat built up on both your bodies and you ran your hand through his own increasingly damp curls, scratching his scalp with your nails that had him fuck into you harder each time. For all his talk, little thoughts came to his mind as Robb fucked you.

Like something of an animal took over and all he could think of was how much he wanted to fuck you more, harder, faster, fill you until his cum spilled out of you and then fill you more. You cried out, nails scratching down his back without even realizing you were doing so, but muffling each sound as you bit into the meat of his shoulder. Robb, fucked you harder and struggled to stay slow.

You clenched tightly, enough that he had to pound into your cunt roughly just to sink as deep as he could inside and pulling away enough he could see tears at the side of your eyes but you rather then begging for mercy, begged for more as you kissed him.

His hands held your knees, pushing as wide as possible as Robb lost composure. Fucking you faster and just as one hand moved to rub at your clit you came around him. Robb leaving your other knee to press his hand against your mouth at how little you could contain your cries.

Fucking into you once, twice, five more times he pushed inside as deep as he could sink and filled you with him. His cum warm and thick, it felt like there was so much more of it then a normal man would have but you let Robb pull you into another kiss, this one rough and sloppy as he filled you with his cum as his tongue did your mouth.

Never leaving, his hands eventually turned soothing, his kiss softer and his voice not commanding but assuring. Telling you how good you did, how perfect you were. Holding you in his arms and him yours, it was just the two of you in that moment and nothing more.

It was only when you started to laugh, did Robb laugh. Yanking you into his chest as he flopped onto his back with you on top of him. Kissing you gently as he ran a hand over your hair. “Aye, a man could get used to this.”

He should’ve let you rest, but he took you once more that night. This time, far less able to hold back how fast and greedy he wanted to be about fucking you. The only downside, was how exhausted the night made you.

Slipping into a deep sleep, that only meant morning would come quicker. And too quick it did.

That morning, you both stayed in bed as long as you could. Robbs back against the wall and you against his chest, far less worried about the lack of clothes either of you still had. “You were born for this, Robb. It’s not in you to fail.”

Kissing the side of your head, things were feeling a bit easier, a bit more normal between you even in such an intimate manner. “Everyone says that right up until they fail.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned. Leaving his grasp to gently face him, your body in his lap. Hands on his chest, your eyes often trailed over him. He didn’t question your gaze, you had to get used to him as much as he was getting used to you. It was still new, no matter how much a decade and a half of friendship had formed the foundation.

No joke was in your face though. “I’m serious, Robb. Even if you don’t believe in yourself?” Shrugging one shoulder you smiled softly, “I’m your wife now, so I’ll just do all the believing for you.”

Squeezing your hip, he rolled his own eyes. “And let you do all the work? We’re a team, remember?”

Saying goodbye to Robb however, was easier then what waited for you outside.

Packing up your hose, you heard the two of them in the distance. “My mother?”

“She was very kind.” You tensed slightly, hoping no one noticed but you very much doubted kind was the genuine word Jon should be using. He didn’t deserve her ire, not now, not ever.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.”

“It was always my colour.”

Your eyes closed, trying to tune their goodbye out. You had no right to invade their privacy.

Part of you hoped he would ignore you. You wouldn’t have to handle this and you could ignore it, but Jon knew you way better then that. You’d hate yourself if you left it at this. Reaching over you, Jon pulled part of your things up and secured it without even saying a word. Looking up, he was closer then you thought.

Looking at each other, the responsible thing would be to nod, shake hands, say a cordial goodbye. But Jon stood with his bright eyes, a grey so deep they looked black at times and you wanted to cry. You felt pathetic for being hardly able to hold back such a display of emotions, but the love that Jon had looked at you with for so many years was as strong as it always was.

You had no doubt that you looked just the same.

Jon pulled you into a hug, one too tight and too emotional for the company around and yet neither of you cared. Neither of you knew if this would be the last time, and both of you resented the world for forcing that as a possibility. His hand held you to him from the back of your head as you sunk your face partway into his neck and the other into the fur around him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.”

Already, even in the others arms, the grieving already begun. Pulling back, you held at his shoulders and he shamelessly cupped the side of your cheeks. “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

You burst into a laugh, one bordering too close on a cry. But you tilted your head. “Now or never, Snow.”

The kiss was pressed to your cheek, slow and unrushed before hugging you once more. For too many years you and Jon ignored the inevitability of having to separate like this, and it sat deep and uncomfortable in your stomach to do so. Like leaving the other behind would be a mistake in the long run, but you couldn’t understand why your soul screamed at you to not make it. You knelt down, kissing Ghost on the forehead as he licked at your cheek, whispering to him. “Protect him, no matter what you hear me? Next time I see him, you better make sure he’s as healthy as you are now.”

Seeing the other Starks approaching, you two looked at the other one last time so close you could feel the other. You took off with the company as they all headed out to the Kingsroad, giving enough space for Lord Stark to speak to his son alone before they too parted ways.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about, but you knew Jon Snow better then anyone to guess. As his father turned to leave, you and Jon looked from the distance at the other once more. You said nothing and neither did he. His life was up north now, and yours is both by Lord Stark’s side and your future with your husband. A future you wanted, and one Jon didn’t want to get in the way of. But as you both rode off in opposite directions, that sinking feeling in your gut just screamed louder, the further away you both got.

Neither of you having any idea, what horrors would bring you two back to one another.

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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Is It Over Now?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: Was it over when she laid down on your couch? Was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse?

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Spicy content ahead but no smut

Here's the masterlist containing the other drabbles in the series!

I didn't write the full smut scene because I was worried it would be less of a drabble and more of a full chapter. If y'all want the full smut scene let me know!

You aren't how Aemond remembers you at all when he runs into you after your arrival. He's in the courtyard, practicing his swordsmanship with Ser Criston and who should walk up but your bastard brothers. They're accompanied by their father, you trailing behind the three men listlessly... bored even. You're eyes flicker about, taking in the sights of the castle you'd hoped to never see again. There's no joy in your gaze. Not anymore. Aemond isn't sure if he should be worried.

When you finally spare a glance at him he's struck by just how different you look. No longer a gangly, awkward princess, you stand in front of him with the body of a woman. All soft curves and delicate Valeryian features. His eyes linger on your hips and tits, and he decides those might be your best features if it weren't for the gentle slope of your lips as you say his name.

Aemond drops his sword immediately, the taunts of his nephews forgotten the second he hears your voice. He lifts your hand to his mouth as he bows, grazing his lips over your knuckles.

"Princess," Aemond says in greeting.

You pull your hand back, fisting it in the silk of your red dress. "Aemond. Have you seen your brother lately? I've been searching for him."

Why? he wants to demand. Why do you want that drunkard when I'm right here? He's probably off picking up some disease on the Street of Silk as we speak.

Instead, he says, "I'm afraid not, Princess."

"Hmm, pity." You look him up and down. "I'll be off then. Lovely to see you, Uncle. Boys," you give Jace and Luke a pointed glare. "Be good."

Aemond wants to stop you, wants to make you turn around and stay by his side, but he can't find the words. Instead, he takes his frustration out on your brothers by way of sparring before taking his own leave and hunting down the serving girl who has been your stand in for months now.

You, on the other hand, search the Red Keep for Aegon. You've already seen and spent time with Helaena, fawning over her and her children even if the reunion was a bit stiff and awkward. You like Helaena, love her even. She's by far the sweetest person you've ever met. How she's lasted in a marriage to Aegon, you'll never know.

He wrote you letters while you were at Dragonstone. As did Aemond. You answered Aegon more often, though. Maybe it was out of some strange, misplaced sense of loyalty that you did so. Aegon was supposed to be your husband after all. Even with his many, many, many... personality defects... you still feel closest to him after all these years.

"Oh, excuse me!" You stop a young serving girl who is in the middle of leaving what you remember to be Aemond's chambers. She's a pretty blonde with a kind smile. "Have you seen Prince Aegon?"

She shakes her head. "No, your highness, I'm sorry. I... I thought I saw the Queen going in his chambers earlier."

You nod. "Thank you..."

"Emma, your highness." She curtsies and looks to the ground.

"Emma. Thank you." You walk further down the hall, counting doors until you come to what you know to be Aegon's chambers.

The décor around the Red Keep has changed immensely since you've been gone. Many of the more obscene tapestries that imprinted themselves in your young mind are gone, replaced with religious imagery of the Seven. You can only imagine the fit Daemon is throwing over the change. Honestly, you don't really feel one way or another about it as long as it was your grandfather's decision, but a large part of you knows it was likely Alicent's doing.

Speaking of, the Queen exits Aegon's chambers right as you're about to announce yourself. She gives you no more than a tight lipped smile, exhaustion and disappointment dimming her eyes.

You cautiously make your way inside. "What was that about?"

Aegon sits on his bed with his head in his hands, a simple white sheet covering his lap. He perks up when he hears your voice and you can't help but return his boyish grin. "Nothing. Something about some serving girl I don't even remember."

"I don't believe you."

"Good. You shouldn't. I'm a bad, bad man."

You pour yourself some wine from the pitcher on his bedside table. "Self deprecation doesn't suit you."

"Who said it was self deprecation? I hurt everyone around me." Aegon sighs and leans back in bed, patting the empty spot beside him.

You know better than to get in Aegon's bed, but he just looks so pathetic. And maybe that's why you favor him so much. You have a soft spot for sad, broken, pathetic things. Aegon knows this. Just as you know he plays on your feelings. What you can't figure out is why you allow it. If anyone else were to treat you the way Aegon does you would feed them to Vermithor... and yet your uncle is allowed to do as he pleases with your heart.

"Remember the game we would play when we were betrothed?" Aegon bunches your skirt in his fist, dragging it up your thigh slowly. The silk tickles against your bare skin.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes."

"Care to play again, niece?"

Aegon is allowed to do as he pleases with your heart just as he is allowed to do as he pleases with your body.

"Yes." The word comes out in an almost whimper and Aegon's smile turns predatory.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, my prince."

Aegon pushes the blanket from his lap and pulls you down on top of him. There's the sound of your dress ripping and Aegon's moan of pleasure.

"Good girl," he whispers in your ear. "You've always been my good girl."

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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"Ménage à Trois" - Frat!Cregan Stark x Bimbo!Reader x Frat!Jacaerys Velaryon

Summary: Cregan and Jace are beyond excited when they learn that you and your boyfriend have broken up and that you're attending their frat's party.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, double penetration, p in v sex, anal sex, ass eating, tiddy succin, fingering, overstim, dumbification, praise kink, creampie, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,000 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

From the moment uni started, Cregan and Jace have been inseparable. The two rushed Alpha Sigma Theta together, played on Winterfell University’s rugby team together, and became more like brothers than best friends. They had so much in common that it was almost uncanny.

However, the one thing they had in common that threatened to drive them apart? Their mutual crush on you.

Ever since freshman year, both of them have had the hots for you. However, you were still dating your high school boyfriend, Jake Lannister, who went to uni all the way in Casterly Rock. They told themselves back in their first year that the relationship would end, but it continued for the majority of their time at WU, frustrating them. You were always so sweet to them, if not a bit on the ditzy side. The cutest girl they’d ever seen, always dressed head to toe in pink, a sweet lipgloss-coated smile on your face. And don’t even get them started on that body of yours. Seeing you working out at the campus gym in those tight little yoga pants and sports bras? It’s embarrassing how long they talk about it after the fact.

Senior year, however, everything changes. You come back to uni like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Jace approaches Cregan with a massive grin on his face, a spring in his step as he walks away from the communications lecture he has with you.

“What’s up?” Cregan asks, glancing up from his phone, curious as to what has his best friend grinning like a fool.

“She’s single.”

“Who’s single?”

“Don’t play dumb, Creg. She’s single.”

Cregan’s jaw drops, his phone nearly slipping out of his hand before he catches it in time, “You’re kidding, right? She and that Lannister guy broke up?”

“Yep,” Jace smirks, “She is completely single. And I invited her to the party at Alpha tonight.”

Cregan and Jace, being seniors now, are the presidents of the fraternity, the most sought-after guys in school. But right now?

You’re the only one on their mind.

It’s a tiki themed party, stupid and cliche, but they don’t give a fuck. Alpha hosts the best parties on campus and they can’t wait to see how you look when you show up in your own hula skirt and coconut bra. It’s a dress code requirement, while the guys are required to only wear boardshorts, a less than subtle way for the two of them to show off their washboard abs.

“You’re sure she’s coming?” Cregan questions from behind the tiki bar as he mixes a drink for one of their fraternity brothers who’s probably had a bit too much already, “Or are you just getting my hopes up for no good reason?”

“No, dude, I swear she’s coming,” Jace says, bouncing up and down on his feet like an energetic puppy, brushing a strand of brown curls off of his face, “She seemed like, really fuckin’ stoked about it too. Said she didn’t do much partying earlier because of being in a relationship and shit.”

“Shit,” Cregan laughs, “Alright. But, uh, how are we gonna play this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we both like her, you fucking idiot.”

Jace blanches, his face draining of blood, “Oh. I, um, I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Do you ever?”

“Bro, suck my dick!”

“You suck my dick!”

The two of them are cut off by the sound of a soft giggle, looking up only to see you, dressed in your Polynesian best, that coconut bra showing off your tits in the most delicious of ways, your grass skirt hanging low on your waist, revealing your belly button ring. You picked a pink skirt, how much more adorable can you get?

Before Cregan can even react, Jace is practically leaping over the table to pull you into a hug that’s a little more than friendly, barely able to restrain himself from grinding his hard-on against you when his body is pressed against yours. Cregan moves around to embrace you next, towering over you as he tucks you beneath his chin in a hug.

“You two tending the bar all night or are you gonna dance with me?”

You have a mischievous glint in your eyes as you look at them, hands on your hips.

Jace immediately drags you toward the dance floor, Cregan following after the two of you. The bass is pounding, the dance floor is hot and sweaty as you face Cregan, Jace at your backside. Cregan moves to rest his hands on your hips, groaning slightly as you grind up against him while Jace rolls his hips against your back.

Promiscuous girl, wherever you are

I’m all alone and it’s you that I want

Cregan is taken by surprise when you move to pull him in closer, your hands threading through his hair as you kiss his lips, your own tasting of sugar and strawberries, no doubt the effect of your lipgloss, as your tongues meet in a sordid dance, the kiss being nowhere near PG-13. You moan against his mouth while Jace watches on hungrily, Cregan’s fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he grinds against you. When you break the kiss, you lean back, your head resting against Jace as you kiss him next. His breath catches in his throat at the way you move your ass up against his hard-on and part of him fears that he might just cum in his pants from this, but he manages to hold himself together, kissing you back, hands caressing your stomach, loving the way you shiver against him.

“You know,” you say when you finally break apart, glancing between the two boys, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anybody except Jake. And both of you are just so cute, I can’t pick.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” Cregan murmurs, moving to kiss your neck while Jace’s lips press to the other side, “Do you wanna come upstairs with us?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, “I do.”

Excitement stirs in your stomach as you follow Jace up the stairs, Cregan moving behind you. Truth be told, you’ve been attracted to the pair of them ever since uni started, it’s just being with Jake, you were never able to do anything about it. But here you are, heading up to Cregan’s room in the frat house. The door closes with a click behind you and immediately, both of the boys are pressed up against you, the three of you moving toward the bed. Cregan is at your back now, Jace at your front as he undoes your coconut bra, letting out a low groan of delight as your tits spill free of their confines, immediately moving to squeeze at them while Cregan makes quick work of your hula skirt. You grind your ass against Cregan as his fingers move to stroke your pussy, lips pressed to your neck. Jace moans, mouthing at your tits as you palm his surprisingly large cock over the fabric of his boardshorts.

“How do you want us, pretty girl?” Cregan murmurs in your ear, nipping at your skin, loving the little mewl of surprise you let out, “Hm?”

“Want you,” you moan as Jace begins suckling at one of your nipples while Cregan’s fingers rub against your clit, “Jace in my pussy and you in my ass.”

Jace snickers, moving to kiss your lips, his own hot and wet against yours, before he whispers, “Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little pussy while Creg takes you from behind? We can do that for you, baby. Can’t we, Creg?”

“Whatever our little princess wants,” Cregan says, his voice a low rumble in his chest as his fingers continue deftly circling your clit, pinching at it gently, making you cry out his name as you soak his fingers with the evidence of your arousal.

Jace pulls you to lay on top of him, straddling him as he pushes the waistband of his boardshorts down, making your jaw drop at how long and thick he is. You feel the blood rush to your face at the way he smirks at you, the cocky undertone to his voice as he coos, almost mockingly.

“Aw, baby, your ex’s dick wasn’t this big, huh?” You shake your head, eyes still slightly wide with surprise, your mouth watering at the thought of having that inside you, “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’ll take it slow.”

You gasp as you feel Cregan’s tongue moving against your puckered hole while Jace begins pumping one then two fingers in and out of your cunt, the sensation of both being pleasured at once being almost too much for you. Jace continues caressing your breasts with his free hand, kissing them sloppily, while Cregan’s tongue moves in and out of you with ease, wanting to prepare you for his cock. Your thighs tremble at the sheer amount of stimulation and it takes little time for the coil in your stomach to snap, prompting you to bury your face in Jace’s neck as you cry out Cregan’s name.

Jace presses his lips against yours while you feel Cregan’s lips at the nape of your neck, the tip of his cock teasing your puckered hole as he gets ready to fuck you. You take Jace first, sinking down onto his girthy length with a near sob of his name, feeling more full than you ever have before. He stretches you out almost painfully but not quite, the sting giving way to mind-blowing pleasure sooner than later.

Cregan chuckles as he slowly pushes inside you, making you moan, your head falling back against his chest as his hands move to squeeze your tits, pinching at your nipples, “You look so pretty like this, sweetheart. Taking us like a good little princess.”

“Fuck, Cregan,” you whimper, “Jace…”

Jace grabs you by the hips and begins rutting up against you, sweat matting those chocolate curls to his forehead while Cregan moves at a slightly slower pace, feeling how tight you are around him. They move in and out of you, filling you over and over, Jace sitting up to press his lips to yours once more. This is everything you could have ever dreamed of, being sandwiched between the two of them as they fuck you. Your mind is devoid of any thoughts except them and the pleasure they’re giving you.

“Look at our pretty girl,” Cregan murmurs, “Taking our cocks so well, such a perfect little ass, perfect pussy.”

“She’s too fucked out to even think,” Jace snickers, his cock hitting that spot inside of you that sends you reeling, “Aw, yeah, I’m almost tearing you apart, huh, pretty girl? I think you can take it, can’t you? Use your words for me.”

“I can take it,” you barely manage to eke out, reaching your peak, soaking Jace’s cock, but the two of them just keep going, your overstimulated body and pleasure-addled mind almost at its breaking point, “Oh my gods…”

“Yeah, such a perfect body just for us,” Cregan growls against your ear, his hips beginning to stutter, his balls tightening as he feels you squeezing around him, “You can give us another one, baby.”

“Just. Like. That,” Jace grunts, punctuating each word with a thrust, letting out a moan as he spills himself inside you, the image of his cum leaking out of your cunt burned in his mind forever, a satisfied grin on his face as you brace yourself against his chest, Cregan reaching his own end soon after while you?

You reach your third? Fourth? Fifth climax of the night? What is it? You’re too fucked out to think as Cregan cuddles you, Jace moving away to get you a glass of water and a towel, cleaning you off.

You fall asleep, tucked between the two of them, their lips ghosting along your skin, the promise of another ménage à trois in the air.

1K notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 4 months

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the great war | aemond targaryen (part two)

Haven't read part 1? click here

Summary: The night Aemond Targaryen visits Storm's End, he loses everything.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Show spoilers, cursing, a fun family dinner, the word bastard again, Rhaenyra getting called a misogynistic word, reader has beef with Aegon, Aemond being mean, reader being a protective older sister, angsty angst, mentions of blood, and death

Word Count: 7.8k words.

Notes: I'm so glad you guys loved part 1! To be honest, I was so nervous to publish the first part because I'm a person who is never satisfied with my writing due to my perfectionist tendencies. This is longer than part 1, I got a bit carried away and didn't want to publish a third part. This is sad, you all know what's coming. Hopefully, I did the ending justice, I'm literally already hating it. Also sorry for doing y'all like that LMAO. This hasn't been proofread so excuse any mistakes! I tagged those who asked me in the comments!

Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy!

Aemond loved you, he really did, but he also hated your brothers.

He tried to keep his cool for your sake, faking smiles that hurt his cheeks and uttering kind words that left a bad taste in his mouth on the rare occasion that your family was around.

But Lucerys had taken something from him that could never be replaced.

His injury might've healed, the scars no longer red and tender, but the pain was still there. Fresh and raw, always gnawing away at his heart and sanity. He remembers the stares he received after the incident – he could still feel the pity from those around the castle, the whispers from Lords who visited on business, and the poorly masked looks of disgust from their wives and daughters.

Aemond hated it. He hated how everyone seemed to think he was a fragile and unfortunate thing just because he had lost an eye. He had the biggest dragon in all of Westeros for God's sake!

So as time passed he learned to build walls around himself for protection. He no longer hid behind his mother's skirts nor did he cower away in fear. He began to spend his time in the training yard with Sir Criston.

At first, it was hard. His coordination wasn't the same due to his lost eye but Aemond didn't give up. He trained hard, harder than his brother who preferred to spend his time with his nose buried between the thighs of whores and bottles of wine.

Soon enough Aemond was no longer the boy who got pushed around. He wore his eyepatch with pride, glaring and proving those who underestimated him wrong.

When he married you, he was worried you would not only hate him but also find him disgusting or at least be scared of him. But you proved him wrong. You told him how beautiful he was, kissed the scars around his eye, and showered him with love.

That was all it took for his walls to come crumbling down, allowing you to worm your way inside and cement your claim.

So yes, Aemond did love you but that wasn't enough to forgive your brothers for what they did to him.

You were seated next to him at the dinner table, chatting with Helaena and occasionally giggling at the poorly made jokes your brother Luke threw your way. He loved the sound of your laugh and could listen to it on repeat for hours, but at that very moment, he wanted nothing more than to bang his head against the table.

He refrained from doing so knowing you would scold him for it and his mother would glare until she became cross-eyed.

Viserys had called for a family dinner the same night after the shitshow that was the presentation. Aemond had promised that no one would be angry with you if you skipped it but you were feeling much better.

Besides, you yearned to finally have dinner with both sides of your family.

You couldn't remember the last time something like this happened.

Your grandfather had held a toast, congratulating your siblings for their betrothals before he turned to you and Aemond, a smile on his gravely ill face.

"And to my only granddaughter. I have had the pleasure of watching you turn from a little girl to a woman grown. You remind me so much of your mother," Rhaenyra sniffed at this, a smile on her face as she looked between you and her father. You had a smile on your own face, cheeks warm due to the attention you were receiving. Aemond set a hand on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze as he fought down a smile.

"It saddens my heart that Aemma isn't here to witness this. She would've loved her grandchildren" The side of your table tensed a bit at the mention of your late grandmother and you felt Otto's heated gaze on the side of your face which you ignored.

Daemon snorted at the expression Alicent was attempting to shield.

Viserys was none the wiser as he continued his speech." I hope you and Aemond live a long life full of love and children" He finished addressing you with a breathless chuckle and you softly thanked him with a bow of your head.

The king slowly reached up and took off the mask, revealing his empty eye socket and disfigured cheek.

You gulped, eyes averting from his face.

It wasn't a pleasant sight like Aemond's. The skin on the right side of your grandfather's face was rotting off, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. If you squint hard enough from your seat you would be able to see the inside of his mouth.

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided" He wheezed out, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. "But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly"

I wish, you thought. The divide between your families ran deep, not even yours and Aemond's marriage could mend it.

No one spoke for a bit after he was finished. Until your mother stood, cup raised.

"I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife" Alicent was slightly taken aback as she stared up at your mother with an unreadable expression.

You knew of their history, your mother had told you. Best friends who fell off each other's graces after Alicent married your grandfather and became Queen, filling your mother with a feeling of betrayal.

You couldn't even attempt to imagine how that would feel.

"She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude and my apology" Rhaenyra finished and sat back down. Everyone stared at the Queen expectantly, waiting for her response.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess" Alicent finally said, eyes darting around the room before falling back to your mother who was now looking at her with an unreadable expression of her own. "We are both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow" The Queen continued before standing up, her chair dragging back a bit at the force.

"I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen"

You noticed your mother trying to hide her smile as you made a move to grab your cup just as everyone else did. You took a sip of the sweet wine and softly hummed in contentment as the warm after-effects of the alcohol kicked in.

Aemond did the same with his free hand as his other was still resting on your thigh. He gave it another squeeze and you turned your attention to him, confusion written on your features as you wondered if he had something to say to you.

"I love you," He whispered loud enough for you to hear and you couldn't help but break out in a grin. "I love you too" You answered, quickly leaning forward and planting a kiss on his cheek.

His face grew hot at the action and he quickly scanned the table to see if anyone was looking but thankfully everyone had returned to their separate conversations. His attention turned back to you but you had already turned to listen to Helaena who was happily informing you about the new bugs she had found while out in the yard earlier.

You were nodding along, demonstrating you were listening, when your gaze fell on Aegon who was standing in between Jace and Baela, whispering something that was clearly no good considering Jace's jaw clenched in response.

On instinct, you turned to look at Aemond, eyes pleading for him to do something but your twin brother was faster. Jace's fists slammed on the table, startling everyone else from their conversations.

You could see he was trying to reign in his anger. Next, you felt Aemond stand and you turned to look up at him, eyes wide as he stared at your brother with a look you didn't like.

It's as if he were challenging him, daring him to do whatever it was he was thinking.

Jacaerys was staring right back at him with the same expression but when he met your eyes – pleading – he settled on softly punching Aegon's shoulder in an attempt to appear playful before grabbing his cup and raising it in the air.

"To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, as his eyes roamed, hope we may yet be friends and allies" Jace toasted, his smile forced as he turned to look at everyone at the table, observing him quietly.

Aemond was still standing, watching him like a hawk. You tried your best to discreetly reach up and grab his hand, tugging at it so he would sit but he ignored it.

"And you Uncle," Your brother was back to staring at your husband, cup pointed in his direction this time. "You have been married to my sweet little sister," You softly groaned. "You're older by an hour!" You interrupted with a whine and Jace stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

This earned a few chuckles from your family and weak grandfather. The Greens, except Helena who grinned, didn't budge.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Jace rolled his eyes playfully and you huffed, pout still on your lips. "You have been married to my twin, the person I shared a womb with and came into this world with, the person I have had the pleasure of annoying for eighteen years straight – for over a year now. I see how happy you have made her and for that, I sincerely thank you" Jace's eyes left Aemond's stoic frame before turning to you, a genuine smile on his lips this time.

Your pout was replaced with a smile of your own, heart fluttering at your brother's words. Aemond remained silent, gaze still calculating before he tilted his head in acknowledgment toward Jacaerys.

"To you and your family's good health, dear uncles" Jace finished before taking a swing from his cup. He delivered a final punch to Aegon's shoulder before sitting back down.

You could practically see the annoyance rolling off of your eldest uncle as he accepted your brother's words, "To you as well"

Aemond finally took his seat and you turned to give him a pointed look, which he tried his best to ignore, suddenly interested in the cutlery laid in front of him.

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena!" Helaena announced, abruptly standing up with a cup in her hand as well. All eyes were drawn to her, waiting to see where this was going. "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you..." You frowned at her words, saddened by her fate. "Except sometimes when he's drunk" She innocently added, earning a cackle from your stepfather from the other end of the table.

Aegon looked like he wanted to bury himself alive and this caused you to stifle a laugh of your own. Helaena finally sat down with a dopey smile and you cautiously reached out to hold her hand, knowing she was wary of human touch. She accepted it much to your relief.

"That was great, Hel" You praised and she beamed in response. You heard Aemond shift next to you but you ignored him, opting to keep focusing on your sister-in-law who began taking sips from her cup.

"Let us have some music!" Viserys weakly announced and soon the room was filled with a soft tune.

You hadn't even realized Jacaerys was heading your way until you felt his presence next to you. You looked up at him and noticed his outstretched hand which was meant for Helaena. He gave you an apologetic smile but you shrugged, encouraging Helaena to accept. She rarely had fun and you wanted her to experience it, even if it was just for a few minutes.

She was surprised but nonetheless accepted, giving you one last smile before standing and following your brother to the dance floor.

Aegon stared at the two before turning to look at Aemond who was already looking back at him, the same look he had earlier on his face. You noticed this and scoffed, now annoyed with your husband’s behavior.

You understood Aemond’s feelings. They were valid and you never made him feel like he was being dramatic about it. You loved your brothers and would die for them, but you knew their actions all those years ago had terrible consequences – consequences that Aemond had to live with for the rest of his life. He was the one who had to wake up and see it on his face every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

But in that moment you just wanted Aemond to forgive, at least for the evening – for you.

You turned to look at your brother and aunt as they jumped around, falling back into their childish antics as they danced to the music. The sight warmed your heart and a part of you itched to join them. Your grandfather had been escorted back to his room during their dance, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up to him.

You were so focused that you hadn’t seen the roasted pig being sat in front of your husband nor had you seen the smirk your little brother Lucerys had thrown his way, finally snapping the little restrain Aemond had.

You jumped as he slammed his fists on the table and once again the conversations around the table ceased. The entire room stilled as they watched Aemond with wary eyes. You were looking at him with concern, not quite understanding what set him off.

“Final tribute,” He announced, cup in the air. His eyes were bored into Lucerys who was staring back blankly. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey” He eyed the first two, the third not being present. He hadn’t addressed you but you began to grow uncomfortable in your seat. “Each of them handsome, wise…” Aemond trailed off as he tried to fight off the smirk threatening to grow on his lips. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what was coming next.

“Strong”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Your eyes snapped open as goosebumps broke out on your arms. Your heart rate had picked up as anger and irritation clouded your senses.

“Aemond,” Alicent warned.

You were clutching the material of your dress with a tight grip, willing yourself to calm down. Your husband ignored his mother’s warning and continued.

“Come! Let us drain our cups to these three…” He was savoring the words on his tongue. Enjoying the looks of anger that both of your brothers were throwing at him. He had been so caught up in his chase of revenge that he didn’t notice the state he was in. “Strong boys”

It was your turn to abruptly stand, cheeks on fire. The sound of your chair tilting backward and hitting the floor filled the room and all eyes landed on you. You were shaking, frustrated tears clouded your vision and a scowl decorated your lips. Aemond was taken aback, not quite seeing you like this. You never got angry.

You were looking at him with an expression that filled him with nothing but dread.

“I dare you to say that again” Jacaerys called out, gaining Aemond’s attention again. He hesitated for a second, debating whether he should stop for your sake but he was far too deep now.“Why? 'Twas only a compliment” He feigned confusion as he stepped away from his seat. “Do you not think yourself Strong?” Aemond asked as Jacaerys stalked toward him, fists clenched at his sides. Lucerys slammed his palms on the table and stood up, running to his older brother’s defense.

The sound of fist meeting skin filled your ears and you watched as Aemond’s head snapped to the side at the impact of your brother’s punch. You then caught sight of Aegon grabbing Lucerys and slamming his head on the table.

Red filled your vision at the sight of Aegon manhandling your baby brother and before you could even register what you were doing, you had a fistful of his silver hair between your fingers, pulling back with all the strength you had. Aegon’s shouts of pain filled your ears but you didn’t let up until he had released Lucerys and you kept pulling backward.

You didn’t care if it was unlady like or disrespectful. Your protective instincts had kicked in the moment he laid hands on your Lucerys.

The adults were up on their feet, shouting at you all to stop. Guars even intervened, holding your twin back as he made a move to reach Aemond again.

You hadn’t even realized you were screaming until both of your sisters had pried you off of your uncle. You were red to the face, thrashing around your sisters’ arms as you attempted to reach Aegon again, who was now cursing and rubbing at the sore spots on his scalp.

You stopped fighting against the hands holding you back as the adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream began to go down. You were breathing heavily, eyes still wild with anger. You heard your mother order your siblings to return to their chambers but you were now staring at Aemond who was staring right back.

A few beats of silence passed as everyone watched the interaction between you two, trying to figure out if they needed to step in, but in the end, you only frowned before storming out of the room.

You hadn't stepped foot in your shared chambers that night.

You were angry at Aemond and his childish behavior and refused to sleep in the same bed until you cooled off. You didn’t want to say something you would regret in the heat of the moment.

So, you had gotten Laenor from the nursery and made your way to the other side of the castle where your family was currently residing. You found refuge with Baela and Rhaena, who welcomed you with open arms. Rhaena had taken the baby, claiming she hadn’t had her aunt-nephew-bonding moment yet, and you let her with a tired sigh.

Baela gave you a sympathetic look and embraced you before pulling you toward her bed. You noticed the half-full trunks a few feet from their beds and knew it meant they would be leaving tomorrow. You were sad, blaming tonight’s events for their rushed departure. You knew your mother would want to leave as soon as possible and you couldn’t blame her.

At that moment you wanted to go with them, escape the bleak walls of the castle, and return to Dragonstone. But you knew you couldn’t.

Instead, you watched as Rhaena ordered a servant to bring a crib to the room and you accepted the nightgown Baela was presenting to you.

Aemond knew he had messed up.

The look you had given him told him everything. You had never looked at him that way before and it pained him to know that he was the reason for it.

You had stormed out without a single word.

Just a frown on your soft plump lips.

He had stood there after you left, finally realizing what he had done when he caught his uncle, your stepfather, looking at him like he was his next prey.

He quickly averted his gaze and walked out as well, already planning his apology inside his head.

When he reached your shared chambers, he realized none of the guards were on watch which confused him. He quickly braced himself for what was to come but as he stepped in, he was met with silence.

Everything was exactly the same way you both left it before heading to dinner earlier.

Next, he walked toward the nursery, hoping to find you there with your son. But when he arrived he only found the nannies with his niece and nephew.

They had stood and bowed when they spotted him. “Princess [Y/N] came not long ago and took Prince Laenor with her” The oldest of the two nannies informed him nervously, eyes trained on his shoes.

He nodded and left without a word, making his way back to your shared chambers.

He knew right then and there that you were angry at him.

The only reason why he didn’t assume the worst and tore the castle upside down was because he knew you. He knew you wouldn't leave him. Sure, you were angry now but you would forgive him because you loved him and he loved you. He knew you were with your siblings right now, attempting to cool off and get your mind off of things.

That night, Aemond didn’t sleep.

The bed felt empty despite him lying on it, the sheets icy cold. Not even the roaring fire going on at the fireplace was enough to bring him warmth. He had gotten used to sleeping with you, the body heat you radiated was comforting to him. It was too quiet as well. The small breaths you took as you peacefully slept and Laenor's snuffles were what usually lulled him to sleep.

He lay there for hours, staring up at the ceiling as the night’s events replayed in his mind. It felt like an eternity before the sun began making its way back up in the sky and he found the strength to get up.

He needed to find you.

That morning, before the sun even fully rose, you had bid your family goodbye with tears. Your mother had cried as well, holding you tight and kissing your temple, promising she would visit as soon as your sister was born. Your brothers pulled you into a hug themselves, apologizing for last night but you waved it off, telling them that they had done nothing wrong.

Your stepfather, who was holding a swaddled Laenor, leaned down to press a kiss on the top of your head before handing you your baby back. Baela and Laena had promised to write as soon as they arrived. You bid your younger brothers goodbye with kisses to their cheeks and Joffrey had tried pushing you away claiming he was a big boy now. You had laughed and ruffled his hair, earning points from him.

You watched as they piled into the awaiting carriage, waving goodbye one last time until it set off and disappeared into the distance.

You sighed as the silence settled, the guards on watch standing quietly a few feet from you. You had to face Aemond now, no longer having a safe place to escape to. Laenor wiggled and cooed in your arms and you looked down at him with a small smile.

“Let’s go find your father, byka zaldrīzes” (little dragon)

You found him just as he was making his way out of your shared chambers without Laenor. You had dropped him off at the nursery with your trusted nanny, not wanting him around on whatever was going to transpire between you and your husband. Aemond’s hair was messy and unkempt, the dark bags under his eyes told you he hadn’t slept.

He froze once he saw you, eye-widening since he hadn’t expected to find you that fast. You ignored him as you passed him, walking into the room without a word. He wordlessly followed after you like a puppy trailing after his owner.

Your back was facing him as he entered and you busied yourself with finally removing the jewelry you hadn’t bothered taking off last night. A tense silence permeated the room as you both waited for the other to speak first. You refused to break it, your stubbornness kicking in.

“I’m sorry,” You almost didn’t hear it since he had whispered it but you did. He sounded like a wounded child, a contrast to the bold and confident man you grew to love. He waited after he said it, watching you as you continued to remove your jewelry quietly. He took a cautious step forward but immediately stopped when he saw you freeze. His heart ached at the sight.

“I’m sorry issa jorrāelagon, I shouldn’t have instigated a fight with your brothers. B-but I was just so angry” He began to explain, tone filled with desperation. Begging you to look at him.

Aemond Targaryen never begged but for you, he would carve his heart from his chest if you asked.

“You didn’t see the way Lucerys smirked when the pig was placed in front of me, mocking me” He explained, a dark look cast over his expression as he thought back to the way your younger brother had smirked at him.

You took a breath and finally turned to look at him, eyes glossed over.

“You called me a bastard, Aemond,” You sounded defeated. He hadn’t said the word exactly but he had hinted at it by calling your brothers Strong. Aemond’s expression fell at your words and he finally walked toward you, grabbing your hands in his.

“N-no” He stuttered out, head shaking frantically.

“Yes,” You responded and he gripped your hands tighter.

“No!” He practically shouted, startling you at the sudden volume. His gaze softened as he caught it and he took a deep breath, willing to calm his erratic heart down. “My speech wasn’t meant for you” Aemond explained, eye searching yours for understanding.

You blinked the tears away and ripped your hands from his. “No, but you insinuated it!” You moved away as he attempted to reach you again. “I’m Jacaerys’ twin sister for God’s sake! Look at me!” You gripped a fistful of your long brown locks and held it up, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as the dam broke.

Aemond felt helpless as he watched you try to hold back your cries. This had been eating at you all night after dinner and his heart broke at the realization he was the reason for it.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, voice thick with emotion. He felt like crying himself as he made his way to you and wrapped his arms around you. You tried to push him away but he only held on tighter, still whispering apologies into your hair as you finally let your cries out.

After a few more attempts to push him again and his grip not relenting, you gave up and into his hold. You both remained like that for what seemed hours, you crying and Aemond apologizing.

You forgave him in the end, the love you had for him was too great.

You didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. You noticed the subtle shift inside the castle’s mood but didn’t dwell much on it – used to it by now. You had stirred up to a quick kiss being pressed on your cheek and opened your bleary eyes to see Aemond walking out of the room.

Your trusted maid, Ella, had entered a few minutes after with a warm smile, asking if you wanted to break fast in your room. You nodded and stood up, making your way to the crib where a still-sleeping Laenor lay.

You let him be, knowing he needed his rest. Ella came back soon and served you your breakfast which you ate slowly before asking her to bring a bath.

An hour later and still no sign of Aemond, you assumed he had gone to train. You finished clipping the last earring into your ear and made a move to open your door, hoping to ask one of the guards to call one of the nannies.

But the door didn't budge. You pulled harder in confusion before you realized it had been locked from the outside. Panic settled into your stomach and you began to pound on the door, shouting for anyone who could hear you. No one came though, not even Ella.

Laenor had begun to cry now, startled by the ruckus you had just caused. You felt bad but rushed toward the window, pulling it open and looking down in hopes of spotting anyone and calling for help. You saw the crowd of Lords and their wives being rushed through the halls and even more panic filled you.

You picked a still crying Laenor up and sat on the edge of your bed, rocking him back and forth to try and calm him. Your mind began to race as you tried to figure out what was possibly happening. You thought of your ill grandfather and your heart dropped.

Something was happening and it wasn’t good.

You didn’t see Aemond that day. In fact, you hadn’t seen anyone at all.

You had heard Ella’s voice from the other side of the door twice, arguing with the morning and night knights guarding your chambers that she was your trusted maid and needed to serve you. They all ignored and sent her away both times, only opening the door to settle the tray full of your lunch and dinner on the ground.

You didn’t bother fighting your way out. You had Laenor to think about, who you had rocked back to sleep after you breastfed him. You paced around the room for hours and looked out the window various times to try and catch a glimpse of whatever was going on, but nothing told you of the specifics occurring.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until Aemond woke you up the next day, a grave expression on his face.

You practically jumped out of your skin as he touched your cheek, slumber no longer in you.

“What’s going on?” You cut straight to the point, not in the mood for lies. Aemond sighed and pulled the bottom of his lips between his teeth. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Aemond” You practically hissed, catching him off-guard.

You were tired. You had been locked inside of that room for an entire day. Being treated like a prisoner and not like the princess you were.

“My father is dead,” He finally revealed and your breath hitched. You had assumed so but hearing the words out loud just made it more real. “He wished for Aegon to ascend him” He added and you froze.

No.

“No,” You blurted out, eyes wide. “No!” You denied, pushing him away when he tried to reach you. “My Mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, is the true heir of the iron throne. My grandfather willed it so!” You shouted, momentarily forgetting Laenor was still sleeping a few feet away. Thankfully he didn’t wake.

Aemond scoffed at your words. “It was my father’s last wish before he died, my mother said so”

You laughed, dry and humorless. “She’s a liar! Don’t you see that?” You wanted to rip your hair out and scream at him until he woke up from whatever spell his mother had him under. You knew Alicent didn’t like your mother but you never expected her to go this far. No doubt, Otto was behind this as well.

Your words didn’t sit right with Aemond whose expression had turned dark. “Don’t you dare call my mother a liar! My father simply realized on his deathbed that Aegon was more fit to rule than that whore of my half-sister!”

You recoiled at his words, feeling like he had just slapped you.

“Get out!” You screamed, not caring if you woke the entire castle. Aemond finally realized what he had said and froze. You knew he was going to apologize but you didn’t want to hear it. “Get out, Aemond! I don’t want to see your face!”

Laenor had stirred awake this time, sniffing and small lips trembling as he tried to hold his cries back.

Realizing there was no coming back from this, Aemond did as you asked. He stood by the door before he left, his eye boring into your angry ones.

“Aegon is being crowned later on today. My mother and grandfather insisted you would be there to show unity,” You scoffed at this, cursing at him. He ignored it as he continued. “I’ll tell them you aren’t feeling well. But heed my advice, Wife, you will be made to choose where your loyalties lie. I hope you’re smart enough to choose the right side”

It was a warning.

With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. You screamed in frustration, throwing the nearest thing near you — a pillow — toward the door.

You needed to escape.

Salvation came an hour later in the form of your grandmother, Rhaenys, who you had no idea was still in the castle.

She had rushed into your room decked in a cloak, followed by Ser Erryk, face with terribly concealed panic.

“We have to go child,” She urged. You were holding Laenor, who was now calm and babbling up at you. You immediately reached her side and handed her your son. She gave you a confused look which you returned with a weak smile.

“Take him, grandma,” You assured, lip trembling. “I can’t go just yet. I know you will keep him safe until he reaches my mother” You were trying to hold back your tears, eyes never leaving your sweet boy.

Rhaenys shook her head, not quite understanding why you couldn’t go with her. “No, I cannot leave you. Rhaenyra will never forgive me”

You took a deep breath and wiped your wet eyes before cooling your expression. “Tell mother I will reunite with her soon. I still have something I must do”

Rhaenys wanted to argue but Ser Erryk interrupted with a regretful look, informing them that they needed to leave. You nodded to your grandmother, letting her know that it was okay. Finally, she relented and leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead.

She wasn’t the most affectionate person in your youth, you knew she had a hard time accepting you and your brothers as hers unlike her son. But you also knew she cared for you in her own way.

You watched as she finally slipped away, your baby safely tucked in her arms under her cloak.

“I’ll see you soon,” You faintly whispered as the door to your chambers finally closed.

The next few days were a blur. You had heard the whispers from the servants who were allowed to tend to you that Princess Rhaenys and her dragon, the Red Queen, had crashed Aegon’s ceremony toward the end. You had smiled, knowing Laenor was finally safe and out of reach from Aemond’s psychotic family.

No one had asked you where the babe went, the servants that tended to you assumed he was in the nursery and the nannies in the nursery assumed he was with you.

You knew you should’ve left with your grandmother when you had the chance, but you wanted to see Aemond one last time. Ask him to reconsider. A part of you knew you were being foolish. Your husband was loyal to his family, especially his mother. But the other part of you held hope that he would finally wake up and choose you.

Aemond didn’t show up after your last encounter so you had begun to plan your escape. You remembered the stories your mother told you, of the secret passageways hidden inside the royal rooms. You hoped your chambers had them.

Before you could even begin to check, Ella had rushed in, cheeks red and stained with tears. You didn’t know how she got through the guards, she hadn’t been allowed to serve you in what you think was fear from the Greens. She was your most trusted maid, appointed to you by your mother. She was telling you something in a panic but you couldn’t understand her, the words all jumbled together.

“Ella! Breathe” You grabbed her by the shoulders and watched as she stopped and hiccuped. She took a breath before bursting into more tears.

“Prince Lucerys has been killed,”

Your heart stopped.

“Prince Aemond was the one who killed him”

Your whole world crumbled.

You had never cried as much as you were doing right now.

You were on the ground, your body too weak to stand. Your wails and screams of sorrow filled the entire floor even with the door closed. Ella had been standing a few feet away from you, trying to keep her own cries down.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t think.

Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys.

Oh, my sweet baby brother Luke.

Your heart physically hurt and you began pounding on your chest, hoping the feeling would go away. Ella was calling your name, telling you to stop but you couldn’t hear her as your cries got louder and louder.

Aemond had killed Lucerys.

Your husband had murdered your brother.

Aemond was now a kinslayer.

A part of you died that night. You loved your brothers. You didn’t always agree with the things they did but they were still your brothers. Your blood.

You needed to leave.

You needed to get out.

Out. Out. Out.

You abruptly stopped your cries, wobbly standing to your feet. Ella jumped in surprise at your sudden change in mood. She watched as you began to frantically pull curtains away, pushing at walls and bookcases. She called your name but you ignored her until you finally found what you were looking for.

It was on the wall on the farther side of the room, near the closet. A quiet click filled your ears and you pushed hard before the door gave way and a dark cold hallway filled your line of sight. Ella gasped and you finally turned to look at her.

“We have to go,” You choked out before entering it. You were barefoot but you didn’t care. You needed to get away before anyone came to check on you – before Aemond came.

You knew your loud cries alerted someone and soon enough the Queen or Otto would come knocking.

Ella nodded and quickly grabbed a pair of your shoes before following after you.

You weren’t sure where you were heading but you followed the stairs, Ella behind you, before you finally reached the outside of the castle. There, you stood for a few seconds contemplating what to do next as she tried to coax you to put your shoes on.

Your face was red and swollen. The urge to cry and scream until your voice gave out was still there but you needed to get out of King's Landing first.

“Your dragon!” Your maid suggested and a lightbulb went off in your head.

Nyx.

You both then rushed off in the direction of the dragon pit, trying your best to not bump into the few civilians walking about. The entrance of the pit wasn’t heavily guarded and you mentally thanked the gods before you rushed inside.

The guards that were around immediately spotted you and made a move to stop you but you sidestepped them, Ella jumping in to hold them back. “Go! I’ll hold them off!” She had shouted behind you and your heart clenched at the thought of leaving her. But you knew you couldn’t help her without your dragon so you ran as fast as you could down the slope and into the cave where your boy was in.

You had immediately spotted him when you stepped inside. He was a gorgeous black dragon, hence the name you had given him. He was about Vermax’s size, having hatched at the same time Jace’s dragon did. Nyx had been sleeping but woke up in your presence. Chirps of happiness escaped him as he stood, stalking toward you with his wide yellow eyes on your form. You teared up, having missed him.

You rarely rode him after giving birth to Laenor and considering you had been locked up for the last few days, you hadn’t had the chance to see him.

You reached up to caress his snout and he sniffed you, chest rumbling with a growl once he smelled the sadness on you. He was becoming angry and protective over his rider and you quickly shushed him.

“We have to go, boy, there’s no time” You spoke to him in high valyrian, reaching to remove the chains from him. He understood and lowered himself so you could climb on the saddle on his back. Soon he was walking out of the cave, your fingers gripped the handles tightly.

The sight that met you when you finally emerged drained all the blood from your face. Ella was sprawled on the ground unconscious. You wanted nothing more than to climb down and pull her up but your saddle only sat one person. The guards were staring right at you, weapons in the air though they were scared as Nyx growled at them in warning.

You could hear Otto’s and Alicent’s distant shouts coming from nearby, barking out orders you couldn’t quite make out. And then you heard a third.

Aemond.

Your heart clenched at the sound of his voice and the tears resurfaced once again.

He killed Lucerys.

With one last look to your maid, you prayed she wasn’t dead and would get out of this alive.

You signaled for Nyx to begin moving and he roared at the guards in front of you. They all cowered back just as Aemond, followed by Otto and Alicent, had stepped into the pit.

Your red-rimmed eyes met his for a second before you shouted, “Sōvētēs Nyx!” (fly nyx)

You shivered as the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. You weren’t properly dressed for a ride, still in your nightgown. Nyx was flying in the direction of Dragonstone and soon enough you would be home. You would be reunited with your baby and while you were being hugged by your mother, Lucerys would jump out and yell surprise! You would find out this was all one big cruel joke that everyone but you were in.

But you knew that was just your denial talking.

Suddenly, you heard a roar and you straightened up, eyes scanning your surroundings. Nyx was alert, his beady yellow eyes turned to slits.

You knew who it was before you saw him.

“[Y/N]!” Aemond shouted behind you. Vhagar’s huge frame and shark teeth sent a shiver of fear down your spine. You commanded Nyx to fly faster and soon you were both in a chase. He kept shouting your name, pleading for you to stop but you didn’t listen.

You didn’t want to listen to him. He couldn’t apologize his way out of this one. He had killed your little brother, murdered him in cold blood.

You didn’t know how he did it and you didn’t want to know.

You feared if you knew you would turn around and end his life yourself.

Vhagar was gaining speed and soon enough she was almost next to you and your dragon.

“[Y/N]! Please! Listen to me!” Aemond shouted, hair flying back. You clenched your teeth as anger, grief, and sadness surged through you. “ÑUHO GLAESO HŪRUS, PLEASE LOOK AT ME!” (moon of my life)

Your head snapped in his direction, eyes blazing. “Don’t call me that! You lost the privilege the moment you murdered my brother!” You shouted at him. Nyx let out another roar as he felt the pain you were currently in through the bond.

“It was an accident!” He defended himself and your anger flared. You wanted to jump off Nyx and strangle him. Hit him until blood flooded his mouth and he wasn’t able to speak.

An accident?

He had killed your brother and was acting like he had simply tripped him.

You knew he hated them but you didn’t think it would reach the point of actual murder.

“I hate you! I wish I had never married you at all!” You shouted at him, tears cascading down your face.

I wish you were dead, you thought to yourself and immediately regretted it.

You didn’t actually mean it but at that moment you didn’t care. You wanted him to hurt the same way you were at that moment.

You didn’t realize Nyx had turned, jaws open and ready to attack until it was too late. In the heat of the moment, overwhelmed with your anger and thirst for revenge, your loyal dragon had decided to enact it for you.

Vhagar screeched at Nyx’s approach and you pulled at the reins, hoping to force your dragon away from the old and much bigger dragon. “NO!” You shouted, fear and panic in your voice.

Aemond was shouting at Vhagar, commanding her to stand down, but the war dragon wasn’t listening. His heart was beating out of his chest, a wave of deja vu hitting him as he watched as Vhagar’s teeth clamped on the side of Nyx’s neck.

“Vhagar, stand down!” Aemond screamed again and this time the old dragon listened. She let go but the damage was done. Nyx was losing too much blood, the smell of iron filled your nose, and blood sprayed from the wound, drenching you in the process.

Nyx was getting weaker as more and more blood poured from the open wound and you knew he wasn’t going to make it.

Aemond watched in horror as your dragon began to fall, with you still on the saddle. You were staring up at him, your own eyes wide.

You knew this was it.

This was the end.

This was how you would die.

You were falling, fast, and there was nothing you could do.

Even if you jumped off now, you would still be falling into the Stranger’s arms. The impact from the sea would carry you to it.

You thought of your mother. Your poor mother who already lost a son, who would now lose a daughter.

You thought of Jacaerys, who on top of losing a brother, would lose his other half.

You thought of Laenor, who would grow up without a mother, only stories of you to comfort him.

You thought of your other siblings, who would have to weep and mourn another of their kin.

“[Y/N]!” Aemond screamed, commanding Vhagar to swoop down and follow. He wanted to reach you, to save you. The older dragon let out a deep roar as she sped up and Aemond reached his hand out for you to grasp.

“Hold my hand!” He shouted, hoping you would untie your restraints and come back to safety with him.

But it was too late.

I love you, you mouthed up at him and his face contorted. A choked sound escaped his lips, a mixture of a shout and a sob, as he watched the water getting closer and closer.

The smell of sea salt invaded your senses and you knew it was coming.

You closed your eyes and welcomed death with open arms.

I’m coming Lucerys.

tags、@heavenly1927 @marihoneywk @foggypeacestarlight

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myladysapphire · 4 months

Text

the great war | aemond targaryen (part one)

part 2

Summary: The night Aemond Targaryen lost his eye he gained two things. A dragon and a wife.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Show spoilers, cursing, mild angst, the word bastard, terrible description of a traditional Valyrian wedding, a terrible attempt to write a prediction, suggestive language, not really much dialogue until the end, mentions of blood, death

Word Count: 5.9k words.

Notes: This is my first work on this app, so excuse me for any mistakes! I haven't written an imagine in so long so this might be a bit awkward, sorry. This is part 1 of 2. It got so long that i had to cut it in half omg. Aemond is still himself, he’s just only sweet to the reader. The man’s in love. There is no smut in this, sorry. The ages are really confusing due to the time jumps and I tried finding a reliable source but they all say different things so for the sake of the imagine and my peace of mind, reader is 18 during her wedding and 19 during the dance! Aemond is 21 and then 22 since it says he and Jace have a 4-year age gap!

Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy!

The night Aemond Targaryen lost his eye he gained two things.

A dragon and a wife.

You were Rhaenyra’s eldest and only daughter, born an hour after Jacaerys.

Although your hair was brown, a trait your brothers also had, you had inherited the violet eyes and the delicate Targaryen beauty that could captivate the attention of any that laid their eyes on you.

You were intelligent but also quiet, the opposite of your loud and playful brothers.

While your twin and younger brother ran around Kings Landing pulling pranks with your eldest uncle and spent their time at the dragon pit, you often chose to spend your time either at the library or stuck by your mother’s skirts.

Because of this, Aemond didn’t really know you.

You were honestly a mystery to him.

Your brothers filled their days terrorizing him and he despised them for it, and anyone would assume that by default, he would despise you too.

But Aemond couldn’t bring himself to hate you, let alone dislike you.

Although the only time you guys crossed each other’s paths was during the rare family dinners and your even rarer visits to the dragon pit when you wanted to see your dragon, you were kind to him. You didn’t really speak, as you were painfully shy, but the sweet smiles you threw at him and the soft ‘hello’s’ you muttered when he was near was all Aemond needed.

One could say that he even developed a small crush on you. He found you pretty and he knew you were different from your brothers. He always looked forward to the next time you would cross paths.

After Joffrey’s birth, your parents decided it was best that you all moved to Dragonstone and sadly that was the last time Aemond saw you. He was saddened by this but didn’t try to show it for fear he would disappoint his mother.

He knew of Alicent’s distaste when it came to his half-sister and her children for obvious reasons.

In the days leading to Laena’s funeral, Aemond found himself growing excited despite the circumstances. He was looking forward to seeing you and perhaps even attempting to talk to you.

But unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen.

The morning you and your family were set to embark on your journey to Driftmark, you woke up with a terrible fever that left you bedridden.

Rhaenyra was distraught with the thought of leaving you and even contemplated skipping the funeral altogether but you had convinced her to go, knowing that even if she did have a valid excuse to miss it, people would whisper about her more than they already did.

You might’ve been young but you weren’t stupid. You knew of the whispers that circulated about your and your brother’s parentage and felt the piercing stares.

You also knew how this was all eating your mother alive, how she would cry herself to sleep at night when she didn’t think anyone could hear her. You couldn’t really bring yourself to hate her for it either, also knowing that your “father's” tastes were for the same gender.

After some reluctance from your mother, she eventually left you with promises to come back as soon as the funeral was over. A teary-eyed Laenor had left you with a kiss on the forehead, promising to bring you back sweets since you would hopefully be better by then. Jacaerys and Lucerys had also bid you goodbye, promising to tell you all about it when they got back.

Aemond had frowned when your family arrived with no sign of you. He had been tempted to corner Jacaerys, or even Lucerys, and ask about you but fortunately, he had overheard his father ask Rhaenyra where you were.

It wasn’t a secret that Viserys had his favorites and he was smitten with his only granddaughter. Rhaenyra had told their father of your sudden sickness and he could see the distraught in his half-sister’s face.

This left him worried, hoping that it wasn’t serious and that you would get better soon.

That night, after finally claiming his own dragon, he lost his left eye at the hands of Lucerys.

“He called us bastards!” Jacaerys spoke, face caked with dirt and dry blood, as he stood near a shaken Rhaenyra. An equally bloody Lucerys stood on her other side, hands clutching hers in fear. The room grew tense at the revelation and an injured Aemond wanted to shout that when he had called them bastards he didn’t mean you.

His lip twitched but he kept his mouth shut as his sewn eye throbbed, and in that moment he was thankful for your absence at Driftmark. He was glad that you weren’t present to witness the fight or his gory injury. You were too kind, too innocent and this would’ve broken you in some way.

He hated your brothers but he didn’t hate you.

Viserys had shouted at him and asked where he had heard such lies. His gaze immediately flickered toward his mother. Alicent was already tense but as his eye met hers, her body grew rigid. Her glossed-over eyes bore into his and for a moment he wondered what his father would do if he told the truth.

But Aemond loved his mother despite her faults and she loved him. So, after a few tense moments of silence, he blamed it on his older brother who was taken aback at his lie. Viserys anger was now directed at Aegon, who was also questioned about the origins of this lie.

“We know Father,” Aegon’s voice wavered. “We all know. Just look at them”

The obvious was finally pointed out in public but Viserys still refused to see it. In his eyes, Rhaenyra’s children were true Targaryens, and Aemond agreed with him to an extent.

Your brothers were the bastards, not you. You might’ve not had the silver hair but you had the same eyes he had and the angel-like features that your brothers lacked. It didn’t matter that you shared a womb with Jacaerys either – in his mind, all the bastard blood had gone to him.

The rest was a blur to Aemond, the pain in his eye was growing to be unbearable even after the milk of the poppy had kicked in. He hadn’t even registered the moment his mother had run at Rhaenyra with a knife, the shouts and Lucerys’ screams were what brought him back.

“You’ve gone too far!” His half-sister shouted at his distraught mother as she held her back by her arm and shoulder. Alicent stared back at her in disbelief, the knife still in the air. “I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law” His mother spilled her frustrations as she ignored the shouts from her husband and father to release the blade.

Aemond could only think of you as he witnessed the scene unfolding in front of him. He was once again thankful for your absence, for he knew you would be weeping for your mother in fear, just like his nephew Lucerys was currently doing.

He knew how much you loved Rhaenyra and a part of his brain whispered that you would’ve probably begun to hate him right then and there due to his mother’s actions and that scared him.

Would you begin to hate him and his family when news reached you? No doubt your annoying brothers would tell you all about it as soon as they arrived, probably even lie about the whole thing and blame him for it.

“ENOUGH!” Viserys voice brought him back to the present and he noticed that his mother and half-sister were no longer against one another. His half-sister was clutching her arm and he realized she had been bleeding profusely from it. The knife his mother was holding now lay bloodied on the ground.

The room was staring at the scene in shock, not quite understanding what had just happened. Aemond immediately stood, ignoring the fresh wave of pain that shot through him.

His father was livid, he could see that as his chest rose and fell rapidly, but Viserys managed to calm himself down. “What happened tonight was terrible but it was a mistake!” He gave Alicent a hard look as he said the last word and Aemond could see the fight drain from his mother’s body.

“We’re meant to be a family! I will not have fighting between us!” Viserys continued, arms flailing as he tried to get his point across. “Because of that, I hereby declare that Aemond and [Y/N] are betrothed to each other, this way we can finally unite both sides of this family!”

Aemond froze at this, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt like he was dreaming. You were to be married to him!

Gasps filled the room at Viserys’ declaration and Rhaenyra immediately stepped forward, panic written on her face. “Father, you can’t possibly be serious?” his half-sister shook her head, tears clouding her vision. His own mother opened her mouth to protest but Viserys was hearing none of it.

His father shook his head, hand raised up in a way to silence both his wife and daughter. “You all have given me no choice! This is the only way we can finally be a united family. I will not hear any more of this. My word is final!”

And with that, Viserys stormed out of the room leaving a helpless Rhaenyra and a defeated Alicent behind. Aemond on the other hand fought to keep his smile from his face.

He might’ve lost his eye but he had gained both a dragon and your hand in exchange.

For a split second, Aemond thought about thanking Lucerys.

The second time you and Aemond cross paths again is years later at your wedding. You were past your eighteenth name day now and had long flowered into a woman before that. If it weren't for your mother's stalling, you would have married as soon as your first moon blood had passed.

You remember the day you were told you were set to marry Aemond.

Three days after your family had gone to Driftmark, your mother had barged into your room and pulled you into a bone-crushing embrace. You were feeling better now, the fever was long gone but you still felt gross and slightly achy. You were looking forward to the promised snacks that your father had told you he would bring, but instead, you were given terrible news.

A solemn Rhaenyra told you that your father had died, killed by a man he trusted. Although you knew the truth of your parentage, you had wept into her arms, mourning the loss of the man who treated you and your brothers like his own.

It took you an hour to calm down but once you did you finally noticed the bandage on her arm. You had questioned her about it, immediately worried for her safety considering your father had just been killed, but she assured you that she was fine and it was an accident. She then told you about the betrothal your grandfather set upon you.

“Your grandfather…” your mother began to explain but had to stop to swallow the growing lump in her throat. You noticed the tears well up in her eyes once again and your heart rate sped up. “What? Grandfather what?” You asked, bloodshot eyes full of worry. You were gripping her hands tightly now, scared of what she was going to say next.

You already lost a father, you didn’t want to lose your grandfather.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath and squeezed your hands. “Your grandfather announced your engagement to Aemond” she revealed and you felt your world stop once again. The color drained from your face as different thoughts swirled inside your head. You knew you were going to be married off one day but you thought it wouldn’t be until years later.

You had nothing against Aemond, he was surprisingly nice to you considering how much your brothers loved to tease him. You had also never held a conversation with him, save for the brief ‘hello’s’ you managed to squeak out.

You just had hoped you would be able to choose your own match, your mother had promised.

At your silence, Rhaenyra engulfed you in another hug and ran her fingers through your hair in an attempt to bring you comfort. “I’m so sorry. I had no say in this. I promise I’ll find a way to stop it. I’ll talk to him, beg him if I need to. Don’t you worry my darling girl”

You wept twice that night.

One for the loss of your father and the second for the loss of your freedom to choose.

But despite your mother’s efforts and promises, your betrothal was never broken. Rhaenyra feared you would grow to resent her for it but you had assured her you didn’t blame her. Your grandfather was a stubborn man and after what Jace told you about what happened the night of Laena’s funeral and how your mother came to sustain the injury in her arm, you knew Viserys was not going to budge.

You were angry at Alicent for hurting your mother but you couldn’t find yourself angry at Aemond for uttering the words he did to your siblings. He had simply said the word that he had learned from the adults around him – the same adults who had been saying it from the moment you and your twin graced the castle with your dark hair.

But this didn’t mean you weren’t hurt though. Although you weren't present to receive Aemond’s curses, you were now set to marry him, and the thought of him thinking you were a bastard hurt.

Jace had also told you about the fight and you had scolded him, telling him that although you were sad for Baela, an unclaimed dragon was free for anyone to claim. You had paled at the mention of Aemond almost bashing his head with a rock and paled even further when he had revealed that Lucerys had taken one of his eyes in his defense.

“Are you with me sweet girl?” your mother’s soothing voice filled your ears and you came back to your senses.

You were standing in the middle of your mother’s old rooms, dressed in a white dress similar to the one she wore to her own wedding to Laenor. A full-length mirror was a few feet away from you, giving you a full view of the jewels she was decorating your braided hair with. You mustered a small smile and nodded which caused her to sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders, pulling your back to her chest. You could see the tears gathering in her eyes and immediately began to attempt to calm her down. “Don’t apologize, Mother, it’s not your fault. It’s okay, I’m alright” you assured her as you brought your hands to grasp the arms holding you.

You could feel her shaking behind you as she tried to bite back her sobs and squeezed her arms tighter.

“I can take you away. There is still time. Gods, I should’ve done that ages ago. Come on” She began to make an effort to pull you away but you shook your head, letting go of her arms and turning to face her causing her to release the hold she had on you.

“Mother, no” you shushed her as you reached to grab her hands, giving them a firm squeeze. “Grandfather loves you but you don’t know what he might do if you disobey his orders” Rhaenyra opened her mouth to protest but you shook your head again, a sad smile on your lips.

“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. They can’t do anything to me as long as I have grandfather’s protection and you do know I’m his favorite” you joked in an attempt to ease her worries and it (somewhat) worked. Rhaenyra sniffed and quickly wiped the tears that escaped her eyes. She brought that same hand to cradle your face, eyes full of pride and sorrow.

“When did you get so big?” she questioned herself and you offered her a bigger smile, snuggling closer to her touch. “I did not want my fate of marrying someone not of my choosing to befall you. I just want you and your brothers to be happy” she confessed and your heart clenched.

You cradled her face this time and she smiled, more tears escaped her eyes. You wiped them away with your thumbs. “I’m sure I’ll grow to be happy in this marriage,” you told her in an attempt to comfort her – but also to comfort yourself.

In the end, your mother hadn’t smuggled you away and you had gone through the wedding.

Much to Alicent’s displeasure, Viserys wanted you and Aemond to have a traditional Valyrian wedding.

Your mother tried her best to keep herself composed throughout the entire ceremony while your brothers – Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey – watched the entire thing with sad eyes. You would not return home with them after this and that pained them, especially your twin. Your stepsisters, Baela and Rhaena, offered you encouraging smiles when your gaze fell on them and that brought you some comfort.

Your aging grandfather on the other hand was ecstatic. He had a huge smile on his face he watched as you walked into the room and couldn't help but tear up. You looked so much like your mother and he found himself wishing Aemma were alive to witness this moment.

Alicent stood next to him, a poker face on her face whilst your uncle Aegon seemed to be drunk as usual but delighted. Helaena had been mumbling something next to him, eyes glazed over as she stared at you make your way to an awaiting Aemond.

Per tradition, your stepfather Daemon was escorting you to your future husband. You had grown close to him and his daughters during the last few years and just like Laenor, Daemon treated you as if you were his own child.

A few feet away, Aemond had found himself speechless. This was the first time he was seeing you after all these years. Although you had arrived a few days ago, your family had found a way to keep you from his eye and that frustrated him.

But as he took you in now, he couldn’t find himself to be annoyed anymore.

You had grown and matured greatly. You were taller, reaching just under his chin, and your hair had gotten lighter. The white dress you wore fit you snuggly, revealing curves that weren’t there the last time he had seen you.

He could see that you were nervous as your body slightly trembled when Daemon finally let go of your arm when you stood in front of him. Aemond could sympathize with you as he himself was also feeling the same but hid it.

He wondered what you were thinking as you stared at him, growing self-conscious as your eyes lingered on the dark eyepatch covering the place his left eye once used to be. The scar was now fully healed and wasn't as gruesome as it once was but he still thought it was unpleasant to look at.

But the smile you gave him a few seconds later as you stood next to him was all the answer he needed. It was still the same smile, full of kindness.

He had worried you hated him for a second and much to everyone’s surprise, as well as your own, he reached out and gently grasped your hand in his.

As you felt his hand grasp yours, you grew confused. You were sure he hated you after what Lucerys did but as he stared at you, a kind smile on his own face, you couldn’t help but think you were worried for nothing.

Your families watched you two with bated breaths, no one had seen Aemond smile in years.

The rest of the ceremony became a blur as you and Aemond cut each other’s lower lips, gathering and smearing each other’s blood on each other’s foreheads with your thumbs. Your palm throbbed as you sliced the fine blade of dragonglass through it before bringing it to hold his awaiting bleeding one.

Before you knew it, the cup was being placed in your free hand and you were made to drink. You grimaced at the metallic taste and forced yourself to swallow before handing it to Aemond.

You had watched your mother’s and Daemon’s own ceremony years ago and always wondered how she kept a straight face as she drank from the cup.

Aemond’s smile remained on his face even after he finished drinking from the cup, handing it back to the Septon. The man said a few more words before you both were told to recite your vows.

“You may now kiss,” the man announced as you and Aemond finished. Your heart rate picked up at this and Aemond squeezed your hand, waiting for you to give him permission. Realing this, you shyly nodded and he leaned in to connect his lips to yours.

The first thing you felt was the sting of your lip due to the cut but it was quickly replaced with a metallic taste of your blood mixing with each other once again. Desire brewed inside Aemond and he wrapped his free arm around you, pulling you flush to his body. This startled you and you gasped into the kiss, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and explore.

You felt your body grow hot in response, not only was this all new to you but your families were currently watching.

Aegon’s whistling broke Aemond from his lust-filled state and he finally ended the kiss, his own cheeks red in embarrassment. You offered him a shy smile in response and Aemond swore to himself that he would do anything in his power to ensure it never went away.

The first year of your marriage felt like a dream that was too good to be true.

The month following your wedding you had worried that he would wake up one day and begin hating you for having to marry the daughter of a woman who the court whispered was unfaithful. But Aemond never changed and was nothing but sweet to you.

He always accompanied you on your walks when he was free, often glaring at those who even dared to look at you in the wrong way. He read to you when you had trouble sleeping, helped you practice your high valyrian, went on dragon rides with you, and even commented about how much he loved your hair.

You would always blush and thank him, not quite used to the attention.

Aemond was attractive in your eyes. He was tall and strong, something you noticed during your wedding night and then when you watched him train once. He was also smart, the piles of books he would bring to your shared chambers so he could tell you about them.

You also loved his scar – something you knew he was self-conscious about but you always made sure to tell him it was beautiful. One night, you had finally convinced it to stop wearing it to bed, assuring him that nothing would be able to scare you away from him and Aemond conceded.

The blue sapphire that rested underneath the eyepatch never failed to take your breath away. The first time you saw it, you gasped – not in fear, but in awe.

Aemond had been stiff, scared of rejection but it never came. Instead, you had reached out and softly traced the scar and shyly leaned up to press a kiss beneath his brow. Aemond had practically melted, the tension in his body bleeding out.

After that interaction, the man had become like a lovesick puppy.

Aegon loved to tease him for it every chance he got.

At the news of your pregnancy three moons after your marriage, Aemond grew even more loving if possible. He refused to leave your side unless he truly had to. He was glued to your side and always made sure you had everything you needed and wanted.

Alicent, who was wary of you at first, grew to love you as well after she saw how happy you made her son. You were still careful around her, as well as her father Otto – your mother’s and step-father’s warnings ringing in your head.

You barely interacted with Aegon, Aemond refused to leave you around him. Your husband always claimed that his brother was a "drunk who didn't know better".

Helaena and you grew close though. You missed your stepsisters and the quiet girl brought the same comfort they once did. You also saw how much Aemond cared for her and you hated the way Aegon treated her.

Helaena was an angel in your eyes. She might've come off as a bit odd due to her nonsense rambling and love for bugs but she was harmless!

She had been delighted at the news of your pregnancy, beaming up at you as she talked about how the twins would love them before she abruptly stopped and fell into one of her episodes.

“The third will fall and the second will follow” She had mumbled loud enough for you to catch, eyes looking into yours. Goosebumps rose on your arms but you didn’t question her on it, used to her confusing riddles.

Aemond had told you to ignore it when you first asked him about it, telling you that his sister didn’t mean anything by it.

Your grandfather was happy at the news of your pregnancy but grew terribly ill as the months passed.

Your mother had sent back a raven, telling you how much she loved you and how she would visit as soon as she could. She said your siblings were also happy and although they wished to visit you, they couldn’t for obvious reasons.

Rhaenyra had kept her promise and had arrived a few days before your due date. You were nervous, the thought of dying like your grandmother Aemma scared you and you confessed your fears to Aemond, who kissed them away and promised you would be fine.

You had heard stories and even witnessed your mother give birth to Joffrey but nothing could prepare you for the actual labor.

It was exhausting and extremely painful. You had cried and shouted multiple times that you couldn’t do it. Your mother and Alicent had seemed to set their differences aside for a while and tried to comfort you but it wasn’t until Aemond barged into the room and held your hands that you found the strength to push again.

“Come on ñuho glaeso hūrus, you can do it” he encouraged, wiping the sweat from your brow with his hands. (moon of my life)

After ten grueling hours of labor, you had given birth to a son, whom you named Laenor after your father. Rhaenyra had wept as she kissed your sweaty forehead, overwhelmed with the sight of her baby bringing her own baby into the world.

Baby Laenor had inherited the typical Targaryen features much to Alicent’s relief. He had the striking silver hair that Aemond had, as well as the violet eyes you both shared. Your grandfather, still ill, had gathered the strength to visit you and see the baby for himself.

He had also wept at the sight.

Aemond was immediately taken by his son, his eye never left his face. He thought the baby was the perfect blend of you both.

You both spent the next few moons falling into the role of being new parents. You chose to keep Laenor close, refusing to let him sleep at the nursery like the rest of the children.

You didn’t let him feed off of wet nurses either, wanting to bond with him and keep him safe despite knowing all of the wet nurses were trusted. Aemond was also very hands-on, when the baby woke he would already be up tending to him, telling you to go back to sleep.

You felt like you were on cloud nine and hoped this feeling would never go away.

A few weeks after Laenor's fifth moon, news of your Velaryron grandfather's grave injuries that he sustained at the stepstones reached Kings Landing.

A few days after that, a raven sent by your mother arrived. She had told you that Vaemond was calling Lucerys' claim to Driftmark into question and they would be arriving at the castle in a few weeks to settle it.

You couldn't help but grow worried for multiple reasons.

First, your mother was currently pregnant with what she claimed was going to be your baby sister and you feared the stress would do her and the baby harm.

Secondly, your parentage would once again be loudly questioned through this and you feared that this would finally make Aemond hate you.

You kept these worries to yourself, not wanting to worry your husband. Instead, you focused on taking care of Laenor and spending as much time as you could with Aemond, savoring the moments as if they were your last.

If Aemond noticed your sudden clinginess, he didn't comment on it.

Your family arrived a few weeks later as promised and you were the only person to greet them. Everyone, even your loving husband, seemed to disappear at the announcement of your mother’s arrival, and deep down you knew why.

It hurt you and the negative thoughts you tried so hard to push down came pouring to the surface. But you brushed it off, standing at the castle steps with Laenor bundled in your arms as you watched the carriage pull in.

You noticed the confusion in your family’s faces at the lack of people around but it was quickly replaced by joy as they took you in. Your pregnant mother had been the first to reach you, tears already in her eyes, and pulled you and your son into a hug.

Believe it or not, Rhaenyra rarely cried but she had such a soft spot for her children. No doubt the pregnancy hormones had something to do with it as well.

Jacaerys had gathered Laenor in his arms after your mother pressed a kiss to his forehead. Your twin brother cooed at the sight of his nephew, who was owlishly blinking up at him. Lucerys and Rhaena had gathered you in a hug each and Joffrey was practically buzzing with excitement as he tried to get a glimpse of his nephew.

Your younger brothers, Viserys and Aegon were being carried by their nannies. Your stepfather pressed a kiss on your forehead before smiling at the bundle in Jace’s arms.

“Where is everyone?” Daemon asked after a minute, his tone disapproving as his eyes skimming the almost empty steps save for the guards standing watch. You flushed red in embarrassment and although it wasn’t your fault you still felt bad. Rhaenyra chided Daemon and whispered something to him before she turned her attention back to you and looped her arms in yours.

“Come, we’ve had a long journey,” She called out and began walking toward the now-opened door. The rest of your family followed behind, Laenor was now in Rhaena's arms. “How are you, Mother?” You questioned her, free hand reaching down to caress her bump as you walked the empty halls of the castle.

“A little stressed but fine, darling” She confessed and you couldn’t help but pout. “Grandfather isn’t even dead yet. I don’t understand why Vaemond is acting like this. What did grandma say?” You asked but Rhaenyra gave you a smile in return. “Don’t you worry about it. Now, Daemon and I should go pay our king a visit” She changed the topic and you pouted even more.

You all stopped by the stairs and you let go of your mother’s arm. “I must warn you, Mother. Grandfather’s illness how gotten significantly worse than the last time you saw him” You revealed, eyes falling to Daemon who seemed to frown at this.

With that, Rhaenyra pressed another kiss to your forehead and grabbed Daemon’s arm before making their way up the stairs. You watched as they reached the top before you turned to your siblings, a smile on your lips.

“Who’s hungry?”

The next day you had woken up to kisses being pressed to your collarbones. You had gone to bed a few hours after you had finished catching up with your siblings and settled Laenor into his own crib at the foot of the bed. Aemond had been MIA the entire time so you had fallen asleep alone for the first time since you got married.

“I’m sorry for disappearing on you yesterday,”

Aemond.

His voice was gruff, still laced with remnants of sleep. You hummed in response when he planted a kiss on the side of your neck, slowly blinking as you tried to get used to the light inside the room. “I had many duties to attend to, I couldn’t ignore them” He explained further, finally reaching your face and planting a kiss on the corner of your lips. You offered him a smile as your answer, letting him know that it was okay and you weren’t angry.

You leaned up to kiss him, running your hands through his loose hair and you both sighed into it. You loved kissing him. His lips were always soft on yours. “We should get dressed” You mumbled once you both pulled away and he pouted down at you, causing you to giggle. “Can’t we stay in bed a while longer?” He whined like a child and you huffed out a laugh at this.

Laenor’s babbles filled the room and you quirked a brow at your husband. “There’s your answer dear husband” You smiled cheekily at him and Aemond playfully groaned before rolling off the bed and walking toward his son. “Good morning byka zaldrīzes” Aemond cooed as he scooped up the smiling baby. (little dragon)

Your heart melted at the sight, your smile widening.

God, you loved your little family.

A few hours later, you and Aemond found yourselves standing in the throne hall to listen to Vaemond’s petition after leaving Laenor in the nursery with his cousins under the supervision of your trusted maid. You stood with Aemond’s family due to you being married to him and offered your nervous mother a reassuring smile. You noticed Baela standing with your grandmother and couldn’t help but smile wider as your eyes met.

Your attention was taken by Aemond who reached to grab your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. You looked at him but his eyes trained on his grandfather who had begun the hearing. A few seconds later, Vaemond stepped forward and began to state his case and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The man was making digs at your mother and her children, making digs at you.

You felt Aemond tense next to you and your heart rate picked up. He didn’t let your hand go though, something that comforted you a bit.

After Vaemond’s petition, your mother stepped forward to give hers. Just as she began to speak, the doors to the throne room opened and the guards announced the arrival of your grandfather, the king.

Everyone watched Viserys with wide eyes. Alicent gasped in front of you at the sight of her weak husband and your mother seemed to be in disbelief.

You were in disbelief yourself, you hadn't seen your grandfather up on his feet for months now.

Viserys made his way to the iron throne slowly, refusing help when he began to ascend the stairs. His crown fell as he neared the throne and you watched as your stepfather left your mother's side and quickly went to help his brother. Daemon picked up his crown and set it back on his balding head before stepping aside and returning to your mother.

Your grandfather finally reached the throne and practically threw himself on it, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. The walk had taken much of his energy. "I must... admit... my confusion" He rasped out, pain written on his face. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession"

Your grandfather called his cousin, your grandmother, up to the floor to give insight into your Valyrian grandfather's succession in case he passed. She had confirmed that Lucerys was still set to inherit Driftmark as its Lord. She had also revealed that your mother planned to marry Jace and Luke to Rhaena and Baela, which didn't sit right with Vaemond.

"You break the law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon?" Vaemond spat out in anger, body tense. "No. I will not allow it"

Viserys scoffed, ""Allow it"? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond" The ailing king warned but Vaemond ignored it.

"That! is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine" The man shouted, finger pointing to an uncomfortable Lucerys who your mother attempted to shield. Anxiety filled you as the tension in the room rose. Dread pooled in your stomach, fearing what was coming next. You hadn't even realized that your grip on Aemond's hand had tightened until your own fingers hurt.

Vaemond's tirade kept on going, words laced with venom slithering out of his mouth. "My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this--" He was red in the face as he stopped himself from uttering the words you had grown accustomed to hearing behind your back.

"Her children..."

You held your breath as you watched the man begin to speak again, your rosy cheeks gone pale.

"ARE BASTARDS!"

You recoiled as he shouted the words, hand releasing Aemond's. You felt as if you had been slapped, eyes wide and heart pounding. Tears gathered in your eyes and you began to feel hot as eyes landed on you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you in an effort to comfort you.

You didn't seem to grasp what was happening until you heard a thump and saw the semi-decapitated head of your grandfather's brother. A choked sob escaped your lips at the sight and Aemond attempted to shield you away as the rest of the crowd gasped and screamed.

Your ears were buzzing, your heart hammering painfully inside your chest. Your surroundings became a blur to you as the panic kicked in. You didn't even realize you were crying until you were back in your room, in Aemond's arms as he attempted to calm you down. He had rushed you out of the throne room as soon as his grandfather was escorted out, ignoring the calls from both his family and yours.

"I'm sorry," You sniffed once you stopped crying. Aemond wiped the tears away, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Why are you apologizing?" He was lost. You hadn't done anything wrong.

Your lip trembled and fresh tears made their way down your reddened cheeks. "B-because you had to marry me. B-because I'm a bas--" He didn't let you finish the words as he moved your body to face him and he planted a kiss on your wet lips.

"Do not repeat those words" Aemond hissed, his grip on you tightening. He was staring at you, expression serious.

"You are not what people claim you to be. You are the granddaughter of Viserys Targaryen, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. You are my wife, the mother of my child. You might not have the silver hair but you possess everything else that a Targaryen does. You are a true Targaryen"

Aemond hated to see you sad. It broke his heart.

Your heart fluttered at his words and in that moment you wondered how you had become so lucky.

You prayed to your ancestors and the Gods above that nothing would change.

But you should’ve known things were too good to be true.

592 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 4 months

Text

HYMN OF DEATH — prologue

masterlist.

Summary: Daemon Targaryen might've hated Rhea Royce but he loved his daughter dearly.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!OC x Aemond Targaryen

Warnings: mentions of death, parent loss, cursing, slightly suggestive themes, mentions of violence, Daemon being Rhea's number one hater like usual (they lowkey become bffs tho), I used a translator for the High Valyrian so it might be wrong, typical targcest.

Word Count: 3.8k words.

Notes: This is mostly background information so it might be a bit boring, sorry. The story won't really begin until chapter one (coming soon I promise). I took the book ages and aged them up by two years because the show timeline is just so fucked up. Aemond was born in 112 AC and Jace was born in 116 AC (Nyra and Laenor wed in 116 AC in the show apparently so). My OC was born in 113 AC so they don’t have a crazy ass age gap. I tried my best lmao. Just don't focus too much on the dates cause you'll go crazy as much as I am right now trying to figure this out. This hasn’t been 100% proofread so excuse any mistakes! If you want to be added to a permanent tag list for when new chapters get published, lmk!!

Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy!

It was no secret that the marriage between Rhea Royce and Prince Daemon Targaryen wasn't a happy one.

Both made their distaste toward each other very clear with Daemon often referring to her as the "bronze bitch" and Rhea referring to him as the “realm’s whore”

The marriage hadn’t even been consummated.

Daemon had ditched his new wife after the ceremony for the company of the whores of Flea Bottom. Rhea couldn’t bring herself to care, the thought of bedding the Prince dubbed “Lord of Flea Bottom” disgusted her so Daemon was honestly doing her a favor.

This behavior continued for years and soon it was clear to everyone that the match would never be fruitful.

Daemon held on to hope that his brother, the King, would come around and annul the marriage since there was a lack of heirs but as always, his pleas fell on deaf ears.

In 112 AC, King Viserys banished Daemon to Runestone as a punishment for his recent endeavor.

Daemon thought about defying his brother’s orders, of hiding and waiting it out between the thighs of the whores he frequented, but Viserys could read him like a book and threatened him, promising that if he didn’t go to his wife he would be exiled for good.

The Prince thought his brother was being a little dramatic but begrudgingly followed the orders, arriving at Runestone a few days later.

Rhea was less than thrilled to live under the same roof as her estranged husband, making it very clear through sneers and backhanded compliments. Daemon fought back as well, insulting her like he always did.

They spent the first month like this, often avoiding each other like the plague, but soon the game of cat and mouse got boring. Daemon’s boredom caught up to him, and his goal of annoying Rhea with his existence slowly turned into them breaking fast together and going on horse rides.

The reluctant couple found themselves adapting to the new arrangement, the mutual dislike turned into mutual tolerance and during the fourth month of living together, it happened.

They were both in Rhea’s solar, deep into the barrel of Dornish Red that Daemon had brought back with him, reminiscing about the past with snorts and laughter, throwing out hypothetical “what ifs” when it suddenly got quiet.

Rhea’s cheeks were warm, tinted with a light blush as an effect from the wine. The flickering candles surrounding them cast a golden hue over her features and for the first time, Daemon saw his “bronze bitch” in a new light.

He didn’t even realize what he was doing until his lips were on hers, kissing her with so much hunger and fervor that it left Rhea breathless.

The Lady of Stepstones didn’t make an effort to push away either, instead, she kissed her husband back with even more passion. The years of neglect had finally caught up to her (believe it or not, she never took a lover), and she felt as if her body was consumed by fire.

The Prince was the only person able to put out the flames so that night, Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce finally lay together, consummating the marriage everyone deemed lost.

The next day they both woke up with a raging headache and full of regret, both threatened each other into secrecy. Despite them being married, no one could know.

Rhea had even gone as far as to drink moon tea behind Daemon’s back. She knew they both needed an heir for personal reasons and that it was her duty as a wife, but the thought of carrying a child scared her, especially one that would be tied to the crown.

The tea wasn’t as effective as it should’ve been though because three moons later she found out she was with child. It was too late to do anything about it so she accepted it with a wry smile, mentally preparing herself for Daemon’s reaction.

The reaction she got from him was once she could’ve never expected. He was shocked but not angry like she expected– she thought he would demand her to get rid of it or claim it a bastard– but Daemon was surprisingly happy.

He even went as far as to write to his brother, announcing he was to be a father and would like for him to lift his punishment so he could visit the dragon pit to pick up a dragon egg for his unborn babe.

At the news of the Rogue Prince and Rhea expecting a child, the realm was taken aback.

Never in their lives did they expect the couple to have any children together after seeing how much they disliked each other over the years.

Otto Hightower had even tried to convince Viserys that this was some kind of trickery, another of Daemon’s ploys, but he would be proven wrong when Rhea herself sent the news, validating her husband’s letter. The King was overjoyed, thinking his brother was finally maturing.

Elyssa Targaryen was born six moons later in the early months of 113 AC.

After eight grueling hours of labor, her piercing shrill cries filled the walls of Runestone, announcing her arrival to everyone in the vicinity.

A sweaty and bloodied Rhea had cried in joy as she held the crying newborn, a wave of protectiveness and love rushed through her as she stared down at her.

The maesters had announced she was a healthy little girl as Daemon entered the room, eyes glued to the tiny bundle in his wife’s arms. The moment he held her he promised to all of the Gods above that he would protect his little girl.

“What’s her name?” He asked a now clean and resting Rhea a few hours later. His eyes were still on the newborn he refused to let go who was off into dreamland. Rhea had smiled at the sight, never seeing that side of Daemon before.

“Elyssa” She whispered and Daemon felt his world stop. His eyes snapped to his wife, mouth agape. Rhea flushed at the sudden attention but held his gaze.

“I know we never see eye to eye Daemon,” She began, heart pounding erratically in her chest. “But I also know how much your mother meant to you. From what I heard over the years, Alyssa was an intelligent, strong, and caring person. I hope our daughter turns out to be just like her”

The Prince had teared up at Rhea’s words and he nodded wordlessly, tilting his head to the side as a sign of ‘thank you’ as he didn’t trust his voice at that moment.

The sound of cooing caught his attention and he looked down at his daughter who was now awake, peering up at him. Daemon was rendered speechless as he stared into her eyes.

Taking after her namesake, Elyssa had inherited her grandmother’s mismatched eyes– one violet and one green. The slivers of silver hair on her newborn head just tied it all together.

It was safe to say that the Prince was smitten with his little girl, holding onto her even when she slept, ignoring the attempts from the maids who were assuring him that the babe would be fine alone in a crib. It had taken Rhea (softly) prying her from his arms when it was time to feed her, promising that he would have her back in no time.

He was around her constantly, the only time he departed from her was to finally go to King’s Landing and retrieve a dragon egg for her.

Viserys had met him at the gates himself, congratulating his brother with a wide smile. Rhaenyra had also been there, a grin on her face at the sight of her happy uncle.

They tried to get him to stay a while, to celebrate, but he declined as he held on to the warm white dragon egg. He promised he would be back as soon as his little girl was ready and flew back to Runestone with Caraxes.

He kept his word and three months after her birth, Daemon flew back to King’s Landing with his daughter snuggly wrapped around his chest. Rhea wasn’t too far behind, her entourage was arriving on horseback.

She had almost fainted at the sight of her baby flying on the Blood Wyrm, but she knew it was Elyssa’s birthright no matter how much she disliked it. Besides, Daemon would never put her in harm's way.

Viserys had teared up at the sight of his niece, specifically the familiar eyes of his mother. For the first time in many years, he had pulled his brother into a tight embrace.

Rhaenyra had grown fond of her cousin immediately and she too was soon found to be glued to her side. She took it upon herself to show her around the Keep, reading to her under the tree, even introducing her to Syrax.

Otto watched the scene with a strained smile, congratulating the Prince and his wife with false enthusiasm. Daemon had practically sneered, challenging the man with a glare. Rhea had stepped in, thanking him with a small smile.

Alicent on the other hand couldn’t help but look upon the child with envy. A child who was merely three moons old and already had her husband wrapped around his fingers.

A child that wasn’t even his!

Why couldn’t he look upon their children the same way?

“It’s Rhaenyra all over again,” Her father spat later that night as they sat together in his rooms. He had a grim expression on his face, the child wouldn’t be a threat to the throne but she was Daemon’s spawn after all.

Speaking of, why couldn’t Rhaenyra do the same things she was doing for her cousin, for her own siblings? Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond were practically strangers to the oldest Princess.

Rhaenyra’s actions just further fueled Alicent’s fear of her killing her siblings when she ascended the throne.

Daemon and Rhea stayed in King’s Landing for three weeks before they both decided it was time to return to the Runestones. They had chalked it up to Rhea having to return to her duties and Daemon not wanting to leave his daughter, which was only half the truth.

The truth was that they couldn’t bear the tension with the Hightower’s any longer.

Daemon wasn’t scared of the man but he now had a daughter to think about. He knew the man wouldn’t touch a single strand of his daughter’s hair, not if he wanted to face both his and Viserys’ wrath, but the Rogue Prince also knew he would concoct whatever tale to make the King send him away.

Away from his daughter.

Rhea on the other hand couldn’t keep faking smiles and pleasantries toward the man and the Queen. She could see the poorly masked hate in their eyes– hate that wasn’t only reserved for Daemon anymore.

The Lady of the Runestone found herself daydreaming of slapping the smirk off of Otto Hightower’s mouth and dragging Alicent’s by the hair until she bled.

So they returned to Runestone and for two months everything was fine until Corlys requested Daemon’s presence in Driftmark. They needed him at the Stepstones and as much as he wanted to reject the Lord of the Tides, Daemon knew that by doing this he would prove himself to Viserys.

So, for Elyssa’s sake, he agreed.

Leaving his daughter behind with a kiss on the forehead and promises of returning soon, Daemon Targaryen went off to fight in the Stepstones.

For the next three years, Rhea raised her daughter to be both a true Targaryen and a Royce.

She sent ravens to Daemon almost weekly, detailing their daughter’s week and accomplishments. The Prince would try to reply when he could, always expressing his love for his little girl and promising that he would be back soon.

The dragon egg that Daemon had gotten for her had hatched in her crib when she was nearing her first name day.

Her nursemaid had found her babbling happy at the small creature who was staring back at her with its beady red eyes and rushed to wake up her Lady. Although weary, Rhea had been overjoyed and picked her up, peppering kisses on her chubby cheeks.

“You are indeed from the blood of the dragon,” She grinned as she stared down at the pure white dragon inside the crib with wonder. She often kept her distance around Caraxes, but the creature staring back at her was harmless. “What should we name her?” Rhea asked her daughter who was back to babbling something no one could understand.

She paused to think, wondering what Daemon would do at that moment. “How about Alina?” She asked again and this earned a giggle from the little girl.

Not long after that, Rhea had sent for a dragon keeper to not only care for the animal but also teach Elyssa High Valyrian, the language of her ancestors. She knew Daemon would want her to learn and by the age of two, the little girl could understand both the common tongue and Valyrian.

She couldn’t speak full sentences just yet, only using single words as her responses, but everyone could see how smart Elyssa was.

As smart as she was, the girl was also mischievous, reminding everyone that she was indeed the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

As soon as she learned to walk and run, she would sneak away from her nursemaids and go on adventures with her growing she-dragon. She would also sneak into the kitchens, stealing the sweets prepared for the day. Rhea would always scold her but Elyssa would just giggle in response, thinking it was the funniest thing in the world.

In the three years that they lived in the Runestone’s, Elyssa rarely made any appearances in King’s Landing much to Viserys’ disappointment.

Daemon and Rhea had agreed that she would not step foot in King’s Landing until she absolutely had to. With Daemon away fighting, Rhea never had the time to step away from her duties at Runestone and she refused to send the little girl by herself, not trusting the Hightower’s at all.

She knew Daemon held the same sentiment, he always made it known in his ravens. She knew if he heard Elyssa was alone in King’s Landing he would personally leave the Stepstones to get her himself.

Rhaenyra on the other hand would visit as much as she could, loving spending time with her cousin while also getting a break from the tension back at the castle.

With Daemon gone and Rhea being a Royce, Rhaenyra found it her responsibility to teach her cousin the Targaryen ways. In turn, Elyssa loved the older Princess. At the sound of the yellow dragon’s roar, Elyssa would rush out as fast as her small legs could carry her, shouting “Nyra!”.

The little girl was always excited at the sight of the older Princess, knowing it meant she would be able to ride Syrax. She didn’t have any memories of riding on Caraxes since she was too small then, but both Rhea and Rhaenyra made sure to tell her all about the Blood Wyrm and her father.

This bliss came to an end in 115 AC when Rhea Royce fell off her horse while on one of her usual hawking trips.

Elyssa had been engrossed in a High Valyrian book that the dragonkeeper was reading to her, when a servant frantically ran in, shouting that the Lady had a grave accident. The three-year-old was confused, not quite understanding what was going on but soon her nursemaids came in to collect her.

A few hours later, Elyssa was allowed to see her mother. Rhea had been pale, a red-soaked gauze wrapped around the injury in her head. The little girl whimpered at the sight, knowing something was wrong.

Rhaenyra had arrived in the early morning the next day after receiving the news. It didn’t take convincing Viserys to let her go for the King wanted to go himself but knew he couldn’t due to his duties.

Nine days later, Rhea Royce succumbed to her injuries and met the Stranger. Elyssa had been curled on her unconscious side, listening to Rhaenyra’s soft voice as she read a book to her.

The young Princess had remained by her mother’s side the entire time, refusing to leave and crying when her nursemaids attempted to take her away. She had been clutching onto her pale and cold hands when Rhea took her last breath.

Despite being three, Elyssa knew that something was deeply wrong when her mother’s chest stopped moving.

She knew something was deeply wrong when her nursemaids began to weep and the maester bowed his head. She knew something was wrong when just the next day, her mother’s wrapped body lay inside a pyre before being engulfed in Syrax’s flames.

The older Princess held onto the younger tightly, watching the scene in front of her with sad eyes. She knew all too well the pain of losing a mother.

She brought Elyssa back to King’s Landing with her and the news reached the Stepstones a few days later.

All it took was receiving a raven informing him of his wife’s death and his daughter’s presence in King’s Landing for Daemon to bring the war at the Stepstones to an end.

With a victory under his belt, the Rogue Prince set out to return to King’s Landing, eager to finally be with his daughter whom he hadn’t seen in three years.

He knew Rhaenyra would protect her from Otto and Alicent; the letters from Rhea told him that she had practically become his daughter’s temporary guardian. But he needed to be there himself, so after tiredly flying and taking breaks in between, Daemon and Caraxes finally arrived.

He had to present himself to Viserys first, so after offering him the makeshift crown he had received for his victory in front of the crowded court and being congratulated on his accomplishment, he spotted his daughter in his niece’s arms.

Rhaenyra carrying his daughter in her arms was a sight to behold and it stirred something inside of the Rogue Prince.

A smile no one had ever seen come from him broke out on his face as he strode toward the two Princesses. Rhaenyra’s gaze on him was heated, the feeling of desire swirling in her gut.

Daemon swept his daughter into his arms and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. He shot Rhaenyra a smirk before turning his attention back to his now much bigger daughter.

Elyssa stared back at him with a confused gaze for a few seconds, trying to remember who he was supposed to be.

“Issa byka zaldrīzes, gōntan ao miss aōha kepa?” (my little dragon, did you miss your father?)

The little Princess grinned, a happy shriek escaping her lips as the words registered in her brain. Rhaenyra had laughed, reaching out to smooth the back of the babe’s hair, gaze filtering between her cousin and her uncle. Elyssa’s tiny chubby hands reached to grab at Daemon’s short silver locks.

Viserys watched the scene in front of him with a wide smile, happy to see his family back together and not thinking anything deeper than that. Otto on the other hand watched the scene with calculating eyes.

The King was convinced his brother had changed — until the next day when the news of Daemon and Rhaenyra visiting a whorehouse in Flea Bottom reached him from none other than Otto Hightower.

“Wed her to me,” Daemon rasped out from his place on the ground, his silver hair mussed messily on his head. Viserys stared down at him, nose wrinkled in disgust. “When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Rhaenyra. I'll take her as she is, and wed her in the tradition of our house” He continued, eyes pleading with his brother.

Viserys scoffed down at him, “Your wife just died! You also have a daughter, I will not disgrace my daughter like that” The King refused. Daemon frowned at his words but didn’t move.

“Rhaenyra loves Elyssa, everyone can see it!” Daemon argued and Viserys knew he was right. His daughter had been taken with her cousin, her frequent visits to Runestone and the way she tended to the child after bringing her back showed him so. “Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory” Daemon continued as he spotted the thoughtful look on his brother’s face.

Whatever Viserys was thinking shattered at his words and he began to glare.

“Of course. It's not my daughter you lust for, is it? It’s my throne” Viserys’ face was red with anger.

Why couldn’t his brother see that he had long given the notion of being King? That he truly cared for the future of their house?

“Go back to the Vale, Daemon, and pray that you raise your daughter to be better than you are,” He spat, venom laced in his tone. It took everything in Daemon to not flinch back. “Strive to restore whatever scrap of honor remains in you. Or don't. Matters not to me. As long as you are gone from my sight for good”

Daemon watched with a defeated expression as the King walked away, “As you wish, brother”

Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryan had been wed by the end of the week much to Daemon’s displeasure.

He had attended the wedding despite his brother’s warnings and that’s where he laid eyes on Laena Velaryon who was a woman grown now. They had danced and flirted together. Laena had even asked about Elyssa, wondering if she would be able to meet the little girl her cousin had spoken so much about.

Laena was beautiful and kind. From the moment they met gazes, he could feel the attraction. Laena was the type of person he could fall in love with, the type of person that Elyssa could view as a second mother.

That night, Daemon knew what he needed to do.

Damn Viserys and his rules.

The Rogue Prince asked the girl for her hand and she had happily agreed. They wed in secret a few days later without anyone’s knowledge. By the time everyone had realized what had happened, Daemon and his new wife were on their way to Pentos.

Daemon rode Caraxes, a happy Elyssa strapped in front of him. Laena rode next to him on her dragon Vhagar. Alina, still too small to be ridden, flew above them. The small she-dragon was chirping in happiness just like her rider, trying her best to keep up with the much bigger dragon’s speed.

No one in King's Landing would lay eyes on Prince Daemon and his daughter Elyssa until many years later.

400 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 4 months

Text

— teach me how to break you

Sugar Daddy Aemond x Fem!Reader

Summary: Exhausted, trying to balance college student life with multiple shifts working at the small bookstore to make ends meet, you find yourself completely turned upside down when a platinum-haired CEO turns his attention to you.

Anne's note: this story is based on this request from a dear anon. Thanks for this and I hope you like it ;)

Dividers: @v6que

Visual inspiration for Aemond - @catb0yfriend

Rating: Explicit +18

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

English is not my first language.

Some days, you feel like you're living through pivotal days and never paying enough attention to notice. The days came and went, a constant grind of collegework and double shifts that are so monotonous you would have believed someone had just copied and pasted it into your life. A repetition of more of the same. There were certainly some variations in the faces that passed through the little bookstore you work at, but for every memorable customer there was at least one regular to remind you that your life is subject to an endless routine.

There was only one face that broke the monotonous cycle of your life: a customer with white hair, wearing an eye patch and a gaze so blue that it almost looks purple under the store's warm lights.

Unlike most regular customers, who religiously stop by on their breaks from college and work, his appearance didn't seem to be planned. Sometimes you held your breath and twisted your fingers around each other wondering when he would arrive – because he always appeared at some point. Not every day of couse, after all, no one reads a book a day. But at least once a week.

That your break from the monotony depended on the arrival of an unpredictable customer is not lost on you, but there is something about him that always makes your heart stop. He's unfairly handsome, so much so that you almost forgot how the gift of speech worked the first time he appeared. You never exchanged words other than book requests and recommendations, and that's okay. Judging by the suits and clothes he always wore, it's obvious that he is stupidly rich and way out of your league.

But that didn't stop your heart from stuttering every time he walked through the door, practically exuding wealth and power just by his gait, someone clearly used to commanding an entire room. He always asked your opinion on what he should read this time, so you usually already had your lines planned for when he showed up.

“Good morning, sir”, you used to greet him, already with a book in your hands, ready to start your little, rehearsed speech about why he should really read it.

To which he usually curls his lips into something that looks more like a smirk than a real smile, but is dazzling nonetheless. He would take the book from your smaller hands, not even bothering to leaf through it to see if it was really worth buying (his confidence in your recommendation always made your breathing quicken) and say: “Thank you for this, princess.”

That had always been the extent of the conversation between the two of you, and maybe you were imagining things, but with each passing day it seemed like the heat in his blue eye seemed to grow, the quirk of his lips getting closer to something more genuine.

Breaking the sameness of your days depended on this man. But when he left, you went back to drowning in that sea of repetition and boredom.

But just when you thought you were really going to succumb to the drudgery and exhausting work your life has become, something happens to finally break your routine. A phone call, coming right after your lunch break, where the customer flow is low enough to leave your manager running the store alone, who smiles permissibly.

You enter the back room, frowning when you see the call is from your landlord.

"Hello?"

“Hello, Miss Y/N. This phone call will be accompanied by an email and a letter so you have everything in writing, but I am calling to let you know in advance that we will be increasing the rent on all rentals next month.”

You sigh and close your eyes tightly. "How much will this increase be?"

“For your rent, there will be a monthly increase of 30% of the current value.”

God. You could barely survive on rent, uni bills and daily expenses, and that amount would be almost an entire extra week of work.

“I know times are tough right now, Miss Y/N, that’s why I wanted to give you as much notice as possible. I'm very sorry."

“Thanks for letting me know,” you mumble, not feeling the least bit grateful. You hang up the phone, trying to take a deep breath to regain your composure before getting back to work.

You were doing your best not to panic, wondering how you could afford the rent increase. You were living paycheck to paycheck and didn't have enough saved for a deposit to move somewhere more affordable.

Your head was going crazy, and even though you had tried to get back into customer service, your manager, Catelyn, seemed to understand everything.

“You got some bad news back there, I presume?”

You bit your lip. “Would it be possible to increase my shifts at the store?”

“Increase your shifts?” Catelyn repeated in disbelief. “Honey, you already work twice as hard almost every day. You’re working yourself to the bone as it is.”

“Maybe I could take sundays?”

The older woman narrows her green eyes. “This is your only day off a week, Y/N. When will you have time for uni?”

“I know, I know...but they just raised my rent, Catelyn,” you said calmly, willing your voice not to crack. “I won’t be able to pay uni and rent any other way.”

Your manager pursed her lips. “Let me check the books, maybe we can give you a pay raise. I’ll try everything I can to help, girl.”

You almost lose your grip on your knees at the wave of relief that rushes through your body. “Thank you, Catelyn, really.”

The older woman clicks her tongue, offering you a motherly pinch on your cheek before she slips behind the store, leaving the customer management to you.

You look down the aisles of books, cheeks burning when you realize that he is standing near one of the shelves, blue gaze boring into you intensely. You blush from the roots of your hair to your toes, plastering an apologetic smile on your face.

"My apologies for the wait, sir, I'll show you what I've set aside for you today."

You take on the task of showing him a book you think would interest him, grateful for the distraction and the excuse to duck your head out of his sight, praying he hasn't heard too much of your conversation with Catelyn. The most embarrassing situation of your life.

When you slide behind the counter to collect payment, the real value of the book is replaced by one brilliant Benjamin Franklin. At first, you don't mind, taking the bill from his fingers as you politely ask, "How would you like your change back, sir?"

“Keep it,” he said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

You paused, blinking your eyes wide. Astonished. “You don’t have to do that, sir. It’s very generous, but there’s no need.”

He just smiles, a subtle stretch of his lips, but this one is much more genuine than the others. "I insist. See you next week, princess."

Completely stunned, you split the $100 into the correct change, adding it to the tip jar. “Okay,” you murmur, touched by a stranger’s generosity.

That was until he tried it again the following week.

“Sir, I really can’t accept this,” you say firmly. “It’s very generous.”

He raises a perfectly groomed blond brow. “From what I heard last week, it sounds like you need some extra help.”

“I’m not looking for a benefactor,” you say immediately, cheeks flushing at the assurance that he had heard everything. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting that kind of money from a stranger.”

He just smiles and extends his hand. A large hand, with long fingers adorned with rings that were probably worth more than your apartment, veins high on his pale skin. “Aemond.”

"Sorry?"

“Aemond Targaryen. My name. So now we’re not strangers, right?”

You couldn't help your small laugh of disbelief, reaching out your own smaller hand to shake his. “I'm afraid that knowing your name does little to change the fact that you are a stranger to me.”

It takes him a moment to let go of your hand, and you cough a little to cover it up, shaking your head and handing the change back to him, but you can do little about the fact that he immediately puts the change in the tip jar and continues on his way to the door without saying anything else. Leaving behind only a gentle sway of his long silver ponytail down his back.

The next time he walks in, you point your finger at him threateningly, which he seems to find very amusing, if the raise of his brows and the small smile on his lips said anything. “I won’t recommend any book to you until you promise me you won’t leave me a tip, sir.”

He just tilts his head to the side. “That’s unconventional, I must say.”

You look at him with a heavy gaze, and with a sigh, he relents, raising his palms peacefully. “I promise I won’t tip you, princess. Better that way?"

You huff and turn your face so your hair covers your cheeks, to hide how red you get every damn time he calls you that way. But as you turn towards one of the shelves, you could swear you hear him laughing.

When it was time to get paid, to your relief, he actually didn't tip you. He just squints at you and says, “See you next week, princess.”

In fact, next week, Aemond returns to pay the actual value of the product, much to your peace of mind and his seemingly endless fun. And while you can control the overly generous customer – who at least now has a name – there's still the dilemma of being able to pay your rent and uni bills.

Honestly, sometimes it feels like you're going crazy.

“Would you still say we are complete strangers to each other?” he asks you on a wednesday afternoon.

“Yes, I still consider you one,” you state, raising an brow, your heart slightly racing as it always does in this man’s intense presence.

“What can I do to change this?” Aemond asks, leaning forward. That voice was like sex and sin and made the salivary glands in the back of your mouth yearn for more. He still hadn't paid for the new book – even though there was no one in row of payment, it makes you nervous, as you don't have any excuse to avoid the conversation. “Can I take you to dinner, maybe?”

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't tempted. But… “Honestly, Aemond, my schedule is crazy. I barely have time to eat a cereal bar, let alone go out to dinner.”

His lips twitched, as if trying not to smile. You can't even imagine what could have been amusing about what you said, but at least he finally handed you the money.

“I think I like it better when you call me sir.”

Something about the implication of those words made you feel like you'd swallowed a hummingbird, and it was still fluttering in your chest. Once again, you pray your blush isn't obvious when you hand him back his change, barely paying attention as he drops it into the tip jar and leaves.

You sigh shakily, allowing yourself to look from beneath your lashes at the man's broad back as he walks away. An arm with defined muscles is raised as his cell phone rings, straining gently against the thin, immaculately pressed white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow as the man begins talking on the phone. Silver hair swinging down the length of his back in its loose style today. Your eyes trail down his other arm which is buried deep in a dark blue pocket of expensive looking pants, pulling the material over the prettiest ass you had ever seen in your life. The man walked with a purposeful swagger that exuded so much confidence that it always left you weak in the knees.

Aemond Targaryen is an unattainable dream.

Totally out of your league.

"What are you reading?"

Your heart skips a beat as you close the book cover with a loud snap, struggling to push it under your chest as you turn to look into your customer's blue eye. Aemond's smile is damning on the best of days, but directed at you now, in this specific situation, as he eclipses the soft light of the hallway entrance behind him - it makes your stomach tighten.

You're still at work, but the book you wanted finally arrived at the store and you couldn't resist reading a little, taking advantage of the slow moving hours...

"No!" You widen your eyes and try to hold the thing in your fingers. But it's too late. Your breath catches against your chest as Aemond pulls the book up and towards him.

“A Court Of Silver Flames, hmm? Princess, I must say I didn’t know you enjoyed this kind of reading.”

You squirm in embarrassment, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth when he effortlessly opens the page you marked and were reading before he caught you in the act. Your face burns, your lips open and then close in abject horror as Aemond's single eye scans the filthy words of the book. His smile is particularly mischievous as he mutters: 'Cassian pounded into her, a hand moving from her hip to her hair, tugging her head back, baring her throat. She gave herself over to it, to him, and the lack of control was so heady, so pleasurable that she could barely stand it. He thrust harder, so deep with this angle that she might have been screaming again, she might have been crying.' - Y/N, darling...I'm blushing."

“You – this, this is none of your business.” you grumble with a frown, trying to reach for the book as he stifles a laugh at the sight of your futile effort. "Besides, I can read whatever I want. I'm an adult."

The smile slowly diminishes on his pretty lips until there is only a slightly mischievous line left, something that is hardly comforting. Dangerous. Even hungry.

"You're absolutely right." He hums slowly, closing the book and holding it out for you to take with a raise of his brow. "You're a big girl, right?" You lift your head to look at him, meeting his warm gaze. The way he asked that question, God. Low and almost animalistic, like a predator that is just stalking its prey. Playing before attacking.

You swallow hard and for a moment both just look at each other. His blue glow is dark as he studies your face with interest, searching for something you can't even begin to guess what it is. Finally, you shyly look away from him and turn to face your collection of books.

“Are you looking for anything in particular tonight, sir?” you ask, deliberately trying to change the subject, not supporting the tense atmosphere that had formed between the two of you.

He hums contently and you feel his gaze finally move away, allowing you to breathe once more. You smooth your hands over the folds of your skirt in an effort to stop the trembling in your fingers.

"Yes, actually yes. There. Pride and Prejudice, the first edition," Aemond states, bending down a little to point to one of the novels stacked among the others. “I'm looking to complete my collection of Austen's works. 'I'll be unhappy if I don't have an excellent library.'”

Oh.

“Huh, I didn’t take you as a Jane Austen type of guy,” you joke, lightly bumping your hip against the side of the bookshelf. “Although I think you can identify with some of the characters. ‘A single man possessing a good fortune’ and all that.”

He laughs softly, standing up straight and looking back at you. “What can I say? I have a bit of a weakness for classic romance.”

"You? A romantic?" You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes at him. “I would really like to see that.” your comment is provocative and amusing, spoken only to lighten the mood. But Aemond doesn't see it that way, apparently.

He stays quiet. Something undeniably shifts in the air as he slowly takes a step towards you to close the distance between the two of you. You look up at him with a shaky sigh and lean against the shelf with an awkward, unsure step as he lowers his head slightly towards you. He looks at you intently. Closely.

"You could?"

You find yourself backing further and further into the shelf behind, your breathing quickening. His arm slides to your side, pinning you against the stacks of books, the long black coat held in the crook of his other arm. You feel his all-masculine weight pressed against you. A delicious and unmistakable aroma of fresh mint, as well as something woody and earthy, envelops your senses like a soft blanket.

“M-Maybe,” you murmur, your slightly wide eyes sweeping over every inch of his inhumanly perfect face, his mysterious eye patch. His soft lips come so close to yours that you can feel him exhale. You close your eyes, preparing to feel his mouth on yours, but instead you feel his face brush against your cheek and you feel his warm breath brush past your ear.

“I could show you,” he purrs as you melt against him - like he’s not a stranger and like you’re not on your fucking work schedule. “I could take care of you, princess. In many, many ways. I would like to do that. I just do things a little...differently than the traditional way,” the last sentence leaving it like a whisper, like a secret. Every inch of your skin tingles as all of your body's feelings seem to focus on the spot between your legs. Your back arches and your nipples ache, straining where his broad chest crushes against yours. You tilt your head back, resting it on the shelf behind, exposing your neck to him. You shudder as you feel his warm bottom lip barely touching the sensitive skin there, a gentle whisper from a caring lover - or a cruel tease from a wicked man. The smallest of moans escape your lips.

And then, he stops.

Aemond straightens his posture and removes his arm from your side. The black turtleneck sweater perfectly hugs his upper body as he straightens up, the dark pants emphasizing the generous length of his legs. He runs his hand through the smooth, silver length of his hair once and takes a deep breath. As if he was seeking some sense of calm. You shiver and swallow hard, your eyes traveling over the pale expanse of his forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater, the veins beneath his skin, the chain around his neck, the expensive watch on his wrist, the long fingers studded with rings...

He's so 'man' it makes your legs weak. If that made any sense.

“But don’t worry, I promise I won’t touch you until I have your legal permission. After all, we need to talk before that,” he states slowly. "Right?" his intense blue gaze refocusing on yours.

You fidget nervously against the bookshelf, playing with the hem of your skirt, your heart beating fast like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Talk about what?" You manage to ask, even though your mind is spinning at the man's unexpected proximity.

He seems to think a little.

"How have you been?" He asks genuinely after a few seconds of silence, looking at you with some concern. “Is college going well? Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Sleep? What is that?" you joke to lighten the mood, though the stern expression doesn’t leave Aemond’s face. You continue: “College is fine. I took two tests this week, but I'm satisfied with my performance. I studied a lot over the weekend.”

“Between the few breaks between working several shifts in a row, you mean,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “You really need to take care of yourself, Y/N. I'm worried about you."

You feel a small tug in your chest as you smile softly. He's worried about you. He, this man oozing wealth and experience from his pores, is thinking of you.

“I could help, you know,” he continues, staring at you and all you can see on his face is sincerity.

What is he looking for, anyway?

"Like what?" you ask, almost shaking with anticipation. You look up to meet his gaze, the air between the two of you becoming almost thick with anticipation.

“As you've probably guessed, I have an abundance of wealth,” he states matter-of-factly, as if asserting that the sky is blue, “but not much to spend it on. So I met you a few months ago." You swallow hard as Aemond continues, “The truth is, I'd like to make sure you're being taken care of, Y/N. It would mean a lot to me if you allowed me to do that."

“What do you mean,” you ask anxiously, “by 'taken care of’?”

“I want to ensure that your college expenses will be taken care of in full,” he replies confidently when you almost choke on your saliva, “both the remaining tuition and loan balance, as well as rent and any other bills you may owe. You would also receive a weekly allowance, which would allow you to just focus on finishing your course without having to work. Although I believe you enjoy working here and don't want to give up all your shifts. Anyway, that should start to cover the bases, right?"

"To start? What else could you want to say?!” you exclaim breathlessly, looking at him in disbelief.

He laughs softly, “Well, princess, there are gifts I would like to give you from time to time. I would really like to provide anything you want or need. Clothes, shoes, books,” he smiles along with the last word. “Anything that makes you happy. I want you to feel comfortable.”

You notice that your mouth has been dry, open easily for a good full minute. You urgently need a glass of water.

Why you? What does he gain from this? What does he want in return?

“And all of this would be in exchange for…?” you question, waiting for the decisive follow-up.

“Your company.” He responds, slowly and seriously. You raise an eyebrow at his response, your stomach sinking with a sensation that is both warm and cold.

The talk comes to a pause when your cell phone screams, startling you and indicating the store's closing time. You shake your head.

"I-I need to close the store. Do you mind...could you...?" Even the words are jumbled in your mind.

"Don't worry. I'll wait." Aemond smiles understandably, stepping aside so you could begin the closing routine.

The gaze is on you every step of the way, from the moment you check the cash register, to when you pick up the keys to lock the door.

“Allow me...” He whispers when you finish and grab your coat, the chilly breeze outside sending goose bumps across your skin. You nod shyly, letting him help you put on your coat, his fingers lingering a little longer than they should on your skin. "How do you plan to get home?"

Nervousness churns in your stomach as the two of you walk down the sidewalk, your hand just inches from his. The breeze hits the sensitive skin of your ears, though you can't do anything but focus on the strange wall of heat between the two of you, arms close enough to accidentally brush every now and then. Or is it on purpose?

"Uber." You answer.

"I think so. Come on, my driver will drop you off at home." He doesn't really give you time to respond, but you still gasp when you suddenly feel the gentle presence of his sizable hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards a stupidly modern black car. He nods to the driver, who politely opens the back door for the two of you to get in.

The interior of the car is cozy and as sophisticated as the outside, with a partition that separates the place where you are and the driver.

You mumble your address and Aemond repeats it to the driver, using an internal type of communication.

Aemond Targaryen is like Bruce freaking Wayne.

Not wanting to drop the previous topic, you whisper hesitantly, “So…exactly what does ‘my company’ entail in this case?”

“Of course,” he continues, chuckling lightly at you for returning to the subject of your own free will. “I would like to see you three times a week at least. Our time together will be treated with the utmost privacy. My priority is to keep you protected from the public eye. All power in this arrangement begins and ends with you, Y/N. You can choose to break the contract at any time. At that point, you can keep anything given to you, and all canceled debts will remain that way, without any refund.”

“And during the time we spent together?” you question, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Any activity of a sexual nature,” he responds, his blue gaze suddenly a little darker, “will be confidential and, most importantly, consensual. I've already asked my lawyer to email you the paperwork."

How the hell did he know your email?!

His head is spinning. Paperwork? Activity of a sexual nature? This all seems intimidating, yet somehow you remain intrigued. Curious.

“Don’t worry,” he states calmly, his hand resting on top of yours. Your panic must have been noticeable. You look up and see him looking at you gently. He resumes: “Paperwork it's like a protection for both of us. It's a basic confidentiality agreement, along with some negotiation about what you would feel most comfortable with. As I said before, if you choose this, I want you to be able to leave at any time without any losses. I've seen too many relationships destroyed by fame and notoriety. I don’t want this to hurt you too.”

You can already feel like you're going to say yes.

You look at him shyly as he removes his hand and settles next to you on the bench. You remember when you felt his warm breath on your neck in the back of the bookstore. His smell. Of the silver hair. You want that if it means being with him. If it means you can prove what he can offer. And on top of all that, you would still be taken care of, your debts would be paid off, and the weight of possibly being homeless would finally be lifted from your mind and shoulders. You can feel your body practically taking advantage of the opportunity, but you hold back for one more question.

"Have you done this before?" You ask, feeling some strange kind of jealousy bubbling in your stomach. “Were there others?”

You can see some concern behind his one eye as he hesitates, but then he blinks and replies, “Yes. There were two others. The first only lasted a few months. She only agreed to the deal to get “to the top,” so to speak. As soon as I realized that she had tried to leak confidential information to the press about our relationship, I immediately terminated our agreement.”

"And the other?" You press, brow furrowed in concern.

“The second one lasted about a year,” Aemond responds. “She chose to end the arrangement out of love, after meeting her now husband. We respectfully agreed to end things so she could move forward with this connection. It’s been a few years since we split up.”

This raises another important question.

“Huh, how old are you?” you ask, tilting your head.

Aemond snorts in amusement.

"Thirty-two."

Okay, ten years apart. It is not a big deal.

“I…” you mutter thoughtfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’d like to give you some time to think about this,” Aemond suggests, as you stare at your hands. “How about 48 hours? You can review the paperwork and contact me with any questions you may have.”

You turn your head to look at him, lip between your teeth as you assess his countenance. After all, he could just be messing with you, and you could die of embarrassment if you agreed only to find out he was making fun at your expense. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable, however. It's enough to warm you deeply as you watch him watch you, his desire so palpable it leaves you breathless. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips and his eye go to your mouth.

This is the exact moment you abandon all reason and nod, a silent response to his offer of help.

“Yes,” you declare, quickly, hastily. “I mean, my answer. Yes. I'm in."

“Y/N,” he raises a blonde brow at you charmingly, something seductive behind his gaze. “I insist that you use the full 48 hours. I want to know that if you agree to this, when I have you, I will have all of you. No hesitation. Undoubtedly."

When I have you. Heat rises up the sides of your neck at the implication of those words. No hesitation.

“But -” you almost whimper, fingers tightening on the hem of your skirt.

“Y/N,” he utters in a low, deep tone, leaning toward your ear and placing a firm, warm hand on your knee. You feel goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms. "Think about it calmly. Be a good girl for me, huh?"

You freeze and a small moan leaves your lips. He smiles at you seductively, his finger brushes the soft skin of your cheek and your breath catches. His smile is almost imperceptible, but it's there. Like a feline cornering a prey.

So close you can smell his cologne again. Mint and sandalwood. You think it suits him, like a dark forest, but fresh and refined. You swallow hard, wishing that blue/violet gaze, so austere, would look anywhere else. You feel completely overwhelmed by his intensity, and he was making it impossible to think straight.

“I think you’re doing this on purpose.” You whisper into the tiny space between the two of you.

“Doing what on purpose?” He practically purrs the words.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of the situation that was coursing through your veins, but you find yourself blurting out, “Trying to make me regret your promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

His predatory expression doesn't change. "And do you regret my promise?"

It's a step too far for you to actually admit, but your silence is, in fact, admission enough. The smile that appears on his face makes you blush, especially when he leans in so close you can feel his breath, his mouth hovering right next to your ear.

“I take my promises very seriously, princess.” His voice is low, with a scratch so sensual it almost made you whimper. “So, I will keep my hands to myself until such time as our contract is properly signed. But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

You what?

He walks away with a wink, leaving you stunned as you contemplates his offer.

Would it be inappropriate to pursue something with him? It's too early? But to deny that you've wanted him from the moment he walked into the bookstore, when he seemed like a fantasy far out of your reach - would be a blatant lie. It's obvious he has money. A stupid amount of it, more than you'd see in your entire life, probably. It's also obvious that he likes you. It's not that bad to accept his stupidly luxurious gestures if you like him too, right? In a list of immoral things, don't you think this is the worst. You would not be compromising your core values.

You bite your bottom lip.

“You’re driving me crazy doing this,” he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts to see his gaze fixed on the way you’re biting your lip. He closes his eye for a few seconds and then looks at you again. “I have no expectations or demands for you, dear. I just want to help and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman I've admired for a long time, so I can get to know you a little better."

"How much time?" you find yourself asking.

“From the moment I walked into that bookstore and looked into those beautiful bright eyes. For your cute skirts and funny colored sweaters. You are stunning, princess.”

No one has ever described her that way.

“Tell me something about how you feel about me,” he asked; in his honeyed and serious tone. "Just one thing."

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for the truth you've never spoken out loud before, to anyone. “I-I wait for you to come in almost every day. I know it's silly because we barely talked before, but...every time the store bell rings I look up hoping it's you, and I'm disappointed when it's not."

He digests your words calmly.

“It’s not just me then,” he breathes after a few seconds.

“No,” you whisper, barely believing it. "It is not."

You barely notice that the car is stopping, having probably already arrived at your apartment building, what has settled between the two of you is something dense and heavy, too heavy to allow you to pay attention to your surroundings. It almost feels suffocating. Your eyes meet and you almost read the challenge that shines in his. The look that seems to say: 'are you bold enough, darling?'

Really, how many times have you made the safer choice because it was convenient? Because it was less scary? You could probably count on one hand how many risks you've taken in your life and none of them had as much to gain as the risk that was currently in front of you, smiling as if he had read your decision before you even made it.

Because all it took was a single movement of his tall body to adjust himself better on the expensive upholstery of the car, and you were in his lap. "I should be worried about you putting your hands on me, apparently." He breathes a laugh.

You playfully touch the long chain resting on his chest, sliding your fingers along it until touch the fabric of the sweater collar around his neck. "Are you saying you want me to take my hands off, sir?"

He hums, slowly and low.

“Far from it, darling. I want those hands and that pretty mouth anywhere you want to put them.”

At this point, you hardly need more encouragement than that. The fabric is pulled down, revealing the pale skin of his collarbone that you immediately trace with your mouth, leaving soft stains of your strawberry lipbalm that you're sure he'd wear as badges of honor. Aemond grunts in approval, tilting his head to offer you better access to his neck, so that's where your lips meet next. Then your teeth. Then your tongue.

You can taste a slightly salty taste on his skin, almost as addictive as his cologne, which is strongest where your face presses against his pulse. Your hands search the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his sweater. You pull away from his neck, smiling shyly at the love bite you left behind before meeting Aemond's intoxicating gaze. His hands are fisted tightly in the upholstery of the bench.

“I may have promised to behave, baby,” he reflects slowly. “But I will remember every little bruise you leave for me. Just in case I have the opportunity to pay it forward for them. So be careful right now."

You wonder, suddenly, if his fists are clenched as a form of self-control. Anticipation flows like an earthquake throughout your body.

He watches you very carefully as your smile evolves into something more teasing, something more sly and decidedly cheeky, but when you bend down to continue your bites, he clicks his tongue in the same way an adult would scold a child. A warning. A sound that begs not to be ignored. Part of you is tempted to press on, just to see what he would do, but the other...the other wants to hear him call you a good girl again. Then you blink your eyes apologetically and gently kiss the small bruise on his smooth alabaster skin.

“Good decision, baby, being a such good girl for me. I'll remember that too."

You couldn’t help but love the implication that there would be more, that Aemond was already planning what he would do to you when that happened. You have a sneaking suspicion that he won't have that much control then, a sneaking suspicion that this man definitely wouldn't take on any submissive role - in any aspect of his life.

You lean forward, fingers on the soft fabric of his sweater once again as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck, moving up to his ear, breathing hotly against his skin until you feel him goose bumps.

You pinch his lobe. “And what do I get for being a good girl?”

His lips twitch into a teasing smile. “A bold question for someone who is supposed to be a good girl, don't you think? But you’re still learning what I like, I suppose.”

You hum something sweet and soothing, submissive. “And what exactly do you like, daddy?”

Aemond immediately goes rigid beneath you, and for a moment you panic. Were you wrong when you said that? It felt so natural that the word slipped out completely before you could think more clearly. But then Aemond practically growls as he spreads his knees beneath you, forcing you to move until you're straddling a single leg of his.

“Good girls can ride daddy’s thigh.”

He pushes his leg up until you shudder, applying pressure to your clit that almost makes you cry.

He continues, as if he isn't just rubbing the defined muscle of his thigh against your pussy. “Forgive me,” he says, his face lowering to the side of your neck, “but I have to…”

Your eyes close as he approaches. You expect to feel his lips finally meet your skin, but once again, he stops short of reaching. Instead, he inhales deeply, right under your ear.

“Vanilla,” he murmurs against your skin. You lean your head back even further, your skin begging for his touch. “And cinnamon.”

You whimper, rubbing gently against his thigh, breathless.

“You,” you whisper, pulling the hem of your skirt up, "aren't you going to kiss me?"

You watch his jaw tighten and his expression turn hard as he stares out the window for a second. “Fuck, girl. I already said that I prefer to wait until everything is resolved. I want you to be fully aware of everything this entails, everything you are getting yourself into, before you get any further involved with me.”

You can't think of anything you'd like more than to be involved in every position with him.

“But I said yes,” you lament. Driven purely by desire, you rest your hands just above both of his shoulders, lips tracing the outside of his ear. “I want you, daddy. You do not want me?"

He groans beneath you and you can feel him lift his hands, reaching out to touch you but stopping just before they come into contact with your back. Instead, he pushes them back down, one hand gripping the door handle for dear life while the other closes his fist against the seat once more.

“Yes, shit, yes” he grinds through clenched teeth. “I want you so bad, Y/N. But I can't. Not yet. I want to do this right.”

"Do you really want me?" You whimper, inches away from his mouth, pressing yourself firmly against his leg, seeking any kind of friction.

“Y/N,” he moans as you grind against him, the thin, wet cotton of your panties barely acting as a barrier between his thigh and your sex. "Can't you feel how much I want you, baby? You have no fucking idea. I want to do eviel things to your little body. I've been showing so much restraint. You can't fucking say that?"

Holy hell.

It's true, you think. You can feel him, hard and thick against his black pants, as you press into him. Your nipples harden against your breasts as you move faster, gripping the back of the seat for support as the tension builds inside you. You've never had a partner this big before and you briefly wonder if you can fit him in your mouth. You were certainly tempted to try.

"Already drooling on daddy's cock, baby?" he murmurs, noticing the look in your eyes. “My fucking God, you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? You barely finished riding my thigh and you already wants more."

His words make you blush. You're close, though. Especially if he keeps talking like that. The noises that escape you as you writhe against his thigh, staring at the shape of his cock and imagining what it would feel like inside you...The sounds were mortifying, to say the least, but the swirling desire in Aemond's gaze says he likes them.

Your breath begins to hitch as your pleasure gets closer and closer to that sweet pinnacle, his muscular thigh providing the perfect amount of pressure. You tilt your head back and moan, long and loud, as you snake your hand to pinch your nipple through your bra.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his breathing only slightly uneven, but his hands are clenched painfully at his sides. “Are you going to cum like this, princess? Rubbing your wet pussy against me in the back of my car? All because you can't just wait until you sign a simple piece of paper?”

“Oh my god,” you scream silently, something thrilling about someone being mere feet away from the two of you, behind the partition, as Aemond whispers the dirtiest words into your ear.

Aemond snapped his fingers as you felt yourself reaching the edge, and it drew your attention back to him as your legs shook. His blue gaze was burning. “Look at daddy when you come get me. Say my name, baby."

“Aemond,” you moan, the word barely formed as you rub desperately against his leg. You scream as the pleasure peaks, and the warm white light of the stars floods your veins.

“Daddy,” you pant, as Aemond takes over the work for you, moving his thigh to bring you to orgasm until you half collapse against him, burying your face in his shoulder as he continues moving his leg. “S-sir, please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“It’s too much,” you complain, shaking now as Aemond begins to stimulate you right after your orgasm.

“You can do it,” he encourages. "Don't you want to be a good girl for daddy?"

“I want it,” you whimper.

He hums thoughtfully. “I know you want it, Y/N. Maybe you can do something else for daddy, then. To make up for the mess you made on my thigh.”

With his thigh pressure now easing, you could have sobbed with relief. You sit up, watching with renewed interest as he runs his fingers through the wet spot on his pants and promptly brings it to his lips.

You gasp and he sucks on his fingers with a flourish that could belong to a satisfied customer at a fancy restaurant, smiling at you. “You are absolutely delicious, baby. Exactly as I expected."

You might have fainted if you didn't feel like you were already at the point of no return.

“Now,” said Aemond, sliding the full intensity of his gaze to your parted lips. “How would you feel if you tasted daddy in return, huh?”

You had been thinking about it since the moment you saw his outline through his pants. Maybe you fell to your knees on the floor of the car with great anxiety, but you smile shyly at the way he smiles at your gesture and tells you 'what a good girl you are for doing that'. You watch as he spreads his knees and leans back, giving you wide access to his lap.

In a different context, you would have thought he looked like an idiot with a huge, self-obsessed ego. But maybe that's why you adore him, after all.

With the care of someone opening a beautifully wrapped gift, you slowly unbutton his pants and free Aemond's hardened length from his boxers. Your mouth is already watering at the sight of the pre-cum that glistens on the tip of his pink head, like a drop of water on a flower petal.

Settling comfortably between his thighs, this is the first thing you decide to taste, holding it on your tongue as if it were your personal candy. Aemond grunts, his eye squinted beside his eye patch, watching you with laser focus. You decide to stick out your tongue to proudly show off the pre-cum wetness there, humming contentedly as you hear him growl (GROWL) as you swallow and return your lips to his head.

He's even bigger than you imagined.

Working up the courage to shove him down your throat, you start by first swirling your tongue along every inch you can find, covering him with what's left of your strawberry lipbalm. The guttural noise Aemond makes in his throat is worth it, and when you deem him adequately covered in saliva, you begin the process of taking him into your mouth.

Although he hasn't expressed his direct approval yet, you already know he loves it by the involuntary twitch of his hips. With the softest smile, you wrap your fists around his base, trying to move your mouth and hand in tandem as you slowly ease him down your throat.

You pause when you're halfway through, already fighting your gag reflex. Your eyes flicker to his, feeling proud when you notice that his cheeks are slightly flushed and his breathing is faster.

“You look so pretty with your lips around my cock, baby,” he murmurs, nothing but awe in his voice. “Do you think you can take more?”

You nod, the movement making him groan as you rock a little further down his length. “That’s it, baby,” he said, moving his hips slightly to encourage you to take more. “Just relax for daddy, you’re almost there.”

He thrusts his hips, with a little more force this time, and it made you choke when he scratched the back of your throat. Aemond curses vehemently. “Fuck, baby. I love watching you choke on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you fight to relax against your gag reflex, opening your mouth as wide as you can to take the rest of him. When your nose brushes against his soft strands of light hair, and he is fully seated, Aemond delivers a dirty litany of praise that has you humming with pride.

“So good for me, girl,” he grunts, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Your sweet little mouth feels amazing around daddy's cock."

You hum in agreement, because every time you do it seems to draw a string of curses from Aemond. He's fucking into your mouth with abandon now, and you've done your best to keep your jaw open and tongue relaxed. Although every time you choke, he seems to love it. And you start drooling down your chin, messing up the leather seat below - he seems to love that too.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he warns, his voice rough. “Swallow for daddy like a good girl.”

You comply readily, holding his dark gaze as he spills his release down your throat. You take extra care to make sure not a drop spills, and when he withdraws, you extend your clean tongue to him, making him chuckle with something akin to affection.

“That was amazing, baby,” Aemond whispers, voice softening. He leans forward as if he's going to kiss you, but hesitates. Instead, he offers you a smile. "You did so well."

You're not sure how much time passes as he pulls you to lie against his broad, warm chest, but your post-orgasm haze is broken at some point when you mutter that you really need to go upstairs and feed your cat - the grumpy little creature already must be scratching all your furniture demanding food.

Aemond smiles softly against your hair and gently lifts you off his lap and sets you aside as he gets out of the car. You try to compose yourself to a point before he opens the door and holds out his hand to help you. As you do, you avoid his gaze, starting to feel some sort of embarrassment at your behavior in the backseat before he lifts your chin with a finger.

“Thank you,” he says gently, “for sharing this with me. I hope it happens again someday.”

You blush as he presents his arm for you to hold. He walks you down the walkway to the door of your building and looks at you again.

“Think about it, Y/N,” he states with a warm gaze on you. “48 hours, minimum. Regardless of how you decide to proceed then, know that I enjoyed every minute I spent with you.”

“I promise, I’ll think about it,” you say sincerely. You marvel at the length of his eyelashes as he looks down at you, how they almost brush his pointy cheekbone. The icy breeze swayed the long length of his silver strands around his face and shoulders.

He's beautiful.

“Thank you,” he smiles modestly, delivering you to your door. “Good night, Y/N. Get some sleep, please?"

“I’ll try,” you respond, standing on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. A small expression of surprise crosses his face as you turn to open the door. “Good night, Aemond.”

He raises an brow and twists his lips sarcastically and you struggle to hold back a smile as you close the door.

Your bright, deep eyes dance across your eyelids as you try to fall asleep that night.

Like a good girl.

Tagging: @croatianprincess @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @supmymainhuman @navyblue-eternity @gothicxs @toodlesxcuddles @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @thedamewithabook @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @nezzlysixx @maximizedrhythms @maviee @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @qyoquixote @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @vyctorya @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @zondereleutheromania @diosademuerte @spookymicrowave @wintrr13 @namelesslosers @chainsawangel @beautbuck @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif @qyburnsghost @rwdkarla @dontforgetoctober3rd @violetexpress1

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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Aaah, my favorite necklace!

I would cross OCEANS to get these fingers inside me

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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New Aegon II Targaryen in HOTD 2

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myladysapphire · 4 months

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Dream of Me

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (House of the Dragon) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, smut. Word count: ~1.2k

Summary: Upon learning of Helaena's lady in waiting's dream of him, Aemond is plagued by his own.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day two of the Smuffmas prompts - "dreams and dirty talk". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Just so you know, if I were going to pleasure you with my mouth, I would do it before I stuck my cock in your cunt, not after.”

The words Aemond had spoken to her play on a loop in his mind as he readies himself for bed, a smug smirk of satisfaction playing delicately upon his lips.

Her shocked expression is one he wants to keep in his mind’s eye as he pleasures himself, but is frustrated to find that his overindulgence of wine at that evening’s supper renders him unable to rouse his cock to attention, it lays flaccid and useless in his palm, causing him to tuck it away with a frustrated sigh.

As he lays tangled in the soft cotton of the bedsheets, his final thought as sleep tugs him towards hazy unconsciousness is that he hopes she will dream of him again.

She has her back turned to him, fingers tracing carefully over the spines of the books on the shelf she faces in the library. He strides purposefully towards her, the dulcet tone of her gasp shooting straight to his stones, making them ache, as he wraps a deft hand around her throat.

He can feel the heat of her body through his jerkin as he pulls her back against his chest, the skin of her jaw soft as peach flesh as he trails his mouth against it. She shivers against him, not fighting his advances, simply allowing him to do with her as he pleases.

The lacings that fasten the back of her gown tear effortlessly in his grasp as his free hand rips at them, the garment falling from her body, leaving her completely bare to him.

Her hands reach up the shelves, gripping for purchase, whether it is to keep herself steady, or an attempt to get away from him, Aemond is unsure, but desire boils too hotly in his blood for him to care.

He is swift to untie his breeches, grabbing her hips and sinking himself into her tight, wet heat. His name has never sounded sweeter than it does when it topples from her lips in the throes of ecstasy, coupled with the sticky sounds that accompany every push into her. She is so warm, so warm, so very warm…

There is warmth against his flesh when Aemond opens his eye, the bright sunlight that bleeds through the crack in the curtains making him grimace as he scrubs a hand across his face.

He has been dreaming, and yet it had felt so real. He swears he can feel her arousal, the heat of her, and then he sees the sticky translucence that coats his lower abdomen.

Just a dream.

The shame of which he will wash away in his morning bath.

He feels restless throughout the day, nothing satisfies the pulsating ache of want that simmers hotly in his lower abdomen.

The burning in his shoulder from wielding his sword, bringing it down upon Ser Criston’s upturned shield, and watching the wood splinter into fragments across the gravel of the training yard does nothing to quell the storm that rages inside him.

Perhaps it is not physical stimulation that he needs he reasons, nowhere has offered him solace quite like the quiet solitude that can be found between the yellowing pages of a historical tome.

The library is silent as he enters it, the thud of his boots against the flagstone floor echoing off of the vaulted ceiling as he makes his way slowly between the towering shelves. The supple leather that binds the covers of his favourite philosophy and history books feels rough against his fingertips. Nothing could compare with the velvety softness of how her flesh had dimpled beneath the press of his fingertips, but that was all in his imagination. How could a simple dream have rendered him so listless?

He swallows, screwing his eye shut, attempting to ignore the throbbing between his legs.

Just a dream. No reality would ever yield such pleasure. The depravity he had dared to peruse since learning of her dream of him would never be as pleasurable as he had built it up in his mind to be.

He exhales a shaky breath, attempting to calm himself, and when he opens his eye she is there, much more real than anything he could imagine. Yet the sight of her, back turned to him as her eyes wander the shelves feels so familiar. He is frozen in place, until she feels his attention on her and turns slightly, offering the softest of smiles.

He clears his throat, stepping towards her, his voice low.

“I trust you slept well, my lady?”

“Mmm, yes, my Prince, very well indeed,” she responds politely, turning to face him.

His eye roves across her, taking in her delicate features, the gentle slope of her neck, the swell of her breasts in her bodice, the subtle curve of her hips beneath her skirts, before lifting once more to her face.

“Were your dreams pleasant?” He asks with a smirk.

“You mean did I dream of you?” She replies cheeikly.

Little temptress.

“I dreamed of you,” he whispers, stepping towards her, backing her against the shelves. There is no fear reflected back at him in her eyes, as she stares up at him, only glittering excitement. It takes all of his restraint not to grab her by the waist and pull her to him.

“Pleasant, I hope?” Her chest rises and falls in a sudden state of breathlessness.

“You drive me to distraction,” he utters. “Tell me, how easily would your dress tear from your body if I were to tug hard enough?”

Her eyes go wide as her breath hitches, but still she does not look away. “I–I do not know,” is all she is able to offer.

“I ripped it from you in my dreams,” he whispers, ducking his head low to whisper against the shell of her air, delighting in the way her skin erupts into gooseflesh at the feel of his breath. “I sank inside of you, and you screamed my name in ecstasy.”

“Aemond…” she gasps helplessly, hands clutching at the black material of his jerkin.

“It sounds so sweet from your mouth. Does it leave your lips so freely when you pleasure yourself?”

Finally she averts her gaze, her voice small and embarrassed sounding when she answers. “...yes.”

His nose trails a path from her ear, down her neck, stopping when he reaches her clavicle. She smells sweet, like rosewater, her flesh as delicate as the petals from which it derives its scent, exactly as he had dreamed it would.

“Please…” she whines, her fists coiling tighter in the leather that covers his chest.

“Please what?” He asks coyly, lifting his gaze, his face mere inches away from hers.

“Touch me.”

“You would like that, would you not? For me to soak my cock with your maidenhead, leave your betrothed dissatisfied with what he finds on your wedding night?”

“But I want you,” she pleads quietly.

“And I you, my lady,” he grips her jaw tightly in his hand, running his thumb over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “But for now, sweet dreams of each other will have to do. I hope to visit you in yours again soon.”

With that, Aemond abruptly steps away from her, leaving the library in desperate need to relieve the way he strains against the confines of his trousers. He hopes he dreams of her again tonight, and every night after that.

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myladysapphire · 5 months

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Studious VI (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+ FINALE

Five months after your reconciliation, you and Aemond have grown ever closer. When he returns from his first time away from you, you have a surprise ready for him.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: kissing, oral sex (M and F receiving), p in v sex, fluff

Author's Note: And with this, the series is complete! I want to thank you all so much for all the support y'all have given my silly little story. I truly cherish every reply, comment, or like it receives.

And fear not! This isn't the end of the journey for our lovely, stupid couple. On the 21st, I will be releasing another short fic as part of my 12 Days of Smuff event. If there will be anything more beyond that, it remains to be seen!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part V Here

My Masterlist

Taglist is in reblogs

Studious VI

It was the middle of the afternoon, and though the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill in the air. You had uncovered all the windows in the room, so it was quite cold within the stone walls. Therefore, you were curled up on a large, plush chair – Aemond’s reading chair – contentedly snuggled within your oversized robe.

And only the robe.

Vhagar’s mighty wingbeats had thundered above the keep not long ago. Thanks to the open windows, you’d heard it clearly – the chill was well worth it. A rush of excitement flowed through you, and you immediately traded your warm dress and stockings for the robe and took up your perch.

Aemond had been gone for four long, lonely, torturous days, and you were determined to be there the moment he walked through the door to his chambers.

It was the first time he’d left King’s Landing since your wedding five months ago and the first time the two of you had been apart for more than a few hours since your ‘reconciliation,’ as you had come to call it. Both of you argued passionately against it.

Neither of you could bear to be parted only two weeks after Grand Maester Orwyle confirmed that your nightly activities had resulted in the child now growing within you. Aemond wanted nothing more than to be by your side every moment until the babe was born. You weren’t opposed to it, though you did wonder about the practicality of such an arrangement.

But the Queen and the Hand insisted on Aemond going, rather than one of his siblings. The unfortunate result of his being the dutiful and trustworthy son, you supposed.

So, you had gone with him to the edge of the woods and watched as he mounted Vhagar and flew away. Of course, he had kissed you deeply before he left. Long enough for both Vhagar and the Dragonkeepers to begin subtly voicing their impatience. Had they not been there, you likely would have shared a more thorough goodbye.

Still, the four days felt like four years, four decades, four centuries. You would have gone mad if you hadn’t found something to do to fill the Aemond-shaped hole in your life. So you filled your time with planning how you would welcome him home.

You were sure he would be very pleasantly surprised.

Time passed quickly while you were held in suspense. The sound of soft, steady footsteps soon began echoing from the hall, and you just barely contained a squeal of delight. You readied yourself to leap, standing atop the chair to give you a better chance of actually landing on your target.

Then the door opened, and you pounced.

Thankfully, Aemond caught you easily. His strong, lithe arms wrapped around your hips and rear as if on instinct, and you were once more safe and secure.

You didn’t get to see his reaction to your leaping upon him, which you only regretted slightly as you pressed your lips hard against his

Aemond made a choked sound of surprise that soon faded into a low, passionate moan as he teased your lips open with his tongue to deepen the kiss. It still wasn’t your favourite sensation – a taste you had to acquire – but after days without it, it was almost enjoyable. Almost.

“I missed you so much, Aemond,” you whispered between kisses, strained and desperate as your fingers clawed at him, seeking to touch every inch of him. Every inch you had missed.

Aemond’s brow furrowed, but he did not stop kissing you. “I was only away four days, my love. Could you miss me so much in so short a time?”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eye as you touched the tip of your nose to his, widening your eyes and making a show of pouting. “Did you not miss me as well?”

He gave you the slightest glimpse of his startled fish face before kissing you again. “No… I longed for you every minute we were parted. It took all my strength to resist the temptation of forgoing my duty and returning to you. I missed you so much I ached.”

“Show me,” you commanded, smiling against his lips as you watched the realisation that you had never doubted his missing you dawn on his face with an affectionate, put-upon smile.

You squealed as he pulled you closer to his chest – you had not thought such a thing possible – and brought the hand that had circled your waist to cup your neck as he began kissing you again. Fiercely. Passionately. Lovingly.

The rooms were a blur as he began to blindly carry you into the bedroom, depositing you squarely in the middle of the bed. You were granted only a moment to catch your breath before he was on you again, his welcome weight pressing down on you as his heat continued to soak into your bones.

“If you were wearing anything else,” Aemond growled as his hands started furiously fumbling with the tie of your robe, “I would tear it to pieces.”

You bit down on his bottom lip, ever so slightly harder than you normally did to scold him. It did not work. It only prompted him to kiss you deeper.

“Were you ever to tear even a single thread of this robe,” you panted. “I would return to my father’s keep and never speak to you again.”

“Then I will be very careful, and…” Aemond trailed off when he opened your robe and realised you were bare beneath it.

His eye raked over you slowly, studying you as if you were a master artwork. His chest heaving, he slowly traced his hand from the base of your throat down to your navel, and when you shivered at the sensation, he shivered too.

He splayed his hand over your still-flat stomach, his eye sparkling as if he could see the babe within. “How is it possible that you become more beautiful every day?”

You laughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your hand. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aemond. And I dare say that your eye is quite biased towards me.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Your beauty is utterly indisputable. Any who behold you and do not see it must be truly blind.”

You could not suppress the smile that came over you, wide and unyielding. “I will remind you of those words when I have grown as large as a bear and have the temper of a taunted goose.”

Aemond chuckled lowly, moving his mouth along your jaw and onto your neck. “Then I will say them again, for nothing could alter how I feel about you, my love.”

Any smart reply you had was quickly forgotten as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken. Your only complaint was that his mouth was far slower. He would press a kiss or two against your skin, then momentarily lose his grip on whatever restraint he had. Then, he latched on, laving his tongue upon you as if he wished to devour you. Sometimes, he even lightly nipped you with his teeth, but he never failed to soothe the pain with more gentle kisses.

You could have happily let him continue for hours. But you had made plans, and you were going to follow through. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close enough for you to whisper against his cheek. “Jiōrna mazumbilloti, ābrazȳrys.”

Your use of the Valyrian mother tongue surprised him, breaking him immediately from his lustful haze. He sat up and leaned over to kiss your cheek swiftly enough that you could only catch a glimpse of a mischievous smile.

“So close, but…” he apologetically kissed your nose. “You are ābrazȳrys. I am valzȳrys.” He pressed his finger on your skin just above your heart. “Ābrazȳrys – wife.” He moved the finger to his chest. “Valzȳrys – husband.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, valzȳrys.”

He obliged, his mouth continuing its path down your front after a brief return to your breasts. The closer he came to your center, the louder your moans and pleas became.

He pulled away slightly when he finally reached your dripping cunt, chuckling slightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed this beautiful thing,” he mused.

You spread your legs as much as you could in a show of impatience. “Well, then you should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

A desperate gasp escaped you as you felt him gently blow a cold breath onto your heated core. Your back arched as he did it again, tracing a line of cool air up and down your folds.

“Aemond,” you breathlessly begged, “I’ve already waited so long. Please, don’t tease me like this!”

You watched as he looked back up at you with a wicked grin. “I’ve waited just as long, my dear. I want to savour this. Make up for lost time.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, though you could not deny his plan sounded quite pleasant. “Savour me, then.”

He did.

Aemond’s mouth was thorough. In the five months since he’d first pleasure you like this, he’d become as skilled and precise with his tongue as he was with his sword.

His tongue found your pearl almost instantly and began teasing it ever so slowly, as if it were a game for him. He alternated between pressing on it, drawing circles and various shapes upon it, and sucking on it like a candied lemon.

He did not stop until he’d pulled two releases from you. Only then did he finally acknowledge your entrance beyond merely pressing against it with his chin while he focused elsewhere.

Had he not been so eager to lap up every bit of wetness from you, you were sure the bed linens would have been ruined for how much slick spilt from you. But he was voracious in devouring you – moaning and gasping nearly as much as you were. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he came simply from being buried in your thighs. He’d done it before, after all.

Your hands found their way into his hair as his tongue delved inside of you, his wonderful, glorious nose still giving your pearl the attention it craved. Holding onto him was the only way you could withstand the intensity of what he was doing to you, to keep it from overwhelming you.

It also helped that when you tugged on his hair or slightly dug your nails into his scalp, he groaned in pleasure, sending delicious vibrations through you as his hips bucked into the bed. And when your release barreled through you, and you pulled on his hair like it was the reins of a dragon, he nearly screamed against your cunt.

Aemond gazed up at you, his face glistening and flushed. “My sweet ābrazȳrys,” he hummed before ducking his head back between your thighs again.

“Ah, ah ah!” You scolded, using the hands you had in his hair to drag him back to your face, causing another satisfied moan to escape him. “By my count, I’m at three, while you’ve yet to have even one. Unless…?”

A glance at the front of his trousers confirmed that he had not come simply from pleasuring you, and you sighed dramatically. “Still at none, then.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Aemond placed shortcut soft kisses all over your face before retracing his path downwards. “Let me give you more.”

You yanked him up again, kissing him fiercely. “No. My turn.”

He rose onto his knees as you pushed on his chest, his eye never once leaving yours. You smirked as you sat up with him, your legs still between his.

“I’ll rid us of these,” you said as you began unlacing his trousers – fortunately, he’d removed the belts for his sword and dagger before he’d even come to his rooms. You nodded to his doublet. “If you get rid of that.”

You had still yet to master the ridiculous clasps and buckles on the damnable thing. And Aemond resisted all your efforts to have a new, less complicated garment made for him.

At least he did not tease you about it this time and began to remove it swiftly.

Still, you accomplished your task before he did his, and he fumbled slightly as he threw the rest of his clothes on the floor as you grasped his red, weeping length in your hand and began returning his affections.

“Oh gods,” he groaned, forgetting his doublet entirely. “Oh, dōnus riñus… sȳros. Sȳros!”

His hands flew to your head. He didn’t pull at your hair or dig his fingers in. Aemond never did; he was always gentle. He simply cupped the back of your head with one hand while the other held your cheek, stroking you with his thumb in time with your ministrations.

He had been right when he said that learning to please a man was substantially easier than learning to please a woman. There were some things you had to remind yourself of the first few times you’d done this – don’t squeeze too hard, don’t take him too deep, and never use your teeth.

But you’d had plenty of practice and knew precisely what Aemond liked.

You knew how much he liked it when you used the tip of your tongue to trace his slit before swirling it around the head of his cock.

You knew the way he liked you to play with his stones – caressing them lightly with just your fingertips, and every so often giving them the gentlest of tugs.

You knew exactly how to pace yourself in a way that drove him wild without speeding him towards an early end.

He begged. Several times, he begged you to go faster, to let him finish. But after he’d told you what he meant by “practice” in his diary, you knew he could take it. Knew he enjoyed it.

“Please,” he said breathlessly. You looked up to find tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, you slowed, worrying that you’d pushed him too far, until he pulled you back down onto him so far your nose nuzzled into the silvery hair at his base.

Your hands went to his hips, bracing yourself while he pulled you forward and back. Always gently, but with more speed than you’d allowed him thus far.

It was the first time he’d ever taken charge in this particular scenario. He was always dominant in all other intimate moments, but never with this. Whenever you held him in your mouth, you commanded the prince.

The thrill of it sparked a burning heat of desire in your core, and you moaned around him.

It was enough.

Aemond pulled you as close as he could until your brow rested against his stomach, and he reached his peak. His entire body shook as he spilled himself down your throat. And he did not release you until he heard you struggling to keep him so deep.

“Oh, my darling, did I hurt you?” he asked as he again laid himself atop you.

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “No, Aemond. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s a good hurt.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be, please. It was less of a hurt than you being gone.”

Aemond rolled onto his side to kiss you once more, languidly, now that the initial rush of lust had faded. You could almost feel his adoration as if it were a tangible thing. You held it tightly, and would never let it go. When he finally pulled away, his lips only left yours for a moment before he was again trailing his mouth along your neck to your chest.

“Well?” You asked. “Do you like your surprise?”

“It was wonderful, my love. Would it be indelicate of me to ask for more?”

You narrowed your eyes, tugging on his hair just enough to draw his attention away from your breasts and back to you. The moment he saw the confusion on his face, it was reflected in his own.

“This was not the surprise, Aemond.”

“Then what is?”

You smiled, looking dramatically over the bedchamber. Aemond only stared at you, waiting for you to speak, until you were forced to seize his chin and turn his head.

Then, he finally saw.

As his eye roved across the walls and shelves, he rose until he was kneeling in the center of the bed. You laid back against your pillow, watching him admire what you had spent the last four days doing.

The bare walls were no more. Now, they were filled with paintings, tapestries, and even a few little sculptures. By the bookshelves – which you had filled with as many trinkets as possible – you’d hung paintings depicting some of your favourite stories from fiction and history. A wrought-iron dragon flew across the space above the doorway. On another wall, a tapestry depicting your home keep surrounded by a field of dog roses hung proudly. And above the head of the bed, a new tapestry you had made in secret these past few months.

“Vhagar,” Aemond whispered when he saw it.

You let out a sigh of relief – you had not been sure whether he would recognise her. After all, the only time you saw the dragon was when Aemond took you to visit her. Making sketches on those few occasions would have swiftly given away your secret. Fortunately, Helaena was more than happy to help you in its creation.

Aemond moved closer to admire the tapestry, one leg falling off the bed. He started, looking down to find his foot had landed atop a plush blue rug. When he looked up to gape at you, his eye caught on the bursting of colour atop the armoire.

His plain stoneware and metal vases had been joined by others more intricate and brightly coloured. All of them were now filled with a vibrant bouquet. The one you’d painted yourself when you were young and thought yourself the next great painter was filled with bright pink dog roses, much to his delight.

“You decorated,” he said in awe as he faced you again. While he’d been surveying the room, you’d sat up, holding onto his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

“No…” you teased, savouring that quick moment of his confusion before continuing, “I moved in.”

His face crumpled with an affection so strong you hardly knew how he contained it all.

Except you did know.

You did it, too.

“My dearest,” he sighed, “I – ”

“I love you, Aemond.”

The colour drained from his face, and you swore his breathing halted.

A roiling storm of emotions passed over his face. Unbridled joy, sweetest relief, depthless love, and a single moment of fear beneath it all. He’d told you only to say those words when you truly meant it with all your heart. His worry that you didn’t was clear.

You held his face in your hands and pulled him forward until his brow rested against yours. “I love you, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Not only with my whole heart, but with all that I am.”

A tear fell from his eye, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. “Oh my love,” he murmured like a prayer, “my love…”

Then he was upon you again. His mouth against yours, his comforting heat warming you. He wrapped his arms around you – one on your waist, one at your shoulder – and pulled you against him so tightly there was nowhere you were not touching.

“I love you, Aemond,” you repeated every time your lips parted from his. Each time, he nearly sobbed at the words.

You kissed for a long while, until you at last felt him hardening against you. For only a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still damp as he looked down at you.

“May I?”

Your only response was a smile and another kiss.

Aemond entered you in one long, gentle thrust.

That moment of stillness and adjustment was no longer strictly necessary, but you both still enjoyed it.

Just a moment to look at each other. To see the joy and now, the love within them. A moment to revel in the connection you shared and bask in the feeling of being whole with each other. Aemond kissed you again before he started thrusting into you. Both were gentle and slow, allowing you to cherish each other. You were not fucking to find release, but to simply be together.

There were times when Aemond was completely still as he ravished you with his mouth or hands rather than his cock. There were times when he rutted into you like a beast, only stopping so he could prolong the connection. And there were times when both of you were still, just embracing each other, breathing together, and knowing that you were loved.

Eventually, you could hold off your instincts no longer. You squirmed against Aemond to seek more pleasure – more of him. And he happily obliged. He braced one hand on your hip as he began to move. Faster and faster. With smooth, practised thrusts.

He was so familiar with your body that it did not take long for him to have you gasping as you approached your peak. He was already brushing against that wonderful spot inside you with every movement of his hips, and when he brought a finger to gently tease your pearl, you could not hold back.

Nor could Aemond. He buried himself in you entirely, his face falling into the crook of your shoulder as he moaned your name, along with several High Valyrian words you did not know.

You lifted his head to bring his lips to yours and kissed him until his breath steadied again.

“No,” you whined as he moved to sit up and pull his softened cock out of you. “Stay. Please.”

Aemond smiled as he understood your meaning, again pressing his hips against yours to keep himself inside you as he rolled you onto your sides. “If I could stay forever, I would.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck. “In fact, I’d quite like it if you did.”

“Then so I shall.”

A long, peaceful silence passed between you. Your flushes faded, your breathing calmed, and the evening air began to blow through the windows and cool your hot skin.

The day was not yet over. There was still dinner to attend, and Aemond likely needed to meet with the Small Council to discuss his trip. Yet neither of you moved. You simply laid there, basking in the bliss of holding the person you love.

You loved him. You loved Aemond so much.

He’d said it so often to you in the past five months. You had a lot of catching up to do.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he replied.

“I love you.”

“I love you…”

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