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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

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MAD (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Caught in the crossfire of your familiy's ploys, you never expected to catch the eye of the enemy.

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: Did you know there are nine meanings for mad in the dictionary? Credits to Wikipedia for the one in the banner. As always, this is already written, broken up for easier reading and editing.

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“I don’t understand.” Your father lifts the letter to the light, as if he is about to uncover some secret in the parchment. His expression is absolutely puzzled. “Are they really trying to sell an insult as a compliment?”

“That’s Otto Hightower for you.” Your grandfather answers. You stop kicking your legs from your place near the fireplace, suddenly interested. Unsure what Otto Hightower has to do with you, you try listening closely. No one has told you yet why you have been summoned, but you would love to know. “But the order comes bearing his brother’s seal. We cannot refuse him.”

“We can’t? It’s worded as a question.”

“A question with King’s Viserys’s seal? Oh, don’t be naive.” Your grandfather scoffs.

Sensing an argument, you decide to tune it out. Like most families, yours can go at it for hours. You kick a bit more, then get up to look through the window. You wish you could be outside, soaking up the sun. The day is too pretty to miss on, and The Reach is always so nice during the spring.

They are still bickering, and taking no notice of your change in position when something catches your ear.

“The girl has to go to court.”

A trip to the capital. You at court? But why? You are a lady from a minor house, and not even an important one. Your family can’t raise many men, nor do they have countless funds. Your greatest ambition in life has been to marry into another family from The Reach and not having to leave your family behind.

“To teach Princess Helaena about bees?” Your father glares at your grandfather. “They aren’t even trying to disguise it, father.”

Teaching a royal girl about bees? It was strange, for sure. You had heard about Princess Helaena’s oddities, but you doubted they extended to wanting to learn how to produce her own honey. You doubted her family would approve, either.

From your limited knowledge of mothers, they disliked daughters crawling in the mud or chasing bugs. They thought it was not ladylike. You had no doubts Queen Alicent was the same.

Chasing of bees aside, you have been nothing but a dutiful daughter. All your life you have kept up to date with your studies and readings, assisted the Sept weekly and learned the finest arts. Thanks to it, you know enough of the world to recognize your lack of importance. Princesses don’t befriend unimportant farm girls, much less ask to have them as their companions. They befriend girls of similar status, girls who will inherit extensive lands and riches.

You are neither. You will get, of course, when your Lord Father dies, a small plot of land for yourself. Not exactly the Red Keep or Winterfell, but not a hut either. The family business is profitable, as always. Producing honey for the Seven Kingdoms means you are not living in poverty. But its nowhere near the level of these people.

So what could they want with you? There is only one possible answer. A political move. One worth befriending someone so unimportant. And what better than silencing your grandfather? You know his opposition to your Liege Lord’s brother has been making waves. His constant backing of Princess Rhaenyra has angered Ser Otto. The fact that the proposal, signed by King Viserys, also wears the seal of Lord Hightower means you can’t say no.

“It’s a show of strength. I have no doubt he could order her to marry one of his family members if he wanted to. He is warning me.” The confirmation of your suspicions makes you feel strangely empty. Your grandfather sounds scared, which is not a common occurrence. Despite his old age, the man is still a menace. A bright politician, and an even more fearsome Lord.

“And are you going to listen, grandfather?” Your pulse beats loudly in your ears. You don’t want to leave your home. Never had you thought it would be like, this, you thought you had time. And whatever these people want to do to you, it can’t be good.

You are scared. House Targaryen is nasty, and you doubt you will find any sort of solace in the ladies at court. You are soon to become an upjumped noble. A girl, who with gods knows what trickery, has ensnared a Princess to do her bidding and secured herself one of the most prestigious positions in the realm.

You will be entering a nest of vipers in less than a week. Any mistake might mean the ruin of your grandfather and yours. You should be scared. Yet, fear is not the only thing in your mind. White, hot, blinding rage builds up in your throat and fills you with the urge to scream.

“My dear girl, I have no choice.”

“I don’t understand why I have to court her.” Aemond leans in, placing both of his hands on the table. He can already hear the smug comment Aegon is about to make. “House Beesbury brings nothing to the table. They are not prestigious, nor are they rich, and they are already sworn to us.”

It makes no sense. When you are a Prince, you marry to secure alliances. You don’t marry your vassals, not when they are already loyal to you.

“And haven’t you thought you deserve her, brother? With that stick up your ass and…”

Why is Aegon even here? Aemond does not mind his presence, but more his lack of gravitas. He seems to have a chronic inability to take anything seriously. It’s not that that bothers him, really. Too often, Aemond has found himself hiding a smile at his brother’s antics. But this is really not the time.

In his eyes, nothing is more serious than getting married. Even if he can’t understand yet why this girl in particular.

There must be some reason he is not seeing. You might be pretty, or his grandsire and mother might think you are a good match. You will be inheriting lands, which is always nice. It means having a place to retire to when life in court gets too stifling. But many other ladies will, too. So why does his grandsire insist on you?

“Aegon!” His mother pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Then, towards Aemond. “Do not listen to your brother. That is certainly not the reason. Your grandsire…”

“It’s not that I oppose the match, mother. Or that I refuse to court her.” Aemond does not want her or his grandsire to get the wrong impression. He intends to fulfill his duty. If he has to marry the girl, he marries her, no matter his opinion. “I’m just puzzled about the reasoning.”

“I think this will be a valuable lesson for you both.” His grandsire takes out a list of names and a quill. “That’s why we called Aegon in here, too.”

“Are we really going to talk politics? How dull.” Aegon complains, but no one pays attention to him.

“This is an account of the Small Council voting tendencies in the last month.” His grandsire explains, now in full lecture mode. The parchment, now that Aemond is paying more attention to it, doesn’t have only a list of names, but a tally. “As you can see, the backing of my proposals changes, but there is one constant. Can you tell what it is?”

Aemond grabs the parchment and takes a look. It takes him a while, but he notices a pattern. At first, he doesn’t dare mention it. He is not sure of having the right answer and hates being wrong about it.

Some people say that mistakes aid learning. To Aemond, mistakes are painful, and often embarrassing. It’s why he puts the parchment down in front of Aegon and stays quiet, despite knowing he is right.

A few minutes pass. Aegon stares at the parchment. He squints at it, but since he is most probably drunk, he can’t make sense of it.

His grandsire clears his throat.

“Lord Beesbury never backs you.” Aemond finally says. Now, he understands why you. To control your family. “How can that be? House Hightower is his overlord.”

“Perhaps at The Reach, he can’t refuse a Hightower. But as the Master of Coin, he can always excuse himself on a lack of funds.”

“So the man is a cunt. And you reward him by having his granddaughter marry Aemond?” Aegon frowns, showing he is more invested in the explanation than he appears to be. Aemond will never understand why he feels the need to downplay his intelligence. “I’m lost, I think.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, if you will.” Otto circles Beesbury’s name on the list. “He could give us a lot of trouble, not only here, but at Oldtown. It will neutralize him.” Of course. House Hightower would look weak, if they can't get a handle on the Beesburys. But marriage? Is that the solution?

“How?” Aemond frowns. He can understand keeping a close eye on the man, but it feels like much more of a reward than neutralizing him. All their other vassals might think it weakness. Act out, and your daughter will marry up. If it were up to Aemond, he would just kick him out of the Small Council and be done with it. He doesn’t believe in people’s good nature, after all. “By keeping him happy for a while? Gratefulness never lasts, grandsire.”

“No.” His mother speaks for the first time. Her lips are tense, as if tasting a particularly sour drink. It’s clear Alicent doesn’t agree and finds the whole matter distasteful. If Aemond were a woman, he might, too. But he, thanks to the Seven, was spared from that weakness of character. “By giving us a permanent hostage.”

“And teaching him a lesson.” Otto adds, giving him a pointed look. His brown eyes meet Aemond’s, as if silently conveying a message. No more words are needed then. Aemond understands what he is trying to say without having to speak the words aloud. He has grown used to sparing his mother’s sensibilities. She would be horrified and disappointed, if she knew exactly what they were planning.

It’s expected he leads you into some sort of scandal. Something that would mean your ruin, perhaps taking your maidenhead in a chamber close enough for others to hear. Or perhaps, that he times a servant to enter just right. Even leaving you with child before wedlock.

Lord Beesbury doesn’t know, and probably won’t know until it’s too late, that Aemond intends to marry you. The scandal alone will be enough to frighten him into compliance. And once you are ruined enough, Aemond will sweep in to save your reputation, cementing Beesbury’s loyalties. The man will not dare refuse them, after it.

Still, his mother’s words rattle him. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse, that she thinks that’s what’s about to happen. But her experiences with marriage have not been the best, either.

“Hostage? Mother, surely you know I would never treat her unkindly.” He means it. Marriage vows instruct on the most sacred duty. A man must protect his wife, not hurt her. The Seven Pointed Star says that he will have a duty to discipline her, of course, but for her own good. Never Aemond would raise a hand to his wife in cruelty.

He might be willing to ruin your reputation, but he draws the line at hurting you. It’s just not who he is. Aemond has heard enough tales of knighthood to know that’s simply not how an honorable man behaves.

Honorable men weren’t supposed to trick young maidens, either. But that was fine. He would marry you after it, so it didn’t count. It was just taking what was his a little earlier.

“We know, Aemond. But her grandfather does not.” Alicent leans in, to squeeze his hand. It’s that when the doubt assaults him. What if he does ruin you and your family still refuses to hand you to him? What if Lord Beesbury thinks Aemond will hurt you and decides to say no to the marriage? In that case, Aemond would be a despicable person. He would ruin your future, your purity, the most sacred thing a maiden has, for nothing.

“And if he refuses?” Because Aemond would not hand his granddaughter to a man like him. And if Lord Beesbury had any sense, he wouldn’t, either.

“She will come here as a companion for Helaena.” His grandsire smiles. Aemond looks at him, trying to show him he is still not reassured. Otto’s smile widens. Instead of a casual announcement, the words he says next are exclusively for Aemond. “My brother will force his hand if he has to.”

Aemond grins back. It’s not that he would have to just send you to court. If your grandfather doesn’t consent to the marriage later on, he will find himself having to fulfill an impossible condition or perhaps threatened to lose all he has. You will marry Aemond, even if your overlord has to order you to.

It must be done carefully. One of the rules of being a great house is never humiliating their vassals, or abusing them. Asking a man to hand over his granddaughter would be in bad taste, of course. It has to be avoided if possible. So it will be up to Aemond to see that the little lamb delivers herself for the slaughter. He has to tangle you enough that no one suspects the Hightowers’s involvement.

“When does she get here?”

How hard can it be, really? Aegon certainly is more than capable of getting women in his bed, after all. If he can do it, why couldn't Aemond? He has seen enough Lords court Ladies, has read all the books on courtly love and even some romances his mother likes. He has also seen how women swoon around Cole. And you are a farm girl. Easy to impress. Besides, half the women of the realm dream of marrying a Prince.

Aemond will plan accordingly and sweep you off your feet. He can do it. He just needs time.

“If everything goes according to plan.” Which it would because it was his grandfather who had made it. “In a fortnight.”

The dismay must have shown on his face because Aegon snickers.

“Think of the bright side, Aemond. Your little bee has to have the sweetest cunt in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aegon!”

“What, don't they claim to be descended from Ellyn Ever Sweet?”

You needed to be coaxed out of your sulk. Nothing excited you, after hearing the terrible news. Not even getting two new dresses made, and some aprons.

Well. Perhaps the new dresses. Your father had allowed you to order them in your favorite colors, in a rare respite from the black and yellow from your house. Still, you were angry. You didn’t want to leave the safety of Honeyholt.

“You should think of it as an adventure.” Your father had advised you, on your last night before departing. “Not many girls get to see Westeros before the day they are sent off to marry. And you get to see King’s Landing, too.”

Fuming as you were, you didn’t think it was valuable advice. Your father was, more often than not, a fool. Or so your mother said.

But as the carriage slowly started to leave behind the roads you knew, you discovered there was more to see in The Reach than just Oldtown. Your anger slowly started to fade, replaced by wonder and newly discovered freedom. Your grandfather, travelling with you, had never been the type to keep a close eye on you.

Lord Beesbury had grandchildren for one reason, and one reason only. To spoil them rotten. Unlike your mother, he didn’t believe in chastising you for your behavior or getting you to behave in a ladylike manner. He just wanted you to be happy.

That fact was what made you listen to him when he decided to try to teach you how to survive in court.

“It's no use being angry, little bee.” Your grandfather had said, as you gazed through the window in anger. “We need to think of ways of turning this to our favor.”

And so, the two of you had come up with three rules of behavior. One, never being alone with any man who was not part of your family. Two, never being alone with any Targaryen. And three, being on your most charming behavior. This was a good opportunity to show your beauty and grace to other houses, and perhaps get a better marriage. One that benefited your house and kept you out of the Hightower’s clutches. Now that was an objective you could get behind.

King’s Landing was not what you expected. You had thought the capital would be something like Oldtown, or other cities of The Reach. Carefully planned, either be in a Cyvasse board design or concentric circles. But to get to the center of the city, you had to go through dirty roads, slums and strange settlements.

It was clear the growth of the city had not had any thought behind it. The population was not educated, either, because you had seen some emptying their chamber pots on the streets. The stench alone spoke of a place that didn’t know the wonders of aqueducts.

And all was so gray. So dull. There was hardly any vegetation. Were it not for the fact the city had a port, you would have wondered where they got all their food.

Your grandfather aids your descent from the carriage, a hand firmly on yours to make sure you don’t trip. It would be a disgrace if you were to fall here. The path looks like it has not been cleaned during its whole existence. You do your best to smile and not show how unimpressed you are.

It’s then when you get your first look at Otto Hightower. He stands tall and proud at the gates of the Red Keep, as if he owned the place. Perhaps he thinks he does. You have heard that he disagrees with the succession order King Viserys has set.

He must feel King, already, thinking it will be Prince Aegon who will inherit the throne. The disloyalty and the greed of the man truly know no bounds. He would rather betray the King he has sworn to serve and place a drunk on the throne than have a Queen.

Otto Hightower is serious and slender, marked apart by the brooch he wears. Behind him, in a shock of silver hair, stand three more people.

The only woman, sweet faced, has to be Princess Helaena. It’s easy to recognize her, from your grandfather’s briefing. The two of you have decided her to be the most innocuous. According to your grandfather, there is not a single mean bone in her body. Besides, you doubt she is in any plot. Her family mocks her for not being all there, you doubt they would include her.

Next to her, judging by the lecherous expression and lack of eye patch, stands her brother husband. Prince Aegon is the one you have to watch out for, your grandfather has warned you. He has a taste for young maidens. You don’t get the appeal. He looks like a deviant cherub.

On Princess Helaena’s other side, stands Prince Aemond. Tall, serious and easily recognizable by the injury to his face, he looms above his siblings like a bat. While Helaena and Aegon are dressed lightly, in clothes appropriate for the climate, Aemond is dressed head to toe in black leather. You aren’t sure about him. If anyone out of the three of them is trusted with Otto’s secrets, it is him. But you doubt he could do much to you beyond insult you. He doesn’t seem interested in women, in tourneys or in drinking. In fact, he doesn’t seem interested in anything.

You school your face into a polite mask, as your grandfather is greeted by the Lord Hand himself.

“Lord Lyman Beesbury. I trust the journey was pleasant?” Otto sounds anything but interested in the answer.

“Delightful.” Your grandfather deadpans. “This is my granddaughter.”

“Little Lady Beesbury.” Otto nodded.

“My Lord.” You dropped into a small, but practiced curtsy. Not too low because he was not a royal, but low enough to acknowledge him as someone who was part of the family of your overlord.

His eyes examined you, coldly. From your loud yellow travel cloak to your sturdy black shoes. You pushed your shoulders back, giving him a smile. Ser Otto didn’t seem too impressed by it.

After a beat of silence, he turned towards your grandfather again.

“I have some matters I wish to discuss with you. There have been some concerns raised about…”

Despite being prepared for the possibility of being separated, you hadn’t expected it this soon. You hadn’t even stepped inside the Red Keep, for the Seven’s sake. Your grandfather gives you a reassuring glance.

“I was hoping I could help my granddaughter settle in.” He argues, keeping an eye on the Lord Hand.

The man laughs. It’s not a nice sound, or a joyful one. In fact, it sounds threatening.

“Oh, nonsense. Aemond?”

“Yes, grandfather?” The Prince steps forward, at the same time your grandfather places an encouraging hand on your back.

You step back despite yourself. Up close, he is much more intimidating. He is tall, and sports a menacing look. Your grandfather urges you forward, and Prince Aemond’s lips twitch. He is definitely enjoying your fear.

“You and your sister should help the lady settle in.” Ser Otto smiles. It’s clear who holds the reins here, once more. He has outmaneuvered you two in less than a minute. You squeeze your grandfather’s hand, trying to show him that you intend to be careful.

Ser Otto was a smart man. But you were sure he was not all seeing. You would find a way. This was a small fluke. You had been caught off guard in a disorienting moment. It wouldn’t happen again.

Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was terrifying. But he lacked his grandfather’s experience, he was untested. It would be his downfall, you were sure of it.

The Lord Hand threw an arm over your grandfather’s shoulder and led him away. The gesture made even Prince Aegon raise his eyebrows. Did they think you two were dumb? Because they were laying it a bit thick.

“Come, Lord Beesbury. We should let the youngsters get to…” His voice faded in the distance, as you stood there, feeling as lost as you looked.

Prince Aegon looked you over. Princess Helaena waved. And Prince Aemond, ever helpful, appeared at your elbow.

“Allow me.” He said, offering you his arm.

You looked around. Prince Aegon was on the edge of laughter, it seemed because he was making strange sounds. Princess Helaena seemed oblivious. Prince Aemond was still looming over you.

It was a long walk to the Hall. You would certainly encounter guards, servants and even the odd noble. Not only would it give the wrong impression, that you were here for him and not his sister, but it would be awkward. But rejecting him would be, too.

Not knowing of a better way to get out of it, you decided to play dumb. You took off your travel cloak and placed it on his extended arm.

“Thank you.” And with a bright smile, you took Princess Helaena’s arm.

Prince Aegon gave a poorly disguised snicker. Prince Aemond stared at the bright yellow cloak on his arm, coolly. It made for a great statement, considering he was in all black.

“Of course, my Lady.” But it came out strangled. Good. The sooner he realized you were not easy prey, the better.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Princess Helaena.” As you spoke, you noticed she looked very tense. She had not looked like that before you touched her. You decided to let go of her arm.

The Princess brightened immediately.

“Likewise, Lady Beesbury. When grandsire told me he was getting me a teacher, I never thought you were this young.” Her voice was soft and light. Kind. You wanted desperately to befriend her. You were starting to get the feeling that here, kindness was a scarce thing.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Oh, not at all.” Helaena answered, lightly tugging at your sleeve. You beamed.

Behind you, Prince Aemond and Aegon trailed dutifully. None of them seemed keen on conversing with you, but Helaena hadn’t left you an opening, either. There was something about her demeanor that seemed off to you. The Princess was very aloof, but not impolite. It was as if she wasn’t intending to dismiss you. Like she was uncomfortable with social niceties. As if she was awkward, like you.

It made you like her more.

“Why do you like insects?” You tried, figuring it was a safe topic. One of the Princes made a derisive sound. You ignored him, choosing to pay all your attention to Helaena.

“Oh, they are a fascinating bunch. They remain even when we do not.” Helaena had a dreamy tone. Again, someone snorted. This time you turned to glare and found yourself staring down Prince Aegon.

You keep your eyes on him as you replied.

“That’s true. They will probably inherit the earth when we are gone.”

Helaena nodded. Oblivious to what was quickly turning into a stare down between you and her husband, she kept talking passionately.

“And I have spent a lot of time watching ants, too. They build small societies. They even carry their dead back home. Surely, that speaks of a superior level of intelligence.”

Prince Aegon looked about to make some sort of joke. Prince Aemond grabbed his wrists, stopping him. He made eye contact with you, mouth quirking up in interest.

It was not good. Not good at all. Your stomach turned. Was he going to humiliate you? Perhaps make a joke at your expense?

His lips twitched. You braced yourself for having to mumble some polite recognition and playing dumb again.

“Hm.” Prince Aemond gave a court tilt of his head.

You blinked. What a strange interaction. You cleared your throat and turned towards Princess Helaena once more.

“Bees do something similar. Do you wish to hear more?"

The Princess nodded. You started your explanation then, still rattled by the siblings' behavior. Whatever your presence had been required for, you were certain it was not going to be boring.

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