#aemond targaryen edit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ewanmitchelll · 2 months

Text

Imagine Aemond loves you… but thousands die because of it.

Warnings: incest, explicit smut, drama, angst; long post with FLUFFLY ending.

***

You are only a year older than him, the oldest daughter of Queen Alicent and King Viserys; the one whom your mother fights to have your right as the next Queen of Westeros acknowledged by your uninterested father; the one whom he comes after every day, every night.

Where he is the moon, you are the sun. Where he is the universe, you are the stars. One gravitates towards the other every time. This is no exception, but the rule.

Aemond, bad reputed as he already is in his late teenager years, is very good to you. Loyal, some would maliciously whisper, like a famine lover. But you don’t give ear to such rumors. These are nonsenses… and besides your mother is planning to marry him away. To whom, you do not know.

But to say you don’t care is to indulge in lies. Where he goes, you follow. Like this afternoon, for example.

He is outdoors, practicing with his sword. Your eyes glue at the perfection with which he swings it, blocking Ser Criston’s blow. You can tell he is demanding, unaccepting anything that is not concise.

You take notice of his black weather, how well it shapes his built muscles, a sight that warms your body. Sensing a pair of eyes watching him, little surprises him when the prince captures the owner of such a stare.

“Sister!”, he quickly leaves aside his training to engulf you in his tender embrace. As he buries his face in your neck, smelling your scent, which reminds him of sweet red roses, Aemond sighs in content. Reluctantly, though, he parts the embrace. “Shouldn’t you be elsewhere?”

“Away of my favourite companion? No, I don’t think so”, you smile the brightest when seeing a faint shade of pink color his cheeks. You stroke his face. “I pray not to distract you out of your practices, my sweet.”

“Hardly”, he whispers, taking your hands and pressing a kiss in each. “I missed you. Has mother been rough on you again?”

Aemond sees through you, as you look away, hoping not to let it too clear the troubles you’ve been having with the Queen. Alicent constantly compares you with Helaena and even Rhaenyra, not to add she has no patience with what she judges as laziness and your melancholy.

“Not really, no”, but your embargoed voice breaks the exhaustion that has been plagued your soul.

“Y/Nickname…”

He holds you tight, caressing your back. As his hands tangle in your lose silver locks, the prince comforts you. Similar pain, similar fate, there is too much that links one to the other.

“Oh it’s nothing that we are not used to, right?”, you say, dismissing the concern he casts you in a long gaze.

This tension with the family is not new to neither of you; it is in fact an element that brought you close to him and him to you. But as he rubs his thumb over your wrist, you ignore the longing in his body and the desire in his eyes, so obvious to all, completely oblivious at how he reciprocates your sentiments.

“I was wondering if we should perhaps go to a ride today. I feel as if we need it”, you smile at him, possessed by a sweet temper that melts his pride.

“As much as I want to”, says the prince, gently touching your face, “we have a bloody dinner expecting us.”

You sigh heavily, but you agree.

“I promise, though, that I will visit you tonight”, adds Aemond, nearly touched by despair upon seeing a flash of disappointment in your eyes.

“Very well”, you should not feed expectations, but when he smiles at you, your knees go weak. “I will be waiting.”

***

You sit at a chair before a mirror in your nightgown, hair loose falling like a cascade of silver locks. You brush them by the time a knock on the door startles you, getting you out of your thoughts.

Dismissing a maid of company when suspecting who comes late an hour, you know you are being prudent—-what if it’s not him? Thankfully he is.

Taken aback by your handsomeness is lord Aemond. The reputed bad prince looks mesmerized at your sight, his eyes staring wide at your boobs. You blush, disconcerted before his gaze but pleased for the same reason, glad to have captured his interest

But for now lust is cast aside when you hold in your arms, welcoming him gladly—the same way you used to as children, when more than often he went to your private quarters to sleep by your side whenever he had nightmares.

“You are here”, you muse gleefully, bringing him close inside.

“I am”, Aemond smiles. “When have I failed in being true to my word, especially where it comes to you?”

You beam at his wording, a balsam for your heart. As you two sit at your bed, fingers intertwine and locks are gazed.

“I could have never asked for someone else to look after me so well as you do, Aemond. I was remembering the other day when you brought me to Sunfyre. It felt so well. You freed me.”

He puts a lock behind your ear, a quiet smile dragging slowly on his lips.

“You may transmit shyness to others but I see the iron underneath your beauty, Y/N. Your wit is as captivating as your lilac eyes, or your red lips.”

You blush, looking away, but he holds your chin.

“I am no liar.”

“Aemond…”

Could it be?

An unposed question that doesn’t make to your tongue. The prince, however, knows it.

How to answer that, though? He places himself now behind your back and you slip to the comfort of his strong arms, snaking in your waist. You rest your head against his chest, your breathing synchronized to his.

There is no need of words.

Not now anyway.

You carefully lean to blow away candle, but it’s when darkness rises that cats come out to play.

“How are you feeling?”, Aemond asks after a while, and his hot breath in your ear gives you shivers.

Shivers that he feels. It is as if he needed physical evidence that he is not alone in his affections. Innocently he parts your legs with his knee and very gently presses it against your womanhood.

Somehow he feels your fever.

“I… I feel better”, your voice comes out as a moan when he continuously rubs his knee against your core. Doesn’t really help you how his arms conveniently rest over your hardening nipples. You press your hips against his manhood in response. “What a day we had, uh?”

Aemond chuckles lightly at your efforts in trying to act as if nothing is happening there. He plays with your hair all the whilst he slips his other hand over your nipple. Feeling it hard under the cloth almost makes him gasp.

Fuck, he curses internally.

“When don’t we have a good day in this family?”, he snorts, pleased to find you chuckling, though detecting some tension in your short cut breath.

“Aemond…”, you eventually decide not to ignore how his hand is slowly lifting your nightgown. It doesn’t help how he stops rubbing his knee against your womanhood, getting you familiar with an unknown ache that doesn’t cease to torment you now.

“Yes?”

Aemond gently places a kiss between the line that separates your jawline to your neck.

“Tell me and I’ll stop”, he whispers against your ear, finding no resistance in removing your gown. “Tell me I am not alone in this, Y/Nickname.”

He knows how to awake the dragon in you. Tired of fighting the urge to have him, you turn slightly to let him take away your gown of your body, before diving into his lips, burning in high fever.

The prince moans, sensing a bone as a result of your intensity grip over him. The way with which your naked body moulds to his, how your hand boldly moves from his belly down to his cock.

A kiss like fire tearing each other in flames. A fight for dominance in perfectly synced tongues, but of course Aemond comes over you, biting your bottom lip, chewing it with grace before letting it slip to explore your neck.

“Love me”, you beg him. “Deflower me!”

The prince groans in response, skin on skin now, he now shivers upon hearing new sounds coming out of your mouth. Nothing tastes better than cupping each nipple of your firm, round breasts. The way you moan loud is a positive indicator he is following the right path.

Though he’d had only one carnal experience—all thanks to a bet made with his younger brother Aegon—, nothing compares to the delights he experiments with you.

Spreading your legs to let him fit in between, you arch your back as despair crawls upon your skin the moment his tongue and teeth play with your tits. Your roll your eyes, hands messing with his hair… and what to say of this new sentiment when his hand finds way to your clit and with two fingers, you gasp louder?

“Aemond!”, you whimper. “Aemond, please!”

Darkness involves you, but there is no need to see when one knows the other so damn well. You burn and he burns with you.

“Come to me”, he commands, all the whilst going low with his mouth. “Come, Y/N!”

His mouth promptly rises to yours when you are about to be so loud. As your legs tremble and shake, you now share his bluntness surprise him with the turning tables.

Your lips are now going lower to his belly, fingers digging across his skin. Aemond’s breath is short cut and his naughty words reach your ears only to arouse you further—if possible.

“Oh, Lady. I dwelt in long nights at the thought of your lips so close to my skin, working wonderfulness to repent me of my skins. My own touch is not enough when compared to yours. Burn me, consume me. Set my soul alight…”

His words die just as you take his length throbbing into your mouth. The sounds you make at having it in your way make Aemond painfully lustful for you.

He slowly parts his legs, riding your face the way you want him to do. You feel so indecent, a sinner condemned for sure—but loving him feels right, and you have no remorse in doing what so far only reason conceived through forbidden readings.

You lick it, you bite it gently, and the sounds he makes give you goosebumps. You want more of him, you give your best, letting him be your guide.

Little surprise there is when you feel it.

When you hear it.

When you know it.

And you swallow all of it.

That night, you are no longer a damsel. Aemond Targaryen has finally reclaimed your body and soul at last—like you’ve dreamt to.

***

You try to disguise the pain in your legs the next day. Worse is, though, to find ways to cover the bruises he left in your skin.

Praise the Gods, he assigned his mark on you. But yet here you are.

Acting in secrecy… for now.

“You must be married right away”, considers the queen at the moment her children are gathered for the morning meal. “Y/N, Rhaenyra has proposed the union of our houses. You are going to be betrothed to Jacaerys Velaryon.”

“No!”, you protest all the whilst Aemond closes his wrist and slams the table. “I shall not espouse a bastard, Mother!”

Otto Hightower, there present, seems delighted to discover there is more in you than dissociating in familiar gatherings.

“Y/N, this is the best for our family…”

“The girl has a point though”, says Otto. “If she is going to be the next queen, a bastard must not father the next line of kings…”

“I do not want the bloody crown!”, you sigh heavily. “Give it to Aemond!”

“I would marry her, in fact.”, says the prince, making you blush and surprising the others for his blunt speech.

“And you will, and you will!”, remarks Helaena, excited.

“How, if you are associated with Alys Rivers?”, snorts Aegon, making you raise your eyebrows. “How considerate of dumping your whore, Aemond.”

“Spreading false rumors are very typical of you, brother”, he hisses quietly.

Alicent raises her hands to her hair, as if in silent prayer for patience. It’s when Otto says:

“I detest to be the one to remind you that you are no longer children to act like ones. Dutiful you are, Aemond, and we are thankful for it, but we need to consider other elements in Y/N’s arrangement.”

“Targaryen tradition should be an excellent argument in why we are doing what we are doing.”

“I think best Jacaerys Velaryon to marry Y/N”, says Queen Alicent, probably tired of her offspring bickering than actually reasoning in favor of the match.

Or maybe she wants a genuine reapproach to her stepdaughter after years of cold war.

Her decision is not welcomed by all. You fall back in your gloomy mood and Aemond storms outside.

Silence falls before Helaena muses:

“Love always comes with a price.”

***

You barely have the chance to speak to Aemond since the Queen’s delusional decision in arranging your marriage to a bastard under the pretense of aligning her house to the Velaryon in order to put an end to this rising rivalry.

It doesn’t really help that your body aches—not only due to what happened the day before, but because it misses him in every way—, but circumstances begin to separate each other.

The expected dinner is a first. Your father is holding together his family in an attempt to show unity. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“You are looking beautiful”, says Aemond when seeing you at last.

Today you are dressing a long sleeved gown in green that shows some cleavage. Your hair is tied in a fashion braid and your delicate features are reinforced by Helaena’s make up.

“For the love of Gods”, murmurs Aegon, “find yourselves a bed already.”

“How insensitive of you saying so”, says Helaena. “If you have not the ability to love, let others do so in peace.”

You and Aemond could have not been any redder.

“I’ll make you my wife”, he vows. “No matter what.”

“Even so… I must say a name hammers in my head since yesterday”, you whisper back as you take the seat he pulls for you to take.

Aemond gives you a long glance.

“Y/N… you are not honestly referring to what Aegon said, are you? We are not together any longer together for a long while now.”

The thread is interrupted though when king Viserys begins his speech. You look at him not like your father—he always neglected you, never got interest in you as a person, hence why you do not understand why your mother thinks proper to make you the first queen to reign in Westeros. Even that…he refused you.

You look away, pretending to focus in the wine that colors your glass. You start to disassociating when Aemond holds your fingers underneath the table, a firm gesture that reminds you that you are not alone in your resentment.

The rest of the dinner goes awkwardly well—everyone plays their role just fine. Until that is Jacaerys invites you for a dance. If he does on purpose, you cannot say—but you miss the glare on Aemond’s face.

Partially moved by the disapproval of being told of Aemond’s old liaison with Alys Rivers, you stand and to his horror you take the invitation. But also it feels good to see jealousy behind his good eye as you two start dancing.

“It comes to my understanding we are marrying soon”, says Jacaerys to break the ice.

“Indeed”, you say rather coolly, though you smile benignly at him. “Linking our houses for peaceful purposes. How delightful.”

Jacaerys furrows his eyebrows, perhaps mistaking your remark with sarcasm. He opts perhaps to see this is not the case. And maybe it is not.

“Duty must always stand before sentiments.”

“It is the way”, you nod. “We aim to serve, even if these ties suffocate us.”

“It only does if one isn’t resigned”.

Music never before sounds so melancholic to your ears. But here you are. Dancing with someone who long ago ceased to be a friend, performing for a duty like a dutiful daughter. Being kind above all… because few have been kinder to you.

Then music comes to an end and you go back to your place. The king stands, it’s time to retire. When he leaves, scars are left open and blood comes out…

“I would like to have a toast”, so Aemond, in silence for so long, rises abruptly with a glass of ale in hand.

You raise your eyebrows significantly, unable to perceive the subtle change of behavior. It’s usually Aegon the teaser, never him.

All pair of eyes are set on this tall, paled silver haired prince, whose good eye shines mischief, showing resentment for past events, never buried, always resurrected.

The quiets are usually the worse. It is known.

“…for these three Strong boys.”

It is the start of a new hell. Jacaerys doesn’t take it easy, and as predicted he and Aemond get in a fight. Your eyes are wide and you abruptly stand, not believing in the scene that runs before your eyes.

Your heart skips a beat when your uncle Daemon puts and end to it. No need words, just his presence is enough to placate the violence Aemond brought to table.

You frown, but refusing to participate, you slip through the night. No one notices, though Aemond does. But this night he doesn’t come for you.

***

Where does all it begin to go wrong? You cannot tell. When Aemond comes at you again, a week has passed by since that bloody dinner. Your father is dying and there are machinations to put you on throne.

Part of you ignores it. But another is prepared for it.

Aemond sees you at courtyard, dressed like a damsel but with the look of a warrior. Silk green gown falls over your curves, your silver locks are tied in two braided buns at each side of your head but your eyes, fierce and empty, stare at the blade you hold with your delicate fingers.

“Y/N…”, his voice is brought to your ears like a summer breeze: welcoming, warming, familiar. But it also startles you.

“You disappeared”, you accuse him, holding tight the blade, not minding feeling the iron gently cut your skin.

“I disappointed you, didn’t I?”, his steps anxiously short the distance and he takes away the sword. “Don’t be imprudent, Y/N. Look at your hand.”

Before you protest, he takes you by your wrist to a fountain nearby and there he merges your palm to it. You flinch, but he holds you still.

“I should have not brought you any further disappointments”, says the prince, especially pained when finding tears coming to your eyes.

“Did you go after her?”

Aemond raises his eyebrows at your question. Insecurity has long found solace in your broken heart. He frowns, before removing his eyepatch. You blink at such exhibition.

“Let me expose me to you. I am fiercely loyal to you, Y/N. I fucking love you. Didn’t I show you that night?”

And then his arms are tight around your waist, his face, his lips brushing against your chest. You stroke his hair, swallowing your tears.

“I love you too. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to keep by my side, but what else would I think when you left for seven bloody days?!”

“I needed space”, he raises his eyebrows, resting his chin over your left boob. “Here I am, though, like a beggar. You don’t deserve that bastard, Y/N. I shall not let you marry him.”

“What control do we possess before our fates?”, you sniff.

He presses a kiss over your skin, giving you goosebumps, before making you sit on his lap. Little does he care that you two are in public. Less so when he kisses your neck up to your earlobe, pleased to make you moan, before he holds your chin.

When your eyes meet, Aemond speaks:

“Wait for me tonight, will you?”

A shadowy smile crosses upon your lips.

“I shall, beloved.”

So sacred, so devoted, this faithful man binds his destiny to yours when he kisses you calmly.

***

When he meets you punctually by midnight, you cannot help that you have a presentment regarding your carnal liaison with this man you love deeply with the waters of your soul. What if you conceive?

But when he stops by in his courtly robes, your concerns are easily dismissed, brushed off your thoughts.

“My love”, urgently he comes to reclaim what’s his by right. “I have missed you.”

“As have I”, you kiss him hungrily, not minding the conflagration that flares over your skin as you desperately help him toss away his robes. “I ached for you, Aemond.”

“Did you?”, he groans when feeling your lips against his neck, close to his chest as your hand strokes his manhood. “Ah, damn it! This feels good!”

“I couldn’t even walk for a day or two”, your tongue leaves circles traces around his chest, all the whilst your fingers wrap around him, doing circular moves up and down.

The idea of ruining you arouses him to such an extent that you already feel his precum at his tip.

“Couldn’t you?”, he leans his head against the wall. “Oh, what have I done?”

It’s when your gaze crosses his. Aemond smiles when seeing his arousal is yours too, how sensual you look at taking his pleasure yours. But he is surprised when you slide to your knees.

“Y/N…”

“Let me reward you, my prince”, your sweet voice is like a melody to his ears, and the moment your mouth meets his manhood… Fire consumes him.

***

You are still fast asleep when your mother’s maid finds you, indecently embraced in your brother’s nude body. But she is not entirely surprised by what she witnesses, considering how it’s been obvious how one always loved the other…

Nevertheless now time urges her to be the deliverer of bad news. You are barely opening your eyes when she says:

“My lady, your mother is after you. Now.”

“What does she want?”, you try going back to sleep, not minding you’ve been caught.

But the woman is too anxious to give you peace.

“Your father, the king, has died.”

This is enough to let your eyes open widely and even Aemond is awaked by these words.

“What does this mean?”, you shouldn’t have asked but panic steps in.

“You are queen now”, says Aemond, tossing away blankets and dressing his clothes. “Thank you, Madame. We are meeting our mother soon.”

You too stand and begin to dress, but your body shakes at what Aemond tells you.

“No!”, you turn at him. “I am no Queen! I do not wish the crown our father has refused me! It’s Rhaenyra’s!”

“Y/N…”, Aemond sighs. “Come on, now.”

“I have no capacity to uphold it! No! Tell our mother I am no queen!”, you don’t realize how loud you are and what fuss you are making until he holds you in his arms.

“Don’t say these things”, says the prince. “I will crown you!”

“No!”, you burst in tears. “I do not want it! Take it for yourself, but…”

“No!”, and he is firm now, holding your face so you look at him. “Quit with this nonsense. You are the eldest daughter. Yes, I would like to be king myself, seeing myself as better fit for the role than Aegon. Not you, though. Never mind our father does not acknowledge you. Fuck it! I believe in you, I’d bet my life for you!”

“Don’t say this. Your life is too precious for me…”, you whisper, eyes closing before the kiss he presses on your temple.

“Come, my sweet. Let me amend past disappointments. Come now.”

You don’t acknowledge his speech, but soon you find yourself walking side by side to him. When you enter the throne chambers, all eyes are on you.

Helaena rushes to your side, curtsying first before engulfing you in her embrace. You swallow a sob, but she hears your whispers:

“I’m scared, Laena.”

“Don’t be. Face the storms and what happens next will be endured.”

You nod, thought uncertain of how to proceed.

Then Aegon follows. He bows and says:

“I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes right now.”

Him, you ignore. Then comes your mother with your grandfather by your side.

“Child you are no more. My sweet girl…”, she ignores how closely your arm is tied to Aemond’s before kissing your cheeks. “You are now queen.”

“I do not want it”, you protest, much to her dismay. “This is Rhaenyra’s crown, not mine!”

“This is yours by right and I’ll tell you why”, says Otto mechanically. “Westeros does not want to be ruled by bastards. The major proof of it is when the Gods put you right here where you must be. Do not forsake your duty, Y/N.”

Little by little your reluctance is melted away. Aemond then turns at you, on his knees before you.

“My queen, lady of the Seven Kingdoms, I give you my heart and loyalty. No one shall claim otherwise.”

Seeing how silent you are, in spite of the tears rolling out of your eyes, it’s Otto’s voice who prevails the general will:

“Long live her Grace, Y/N…” and he lists all the titles that are irrevocably tied to you now.

***

Cut from marble, dressed in silver and gold, you cross the multitude of knighted men who form a corridor for you with their swords unsheathed up in the air.

The High-Sparrow stands above every royal family. Soon a scepter is given to you hold and a crown is placed over your head. The weight of it could smash you, but you stand strong.

You side-glance towards Aemond. You wish this was his instead, but the devotion coming at you convinces duty must not be placated.

“Long may live Queen Y/N, first of her name!”, professes the religious man and as you stand the crowd goes wild.

You are queen now. And your reign has just begun.

***

You watch from the window as clouds come to hide away sun. A bad omen, you judge. Behind you, the first council of the new reign is formed with Otto Hightower as Hand of the Queen. Your mother, the dower queen, also attends it.

Oblivious to all, you miss his company. Aemond has been sent to the seat of Baratheons, at Storm’s End, in order to secure support for your crown.

You hate how fragile this makes your position, how this new beginning feels wrong. And yet, here you stand, foreseeing a storm. As if to confirm it, you hear thunderstorms.

“You shouldn’t have sent him to Storm’s End”, you muse, forced to go back to your seat.

“This isn’t the time nor the moment to miss Aemond, Y/N. Like him, you should focus in what matters.”

“Do you think Rhaenyra will accept well that I have replaced her?”, you snort at her.

“By marrying her son, perhaps this is prevented it!”

“I am not taking a bastard as king consort!”

“For someone who refused to be queen until two days ago you are strongly decided in what to do with the power to you bestowed”, muses Otto, entertained.

“Well, grandsire, please forgive me for not willing to be further controlled by others!”, you snap at him. “Damned this be!”

Damned this looks indeed, for barely the council has come to an end, rain begins to fall… and a very disturbed Aemond shows up.

“Aemond!”, you’d gladly run to him, but something about his face makes you stand where you are.

Alicent, sensing something’s gone terribly wrong, dismisses other councilors. There is only family there present. The prince avoids their gazes, ashamed for what was done—at the same time… you can also tell he’s changed.

“What have you done, my boy?”, the dowager queen breaks the silence, moving to where he is and thus forcing him to look at her. “What have you done, Aemond?”

“I did not mean to”, he whispers. “It wasn’t intentional… but it’s too late now. I cannot change what was done.”

“Oh, Gods”, you rush to your mother’s side, trying to help her sit.

And without waiting to extend this unbearable silence, you hear what is to shock them all—you included.

“Lucerys is dead. I killed him.”

That being said a thunder strongly hits the ground not too far from Red Keep.

An announcement of war.

You just know.

***

“I cannot see you anymore, Y/N”, Aemond’s words break you in tears. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that to me!”, you cry out and he feels the blows you hit against his chest. “Don’t you dare doing that, Aemond Targaryen!”

“What else can I do? Look the path I’ve taken! And I feel no remorse over it!”, his voice breaks despair of a long broken soul.

You are partially shocked by his words, his guiltless admission. This is a side you never thought finding in him. It partially frightens you, but then…

Aemond is now on his back at you, tormented by his demons, pounding over his flesh. But you move to where he is, having made your decision.

“Look at me”, and he does.

“Be with me.”

“What? Have you heard what I said?”

“You will be my king or else the crown is Rhaenyra’s for good”, you speak firmly.

Aemond laughs nervously, but your eyes remain in intent stare.

“I mean it.”

“How can you take a monster as me as your husband, Y/N?”

“You are not. I take you as who you are, a faithful, loving man.” You side smirk at him. “I cannot conceive a world, less so a reign, where you are not part of it.”

“I’ve brought you many disappointments. I’ve taken a path you don’t want for me, I…”

You lean on your toes and, holding his face against yours, you kiss his lips intently. Slowly, Aemond’s castle is brought to ruins and his arms soon lock you in.

“I love you. My life is yours, my queen.”

“Make me your wife, Aemond. This is all I ask.”

When looking down at you, he knows he cannot refuse you anything at all.

“Very well then. I know where to go. Take your better robes, my queen. We are marrying tonight.”

You smile, pleased to have your way at long last.

***

No war, no crown, no reign comes at your head when his cock is pumping inside you and his lips are twirling around your pink nipples. No politics, no usurpation daunts your heart, so aligned to his.

“Love me!”, you are a beggar when he is over you, taking the heeds of your body, when you arch your back and have your wrists above your head as he continuously thrusts in you. “Fuck me good, my king!”

As your husband, Aemond gladly complies. He groans loud, proudly taking you as he slides within, interlocking his cock with his hand, intently so.

“It is as my queen commands”, he bites your bottom lip before snaking his tongue in your mouth.

He raises your legs, pushing you below to his body, intertwining both in sync moves. Not until he pursues your lips does he seed you, coinciding with your climax.

“My love, my queen, my woman”, he doesn’t let go of you not even now, rather contemplating this union so sacred to you both.

You turn at him, a smile on your lips. Aemond is mesmerized by how peaceful you look now.

“I bet my life on you”, you whisper against his lips, holding his face with your hands. “Always had, always will.”

There is no need to say further. You two are too attached to turn away now.

***

War has still paved its way to you. A scandal that will bring seven kingdoms to bleed…

“What have you done?”, you hear your mother admonishing you.

You turn at her, impatience already twinkling in your eyes.

“You’ve started this the moment you placed the crown over my head, mother. Don’t make this about me.”

That being said, you walk out. You excused Aemond’s offense, but your mother’s sins cannot be simply be pardoned. These paved your path… of the kind you cannot opt to turn away now.

Tired you may be, with morning sickness worsening as days turn in weeks, but you are too distressed with the possibility of having the capital attacked by the Black partisans.

“You are not flying, Y/N. You must stay here…”

“No, Aemond. I must go. This is not your war to wage. It is also mine.”

The decision is made. But what will it cost?

***

Aemond rushes back in when hearing you’ve been too unwell after facing Baella in what nearly cost your dragon’s life. Sunfyre got wounded, but lived. The same cannot be said of Baella. A victory to your cause, but one that does not come without a heavy price to pay.

Men march on and against your behalf in what seems an endless contending. It is as if you’ve been tossed in the middle of a whirlwind and there you remain.

Once there was hesitation, next came certainty. But where you are now?

It all disappears, every question and doubt are buried in the name of duty. But now you are forced to face a worst battle: the one for your life and yours alone in childbed.

“Where is she?! Where is the Queen?”, he walks in, steps heavy as thunders, echoing in stoned pillars corridors.

Helaena, dutiful like always, is the one to inform him you are in labor now.

“Twins will come, but be careful, Aemond.”

He stops.

“What are you saying? What do you see?”, he almost takes her by her shoulders.

“Vulnerability will come in due time”, it’s all she can tell.

For now, this says little. For now what matters for the rogue prince is that he’d wage thousand wars to see you well.

Like Helaena’s predictions, though, there comes a pair of twins robust and well.

“My Gods. I was worried”, Aemond whispers, rocking you in his arms, looking down as you insist breastfeeding your children.

There is peace. Long lasting peace for the moment. Despite the pained conscience for tearing Westeros apart, all else matters not before the prince you love and rose as king, before the children you bore him that rise now as your heirs.

“I love you”, you tell him.

“I love you too.”

He smiles softly down at you. All is well that ends up well with you.

Definitely worth a bet.

***

�� Epilogue.

Aemond is holding Jaehaera in his arms all the whilst Jaehaerys is playing with his cousins. The children of Aegon and Helaena, named Maegor and Visenya, are his best companions.

Peace seems to settle—especially with Rhaenyra’s death by poison, and there had been no signs of her offspring nor Daemon to worry over.

For now.

You are relatively popular and accepted by the common folk. Today you are dressed in gold with details in purple, wearing a necklace gifted to you by your husband.

And you are also pregnant again.

“You should rest and not presiding feasts, my sweet”, so tells you Aemond, forehead leaning against yours.

“Nonsense”, you smile warmly at him. “I must celebrate the result of our hardworking. Our family, us…”

“The bet was entirely worthy it”, Aemond smiles and kisses his lips.

“EW daddy!”, Jaehaera protests, making you both chuckle. “Put me down. This is disgusting.”

Aemond scoffs at the little girl.

“I fear I’ve been spoiling you too much, Jaehaera. You know what? Go on and play with your brother and cousins. Daddy needs to chill anyway”.

She pouts instantly.

“But will you still spoil me, won’t you? I still want to hear the story of how you fell in love with mama.”

You blush at what you hear, looking away as if you are a teenager young woman again. Aemond is more than pleased when seeing how after all these years he can still affect you.

“That depends of your behavior, young lady.”

“Daddy!”

“Give me a kiss and I’ll reconsider it.”

She gladly does as requested and Aemond’s good eye follows her daughter, a seven year old, running after her small group of relatives.

“She reminds me of you”, says he, leaning his back against the chair as he spots Queen Alicent looking after her grandchildren. “Sweet disposed, but very willful.”

You laugh heartily before resting your head against his shoulder.

“What would be me without you and our children, my love?”

Aemond smiles quietly, taking your hand to his lips and there pressing a kiss.

“You made a rebel settle down, crowning the son of careful king. What else could I ask of you, my love?”

He spots the same love behind your irises. It is as if there is no witnesses, as if you two are alone.

“I love you, king of my heart.”

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eyed #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen edit #prince aemond targaryen #fire and blood vol 1 #Aemond #Targaryen #imagine dragons #I bet my life

38 notes · View notes