#dad!aemond

[sapphire-writes]

My Dragon ~ Aemond x wife!Reader

warnings: mentions of Aemond's eye injury, some angst & fluff

word count: 1.0k

note: pure fluffy dad!Aemond goodness! was stuck on this idea for a while, hope you enjoy this little piece!

masterlist

You returned to your chambers after a long day, desperate for nothing more than a long, hot bath and the soft furs of the bed you shared with your husband. You had spent the day with your good sister Helaena. Though once only sisters through friendship, you were truly sisters now after the marriage to her younger brother. 

As you opened the doors to your chambers, it was unusually quiet. You closed the door behind you, listening to the crackling of the hearth. You spot the back of Aemond’s head, seated on the settee facing the dancing flames. His head is angled downwards; no doubt he has stayed up late with his nose in a book as you often find him. 

Though he never admits it after the fact, you’d caught him on more than one occasion fast asleep on the settee or in his chair, a book open-faced in his lap. 

You smile softly as you approach, careful not to startle him. 

“My love…” you call softly, to which Aemond turns his head. 

He purses his lips slightly, bringing a hand to his mouth shushing you. Your eyebrows concave together in confusion, which ebbs as you walk closer. Aemond has forgotten his usual book this evening; instead, your sleeping daughter rests her head on his lap, fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. 

Her silver curls are splayed every which way, her nose whistling with every breath she exhales. 

“It is late my love,” you playfully tease, keeping your voice a low whisper so as not to wake her.

“I know,” Aemond says, his voice just as soft, “We lost track of time.”

You smile, walking behind him to place your hands on his shoulders. Though only in her fourth year of life, your little dragon has the Targaryen prince wrapped around her little finger. Aemond brings a hand to rest on top of yours, pulling it from his shoulder and pressing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. 

“Did you have a nice time?” he murmurs against the back of your hand, his breath causing gooseflesh to appear. 

You hum in response. “I did. You know how I enjoy spending time with Helaena. Though I must admit, my legs do ache.”

You had spent most of the day walking through the gardens with the princess, helping her add to her collection of curious creatures and oddities. You loved Helaena’s hobbies and were more than happy to indulge her. But the day was long under the hot summer sun, and it left you eager for bed. 

“Shall I call for someone to draw you a bath?” Aemond asks as you lean to rest your chin on his shoulder.

“It tis alright,” you assure him, “Do not trouble yourself.”

“It is no trouble, you know this,” he insists, glancing at you sideways. You made sure to rest upon the shoulder where he can see you with his functioning eye. 

You remove your hand from him, caressing the leather eyepatch he wears. 

“You must be uncomfortable,” you tell him softly, stroking the worn leather. It begins to irritate him on days such as this one when the heat causes the leather to chafe the skin of his cheek. 

The weather is strange these days, getting so hot during the day and then dropping significantly during the night. Aemond’s violet eye flickers down at your sleeping child. How perfect she looks, the perfect combination of both of you. A miracle made of your love. You sense his hesitation.

“She shall not be afraid, my love,” you assure him.

“How can you know?” he says, looking down away from your comforting gaze. 

Aemond had always been fearful of how others reacted to his injury. You remembered in your youth before he had begun courting you, how you’d learned of why he wore the patch. It was Helaena who informed you that Aemond wished to not frighten the ladies of the court.

“Prince Aemond should not wish for a weak stomached woman anyhow,” you had snapped, as other ladies had snickered at his injury. “Women say they wish to marry a warrior, then faint at the scars from battle. How distasteful.” 

Helaena had told Aemond how you’d come to his defense. You’d been the apple of the Prince’s eye ever since. Well, until the birth of your little one. Two women now completely owned the dragon prince’s heart. 

“A mother’s intuition,” you assure him, moving to remove the patch. Aemond freezes for a moment but relaxes into your touch as you place the eyepatch on the table, revealing his magnificent sapphire. 

You stroke your finger along the scar, admiring how the sapphire reflects the light from the hearth. 

“My dragon,” you murmur, cupping his sharp chin in your hand, and pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred tissue. 

Aemond sighs, his chest rumbling. You can see a flicker of desire in his violet eye at your praise. Your daughter stirs then, perfect face scrunching as her pale lashes flutter open. She looks up at you with wide violet eyes before throwing her small arms around your neck.

“Muña!” she says sleepily, arms heavy around your neck. 

“Hello my love,” you softly croon, pulling her completely into your arms, “How was your day?”

She buries her face into the crook of your neck and you inhale the lilac scent of her hair. How you enjoy the moments with your companions, but oh how you miss your daughter by the end.

“We went exploring all day! And we went flying on Vhagar,” she chatters away, “Sunfyre even joined us! Kepus flew right next to us!”

“Did he now?” you ask with a chuckle. Aegon was a surprisingly delightful uncle. 

Aemond stands then, still facing slightly away. You reach for his hand, pulling him closer. Your daughter looks at him, the smile never leaving her face. Aemond turns his head slowly, revealing the scarred tissue and brilliant sapphire. You hold your breath, waiting for your little girl’s reaction. 

She stares, unblinking, before reaching out to touch his face. 

“Blue is my favorite color,” she informs, turning back to you, “Did you know Sunfyre likes to sing? I don’t think Vhagar enjoys singing, her songs are rather deep. It shakes the windows of the Keep! Muñāzma was quite cross with her!”

You glance at your husband, watching his cheeks turn red. You smile so brightly that your cheeks begin to ache. There was never anything for him to fear. She adores him all the same.

As do you.

#aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #dad!aemond #dad!aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond stannies #aemond the kinslayer

[maidragoste]

Sapphire

part of the universe of "the queen and her husbands"

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated, it really motivates me to keep writing 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

In the first months of Aemond's return to King's Landing, he never removes the patch around his children. He is afraid of their reaction to seeing his scar and that he lacks an eye. He is sure that Aemon and Baelon will be afraid if they see him and he could not bear his children to be afraid of him again. He does not want to return to the first days of his return where they cried every time he tried to raise them. So he always has the patch. It doesn't matter how many times you insist on your husband who took it out when you four are alone and you assure you that nothing bad will happen, he doesn't want to risk it.

Until a warm day, Aemond can no longer bear the patch and decides to remove it for a moment just because Aemon is asleep in his lap and plans to put it back before his son wakes up. Aemond is so absorbed in his reading that he does not realize that Aemon is awake until he feels a small hand touching his face. The prince looks at him expectantly, ready to listen to a cry or a scream but that doesn't happen.

And when you enter the chambers and you find one of your children standing in your husband's lap trying to remove the sapphire from his eye you cannot help laughing. You are not surprised after all, your children seem obsessed with playing and playing with the sapphire of your necklace.

Later when Baelon returns from spending the afternoon with his grandmother and Aemond has his patch again. You and your husband are sitting on the floor playing with the twins when Aemon proudly shows his twin his new discovery, raising the Aemond patch and exposing the sapphire. You notice how your husband is tense fearing that maybe Baelon reacted badly and smiled at him waiting to give him a little confidence.

Then Baelon shouts excitedly and now it is both twins who try to remove their dad's sapphire.

You laugh while you get up and rise to Baelon moving away from Aemond.

"I told you that you had nothing to worry about," you say smiling and dodging Baelon's little kicks.

To the consternation of Aemon, your husband also gets out on the floor. He looks at him for a moment before playing with his other toys.

"Do you want me to tell you that this time you were right?" says Aemond, taking Baelon away from you, he would rather suffer from a kick than you end up hurt.

"I'm always right"

"No, you don't."

Before you can complain Aemond kisses you making you forget about any thoughts.

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @alisoncdariel @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @your-favorite-god

@snowprincesa1 @snh96 @rosey1981 @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @hannaeditzs @zverea

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@bajadotcom @woodandwaxwings @mendes-bae @sustisama @imjustboredso @remuslupinwifee @sarcasticking9 @melllinaa @letsloveimagines @zillahvathek

#the queen and her husbands #I missed writing them and this universe #aemond headcanons #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife!reader #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #aemond fluff #dad aemond #dad!aemond #hotd fluff #oc: baelon targaryen #oc: aemon targaryen

[theold-ultraviolence]

One day Alicent comes over, reader lets her in, and she can hear this loud like scream laughing in the other room, Amealia’s shrieks of joy and amusement and Aemond’s laughing, so loud and and so joyous and free, and reader says ‘oh sorry Aemond is playing with Amaelia in there’ like this is the most normal occurrence. And Alicent can’t believe that’s her son. That’s he being so silly and free. But this is Aemond with reader and especially Amaelia this is him everyday now

Hey there dear!! once again, thank you for your patience, when I don´t reply right away to an ask like this is because I know my silly brain will wanna write something longer, and this was the case! I ADORED THIS SO MUCH, THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS!! my heart

As she steps through the threshold of her son's home, Alicent's big doe eyes widen even more, fixing her gaze on her daughter-in-law as her ears catch the shrieking noises and the boisterous sound of her granddaughter's laughter coming from another room.

The music of her Amaelia's delight is already familiar to Alicent. The little girl is a lively spirit, so different from how Alicent's own children used to be. So different from how Aemond has always been: quiet, brooding, reserved. An eternal wallflower.

This is why it's not the sound of Amaelia's laughter that freezes Alicent on the spot, but that of a man's: deep and breathy, straight from their chest, and so, so very warm.

Surely this isn't Aemond. It cannot be.

Not when it's not even noon yet, as Alicent's here to go out with Aemond's family for lunch.

She's never met anyone that's already this giddy in the early morning.

Is there another man interacting with her granddaughter!? does Alicent's daughter-in-law have another man in the house!?

This flash of judgment must have passed through Alicent's eyes without meaning to, for her daughter-in-law is quick to set her nerves at ease when she gestures to the other room, after taking Alicent's coat in hand.

"Sorry for the noise! Aemond is playing with Amaelia...it's one of those days where we struggle to get her dressed!" her daughter-in-law says with a playful chuckle as she leads Alicent towards the hall.

What greets her eyes - that had grown so tired around the corners, from having only witnessed grief and melancholy in her lifetime - is a sight that she's only ever seen in distant dreams and delusions of another life where her children didn't grow up to distance themselves from her.

Aemond doubles over the tiny frame of his daughter as he laughs, before picking her up, swinging her around up, up, up in the air before dropping her onto her bed and making her bounce, before he tackles her and tickles her until Amaelia's crying, "no more, no more!!!!"

But she exclaims with a bright, toothy grin and eyes that sparkle with happiness, as she turns to see her dad, and flings her arms so he can pick her up and do that again.

Aemond picks her in his arms and sways her before filling her with a series of loving kisses to her tummy and cheeks that just make her laugh even more.

Alicent's long practiced refined smile doesn't convey the depth of her happiness in this moment. Her heart, a wilted rose, blooms once more, and breathes with joyous life at sight. She turns around, not wanting to intrude in such a happy moment.

She manages to lightly squeeze her daughter-in-law's shoulder, before gratefully accepting a cup of coffee to wait for Aemond to get Amaelia ready.

Alicent never mentions what she sees to her son - so unused to open-hearted conversations in her old age. But it's a memory that will always be treasured in her heart from now on.

It's a memory that makes every moment of pain she's endured, worth it.

#aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #dad!aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #my oc: amaelia targaryen #modern au #modern!aemond's family #my aus #my writing #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[aemondsbeloved]

Poppies and Aster

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

summary: on a warm day, Aemond spends his time with you, his lady wife and your two daughters in the gardens at the Red Keep. His duties, what others may think when they see him vulnerable with his family, and everything else does not matter so long as he is with his little family (1.1k)

notes: reader is disabled but what disability she has is not specified (she does use a cane which is mentioned), very fluffy, dad Aemond, this is unedited

If someone had asked you those years ago when you were still a maiden yet to be wed if Aemond Targaryen would be sitting in the secluded patch of grass in the royal gardens having a picnic with you and your children on a sunny afternoon you might have laughed at the prospect.

As cordial as Aemond had been even before you were betrothed and merely two people who attended the same certain events hosted by the King and Queen, he had never been one for slowing down. You would have said all Aemond loved to do in the afternoon was train with Ser Cole or perhaps spend time in the library reading.

But out in the gardens? Where everyone would see and perhaps stare at him? Oh no, you would never find him there.

He had once told you after you were betrothed that he disliked the gardens because people tended to… stare, to say the least. Perhaps in the secluded part of the library or in the training yard no one cared to pointedly stare at his scar or eyepatch. In the gardens this was not the case.

And yet here he was with you and your two daughters. Aerea past her seventh name day and Daena past her fifth. Your eldest sat besides yourself and Aemond with a sketchbook in her lap as she drew the bush not far from your family’s spot in the shaded patch of grass. You smiled at the sight, her face scrunched up so slightly in concentration. She would suck in her small cheeks when she did this and purse her lips in focus, making her look much like Aemond. Her hair so silver highlighted by the sun and the breeze that drew wisps of her hair from her braid made her look even more like him.

Besides her in Aemond’s lap was Daena with a cluster of violet and blue colored flowers in her lap. Her head of silver hair was bowed down in concentration as she threaded them together in the shape of a crown. She always insisted on wearing her hair down, detesting braids of any kind. Gods forbid you keep her hair out of her face. Sometimes when her Aunt Helaena persuaded her she would have her hair braided around her head like a halo if only because that is how Helaena always wore it. But now with her hair down in its natural state you could see how her curls that looked striking like your good mother’s went past her shoulders and were picked up in the breeze.

Aemond insisted their silver locks and violet eyes that looked just like his did not make them look like him at all. Frequently he said they had all of you, your nose, your lips, your eye shape. “A good thing,” he said to you once in your chambers as the sky set in deep oranges and pinks in the early eve. From his seat in the chair by the fire he had a strikingly calm and fond energy about him. “They’ll be as beautiful as their mother.”

Now, his book was long forgotten besides him as it laid in the grass. You were no better as your embroidery was in your lap, the needle having not been picked up in quiet some time. The cane by your side had been placed on the grass was a reminder of how long you had been here.

Daena beamed as she lifted up the finished crown in her hands to examine it. She turned around in her father’s lap to face him. Silently she lifted the crown of purple and blue flowers to Aemond.

“For me?” he asked her, gently moving his hands in front of her.

She grined toothily. “Blue poppies and purple aster,” she looked down at her flowers as if to check she got the color and names right. It would not surprise you as she was as meticulous as Aemond was. She looked back up at him and looked more giddy than before. “Just like your eyes Kepa!”

Years ago when you had first come to court you would have thought Aemond tempermental at best. The very first rumor you had heard from another lady your age was that he had screamed at a servant when she saw him without his eyepatch on when bringing something to his chambers. As you saw him with your daughter, tilting his head down so she could place it on his head, you were glad you never paid attention to those rumors. His hands were strong and could kill but he only held the ones he loved with gentleness and loved them with reverence.

The people of court could never know how much Aemond loved his family.

He looked over to where his elder daughter sat on the grass beside him, finishing the sketch of flowers she had been working on. The charcoals of beautiful vivid colors he had gifted her from Essos had gone to good use as the deep pink of the flower came to life again on her sketchbook. “How do I look?” he asked her with a soft smile.

For the first time that afternoon the concentrated look of sucked cheeks and pursed lips disappeared and she gasped in wonder, reaching the gingerly touch a blue flower. “Ao jurnegon gevie, Kepa.” You look beautiful, Father.

Was it the reverence for her father that made him smile or was it simply that he was with his family on an afternoon of such bliss? Maybe it was something that he did not think he deserved when he was younger and always thinking of the legacy in histories instead of the people around him. Aemond reached out and stroked the side of her head lovingly. “Good,” he chuckled approvingly. “Your valyrian improves every day, jorrāelagon zaldrīzes.” Dearest dragon.

At her father’s approval Aerea beamed much like her little sister, though hers was remarkably less toothy. It was a beam of a smile all the same. Daena went back to making another flower crown which you suspected would be yours. After that she would undoubtedly make her big sister one too.

Your little family was content here in the shade and as another breeze picked up Daena’s silver curls, you had no intention of picking up the embroidery in your lip. Glancing at Aemond who you found already looking at you with a soft, loving smile, you returned his smile and knew that like you, he had no intention of picking up his book either.

If some ladies and lords in the court caught sight of the fearsome Aemond Targaryen with his family they made no move to make it known. Years ago Aemond might have wanted to avenge any slight, even that of a whisper about him that was mere gossip, but now he seemed to care little for that.

+

taglist: @itsghostgirlyo @rosaryos @cullenswife @whatafreakingloser @witchofthenorthstar @m-indkiller @somemydayy @malfoytargaryen @bellameshipper @targaryenmoony @regandjamielola @tarrgaryenss @khaleesihavilliard @lacunaanonymoused @joliettes @mxrgodsstuff @margaglitterdeath @simplyarryn

comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#dad!aemond #dad aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond x you #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen

[themotherofhorses]

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.  

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.  

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.  

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”  

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.  

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #dad!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[lya-dustin]

Kepa

Build-a-fic: Dad!Aemond

Featuring: Aemon Targaryen (oc), nameless wife who is Rhaenyra’s daughter and queen of westeros making Aemond her consort.

He was seven and ten when he became a father.

Aemon was born in Dragonstone three moons after Aemond had accidentally killed Lucerys Velaryon, his own wife’s half-brother.

Aemond would not hold him until he was nearly six moons old, when his mother had escaped Kingslanding after Lady Mysaria had poisoned Rhaenyra against her own heir.

He had wept when he first held him, to see him after all those months of Aemond and his wife waited with all the fear and joy pregnancy came with.

Aemon, named after her grandmother’s father and because it was just one letter away from being Aemond.

He was the promise of peace, of knowing that he would not have his family die in a war that should have never happened to begin with.

Aemon, first of his name, king of westeros, prince of peace.

“Ke-pa.”

It is soft, but sure and accompanied but little hands trying to wake him instead of his mother on his other side.

He was a name day old, just weeks ago they had the celebratory hunt where his first words had been better than the buck he had brought down for his lovely wife and son.

Aemon had said mama a moon ago, he had never said kepa or even papa yet.

“Hmn?” Aemond is unsure if he heard it right, but his eye remains shut to see if he can get his little son to say it again.

“Ke-pa.” the boy said again, this time his little hands reaching for his good eye. “Up.”

Most children are afraid of his scars and lack of eye, but not his son, not his perfect little prince.

No, to Aemon this was familiar and comforting. Strange and yet as comforting as his favorite blanket or his dragon egg.

“You are up early this morning, ñuhe trēsi.” Aemond finds himself unable to contain a smile as he whispers to his sweet little son. “Now, if you wake up your muña, we can get started with our day.”

Translations:

Kepa: father

Ñuhe trēsi: my son

Muña: mother

#dad!aemond #aemond x rhaenyra and laenor's! daughter #aemond x reader #aemon son of aemond #build a fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen

[eleanorbaybars]

Aemond Fluff ~ His Precious is healing his scar 🐣

GIF'i gönderen: elizascarlets

(Does this fic seem familiar? This might be why.)

Imagine Aemond with his precious baby girl, who is barely at at the age of one and a half and exploring everything around. Using all her senses, curiously touching and feeling. And the little princess' favourite feeling of closeness is to her daddy. She spends her mornings, bedtimes and quite some time in between those within dada's embrace by watching his expressions, movements of his good eye and lips closely.

Considering her age, she is surprisingly conscious of his "owie" eye and stitch marks. Dada has a "boo boo" according to her young cousins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Although never had seen what's under the eyepatch before, she can comprehend he was hurt in a way now and her little tummy feels weird at the thought of her favourite big person being hurt. So she acts on to make it better.

That evening Aemond holds her in his arms as he often does before tucking her in, as close as possible to his chest which is bursting with his love for his precious. She watches his closed eye intently as he tells her tales of old Valyria and dragons from the story book with colourful dragon paintings that he had made for her first name day. With his relaxed state, busy good eye and hands full with her and the book, he doesn't see her baby hands coming to his eyepatch and tugging at it; pushing it up successfully and baring all his stitch marks. He is so petrified but yet again careful not to hurt her in a panicked movement, he can only close his eyes and drops the book to fix his eyepatch.

He is late to break that shock moment though. Precious is already yanking his head towards herself by his soft locks -which are also among her favourite touch and grab items- and pushing her face into the owie side of his face, gives a warm and light lick to his scar trying to kiss her loving dada better. Neither stops there and keeps giving open mouthed healing kisses all over his cheek and eye.

Aemond is so struck by his little princess' affectionate act, he opens his eyes to see her properly without a second thought. He pulls her away from his face and the sapphire meets her equally bright eyes she inherited from her father. Her initially bewildered looks turn into awed ones and between her chubby cheeks, a wide smile with four baby teeth appears.

While still eyeing the sapphire she snuggles closer to his face and carefully reaches her short forefinger to touch the blue shine. Aemond is holding his shallow breaths as she examines. As soon as she is content and familiar with the newfound wonder of hers, she puts her cotton candy like hands around his face and gives yet another notoriously eager kiss on his sapphire eye.

Aemond finally releases his breath as tears fill his good eye but his chest feels even tighter than before. He lets out a sobbing laugh and rains his precious with kisses everywhere within the reach of his lips, breathing without a single worry or insecurity for the first time in a decade.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fluff #dad!aemond #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen fluff #eleanorwrites

[cambion-companion]

You awaken to the sounds of small feet padding across stone tiles and quiet 'shh' noises. The mattress sinks slightly with the weight of something being placed on it.

Or two somethings...

The mattress sinks behind you as well, rolling you into warm muscled arms. You smile.

Aemond gently kisses just below your ear. "Happy name-day, my love," he whispers, nuzzling your cheek. You smile wider and sigh, opening your eyes to two pairs of lavender ones staring at you.

"Good morrow, husband," you greet, "good morning my little dragons."

Your daughter is shuffling around on her bottom, holding a piece of paper in her little hands.

"Happy name-day, muña," she says, shyly handing you the card. The paper has been scrawled all over with colours of paint. You open it to a message written in your husbands neat hand (presumably dictated by you very demanding little girl): Happy name-day to the best muña ever!! love from Lyra.

You smile and reach out to thumb Lyra's cheek. "Thank you, Lyra."

You notice your son, Baelon is also holding a little card. The paper is mostly a mess of black ink. But you can still decipher the message on the inside: Happy name-day, muña.

Your husband winds his arm around your waist, pulling into his chest. "Thank you, little dragons," you say, opening your arms for a hug. Your children love your hugs, and so they squeal in delight when you open your arms to let them in. Aemond removes his arm from your waist to hold in your children and keep them from falling off the bed.

After a moment, he begins to unwind his arm and your children sit up.

"I need to give muña her present now," he tells them. "Go and play."

"But I want to know what you got muña, kepa?" Lyra insists.

"You will see after I've given it to her, now go."

Lyra huffs and slides off the bed, taking her little brother with her.

The door shuts and you turn to your husband.

"What is this present you are to give me that they will not know about?"

Aemond smiles, one of those seductive smiles that make your wet with ease.

"You will see, ñuha perzys," he says. "You will see."

Your husband only ever calls you that before he does something that leaves you begging and screaming his name.

He rolls you onto your front and positions himself between your thighs.

"This is your name-day," he says, "and this means you must be treated like a queen."

He leans in close to your ear.

"My queen."

As he starts to kiss your neck, you manage to stutter out, "And what will my King do to make me feel like his queen?" you say.

He ceases his attention to your neck to hover above you. "You king will ravish you." He kisses your neck. "He will pleasure you." Aemond kisses you between your breast. "He will relish in your taste, and leave you gasping for air."

He starts kissing his way up your thighs, going dangerously close to where you need him. Your already a panting mess.

"I will ensure that you can remember no words but my name."

"Aemond," you whimper.

"That's is, ñuha perzys. That's it."

Holy shirtless Dwayne Johnson

I am speechless yet again! What a beautiful masterpiece that had me tearing up in the beginning and fanning myself in the ending

Like omg happy birthday to all of us wow!

#dad!aemond #dad aemond #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #daddy aemond #aemond #aemond kinslayer #hotd x reader #lovely anons

[summerkoya]

the next right thing

Chapter 2

aemond targaryen x original female character , aemond targaryen x wife!oc

summary: Aemond takes care of his wife through the audience; Myria and Aemond attend a volatile family dinner.

warnings: little fluff, lots of angst, vulnerable aemond, aemond discusses his trauma

****

Myria had been instructed by the Maester to remain in bedrest for as long she could, to avoid any stitches from opening up and help them heal faster. That meant she hadn’t been able to greet the Velaryon upon their arrival, despite how much she desired to. She had met Rhaenyra before, since she had attended her and Aemond’s wedding, but they hadn't spoken that much.

She glanced down, towards the baby feeding on her chest, and smiled. She started stroking his little legs with her fingers, occasionally tickling his little feet, just to earn a heartwarming coo from the baby. But for every smile, she got an angry frown as well, as her teasing prevented him from eating. Sure, Max had her looks— but he had inherited his father’s temper. Aemond’s.

She turned her head, to stare at the painfully empty place beside her. He wasn’t around as much. He was either sparring in the patio, or teaching the boys how to care for their baby dragons, or reading them stories and teaching them High Valyrian, all for which Myria was grateful. But she missed him. And she couldn’t help but to think her endless foul mood, complaints and her always picking on fights had something to do with her husband’s absence. Maybe he had finally grown tired of her. 

The baby coughed against her chest, forcing her attention back to him and thankfully preventing her from diving into even sadder thoughts. At any other time, she would’ve been happy to stay all day in bed, with no other responsibilities but to take care of him, while the boys are under the safe care of their father, but with so many things happening at the castle, she dreaded the idea of being confined in her room, ignorant of everything outside the doors. 

So she dragged herself out of bed, grateful that Aemond wasn’t around to scold her, and left the room, with little Max on her arms. 

“Princess? Where are you going?” Yago, the bodyguard assigned to watch her door, asked, concerned. “Prince Aemond gave me strict instructions to not let you out of this room, you know?” He insisted, while grabbing her arm so he could ease her pain. Myria looked over at the man and grinned. Yago had been her sworn guard since she was a young girl in Dorne, and was specifically chosen by her father to protect her. When he agreed to accompany her to Westeros, to keep on looking after her, she was thrilled. He was a good friend, and an even kinder man. 

“Since when do you answer to my husband, instead of me?” She joked, letting a grunt of pain escape her lips. The man chuckled, and kept on strongly holding her frame, making sure she wasn’t putting too much pressure on her feet. Each step claimed a groan from her lips, but she didn't mind. She wouldn’t die out of exhaustion, boredom on the other hand… 

“I’m only loyal to you, Myria. Always.” He declared, switching his grin to a serious frown. “The moment things inevitably take a dangerous turn here… you simply say the word, and I’ll take care of everything. You, and the children.” 

“Yago… what have you heard?” She asked, looking at him with disbelief. 

“Whispers, my lady.” He explained. “Bad ones— corrupt ones. And your father is just as concerned as I am.” 

“You’ve talked to my father, how—” Myria mouth was shut, by him placing a gentle finger on her lips. 

Yago restrained himself by lending her a knowing look, and cleared his throat. Myria had failed to realise they had already arrived at the King’s door, and talking about such matters in front of the realm’s bodyguards wasn’t a very clever idea. 

“I’ll be here when you leave, Princess.” He said. 

“Thank you, Yago.” She smiled, putting on a nice smile. She then turned around, and looked at the guard outside the room. “I wish to pay a visit to the King.” She asked. 

“It’s been requested that the King receives no visitors.” The man grunted. 

“I only wish for him to be introduced to his new gransire.” She said, holding the baby closer to her chest. “I think the King will very much enjoy it.” 

The guard gave it another brief thought, before nodding and motioning for her to come inside. She thanked him, and walked across the room towards the bed, where a very ill Viserys laid. Judging from the bandages he had around his face, Myria could only assume the disease had progressed from the day before, and finally claimed his eye. And yet— as sickly and feebly as his body was, his mind remained unharmed in a way Maesters couldn’t quite explain. And Myria intended to enjoy what it could possibly be the last few weeks he had left of such awareness. 

“Is— is that who I think it is?” Viserys asked with a smile, doing his best to sit himself up, after spotting the young woman walking towards his bed. 

She sat herself next to him, and shifted the baby in her arms so he could get a better sight of him. 

“Hello, father.” She smiled. Upon meeting him, Viserys had been very adamant on her calling him father. He said he would have no daughter of his refer to him under formalities such as your grace, or my king, and for that, Myria was very grateful. She liked Viserys, and he had always made her feel very welcomed. “Meet your new grandson.” 

“Another boy?” He wheezed, showing a smile so big part of it disappeared behind the bandages. 

“His name is Max.” She chuckled. “Trystan named him.” 

“Oh,” he simpered, caressing the baby’s head. Visery’s face light up as Max grabbed one of his fingers, and strongly got a hold of it. “Max. He looks like you, dear.” 

“He really does.” She giggled. 

“He’s one precious little boy. Well done, Myria.” Viserys muttered, and squeezed her hand, looking at her with pride in his eye. 

Maybe it was at that moment she realised there were only a handful of stares like that one she would ever get from him, or maybe because receiving such affection from him made her realise she missed her own father so dearly, but Myria didn’t find the strength in herself to avoid tears from filling her eyes. 

“You’re a kind King, father, and an even kinder man.” She bubblered. “And all of your children and grandchildren love you very, very much. Your own daughter, Rhaenyra arrived here this morning, and I’m sure she will be visiting your chambers any time now.” 

Just as she said so, she heard a grunt behind them. Myria turned around and saw a scary looking man standing still, holding his hands behind his back. He had an eerie feeling to him, sinister enough that Myria felt shivers down her spine. Daemon. She had crossed paths once with him, and that was all she needed to realise he was not a man one could afford to be on his bad side.

Besides him, Princess Rhaenyra stood, listening with a gloomy smile to Myria’s words. Myria took their entrance as her cue to leave, assuming Rhaenyra probably wanted to spend time with her father alone. So she squeezed Viserys’ hand, and got up from the bed. She fought a flush of lightheadedness away, not having realised how much of a toll the walk towards the room had taken on her. 

“Princess, Rhaenyra” she bowed her head as she reached her side, “Prince Daemon. I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled, before starting to walk away. 

“Sister,” the Princess called her, before Myria could leave. She turned around, to find her grinning at her. “Congratulations,” she said, motioning towards the baby in her arms, “I hear it is a boy. Please extend my congrats to my brother.” 

“Yes,” she chuckled, “his name is Max. And I will.” 

“He’s lovely,” she said, tickling the baby’s feet, “you have three boys, just like Ser Laenor and I did.” 

“We do indeed.” She agreed. “I can only hope to be able to raise such nice and kind men as you did, Princess.” 

“Please call me sister, Myria, I insist.”  

“Sister,” she smiled, “I was told you became parents yourselves to two little boys recently. Aegon and Viserys, is that correct?” Of course she knew she was correct. The very night they got the news, their Aegon got drunk as ever, and joked about Rhaenyra finally ‘breeding Targaryen looking’ children. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you, Myria.” Rhaenyra answered, with a genuine smile. As much as Myria wanted to understand Aemond’s family feud with them— she couldn’t. The woman seemed kind and sweet, and a loving mother as well. 

“Well I better leave, I’m sure you’re eager to see your father. I hope we run into each other again, Rhaenyra.” 

“I hope so too.” 

After one last bow of her head, Myria finally left the room. Yago was waiting outside, as he said he would. 

“Are you ready to go back to bed?” He asked, worried at the sight of her pale face, and the weak grip on his arm. 

“Yes please,” she whispered, handing him the baby, “could you please carry him, too? I’m afraid I don’t think I have that much strength left.” 

“Of course, princess.” He said, holding the baby with gentleness. He was great with children, and Myria felt very lucky indeed her sons got to regard him as not only a protector, but as family. 

They were walking with leisure and in silence throughout the castle’s hallways, when an angry voice called her from behind. 

“Myria?” 

Myria stopped in her tracks, recognising that voice as her husband’s and dreading the upcoming discussion. She slowly turned around with a grimace, only to find a very irritated Aemond striding towards her. 

He stood before her, and fixed his gaze on hers, without saying a word, as if she were being silently scolded. “I will carry my son and escort my wife from now on, thank you very much Yago.” He hissed, and then turned around to grab the baby into his arms. 

The man handed the child to him, and then glanced at Myria. She vaguely nodded her head, and Yago carried on with his way. Only after he had disappeared from their sight, did Aemond deign to look at her again. 

“What were you thinking?” He taunted her, still offering one of his arms for her to hold on. “The Maester gave you strict orders to remain in bedrest.” 

“I wished to introduce Max to your father.” She explained, naively following his steps. 

“You could’ve asked me to do so.” He said, with a strained voice.

“You weren’t around.” She argued, in a repproaching manner she didn’t actually mean. 

“I took the boys for a ride in Vaghar, so you and Max could rest, is that so bad of me?” He sneered, turning on a hallway Myria knew didn’t lead to their chambers. 

“W— where are we going?” She asked. 

“I’m going to leave you with Helaena and my mother’s company, as you can’t seem to be trusted enough to look after your own well being.” He grunted. “If I can’t keep an eye on you, I want them to do so.” 

“Then do keep an eye on me, Aemond.” She exhaled, pulling on his arm so he would turn towards her. “Stay with me, and the baby.” 

“The boys—

“The boys are perfectly content to play with the twins, under the care of your sister and the Septa.” She snapped, putting an end to her husband’s excuses. “I know you think I’m angry at you, for it seems as of late we can not help but to get into an argument every time we speak, but I’m not.” 

Myria delicately placed her hand on his face, and the other one on his chest. 

“And I know it’s my fault, as I’m the one always picking fights,” she continued, “and for that I have no explanation. Maybe it’s due to the lack of sleep, maybe it’s simply because being with child gets me into a foul mood, but one thing I know is that it’s not because of you.”

“For every feeling of annoyance I might have towards you, I promise there’s twice as many loving ones. And I apologise if that has made my presence dreadful to you. But I don’t want you to drift away from me, Aemond.” She pleaded, resting her face on his neck. 

He gruffed, letting the rest of his exasperation leave in that exhale, and lowered his gaze towards her.

“Don’t ever worry about that again,” he muttered, leaving a kiss on her forehead.

• • •

The following morning, when she woke up, Aemond was by her side, holding her hand against his chest, as he always did. She turned around to make sure Max was still sleeping, and was relieved to find the baby soundly snoozing on his cradle. 

She then swirled to face her husband once again, and placed a gentle hand on his face. Even in his sleep he didn’t look peaceful, or vulnerable. 

Myria delicately trailed her finger throughout his scar, wishing he would open up more often about the story behind it. She so deeply wanted to be understanding of her husband’s ever lasting quarrel with his nephew, but she couldn’t think of it as any more than that— a childish fight, if he didn’t tell her what had truly happened that night. Sure, he had explained to her how he lost his eye, but the way he narrated it led her to believe it had been more of an unfortunate incident rather than an intentional offence. Aegon had also comedically filled her in about the pig incident, over a few too many cups they had shared, but she thought there was more to it. There had to be more to it. Among the many things Aemond was— childish wasn’t one of them. He wouldn’t be so resentful of the boy unless something more meaningful than what he told her had happened. 

As gentle as she ensured her caresses remained, perhaps she had been thinking too loud, because next thing she knew, Aemond was sleepily opening his eye.

He reached for her hand on his chest, and drew it towards his lips, so he could leave a kiss on it. “Good morning.” He said, in a raspy voice. He then noticed her fingers trailing his scar, and chuckled. “What are you doing?” 

“Good morning, dear.” She whispered, bringing her face closer to his. “I was just fawning over my handsome husband.” 

“Hm.” He hummed, as a flustered smile stretched on his lips. Even when a tiresome frown covered her face, skin pale and frail product of a hard childbirth, he still thought she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, than to have her, but above all he was a gentleman, and his wife’s comfort would always be a priority to him. He knew it would take time before she could endeavour in such activities, and was fine with that. He was perfectly happy with simply admiring her. Admiring the way her swollen breasts pressed against his body, the way her nightgown enhanced the soft curves of her hips, or the way she bit down on her lips, leaving a faint shade of burgundy in them. 

But Myria must have noticed his gaze fixing on her lips, or maybe she just felt the very obvious arousal in his pants, because she then brought her face to his, pressing their foreheads, and hummed. 

“You can kiss me, if you want.” 

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” 

“A kiss won’t hurt me.” She whispered, closing the gap between them, and left a peck on his lips. 

He didn’t reciprocate at first, still unsure about it; he didn’t want to make her feel as if she owed him that. But he was convinced by the way his wife didn’t seem to care about that, and kept on passionately deepening the kiss. 

He then grabbed her waist and moved her body above his, to both avoid crushing her and letting her be the one in control, and hungrily took on her mouth. His soft, gentle kisses turned into greedy ones, agonising as he couldn’t get enough of her. 

It was when Myria realised how much she had missed having her husband. She yearned for his touch, for his kisses, for his love. But it was a bittersweet feeling— she desired her husband, although she didn’t desire intimacy. She still felt sore, uncomfortable and weak because of the baby. But Aemond knew that, hence his lack of any sort of following advances. He felt entirely content with being able to just hold her, and kiss her. 

They were interrupted by the soft cooing of a baby who had just awakened. Myria laughed into the kiss, and then turned around, to pick the baby into her arms. “Someone wants some attention too.” She chuckled. 

“Greedy.” Aemond joked, straightening up. He reached towards her, so he could take the baby into his arms. He placed his head on both his hands, as to let his little legs kick against his chest. 

Myria sweetly smiled at the sight, since it wasn’t common for Aemond to take that sort of initiative. He was never one to refuse holding his children, whether it was because Myria needed some help, or because the boys demanded him to, but he didn’t usually ask for it. It warmed her heart seeing him get more comfortable in that role— he wouldn’t have dared to carry Trystan with such confidence when he was born, and yet there he was, picking up Max from her own arms, not even asking before. 

She bent towards the baby, so she could leave a kiss on his temple, and with a groan got up from bed, and started to get ready for the day. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond asked, when he saw her change into a lavish, lavender dress. 

“I’m getting ready, we have an important audience to attend today.” She explained, struggling to do the buttons on the back. “Could you come help me button this up?” 

Aemond remained still. “Yesterday you said you didn’t wish to pick on fights, and yet it seems you do everything in your power to make me start an argument.” He hissed. 

“Don’t use that voice, I don’t want the baby to get upset.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you should go, dearest.” Aemond faked a smile.

“Well, I’m going anyway, so I don’t see the point in—

“The Maester said you should rest, an audience where something is bound to go wrong is hardly the place you should drag yourself to.” 

“Then thank the Gods I have a caring, loving husband who will keep me company at all times, ensuring I’m alright.” 

He simply huffed at her, and returned his attention to the baby. “You will never be as troublesome as your mother, right Max?” He asked, tickling the boy’s feet. “She’s certainly proficient at keeping me on my toes.” 

“Otherwise you’d be bored.” She smiled, sitting besides the both. “It’s important that I go, Aemond.” She added, in a serious voice. “My father is the ruling Prince of Dorne, and my sister will inherit that title after him. I’m the only person here at court that can keep them updated on such politics. I don’t wish to be ignorant of them. Please understand.” 

Aemond stared at her for several moments, before answering. “I do.” 

“Thank you.” Myria smiled. “Now, help me get this dress buttoned up, or else I will make a spectacle of myself at court.” 

Aemond placed the baby on his crib, and stood behind his wife. Seeing her bare shoulders brought lustful feelings to the depths of his stomach, but he ignored them. 

“For some reason it doesn’t seem to close.” She complained, as he put his hands on her back, struggling to pin the buttons together.

“Yes, because it doesn’t fit.” He said, innocently. 

Myria turned around, and glared at him with so much fury, he wished he could confront a dragon instead. 

• • •

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, princess?” Vaemond asked, with a smug expression on his face. “I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognise it.” 

Myria discreetly clenched her fist against the blue fabric of her dress, her other hand tightly around Aemond’s arm. She couldn’t believe the nerve of Corlys’ younger brother. 

Although she could understand where he came from, and his desire to protect his house, Myria would never condone the way he so obscenely disrespected a Princess of the realm, especially in front of her children, who most certainly weren’t at fault for their lineage. 

“This is about the future and survival of my house,” the man continued, “not yours. My queen, my lord hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation and survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides.” 

“Thank you, sir Vaemond.” Otto said, from his seat in the Iron Throne. Myria glanced around her, entirely surrounded by people who most certainly rooted for Rhaenyra’s downfall, and thought it was not fair for her. “Princess Rhaenyra,” he then called, “you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.” 

The Princess retracted her hands from her swollen stomach, and trudged towards the centre of the room. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding that nearly twenty years ago, in this very—

The Princess' speech was interrupted by the loud noise of the throne room’s door being opened. Myria looked up towards her husband, to see if he was aware of what was happening, but she found him to be as ignorant as she was. 

But her obliviousness was accounted for by the voice of one of the guards. “King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” 

Myria let go of Aemond’s arm in order to get a glimpse of the King. She positioned herself between Aegon and Helaena, and got a better view of the hall. Her heart clenched at the sight of him, ill beyond any cure, dragging himself across the room, with nothing but a cane to support him. His walking was erratic, and sickly, he seemed as if he were about to collapse at any second. She reverently bowed her head as he lumbered past them, worried Viserys would not be able to walk up the stairs. 

“I will sit the Throne today.” He told Otto, stopping before him. 

“Your Grace.” 

A few guards bolted towards the man, in order to aid him, but he refused the help. He then slowly tumbled towards the throne, losing his crown in the process. The piercing noise with which the symbol clattered against the floor was one Myria would never forget. It would forever remind her of the lengths the man would go to protect his first born daughter. 

Daemon was the one to approach him, and placed a steady hand on his lower back, to help him to the seat. With a groan, the King sank into the throne, and Daemon was quick to place the crown on his head. He directed one last nod towards his brother, and returned to Rhaenyra’s side. 

“I must… admit… my confusion.” Viserys said, between heavy breaths. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, your Grace.” The woman, who had remained silent and still for most of the audience, confidently walked towards Rhaenyra’s side. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, and nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” 

Myria looked at Vaemond, and could almost see the smoke coming from his nostrils. He was shivering in fury.

“Well…” Viserys sighed, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” 

And then it was turmoil. Such words from the King were enough to make Vaemond forget about any kind of protocol, and started accusing the King for breaking centuries long laws and traditions, and condemned Rhaenyra for adultery. 

“Her children are… bastards!” He yelled. “And she is… a whore.” 

The whole crowd, Myria included, gasped in shock that Vaemond would dare say such a thing. Predicting the inevitable, Aemond worriedly reached for Myria’s hand, bringing her closer to him. She clumsily stepped back, until she was by his side, and clutched on his arm. 

In an agonising gesture, The King got to his feet, with all the fury his sickly body allowed him to. “I…” he breathed, reaching for a dagger within his clothes “will have your tongue for that.” 

But Viserys didn’t need to claim any more threats, because quicker than a heartbeat and stealthily than a whisper, Daemon grabbed his sword, and swiftly cut Vaemond’s head in half. 

Myria choked in horror, as Aemond stepped right in front of her, to avoid such unpleasant sights from reaching her eyes. She clenched on his shoulders, starting to feel dizzy. 

Everything following that happened in a blur, and next thing she knew, she was being led by her husband outside the room, towards the gardens. Only when they were both leaning against the terrace, looking at the sea, did he open his mouth. 

“I thought you could use some fresh air, my lady.” 

“Indeed,” she inhaled, trying her best to forever remove the images of Vaemond’s head flying through the air from her brain, “I can’t believe that happened.”

“I do.” He scoffed, rubbing her back with a reassuring pace. “That’s why I didn’t want you to go. Vaemond was bound to lose something for daring to speak in such a way. You” he added, pointing a reproaching finger towards her, “have too reckless a mouth sometimes as well.”

“I would never go as far as calling Rhaenyra’s children illegitimate outside of our bedroom.” She complained. 

“But you would take the risk of yelling in this very garden, for everyone to hear, that you think a deposition against her is being planned.” He said, grabbing a strand of hair the wind had blown against her face and putting it behind her ear. 

Myria closed her eyes at his touch, and inhaled. “You’re right.” She admitted, dropping her shoulders. “It was foolish of me.”

“The yelling was foolish, the speculation not so much.” He said, lowering his voice, eye fixed on the ocean. “I apologise for dismissing your worries that day, truth be told I share them too. But there’s nothing we can do about it, Myria. And there’s nothing we should do about it, especially since we are clearly on opposing fronts.” 

Myria hummed, the feeling of apprehension tightening her chest. “I am never in an opposite front to you, Aemond.” She whispered, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I am by your side, always. I might not agree with… some of your family's doings, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t stand by you, in every possible scenario.” 

“Even if my brother were to be crowned?”

“I am loyal to you.” 

“What if your father took Rhaenyra’s side? If it came to a war, and you were to choose between us or your family?”

“That’s unfair.” She muttered. He simply shrugged. “You are my family, Aemond.” She said, holding his hand, more than anything hoping the time to make such a choice would never come. He nodded, and pressed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Let me escort you to our chambers, you should rest before dinner with our family tonight.” 

“As you wish, my love.” 

• • •

Myria watched as her husband got ready, while gently rocking the baby in her arms. She had already put the boys to bed, after getting on a nice dress and doing a simple hairstyle. Max had finally fallen asleep, when she heard a soft knock on the door. She glanced at Aemond, who left his buttons undone, and pulled the door open. 

“Hi,” Myria greeted the Septa with a whisper, “I just fed Max, and I’ve rocked him to sleep, so I think he should be down for the night. The boys are also in their beds, they shouldn’t be that much trouble. Prince Aemond made sure to tire them out by sparring with them, so they should be snoring already.” She explained, as she placed the baby in the woman’s arms. “Although, Griffin has been having some night terrors, so he might wake up at some point.” 

“Don’t worry, Princess, I know a lot of stories.” The older woman spoke softly, with a soothing smile. 

“Great, he’ll love that.” Myria said, escorting her to the boys’ room. “I’ll fetch the baby when we’re back, thank you.” 

She returned back to her chambers, and promptly helped Aemond get ready. After that, the two of them bolted towards dinner, with Myria walking as fast as his sore body allowed her. 

“We would get there earlier if you carried me.” She asserted, with a condescending pout. 

“I’m not doing that.” 

By the time they reached the room, everyone except for the King had already arrived, and they were either talking or already sitting down. Aemond guided her towards the left side of the table, where his family was, opposite to Rhaenyra’s. Two steps into the room, she could already feel the tension between the two families, especially between the Queen and the Princess.

“Oh, Myria!” Alicent said with delight, when she spotted her. “It’s so nice of you to join us, we weren’t sure if you were coming.” She then turned towards Rhaenyra’s side of the table. “Princess Myria gave birth to a healthy baby boy two nights ago.” She explained. 

“I know,” Rhaenyra smiled, “we crossed paths this morning. The baby is darling. Congratulations, Prince Aemond.” She added, staring at the man. 

He hummed in response, and looked down. “Thank you.”

Alicent stared at her son for a moment, before returning her gaze to Myria. “I hope you’re not overburdening yourself. You shouldn’t have come, darling, given your condition.” 

“Dear mother, my sister is much too nosy to do such a thing.” Aegon cackled. Myria not so discreetly nudged him in his ribs, earning a groan from the man. 

“I would never miss out on such an opportunity to be with family, my Queen.” She said, with a pleasant smile. She then turned towards Aegon, and stared at him with anger. 

Truth be told— she got along with the man, and she thrived on their quarrels. “That hit was pathetic, dear sister.” He whispered to her ear. 

“My apologies, I’ll make sure to carry a dagger next time. Is being stabbed enough for you?” 

“You could stab me in the face and I still wouldn’t look as wretched as you do as of now.” 

Myria stared at him in disbelief. She knew childbirth had taken a toll on her, and that she no longer looked the vivacious, charming woman she had been before. “Too far.” 

“Too far.” Aegon agreed. 

Their bickering was interrupted by the King’s entrance; four bodyguards carrying him in his chair only to place him between his wife and daughter. 

“How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.” He said, once everyone had taken their seats. 

“A prayer before we begin?” Alicent suggested. 

“Yes.” 

Myria glanced towards Aemond, and saw him close his eye and press his hands together, respecting his mother’s wishes, so she did the same. 

“May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love.” Alicent started. “May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest.” Myria had her eyes shut, and was on the opposite side of him, and yet she could still sense Daemon’s smug expression. The cackle that came afterwards was embraced with quietude.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems.” The King broke the silence. “My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further straightening the bond between our houses.” Myria was happy to see both couples smiling fondly at each other. Happy marriages should always be celebrated, she thought. “A toast to the young Princes, and their betrothed.” 

“Hear, hear!” Daemon chanted, as everyone raised their cups. 

“Lets toast as well Prince Lucerys…” Myria noticed Aemond tensing up by her side, so she searched for his hand under the table, and squeezed it, “the future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear.” 

Viserys then pushed on his cane, to give him strength to stand up, and continued his speech. 

“It both gladdens my heart, and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past.” He then used his one hand to take the golden mask off, which fell with a thud on the table. Myria chugged down at the sight. “My own face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a King, but your father. Your brother. Your husband… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown can not stand strong if the house of the dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all… so dearly.” As if talking had drained his remaining energy, the King plopped down on his seat, with Alicent’s aid to put back his mask. 

To everyone’s surprise, Rhaenyra then stood up, and raised her cup. “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen.” Alicent turned her gaze towards her, with a sorrowful expression on her face. “I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love and honour. And for that she has my gratitude… and my apology.” 

The room waited unusually quiet, as whispers of truce wandered around the table. Neither Myria nor the rest had any way of knowing, but it was more than truce. Friendship, once forgotten, ruined by the vile strings of destiny. 

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess.” Alicent muttered. “We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common that we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine Queen.” 

Myria reached once again for Aemond’s hand below the table, as Alicent’s words filled her body with warmth, and peace. She wouldn’t have to pick. The future she so dreaded, the one she and her husband had discussed that very morning, slipping away, leaving nothing but sour feelings, the kind a bad dream left. Frightening, but comforting by the fact that they would never become true. She brushed his hand, but her gesture wasn’t reciprocated. 

She glanced towards Aemond, who looked as calm as the next person, but Myria knew him better. He was angry, trying his best to prevent his emotions from breaking out. She couldn’t help but to think one last apology was overdue. How different things would’ve ended up otherwise. 

Everyone then sipped on their cups, and the feast began. Myria saw Aegon get up from her side, towards Jace, but didn’t think much of it. Only after getting startled by Jacaerys’ strong fist against the table did she look towards them. 

“To Prince Aegon and… Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may be friends and allies. To you and your families’ good health, dear uncles.” 

Myria raised her cup to that, and gave it a sip. She didn’t catch the look of betrayal her husband sent at her. 

Helaena was then the one to stand up, and raised her cup. “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.” Myria looked up towards her, and lovingly grabbed her hand. Above everyone in Aemond’s family, Helaena was the one Myria loved the most. The girl had become a sister to her, and she regarded her as one. She resented the way Aegon treated her. 

Myria didn’t realise, but both she and Helaena became targets of pitiful stares from the other side of the table. If only they knew what a wonderful husband Aemond was to her. Truth be told— she was prepared for someone not even half as great as he was to her. 

“Let’s us have some music.” The King asked, and instruments started playing. Both Jace and Luke rose from their seats, and walked towards the two girls at the other end of the table. 

Luke offered his hand to Myria, in an invitation to dance, and she couldn’t help but to take it. She knew her husband would feel betrayed by her doing so, but not accepting it would’ve been taken as a gesture of hostility… and she really loved to dance, an activity which Aemond rarely granted his company for. 

She accepted the boy’s hand with a shy smile on her face, and joined the other two on their dance. Her movements were sluggish and erratic, given that she still felt pretty sore, but Luke seemed to catch up on that, and corresponded with her pace. Helaena and Myria beamed and laughed at each other each time their paths crossed, excited for being able to endeavour in such a diversion. 

Only when the room went still as the King being taken away by guards, did she notice how carried on she had gotten. She looked towards Aemond, and found him staring at her, with a fervid glare tracing her frame as she danced. 

Guilt set on the depths of her stomach, and so she thanked Luke for the dance, and returned to her husband’s side. She tried grabbing his hand, not daring to look at him, but her advances were, rather painfully, rejected by him. She then raised her gaze, only to see him intensely staring at Luke across the table, as a pig was placed in front of them. She saw the boy’s grin, and knew that would be the last straw. 

She tried stopping Aemond from getting up, after he smashed an angry fist against the table, but he cruelly pushed her hands down. “Final tribute.” He announced. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.” 

“Aemond.” She whispered, scared of the outcome his reckless words were doomed to have. 

“Come,” he continued, “let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.” Jace threatened him, threateningly walking towards him. 

“Why?” Aemond cackled, approaching him as well. ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?” 

Jace slapped him in the face, and Myria gasped in terror. Aemond stood still, rather amused at the boy’s effort. She tried grabbing one of his arms, but he gently shoved her backwards. 

Chaos broke in the room as Aegon pushed Luke against the table, and Rhaenyra and Alicent yelled for everyone to stop. Aemond knocked Jace to the floor, and turned around chuckling. Myria was petrified at the sight of her husband apparently enjoying all of it. 

She froze in panic, as her gaze reached his, and showed no remorse whatsoever in his semblance. She looked at him, unintentionally staring at him appalled, which she then regretted upon seeing his hurtful expression. She had done the one thing she had promised him she would never do: not being on his side. And for that, Myria could not forgive herself. 

Alicent ran past her, to approach him. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?” She whispered, with anger. 

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” He replied, rather loudly, not reciprocating his mother’s attempt to keep their discussion away from everyone’s ears. “Hm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” 

Jace bolted towards him, as to start a fight again, and he would’ve done so, if it weren’t for Daemon stepping in between the two. 

“Wait, wait.” He said, calmly. He stared at the man he believed to be the root of the chaos, and Aemond held his gaze for a couple of seconds, until he awkwardly looked away, and left the room. 

“Wait, Aemond!” Myria called him, but he didn’t turn back. He wasn’t running, but he was walking at a pace fast enough she couldn’t keep up with him, hard as she tried. “Aemond, wait for me.” She whined, earning no response from him. She kept following him across the hallway, until she couldn’t. 

The Maester had been right, she was in no condition to handle all of that. She should’ve stayed in her room. That way, she wouldn’t have caused that mess. Most importantly, she wouldn’t have caused her husband such pain. She leaned against a wall, heavily breathing, and closed her eyes. She was busy trying to calm her racing heart, when she felt a hand lay on her lower back. 

“Come on.” He said, grabbing her by the waist, and effortlessly raising her in his arms— yet refusing to meet her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, a lump full of unspoken emotions choked her throat, as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “Gods, Aemond, I am so, so sorry.” She threw her arms around him, burying him in a hug. He instinctively embraced her back, resting his cheek against her head. Her face was laying on top of his shoulders, and he could feel her relentless sobs on his neck. She didn’t deserve such kindness from him. 

He always savoured seeing those who he felt had wronged him in pain, but his wife could never possibly do wrong enough for him to enjoy her anguish. He felt as if he were the one being tortured instead, which wasn’t fair at all given the situation.

“Shh.” He calmed her, tenderly rubbing her back. “I am not angry at you.” 

“I—I know.” She hiccuped. “But I am m—mad at myself.” 

Aemond figured there was nothing he could do about that, so he simply kissed her forehead, and kept on carrying her towards their shared room. Once they reached it, he decided to drop on the plush chair by the bookshelves, with Myria still on top of him. 

She kept on quietly tearing up on the crook on his neck, while he reached towards the chair arm, from which her legs were dangling. He took each of her shoes away, letting them fall with a thud against the floor. 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” She cried, finally lifting her gaze towards his. 

“I am upset with you.” He had no trouble confessing that. “But not as upset as you seem to be with yourself. Why?” 

“I danced with Luke. Wasn’t that the reason you got so furious?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t enjoy that, but I’d say I’m more angry at Lucerys because of it than you.” 

“That’s exactly what upsets me!” She sobbed. He stared at her in confusion, and disbelief. His wife’s erratic emotions weren’t that much of a thrill to him. “That I don’t know how you feel, or how you might feel. That I fail to understand why a childish quarrel that’s over ten years old enrages you so much! And I’ve come to realise it’s my fault. That I’ve never tried enough to force it out of you!” 

He drew his lips into a line, and stared out the window. 

“Did you get angry because of the pig, then?” She asked. He abruptly looked at her again, visibly bewildered. He had never told her that story. He was about to ask her where she had heard such a tale, when— Aegon. Of course. Myria wasn’t one to drink that much, but she did rather indulge in a few too many more cups than what she could handle when enjoying dinner with his brother. Most of those times Aemond didn’t pay attention to their blabbers.   

“Of course it wasn’t about the stupid pig.” He snapped, angry, and certainly not desiring to discuss such a topic. He tried to move her aside so he could get up, but she placed a hand on his chest and softly pushed him back. 

“Aemond… what really happened that night?” 

He looked at her, and grunted. He didn’t want to talk about it, not then, not ever. He didn’t owe anyone the reasoning behind his grudges. They were there. They stood there, as the angry, newly red scar crossed his face, and blamed him for it. Rhaenyra herself asked for him to be tormented for simply stating the truth. What everybody already knew. 

As she reached for the buckle behind his head, lovingly undoing it to then leave a kiss above the sapphire in his eye, he realised his poor wife didn’t deserve his cold temper. She hadn’t been there, she had no way of knowing. She didn’t understand it was more than a childish grudge, because he had never let her believe otherwise. Perhaps he was too afraid of being vulnerable. He looked up towards her, and found that if ever there was a moment to be such a thing, it was with her. His adoring wife. The woman who kissed his scar each time she caught a glimpse of it. The woman who put up with his temper with a loving smile on her face. The woman who had never, not even once, rejected any part of him, and instead embraced the whole of him, bad and worse. The woman who had honoured him with being the mother of his children. And then the words came flooding. 

He told her how the rest of the kids had ganged up against him, for claiming Vaghar as his own. He explained how he had never been serious about hurting them, and yet he still lost his eye. He told her how his mother had been the only one who had actually cared about him getting irreparably hurt, and the embarrassment everyone put her through that night. 

“I got angry because my father dragged himself from deathbed today to defend what my sister brought on herself and yet he couldn’t care less when I lost an eye.” He explained. “I am mad that my mother, the only person who stood by me, was put to shame that night, being treated like a crazy woman. I am mad that my nephews seem to thrive on it. And I am mad that no one seems to understand that.” 

“I understand, now.” She said, tearing up. “You deserve an apology, Aemond. Both you, and your mother. It’s not childish to want one, it's what you’re due.”

He very simply stared at her, softening his sharpened features as the sight of her tears, and kissed her hand. 

“I am sorry I didn’t understand before.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Yes it is.” She said. “I am your wife. And I promised you I would always be by your side, but tonight I wasn’t. And I apologise for that.” She inhaled, bracing up in courage to say her next words. “I love you, Aemond. And I want my actions, all of them, to be a testament of that.”

He wasn’t crying, and he wouldn’t cry, such a gesture didn’t even cross his mind. Crying was a reaction long lost in him, it took too much of an effort. But he was moved— he wouldn’t deny so. He very subtly nodded, and buried his head against her chest, gripping on her back. They remained like that until Myria fell asleep, and Aemond carried her to bed. He laid down next to her, holding tight onto her body, and for the first time in a very long time found sleep with his mind at peace.

****

a/n: i hope you enjoy this! and i hope it's not too long lol. just a few notes on the chapter: Aegon is not as shitty as he is in the show, and also Viserys' illness doesn't progress as quickly. Thank you so much for reading!

@cherryaemond

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x wife! #aemond targaryen x original female character #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond x oc #aemond hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #dad!aemond #aemond x original female character #aemond #aemond targaryen headcanons #aemond headcanons #aemond targaryen imagine #father!aemond #aemond targaryen x wife!oc #aemond has a family au #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond

[sapphire-writes]

flowers ~ Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: dad!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: Aemond and his children take a stroll in the gardens.

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: none, pure fluff

A/N: Had a request for more dad!Aemond, couldn't resist!

Requests are open 💚

Aemond had spent the early morning collecting his children and bringing them to the gardens before you rose from your shared bed. It was a special day, and he wanted to make you feel extraordinary. 

As the early morning sun rose higher in the sky, Aemond and his two children paraded through the gardens, hunting for flowers. 

“How do you know which flowers mother likes?” Vaelora asked, her mouth twisted, brows furrowed. Aemond chuckled at his daughter’s remark.

“I discovered early on which flowers your mother enjoys. And which suits her,” he told her, clipping a dragon’s breath from a nearby bush. 

Vaegon was nearby, grabbing fistfuls of golden roses. 

“I enjoy these ones,” Vaelora said, and Aemond turned to her. She held a pair of blood-blooms in her small hands. “Would mother like these?”

Aemond smiled at his daughter, his first born. Aemond did not think it was possible to love someone as fiercely as he does his little family.  

“She shall love them.” 

Vaelora smiled, pleased at her father’s praise. 

“Kepa,” Vaelora said, “when did you start bringing mother flowers?”

Aemond smiled at the question, at his curious daughter. 

“When your mother arrived in the Red Keep,” he began, “we were not meant to be betrothed.”

Vaelora’s eyes widened. She had not heard this story before, though she had always been curious. Through her lessons she had learned that most marriages were made for political purposes. But she knew this was not true with Aemond and you. She could see the love you held for each other. 

“You weren’t?”

Aemond hummed, shaking his head. 

“But, do you know what I did?” he asked, causing Vaelora to shake her head in return, silver curls bouncing. 

“I left a flower outside her chambers, on the plate she used to break her fast, on her seat during feasts,” he said, smiling at the memory.

“What flower?” she asked.

“Dragon’s breath,” Aemond said, passing one of the red flowers to Vaelora. She held it gently in her small hands, as though it may fall apart from her touch.  

He could still picture it, the smile that crept to your face, the blush that filled your cheeks as flowers found you daily. You were a clever woman, you had figured out the prince’s ruse rather quickly. 

“And mother liked it?”

“Enough to marry me. Enough to bless me with you,” he said teasingly, tickling Vaelora’s stomach, and causing her to giggle. 

“And Vaegon,” she corrected, causing Aemond to hum in agreement, as her younger brother came to join them with fists full of flowers. 

“Shall we pick more dragon’s breath for mother as well?” Vaelora asked. 

“I think that is a splendid idea,” Aemond agreed, following his children deeper into the gardens. 

~

Your son Vaegon was barely visible behind the bouquet of flowers he held in his small arms. A laugh escaped your lips. 

Aemond crouched next to him, ushering him forward. Your son approached you and you knelt, pushing through the flowers until meeting his violet eyes. 

“Happy nameday mother,” he said cheerfully, presenting the bouquet. 

“We picked them ourselves!” Vaelora said, a proud smile on her lovely face. You took the flowers from him, taking care to press your nose into the colorful flowers, inhaling the sweet scent. 

“How very sweet, my little dragons,” you crooned, taking both children into your arms for a hug. You smiled at Aemond as he leaned against the doorway to your shared chambers. 

“And we have set up a picnic in the gardens to break our fast!” Vaegon said, excitedly. 

“What a lovely idea,” you tell him, stroking his silver head. You stand up, taking the bouquet with you, finding an empty vase on the table. You place the flowers inside and begin to arrange them. 

“Kepa says we can see Vhagar later as well, and fly across the bay!” Vaelora says, coming to your side. 

“I cannot think of a more perfect day!” you tell her, taking her hand in yours as she pulls you towards the door. 

“Come, come see!” Vaelora demands, clasping Aemond’s hand in her free one, dragging both parents from the room. Vaegon trails behind, and Aemond scoops him up with his free arm. 

Vaelora leads you back o the gardens, where a blanket has been laid out for you to break your fast. As you sit down on the blanket Vaelora notices a dragon’s breath flower laying atop your plate, the bright red petals striking against the white plate. 

You pick up the flower, a dark rouge spreading across your cheeks as you glance at your husband. Aemond’s smile is soft.

“Biare brōzi tubis issa jorrāelagon,” he murmurs, lacing his hand in yours (Happy name day, my love). The look he gives you is one of adoration.

Vaelora smiles. Though she is just beginning to grasp her mother tongue, she understands what her father means.

#dad!aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond fluff

[maidragoste]

Bastard

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) 

Summary: Aelor finds out that you are not his biological mother.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

part of the universe of "the queen and her husbands" but can be read independently

Masterlist Serie

It was no secret that Aemond had days when he felt uncomfortable seeing Aelor because he reminded him of Alys Rivers. Still, he always tried to be a good father, one better than Viserys. That's why when he just saw his son enter his chambers with a red face and full of tears he was already ready to cut off the head of whoever he had hurt his son. But that had to wait because now he had to deal with reassuring his child.

"Come here"

Another time Aelor would stay where he was and try to calm himself down. He wanted to show his father that he was already a big boy, but right now all he wanted was to be in his arms and be comforted so he ran to Aemond and let him sit on his lap.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Aemond asked as he stroked the boy's back in circles.

"Baelon called me a bastard" replied his son, still crying but at least he didn't seem as agitated as before.

Well, he forgets the murder part because Aemond can't kill his other son but he would definitely punish him for bothering his brother. Though he could already imagine Baelon telling him that he couldn't punish him for telling the truth. It didn't matter that you and Aegon legitimized the boy to the rest of the world, he would always be a bastard.

It was not your intention to lie to Aelor. They never told him that you were his mother, but you didn't deny it when he first called you Muña. He was just copying his siblings and you didn't feel the need to correct him because for you he was another son.

"He also said that Muña is not my mother," he said with a trembling voice "Is it true?" Aelor asked devastated because deep down he already knew the answer. Baelon was right to point out that he didn't look like any of his family. All of his siblings had platinum or blonde hair while he had brown curls. Aemon wanted to make him feel better by telling him that their grandmother, Alicent, also had dark hair but Aelor wasn't a fool. His hair was nothing like their grandmother's.

"Your brother is wrong" Aemond replied instantly. It felt disrespectful for someone to say that because even though you didn't give birth to Aelor, you were the one who took him in first, you were the one who, upon learning of his illness, flew to Harrenhal and took care of him as if he were another one of your children, you were the one who convinced him to bring the child to live with you, you raised him as if he were yours so you were his mother "You were born of another woman" when he saw that his son was about to interrupt him he continued speaking "But your Muña will always be your muña. She loves you more than anything just like she loves your brothers. It doesn't matter that you were not born to her, you are as much her son as your brothers are"

"Your kepa is right," you said from the door, drawing the attention of both. You had found out what happened because Aemon went looking for you worried because he couldn't find Aelor. You were furious when you heard that Baelon had called his brother a bastard, you wanted to question him and find out where he had heard that word from and why he said it to his brother, but you were too worried about Aelor's reaction. You had always feared that once he learned the truth of his parentage, he would hate Aemond, Aegon, and you for killing his birth mother. "You weren't born of me" you started walking towards them "But that doesn't make me love you less than your brothers. You will always be my son" you affirmed as you gently caressed his face.

"You promise?" the boy asked, still not sure. Yesterday Baelon had no problem playing with him and today he seemed to hate him. Grandma had days when she seemed to love him and others when she barely tolerated him. The same with his uncle Egg from him, he sometimes stared at him with deep sadness. What if one day they tell you something and make you stop loving it?

"I promise" you kissed his forehead "How could I stop loving you when you're one of the best huggers around?" you said managing to make Aelor smile. You snatched it from your husband's lap and started tickling him causing the room to fill with the boy's outrageous laughter. You were sure anyone could hear it in the hallways but you didn't care. You just wanted your son to forget about the bad moment that happened.

Aemond looked at them with a smile. He would never stop being grateful to the gods for letting him survive the battle at Eyes God and he would never get tired of seeing you with their children. No matter what the interaction, you could be singing to them, reading to them, playing with them, or, like now, comforting your child. Every time he witnessed the bond between you and the children he always warmed his heart.

"Kepa, help," Aelor asked between laughs.

"I'm sorry, son. But I have a council meeting," Aemond said, drawing your attention.

"Wait, do we have a council meeting?" you stopped tickling your son and put him down instantly, worried that you had forgotten your duty "Aemond!" your husband had taken advantage of your moment of distraction to start tickling you and your son soon joined the attack "You liar" you complain between laughs.

"I'm sorry, my dear wife. But I couldn't let you continue torturing our son."

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[theold-ultraviolence]

Could you do what Aemond would be like reacting to y/n almost dying after giving birth to his daughter, but after a long fainting spell she manages to recover?

I really like your headcanons <3

Thank you so much for requesting and your interest in my oc's for Aemond's children!! Hope you don't mind I'm centering this around Elaena (the eldest). Also, thank you so much for your patience, I know this took me so long!! Words: 900. CW: dad!Aemond, pregnant!reader, little bit of angst, mentions of childbirth difficulties. Set in my 'Aemond's children' au. (but you don't have to read any of my rambles or hcs to understand this)

The Warrior Princess (drabble) • Aemond Targaryen x reader

When Aemond is high up in the skies with Vhagar, sometimes his ears start ringing because of the altitude, and his heartbeat accelerates in a way that makes him scared that his body won’t resist and he’ll end up falling from the safety of the dragon’s saddle.  

It’s the exact way he’s feeling at this moment, only he isn’t on dragonback, now a familiar thrill. He’s kneeling by your side as you give birth to your first child. A moment he always imagined to be blissful, despite the conventional nervousness of the meeting of your baby, of knowing the gender of the newest heir of the Targaryen bloodline. 

Instead, his heart feels as though it’s being twisted with an iron first inside his chest as you squeeze his hand and let out continuous guttural screams. There’s a brutality in childbirth he can compare to a battlefield, only worse. 

Because your body hasn’t been trained to endure battle. It’s easier to protect yourself with armor and a shield. There is no escaping the searing pain that’s coming from within you and he feels so helpless. 

He peppers sweet kisses to your forehead, brushes your drenched hair away from your face and neck, and cleans up the sweat dripping from your chest with a cloth – even if the midwives assisting the Maester insisted he leaves such tasks to them.

If anyone was going to offer you comfort it was him. He had sworn to you he was going to be with you all throughout the birth, unlike his ancestors before him, who waited patiently in the comfort of a faraway room – distanced from the blood and tears and guttural wails from their wives as they fought for their lives to bring heirs to the Kingdom.

There’s this lapse, amidst your cries, where you turn to look at him, and his blood turns cold.

His heart drops to his stomach and white noise engulfs the room. 

Your gaze is drooping, unable to focus on his face as you slur, “I don’t think I can do this…” 

“No, no, no, absolutely not. You can, dear love. You’re the strongest person I know, strongest of all the Seven Kingdoms.” He murmurs with conviction, fiercely gripping your hand – panicking when your hand feels languid in his, your head dropping to the side. 

He calls for you desperately, growling and squeezing your cheek to wake you up. 

It’s the stuff of his worst nightmares. 

Your skin is cold and clammy, your beautiful eyes closed with a certain finality. 

He turns to the Maester with fury blazing in his eye. 

The Maester quickly leans into your frame to check for your pulse and visibly relaxes. “Your lady wife is alright, Prince Aemond. She’s just fainted. But we need to proceed quickly or the child will be endangered.” 

Suddenly he’s being ushered out of his spot beside you, as the midwives who assist the Maester crowd around you to bring you back to consciousness.  

He’s going to collapse, he’s certain. 

It’s a moment that lasts mere seconds – and in that rush of time, the worst images flood through Aemond’s mind. 

He cannot deal with a life without you, he’d rather die. 

This he repeats over and over until his intrusive thoughts are cut by a loud gasp as you wake up in great need of air. 

Aemond’s ears ring again, and the whole room spins.

He hears the ruckus of the birthing room all distorted and remote as if he’s underwater. 

He staggers to reclaim his position behind you, taking your hand once more, even if his grip is weaker than before. He cannot compare his pain to your own, but still, he’s feeling delirious. 

Time moves in slow-motion, as he turns to look towards the Maester kneeling in between your legs, declaring, “Dear lady, we’re nearly there. Just one more push!” 

You arch back with a jarring scream as you make one last attempt to push – when suddenly, your screams intermingle with the high-pitch wails of your baby. 

“A girl, your majesty.” The Maester announces, “From the fight that this little one put her mother through, it seems as though you’ve given birth to a warrior princess.” 

The babe is cleaned up and swaddled with nothing but the softest, finest of linens before she’s handed down to Aemond – whose arms shake with a mixture of relief and happiness as he welcomes his daughter into the world.

Aemond smiles down at the chubby little angel with silvery hair and a flushed face, leaning down so that you could see your daughter. 

“My darling girl…” your voice is hoarse, and you look ready to slip into an unbothered sleep for all the moons to come. Still, you smile tiredly before blessing your daughter with her name. “Elaena…” 

“Our warrior princess." Aemond strokes her soft cheek, heart swooning over the sensation of skin as soft as silk. "I’ve got a feeling her arrival is a preamble of what awaits us as she grows. A feisty little lady she’ll be,” Aemond fondly murmurs, relief washing over him once he sees you calm at last. 

You nod, before falling asleep once you’ve been cleansed and accommodated into clean sheets. 

Aemond can finally ease, as the worst passes, and none of his biggest fears had come through. He thanks The Seven as he rocks his baby in his arms, sitting by the fire as you sleep. Praying that if the Gods have truly blessed him with a warrior of his own, that she’ll be great and fearless, always protected in her fights.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #dad!aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond targaryen blurb #reader insert #fanfiction #drabbles #my writing #ewan mitchell #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond's children

[lovelykhaleesiii]

OK I HAVE MORE!

so first of all, FUCK YEAH CHONKY BABIES WITH AEGON! like my own belief is that babies are cute unless they are all chubby and cute and just imagine somebody going like 'oh they are his father's children' as a way to insult both children and father and you just cradle the child closer all proud because your babies are the pretties, how could they not be when they are made by you and their father, aegon!

also oh gods, so. like the appeal to me of chubby! aegon is the fact that as somebody low key insecure about their body, I do feel like I'd just feel understood and also I don't know, I love words of affirmation but the physical proof that this man wants you? I... ugh... so, so freaking hot. like, you mention that maybe that dress isn't for you and he is like fucking you in it because, of course you are perfect in anything if anything that dress isn't deserving of your pretty body.

ALSO YEAH! a nice time in the garden with you trying to be composed because THAT IS VERY MUCH IN THE OPEN, AEGON, your mother's window literally is right over this spot! and also the annoyance at him ripping your dress but also you'd be lying if you said that you don't find it sexy and the urgency that mars his features and the knowledge that he'll keep to his promise to buy you a prettier one because he takes such a good care of you.

and oh gods, I feel like that take onto aemond wanting to leave something behind to you is so good! but also so angsty because he also doesn't want to be like his father and neglecting his son and low key he leaves behind letters in the case, he won't come back to his son, while you sleep after you are fully satisfied.

omg y/n & Aegon’s babies would be the prettiest! perfect mixture of your features and his!!! I would cherish my chunky babies with Aegon so fucking much. I’m not even maternal but the way I’d be so protective over them just like Nyra is with her boys UGHHHHH Aegon just would melt though seeing you cradling and holding his chonky babies!!! He hates how much pain you endure when you give birth tho, cause fuck that would hurt, but you’d do it all over again for him 🥺

yeah I just think he’d be so soft (physically and mentally) he’d be so insecure but overtime he’ll learn to appreciate himself & even use his mass against you (if you know what I mean). I think for me, I just generally am attracted to bigger / taller guys, LOVE A DAD BOD cause I’m a little bit of thicc girl myself 🤭 and I feel like just their body, the idea that they can protect and you feel so secure in their arms makes me feral.

Aemond 🤝 Angst … our poor bubba, he REFUSES to be anything remotely like Viserys. if he hears you’re pregnant, he’d definitely aim to come home in one piece after every battle. he’s switches into a lethal machine when it comes to his family with you.

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aegon ii targaryen asks #aemond targaryen asks #chubby!Aegon ii #dad!Aegon ii #dad!Aemond

[afictionalwhor3]

Our Little Family

Dad!Aemond has been in my head for weeks. I didn't even find him attractive during the show, and of course I came to Tumblr and they changed my mind. So here's a little blurb of soft dad!aemond content.

Word Count: 596

Warnings: None

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Aemond knew that he was supposed to want sons. They would carry on the family name, they could inherit your lands, and they could honor you in war. But as soon as he laid eyes on his little girl, with her silver hints of hair, he knew that this was the biggest blessing he could ever ask for.

"Okay but kepa, how come uncle Aegon said I can't hold a sword, but I almost hold it better than him," Viserra asks as she walks with her father through the halls of the Red Keep. He holds her small hand in his. Despite her young age, she questioned things grown ladies are afraid to say out loud.

"Well, one thing is you should never listen to anything uncle Aegon says," Aemond says making his daughter giggle. He gets down on one knee to make himself eye level with her. "And secondly, there are going to be a lot of people who say there are things you can't do just because you are a lady. And to that I say, they must not have a daughter as fierce as mine. Because my little dragon can do whatever she puts her mind to" He says kissing the top of her head.

"Look what I found," You smile your voice carrying down the hallway. The two of them look at you and Viserra runs in your direction. She laughs as her silver curls fly wildly behind her. You bend down and when she gets to you, you pick her up kissing all over her face.

"Muna!" She yells laughing and you laugh with her groaning at her weight. Aemond stands up and walks over slowly so he can watch you two. A rare smile takes over his face as he watches the two most important women in his life.

"I know you're excited but you can't yell my love. We talked about this," You say standing up and looking at her.

"Well kepa said that I can do anything I put my mind to," She says as you raise an eyebrow at Aemond when he finally reaches you.

"She took that out of context," He says as you glare at him and he sighs in defeat. You smile and kiss him with Viserra sticking her tongue out. It's your turn to glare at her and she smiles.

"Well, since you can in fact do whatever you put your mind to. Can you put your mind toward food? I'm sure thinking so hard takes a toll on such a little body" You say and she nods.

"Well, can kepa come?" She asks as you look at him skeptically. Aemond keeps a stoic look on his face as you hum,

"Yes. He may join us." You say with a smile and he kisses you resting his forehead on yours,

"Thank you, lady wife. I will forever be in debt to you. How can I ever repay you?" He asks looking at you.

"You already have," You say with a smile placing Aemond's hand on your stomach which would be getting significantly bigger soon. He looks at you his eyes wide and you nod your head holding back tears. Viserra rests her head on your shoulder ignorant of the information both her parents just learned. Aemond squeezes your waist and presses a searing kiss to your lips. He rests his chin atop your head overwhelmed with so many emotions. In this quiet hallway of the Red Keep, you enjoyed this intimate moment with your little family that was about to get a little bigger.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #dad!aemond #aemond x wife!reader #aemond x black!reader

[dreamfyrie]

just thinking about aemond as a dad holding his baby and they’re always trying to take off his eyepatch and play with it and eventually he just gives up and lets them have it

#aemond targaryen #hotd #dad!aemond #aemond targaryen au

[lya-dustin]

Let's build a fic y'all

#aemond one eye #aemond x reader #dad!aemond #aemond x braavosi!fem!reader #hotd fic #build a fic