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#Targaryens being a proper family
sarana174 · 2 years
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I want a fic where it’s just Rhaenyra bonding with her half-siblings and realize how shitty their family is and they need to stick together in order to protect their family’s legacies
Bonus points if there’s Aegon Aemond uncle/nephew friendship with Jacaerys Lucerys and Joffrey because it’s obvious they used to be close before Alicent ruins everything
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spaceycowboys · 2 years
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starry eyes sparking up my darkest night
pairing: aemond targaryen x female!tyrell!reader
summary: aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both. 
warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism (? just incase?), out of character aemond (?), i think thats all?
notes: i am a whore for a villain. aemond is so hot i love him. this is a side blog, i just didnt want to post on my main blog, im fairly rusty at writing smut, so any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!! please interact if you see this because i think tumblr hates me:((!! title credits: call it what you want by taylor swift
word count: 5.3k
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The wedding had been lovely, truly, but you think everyone could tell your heart wasn’t really in it. Few smiles reached your eyes, and you couldn’t lie that a part of you had felt slightly devasted you were being married in the Dragon Pit in the sight of the Seven, and not the Godswood in Winterfell that you’d come to love during your time in Cregan Stark’s presence many years ago.
You’d thought it was a grand wedding, perhaps too grand for the marriage of a second son, but Aemond is a Prince, so what did you know, besides that and the feeling that the Hand and Queen were trying to sway your father’s loyalty to them when King Viserys joins his late wife, perhaps even go as far as to hope for the favor of your lady mother’s family.
An extravagant weeklong event. Tourneys and hunts and beautiful dinners with lots of dancing. Many lords and ladies had come, many of your friends from childhood present and even your eldest brother. It made the evening feel less lonely for you to be in the presence of people you know so well.
You had been surprised, however, to see the Princess Rhaenyra present with her husband (uncle?) and their children. You heard often of the animosity between the two families, and you were sure she wouldn’t have come. You’d been even more surprised when she had approached you at, a smile on her pretty face.
“Lady Tyrell, you make a most beautiful bride,” She smiles fondly at you.
Aemond tensed next to you, so did the Queen when her next words left her mouth before you could even let out a proper thank you for her compliment, “Though, I must say I am disappointed that your father had not chosen my own son to be your husband. We were heavily in discussion regarding it.”
Your eyebrows furrow as your head turned over in the direction of your father who was seated to your left, “I must say, Princess, I did not know I had many suitors.”
“Why would she want to marry your Strong son, dear sister, when she had better offers?” Aemond spit the words out hatefully at the same time you try to answer her, glaring over her shoulder at the son in question. Jacaerys.
You’d met him on a few occasions, and he was a kind boy. A little closer to your age than your now husband. You didn’t think you knew him well enough to warrant any sort of affections from him, but you suppose that doesn’t matter, since you’d only met Aemond once as children before your father received the letter of the marriage offer from the Hand of the King.
“Aemond,” Alicent had hissed through gritted teeth, “this is a joyous occasion, one you had wanted so desperately. So, please, do not.”
Your now husband huffed out a bitter laugh before grabbing his cup and drowning the rest of his drink. You furrow your eyebrows at her words and look to Aemond slightly confused. He wanted to desperately marry you?
Rhaenyra ignored his comment and stayed looking at you, eyebrows having a slight furrow at your words, “You are a beautiful young woman and you come from one of the great houses, I can promise you that your father was drowning in marriage offers. But I do hope you will be happy here, with my dear brother.”
She walks away before you could say anything, tensing to stop a flinch when Aemond slammed his cup down harshly.
“That fucking cunt. How dare she come over here and say all those things. As if we did not just get married. As if your husband is not sitting right fucking next to you.” He was seething, and it honestly shocked you. You have barely even spoken to him; you really didn’t think he even liked you much.
“Aemond, you will watch your mouth in front of your wife,” Alicent spoke out, slightly baffled that he would say such things in front of you, in front of your family.
Your father is tense next to you, and you place your hand on his own and squeeze. This can’t be that bad. You can endure it.
As you look at Aemond, you can’t help but wonder if he will even be so bad. As if he can hear your thoughts, his hand moves to rest tenderly on your own.
The rest of the evening blurs together until Aegon stumbled his way over to where you were seated, “I believe we should be approaching the bedding ceremony soon, dear brother?”
And though his words had been directed at your husband, you felt his lust and drunk eyes on you. The mention of the bedding ceremony had you tense, and Aegon’s eyes don’t do anything to soothe your nerves.
“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Aemond spoke without a waver in his voice. What?
Aegon’s head snapped towards his brother, “And why the fuck not? It’s tradition.”
Aemond hummed, unamused, “I will not make a spectacle of my lady wife.” His words make your heart soften slightly
“She will not be your lady wife for long if there is no proof.” Aegon tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.
“There will be blood on my sheets come morning and a babe in her belly,” Aemond spoke as he stood up, towering over his older brother before he moved his face close enough to where no one, except you- much to your embarrassment, “though I do suppose if you are that concerned, you may stand outside my quarters and listen for the confirmation that my marriage has been consummated.”
Aemond takes your hand and pulls you from the room after that, moving quickly as if attempting not to be noticed.
“Why are we not doing the bedding ceremony? Is it not tradition? Will we not get in trouble?” Your voice is slightly panicked at the idea of getting in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to do, causing him to stop outside the door of his chambers and look at you.
“I would not feel like a very good husband if there were a bunch of old men with greedy eyes seeing your bare body before I got to see it,” He looks serious, and he sounds it as well. Though his voice lowers slightly into a possessive tone when the next words come out, “I also would not like anyone to see it after I do.”
                                                        εїз
Large hands take the many pins out of your hair before gently starting to unknot and remove the many intricate braids the servant girls spent hours doing not long ago. It feels like a waste, makes you feel as if you are a spectacle for viewing and gawking at only.
Which you suppose you are- if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been lucky to inherit not only your mother’s beauty, but as well as the charm that all the women from your lord fathers house seem to have.
You wonder why he insisted that the handmaiden leave, from what your mother told you it was typical of them to prepare you for the upcoming moments.
Your hair is abandoned for the strings at the back of your dress once Aemond has removed all the braids. The air is cold on your back and your hands are shaking when his own move to touch your bare skin in a way that no one else has. One hand is on the nape rubbing in an almost affectionate way as the other moves to pull the extravagant gown from your body.
You didn’t think you could get anymore tense than you already were, until your wedding dress dropped from your body unceremoniously onto the cold ground.
Goosebumps cover your body as you’re fully exposed to the cold air, despite the fire going in the fireplace. His hands move to map your body, starting at your shoulders and slowly moving down to your hips.
His lips on your neck causes you to gasp in surprise, your belly warming at the feeling of not only his lips on you but his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the skin and biting back a grown when the reach your ass.
His mouth moves from your neck to your shoulders, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin as he makes his way down your back. You close your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside you, a surprised gasp escaping you when a dull bite lands on your hip.
You feel his smile against your skin as he does the same to your other hip before he stands up to make his way around your body.
He stands in front of you, fully clothed still despite having taken off all of your clothing, leaving you bare for him to feast upon with his eye.
Aemond’s hands are calloused and rough, you assume from years of sword training and dragon riding, as they caress your face. His bright eye locked on yours, watching for any reactions. Thumbs trace under your eyes, over your nose, and your lips.
“Have you ever been touched this way?” His voice is quiet as his hands move down your neck towards your collarbones.
“No, my Prince,” Your voice pitches up at the end when his mouth finds your neck again, his teeth piercing your skin again.
“Not even your own hands?” His tone is serious but the smirk you feel against your skin lets you know he’s teasing.
You feel your face heat up at his implication. “No. Never.”
Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your words, soft voice stirring something primal in him.
His mouth is on yours before you can think of something else to say. His lips are a little dry, something you didn’t notice when he kissed you earlier at the wedding. One hand grips your hip as the other tangles into your hair, tugging lightly causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
It’s an unfamiliar feeling, all of it is, though. You’re overwhelmed and throbbing at your core.
Can he hear your heartbeat as well as you can? It’s pounding in your ears along with a rush of heat that takes over your whole body.
His tongue coaxes yours to move against it, and you wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. If you’re supposed to feel this good. Are you even allowed to feel this good? Your handmaiden had told you on many occasions      that men only cared for their own pleasure, and you would be feeling a lot of pain. This didn’t feel like anything she described.
Aemond pulls his mouth from yours and looks at you with a hooded eye, pupil so blown you can’t see the blue of it. There’s a light flush on his cheeks as he looks at your swollen lips.
“You are quite beautiful, my lady.” It’s said so quietly, you wonder if it was supposed to be a secret. You’d like to know all his secrets, you think.
When you don’t respond, his mouth attaches itself to your neck. A sharp pain if him biting is followed by a light sucking as if to soothe it.
You aren’t sure where to put your hands, they’ve stayed at your side due to your shyness and uncertainty.
“Have you been with many women?” The question leaves your mouth before your mind even processes that you’ve asked it.
His mouth stops moving against your skin as your blood runs cold, shaking, and wide eyed when he pulls away to look at you.
Sharpe eye studies your features, like a lion about to eat a lamb. Or, perhaps, a dragon ready to burn a rose.
He steps back, taking your hand as he sighs and looks away from you in, shame?
“When I was thirteen, Aegon took me to a brothel. Told me it was time to get it wet,”
You grimace at his word choice, but when you see how he’s looking at you, you squeeze his hand.
“To put it lightly, my dear lady, it was not a very nice experience. I have been with very few women since,”
Shame fills you at his words, and before he can continue you speak quickly, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to push you into speaking about an event you-“
His hands are back on your face, holding your cheeks, “You are my wife.” It’s a statement, and his words come out slightly harsh, “You are entitled to every piece of me. I will tell you everything you wish to know about me,”
His kiss is full of fire this time, claiming your lips with such an intensity. His body is pressed full against yours; you can feel his toned chest through his shirt. The fabric is soft against your chest, and as if they have a mind of their own, your hands start grasping at them hem of it desperately.
“Aemond,” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name that way, he likes the way it sounds. Desperate, needy. Maybe he just likes that it comes from you.
Aemond was nine the first time he saw you, still had both eyes back then. You’d been visiting the Keep with your father. The King wanted updates about something, Aemond didn’t know or care what it was. All he knew was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
You had such grace and were so kind. Helaena didn’t have many friends at court due to her fascination with insects. But you held all the creepy crawlers she held out to you, spent the day reading to her so she didn’t have to pull herself away from the bugs.
You were younger than him, but he didn’t care. He liked the way your voice sounded as you read to Helaena, how you laughed when she would whisper out name ideas for her bugs and then look to you to see if the name suited the bug, how you smiled at him when you would catch him sitting just far enough to not be seen but to hear.
You left with your father, and then a year later he heard a servant that you’d been taken to Winterfell to see how you’d pair with Cregan Stark.
After he lost his eye, he told his mother it was a fair trade, and that he’d gotten Vhagar in return, so it didn’t matter. But after he heard Rhaenyra speak of you to Daemon, of her hopes to marry you to Jace, he back tracked.
When they returned to King’s Landing from Driftmark, he told his mother he felt like he deserved to choose his future bride- and that he would want you in return for his lost eye. Truly the rest was history; she brought the request to Viserys stating that it was the least he could be given after what was taken from him.
Viserys allowed it but stated that it would have to be on your father’s terms on when and how if he agreed. It was no surprise that he did agree, though. Lord Tyrell is a proud man and agreed after a few years of discussion and persuasion.
“My lady,” Your thighs involuntarily press together at the way he says it, like he owns you; and he does.
He smirks at the way your body reacts to him just speaking, “May I touch you?”
You moan and breathe out a whine, “If you’d like,”
He pulls away from you just enough to remove the shirt from his body, and then he grabs your hands and places them on his chest.
“I’d like it if you would touch me as well,” His request comes out confident, almost like a demand. Almost everything he says causes more and more heat to flood your body and your lower stomach.
Your shy hands trace over the whole expanse of his chest, rubbing, squeezing, light scratching. Your eyes stay on his face, drinking in every reaction. The way he opens his mouth and lets out a breathy gasp, how his eye closes, and head goes back when you scratch lightly over his pectoral muscles.
With a sudden surge of confidence, you slowly move closer and place a light kiss on his neck. A quiet groan leaves his mouth in response, and you take it as encouragement to continue. A hand moves to your head, lightly holding the back of your neck in place as you suck and bite as he did to you.
You don’t register that he’s been moving you backwards until your knees hit the bed, causing you to gasp and pull away.
Both his hands are back on your face as he slowly lowers you so you’re lying flat, you go to question him when he doesn’t join you, but to your confusion he moves to his knees between your legs.
“What are you-“ The question dies on your tongue when you feel his hands move up your thighs and close to your core.
This is definitely not normal. You’ve never heard of this being part of any bedding. In a panic your hands rush to his face as it gets closer to your core, “What are you doing?”
His eye finds yours and studies your face before smirking, “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, wife.”
Before you can respond you feel his tongue on you, no- in you.
“Oh, gods.”
It’s really unlike anything you’ve ever felt, it’s nearly overwhelming. All you can feel is him. His hands on your inner thighs holding you open for him, his fingers gripping so hard they’re surely leaving bruises, his tongue, gods his tongue.
A finger lightly traces at your entrance, teasingly. The finger makes its way inside you as he sucks on your clit.
“Aemond,” He pulls away at his name leaving your mouth, eye finding you with your head back and hands clutching the bedding at your sides so tightly your knuckles are turning white.
His free hand reaches for one of your own, intertwining your fingers, eye not leaving your face as he adds another inside you, scissoring the two of them lightly while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.
“Do you feel good?” His tone is slightly cocky, but when your eyes look at his face, you see he looks slightly shy.
Before you can respond, his fingers curl inside you and you’re eyes are squeezing shut as a sharp whine leaves your mouth. He hums thoughtfully at your reaction before doing the same thing again, again, again until.
“Oh, please, please, please,” Your nails are digging into his skin, so hard it may be drawing blood, and your thighs begin shaking by his head when his mouth finds your clit again. His fingers don’t falter inside you until your voice pitches up due to the overstimulation.
You finally open your eyes and watch as he sticks the two fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth before looking at you with a smirk as he leans his head back down to lick from the bottom of your cunt back up to your clit.
Wheezing, your thighs move to close themselves as both your hands reach for his head to push him away from you.
Aemond lets out a laugh as he pulls away from your cunt and crawls up your body. Big arms cage you in as he looks at you with something akin to adoration.
“You taste so good,” He says it in such an attractive manner, you’ve never though any words like that would sound so good coming from someone’s mouth. “Would you like to try it?”
You flush at his words, embarrassment filling you before you nod shyly. His smirk deepens as he presses his mouth to yours.
You moan at the feeling of his mouth back on your own, gasping when his hands places itself on your breasts and tweaks with your nipples, and Aemond takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth when you do.
The taste is slightly sweet, slightly bitter. Tangy, would be a better word, maybe like a Dornish wine or an orange. His cock is straining in his pants as he presses himself up against your cunt, the size takes you by surprise. It feels large, much bigger than his fingers and much too big to fit inside you, but between the feeling of his hands on your breasts, the heat coming off of his bare chest where your hands dig into his shoulders, and the taste of yourself on his mouth as his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth.
A surge of boldness fills you and you remove a hand from one of his shoulders and reach between the two of you, grabbing lightly and unsurely at his cock. The action causes him to pull away from you as a surprised moan leaves his mouth.
There’s a fire in his eye as he looks at you, watching you as you look up with him with uncertain yet shining eyes at everything you’re feeling for the very first time. At his hands no less.
A smirk crawls it’s way back on it’s face, “Do you want to make me feel good, little wife?”
“Yes,” Your answer causes him to let out a pleased hum, but to your confusion he pulls your hand away from his cock.
“Next time I’ll teach you how to please me the way I did you. I don’t want to overwhelm you this time,” His eye holds tenderness as he says the sweet words that light your body on fire.
“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Your shy words cause a sympathetic smile to show on his features.
“Many husbands don’t care for their wife’s pleasure,” His hands are untying the laces on his pants as he moves up from the bed to strip himself of them. Pride fills him when your eyes widen at the site of his cock.
It’s long and thick, it sits hard and proud up against his stomach, almost hitting his naval. It’s as pale as the rest of him, slightly red at the tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and down his shaft, your eyes follow it to his balls. There also big, no surprise. The hair so pale that if there is any, you can’t see it. They look heavy, almost uncomfortable.
“Does it hurt?” The question spills out of your mouth, and Aemond wants to laugh until he sees how serious you are.
“No, it’s just uncomfortable,” You’re wide eyes find his face again, another question that almost makes him laugh.
“Will it fit inside me?” You really don’t think it will, or if it does, it’ll be in your stomach. The though makes you nervous.
“We’ll go slow, if you’d like,” He crawls back on top of you, hands finding your thighs so he can fit his body in between them.
His cock is hot against the skin of your thigh, the tip lightly brushes your folds causing you to shiver. His hand grabs at the base of his cock, guiding the tip from your clit to your hole, then back up. Little gasps leave you every time it bumps against your clit or catches on your tight hole.
Aemond holds a lot of restraint, but he can only hold so much, “I’m going to put it in now,”
He looks to you for you to consent, but tenses when your hands shyly reach up at the leather straps of the patch covering his eye.
“Can you take this off?” Your eyes hold no fear, just slight uncertainty.
His face doesn’t change at all, “I’d rather not scare you-“
“I am bare before you, as your wife. You could be bare for me as my husband, as well.” You’re voice doesn’t shake at all, for the first time all evening, he notes.
With a sigh, he takes his hand from your thigh and closes his eye as he takes the patch off. He doesn’t want to see your inevitable reaction of fear or disgust before you turn over and have him take you from behind.
Aemond flinches when he feels your hand tracing his scar, from his forehead, over the sapphire in place of where his eye should be, down to where it ends.
He hears you take in a shaky breath before your mouth is diving up towards his, and for the first time all evening you’ve taken control of something. He enjoys it, the way your tongue forces its way into his mouth.
He kisses you back with the same amount of energy, sucking on your tongue and nipping at your lips until you pull away. His eye studies you, the lust filled look in your eyes and flush covering you with swollen, wet lips.
“You may take me now, Aemond,” The words are but a whisper, but he hears you clearly.
His cock is, now, painfully hard as he nods and tightens his grip so he can carefully guide himself inside you.
He hisses though his teeth at the feeling of your cunt, slick and warm and tight, enveloping his cock. You’re the tightest thing he’s ever felt.
An animalistic feeling nearly overcomes him. He feels a primal need to shove his cock all the way inside you, rip through your maidenhead and fuck you full of him. He want to see your blood on his cock as he thrust inside you, fill you full of him, fuck you so hard there’s no questioning if his seed took tonight.
The feeling is slightly different for you. The stretch is uncomfortable, and it stings slightly, it causes you to feel so full you may burst or overfill. He goes slow, like he promised, but you can feel his body shaking above you as he restrains himself from taking you like an animal.
When he reaches the barrier of your maidenhead, he halts, “I have to push a little harder, here,”
A flash of fear flashes through your eyes for a brief moment before you nod for him to continue.
With a shaky exhale, he pulls back slightly and then pushes forward sharply, a little too sharply. Because the next thing he knows you’ve got tears streaming down your face and his pelvis is flush with yours. It’s hot and so, so tight. It, you, feel so fucking good.
His mouth is hanging open slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to gain control over himself. When he looks down at you, he feels guilt coarse through him.
“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” You take not that while his voice doesn’t sound sorry, his eye shows that he is. Hands reach for your cheeks so he can wipe the tears that have been falling from your eyes away.
You remove an arm from around his shoulder and move your hand to grip at a wrist that is by your face, “It’s okay-“
His voice is strained, “Oh, fuck, it’s not. I told you we would go slow,”
His eye holds guilt, but you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks above you. No eye patch covering his features, his hair, though still pulled back, slightly messy, sharp facial features gleaming in the moonlight and the light from the fire.
He thinks you look unreal. Hair, still slightly curled, sits around you beautifully, eyes are gleaming with stars in the despite the tears from the pain still lingering, lips bruised and swollen from his own mouth.
“You can move now,” He looks unsure at your words and goes to speak his protests, but you interrupt. “Take me, husband.”
He obliges to your demand, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward. He goes slow at first, in and out at a steady rhythm, relishing in the moans and gasps and whines that leave your mouth, the chants of his name Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.
He dips his head to kiss your cheeks, down your jaw and latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he starts thrusting deeper, harder. His pelvis grinds against your clit, and between that sensation, the pace of his thrusts when his cock hits the same spot his fingers found earlier and up to your cervix, his mouth on your neck, it doesn’t take long for your cunt to start clenching on his cock harder.
A deep groan leaves him at the way your cunt grips his cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him there forever. He would gladly stay inside you forever.
He pulls away from your neck to look at you, wanting to look at your face as you cum around his cock, as you feel his cum inside you.
Your eyes are rolled back so far he can only see the whites of them, bruises litter your collarbones and neck, marks of him all over you. Your nipples are hard and brush against his chest as your back arches while you lose yourself in the pleasure.
His balls tighten up more the longer he looks at you, and he moves his thumb to your clit, pushing you over the edge after one, two, three circles over it.
“Aemond!” Your voice sounds heavenly when you moan his name. His hips don’t falter their pace nor does his thumb stop rubbing until your cunt has loosened its vice grip on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks before he grabs one of your legs.
You’re still shaking from your orgasm when you feel him lift your leg up and over his arm and onto his shoulder before he’s leaning over you. Your eyes shoot open at the newer, deeper angle.
“I don’t think-“
Before the sentence can leave your mouth, his hips pick up a pace very unlike the one you had just grown accustomed to. Your eyes cross as your hands shot up to his shoulders, trying to push him away and stop the overstimulation.
His head is thrown back in deep pleasure, groans and low moans of your name leaving his mouth as he listens to the wet slap, slap, slap of his body meeting yours. His pace picks up and becomes less rhythmic as his orgasm hits him.
You cry out his name with tears running down your face as your cunt clenches down for a third time, squeezing him so tightly that all he can do is push all the way in and let his cum flood you. His hips lightly move back and forth, fucking himself and you through your orgasms as you feel his cum fill you so much it starts slipping out around his cock and down your ass.              
He stays inside you as your shake in the aftermath, feeling sweaty and sticky as he presses his cheek against your own, breathing you in and just feeling you for a while before he finally pull back just enough to look at you. Bodies still pressed together, cunt still plugged with his cock to hold his cum in, to make sure it takes. To make sure his son is filling you.
His eye is holding yours in a stare, and a soft smile takes over his face as you smile up at him tiredly. He feels something warm ignite in his chest as you look at him, the glow of the orgasm, the smile on your face, a sparkle in your eyes that looks like stars.
Aemond presses his mouth to yours before you can say anything. He wonders to himself if he can light your world up the way you’re already doing his.
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howdoesagrapewrites · 5 months
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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈
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Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.
Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy
Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2  🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust
>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?
>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either
>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too
>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep
>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available
>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected
>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life
>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness
>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely
>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned
>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart
>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys
>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?
>But the day finally came, where you had to leave
>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea
>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around
>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts
>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious
>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go
>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela
>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well
>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please
>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right
>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion
>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling
>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone
>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched
>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.
>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"
>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse
>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate
>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see
>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty
>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain
>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked
>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy
>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company
>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that
>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs
>But some of her words were now cryptic to you
>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you
>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night
>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye
>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?
>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did
>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye
>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters
>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?
>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye
>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you
502 notes · View notes
spaceyaemonds · 1 year
Text
starry eyes sparking up my darkest night
pairing: aemond targaryen x female!tyrell!reader
summary: aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both. 
warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism (? just incase?), out of character aemond (?), i think thats all?
notes: REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG. i am a whore for a villain. aemond is so hot i love him. this is a side blog, i just didnt want to post on my main blog, im fairly rusty at writing smut, so any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!! please interact if you see this because i think tumblr hates me:((!! title credits: call it what you want by taylor swift
word count: 5.3k
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The wedding had been lovely, truly, but you think everyone could tell your heart wasn’t really in it. Few smiles reached your eyes, and you couldn’t lie that a part of you had felt slightly devasted you were being married in the Dragon Pit in the sight of the Seven, and not the Godswood in Winterfell that you’d come to love during your time in Cregan Stark’s presence many years ago.
You’d thought it was a grand wedding, perhaps too grand for the marriage of a second son, but Aemond is a Prince, so what did you know, besides that and the feeling that the Hand and Queen were trying to sway your father’s loyalty to them when King Viserys joins his late wife, perhaps even go as far as to hope for the favor of your lady mother’s family.
An extravagant weeklong event. Tourneys and hunts and beautiful dinners with lots of dancing. Many lords and ladies had come, many of your friends from childhood present and even your eldest brother. It made the evening feel less lonely for you to be in the presence of people you know so well.
You had been surprised, however, to see the Princess Rhaenyra present with her husband (uncle?) and their children. You heard often of the animosity between the two families, and you were sure she wouldn’t have come. You’d been even more surprised when she had approached you at, a smile on her pretty face.
“Lady Tyrell, you make a most beautiful bride,” She smiles fondly at you.
Aemond tensed next to you, so did the Queen when her next words left her mouth before you could even let out a proper thank you for her compliment, “Though, I must say I am disappointed that your father had not chosen my own son to be your husband. We were heavily in discussion regarding it.”
Your eyebrows furrow as your head turned over in the direction of your father who was seated to your left, “I must say, Princess, I did not know I had many suitors.”
“Why would she want to marry your Strong son, dear sister, when she had better offers?” Aemond spit the words out hatefully at the same time you try to answer her, glaring over her shoulder at the son in question. Jacaerys.
You’d met him on a few occasions, and he was a kind boy. A little closer to your age than your now husband. You didn’t think you knew him well enough to warrant any sort of affections from him, but you suppose that doesn’t matter, since you’d only met Aemond once as children before your father received the letter of the marriage offer from the Hand of the King.
“Aemond,” Alicent had hissed through gritted teeth, “this is a joyous occasion, one you had wanted so desperately. So, please, do not.”
Your now husband huffed out a bitter laugh before grabbing his cup and drowning the rest of his drink. You furrow your eyebrows at her words and look to Aemond slightly confused. He wanted to desperately marry you?
Rhaenyra ignored his comment and stayed looking at you, eyebrows having a slight furrow at your words, “You are a beautiful young woman and you come from one of the great houses, I can promise you that your father was drowning in marriage offers. But I do hope you will be happy here, with my dear brother.”
She walks away before you could say anything, tensing to stop a flinch when Aemond slammed his cup down harshly.
“That fucking cunt. How dare she come over here and say all those things. As if we did not just get married. As if your husband is not sitting right fucking next to you.” He was seething, and it honestly shocked you. You have barely even spoken to him; you really didn’t think he even liked you much.
“Aemond, you will watch your mouth in front of your wife,” Alicent spoke out, slightly baffled that he would say such things in front of you, in front of your family.
Your father is tense next to you, and you place your hand on his own and squeeze. This can’t be that bad. You can endure it.
As you look at Aemond, you can’t help but wonder if he will even be so bad. As if he can hear your thoughts, his hand moves to rest tenderly on your own.
The rest of the evening blurs together until Aegon stumbled his way over to where you were seated, “I believe we should be approaching the bedding ceremony soon, dear brother?”
And though his words had been directed at your husband, you felt his lust and drunk eyes on you. The mention of the bedding ceremony had you tense, and Aegon’s eyes don’t do anything to soothe your nerves.
“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Aemond spoke without a waver in his voice. What?
Aegon’s head snapped towards his brother, “And why the fuck not? It’s tradition.”
Aemond hummed, unamused, “I will not make a spectacle of my lady wife.” His words make your heart soften slightly
“She will not be your lady wife for long if there is no proof.” Aegon tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.
“There will be blood on my sheets come morning and a babe in her belly,” Aemond spoke as he stood up, towering over his older brother before he moved his face close enough to where no one, except you- much to your embarrassment, “though I do suppose if you are that concerned, you may stand outside my quarters and listen for the confirmation that my marriage has been consummated.”
Aemond takes your hand and pulls you from the room after that, moving quickly as if attempting not to be noticed.
“Why are we not doing the bedding ceremony? Is it not tradition? Will we not get in trouble?” Your voice is slightly panicked at the idea of getting in trouble for not doing what you are supposed to do, causing him to stop outside the door of his chambers and look at you.
“I would not feel like a very good husband if there were a bunch of old men with greedy eyes seeing your bare body before I got to see it,” He looks serious, and he sounds it as well. Though his voice lowers slightly into a possessive tone when the next words come out, “I also would not like anyone to see it after I do.”
                                                        εїз
Large hands take the many pins out of your hair before gently starting to unknot and remove the many intricate braids the servant girls spent hours doing not long ago. It feels like a waste, makes you feel as if you are a spectacle for viewing and gawking at only.
Which you suppose you are- if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been lucky to inherit not only your mother’s beauty, but as well as the charm that all the women from your lord fathers house seem to have.
You wonder why he insisted that the handmaiden leave, from what your mother told you it was typical of them to prepare you for the upcoming moments.
Your hair is abandoned for the strings at the back of your dress once Aemond has removed all the braids. The air is cold on your back and your hands are shaking when his own move to touch your bare skin in a way that no one else has. One hand is on the nape rubbing in an almost affectionate way as the other moves to pull the extravagant gown from your body.
You didn’t think you could get anymore tense than you already were, until your wedding dress dropped from your body unceremoniously onto the cold ground.
Goosebumps cover your body as you’re fully exposed to the cold air, despite the fire going in the fireplace. His hands move to map your body, starting at your shoulders and slowly moving down to your hips.
His lips on your neck causes you to gasp in surprise, your belly warming at the feeling of not only his lips on you but his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the skin and biting back a grown when the reach your ass.
His mouth moves from your neck to your shoulders, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin as he makes his way down your back. You close your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling stirring inside you, a surprised gasp escaping you when a dull bite lands on your hip.
You feel his smile against your skin as he does the same to your other hip before he stands up to make his way around your body.
He stands in front of you, fully clothed still despite having taken off all of your clothing, leaving you bare for him to feast upon with his eye.
Aemond’s hands are calloused and rough, you assume from years of sword training and dragon riding, as they caress your face. His bright eye locked on yours, watching for any reactions. Thumbs trace under your eyes, over your nose, and your lips.
“Have you ever been touched this way?” His voice is quiet as his hands move down your neck towards your collarbones.
“No, my Prince,” Your voice pitches up at the end when his mouth finds your neck again, his teeth piercing your skin again.
“Not even your own hands?” His tone is serious but the smirk you feel against your skin lets you know he’s teasing.
You feel your face heat up at his implication. “No. Never.”
Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your words, soft voice stirring something primal in him.
His mouth is on yours before you can think of something else to say. His lips are a little dry, something you didn’t notice when he kissed you earlier at the wedding. One hand grips your hip as the other tangles into your hair, tugging lightly causing you to gasp. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
It’s an unfamiliar feeling, all of it is, though. You’re overwhelmed and throbbing at your core.
Can he hear your heartbeat as well as you can? It’s pounding in your ears along with a rush of heat that takes over your whole body.
His tongue coaxes yours to move against it, and you wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. If you’re supposed to feel this good. Are you even allowed to feel this good? Your handmaiden had told you on many occasions      that men only cared for their own pleasure, and you would be feeling a lot of pain. This didn’t feel like anything she described.
Aemond pulls his mouth from yours and looks at you with a hooded eye, pupil so blown you can’t see the blue of it. There’s a light flush on his cheeks as he looks at your swollen lips.
“You are quite beautiful, my lady.” It’s said so quietly, you wonder if it was supposed to be a secret. You’d like to know all his secrets, you think.
When you don’t respond, his mouth attaches itself to your neck. A sharp pain if him biting is followed by a light sucking as if to soothe it.
You aren’t sure where to put your hands, they’ve stayed at your side due to your shyness and uncertainty.
“Have you been with many women?” The question leaves your mouth before your mind even processes that you’ve asked it.
His mouth stops moving against your skin as your blood runs cold, shaking, and wide eyed when he pulls away to look at you.
Sharpe eye studies your features, like a lion about to eat a lamb. Or, perhaps, a dragon ready to burn a rose.
He steps back, taking your hand as he sighs and looks away from you in, shame?
“When I was thirteen, Aegon took me to a brothel. Told me it was time to get it wet,”
You grimace at his word choice, but when you see how he’s looking at you, you squeeze his hand.
“To put it lightly, my dear lady, it was not a very nice experience. I have been with very few women since,”
Shame fills you at his words, and before he can continue you speak quickly, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to push you into speaking about an event you-“
His hands are back on your face, holding your cheeks, “You are my wife.” It’s a statement, and his words come out slightly harsh, “You are entitled to every piece of me. I will tell you everything you wish to know about me,”
His kiss is full of fire this time, claiming your lips with such an intensity. His body is pressed full against yours; you can feel his toned chest through his shirt. The fabric is soft against your chest, and as if they have a mind of their own, your hands start grasping at them hem of it desperately.
“Aemond,” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name that way, he likes the way it sounds. Desperate, needy. Maybe he just likes that it comes from you.
Aemond was nine the first time he saw you, still had both eyes back then. You’d been visiting the Keep with your father. The King wanted updates about something, Aemond didn’t know or care what it was. All he knew was that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
You had such grace and were so kind. Helaena didn’t have many friends at court due to her fascination with insects. But you held all the creepy crawlers she held out to you, spent the day reading to her so she didn’t have to pull herself away from the bugs.
You were younger than him, but he didn’t care. He liked the way your voice sounded as you read to Helaena, how you laughed when she would whisper out name ideas for her bugs and then look to you to see if the name suited the bug, how you smiled at him when you would catch him sitting just far enough to not be seen but to hear.
You left with your father, and then a year later he heard a servant that you’d been taken to Winterfell to see how you’d pair with Cregan Stark.
After he lost his eye, he told his mother it was a fair trade, and that he’d gotten Vhagar in return, so it didn’t matter. But after he heard Rhaenyra speak of you to Daemon, of her hopes to marry you to Jace, he back tracked.
When they returned to King’s Landing from Driftmark, he told his mother he felt like he deserved to choose his future bride- and that he would want you in return for his lost eye. Truly the rest was history; she brought the request to Viserys stating that it was the least he could be given after what was taken from him.
Viserys allowed it but stated that it would have to be on your father’s terms on when and how if he agreed. It was no surprise that he did agree, though. Lord Tyrell is a proud man and agreed after a few years of discussion and persuasion.
“My lady,” Your thighs involuntarily press together at the way he says it, like he owns you; and he does.
He smirks at the way your body reacts to him just speaking, “May I touch you?”
You moan and breathe out a whine, “If you’d like,”
He pulls away from you just enough to remove the shirt from his body, and then he grabs your hands and places them on his chest.
“I’d like it if you would touch me as well,” His request comes out confident, almost like a demand. Almost everything he says causes more and more heat to flood your body and your lower stomach.
Your shy hands trace over the whole expanse of his chest, rubbing, squeezing, light scratching. Your eyes stay on his face, drinking in every reaction. The way he opens his mouth and lets out a breathy gasp, how his eye closes, and head goes back when you scratch lightly over his pectoral muscles.
With a sudden surge of confidence, you slowly move closer and place a light kiss on his neck. A quiet groan leaves his mouth in response, and you take it as encouragement to continue. A hand moves to your head, lightly holding the back of your neck in place as you suck and bite as he did to you.
You don’t register that he’s been moving you backwards until your knees hit the bed, causing you to gasp and pull away.
Both his hands are back on your face as he slowly lowers you so you’re lying flat, you go to question him when he doesn’t join you, but to your confusion he moves to his knees between your legs.
“What are you-“ The question dies on your tongue when you feel his hands move up your thighs and close to your core.
This is definitely not normal. You’ve never heard of this being part of any bedding. In a panic your hands rush to his face as it gets closer to your core, “What are you doing?”
His eye finds yours and studies your face before smirking, “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, wife.”
Before you can respond you feel his tongue on you, no- in you.
“Oh, gods.”
It’s really unlike anything you’ve ever felt, it’s nearly overwhelming. All you can feel is him. His hands on your inner thighs holding you open for him, his fingers gripping so hard they’re surely leaving bruises, his tongue, gods his tongue.
A finger lightly traces at your entrance, teasingly. The finger makes its way inside you as he sucks on your clit.
“Aemond,” He pulls away at his name leaving your mouth, eye finding you with your head back and hands clutching the bedding at your sides so tightly your knuckles are turning white.
His free hand reaches for one of your own, intertwining your fingers, eye not leaving your face as he adds another inside you, scissoring the two of them lightly while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.
“Do you feel good?” His tone is slightly cocky, but when your eyes look at his face, you see he looks slightly shy.
Before you can respond, his fingers curl inside you and you’re eyes are squeezing shut as a sharp whine leaves your mouth. He hums thoughtfully at your reaction before doing the same thing again, again, again until.
“Oh, please, please, please,” Your nails are digging into his skin, so hard it may be drawing blood, and your thighs begin shaking by his head when his mouth finds your clit again. His fingers don’t falter inside you until your voice pitches up due to the overstimulation.
You finally open your eyes and watch as he sticks the two fingers that had just been inside you into his mouth before looking at you with a smirk as he leans his head back down to lick from the bottom of your cunt back up to your clit.
Wheezing, your thighs move to close themselves as both your hands reach for his head to push him away from you.
Aemond lets out a laugh as he pulls away from your cunt and crawls up your body. Big arms cage you in as he looks at you with something akin to adoration.
“You taste so good,” He says it in such an attractive manner, you’ve never though any words like that would sound so good coming from someone’s mouth. “Would you like to try it?”
You flush at his words, embarrassment filling you before you nod shyly. His smirk deepens as he presses his mouth to yours.
You moan at the feeling of his mouth back on your own, gasping when his hands places itself on your breasts and tweaks with your nipples, and Aemond takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth when you do.
The taste is slightly sweet, slightly bitter. Tangy, would be a better word, maybe like a Dornish wine or an orange. His cock is straining in his pants as he presses himself up against your cunt, the size takes you by surprise. It feels large, much bigger than his fingers and much too big to fit inside you, but between the feeling of his hands on your breasts, the heat coming off of his bare chest where your hands dig into his shoulders, and the taste of yourself on his mouth as his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth.
A surge of boldness fills you and you remove a hand from one of his shoulders and reach between the two of you, grabbing lightly and unsurely at his cock. The action causes him to pull away from you as a surprised moan leaves his mouth.
There’s a fire in his eye as he looks at you, watching you as you look up with him with uncertain yet shining eyes at everything you’re feeling for the very first time. At his hands no less.
A smirk crawls it’s way back on it’s face, “Do you want to make me feel good, little wife?”
“Yes,” Your answer causes him to let out a pleased hum, but to your confusion he pulls your hand away from his cock.
“Next time I’ll teach you how to please me the way I did you. I don’t want to overwhelm you this time,” His eye holds tenderness as he says the sweet words that light your body on fire.
“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Your shy words cause a sympathetic smile to show on his features.
“Many husbands don’t care for their wife’s pleasure,” His hands are untying the laces on his pants as he moves up from the bed to strip himself of them. Pride fills him when your eyes widen at the site of his cock.
It’s long and thick, it sits hard and proud up against his stomach, almost hitting his naval. It’s as pale as the rest of him, slightly red at the tip. A bead of precum drips from the tip and down his shaft, your eyes follow it to his balls. There also big, no surprise. The hair so pale that if there is any, you can’t see it. They look heavy, almost uncomfortable.
“Does it hurt?” The question spills out of your mouth, and Aemond wants to laugh until he sees how serious you are.
“No, it’s just uncomfortable,” You’re wide eyes find his face again, another question that almost makes him laugh.
“Will it fit inside me?” You really don’t think it will, or if it does, it’ll be in your stomach. The though makes you nervous.
“We’ll go slow, if you’d like,” He crawls back on top of you, hands finding your thighs so he can fit his body in between them.
His cock is hot against the skin of your thigh, the tip lightly brushes your folds causing you to shiver. His hand grabs at the base of his cock, guiding the tip from your clit to your hole, then back up. Little gasps leave you every time it bumps against your clit or catches on your tight hole.
Aemond holds a lot of restraint, but he can only hold so much, “I’m going to put it in now,”
He looks to you for you to consent, but tenses when your hands shyly reach up at the leather straps of the patch covering his eye.
“Can you take this off?” Your eyes hold no fear, just slight uncertainty.
His face doesn’t change at all, “I’d rather not scare you-“
“I am bare before you, as your wife. You could be bare for me as my husband, as well.” You’re voice doesn’t shake at all, for the first time all evening, he notes.
With a sigh, he takes his hand from your thigh and closes his eye as he takes the patch off. He doesn’t want to see your inevitable reaction of fear or disgust before you turn over and have him take you from behind.
Aemond flinches when he feels your hand tracing his scar, from his forehead, over the sapphire in place of where his eye should be, down to where it ends.
He hears you take in a shaky breath before your mouth is diving up towards his, and for the first time all evening you’ve taken control of something. He enjoys it, the way your tongue forces its way into his mouth.
He kisses you back with the same amount of energy, sucking on your tongue and nipping at your lips until you pull away. His eye studies you, the lust filled look in your eyes and flush covering you with swollen, wet lips.
“You may take me now, Aemond,” The words are but a whisper, but he hears you clearly.
His cock is, now, painfully hard as he nods and tightens his grip so he can carefully guide himself inside you.
He hisses though his teeth at the feeling of your cunt, slick and warm and tight, enveloping his cock. You’re the tightest thing he’s ever felt.
An animalistic feeling nearly overcomes him. He feels a primal need to shove his cock all the way inside you, rip through your maidenhead and fuck you full of him. He want to see your blood on his cock as he thrust inside you, fill you full of him, fuck you so hard there’s no questioning if his seed took tonight.
The feeling is slightly different for you. The stretch is uncomfortable, and it stings slightly, it causes you to feel so full you may burst or overfill. He goes slow, like he promised, but you can feel his body shaking above you as he restrains himself from taking you like an animal.
When he reaches the barrier of your maidenhead, he halts, “I have to push a little harder, here,”
A flash of fear flashes through your eyes for a brief moment before you nod for him to continue.
With a shaky exhale, he pulls back slightly and then pushes forward sharply, a little too sharply. Because the next thing he knows you’ve got tears streaming down your face and his pelvis is flush with yours. It’s hot and so, so tight. It, you, feel so fucking good.
His mouth is hanging open slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to gain control over himself. When he looks down at you, he feels guilt coarse through him.
“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” You take not that while his voice doesn’t sound sorry, his eye shows that he is. Hands reach for your cheeks so he can wipe the tears that have been falling from your eyes away.
You remove an arm from around his shoulder and move your hand to grip at a wrist that is by your face, “It’s okay-“
His voice is strained, “Oh, fuck, it’s not. I told you we would go slow,”
His eye holds guilt, but you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks above you. No eye patch covering his features, his hair, though still pulled back, slightly messy, sharp facial features gleaming in the moonlight and the light from the fire.
He thinks you look unreal. Hair, still slightly curled, sits around you beautifully, eyes are gleaming with stars in the despite the tears from the pain still lingering, lips bruised and swollen from his own mouth.
“You can move now,” He looks unsure at your words and goes to speak his protests, but you interrupt. “Take me, husband.”
He obliges to your demand, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward. He goes slow at first, in and out at a steady rhythm, relishing in the moans and gasps and whines that leave your mouth, the chants of his name Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.
He dips his head to kiss your cheeks, down your jaw and latches onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he starts thrusting deeper, harder. His pelvis grinds against your clit, and between that sensation, the pace of his thrusts when his cock hits the same spot his fingers found earlier and up to your cervix, his mouth on your neck, it doesn’t take long for your cunt to start clenching on his cock harder.
A deep groan leaves him at the way your cunt grips his cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him there forever. He would gladly stay inside you forever.
He pulls away from your neck to look at you, wanting to look at your face as you cum around his cock, as you feel his cum inside you.
Your eyes are rolled back so far he can only see the whites of them, bruises litter your collarbones and neck, marks of him all over you. Your nipples are hard and brush against his chest as your back arches while you lose yourself in the pleasure.
His balls tighten up more the longer he looks at you, and he moves his thumb to your clit, pushing you over the edge after one, two, three circles over it.
“Aemond!” Your voice sounds heavenly when you moan his name. His hips don’t falter their pace nor does his thumb stop rubbing until your cunt has loosened its vice grip on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks before he grabs one of your legs.
You’re still shaking from your orgasm when you feel him lift your leg up and over his arm and onto his shoulder before he’s leaning over you. Your eyes shoot open at the newer, deeper angle.
“I don’t think-“
Before the sentence can leave your mouth, his hips pick up a pace very unlike the one you had just grown accustomed to. Your eyes cross as your hands shot up to his shoulders, trying to push him away and stop the overstimulation.
His head is thrown back in deep pleasure, groans and low moans of your name leaving his mouth as he listens to the wet slap, slap, slap of his body meeting yours. His pace picks up and becomes less rhythmic as his orgasm hits him.
You cry out his name with tears running down your face as your cunt clenches down for a third time, squeezing him so tightly that all he can do is push all the way in and let his cum flood you. His hips lightly move back and forth, fucking himself and you through your orgasms as you feel his cum fill you so much it starts slipping out around his cock and down your ass.              
He stays inside you as your shake in the aftermath, feeling sweaty and sticky as he presses his cheek against your own, breathing you in and just feeling you for a while before he finally pull back just enough to look at you. Bodies still pressed together, cunt still plugged with his cock to hold his cum in, to make sure it takes. To make sure his son is filling you.
His eye is holding yours in a stare, and a soft smile takes over his face as you smile up at him tiredly. He feels something warm ignite in his chest as you look at him, the glow of the orgasm, the smile on your face, a sparkle in your eyes that looks like stars.
Aemond presses his mouth to yours before you can say anything. He wonders to himself if he can light your world up the way you’re already doing his.
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tenseoyong · 1 year
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Aemond loves his little family.
He keeps a watchful eye over his children, making the royal guards seem redundant. Aemond often recalls the ridicule and embarrassment he’d faced as a child—and the resulting accident—and makes it a personal matter to maintain a keen eye over how the children behave towards each other, or how other children in the keep interact with his family.
Rarely does he let his half-sister and his nephews interact with his happy little family.
The Prince is unusually involved in his children’s lives for someone of his station—the responsibility typically laying with that of wet nurses and his lady-wife’s handmaidens—yet Aemond does it anyways.
He personally oversees their studies, and has taken the task upon himself of teaching his children High Valyrian—carefully correcting mispronunciations and gently calming them when their frustrations grow.
Aemond refused to be to his children what his own father was to him—neglectful and uninterested or show obvious favoritism for one over the masses—Aemond made sure all his children felt equally as loved and cherished, in their own ways of course.
His eldest son—Vaemon—was very much the warrior every royal family hoped the first born male would be. Aemond had a little wooden sword crafted and in the small boy’s hand before the child could fully walk.Aemond was often spotted training with the young lad, teaching his heir proper techniques and how to find and use one’s advantages.
A few years behind his first born, came Vaenya. Undoubtedly his scholar in the making. The young girl would rarely be found without a book in her grasp; Aemond would gift her with every newly published book he could get his hands on, though, she greatly favorite those of the world’s history—much like her father—and Aemond would enjoy quiet evenings spent by candlelight, the two of them pouring over ancient texts. Often, Aemond would teasingly correct her posture, “Slouching is unbecoming of a Princess~”
His darling Haelera, who—affectionately named after his sweet sister—had somehow managed to gather the same odd fascination with all things creepy-crawly, still felt her father’s warm love. Though, you could say she was a lover of animals in general, it was much easier to come across bugs of various types than an odd dog or cat in the Red Keep. Aemond listening intently to every little insect fact his darling daughter brought to his attention, and would often return from his Princely duties with a jar containing a random bug much to Haelera’s delight.
And Little Raenar could just barely toddle after his older brother and his father, yet Aemond was insistent on bringing the infant as he and Vaemon trained. Aemond supposed the young babe simply liked the sounds of metal—if the light on his face and the happy giggles that floated through the training yard each time Aemond blocked one of Vaemon’s attacks were anything to go by—but the babe seemed to enjoy the activity, or his brother and sire’s company either way, and Aemond was content with including him even if his little mind wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.
Aemond personally picks each and every dragon egg that would be placed in his children’s cradles. And while, thankfully all eggs did hatch, Aemond did harbor a bit of fear that one of his children would be left to suffer a fate similar to his as a dragonless Targaryen—and vowed he’d not have them ridiculed as he once was, that he’d comfort and adore them regardless.
He relishes in teaching his children to be dragon riders. To see the ease and joy on their faces after a their first ride, to see they have what should have been his—gaining a dragon-bond at birth, and not having to lose a part of themselves in order to gain something by sheer determination—Aemond delights in taking his little clan on family rides.
Aemond would not see his little family crumble and become scattered in the winds as his extended family had been in his youth. He insists upon the family being together during every meal, not that you’d ever begin to think of denying him that—the family being as tight knit as it was—Aemond enjoyed hearing about each member of his family’s daily activities and growing interests.
He would never be more grateful to anyone more than he was to his Lady-Wife for giving him something he’d never truly had before—the gift of family—darling children that loved each other as much as their father loved them.
Aemond Targaryen loves his little family.
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dulcewrites · 1 year
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Fool Me Once
Pairing: aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 2.4k)
Summary: Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source.
Warnings: gaslighting and manipulation on Aemond’s part, reader being slightly naive :(
A/N: I love rewatching certain eps or scenes for inspo. I got inspo for this watching the iconic knife scene. Very interested lately in writing women that eventually (and rightfully) snap after being actively harmed by patriarchy/the men in their lives. Also alys and aemond meet after the dance starts but let’s pretend they meet right before viserys passes. This will have a slightly ambiguous ending… for funsies 🫶🏽
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You consider yourself a forbearing person. Your resigned nature was natural to you, but also the way you’ve been bred to be. Your mother especially preaching that good things come to those who not only wait but keep their heads while waiting. This idea only got compounded once your family arrived at court in King’s Landing. Now you had septas, on top of your mother, teaching you the ways of a ‘proper’ lady. Demure, well read and groomed, and obedient. You did was expected because what else could you do. Your parents were in your ear telling you do not waste the opportunity in front of you. An opportunity for a better life.
For a time, you thought your mother had a point. You did as you were told, and good things fell into place. Princess Helaena and you became fast friends through your lessons. Your interest in plants crossing over with her interest in insects and arachnids. Through your friendship with her, you caught the eye of Queen Alicent.
Despite your shy disposition, you managed to get in the good graces of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. You trusted the process.
But the cracks in the restrictive facade started once the discussion marriage entered the picture. You knew marrying for love was not something everyone was afforded, but you thought maybe you had a chance. There were tries for courtships here and there, but it was something you kept putting off. The clock was ticking, and no one let you forget it. Especially after your friends, including Helaena, started getting married and having families of their own.
You still remember the thrilled smile on your mother’s face when Queen Alicent not so subtly suggested a union between Prince Aemond and you.
The One-Eyed Prince. He had been nice enough towards you. But you were sure most of that was out of sheer obligation because his mother and sister liked you. Despite the love you have for Helaena and the respect you have for the queen, the idea of marrying into the family terrified you. You saw the burden and hurt each of them carried. Even with the possibility that Aemond wasn’t as bad as Prince Aegon or King Viserys, his brooding nature still made you nervous for what a marriage with him would mean.
“Your work has paid off my sweet girl”
It took a simple sentence from your mother to change your mind. The ever growing need to be validated spurred you into a decision you’d later question.
The courtship was quick and to the point, much like Aemond. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision. Then again, happiness was not an emotion you’d seen him exude very often. You did not know what it looked like.
Throughout the courting, wedding celebrations, wedding itself and after, you two had a mutual understanding or so you thought.
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You saw the change in him. When you’re all but forced to spend your days with someone, you notice their behavior more. He’s lighter it seems. You don’t know how to explain it, but he moves different.
The only feeling you can compare it to is when you were pregnant with Daella, your daughter. For all his faults, you can acknowledge that Aemond is a good father. He was from the moment the maester told you two the news. He was attentive and uncharacteristically warm to you during your pregnancy. And then he acted as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders when she was born. Even now, he indulges her rambunctious antics and playful conduct in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. His precious byka zaldrīzes
His devotion never wanes when it comes to her. It was a different story for you and him.
It was foolish, but so typical of you. You had done your duty so well that you’re now in the position of having genuine feelings for him. Wanting your husband shouldn’t be a problem. But craving the love and affection of an enigma like Aemond is not for the faint hearted.
“Is my brother with his whore tonight,” his words were cruel, but he genuinely seemed curious. Aegon and you always had a strange relationship. He wasn’t rude though certainly not kind. You remember overhearing the way he described you after you two first met: pretty but terribly dull. You didn’t know what hurt worse: him saying that or the lack of pushback from Aemond.
“Aegon!”
Alicent gives you a pained look before pulling Aegon to side during dinner. You can tell by her scowl and his now sheepish facial expression that she’s using some choice words.
You thank the seven that Daella was asleep after a long day of playing with her cousins and wasn’t at dinner. The empty spot next to you feels vast. This is the third dinner he has missed. It never occurred to you that Aemond would seek companionship elsewhere. Now that it’s on your mind, you can’t forget it.
His whore
Aemond and Aegon are not the same. You know Aemond is not the type for frivolous intimate moments with silk street brothel women. You also know the intimacy he seeks requires knowing someone. He requires way more stimulation. Whether that is a blessing or a curse… you don’t know.
Aegon’s comment had you on high alert. Paranoid even. When Aemond is away, you wonder what he’s doing and who with. It only gets worse the sicker King Viserys grows. It shows on everyone in the family. Queen Alicent gets more anxious for what’s to come, Aegon lashes out, Helaena becomes more cryptic and silent, you wonder how this will impact your already complex relationship with this family, but then there’s Aemond. He shrugs off any ill feelings towards the situation.
At first you wondered if it is because he’s the only one that’s made peace with that relationship never being mended. He didn’t seem to seek out the same approval or explanation for Viserys’ bad parenting that everyone else still craves. With the King dying, meant the chance of change dying as well. But really his mind is elsewhere.
You know you’ve reached a new low when you try to pry information from Ser Criston. If anyone knows where Aemond sneaks off to, you assume it would be Criston. But in the end, it was wrong to go to him. Criston is fiercely loyal to Alicent and in turn fiercely loyal to her children. Though he has treated you kindly, he would never give up more information than he had to.
The idea greatly backfires when then you find yourself the one being questioned.
“If you want to know where I go, you could simply ask,” Aemond’s tone is cool and composed. It makes you uneasy.
He leans leisurely against the wall. You freeze hearing that declaration. Criston must’ve told him about your worries. It feels a bit surreal now having the opportunity to confront him about your thoughts. The words run through your head but never seem to make it out of your mouth.
“You know I like going for long rides with Vhagar,” he starts walking towards you. “She’s older; she needs to stay sharp.”
You do know that. It’s something you found endearing about him, despite how you feel about dragons.
“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much,” you manage to get it out with a forced smile. “Like you’re always away.”
He tilts his head to the side in question. You feel like one of Helaena’s bugs. Inspected and poked.
“You don’t like being around Vhagar,” he points out. “I’d love to take you with me, but you don’t want that now do you.”
You look down at your hands. He doesn’t get it. He has the blood of the dragon flowing through him. For him, Vhagar is a symbol of pride and declaration of love for his ancestors and house. To you, she’s an unpredictable power that you still think humans should not mess with. It’s better to chalk it up to you fearing versus bringing up how you really feel about them. How you share the same skepticism many people across the Seven Kingdoms do. It scares you to think about Daella getting a dragon of her own. You see the awe in her eyes when she looks at her egg or when Aemond tells her stories of the past and present that include them.
Oh, the irony of you being weary of dragons while bounded to a man who rides the biggest of them all.
“No, I don’t,” you mumble. You finally work up the courage to bring up what you really want. “It’s just Aegon said something about you, and I guess it made me think about where you go so often.”
The words adultery or whore make your tongue feel heavy, and don’t come out He sighs once he reaches you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.
“My wife do not let the thoughts of the small minded people cloud your judgment,” he leans his forehead down to yours. “You’re smarter than that.”
He’s not wrong, it is like Aegon stir things up. Aemond has a way of doing this. A way of making you feel silly with his self-assurance. He makes it easy to doubt your gut instincts. His affection has a similar debilitating quality. It’s why your head gets a bit fuzzy when he kisses you. A warm and gentle kiss that left you a bit weak in the knees. You sigh when his lips move to the sensitive spot under your ear.
“We should have another babe,” his whisper makes your eyes shoot open. “Give Daella a sibling.”
You pull away, eyes wide. As much as you loved how Aemond doted on you while you were with Daella, you also remember how difficult the experience was. How towards the end, you were basically confined to the castle as to not risk your health or the babe’s. Your every thought being on the life in your stomach.
“A little warrior would be nice, no?”
Aemond had told you he’s not picky about how many children you two have or even the sex of them. But you’re sure like any noble man, he wants his blood and name passed on as much as possible. Especially as a Targaryen. You’d be lying if you said the thought of a little boy didn’t make you happy. Your children hopefully having a strong bond.
You look at the seemingly earnest look in his eye. You nod with a nervous smile, and he kisses you again. That night being the first of many he tried to put an heir in you.
He wouldn’t want another child while his heart is not it… right?
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You gingerly rub your stomach while leaning your head back against the seat. Ever grateful that you have Queen Alicent and Helaena to keep you company and help. Taking Daella off your hands during the day while you rest, your pregnancy making you more tired.
Before you can fall asleep, your lady in waiting peaks her head in the room.
“I’m sorry to disturb you princess, but Lord Strong has requested to see you.”
Your brows furrow. You have seen Larys Strong around, but outside of that he’s been a mystery to you. A figure looming in the background but never someone you interacted with regularly.
“Send him in.”
Lord Strong comes in, small smile on his face. You motion for him to sit in the chair next to you.
“Princess, you’re glowing,” he starts as he sits. “The halls are buzzing with excitement about a new babe.”
You raise a brow. Maybe you outwardly look better than you feel because you don’t feel positively glowing. Not in the slightest. You didn’t feel this exhausted till later when you had Daella.
“Thank you Lord Strong,” you try to keep a kind smile on your face. “What can I do for you today?”
“I just wanted to check in. Let you know that if you need anything, I am always of service.”
You nod slowly, confused about where this is all coming from. What service?
“I know how stressful being with child can be, especially when the father is… busy,” he continues, leaning back in the seat.
Your smile drops. For a time, you did think things were getting better. Aemond seemed excited when you two found out you were with child again. Things were good till they weren’t anymore. He’s not around again, and now you are going to bring another life into an unstable situation. The tone of Larys’ voice makes you uneasy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t.
“I appreciate the kindness, but I do not think your um services are needed.”
He nods at that before reaching into his pocket and handing you what you assume is a letter. He motions you to read it. You stare at the outside of letter. recognizing your husband’s handwriting.
My Alys
Your hands shake as you open the letter. Your vision gets blurred with tears as certain words and phrases stand out. Miss you, need to see you, miserable at King’s Landing, love you. Your squeeze your eyes shut when you see words mistake, baby, and your name in the same sentence.
“Those pesky ravens, sometimes they do the maddest things,” Larys whispers softly. “My princess, the woman the letter is for is an… old friend of mine. If you need me to keep an eye on this or even take care of anything, just let me know. I am always here.”
You look at him as he gets up to leave, lip trembling. Your eyes move stare at the fire in front of you. Fire, blood, and dragons have all consumed your life now.
Is this why you don’t under the understand the obsession with dragons. You hate the ludicrous insistence that you can control them. That if you give them enough love and patience that they will need you the way you need them. Good behavior has gotten you nothing. Doing right by the dragons in your life has gotten you nowhere. Aemond is not yours despite the vows you took, or sacrifices you’ve made for him. The same way your children will never be yours despite the pain you take to have them.
You’ve been burned by the very dragon that’s supposed to protect you.
“Lord Strong,” you blurt before he gets to the door. He turns to you expectedly. “There is something you can do for me actually.”
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lizzie-queenofmeigas · 2 months
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Imagine being Helaena Targaryen (show version)
You are raised mostly by governesses and maids and sometimes your mother comes spent time with you and sits by your side. You don't get her, she stresses you and her presence makes you feel uncomfortable. It's not her fault that you feel like that, but she always has that energy around her that makes you feel on edge. So you back away when she tries to touch you, afraid she may pass that energy on to you.
You like bugs and insects, your mother says it's not proper so she forces you to leave them behind and focus on prayer and sewing. You hate it.
You have three brothers, but you aren't particularly close to them. Your older brother is bad, he too makes you uncomfortable, but he doesn't like you either so you stay away from each other. Your younger brother is obsessed with dragons, so much so that he tries to bond with your own dragon and take her from you. You know his obsession will only bring bad things. Your youngest brother is away, he has been away forever, by now you only know his name. You have an elder sister, she is the heir, you are happy for her, but you never talk her. The one time you tried your mother yelled at you, it hurt your ears, your head. So you don't try anymore, but sometimes she smiles at you.
You have two nephews, Rhaenyra's sons, they are just a little bit younger than you and they are kind. Your older brother often plays with them and uses them as weapons against your younger brother. It won't end well, Aemond is not the forgiving type nor the reflective type.
Your mother is mean, she is in pain so she wants everyone to be in pain too, it makes you sad. Your sister leaves the Red Keep and it somehow becomes a colder place.
Your aunt dies away in Essos so you and your family go to Driftmark for the funeral. The uncle you don't remember laughs at the eulogy for his wife. It wasn't really for his wife, it was for your nephews and your sister. You know high valyrian, you learned some from the maesters and most from your father. Your brothers aren't very good at it so they don't catch it.
When night falls everything changes. As you predicted, the obsession your brother had with dragons leads to nowhere good. He went to claim the dragon of your dead aunt without permission, he got into a fight with your nephews and cousins, his eye is gone.
He called your nephews bastards and even without an eye he laughs at the memory. You know that the word is bad and that your mother keeps saying it over and over again. You don't understand, Ser Laenor says they are his sons, so why does she insist they aren't? It's stupid and you want to say how stupid it is, but you won't because your mother will yell at you of slap you as she does Aegon. Your older brother says everyone can see it, but it's not true because you can't. It stresses you.
Your mother grabbs a dagger and charges to kill your nephew, everyone screams and you cover your ears. It feels as if they are bleeding. Rhaenyra stops your mother and ultimately nothing happens.
Your grandfather is Hand again. It's bad, you can tell by Lord Beesbury's face. And you know is bad, because he wants you to marry Aegon. Your father falls ill, he barely moves from the bed. There are whispers that say your uncle may kill your grandfather if he returns to the Keep. You pray for him to do so, but he doesn't.
Rhaenyra marries your uncle far away in Dragonstone and you are happy for them, you want to write to them and congratulate them. Your mother yells at you when she sees your letter and burns it. You want to scratch her eyes, but you don't because she will yell and hit you.
When you first bleed your mother marries you to your older brother. You are thirteen and in that same year you fall pregnant with twins. You want to write to Rhaenyra and ask her what to do. You ask your mother and she only says things about duty and sacrifice. You think you are dutiful enough and that you have sacrificed enough. Your mother doesn't, your grandfather doesn't.
You have two children and you love them, but you can handle them. They are too loud, so loud. But you love them, or so you think. Because if you don't you should throw yourself out off the window. Why don't you?
Your sister returns to the Keep with her children and husband. Your mother yells, she hates them. She yells so much you are surprised you can still hear anything. It doesn't hurt any less than it did before. Your uncle kills a man in the throne room, you cover your ears because the noise is unbearable. But it's not worse than anything else you have gone through.
There is a last dinner, your father is coherent and your mother makes an odd toast. Aemond mades a stupid one and it ends up in a fight that ruins the good day. The night ends like that, but at least you danced with someone kind. You wish you would be married to him instead.
In the following days your father dies, your mother commits treason and you do nothing. You think about going to Rhaenyra, to tell her, but it feels useless and your mother never allows you to go anywhere alone, it's been ages since you last visited Dreamfyre. There is a dragon in front of you, but it doesn't burn you, any of you. Disappointing.
Is there any reason you still live?
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flowerandblood · 10 months
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The Impossible Choice
[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]
[warnings: kissing, angst, sexual tension]
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[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next chapters: Masterlist
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For the last four years, all her sisters had spoken about was Prince Aemond Targaryen. She knew that he was to choose one of them, as agreed between the king and her father, Borros Baratheon − military intent for marriage seemed for him the right price. On the day when all the findings were confirmed he came to her, took her cheeks in his rough hands and began to speak.
“One of your elder sisters will marry Prince Aemond in a few years. But not you. I want you to stay with me." He said, kissing her forehead.
She didn't understand what he meant then, and she felt humiliated to think that perhaps he thought that she was missing something. Only after a few years did she realize that her father treated her differently than them.
Cassandra, Maris, Ellyn and Floris loved to sew, sing, play instruments, read poetry. They resembled her mother, whom she barely remembered.
Her father once told her that she reminded him of his younger sister, who died when he was only fifteen. Although, unlike her father, she could and liked to read, she went hunting with him as well, Borros watched from a distance as his son and heir, Royce, taught her swordsmanship and archery. Her father decided that she was of Baratheon blood, not her mother's, and that marriage would destroy her.
She accepted the idea that her father had other plans for her, watching her sisters, thinking that she was no match for them in maturity and beauty, their hips and breasts full, their curves graceful.
She, as the youngest of the siblings, was much smaller, her cleavage was not so plentiful, her hips were not so wide, she didn't seem fully female standing next to them, and she was glad that her father had let her escape this humiliation.
On the day Prince Aemond was to make his choice, a great storm broke out. She thought, as she and her brother walked out to the back of their fortress, that this was a bad omen from the gods.
They both flinched as they heard a monstrous, loud roar in the distance, they thought for a moment that a huge dark cloud was approaching them, and then they saw a huge beast appearing from the sky, circling above their stronghold. She felt her heart pounding in terror, shivers run down her spine.
"Do not think about it." Royce shouted at her, throwing his sheathed sword at her.
She grabbed it on the fly, her hair wet, strands stuck to her face; they often practiced in the rain and with how tense things were inside their castle, they both decided to run away and wait until it was all over.
She smiled at him, pale, drawing her sword. They slashed their blades again and again with a loud clang of steel, turning around, trying different positions. Their movements weren't fast or brutal, both of them practicing proper posture and stamina.
Though she knew that it wouldn't make sense in King's Landing, in Storm's End no one asked why Borros Baratheon's daughter practiced hand-to-hand combat.
It seemed obvious.
War has been in the blood of their family for generations.
It almost always rained in Storm's End, and when it didn't, it was usually cloudy, she was used to the fact that whenever she went outside she was all wet, and although her sisters rarely left the fortress for fear of getting sick, she only strengthened her immunity and such conditions did not impress her anymore.
She and her brother both flinched and backed away from each other when they heard a guard run down to them, shouting something at them, she had to listen carefully to understand what he was saying, as he repeated his words.
"Your father orders you to return to the keep immediately, my lady." He said, in the background of his words thunder and loud, rushing rain, she looked at her brother, but he just nodded for her to go.
"It's probably over." He said, obviously wanting to reassure her.
She followed the guard down the corridor, through the cold, stone walls of her keep, trying to keep her composure, feeling her heart pounding hard.
Which one did he choose?
Ellyn, she thought.
She had a charming smile and pleasant curves, bright eyes and ease of speech, she knew that Ellyn desired this marriage and she hoped that the prince would be kind to her sister once he was her husband.
She followed the guard into the great hall and saw her father sitting on the lord's throne, stroking his chin uneasily, her four sisters were scowling at her, grim, she sensed that something was wrong.
She turned her gaze a little to the side and then she saw him.
He was standing in a long, unbuttoned leather coat, resting his weight on one leg, saying something to her sister, but he turned to her when he heard her footsteps, the dagger and sword strapped to his belt.
She saw that famous scar and black eyepatch, his long, white hair partly tied back, there was something terrifying about him, she thought, in that animalistic, menacing look.
She felt the raindrops falling down her cheeks onto the floor, she had the impression that they would soon evaporate from the heat that she felt in her body, at first she didn't even hear her father speaking to her, unable to look away from his face, she turned to him when she heard him say her name.
“This is my youngest daughter, my prince. As I said, I felt that she was not properly prepared to fulfill her responsibilities as your wife." He said briefly, she heard impatience in her father's voice, but also something else.
Fear.
Prince Aemond didn't even glance at him as he spoke, he stared at her intensely, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"I will decide that, Lord Baratheon. Wasn't that the deal?" He asked, and that was the first time when she heard his voice.
Cold, low, slightly taunting.
She felt her hands shaking and swallowed softly, only now feeling her throat tighten, she didn't know where to look.
She saw him avert his eye from her and walk slowly, unhurriedly toward Cassandra. She looked away immediately, red and horrified, when she saw that he had kissed her, her sister gasped.
When she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he released her without giving her a single glance and walked over to Maris.
She saw him repeat the same gesture and felt tears well up in her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling of the great hall that she was standing in, where she had played all her childhood and prayed to the gods that he wouldn't do this to her.
When she heard him walking slowly towards her she didn't look at him, felt his large, cold hand grab her cheeks, forcing her to turn her face towards him. Involuntarily she drew a shuddering breath into her lungs, letting out a soft sigh, her eyes looking pleadingly at him, her mouth slightly parted in shock and fear.
His face showed absolutely nothing.
She felt him move closer to her, but hesitated for a second as she shivered all over, felt his small gesture, how quickly, almost imperceptibly his thumb squeezed and wiped her cheek, as if to soothe her, comfort her.
She looked at him again then and his lips were on hers, pressed against hers in a sticky, warm kiss, she closed her eyes and thought that it wasn't unpleasant, he smelled like smoke and rain.
She didn't purse her lips against him, but she didn't kiss him back either, she thought that he was about to break away from her as he had from her sisters, and she waited patiently, knowing that the end would come soon.
She stifled a guttural groan as his hand closed over her cheeks and he kissed her deeper, more hungrily, sending shivers down her spine.
Involuntarily she put a hand on his shoulder, as if she was both looking for support and wanting to push him away, she flinched as he let out an almost inaudible grunt when she touched him.
He pulled away from her with a wet click and she looked down, red with embarrassment. He didn't let go of her cheeks and was silent for a moment.
"Her." He said suddenly, her heart stopped.
She looked at her father in horror, but she couldn't get the words out of her throat, she heard Ellyn sob loudly, burying her face in her hands.
She thought that it was impossible.
Her father seemed as shocked as she was.
"…as I was saying, my prince…" He began, but Prince Aemond let go of her face, turning tensely as he walked slowly towards the entrance, without glancing at her once more.
"I have decided." He said loudly, coldly, leaving through the main door, outside the windows they heard a loud thunder, which shook the fortress.
She heard her heart pounding loudly, didn't even know when tears were streaming down her face as she slid helplessly to her knees, trying to catch her breath.
She heard her sisters sobbing, Cassandra came over to her, pushing her angrily so that she collapsed on the stone floor.
"How dare you touch him?! He's a prince!” She screamed, possessed by humiliation and pain.
"Enough!" Their father shouted, rising from his throne, running his hand across his face.
"All of you, go to your chambers. Now!" He shouted impatiently, dismissing them with his hand.
She stood up, but she felt her body moving on its own, her mind leaving her loins and drifting away, as she walked down the corridor she met her brother who was speaking to her, apparently asking her a question, but she moved past him, heading for her chamber, closing the door behind her. She slid down, sitting on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chin.
She felt her whole body tremble in convulsions as if she had a fever, she tried to tell herself that it was all a dream, but then she felt his fleshy, full lips on hers again, his hand cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing over her face imperceptibly.
Her stomach tightened at the thought, terrified that she liked this feeling.
They had all been humiliated by him, but especially her sisters.
She thought that they would never forgive her.
They'd wasted years of their lives, preparing to be married to the man who stole their first kisses and then chose their sister who wasn't even considered.
She wondered why he did it? What drove him?
She wasn't even wearing a gown, didn't have her hair combed, didn't look like a woman, a highborn lady.
She thought that he was mocking them and her, that it was his cruel joke, a punishment for the king and queen for forcing him to marry against his will.
Her sisters pretended that she didn't exist for the next few days, when she came to join them during supper, they got up from the table and left.
Her brother comforted her by saying that they were taking it out on her for their misfortune, but she didn't feel better.
All nights since he chose her she cried, burying her face in the pillow.
Her father had no words of comfort for her either. Even though she knew he wanted to, he couldn't keep his promise to refuse him. He hadn't expected this turn of events and was furious, but breaking the agreement with the crown was out of the question.
She wouldn't even dare to ask him to do it.
The prospect of marriage and wedding night left her in a state of constant shock, she knew nothing about these things, and her sisters wouldn't tell her even if she wanted to, her mother was dead and she couldn't ask anyone what it looked like, what she should do, how to behave.
She thought that it would all be a series of endless humiliation.
After a few weeks, Lord Baratheon received a letter from the queen, informing him of the expected date of the nuptials. She was to arrive in King's Landing in the next few days, to properly prepare for the ceremony and acclimate.
She wanted to vomit at the thought.
Her father then hugged her tightly as he had when she was a small child.
He was a big, aggressive, sometimes even boorish man, but she had never known another lord who loved his children so dearily.
"You are of House Baratheon. Nobody will break you." He said, taking her face in his hands and kissing the top of her head, she pursed her lips at his words, not letting tears leave the corners of her eyes until she heard him disappear behind the door.
The night before she left for the Red Keep she couldn't sleep. Her sisters still didn't speak to her, but she and Cassandra always had the closest and warmest relationship. She needed the advice and comfort of another woman.
She took her candle in her hand and walked down the corridor towards her chamber. She opened the door, peering inside timidly, her sister frowned at her, confused.
"What is it?" She asked coldly.
She swallowed softly at the tone of her voice and closed the door behind her, walking slowly to her bed, sitting on the edge of it without looking at her. There was silence between them for a moment.
"I'm scared." She said, her lips quivering hard, her eyes were already red from crying, but she felt tears welling up again under her eyelids, heard her eldest sister shift uneasily under her covers.
"Please, tell me what to expect." She whispered, looking at her pleadingly, her sister stared at her dispassionately.
"Pain."
She swallowed softly, terrified, the way she said the word sent shivers down her spine.
"What do you mean?" She asked softly, her voice trembling at the very end of the question, betraying her desperation and fear.
Cassandra looked at her for a long time before answering.
“You have a duty to fulfill. You must give the prince an heir. This is your only task. Do you know how this act looks like?" She asked, and her younger sister shook her head quickly, looking down in embarrassment.
“The man lies on top of you, between your thighs. He inserts a part of his body into you, from which fluid will flow out, thanks to which you will be able to bear his child. With any luck, he won't tear you apart from the inside." She said indifferently, her face proud, her eyes cold.
She swallowed hard, feeling her whole body tremble, what she was saying sounded terrifying, foreign and painful, she couldn't imagine anyone putting anything inside her body. She clenched her hands on her knees.
"Does it hurt a lot?" She mumbled, feeling herself shiver all over, her sister exhaled loudly through her nose.
"They say the pain is indescribable."
She nodded, swallowing softly, thinking that perhaps this would be some kind of punishment for taking away from her sisters what they wanted.
She decided that she would accept what was about to happen with the greatest dignity as she left her chamber without a word.
That night she did not fall sleep.
The next morning everything was ready and her ship was waiting to take her to King's Landing. She threw herself into her brother's arms, for the first time in her life she saw him cry.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered into her ear, squeezing her tightly, his stubble scratching her cheeks pleasantly as usual, she stroked his hair, closing her eyes.
"Don't worry." She whispered, breaking away from him.
Then her father approached her, also unable to refrain from an affectionate gesture, he kissed her cheek and pulled away from her, pressing his lips together.
She knew that if he could, he would have kept her.
She looked at her sisters who were standing in the distance, only Ellyn rushed to her, bursting into sobs and hugged her tightly. She embraced her, and walked up the long plank, to the deck of her ship.
The journey wasn’t long, but it still felt like an eternity for her. She felt great tension, terror and fear, Cassandra’s words rang in her ears, filling her with anxiety.
When they finally arrived, a man who looked like a knight was waiting for her, she recognized him as Ser Criston Cole, she had seen him fight in royal tournaments more than once. He bowed to her, giving her a calm, gentle smile.
"My lady. Welcome to King's Landing."
_____
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oddduckthatgirl · 8 months
Text
Pray For Us Sinners
Title: Pray for Us Sinners
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader
Warnings: religious guilt, religious themes, discussions of sexual themes, smut
Summary: Aemond thought himself to be a devout servant of the Seven. Until her.
A/N: I tried. Really. Don’t hate me.
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Aemond rolled over, restless in his bed. He growled in frustration. Sweat covered his bare torso, the sound of his own breath was ragged in the darkness. His thoughts drifted to his betrothed; even his darkest ones. The brush of the cover over his hardness made him groan.
He was beyond frustrated. His stones ache with the memory of her laughter. He longed to hear all the sounds she could make.
Tossing the covers off his overheated body, he begins pacing the floor of his bedchamber. He never felt temptation like this before. He is a faithful servant of the Seven, despite the wrath he would love to unleash.
Lust was a new affliction to him, but he’s seen through his brother exactly the ruin it can bring. Aemond had decided long ago he would not be seduced into depravity like weaker men. He always kept proper distance with any woman he encountered. Never letting his gaze linger too long or speaking in a manner that would be offensive.
Deep down, he did not believe women to be less. They are mothers, sisters and daughters and should be treated with dignity. He couldn’t understand why anyone who called himself a man could hurt these precious gifts from the Seven. It was true he had seen a few women he thought were attractive but he put them out of his mind. They were allowed to just be beautiful without him imposing himself on them.
It was so simple. Until her.
Aemond thinks of the day they were introduced. He was convinced this would be a marriage of convenience. To keep the peace. Her family were very devout followers of the Faith and his grandsire thought the match to be amenable. Mother believed this girl to be an ideal match based on her faith and her love of reading. Aemond thought she sounded pleasant enough according to the letters; that her portrait was pleasing.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her leaving the carriage that day. The way her golden hair shone in the sun. The shade of pink that painted her cheeks when her dark eyes met his pale one. Her voice saying “my Prince” was the finest song he had ever heard. The way her dress accentuated her shape without it being vulgar. Everything about her is exactly as it should be and more.
Then this feeling began. He was always hot blooded, fire beneath his skin. This, however, was different. Every word she spoke, every shy glance his way, and every touch burned through him. No woman he had ever met had this effect on him.
He decided that he would have to devote himself even more to the Seven. He needed guidance and strength. He knew he deserved it. All he needs to do is ask and the Seven will grant him all he needs.
He doesn’t wish to insult his lady or her virtue. He wanted to be the husband she deserved. She is a pure lady and shouldn’t even be in such lecherous thoughts.
Their wedding was in a sennight but it might as well be six moon turns away. He longed for her presence beside him but it was agony. He wondered if she felt this burning as he did but of course he couldn’t ask. That would be improper. He was sure she felt something. Her face flushes when he kisses her hand. Her breath catches when he pulls her close.
….but his lady wouldn’t trade in depravity. She spends much time in prayer, which he has taken to accompanying her to the Grand Sept. However after seeing her kneel in prayer, that pose has been imprinted into his mind. He had great difficulty concentrating on anything but how tight his breeches had become.
Ashamedly, he has used that image of her kneeling to sate his lust. He imagined standing in front of her, fingers tracing over her perfect face. The way her breath would catch when he said her name. Asking her to show him her devotion. The way she would accept his thumb pushing past her lips. The feeling of her hand unlacing his breeches. How warm her mouth would be as she took his cock. The sounds she would make.
Aemond played these thoughts out time and time again. Especially at night. Sleep would elude him for hours and even if he did drift into slumber he would dream about taking all the pleasures of the flesh with her. He would take his cock in hand, hissing with the first stroke. Never had he been so hard that it hurt. He wanted her, every way he could. Pumping himself while thinking of her lips on him instead of his hand made him a simpering mess. Writhing against the cool sheets of his bed, his moans echoed off the walls. Once the tightness would begin to coil, he would cup his stones while he fisted himself with a tighter grip. His peak would wash over him in moments; her name falling from his lips.
He could find sleep after that but when he would wake shame gripped him. He hates himself for his thoughts and actions. He would pray to the Father to not succumb to this weakness and to be forgiven for wasting his spend on his own pleasure. He would find it difficult to meet the eyes of his Lady the rest of those mornings. She would smile shyly at him and he was once again lost.
He was desperate about these feelings, so he turned to Aegon. Thinking that perhaps just once his brother would give helpful advice.
“Claim her, brother,” Aegon whispered, “all that needs to happen is ceremonial at best. The only way to get rid of temptation is to give into it.”
“We must be wed first. I will not tarnish the good name of my Lady or her house!”
“You fucking virgins. So consumed with your purity and chastity. It’s just fucking.”
“It is NOT just fucking. You give a piece of your soul to them. Every time. Perhaps that is why you have none left.”
“Save your lecture. The only other option is to relieve yourself anyway you can. There’s always the street of silk….or you do it yourself.”
Both options were not what Aemond wanted. He wouldn’t lower himself to visit a pleasure house. Relieving himself was the only suitable option, even though the thought filled him with shame.
It began only at night, after he was alone. Then he would find the need arising after breaking his fast with her and then again after any time spent together. It was affecting his training; he was distracted. He didn’t even read as much as he once had. His thoughts were consumed with her and his need to claim her.
He gripped the edge of his desk tightly now just to keep his hands away. His need is throbbing, begging to be touched. He slammed his fist down against the wood. Why was he so weak? Then she would drift into his mind: her hair falling over her shoulders, the look of complete devotion she has, the cut of her dress…
No! Aemond shakes his head as if to throw the thoughts away. He tries to think of anything else. Small council meetings, mother’s singing, time…yes, what time has it become?
Aemond gathers it must be near the hour of the wolf. The city is sleeping soundly while their Prince suffers. Lust has a hold on him: mind, body and soul.
His soul. That’s it. Now would be the best time to pray. Surely with the world asleep the Seven could hear his prayers without question. He hurriedly dresses, puts on a dark cloak and makes his way from his chambers down the secret passage that leads out from the Keep.
The streets are nearly empty except for a few beggars sleeping there. Aemond is careful to ensure his face and hair are obscured from view. No sense in any passerby to question the presence of a Targaryen Prince at this hour.
Concentrating on his journey to the Grand Sept keeps his mind busy. The need still burning in his veins feels less desperate for the moment. Thankfully the distance was enough for him to calm himself. He’s grateful that he will be able to have his wits about him for this.
He opens and shuts the doors as quietly as possible. Not that he believes anyone would be here, he still wouldn’t want to disturb them. He stands in the entryway and takes a breath. His mind is more quiet now.
He walks towards the altars, confident in what he will ask for until he hears a sound that stops him.
Her. His Lady. Begging.
“Please Maiden, I wish to be pure for him. These desires are consuming me. I do not want him to reject me. I carry such affection for him in my heart. But my thoughts….,” she lays prostrate while sobbing into her hands.
She does feel what I feel. I also carry much affection for her in my own heart, Aemond mused. He cannot bear the sound of her tears. His chest aches to hear her in such pain. He wants to rush to her side, take her in his arms, and hold her until the tears abade.
He slowly approaches. He doesn’t wish to startle her, “my Lady?”
She pulls herself to her knees and turns to face him, “my Prince! Why are you here at this hour?”
He rushes to keep her from standing and instead kneels beside her, “I was restless.”
Her breath catches as he wipes the tears from her eyes, “thank you,your Highness.”
“It’s just us and the Gods. You may call me by my name here.”
Her cheeks flush, “as you wish Aemond.”
His resolve nearly breaks at just his name from her lips, “what troubles you? I would be happy to listen if you wish to unburden yourself to me.”
She begins to speak but silences herself for a moment, “I cannot tell you. This…it’s not befitting a proper lady,” tears well in her eyes again.
Aemond pulls her into his arms and holds her while she cries. Even though the sound breaks his heart, he will not leave her to her tears. Running his fingers through her hair, he presses a gentle kiss against her temple, “all will be well ñuha jorraelagon. I’m here.”
“Not if I unburden myself. You will be completely repulsed.”
He takes the edge of his cloak and begins to wipe the wet trails on her face dry, “you would be amazed at my resolve.”
“I have no doubt of your resolve Aemond,” she wheezed as new tears threatened to fall, “it’s so shameful I fear you will find me to be unworthy of marriage.”
“No more tears. Please. It wounds me to see you so distraught,” he takes her hands in his, “perhaps we can just be still for a few moments. Find peace in this Sept together. Will you try for me?”
She frantically nods her head.
“Good. Let us close our eyes and just breathe together.”
He watches as her eyes close and she bows her head. It caused the fire in his blood to heat once more. He quickly closed his eye and began to concentrate on keeping his breath steady. He also listened for her. He tried to not think of how warm her soft hands were in his. He needed to be strong for her. To help her.
They sat quietly, hand in hand for several moments. Aemond noticed when her breathing became calm. Tension rolled out of his shoulders knowing that at least he could help calm her.
“Aemond,” she whispered in the silent chamber, “why could you not find sleep?”
He opened his eye to see her soft expression. It was one of concern. He kissed her hands before meeting her gaze, “sleep has been elusive as of late.”
“Are you well? Is it,” she glances at his scar, “perhaps the maesters….”
“All they will wish to do is give me essence of nightshade to help me find sleep. Or worse believe I have pains and wish to give me milk of the poppy. Those are not the reasons I do not find sleep.”
“If it is not physical, may I guess you believe something weighs on your soul?”
He swallows thickly, “Something does indeed.”
“And I have kept you from your prayers. Forgive me.”
She begins to pull away but he grips her hands tighter, “please. Stay with me.”
A soft smile accompanies her words, “of course Aemond.”
“I would like to propose something. First I swear to you that no matter what you may say, I will never judge you or wish you gone from my side. Can you make me the same promise? To not judge me or wish me gone?”
“Yes. I swear.”
Her tongue wetting her lips nearly has Aemond lunging for her. He shifts his focus back to their joined hands, “I did not intend on anyone else to be here. When I entered and heard a voice, I thought….it isn’t important. I heard the last part of your prayers.”
Hanging her head in shame as he mentions her prayer, “I am not worthy of you.”
He leans forward so their foreheads touch. Aemond feels a hot tear slip down his cheek, “it is I who isn’t worthy of you.”
She shakes her head, “impossible.”
“Ñuha jorraelagon, the things I have wanted…from you…someone must know what I have imagined. What I have done.”
“Aemond,” her voice waivers, “it is shameful. This sin...”
“We are all sinners my Lady,” he states simply, “we are asked to unburden ourselves with confession. It is only then we can begin to do penance and seek absolution. It should not matter who we give our confession to, just that we make it known and seek to atone for it.”
“You are correct,” her gaze shifts to the face of the statue before them, “I don’t even begin to know how to atone for this.”
“Would it put your mind at ease if I told you of my sin,” a plea in his voice. He needs her to hear him. That is the price of his lust.
“Could you tell me what is your sin?”
He nods, swallowing his fear before he speaks, “Lust. Lust for my betrothed.”
She draws a shaky breath. Her eyes drag over his body, “I too have lust for my betrothed. I have tried so hard to not think of you that way…”
“In what ways do you think of me, sweet girl?”
“That you are a good man. You are kind, despite what you would have others think. You are a man who values his family and those he holds dear. Unlike other Targaryens, you are a man of the Faith.”
“You are too kind to me,” a genuine smile is on his face, “but that is not what brought you to the Sept at the hour of the wolf. I swore not to judge you. I will not.”
She closes her eyes, “it’s just….your hands. I find myself thinking of them. How it feels when you take mine in yours or how safe I feel when you hold me. Then I wonder about your hands on….other parts of me.”
Despite her confession, Aemond takes her hands in his. His chest is heaving; he can feel his heart pounding. The fire is back, “Other parts?”
“Yes,” her own ragged breath sounds too loud in this place. She places his hands on her thighs, “everywhere. In my weakness, I have imagined what your hands would feel like on my bare skin. In….inside me.”
“Tell me,” he flexes his fingers away from hers while dragging them toward her center, “you are a lady of virtue. What do you know of a man’s fingers touching a lady?”
She bravely meets his gaze, “My sister….she never wanted for me to suffer at the hands of a cruel lord. She told me things about my body, of pleasure. Things I now imagine you doing to me.”
“What things,” he felt as though his senses had left him. He’s now so depraved that he’s harder than he’s ever been, on his knees in a Sept alone with his betrothed.
“Things,” wetting her lips before she continues “I have done with myself alone in my chambers at night. I would imagine you touching me instead. I’m so lost to my sin that I wait for the night to come so I can revel in my depravity. It consumes me.”
Aemond gently cups her cheek. He does not trust himself to leave his hands on her thighs, “You desire me.”
“Yes,” no second thoughts to her answer.
“Then I have nothing to fear. For I have desired you from the moment we met,” he brushes his thumb over her lips, “this very moment I am fighting the desire to capture your lips with mine.”
She gasps, parting her lips. His fingers trace a line down her neck and along her collarbone. His eye focused on the swell of her breasts and the small hint of cleavage.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms and you are mine. You don’t even know how beautiful you are. The hold you have over me. I would burn every city in Westeros if they dared to speak against you.”
“Aemond….”
“I want to spend every moment with you but I am weak. Even the most innocent way you smile makes me think of all the ways I wish to let this realm know you’re mine. My shame doesn’t end there my lady.”
She kisses his fingers and takes his hands in hers as if they were folded in prayer, “unburden yourself to me, my love. Although my love sounds much better the way you say it. I wish I could say it well enough.”
“You will learn,” he suppresses a groan at the thought of hearing her speaking High Valyrian, “the reason I could not find sleep is I was trying to resist my desire. Today, while we had walked in the Kingswood, that rider passed too close to you. Do you recall what I did?”
“You pulled me back against you, to keep me safe.”
“I did. However, in doing so, my thoughts were not innocent. The friction of your body against mine was too much to bear. When we returned to the holdfast, I excused myself from you. I was worried that I would no longer be able to control myself. I went back to my chambers and lost myself in the thoughts of claiming you. In truth, when I felt your body against mine, I wanted to bury myself inside you.”
Her mouth went dry.
“I went back to my chambers because I needed to relieve myself, as I have done every night. So, I fisted my cock while thinking of how warm and wet you would feel around me. About the sounds of pleasure you would make as I touched your pearl while thrusting myself deep inside you. I can think of nothing else. I have my hands on my cock more than my sword.”
It felt too hot in this stone building. Both of them flush with color from their shared confessions.
“Whatever are we to do Aemond,” pressing her knees against his, “we are not yet wed. We cannot let this control us.”
He nodded and cupped her neck in his hands, “it will not control me any longer.”
Aemond stands and offers his hand to help her from the floor. As soon as she is standing, he pulls her body against his. Her eyes dart around the room, “Aemond!”
“Did you make the journey here alone my Lady,” he purrs in her ear. She can only meekly nod in response, “good.”
He presses his lips to hers and both of them moan. Luckily their sound is muffled. He was desperate and wanting. She was pliant in his arms. His hands explored the curves of her body, squeezing the parts he enjoyed the most which elicited a gasp from her.
He silences her with his lips again, swallowing every groan he makes. Her hands travel along the lean muscles of his torso and chest, then up his arms, only to land in his hair. When he slipped his tongue between her lips, her grip tightened in his silver locks. It only seemed to encourage him more.
He pulled away suddenly, “we shouldn’t be doing this here. Someone will find us. Surely the Septa’s will be here for their morning prayers soon.”
She nodded in agreement.
“Come. We should return to the Keep while we still have the cover of night,” Aemond pulled his cloak back over his head and ensured she also concealed her identity. He watched for anything out of place, “stay close to me.”
She could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. It made her center ache with want. She knows she cannot give in but she would like nothing more.
They quietly made their way back to the Red Keep. Thankfully no one was yet out in the city to have seen them. Aemond led her up the stairs to the passage back to his chambers.
Once inside, he removed his cloak and saw her taking in his space. Soon these would be their apartments in the holdfast. He stands behind her and whispers, “let me take your cloak my Lady.”
She watches his hands slip to the clasp of her cloak. He was painfully slow opening it but once he removed the fabric, his lips were on her neck. Soft, warm kisses up to her jaw line. He pushed himself against her backside, “see the effect you have on me.”
He spun her around and again captured her lips. He couldn’t get enough. It was like he had been starving. They both held so tightly that she hardly noticed his hands pulling a leg over his hip until she felt her skirts rise.
“What are you,” yelping in surprise as he lifts her with ease to the foot of his bed. Shame burns within her as she whines, “Aemond…please…we cannot.”
He climbs over her body as she lays against his bedding, “I will not take your virtue this night. But it would please me to hear more.”
Before she can ask what he meant, he grinds his manhood against her clothed center. Their shared moans ring through the chamber. He repeats the motion to much the same result.
“Do you wish me to stop,” his eye meeting hers as he kisses the swell of her breasts, “I will ensure you get back to your chambers without being seen.”
“Please continue,” she rasps, “I fear I might die if you stop.
He chuckles darkly and continues, “gods…I can feel your wetness through all of our clothing.”
She attempts to cover her face but Aemond claps his hands around her wrists, pulling her arms over her head. He kisses down her neck as he rolls into her, “Gieve. Just like this. Never hide from me.”
She wails when his movements become faster. She locks her legs around him. She feels the way her body begins to tighten. She has never felt this, even when she is by herself, “Aemond…what’s…I feel strange…”
“All is as it should be,” panting as his pace is beginning to falter, “don’t fight it. Give into it.”
He kisses her again, the want evident in the way he captures her lips. They are both a whining mess of sound and heat.
Aemond feels her hands tightening against him, “let go for me. Don’t fight it.”
His eye goes wide as she falls over the edge of pleasure. The sounds she makes goes directly to his cock. Soon after he shouts her name as he spills into his breeches.
He pulls himself to lay beside her. He takes her hands and presses soft kisses on her fingers, “please forgive me. I have forced this upon us. I thought I could control it. Instead…”
She watches as panic paints on his face. She quickly reaches for his face; he doesn't shrink away even as she is touching the scarred side.
He pulls himself into her and sobs, “please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I told you I was not worthy of you.”
She strokes his hair, “we promised not to judge the other. I am not judging you. You asked if I wanted you to stop and I did not. We should seek the forgiveness of the Seven for failing this small test.”
He nods as she rocks his body, “we should pray. Now.”
“I agree.”
He sits up and offers a hand to her. He kneels first. Looking up at her he sighs, “you are far more than I deserve.”
She kneels in front of him, “you are more than I deserve my Prince,” shame heats her cheeks, “what if someone hears?”
“Not here. The walls are quite thick,” his gaze fixed on her.
“We should begin,” she bows her head and begins her prayers with thanking each of the Seven.
Aemond joins her, repeating the same words he’s heard since he was a boy.
He also offers his thanks when they have finished, “I wish to thank the Maiden for sending this perfect wife to me. I’m sorry that I would let my lecherous thoughts taint her purity. Forgive her slight as I was the one who enticed her. I seek the Father’s forgiveness for my weakness. Give me the strength to not tempt her or myself further.”
“I thank the Father for sending me a man of Faith as my husband,” she smiles at the words, “forgive his slight as he did nothing to sully my virtue. He is but a man and I, a woman. I seek the forgiveness of the Maiden for my vile thoughts. Help me to not be a temptation. Let my virtue warm him until we are wed.”
The silence between them is broken by Aemond, “we shouldn’t…we cannot do this again even though it was…”
“Yes. Even though,” she agreed, “I should go.”
He nods in agreement, “at least let me lead you back through the passages. They can be confusing.”
She grabs her cloak and allows him to escort her back. She more than likely would have lost her way on her own. He pushes the hidden door open and listens for any sounds, “it is safe.”
She enters her chambers, “it will be morning soon.”
He presses a soft kiss against her forehead, “then you should try and find rest. We will have long days and longer nights ahead of us.”
“Go before I ask you to stay,” sighing as he releases her.
He takes one look back at her before disappearing into the passageways. Now that he is alone with his thoughts again, he relives what has occured. If he can endure this night, six more days should be far more simple.
Aemond settles himself back into bed as quickly as he can upon entering his chambers. He nearly drifts off when a sweet smell drifts to him. Her. The fire in his veins is rekindled.
“Seven help me.”
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Text
Consequences | Prologue
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Summary: Only nine and ten, she does not know much about the world and when she acquires a job at the Red Keep as a maidservant, she catches the dark and ominous attention of the One-Eyed Prince. Unsure if she even wants it, she may realise that the realm is not so kind to lowborn women, regardless of the situation they find themselves in | Word Count: 1.4k~ | Warnings below the cut!
Series Masterlist
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, dub-con, mean Aemond, manipulation, gore, blood, violence, major angst
A/N: This is intended to be a dark one, so please read all the warnings before continuing. Warnings will be highlighted when needed. Aemond’s gonna be pretty mean, self-serving and not at all very nice in this one! Basically a spoilt prince reaping the benefits, so beware. You know me, I love a bit of angst.
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She liked being early to rise.
It meant that for a few small moments, she could pretend that the hallways were all her own. However brief they were. It was a small slither of peace for the young maidservant. 
That was at least until the Red Keep began to wake. The murmured whispers of the staff to one another, organising the various meals for the royal family, making sure their clothes were ready and prepared, ensuring that their rooms were neat and tidy for their arrival back to their chambers and drawing their baths at their behest.
It was tough work at times, but it was good, honest labour and for her services, she was paid much more than she could have even dreamed of. That said, most of it was sent to her younger siblings where she could spare it, but it was still entirely novel and rewarding to earn her own coin.
It was a fine, clear day like any other. The servant’s quarters were bustling with busy maidservants, rushing around after their allocated jobs. Most of the other maidservants were of a similar age, but their temperaments fierce away from the forced politeness they were obligated to offer the royal family. It could very often get catty. And sometimes it was best to say little at all, where it could be helped. People talked, gossiped and made fun for themselves in the dreary, everyday lull of being at the behest of King and Queen. She did not blame them for making said fun, but perhaps it was naïve of her to believe it could be done without cruelty.
One particular girl, who was not much older than her, assumed a role akin to a elder sister amongst the little band of maidservants. She had chestnut hair that was braided like the other staff, in plaits and pulled behind the head, stuck with pins and out of the way. Her name was Hedi and possibly short for something, but she dare not ask.
“Ah, there you are,” Hedi smiled in a sing-songy way, gesturing for her to come and join them, “You are to go to Prince Aemond’s rooms and take his clothes with you. He will be expecting for his old bedsheets to be taken away,” she instructed, oblivious to the way the little maid servant's eyes widened. 
“Hedi, I have never-”
“Better you meet him now and get it over with, child,” she responded, pushing the bundle of clothes into her hands, ignoring the unsure look on her face. 
She had heard many things about the One-Eyed Prince. Aemond Targaryen. The second son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent.
Since her employment at the Red Keep only a few moons ago, she had rarely seen any of the royal family with the exception of infrequent refills of their wine decanters at the dinner table. And even then, it was rare she could get a proper look at any of them as the halls were dark and lit only by candles at the table, obscuring some of their faces.
She had only heard stories of them.
Upon employment, Alicent had instructed Hedi that the new staff were not to be around her first son, Prince Aegon, by any means necessary. And though at the time, Hedi was not given any more information, she told the rest of the maidservants that she surmised that some wrongdoings caused the previous staff to leave King’s Landing altogether, moon tea in their bellies and a purse of gold dragons to keep their silence.
This did nothing to calm her nerves though, for she sometimes saw him walking around the Keep. Though she was advised to not spare a glance, she felt the weight of his eyes on her, and the other maidservants said the same.
Princess Helaena was a sort of anomaly. Nobody ever really saw her. Or perhaps she just made less of a fuss compared to her brothers. The few times she had seen the Princess at the table, Helaena had been staring forward at her plate, murmuring things under her breath.
That only left him, the One-Eyed Prince everyone so lovingly called him. 
She had seen him only once, to her knowledge, at the aforementioned feast. He had been sitting at one end, his seeing eye downcast, looking anywhere but at the individuals he called family at the table before him. He seemed to not move an inch throughout, as if deep in thought. 
She took a deep breath and walked the long, winding path to the main halls of the Red Keep, along the corridor where Prince Aemond’s chambers would be. She whispered to herself that it would be alright, that the other maidservants were just trying to rile her up with fear for the man, for they’d said that he frightened them terribly. 
Willing the shake out of her breath, she stared at the door for a while, thinking that perhaps if she waited for a moment it’d be easier. But it just sent her heart racing even more. Her small fist gingerly knocked. 
“Prince Aemond,” she called softly. 
There was a moment of silence and muffled rustling inside the chambers, presumed to be his bedsheets. 
“Enter,” a groggy, male voice called out in return. 
Without thinking on it for another moment, she quickly slipped inside and though she did not mean to, her eyes briefly looked upon the Prince in his bed, halfway through sitting up tiredly. But her eyes were quickly drawn away once she had realised that there were no clothes on his person, and so with pinkened cheeks she darted to the chair and placed the clothes atop it, making sure everything was there for him before drawing the curtains. Feeling somewhat flustered and out of sorts, she brushed the wayward curl from her face that had fallen loose from her braids and felt that hot annoyance as it continued to tickle her face. 
She ties the curtains together to keep them drawn and her heart quickens when she hears him get out of bed, stretch with a tired groan and pad over to the table near the fireplace. He pours himself a drink of water and is quiet for some time. 
“You are not my usual maid,” he says and when it is clear he is speaking to her, she turns around finally, offering a small nod. 
He is tall, almost unnaturally so. He wears only his nightclothes on his bottom half and leans against one of the armchairs, regarding her with an indescribable look in his one good eye, the other has a sapphire wedged inside, and she thought it must be uncomfortable to sleep with it. For a moment, she swallows nervously, he is broad and strong looking, but not in a burly way, and on his fair skin of his bare chest she can see several scars, all silver from age and hairline thin.
“No, your grace. I was sent to attend to you today,” she responds, shockingly evenly, clasping her hands in front of her before nervously smoothing her hands over her apron.
She sees the way his tongue pokes at his cheek, seemingly annoyed, “Hm,” he responds as he sips his water, “Will you be attending to me from now on?”
Her tongue wets her lips nervously, “I am not sure, your grace.”
He seems like he wants to say more, but he just stands there, across the room, looking at her and enjoying the way she continues to shrink under his gaze.
She pushes that stray hair behind her ear once more as she moves to strip the bed, working quickly and without looking back towards the quiet prince. She can tell however, how his gaze never seems to leave her, watching her with interest. 
“What is your name,” from his lips it almost doesn’t sound like a question, more a demand.
Wound tight with anxiety, she tells him her name, which only makes him turn one side of his lip up in some form of a smile.
Once she has all the sheets folded and ready to take away, she stands with hands clasped, “Is there anything else I can do for you this morning, your grace?”
He taps his finger against the glass he’s holding, as if in thought. And it’s extremely difficult to avert her eyes from the firm planes of his chest, but for the sake of politeness and her position, she forces herself to.
With a soft shake of his head, she gathers the sheets in her arms and makes for the chamber doors and her hand barely brushes the handle before his voice calls out her name.
“Yes, your grace?” she answers, a dusty pink covering her cheekbones with her nerves.
With a genuine, mischievous looking smirk, he strides widely towards her and her eyes never leave his face, feet planted firmly where she stands.
“I want you to attend to me from now on.”
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General Aemond Taglist (DM me if you want to be removed)
@risefallrise​
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madame-fear · 10 months
Note
Request Enemies to Lover Jaecarys Velaryon. Btw, can you make the reader is the youngest child of Viserys and Alicent?
So, When the reader and Jace still a kid. Jace always teasing the reader, so she hate him. And when Aegon, Luke, and Jace prank Aemond about "The Pink Dread" The reader is mad and punching Jace in the face. When at Driftmark, after the incident of Aemond lose his eye. Jaecarys give the reader a necklace.
When they grow up, they meet again (smut)
*ೃ༄ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘.ೃ࿐
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★ amira speaks : i hope this is what you expected, nonnie !! apologies for my notorious beginner smut writing, and if it seems rushed. — summary : maybe you were never keen about the presence of Jacaerys Velaryon, especially due to the way both of you treated one another so badly, and he was involved with the removal of your brother’s eye. But things change when you both grow, and he returns to King’s Landing. — word count : 4.2k
— pairing : jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targaryen!reader — genre : enemies to lovers, smut
TW | incest, fingering, slight profanity.
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The golden dragon hanging from the end of the necklace you usually kept safe on the nightstand next to your bed brightly shone along the flames of the lit candles in the grand library of King’s Landing, leisurely taking a stroll around with echoing footsteps before having, what you could call in a way or another, a family dinner.
The fingers of your free hand gently began twirling the necklace around the fingers you used to hold the locket, gazing down upon it curiously. You had never worn said necklace, and you were, strangely, beginning to doubt whether it would be a proper moment to finally give use to it, or not; as Princess Rhaenyra would return to King’s Landing with her children after years of having moved to Dragonstone.
The necklace was given by none other than Jacaerys Velaryon himself, Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son, and your nephew. Despite being your nephew, ever since you had use of memory, your relationship wasn’t exactly the best. Ever since childhood, you were one another’s existing bane. Jace continously picked on you, teasing you, and annoying you in general for the mere satisfaction of seeing you get frustrated at him. And for his own fun, as well.
Fighting with Jacaerys as children had always been a constant trouble for both your parents. Arguing for little things, pushing each other, having him ocasionally pull your hair to bother, sticking your tongue out to one another, and even, when your older brother Aemond was teased with The Pink Dread for not having his very own dragon yet, you went as far as using your own physical strength to punch Jacaerys in the face in front of your siblings.
After such event, and being badly scolded by your parents for the fight even if your mother thought you did the right thing, things had never gotten any better. The already tense relationship between the two of you had seemed to worsen when Lucerys took Aemond’s eye after claiming Vhagar. It seemed to have worsened the relationship in the entirety of the family, forcing Rhaenyra to move to Dragonstone.
But before they officially left King’s Landing, you were gifted a golden necklace with the figure of a dragon hanging from the end by Jacaerys. Noticing how you were disheartened by the way your brother Aemond brutally lost his eye and you spent the entirety of the time after the fight that lead to the incident trying to comfort him, part of him felt a certain hint of guilt by simply observing how much of a genuinely concerned, and loving sister you were even if Aemond deserved to lose his eye.
Reluctantly, even if the slight thought of forgiving him and/or his brother for what they did to your brother never crossed through your mind, you accepted his gift merely out of politeness; quietly thanking him afterwards with a disdainful expression on your face. And Jace wasn’t expecting any less, but that was the first time that he understood how you felt with a slight compassion, knowing you didn’t have anything to do with the irresponsible actions of your siblings, and you were much calm and tender than they would ever be.
Though, none of you had spoken to each other after that to keep contact. Not even through raven letters, and neither you had worn the necklace Jace gifted you because of what it represented to you, and the appalling memories that came with it. But, for the first time after quite some years, you supposed it would be proper to wear the locket as they would arrive back to the Keep for a few days. Not because Jacaerys had given it to you, simply because you were filled with the pride of how dragons carried the legacy of your House.
With a bit of an abrupt movement, your stroll stopped; lifting your gaze from the necklace twirled around your fingers, observing the bookshelves to scan for your favourite book. The moment you found it with your stare, an exhaled huff escaped harshly from you, not recalling to have placed it in a bookshelf you obviously weren’t able to reach due to your height.
A faint jingling sound was made as you continued to firmly, yet carefully hold the necklace while you began to clumsily tiptoe. You extended your hand as high as you could reach, trying to at least get the book drop to the floor and have the opportunity of taking it in your hands. Several frustrated huffs were heard rolling off from your nostrils, barely grasping the book with the tip of your fingers.
You never realised you weren’t the only one passing through the library, until another hand appeared by your side, and took the book you were continously trying to reach with no success at all, lowering it to you. As you turned around to see who had been the one to help you reach your book, you encountered yourself with Jacaerys, much to your surprise. You had expected him and the rest of his family to arrive a bit later. You wished you could deny the fact that, he had grown up and matured for the better good.
“Nephew. I had expected to see you later, in the evening.” with a gentle movement, you took the book from him as he offered it to you. His arm then returned to hide behind his back, along his other arm. The same way you thought he seemed much beautifully matured, he thought you were absolutely endearing. A true Valyrian delicacy. “And so did we, but we arrived earlier, and decided to revisit King’s Landing after many years before the evening dinner.” he retorted.
The prince’s coffee coloured gaze towards your own seemed fiery. The atmosphere was tense, but strangely enough it was not a spiteful tension. His eyes moved from your own, to your other free hand, holding the necklace he had gifted you as a young boy. Tilting his head a bit, a brief jeering grin formed upon his plushy rosy lips. “Delightful to see you once again after many years, aunt. And even more delightful, is to see you holding the necklace I gifted you.” as much as he himself wasn’t pleased to admit it, such gift was a way of apologising for the incident with your brother’s eye, having noticed how you grieved the moment along Aemond, comforting him every second of it. Discreetly you nibbled on your lower lip, holding tight the book against your chest and fixed your stare on the necklace.
You might have forgotten to actually use it on you. But you were caught off guard, having assumed they would arrive for dinner. “Don’t feel too cocky. I was simply going to wear it tonight out of politeness for you, and because dragons greatly represent our legacy as House Targaryen.” he gawked upon you, seemingly scanning every inch of you as you spoke. Throughout the years after the eye incident, he had assumed you certainly looked more graceful than ever, and he wasn’t wrong in the slightest bit. “I see.” was all he said. His arms remained behind of him, sneering at you. “May I have the honours of helping you put the necklace on, aunt?” though his inquiry seemed oddly suspicious to you, you slowly nodded, extending your arm, and passing the necklace to his hand. “You may.”
Jacaerys swiftly took the necklace from your hand, approaching you with quiet footsteps to stand behind of you. The Prince, with a gentle movement of his fingers removed part of your hair that covered the back of your neck, tossing it to one side. The vainilla scent that you carried was charmingly intoxicating his nostrils, it made him feel dumbfounded. And most certainly, it was a scent that Jace would never get off his mind.
Jace brought the necklace around your neck, fastening it securely. He then took the pendant and delicately placed it in the center of your chest, adjusting it until it hung perfectly. The golden dragon shape brightly shone, hanging near your cleavage. Once he was done, he stepped to your side, admiring the way the necklace highlighted your beauteous features. It was the first time he ever saw that necklace on you, and the sight wasn’t disappointing at all.
“You look very beautiful. The dragon pendant highlights your beauty, aunt.” his fingers glided the necklace, until it slowly reached the dragon near your cleavage and lifted it slightly with his index finger to observe more carefully. His compliment, as much as it was a mere teasing provocation to watch your cheeks become flustered, there was no lie in it.
Curiously, you raised your eyebrow, feeling how a crimson tint slowly crept on your face at his compliment. It was a strange behaviour, keeping in mind how you were his existing bane, and you were his. It had always been that way, but not anymore, it seemed. “I would expect you to say I look like a jester, but I will accept that kind compliment.” a sneer escaped from his lips at your remark. You were right, a few years earlier he would have refered to you as some sort of jester to merely annoy you, but Jacaerys had no more need of provoking a frustrated reaction out of you.
“You don’t look bad yourself, nephew. But may I ask, what changed?” jacaerys discreetly leaned closer to you as you spoke, in a way that you could even feel the warmth irradiating from his body. Ever since the incident with your brother’s eye and the necklace he had gifted you as some sort of apology, deep inside of him quite some things changed. The point of view Jace had on you was now different; you weren’t your brothers, you were a much sweeter soul even if both of you spend your entire childhood together fighting with one another, and he had realised that the momebt he moved to Dragonstone.
A brief moment of silence loomed over you awkwardly. A sigh escaped from him before answering, feeling a bit flustered himself, especially noticing the way you gawked on him. “After the incident with your brother’s eye, I realised how different you were from the rest of your siblings. You were much sweeter and calmer, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself at that moment.” a little grin danced at the corner of your lips upon hearing his words. He had indeed changed in every sense, even if you were still reluctant of 'befriending' him. More mature. “I never wanted to send a raven letter because I felt too embarrassed, supposing you would probably ignore them. But after that moment, you always lurked on my thoughts, imagining how gracefully you must’ve grown. And I wasn’t wrong.”
Tenderly as he spoke, your footsteps brought you closer to him, placing a warm hand on his arm. You knew the previous flustered glint on your cheeks had simply grown to become even more notorious, especially after his statements, but there was no shame in hiding it anymore. You remembered how upset you were as you stood by Aemond’s side to overwhelm him with sisterly comfort, rather than focusing on the Velaryon boys to try and physically fight with them in defense of your brother. You remembered exactly how you supported your brother’s statement that, Vhagar had chosen her new rider and Aemond had all the rights to claim her. But, there was something different in having him gifting you something before moving to Dragonstone after the chaos provoked on your families due to the loss of Aemond’s eye.
Even if you never supported what they did to your brother, you understood why they both defended themselves the way they did. And Jace had no particular fault in the moment.
At the feeling of your touch, his body stiffened. The way his heart beat felt fiercely accelerated, as if it could come out of his chest at any given moment. Briefly, he lowered his gaze to your hand on his arm, but returned his coffee eyes back to your own as your other hand was placed on his cheek comfortingly. “And I couldn’t agree with you any more, Jacaerys. After your gift, I couldn’t help but wonder how you must’ve looked all grown, and today I was particularly keen in meeting you again.” the tension lurked between the two of you, as if there was something much more than an aunt re-encountering herself with her nephew, whom was her childhood enemy and were always involved in fights with one another.
This time, it was him who was victim of a notorious fluster spreading across his cheeks. The warmth of your hand could make him melt right under you, and even softly released from his lips a trembling, quiet sigh. It was hard to control himself in front of you. So hard. Jace had never thought that the idea of needing you in every possible sense would ever reach him. He would’ve preferred to despise you like he always did, but this time he had to fight the urge of lowering his face, and kissing your beauteous lips.
Timidly, his hands were placed on your waist, holding a firm grip on them as he pressed your body against his. Jace was a bit dumbfounded at the idea of you seemingly genuinely being eager in meeting him again after the first time in many years — and even wearing the necklace he gifted you! It was like a dream, almost. “(y/n)...” your name slipped from his lips mindlessly as the tip of your thumb tenderly caressed his soft, pale skin in a continous movement. Your hearbeat mimicked his own, unbeknownst to Jace. The nerves overwhelmed you greatly, causing for your hand to slightly tremble.
His lips were partly open unconsciously. You needed him, like he needed you. Tiptoeing, you allowed your deepest, well-hidden desires come out to light for once and for all. For a moment, your lips insecurely grasped against his own, but it was already too late. Fluttering your eyes shut, your lips took his own with a smooth movement to drown yourselves into a shyly needy kiss. It was the first time you had ever kissed a boy, but for Jacaerys it already seemed like you had proper experience.
Both of you moved your faces and your lips just enough to properly kiss, and feel the depth of your feelings. The hand that caressed his cheek swiftly moved to the back of his head, interwining your fingers around the brunette strands of his hair, as the other hand gripped his arm nearly with your nails. A fiery heat sensation escaped from your bodies, as the eldest Velaryon tightened his grip on your waist, trying to pull you as close to him as he could.
Each other’s breathing sent ticklish sensations against your skins, giving slight shivers. His hands slowly descended to your hips, warmly caressing them. None of you could hide what you had felt for a long time, not having been able to express it after the incident with your brother’s eye. A quiet plea escaped from you in between the fervent kisses upon feeling his hand teasingly rubbing itself around your hips.
“Nyke dōrī ēdan lust tolī ao, sodjisto. Yn nyke gaomagon sir.” (I had never felt lust after you, aunt. But I do now.) he softly whispered in High Valyrian, grasping his lips against your very own to tease you, before he gave into the sweet taste of your mouth again. His grip tightened, both of his hands swiftly descending to the underpart of your bottom. Quietly, you gasped. “Urnēptre ziry naejot nyke.” (Show it to me.) you retorted confidently with a growing grin at the corner of your lips, pulling apart softly to stare into his eyes.
Those words were all he needed to hear to interwine both of his hands under your backside with a strong grip, and lift you from the floor, nearly tossing you to over his shoulder as if you weighted less than a feather. Carrying you and walking some short steps, he placed you on the nearest table the library had; being a rather large, wooden table enough for you to sit on it.
“You asked for it.” the prince growled under his breath quietly, leaning his face closer to your neck, until the point that his soft breathing and the feeling of his plushy lips tickled your skin tenderly. Not that he planned to do much to you as you were in a public place, and you risked the fact that you might get seen by someone who passed by. But, he did intend on leaving a good, pleasing memory scarred across your mind. With gentle pecks across your neck near your jawline, his hands travelled across your legs. His fingertips glided on the silky texture of your dress in a leisure manner, appreceating every second of the moment.
You briefly leaned your head back, allowing him more access to your skin, much to his delight. The soft pecks turned into slight nibbling, using his teeth to try and mark your neck. And, how sweetly you tasted. Every bite, every kiss, and every touch he gave you, only increased Jace’s craving for the entirety of your being. How could have he hated and teased you once?
A little drowned pant escaped from your lips, feeling how your underwear grew wet from the stimulation he was giving you. His fingers slipped inside your dress, gently lifting it to your knees, continuing to feel every inch of your delicate skin as he approached your thighs. Your legs trembled, as if they screamed to feel more of him. His fingers were wrapped around the waistband of your underwear, slowly beginning to slide them down through your legs to tease you. The quiet panting and the lipbiting that came from you was more than obvious that you were more than needy. And so was he, but he knew how to keep it perfectly hidden.
As he removed your underwear, his fingertips went back to your thigs, sneakily making their way to your crotch. A quivering sigh was abruptly exhaled from you, trying to move your pelvis closer to his fingers and accelerate the process. A little smirk was drawn to the corner of his lips. “So fucking needy, aren’t you?” jace teased, staring into your eyes for a brief moment, but they were closed shut. No word was able to escape from your lips, all the words you tried to stutter were trapped in your throat, drowning with some retained moans.
Continuing to stare at you, his fingertips moved across your slit in a slow manner, rubbing it gently. The moistness from your core made his fingers wet, being pleased from the reaction Jace got coming from you. A huffed pant escaped violently from your lips at the warm contact of his fingers being rubbed across your delicate, moistened folds. “Jace... Fuck,” you cursed lowly, unconsciously spreading your legs wider to give him more access. “Q-Quit teasing. I-I need you...” as much as you weren’t the type to plea, or beg, you didn’t have time to take risks. You knew your brother, any other one of your siblings, or even a passing maiden could spot the two of you. Not only you weren’t exactly keen in anyone catching Jace fingering you, but as well you could feel your core aching and throbbing for him. Painfully hot, and dreadful.
Gods, he wished he could keep teasing you eternally. It was so sweet to observe every nuance in your facial expressions upon the contact of his fingers caressing your pussy; unfortunately, much like you, he felt the burning desire of feeling the warmth and tightness of your inner walls around his fingers... For now, he would use his fingers. As long as you both are in a public space of the Keep. “As you wish, my princess.” he retorted in a teasing manner, placing his other hand tightly on one of your thighs to keep it well spread, and abruptly entering two of his fingers inside of you. Jace noticed how you clenched your jaw as to drown any type of loud moan that could escape from your graceful lips.
Jacaerys moved his fingers inside of you in a gentle, yet fervid manner; enough to please you. A slight bulge felt tightened on his pants at all the continous overstimulation from your quivering moans, trembling legs, pleased expressions, wetness, and most importantly, the way your inner walls felt too comforting around his fingers for him to want to take them off from you. “Moan for me.” a sudden heat overwhelmed your chest at his comand, his movements with his fingers becoming a bit rougher as he continously made in-and-out movements, occasionally wiggling them inside of you. All the while, his lips returned to send you shivers down your spine with the way he kissed, and nibbled in your soft spots. It was enough to make you wetter, and he adored it.
Upon his words, you felt more vulnerable. As if the all the effort you put into being quiet vanished away from you, being weaker. Your clenched jaw loosened slightly, allowing your lips to be partly open, releasing all the pleading sounds you were containing for him. “J-Jace, please... Don’t stop.” you were never supposed to be in this situation, and you would have never imagined you’d find yourself in it. Part of you felt guilt when your subconscious reminded you how Jacaerys was involved in the incident of Aemond’s eye, but another part of you... Understood his motives. Jace felt too good, and his nature had changed to a more polite, soft one, even if he could be a sexually fiery dragon.
“And I don’t plan to.” he responded, placing kisses around your jawline. His breath mimicked your own, being sharpened from the stimulation. He was more than keen in meeting you in your quarters after dinner, where you both would be alone by yourselves, and you wouldn’t have to contain the craving you had for one another’s bodies.
After his movements have leisurely intensified, you felt as if an inner type of hot electricity waved on your inside; going from tightening your chest, to forming a little knot on your stomach. You knew that, due to all the stimulation, you would be about to come right on his fingers. Jace knew already, as he could hear the way you were loudly groaning in pleasure out for his name, and besides, you were tight and moist enough to reach your orgasm. “Come for me, issa dōna rūklon.” his lips ascended softly from your jawline to your ear, nibbling provokingly on your earlobe, making his movements with his fingers faster, and even taking the time to softly caress your inside as his others fingers rubbed sloppily your moist folds.
Arching your back towards him and wrapping your arms around his torso, using your nails to dig into his back, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. The throbbing ache of needing him inside of you had been relieved, releasing a scream of pleasure as you violently discharged your slick into his fingers. His breath was violently hitched, as his heart was loudly pounding against his chest from the adrenaline that giving you pleasure brought him. And there was too much to come now that you both knew you were free to discover what intimacy felt like with one another.
Panting, you rested your face in the crooked of your neck as you felt how you were still in the high of having released your coming. Your nails weren’t digging into his back anymore, now you were slightly hugging him, dumbfoundedly smiling to yourself, as Jace slowly removed your fingers from your inside, still containing your slick in them as if they were some sort of thropy. “I... Enjoyed that, Jacaerys.” you mumbled, noticing how you felt slightly flustered at your own words, fluttering your eyes shut and giving into the warm feeling of his embrace. You could nearly fall asleep there.
Sweetly, Jace placed a kiss on top of your head, beginning to caress with his fingers some strands of your hair. His heart felt as if there were butterflies fluttering around it just for you, riding still the high from the satisfaction of knowing you had a pleasing moment with him. “And so did I, (y/n).” he retorted quietly, allowing you to remain with your face buried on the crook of his neck, and briefly rest there until your legs stopped trembling.
Placing his chin on top of your head, he stared off at the distance as his fingers continued to play around with your silky hair. Your scent was beautiful, and truly graceful. Made him feel more at ease. Jacaerys knew, that your siblings wouldn’t be exactly eager in having him as your courter, but it didn’t matter to him. He would do anything to keep offering you any type of love, or pleasure that you needed and most certainly deserved.
“I enjoyed it, my love. But for now, we should keep our little intimacy as a secret; I am not done with you, yet.”
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♡ taglist : ♡
@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @tickle-euphoria @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso@cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @visenyacore @justrybca
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youraverageaemondsimp · 2 months
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Promises // Aegon ii Targaryen x Fem!Reader || MODERN AU.
Valentine's special 💕
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Summary: Aegon was always afraid of committing to a relationship, he knew what he felt towards you was serious, is he finally ready to commit?
WARNINGS: mdni, afab!reader, unprotected p in v sex, tiddy sucking, fingering, friends with benefits relationship, angst, toxic relationships, mentions of cheating (not on reader), hurt + comfort, fluffy ending.
WC: 1.5k
A/N: made a valentine special for him too, this focuses more on the feels side 😩 aemonds will also drop soon // divider credits to @cafekitsune
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The rain poured restlessly outside, the sound of the raindrops hitting the road matched the rhythm of your heartbeat as you too restlessly paced in your apartment.
You received a text from Aegon not too long ago, ‘hey, I'm coming over, it's urgent.’ and when you had replied asking him about what happened, he just left you on read, which caused your mind to go haywire, thinking he'd gotten in some kind of trouble, perhaps his family was too harsh on him again? Did someone try to assassinate him? It isn't uncommon since he was from an influential family, all those possibilities with even worse types popping up in your head made it very hard to stay calm.
You stood over your window, trying to see if he had come to your apartment, and when you saw the familiar car and headlights entering your apartment and being parked outside, you immediately bolted to the door before you stood in front of it, anxiously tapping your foot, waiting for him to ring the bell.
The bell finally rang, and you wasted no time opening the door, you had opened it so fast to the point the bell did not even finish echoing and ringing.
There he stood, Aegon, unscathed, but just standing with an umbrella in his hand that was leaking droplets, you let out a sigh of relief before you let him inside.
“What happened, Aegon?” You ask him after shutting the door behind you, and locking it. He simply turned to look at you for a moment before pulling you in for a hug, his face nuzzled into your neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “Is everything alright?” you ask him and he nods his head against your neck, taking a deep breath as he breathes in your comforting scent.
“It's just—” he pulls away from the hug, “Me and Cass broke up.” He tells you and you go silent for a moment, blinking, trying to process what he said, “Ah— I see, you were dating her?” You asked and he nodded, “Since when?” You ask dumbfounded, not knowing Aegon was dating someone, “Two months.”
Your eyes widened as he revealed the time period, he sighed knowing what he messed up really badly, “Two months?! Aegon we've been getting together the entire time, why did you not tell me?” You yelled at him and he sighed, “She found out, that's the reason she broke up with me, I told her that you didn't know that we both were in a relationship, I don't know if she believed it.” He tries to de-escalate the situation, but you roll your eyes and scoff.
“Thank you Aegon, for making me look like a whore in someone's eye, I told you that I don't want to be in the friends with benefits relationship if we're both dating someone, it was a boundary that I've set, because that's cheating—” You began, “And you broke that.” You mutter the last part, all the emotional stress weighing you down.
“I didn't want to stop sleeping with you.” He confesses, “Then why did you get into a relationship with someone?” You question and he remains silent, not having a proper answer.
You sigh heavily before rubbing your temples with your hand, trying to soothe the ache that was forming in your head, “I'll talk to her and patch things up between you both,” You tell him and he shakes his head, “I didn't like her, besides I did not come here to ask you to patch things up between me and her.” He tells you and steps closer, “I came here because I realised one thing.” He whispers, his eyes boring into yours, and you couldn't look away, almost as if they are hypnotising you. “What is it?” You question and he leans down before pressing a peck to your lips. “That I love you.” The world had stopped moving the moment those words left his mouth, the sound of rain being the only thing both of you could hear, your lips trembled, trying to find an answer or a way to respond to this confession, Aegon isn't the type of guy that falls in love, so when those words come out of his mouth, it's pretty serious. “I—” You are interrupted with a kiss from him, his soft lips moving against yours in a gentle rhythm, you had tried not to give in, really tried, but the soft whimper he let out was enough to make your restraints fall apart and soon, you were kissing him back.
Lightning flashed and the thunder roared outside, and the rain began to pour even more heavily than before, his hands desperately pawed at your clothes, trying to grab any and all flesh he could find, he felt needy, desperate, hot, everything all at once.
You both pulled away at the same, and before you could say anything, Aegon carried you to the nearest surface to put you down on — which happens to be the kitchen platform — before continuing to kiss you, he wanted to be close to you, he wanted to be embraced by your comfort and warmth.
“I love you, I really do, I'm an asshole, I'm fucked in the head, but I really do love you.” He whispers against your lips and you look at him in haze, he pulls his face away from you, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands, “Please—” his voice was laced with grief, “Give me a chance,” You felt bad for him, at the way his voice was shaking, and you pulled him in for a hug, and he rested his head on your shoulder.
Warm tears flowed down your shoulder, trailing down to your collarbone as he cried, all the emotions he was holding back finally overflowing, he felt defeated, he knew he was wrong, he was shitty, the way he behaved with both you and Cassandra but that was because he was naive, naive to realise what his feelings were, after all, aegon never really got to regulate his emotions healthily.
“I know what's on your mind, if you get into a relationship with me, what's the chance that I won't cheat on you too, right?” He questions, sniffing and you mutter a ‘yes’
He pulls away from your shoulder, “That's because I love you, I didn't know what I wanted up until now.” He reassures, but you still couldn't help but have your doubts, “Please, I promise.” You watched as the tears continuously flowed down his cheeks and you tried to not feel any sympathy for him, because he was indeed an asshole, yet, you loved him, and you couldn't help but feel bad and guilty, so you just wiped his tears away and nodded, saying you'll give him a chance.
He hugged you right afterwards, and you caressed his back.
He began kissing your neck, trailing upwards to your ear and then to your face, pressing kisses all over it, before his hands grabbed your top and pulled it off you, leaving you in your bra. Aegon swallowed thickly, unbuckling your bra, revealing your bosom, he pressed kisses to the flesh before taking one in his mouth and suckling on it. This action comforted him for an odd reason, you simply held his head in place as he continuously suckled, licking and pivoting his tongue around the bud.
His hands resting on your thighs, making their way up under your skirt before they finally found your panties, his fingers hooked around the elastic of your underwear before pulling it down.
He wasted no time in settling between your legs, undoing his pants, pushing his cock out before he grabbed you by your hips and brought you closer to the edge of the counter so he could insert himself inside you.
You and Aegon had done this before, but for some odd reason, it felt more intimate, with his constant kissing and the way he held you had completely changed, he held you as if you were something fragile that would break, usually he would be rough, but today he was gentle, taking it slow.
His thrust slowly began to speed up and you rested your hands on his shoulders for leverage which he pried one off to place kisses on, you felt butterflies in your stomach at the action and you gasped as you felt him hit the sweet spot at the same time.
He chuckled, before intertwining your hand with his and changed the angle, constantly hitting the sweet spot and before you know it, you're spilling yourself all over him, you rest your head on his shoulder after a loud moan of his name escaped your lips, he thrusts a few more times before he too finishes inside you with a loud moan.
You both stay like that for a while, catching your breaths, “Will you give me a chance?” He asks again, voice nervously and you nod, “You better keep your promise.” You mutter before placing a kiss on his lips.
The emotions inside him ran wild, just like the storm outside.
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— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡
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howdoesagrapewrites · 5 months
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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕
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Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.
Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent
Taglist: @faesspace
>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud
>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life
>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything
>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian
>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother
>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks
>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out
>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you
>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to
>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum
>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.
>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene
>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did
>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off
>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king
>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen
>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking
>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours
>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there
>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark
>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited
>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill
>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her
>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you
>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"
>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him
>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent
>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"
>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him
>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"
>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours
>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words
>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly
>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing
>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone
>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong
>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half
>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela
>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did
>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him
>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her
>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm
>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you
>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three
>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys
>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up
>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted
>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'
>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"
>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting
>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison
>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you
>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys
>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out
>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange
>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food
>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback
>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered
>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone
>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died
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potato-frenzy · 1 year
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Wow, seeing all the traction on those two posts about my 'Rhaenyra adopts her siblings' AU in the last 24 hours is insane. I think I need to write this fic now. Life is fucking hectic right now but you best bet that once the holidays are over I'll be plugging away at this
In the meantime, have some more headcanons
- Aemond loses his eye in an accident and it's all Ser Criston's fault. The bitch was trying to bully the younger kids in the training yard and like in canon, Harwin was goaded into attacking him. Aemond and Aegon tried to break it up but Aemond was thrown into one of the weapons racks. The scar is much worse because of this. Criston, being the one to have thrown the eight year old prince, is cut down with Blackfyre. By the queen's own hands.
- Aemond asks to be squire to Harwin as recompense for his part in the loss of the prince's eye. It goes over extremely well, Harwin becoming even more entrenched in the family. No Harwin doesn't die.
- Lyonel does still step down as Hand, Daemon is named Hand in his place and he gets to support Rhaenyra in ways he never got to support Viserys. Laena survives the birth of their son, little Viserys.
- Laenor does actually die when he leaves to fight the Triarchy with his father again. Rhaenyra doesn't feel the need to give him the out she does in the show and he doesn't abandon them.
- it still devastates their family but Harwin, Daemon, and Laena are there to help
- Lucerys is in fact Laenor's son, he just looks exactly like Jocelyn Baratheon
- Jace is less concerned with proving himself a proper Targaryen, he's more concerned with making sure his brother's are on his council. He's the most vocal supporter of Aegon's training to become Hand, the oldest boy having a difficult apprenticeship under Daemon. He keeps insisting that Aemond should be Lord Commander of the City Watch someday but Aemond is very vocal that he goes where Lucerys goes. Jace says he'll be Master of Ships so it's not like it matters. Jace suggests Daeron become a maester so he can be Grand Maester someday and the boy just softly goes 'please no'.
- Also Daeron and Jacaerys have often been referred to as 'the twins' given that they are so close in age, are milk brothers, and Rhaenyra often had them sharing a cradle. Ironically, they're not very close.
- Despite how attached Aemond and Lucerys have always been, everyone was shocked when they found out they were in love. Daemon almost died laughing.
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venus-maneater · 6 months
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The little girl that Daemon steals (and leaves orphaned) would have to have at least something special or related to the Targaryen house, right? This man has an immense obsession and pride in his Valyrian blood, if he steals a child she would have to have something in common
time for some background y’all <3
so baby’s (bio) father is a thief in King’s Landing, and i like to think she’s roughly 7 years old, so she’s old enough to grasp the idea of thievery and what exactly her father does for a living. this leads to her being used in ploys sometimes and also picking up the habit herself.
One night, baby manages to pick pocket Daemon. He’s not slow; he’d noticed her the whole night but the fact that she was able to successfully steal a pouch of coins from him was impressive. This kind of kick starts his obsession, but it gets worse as he watches Baby’s life with her father; they aren’t rich by any means but her father never lets her go hungry. Daemon gets increasingly angry when he sees the lack of “proper” care.
Daemon comes to the father as a client, stroking the man’s ego and offering a ton of money to steal something from the Red Keep. It was a dirty trick and Daemon pretty much immediately kills him once he’s in the castle, under the guise of ‘protecting his family’ yeah right. But oh? The man left a little daughter? Don’t worry :) good ole Daemon will take her in and care for her as if she’s his own.
I have a lot more details planned but this is the premise!
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arabellasleopardcoat · 7 months
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Bouquet of Violets (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)
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Summary: You are happy in your marriage, even if your husband can be quite hellish. It all starts to go wrong when a secret admirer shows up.
Warnings: Angst! Fluff! All the feelings! And yeah, mature language and topics. Canon character death (Not Aemond)
A/N: Hopelessly romantic (delusional) reader! meets Aemond. Based on a song I grew up listening. The girls that get it, get it.
Aemond, unlike you, remembers the first time the two of you met. You wore your hair down, back then. It cascaded down your back in the ways girl's hair often did before they flowered, unstyled and wild.
You must have been nine, or ten years old. He was twelve and having a temper tantrum, hiding in the corners near the throne room. Your father was in an audience with King Viserys, while you and your mother explored the Red Keep. Aemond had never found out what the meeting was about, nor did he care.
Your mother was dressed in brightly colored robes, matching your father’s. You were still dressed in the frocks of childhood. Your small, bony shoulder, had hit him right on the ribs as your mother walked you down the hallway, and Aemond had been ready to give you the tongue lashing of your life. Yet, something had halted him.
When you had bumped into him, you had raised your gaze, to meet his. Back then, he didn’t wear the eye patch, the scar tissue too raised to do so. Instead of flinching back at the gruesome sight of the marred flesh, as most people did, you had offered him a kind smile.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to.” Your sweet smile lit up your whole face. You were not the prettiest girl he had ever seen, all awkward limbs and missing a tooth. But you were the kindest. As you fell back into step with your mother, clutching your doll, Aemond could not help but be charmed by you.
So many years have passed that Aemond does not recall what your mother and you were talking about. What he does recall are another two things: First, that you were sheltered. You referred to a pet of some sorts as your friend. Second, you were clearly hung up on the notion of marriage.
Later, he would realize that The Stranger had not touched your family yet. While you might have been familiar with the notion of death, as many children were, but had not fully grasped the troubles of mortality. That was why you were concerned over the thought of what would happen to your pet when you married.
Your mother replied something along the lines of them going with you, but the doubt was clear in her tone. She was uncertain about the prolonged longevity of your childhood companion.
Sometimes Aemond thinks of how much you must have wept when they passed. The idea of you being so distraught over something you loved makes his heart ache in a weird way.
Darkly, he thinks of how you will react once he is dead. He knows his chance of surviving this are low, especially now. Will he merit as many tears as your pet did?
The words your mother last spoke before the two of you disappeared down the hallway were forever etched in his memory.
“The man who loves you will respect everything you love and hold dear. Remember that.”
You came to him with no pet. But he would have taken in an entire farm if you had.
The next time the two of you had crossed paths, Aemond had liked you even more. You were beautiful. Having long left behind the styles of childhood, your hair was worn up as a proper lady. It made it easier to admire your eyes, magnetizing and intelligent.
You were fond of reading and writing. When he saw you again, your nose was buried into a book. It was not philosophy, or history, or any useful subject, really. You read love stories, fairy stories and all sorts of things. Literature and poetry and children’s tales all rolled into one.
It was your mother, who encouraged that passion of yours. Despite being married to a man who was much older than her, and less educated, she had found happiness in him. She looked at the world in a rather unique way. One you had inherited.
You had been taught to read at an early age. According to your mother, education was the greatest equalizer between men and women, even if she didn’t voice it around your father. He didn’t know his letters very well, and so, had little clue about what books you choose to bury your nose in. If he had known, he would have disapproved.
Most men would have, truly. No one wanted young maidens to get unrealistic ideas about how marriage was supposed to go. Yet, when Aemond himself had the chance to put a stop to it, he found himself unable to.
If Aemond was to be honest with himself, he would have said he enjoyed it. The way your face would get all dreamy, your sighs so sweet, as you progressed on your reading and imagined a love like the ones in your books. Perhaps it had been the reason, in some misguided attempt to appeal to that side of you, he started doing this.
Your second meeting, which you thought had been the first, had not been due to chance. When Aemond was told it was time to marry, the choice came to your family or the Baratheons. He had never been one to protest his duties, no matter how opposed he was to it. But on this, he put forth his own selfish conditions. Aemond would marry you and no one else.
His mother had had to insist to your parents, unwilling to give up their precious daughter in times of political unrest. It was no secret to anybody that upon the death of King Viserys, things could turn ugly. It made your family wary of marrying you to Aemond.
Never before had he cursed his parentage so much. By then, Aemond had not seen you in years, but he knew you were the only choice for him. Kind and unafraid at ten, you could have only grown into a wonder.
And you did. The more he gazed at you, during that second encounter, the more he discovered. Unfortunately, Aemond had not been taught how to speak with maidens, much less one he wanted so badly.
Unused as his lips were to speaking kind words or flowery speech, he found himself in absolute terror of doing or saying the wrong thing. When he had wanted something in the past, he simply commanded it. Aemond was not used to wanting to keep a woman, but he guessed it took more effort than that.
His mother berated him all the way home. In his fear of his words upsetting, he had ended up not saying anything at all.
“You picked her yourself, Aemond, and barely showed excitement over it. The poor girl must think you hate her.”
And you probably did. Aemond could tell that you felt your encounters were awkward, but you slowly started getting used to him. What charmed him the most had been that never once you were afraid.
It ended up becoming a routine. Sort of a play date, but for adults. Set up by your hopeful parents, you would meet each other weekly and sit in silence. Each time, you would walk in with a pep in your step, wearing pretty gowns and smiling.
You would try to engage him in conversation, but he felt too self-conscious for it. It didn't phase you. You suffered through exactly two rounds of awkward conversation before starting to bring books. Sometimes, they were two, one for him and one for you. But his favorite times were when you brought only one and read aloud to him.
You had a very pleasing voice. You pronounced your words carefully, and in an even tone. And you would always ask for his opinions on the chapter when you finished. It made conversation much easier.
Any other woman would feel unhappy at having to go through such efforts. Astoundingly, not you. Overall, you seemed happy, and it puzzled Aemond to no end. Asking you had not proven very enlightening either.
“Of course I am happy.” And you had given him a smile so bright, he was convinced you were not actually your parent's daughter, but rather, the daughter of some old god of the light. “We are a good match. We like books. And you are a Prince, good with the sword, and very learned. Why wouldn't I be happy?”
Practical. No matter how romantic the books you read, or how magic the stories you enjoyed, your answer had been purely practical. You deserved more. A loud love story, like the ones in your books, and not a quiet life, spent in the shadows of a man who could barely pay her a compliment.
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You gave a little spin, awed at the way your skirt moved and spread. It was the softest cloth you had ever felt, in cream and gold. Queen Alicent had gifted it to you along with many other pieces for your trousseau. You were to marry a Prince, and so, no expense was spared in updating your garments and linens.
What an honor it was, to have such a caring mother-in-law. Having witnessed the poor relationship between your mother and grandmother, you were thrilled over it. You had heard Queen Alicent had asked for you specifically, believing your temper to be a good match for her son. Since the announcement of the betrothal, she had been nothing but doting, if a bit overly worried about his treatment of you.
And Prince Aemond. You truly had no complaints. He was a tad too stoic for your liking, but he was never unkind to you. Despite the rumors about his fearsome character, you had found him to be very handsome.
Your first impression of Aemond was that he was tall. He was all long vertical lines in black and white. A study in contrasts, if you wish. One that, were you an artist, would have your hands itching for some coal. The only pop of color was his eye, a pale blue that shone on his handsome face.
He lacked the boyishly handsome features most men your age had. Instead, much like art, he was divisive. The eye patch that should lessen his appearance, only contributed to his uniqueness. There was something in the way he smiled, too. Something that hinted to something darker, dormant under the surface.
It was both attractive and intimidating. His stoic, aloof nature reminded you a lot of the leading men of the books you read. Your knowledge of that sort of man, through literature and observation, hinted to you that your betrothed must be more than met the eye.
What sort of passions and secrets must be hiding under his cool facade? You could not wait to find out. You imagined growing old with him, slowly learning his secrets and tells, just like your mother had done with your father.
The story of your parents' betrothal and marriage was one you knew well. As a child, you asked to hear it every night before bed. Your mother had been engaged to him being quite young, while he was already a man. He had been patient with her, but not very affectionate. Slowly, she had worn down his defenses, and gained his trust. It had taken years, with your father being a very gruff man. But they were the most loving couple you had ever met.
You yearned for something like that. A love that was built on mutual respect and trust, something that grew with you and filled your house with children and laughter. And with Aemond, you could not help but think that it would be possible. Wasn't he, too, a cold man who treated his bride kindly but never with affection?
You smiled at your reflection. You made a lovely bride if you said so yourself. Eyes full of hopes and expectations for your future marriage and the family that you would soon start, face glowing in happiness. One day, you said to yourself, as your Lord Father came to escort you towards the Sept, I will tell this story to my daughter.
Prince Aemond waited for you at the altar. It was a small gathering, your wedding. There were his siblings, mother, and grandfather and your parents. Your stomach tightened up in nervousness and excitement. You hoped he found you as beautiful as you found him.
When his eyes met yours, he gave you a small little smile. Secret, and barely there. You felt tears starting to well up in your eyes. You were so nervous, but so happy. This was the beginning of your new life, you could feel it.
You finally reached him. Aemond seemed startled at your tears, his hands coming to clasp yours almost in instinct. You gave him a bright smile. How kind, your betrothed was. He might have trouble expressing it, but for this, no words were needed.
You could see your nerves reflected on his face. Your hands squeezed harder. Aemond mimicked the gesture. There was a sense of understatement there that had previously been absent from your encounters. During the whole ceremony, neither of you let go or stopped looking at the other. As he leaned in to kiss you, you met him halfway.
This kiss had featured in your dreams for quite a while. As a young girl, when your lessons with your Septa got particularly boring, you daydreamed about the day you would marry. In your head, it was always perfect, and the kiss felt magical. You were a bit embarrassed to admit it, but once you met Aemond, your daydreams turned a bit less innocent.
The kiss fulfilled one of your fantasies, and left the other lacking. Aemond gently cradled your face in his hands and kissed you, very tenderly. His lips felt slightly dry, but he kept his motions gentle and sweet. It was a perfect as your childhood self had imagined, with the guests even clapping at the end. Unfortunately, it was just as innocent.
Considering that, and the fact that Aemond had demanded there not to be a bedding ceremony, you had correctly guessed your wedding night would be spent on your own.
The consummation of your marriage would be a challenge in itself. Aemond didn’t seem too keen on touching you with a ten-foot pole, and you weren’t sure of how one should bring up the topic.
Despite it, you were happy. Your only task was hanging on his arm at important feasts, which were few and far in between. His father’s declining health meant there was little to celebrate.
Your days often went without even seeing your husband, but you were never lonely. There were gardens to be walked, and books to be read. There were even tiny, blonde children, that you could chase around in the gardens and tickle. They were not yours, but Princess Helaena's and Prince Aegon's, yet they shared the striking silver hair your husband had. Looking at them, tiny sticky hands and still smelling like babies, you could imagine the future with your husband.
You could spend hours playing with them, or having tea with the Queen. You enjoyed trailing after her, she was always very kind. Frequently, you wondered how she and Aemond could be so alike yet so different.
The only thing that broke your routine were the times Aemond requested your presence.
“Milady.” Your handmaid said, stepping lightly inside your chambers. “The Prince has requested that you go to him.”
Instantly, dread and excitement pooled in your stomach. As a young lady, you were both fearful of the act and excited by it. Too often, you had heard it was something hurtful, but that it marked the change into womanhood. When Aemond called, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the night he made you a woman.
You rushed to take out a nightshirt from your trousseau. You had separated them into three categories. There were ones that you wore nightly, others that were slightly bigger that were saved for an eventual pregnancy, and the ones that were for Aemond. Those were the prettier ones that your Lady Mother had purchased to help you entice your husband.
It was always one of the latter that was chosen. You hated not being prepared, so you always made sure to look pretty and be clean. Just in case. It had not happened yet, but it didn't mean it never would.
Your handmaid aided you to put your robe on, followed by your slippers and a thick cloak. The Red Keep, despite being inhabited by dragons, was always cold. Your handmaid always walked you to his chambers, and this night was not the exception.
She left you at his door, after you were announced. Aemond himself opened his door, welcoming you inside.
You had gotten better at not staring at him. Despite his state of undress, in only sleep pants and his hair down for once, he was a delight for the eyes.
“My lady.” He kissed your cheek. The door closed after you. He aided you out of your cloak. “I was hoping you would read for me tonight.”
You tried not to let your disappointment show on your face. Aemond, as if sensing your mood, merely shoved a book in your hands. He didn’t even offer you a seat, but you took one on the bed anyway. By the weight of the book, you would be here a while.
“On a far away land, whose name I am unable to recall…” Aemond settled down on the bed next to you, eye closed. You didn’t understand why he did this sort of thing, but you weren’t bothered by it either. It was a small price to pay for all the luxuries you got to enjoy.
Despite ending up with a sore throat, it was fun too. He picked the books now, in a stark contrast to the days when you had been a couple courting. And as a man, Aemond had access to many more books than you had. You had recently started making your way through some chivalry tales, with a lot more blood than you were used to.
It was enough for you. Perhaps he was not very affectionate, but he clearly enjoyed your company. Why else would he keep summoning for something as menial as reading books?
You settled into a comfortable routine, grounded by the rhythms of court life. For a while, everything was extraordinarily normal. It was not until you were three months into marriage with the Prince that things started to get weird.
It was the ninth day of the tenth moon of the year, and the date felt slightly ominous. There was a restless energy in the air, something unusual. Perhaps, it was you. As of late, you had been feeling a bit blue. The lack of letters from your family and the twins starting their lessons had left you with more spare time than you thought you would have.
Deciding to go have a bath to try to shake that restless energy from you, you headed toward your rooms. When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It was strong and floral like, permeating the surrounding air. Your maids used sweeter smells for your rooms, on the Queen’s advice. They were the sort of smells that Aemond favored, and so, she had hoped surrounding you with them would endear you to him.
Then, you saw them. It was a big bouquet of violets, laying on top of your bed. Delighted, you ran towards them. You were unable to resist the urge to smell them, breathing in their scent. This close, you noticed they were slightly bluer, closer to dark blue than purple.
You toyed with their petals, wondering where they could have come from. Perhaps your husband? Aemond was not very inclined towards romantic gestures, but there was no other explanation for it.
You were nearly bursting in excitement to see him. The flowers had been such a kind gesture, you could not help but feel a wave of affection. But no matter how much you wished for it, you had seen nor hide nor hair of Aemond.
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Denying it was stupid on his part. Aemond will not protest against it. But what else could have he done? He had panicked. It's not like he meant to do so.
His mother held a weekly meal with all her children, and had taken to including you. Having often berated him about his treatment of you, it was not surprising that she had decided to take you under her wing.
Aemond did feel a bit guilty over his own coldness, but he wasn't really sure how he ought to behave. Apart from his sister and uncle, he had not seen many loving pairs during his life, and anyone would agree that Rhaenyra and Daemon should never be held up as examples of anything.
You were lonely, as of late. The twins had gotten old enough for lessons, and so, they had limited time to play with you in the gardens. You were far enough from home that the letters took a few days to reach you, too. As a young woman, almost too young to be forced to leave everything you knew behind, isolation must have been taking its toll.
Let's not forget you were not only two years his junior, but also a woman. You were of a fragile disposition, with your constant daydreaming and romantic thoughts. Aemond ought to have been paying more attention, but his mind had been busy elsewhere.
His father looked more and more close to death with each day that passed. His grandisre was constantly plotting. Without needing to be a seer, Aemond knew that things were not looking good. There would not be a peaceful reign for Rhaenyra.
He had been so caught up on his worries and duties, that Aemond had forgotten to take care of his woman. Aemond had not summoned you to his rooms that week, too wired to project the calm you would need in the days that would come. You would not do well if a war broke out.
Aemond had been quite lacking on his duty of taking care of you. Pretty little flower that you were, he could almost see you starting to wilt. You spent more time indoors, and stopped your daily walks in the gardens.
Despite fairness being regarded as a desirable trait for a lady, Aemond did not like the way your skin had lost its sun kissed glow. It just didn't fit you. Blue was more of his thing than yours, gorgeous golden woman that you were.
Hence, the flowers. Choosing the violets was an impulse. Aemond liked the colors and the smell was tolerable yet distinctive. He would know immediately when you received them, being able to smell them on your hair and clothes.
Sweet natured as you were, you had thanked him for them. The fact that you had liked them and associated them with him had been enough to warm his heart. The fact that you had decided to do so during the dinner with his siblings, enough to stomp on it.
It had not been quiet enough.
“Aemond?” Aegon frowned. “Aemond gave you flowers?”
Knowing his brother as he did, Aemond knew he was struggling hard to contain his laughter. He had been the butt of the joke too many times to confirm or deny anything. He would rather not be embarrassed in front of you.
But in truth, the idea of being weak, of being mocked, was not one that scared him. He had been humiliated many times during his childhood. What bothered him more was the thought of his feelings for you being exposed in such a manner. He was not prone to sudden bursts of affection, or doing thoughtful things for those he loved.
Aemond preferred to love in silence. There was no need for grandiloquence, or big gestures. Marriage was a sacred thing, between husband and wife. It was not something that had to be shared loudly. His love was spoken quietly, in the same way he had been taught to.
His mother loved quietly. His grandsire did, too. Their eyes spoke when their lips did not, their love a discordance with the words out of their mouths. Aemond had grown like that, loved but never told, learning it as a secret language that tied them all.
The flowers, though. The flowers had been a betrayal of their code. Something they would not understand because while everyone in the Red Keep was fluent in the art of loving and not saying a word, you were not. You were a foreigner, with your tales of romance and princess from a far away land.
This had been Aemond, clumsily speaking your language. Shy about it, as many people were when speaking one that was not theirs for the first time. It was hard. It was private, and certainly not something he wanted to be outed in front of Aegon, who would not know love for his wife if it hit him in the face.
His expression must have been deadly because Aegon had started squirming on his seat like his pants were on fire. Your face had fallen, turning into a terrible, sad thing, that made something funny to his heart.
“It wasn’t you. Of course.” Your voice was softer still. Aemond continued eating his dinner without a word. Because really, what could he say? Anything that he did now would be mocked by Aegon.
The way your face had fallen, brows pinching together in a sad little frown, had haunted him later. He wanted to fix things, but was unsure how. You were not used to his brusque manner and speech. Aemond felt it might do more harm than good, if he were to speak with you. He might end up offending you more without noticing.
Besides, how did one even start to explain that he had denied tacitly to gifting you flowers fearing not being understood and mocked? He would sound like a fool.
Instead, he had penned you a note. Instead of apologizing, Aemond had hoped to butter you up with a few compliments. You must have realized it, then, because you had walked the whole day as if floating in a cloud.
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Come the ninth day of the next moon, you had nearly forgotten all about the incident. You had thrown away the flowers before they even had a chance to wilt, and the note had been burned to a crisp in your fireplace. You had convinced yourself having a secret admirer was improper for a married woman, and refused to give it more thought.
It was a bit strange, that your husband was not angered by it. Yet, at the same time, you supposed he was thankful for your discretion over the entire affair. Aemond was very sensible and smart, so it was logical he wouldn't blame you.
Aemond had kept summoning you to his chambers, be either for you to read to him or just to sit in silence. Your happiness persisted. Until your breakfast’s tray was set on your vanity.
You noticed it when you were sipping at your tea. Groggily, and confused, you found a piece of paper under your napkin. On a neat handwriting, there was a quote from one of the poetry books you favored.
You gave a tiny gasp. Your hands clenched on the paper, your cheeks heating up. The penmanship was not one you recognized, but the words made your knees nearly buckle. No one had written you sonnets before.
Ninth day, you realize. Same as the flowers. If not your husband, then who? The idea of the secret admirer came back, stronger this time. The dates could not be a coincidence, this had to be the same person. Ninth day of the ninth moon, then ninth day of the ten.
You started over analyzing each interaction you had with men. When the knights opened the doors for you, your eyes would linger on theirs. When a Lord would greet you, you would try to remind if he had something to do with violets.
You found yourself daydreaming of this man. Would he be an older man? Would he be prone to smiling, or would he share the stoic nature of your Prince? How would his hands feel on your skin? All the daydreaming made you feel guilty, for fantasizing about a man who was not your husband. Yet, at the same time, you knew that you would not act on it. You loved Aemond too much.
It was flattering, to be wanted in such a manner. You liked the idea of it because it was different from the love you were used to. But you would rather not meet the admirer, knowing you would have to reject him. You enjoyed the attention, not the person it came from.
There was only one person in Westeros that you wished would lavish you with attention and love. And you knew already he was not your secret admirer.
Secretly, sometimes, you thought of telling Aemond. What would his reaction be? The thought made butterflies flutter in your stomach. Would he get jealous? Would he turn more affectionate? You imagined he would want to claim you in some way.
Alone, at night, you pictured his eye, narrowed in anger. Those hands, gripping harshly at your hips, leaving bruises. His body over yours, his lips on your throat, your chest, your stomach. Your hands would follow the path that the imaginary Aemond's hands would take, caressing and groping until they reached their destination. You would arouse and tease yourself until you reached your peak, a scream of his name dying in your throat.
The wondering does not last to meet a third moon. No, because King Viserys passes away and Prince Aegon is crowned King. The whole Red Keep is in a state of disarray, and you feel oddly fearful, watching the constant movement the family seems to be in.
Even Queen Alicent, usually so kind and calm, is on edge. She seems on the verge of a neurotic episode, pacing frantically around the halls, muttering to herself. You can't help but feel something bad is about to happen.
Your husband is in a terrible mood. He seems to have a constant headache, and so, you have taken to being even more kind to him. Some nights, he will summon you to his chambers. He keeps asking you to read to him, but you can tell his mind is far away.
You try grounding him, placing your hand on his thigh or shoulder every chance you get. If you were more confident, you would try something more bold. Aemond seems to enjoy your touch, but he doesn't encourage you to do it. His face remains unmoved, and he keeps telling you to keep reading.
His only tell is that he always reciprocates. If your hand is on his shoulder, his goes to your hip. If you touch his back, Aemond caresses your hair.
It leaves you feeling a bit out of balance. It's entirely innocent, as if you were two children discovering love. Yet at the same time, you can't help but feel like you are burning up in your need for him.
He starts requesting for you to stay the night with him. Aemond never touches you beyond holding you to him, body pressed close to yours in a long, vertical line. Sometimes, you wake up to his manhood prodding you from behind, but he promptly excuses himself out of the bed you share. It makes your thighs clench up in need.
It's unbearable. You feel like you are going insane, your center pulsating in need each time you are near him. The simplest touches can set you on fire. You decide to be bolder, soon. You can't keep this state of affairs.
Before you can explore this new side of your connection, Aemond is pulled away. A mission for the King, he explains. You stay behind, feeling restless. Not having been told what his mission involved, nor where he was going, you can't help but worry. Aemond had taken Vhagar, and that, at least, gives you a slight sense of safety. You were familiar enough with his mount to know she could be his fiercest protector if she felt someone was threatening.
You spend your hours praying for his safe return, along with the Queen. While not part of the Small Council formed around Aegon, but you imagine quite well what they discussed. Alicent is as scared as you are.
You go to bed late that night. With Aemond away, you can't sleep, already used to his body pressing against yours. You had hoped exhaustion would help you overcome that problem.
It's even later when heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door rise you. In the dark, you can barely make out a silhouette. A tall man, holding a dagger.
You scream. The man grabs you roughly by the shoulders and pushes you to lay down on the bed. This close, you can feel that his clothes are strangely humid, as if dried in a rush. You had not considered it before, but the letters and violets do not seem so romantic anymore. Instead, they scare you. You find yourself faced with the possibility that this man might this be your secret admirer. Has he felt encouraged by your happiness? Is he dangerous?
There is a heavy candleholder on your nightstand. You reach for it in the dark, and swing at his head. The man yelps. You start to struggle against him. His tone is familiar to you.
“Seven Hells.” He curses. It's then that it hits you. This is Aemond. Aemond is back. You don't get to rejoice on it, or pull him to you, though. He keeps speaking, in a confused tone. “You… I… I made a mistake.”
Aemond gets up and away from you. His clothes still reek of humidity and sadness. You remain there, laying on your stomach, as you feel an uncontrollable urge to cry. There is something inside you that has been rattled until it broke, something that tells you that this Aemond is not your Aemond.
The next morning, you find out he has killed Lucerys Velaryon. Instead of going to his mother or grandsire, he had come straight for you. Aemond had been trying to forget on your skin, lose himself in you.
When you see the violets covering every inch of your room, bouquets over your bed, on your vanity and even the windowsill, your eyes sting. It's bittersweet to realize that, now that you look at them, their color is surprisingly close to a sapphire.
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Dividers by yours truly. Por supuesto que la canción era Ramito de Violetas. Grande Zalo Reyes.
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