#dear jealousy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonflower91 · 1 year

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I know you’ve answered a similar question on if Saerah would intentionally rile Aemond up by flirting with other guys in front of her, but seriously, I love the idea of her openly being playful, little smirk and all, just to get a reaction from him.

I don’t know if you do requests at the moment, but I’d love a one-shot of a young lord or knight who’s recently arrived in the capital, so isn’t aware of Princess Saerah being off limits and he begins being openly flirtatious with her and she goes with it to amuse herself and just for Aemond to end up scaring the hell out of him later on with a Tywin style deathstare.

I know I’ve also answered it before, and I’m gonna kinda contradict myself, but Saerah is a little shit and I can definitely see her flirting just to be a brat and watch her oh-so serious and controlled Aemond squirm. especially in a world where there is no war or conflict and they can afford to be silly and dumb.

And yes! I’ll write this out for sure!

A/N: This takes place in an alternate timeline where Saerah kept her mouth shut during her time on Driftmark about Rhaenyra's sons and therefore was not sent away.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was splendid. The walls adorned with banners from House Targaryen and House Hightower, the torches and candles suspended from above, lighting the dim hall so that the guests of the King and Queen might dance and laugh and eat and drink long into the night.

It was the harvest feast, and with the birth of the newest of Rhaenyra’s gaggle of children, the king thought it the perfect time to host an elaborate feast. No matter that the woman who they toasted was still on that damp rock, Dragonstone.

Just as well. Saerah could not stomach the thought of those plain faced, dark haired bastards in the Red Keep, nor their trueborn cousins, Baela and Rhaena. Not after what they'd done to Aemond.

She would have her home melted down than to have to suffer those self important cunts.

Saerah had chosen a lilac gown for the evening, a compliment to her eyes while her sweet Aemond had forsaken his black garb in favor of a dark green. He was so handsome, and Saerah wished she could see how his sapphire would gleam in the light, and wondered if it would flash at her from across the room so she could always know Aemond was there.

The king had begun talking again of betrothing her, her mother said. When Alicent had mentioned it the other morning as they broke their fast together, Saerah had huffed in annoyance. She felt almost cornered being confronted with such news, insulted even.

When they were small, she had heard rumors (mostly from passing serving girls gossiping, or from a nursemaid who was pondering the notion more than anything), that the king was considering betrothing her to Aemond, her twin brother. She had been very young, then, and the news had passed by her with all the dull acceptance of a child being told that the sky was blue.

It was not news to her that she'd spend her life next to Aemond, not to her four year old mind.

There had never been a word contrary, not even when it was announced that Aegon would wed Helaena.

But afterwords, before her eldest brother had even sobered up from the wedding feast, a name reached her ears, attached closely to her own.

Lord Viktor Tyrell.

"A fine match indeed, my queen." the king had rasped within the Small Council chambers once it was suggested. The House of the Dragon was already bound together by Helaena and Aegon. It only made sense to utilize their other children's marriage prospects and strengthen their family if they were bound by oath to other houses.

House Tyrell was rich, their harvests had fed thousands in King's Landing. Their daughter would be Lady of the Reach, a title many maidens coveted, but few ever earned.

Saerah wanted none of it.

Ladies seemed to be divided on their desires, she’d noticed. Some wanted the freedoms of a man while others longed for status and love and a quiet life.

Saerah longed only for the freedom to marry Aemond. Glory, power, children could all come next.

“I won’t have him.” She had declared once her mother came to her with an official proposal. Lord Tyrell had not yet declared his intentions, but the Crown would have to be blind not to see the offer creep ever closer. Others began their decent as well—Lannister, Tully and Stark—but the Tyrell’s were the first to make contact.

“Saerah…” her father grumbled. “It is a good match. A smart one.”

“It is one I don’t. Want.” She replied. "If you force me, I shall scream my protest all through the Keep. I'm sure Aemond will run the man through if I ask him to."

Viserys had left it at that, resolute that his youngest daughter was in the midst of the streak of rebellion his eldest daughter had. Her fires would dampen soon enough and she would marry and be content as Rhaenyra.

While the king was blind to the true nature of all his children, the entirety of the keep was not. None could mistake the way Aemond watched his sister for brotherly protectiveness. The way Saerah drifted to his side during feasts and tournaments and Court. The guards breathed not a word of how often Aemond went to his twin’s chambers long after the torches were guttered.

Had they been lower in station, they'd have been pariahs, the gossip floating through the air with ease and delight as a thousand eyes watched eagerly for their ruin.

But none would dare invoke the one eyed princes' wrath. And to insult his lady would bring the mad ferocity of a dragon down upon them.

When it came to the princess, Aemond's thirst for retribution knew no bounds, and shortly after their four and tenth name day, every man in the Keep knew that Saerah was so far beyond their reach, that to attempt it was madness. Some young knight from the Crownlands had pleaded for the girl to grant him her favor during their name day tourney.

Saerah had graciously given it and wished the lad good fortune, her brother's eye keenly watching the man below, fingers gripping the arm of his seat until the wood began to creak. Aemond hated tourneys and would not lower himself to be made a spectacle for the enjoyment of fools, and so he waited until the feast later that night to strike.

The knight had walked with a limp the next morning, but none noticed, too distracted by the mess of his face, and the three fingers missing from his sword hand. He never named who had done it, but they all knew, even without seeing the state of Prince Aemond's knuckles.

\ \

Aemond had gone to speak with Aegon at the royal family's table at the base of the Iron Throne, while Saerah mingled with some of the ladies of the Court.

Unknown to her, was that she was being watched. Ser Wendyll Rosby was a second born son, but the one thing he could proudly claim was the skill he possessed with a sword, and the charm that ladies said dripped from his tongue like the sweetest of wines.

His brown eyes were drawn to the princess, a vision in her lilac gown, her hair falling in silver waves from the braids woven behind her head. She was as beautiful as they said, her smile lighting up her face, her laugh rivaling the music sweeping warmly through the hall.

She must have a hundred suitors vying for the chance to claim her hand, he thought, watching as she gestured as she spoke, the ladies around her listening attentively as their princess regaled them. So infatuated, he did not even find it passing strange that the princess remained unmarried, when so many ladies her age were wedded, bedded and swollen with child.

But as Ser Wendyll watched the princess, a soft smile pulling his lips, Prince Aemond watched him, his keen eye darting between his twin and the man admiring her, rage bubbling in his gut. He did not recognize the brown haired, brown eyed man who gaped at his sister like a simpleton. He was a stranger, and obviously did not know that Saerah was his.

For men, marriage was not a deterrent for them. Many men gawked at married ladies and some even took them to bed. But not for Saerah. Weather or not Saerah was his wife, no other man would dare disrespect her by watching after her with lustful intent.

"Ser Criston beat a man to death during our sister's wedding feast." Aegon recalled, a slight slur to his words as a grin pulled at his lips. Aemond's gaze flickered back to his elder brother, before settling on the fool gawking at his twin. "You ought to outdo her. I suggest a good gutting would eclipse Rhaenyra's wedding day spectacle. Just don't get anything on Saerah's gown. She'd hate that, and then she'll complain to Helaena, and then it will eventually pass to me."

"Shut up, Aegon." Aemond murmured, fingers tapping against the table, his fist clenching when he saw the fool gather up his courage and approach Saerah.

\ \

"Princess." a soft voice came from behind her, a male voice she did not recognize. Turning her head to see who had spoken, Saerah's voice left her. He was very handsome--tall, dark haired, dark eyed, a beard coming in on his cheeks and jaw. She did not recognize his face. She would've remembered a face so fine. "Might I say you look beautiful this evening?"

Saerah giggled. "You may say it as often as you like, ser..."

"Wendyll, princess. Wendyll Rosby."

"Ser Wendyll Rosby. I have not met you before."

"I have lived my life away from Court, princess. As a boy, I was fostered in Nightsong, in the stormlands. I loved it there, so I simply did not leave."

"Why come back now?"

"I came in search of a wife." He replied, his soft brown eyes watching her with such a tenderness that she wanted to squirm, the implication much too apparent to ignore entirely. Unthinking, her eyes flashed to where her brothers sat at the table, a flare of delight surging within her to see Aemond watching them, his hand clenched tightly on the table.

"I see." she hummed, a little grin pulling at her lips. "Are there no suitable ladies in Nightsong?"

"None I would like to call my own." He smiled. "Might I be so bold as to ask the princess for a dance?"

"Your boldness had rewarded you this night, ser. I shall happily dance with you."

\ \

"It is a shame father keeps her unmarried." Aegon mused as he and Aemond watched as the unfamiliar man led their Saerah out to dance. "I imagine this one is the first of many." a smirk played on his lips, hidden by his wine cup. "Bet that bothers you, brother."

Aemond did not dignify the statement with a reply, continuing to watch the two as they glided around each other, his rage mounting higher. Saerah must know he was watching. She must.

"Seven hells, why don't you just pay off a damned septon and wed her? Who would deny you? It isn't like any man here would look twice at her." Aegon sat straighter, a drunken surge of brotherly indignance for their sister surging within him. "Really, it's cruel more than anything. That girl's bed is cold and empty because her lover's resolve is as soft as an old man's cock. Or, mayhaps, he wants all the perks of a married man but none of the bother." he suggested, a giggle on his lips as he took another drink of wine.

That brought Aemond's attention back to Aegon, his jaw clenching tight. "You've drunk too much, Aegon. Again. Do you really think the empty words of a septon will make my match with Saerah any more true?" Aegon shrugged, that look of drunken glee still on his face. Aemond hated it and snatched the cup from his brother's hand, tossing it's red contents to the floor. Aegon gave an affronted shout, but it went on a hundred deaf ears. "She's been mine, as I have been hers since the day we were born." With that, he stood, his chair screeching.

\ \

The dance came to a graceful end, and Saerah let the young knight escort her away from the new wave of courtiers who were inspired to dance by their princess.

“I must say, my princess, your dancing skills are impeccable." Ser Wendyll complimented, their feet coming to a stop well away from the others.

"Is that why you asked me to dance, my lord?" she asked sweetly. "To assess my skills?" It felt exhilarating to flirt this way, and she could not really understand why. But she hoped Aemond saw, hoped he saw and doubled his efforts to convince their king to wed them to each other. Or, perhaps he'd be inflamed, and come to her and ravish her as he'd done when that knight had asked for her favor. They'd been younger then, and though they'd gone no farther than kissing and sleeping next to one another, the strength and fire Aemond had shown her had inflamed her like nothing else. She longed to feel it again, to experience it fully as a woman grown ought to.

Saerah's eyes flashed to Aemond's, wickedly pleased to find him gone from his seat with Aegon. He would not abandon this feast without her, and she knew somewhere in this sea of faces and fabrics, he'd find her again. Yes, let him watch and burn and strike and show them all that I will not marry anyone else.

Ser Wendyll smiled, appearing almost shy. "I asked you to dance, my princess, because you are the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure to gaze upon. And I would never have forgiven myself if I did not at least try to earn a dance with the fairest maiden in the Realm."

Saerah's cheeks heated. "You flatter, ser."

"I speak only the truth." Saerah regarded him, his face holding no falsehood, and another surge of excitement gripped her belly, wringing it out like a wet rag. How sweet this would be, when Aemond came and took her and solidified his claim. Their father be damned.

Taking Saerah's reserved silence for appreciation, Ser Wendyll stepped forward, close enough that Saerah could feel his body heat. "Sweet princess, I would crown you with a garland of roses at the next tourney. Oh, please, princess, say you shall accept. I shall not offer it to any other. Not even the Maiden herself can claim half the beauty. you possess." His voiced was honied, earnest and lustful and Saerah might have accepted, just to dig her teeth in a little deeper to both the fool before her and her lover. But, Aemond appeared like a specter behind her, voice soft and cold and enraged. Dangerous, a dragon ready to breathe flame.

"She doesn't care for tourneys." He murmured, walking forward from the shadows. He'd heard the entire pathetic plea. He wished he could take Saerah into his arms and take her against the nearest pillar, just to show this little pup what he may never have the pleasure of doing. Saerah made such sweet sounds in the midst of her pleasure, her body squirmed so beautifully, trying to take more and more and more. Insatiable, greedy, sweet Saerah. All his, only his. "It's farce. She thinks it s a hollow, pathetic display, lacking of any real talent."

Ser Wendyll's irritation spiked at the appearance of the one eyed prince. While the Realm named Saerah a jewel, they called the one eyed prince ruthless and cruel and calculating. Once or twice he'd heard someone wonder if he even had the normal feelings of a man.

"The princess is quite well spoken, Your Grace." Ser Wendyll bit out as kindly as he could.

"Aye, she is." Aemond murmured softly, his eye studying his twin's profile, while his hand crept from her lower back and to around her waist. Ser Wendyll watched the princess' face for indications of disgust--hoping it would be there, but Saerah only smiled and tilted her head. And when her forehead brushed the one eyed princes' neck, while his jaw rubbed along her forehead, Ser Wendyll suddenly felt every bit the fool they deemed him as.

"I hate tourneys." the princess confirmed softly, her lilac eyes (eyes he had thought so soft and gentle), piercing him like a needle.

Ser Wendyll's brown eyes flickered back to Aemond's hand, which slowly crept over the expanse of the princess' midsection. Had Prince Aemond been a common man, he'd have challenged him to a duel--not even for the damned woman who pit them against each other, but for the sheer insult he'd been dealt by the two lovers before him. In fact, it would have been the sweetest justice to watch the princess weep over her brother and lover, dead and brutalized beneath his hands and sword.

It was the gods' ultimate injustice that Aemond was a prince.

"And I hate these feasts." Wendyll murmured hatefully, throat bobbing as he pinned the princess with his dark stare. "I hate farces as well, princess. In fact, the last I was caught in a farce, nothing could stop me from retaliating."

"Oh." Saerah hummed, her eyes widening in a mocking sort of surprise. "Well I your wounded pride came back stronger than before, if such a slight wounded you so."

"What else do you hate, boy?" Aemond asked lowly, his lilac narrowing, a taunting smirk playing on his lips. Wendyll knew the prince would have no greater joy than having an excuse to spill his guts onto the floor.

"Undue quarrels." Wendyll replied evenly. Hmm, Aemond thought, not a very clever one. "Quarrel has no space in the life I intend to build, nor the tourneys I want to compete in." His brown eyes flashed back to Saerah, and although there was no rageful challenge there, she knew the knight before her would not forget the slight before him.

"Neither does ours. We intend to have a peaceful life." Saerah smiled cuttingly, her hands coming to rest over her twins' at her waist.

"Very good." The knight bit out, eyes shifting between the two, rage mounting. "May you both have lasting marriages. Excuse me, princess." he seethed, brushing past them.

A beat passed, Saerah's mouth spreading into a wide smile as Aemond's arm curled around her middle to pull her close to his side, her breasts tight against his side. It was as clear a display of ownership as any.

"At least you didn't cut off any fingers this time." Saerah smiled up at her twin, breath catching as he gripped the ends of her hair to yank her head back.

"My darling." Aemond murmured, his hands coming to cradle her face, tilting her head up so she could meet his eye with her own. "The night has only just started."

(How Saerah's night definately ended off)

#I’m on the way dear!#lol #game of thrones #asoiaf #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x oc!sister #saerah targaryen #aemond targayten x reader #fanfiction #jealousy

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