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Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 12)

Aemond Targaryen x You – Chapter 1

Word count: 4943 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Sexual content, misogyny, dub-con (kind of)

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Chapter 12: Tenderness

Unlike Aemond, who also spoke Valyrian, you were only fluent in apologies. So, when the Prince found you in the corner of the Keep’s Kitchens, where you hid amidst the many servants cleaning after the Feast, drinking yourself to obscurity, it was unsurprising that “I am sorry” is the first sentence you spoke. And the second, and the third, and so on.

After running away from the Great Hall, embarrassing yourself in front of so many, you could not bear to return to your chambers. You should have, but you had felt overwhelmed and restless. The idea of haunting your room, with only your embarrassing memories of the day keeping you company, scared you. It was illogical, you were aware, but you also had the privilege of knowing where plentiful of honey wine was stored, and of being in the good graces of the individuals who warded it. Hence, you found yourself drinking and being a quiet participant of the gossip between servants.

The matron of the Kitchens, Myna, was a gaunt woman who had served the Targaryens for decades, and the two of you had gotten along well. Though you were not friends per se, as such a relation would be frowned upon, you did get along well, and she used to be your previous supplier of your sleeping elixir, back when you relied upon it many moons ago. Like many at the Keep, she had a vague understanding of your circumstances and was empathetic. You reminded her of her daughter, a girl around your age, who now worked in a brothel, finding her mother’s servitude to be a worse fate. Likewise, you empathised with Myna and always went out of your way to show her kindness, something she had little experience with in her life.

After you had fled the Great Hall, there was many whispers about what had happened, but the drinking and revelry continued, for your presence was a mere moment of entertainment. Despite his Queen Alicent’s pleas, who had asked for her son to stay, Prince Aemond Targaryen left the Feast in search of you, meanwhile the Lord Cregan Stark stayed, for he did not know where even to look.

When you had left, the two men stared after you in silence. The Lord of Winterfell waited for the Prince to speak ill or hit him – anything to allow the Northman to retaliate, to chase after you, for his honour stopped him from being the aggressor. But the one-eyed Prince did no such thing, instead opting to pretend that the Stark Lord did not even exist, mere dirt under his boots.

No one in the Hall knew what Aemond Targaryen was thinking, but at that moment, all the Heads of Houses in the Seven Kingdoms understood that you, a nameless girl who happened to be Helaena’s Lady-in-Waiting. They understood that you were someone important to the unliked Targaryen Prince, and this was only affirmed after he chased after you, despite his Queen Mother’s pleas. So, for the rest of the night, fomenting conversations regarding how this revelation could be weaponised was whispered between some men and women in attendance.

Prince Aemond Targaryen searched the Keep in search for you for a second time that day, and this had irritated him greatly. Why was it always so bloody difficult for him to find you? When the one-eyed Prince finally spotted your loyal knight, who followed you everywhere, Aemond Targaryent let out a breath of relief. The blonde did not expect you to seek refuge at the Kitchens, though he should have, because upon seeing you drinking out of a wine jug, he realised that you had an unfortunate inclination towards drinking, not too dissimilar to that of his older brother.

It did not help that you didn’t even register the Targaryen Prince’s arrival, despite the sudden silence of the room, with all except you freezing. Upon entering, he found you quietly sat at one of the tables, with a hand on your face, as though you were about to fall asleep. It took being loudly called out by your name to rouse your wake.

“Aemond!” You jump to your feet and hug him affectionately.

Your lack of formal greeting was not missed, and the servants around quickly began retreating out of the room, fearing the Prince’s retaliation if they were to hear or view something he would prefer to keep private. This was as the Prince expected, so when a hunched frail servant greeted him, asking for you to be taken care of, this vexed Aemond, who dismissed the woman with an irritated tone.

Annoyed, the one-eyed Prince does not return your embrace. This confused you, and as you looked up to see silent anger in his expression, you suddenly start sobbing, your emotions as unstable as your balance. Pulling away, you begin apologising profusely, though you were not sure what for. You felt as though everything you had ever done in your life was wrong, and that you not only needed to apologise to Aemond, but to everyone else – your family, Lord Cregan, Queen Alicent, Jayse, Lord Wylde, Lord Baratheon, his daughter Flora, Queen Helaena, King Aegon, the children, everyone! You felt like your very existence has brought so much suffering, and that you were better off not existing.

This was your train of thought, and you were so intoxicated that you were not aware that you began rambling your thoughts through your sobs, which dampened Aemond’s fury. He was angry with you and wished to tell you this, yet he could not be when you were in this state. All he could do was to pull you back in and hold you as you cried, not saying anything, because there was no point, as you were not sober. Once your sobbing lessened, he wiped away the tears on your face with the back of his hand and began caressing your head, which seemed to help you calm down.

Taking care of drunk people has never been something Aemond Targaryen was fond of, but you were a better drunk than Aegon was. For one, you did not try to fuck every single person in sight, nor did you spew offensive bullshit. And once you were done crying, you were actually pleasant, in that you were simply quiet. Or at least you were pleasant, until you began chundering.

You felt depleted as the blonde held you, and though his actions were comforting, you felt wrong, or rather, something felt wrong in you. You had felt dizzy for some time, and now, a disagreeable sensation began to swim in your stomach. Feeling physically overwhelmed, you completely pushed yourself away from the Prince, only to turn around and lean over, heaving the contents of your stomach.

This was the first time drinking has brought you to this state, and perhaps it was the mixing of different wines, or the copious amount you had, but you could not stop yourself, nor feel anything other than nauseousness.

Though initially taken aback by the abrupt shift in your state, Aemond swiftly stepped towards you without second thought, collecting your long hair behind you whilst slowly rubbing your back in circular motions. This was the role he was used to taking with his family, the supportive brother who took care of his siblings and mother, the one that looked after them, protected them, even from themselves at times. Though initially annoyed, Aemond Targaryen realised that he did not mind looking after you.

You on the other hand, felt completely mortified, for having let yourself become reduced to this state, and in front of Prince Aemond no less. So, through brief lulls between your churning, you kept uttering apologies, to which Aemond now dismissed in acceptance, telling you that you have nothing to apologise for.

“I am sorry, Aemond.” You would have to stop to churn. “I really am. Please leave me be. Let me die like this, it’s the least I deserve.”

Your begging only serves to humour the Prince, who could not help but chuckle, as your reaction was funny, yet he still worried. Once you seemed to have emptied your stomach, the Prince helped you straighten, put one of your arms around his shoulders, and put a hand around your waist, steadying you.

“Come. We should get you to sleep.”

Without asking, the one-eyed Prince escorted you to his chambers. Though he was sure that you would have preferred your own, he wanted to be there to make sure you were safe, and his quarters lacked the presence of pestering lords and ladies. He could have asked Ser Landor to watch over you as you slept, but the notion of having another man taking care of you, made him want to knife said man.

Anyhow, if you had any objection, you were unable to voice it, as you were almost entirely reliant on Aemond for physical support. The hallways were empty, except for the knights on watch, and when the Prince silently slipped you into an unfamiliar room, you understood that it was his. You were more lucid now, having sobered up from throwing up so much alcohol, and you were too exhausted to protest when you realised that you were being escorted not to your chambers, but to his.

As the two of you entered, it was dark, yet you could still see that it was a room befit for a Targaryen Prince. Against the moonlight, you could see that the chambers was opulent, and what immediately caught your eye was the faint outline of massives shelves stocked with countless of volumes.

Upon entering the room, Aemond had set you down on a soft divan, and you immediately sank into it when he let you go. You silently watched him as he then proceeded to light the fireplace before you, as well as some candles around. He also entered a door near his wardrobe (which you presume is his bathing room), and returned with a metal bucket, which he placed near your feet.

It was odd watching the Prince complete such mundane tasks. The idea of it was humorous really, and it was amusing enough that you could not help but let out a quiet laugh when he handed you a glass of water. You expected the Prince to be find offence and get angry with you, but he did not, instead tucking a loose strand behind your ear and pressing the glass against your mouth when you did not take it from his hand.

“Drink.” Aemond demanded, and you obeyed, taking small sips while watching him.

As you stared at him, you could not help but feel affection towards him. You could not comprehend how this was the same person you met on the balcony at the Summer Solstice Festival almost a year ago. That person was a cruel Prince who had found joy in your agony, or so you thought. How could that be the same person standing before you now, looking after you?

You think about kissing him, or rather yearn for it. But you were lucid enough to know that it would be disgusting after your churning, so you restrain yourself, and pull back, wrapping an arm around yourself.

“Thank you.” You say in earnest. The Prince hums in approval, before seating himself down next to you. You watch attentively as begins removing the outer layer of his clothing, tossing it onto the table before you, as well his eye mask, which you see he does so apprehensively. When he faces you, you wonder whether he would find it repulsive if you touched him.

Against the auburn glow of the fireplace, Aemond’s sapphire glowed brilliantly, and you could not look away. Pressing your lips together, you remove your shoes and tuck your feet underneath you, so that you can turn and face him completely. Unconsciously, a hand moves slowly towards his face, and as it does, the Prince closes his eyes, which makes you frown. This reminds you of your night together at your family home, and you do what you did back then as well, and run your hands onto his hair, gently grasping the tie around his hair and softly pulling it away, letting blonde strands fall to his face. Aemond however does not open his eyes this time, which frustrates you.

“Are you angry with me?” You ask, your voice brim with apology. Aemond shakes his head, but keeps his eyes closed.

“… then why won’t you even look at me?”

Sighing, the Prince Aemond opens his eyes regretfully, and stands, facing away from you, towards the fire place. As you stare at him from behind, you cannot help but feel hurt. This was so much worse than his anger, because his reaction right now felt justifiable, like you deserve it. Desperate for reconciliation, you walk up to him, and grasp his hands together, begging him to look at you.

“Please, Aemond. Just say something. Please.”

Aemond Targaryen has never been able to refuse you before, no matter how much he wished otherwise, and pressed his lips before speaking your name, before speaking plainly.

“You have me, but I have never had you.”

Your eyes furrow in confusion, not understanding what he was saying, not understanding him. This makes you contemplate whether you were still drunk, as his words make no sense, and upon seeing your confusion, Aemond felt himself madden. Letting out a hysterical laugh, the one-eyed Prince continued.

“My love, you possessed me the very moment we met, and I have felt cursed by your existence since then. Worst of all, I am to you but a passing fancy, someone you think you may like. You have called me cruel so many times, yet it is you that is cruel, entertaining other men, letting me in with the intention to leave me.”

Your eyes begin to water as you shake your head vehemently, unaccepting of this. You did not want to leave him, not anymore. But his proclamation is convincing, and you feel as though you have been slapped, as his claims are not entirely untrue. Though you did not allow your sister’s plans to manifest, you did happily dance with Lord Cregan in front of the whole of court and Aemond, and you did not feel apologetic for it.

“Just tell me this. Do you even care for me?”

Aemond’s coarse voice cracks, and you feel your tears fall, your heart aching in pain. You did care for him, so deeply you realise now, so why could you not admit it? You did care for him and you did not want anyone else.

Unfortunately, the Prince misinterpreted your silence. Shaking his head, Aemond removed himself from you, his face consumed with sadness, and walked towards the doorway. Seeing him leave scared you, and this fear helped you finally find the words to express how you feel.

“I love you.”

Your soft voice echoed throughout the chamber, forcing the Prince to halt. He does not turn to face you though, remaining silent, and you wonder whether you had misjudged him, whether what you felt was unrequited. Your tears have stopped, but the pain in your chest did not, so you closed your eyes, begin praying to the Seven that you could just will this entire night away.

Because of the deafening beating of your heart, you do not hear the Prince approach you, and are taken by surprise when you feel warm lips briefly press against yours. Opening your eyes, you see Aemond staring at you, with a sincere smile on his face.

Wordlessly, Aemond pulled you by the waist to his washing room, and you let him do with you as he pleased. You knew that you were in a revolting state, sweaty and foul in scent. The fact that he made no complaints was astounding to you. Thus, when he untied the back of your modest dress, you said nothing, and as he pulled it over your head, you said nothing as well. If you were confessing to a septa, you would admit that you actually enjoyed being taken care of like this.

Your body had been completely covered by your pink gown, concealing the many bruises and marks on your body left by the one-eyed Prince. But in your undergarments, this was again visible to Aemond, and he found himself tighten at the sight of it. Stood before you, you watched as his gaze travelled across your body, his fingers tracing over each mark. As he is a man after all, you expect him to take you, to do what a man does to wife or whore, so when he pulls away and begins drawing water into the bath, you are surprised.

“I am sorry that the water is cold. The water was drawn this morning, but I can fetch a servant for hot water.”

“There is no need.” You respond, wrapping your arms around yourself shyly. You felt exposed in front of Aemond, who was entirely clothed. When Aemond sees you do this, he frowns and approaches you. Or so you think, until he walks past you towards the door.

“I will be just outside. There is a towel and a tunic for you.”

Not waiting for your response, he leaves you alone in the room, shocking you. This was not as you expected, and you are left speechless.

After relieving yourself and rubbing your teeth with a rough linen cloth the Prince had laid out for you, you stripped yourself completely and entered the freezing bath.

It was much colder than you had anticipated, and you wondered whether it was because you felt heated from drinking so much. Or perhaps you had simply become spoiled by the luxury of warm baths at King’s Landing, something not customary back home. Nevertheless, you found yourself shivering in the water, unable to even begin to wash your hair. Defeated, you call out the Prince’s name, hoping that he would be willing to help you.

When he does not enter, you contemplate whether he did not want to help you, or he simply did not hear you. Taking a deep breath, you call out his name again, this time more loudly. You watched the door nervously, hoping he would come.

And he does, painfully slowly and cautiously, with his eyes glued to the ground. As he approaches you, you call out his name again.

“Aemond. You can look at me.” You say, your teeth chattering. Realising that you were shivering, the Prince immediately looks at you with worry, kneeling over the bath.

“I will call for hot water right away.” You grasp his hand with your wet ones before he can move away.

“There is no need. I will be fine.” Aemond’s brows cross with worry, but you ignore this.

“I will be fine. But can you help me?”

In the bath, you were sat in a hunched position. Though you were nude, the Prince could not entirely see your most intimate parts. But you felt bashful, for you were still a maiden after all, and the silence only made you feel more conscious. You felt a lifetime pass before the Prince finally nodded. Taking a breath, you let go of his hand, and wrap your arms around your knees, looking away from him, still shivering.

“My hair. I cannot get myself to wet it.”

Again, the Prince nods, before taking a small bucket near the bath, filling it with water. As he lifts it over your head, you close your eyes and take a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the assault of coldness. But nothing comes, so you open your eyes and see the Prince staring at you with apprehension, as though he was afraid of hurting you, and this irritates you greatly, so naturally you yell at him.

“Just do it!”

Suddenly, all the water drops on your head, and you feel as though someone had resuscitated you. Through your shivering, you begin to laugh maniacally, and as does Aemond, finding your laugh contagious. The only sound that echoes through the room is laughter, endearingly melodic.

As you continue laughing, you feel more water poured onto your hair, more gently this time, and a hand softly runs through your tangled locks. Wordlessly, Aemond grasps the soap near him, and begins massaging your hair with it, his movements providing you some warmth. Your eyes flutter as his fingers knead into your scalp, and the musky scent that overwhelms the bathing room is comforting, the smell of him you realise.

Eventually, your laughing has dies down now. As Aemond finishes rinsing the soap out of your hair, he begins to do the same to your body, carefully running water and soapy hands across, causing your breath to hitch. You watch him in anticipation, waiting for his mood to shift, for him to make the first move, but he does not. Instead, he attentively observes your body, illuminated by candlelight. He moves away your arms, exposing your chest for the first time, running hands smoothly across the swell of your breasts, and you feel yourself boil, not feeling the coldness of the water whatsoever. Aemond meanwhile remains neutral, and continues cleaning you, only staring at your body in silence.

When he finishes, you let out a cry out his name in surprise as he swiftly lifts you by your feet, wetting his clothing. He says nothing though, setting you out the bath, and grabbing the towel nearby, gently drying your hair and body with it. You watch his face carefully, for any betrayal of lust or emotion, but there is none. As he pulls a cotton tunic over your head, you break the silence.

“Thank you. Truly.” Aemond hums in approval, but still says nothing. Your hands then move to his shirt, dampened by the bathwater, and you hold the fabric. You felt sure that the wet cloth was unpleasant to wear.

“Can I?” You ask, and he nods again.

You then lift it over his head, struggling due to his height, yet he does nothing to help, instead endearingly grinning at you. When you finally manage to, you feel victorious, and as you stare at his sculpted chest, your fingers trace the lines and scars present. As you do, the Prince watches your face carefully, waiting for you to be disgusted and pull away. But you do not, and pull him into his chambers, onto his bed, never straying from him.

Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen’s oath ceremony was a somber affair, the mood completely different from last night’s Feast.

At noon on the following day, the Great Hall was now devoid of life. The Prince Jaehaerys, King Aegon II, the Hand and Prince Aemond stood in front of the Iron Throne, with countless lords and ladies kneeling before them, unfortunately with the exception of a few.

As you stood on the stone balcony, watching them along with the Queens and Jaehaerys’s siblings, you could not help but feel uneasy, especially as your brother, now the Lord of your House (you found out only that morning), and Lord Cregan Stark were some of the few that stood in protest. The silence in the room was suffocating, and as you glanced at the Queen Alicent, you could see the worry in her face. It was Lady Merryweather of Longtable who spoke up first when the King demanded all to kneel.

“House Merryweather has not forgotten how House Hightower stole our wealth only a few years back. You steal from our lands, and then you demand loyalty? Is that the way of the Iron Throne now?”

“The Iron Throne has not forgotten how House Merryweather supported my whore sister’s illegitimate claim. Instead, our House has offered forgiveness.”

King Aegon quickly responded, vehemently, his words echoing through the hallway. You had expected protest or negotiation, but wondered why they had decided to voice it now during the ceremony, not earlier. Nevertheless, Lady Merryweather’s proclamation had opened doubt in the room, and as you watched Prince Jaehaerys, a boy of only ten that you deeply cared for, you felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy, as he struggled to conceal his nerves.

“Forgiveness does not absolve that the King has made oath breakers of most in this hall.”

The Lord of Winterfell’s deep voice thundered through the Hall. The Starks were renowned for their virtue, so his argument did not surprise anyone present. Yet, you desperately wished the Northman did not speak, and could not understand why he had travelled all the way to King’s Landing if he did not intend to pledge fealty towards the young Prince. Even if they did not possess dragons, it would not be safe for him to be at King’s Landing if not as a sworn ally. Whether you worried for him because of your sister was of House Stark now, or because it was Cregan you worried for, you were unsure.

Following Lord Stark’s declaration, the Hall was deathly silent, and you could see fury manifest in the King. What the Lord of Winterfell had said was an truth, which was easy to ignore during the chaos that followed the death of Rhyaenyra Targaryen and her children. But now, when the Seven Kingdoms were at peace, this was not something easy to ignore.

As all present were guests, they were offered safety and the promise of no bloodshed, but if this issue would not be resolved, another war could be on the horizon, and the prospect of this made you worry. You unconsciously begin picking on the hem of your dress, a modest gown similar to what you had worn the previous night, but black in colour, with gold-threaded embroidery. You are reminded of something that Aemond had told you once before.

“History is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again.” The one-eyed Prince had told you that war is never truly over. Did he know this would happen even then?

“Lord Cregan, you may correct me if I am wrong, but was it not your ancestor, Torren Stark, the last King of the North, that voluntarily swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity, in exchange for his life and the life of the Northman.”

The one-eyed Prince’s voice echoed throughout the Hall, as he stepped forward, to face the Lord of Winterfell. Every word was calculating and callous, and the tone in his speech was venomous. Even a blind person could see that there was bad blood between the two.

“Yes.” Lord Cregan gritted between his teeth, jaws tightly clenched. As you watched the scene, you could feel your heart beating outside of your chest.

“Hm. An oath is an oath, and this particular one being in perpetuity. What does perpetuity mean, Lord Stark?”

When the Lord of Winterfell does not answer, merely glaring back, Prince Aemond smiles in malice, continuing his monologue.

“Perpetuity means forever, Lord Stark. Meanwhile, the oath your father swore to my father, towards my half-sister, died with him. I am aware that you swore an oath to brotherhood towards my bastard nephew, but did that not die with him as well?”

The Lord of Winterfell still says nothing, and Aemond decides to press on. “So many oaths. I would think that if one is going choose which oath to uphold, the oaths to the living should be prioritised over those of the dead.”

Again, the Lord of Winterfell remained silent, seething in anger, and this only served to embolden the wayward Prince. Turning to face the rest of the lord and ladies, Prince Aemond addressed them now as well.

“My Lords and Ladies. Conflicting pledges have been made throughout the war, but your generous King is willing to forgive, for the peace of the realm. Like Torren Stark, all of your ancestors had sworn oaths of loyalty towards the Targaryens, and now the only legitimate claim to the Iron Throne stands before you. Your future King stands before you. The question now, without any conflict or confusion, is whether you will promise to be faithful to King Aegon, second in his name, and his named heir, the Prince Jaehaerys. Or will you choose to become craven oath breakers instead.”

As you watched Prince Aemond command the room, you are reminded who Aemond really was; a cunning, calculating man, guileful in nature. And as you watched Lord Stark, Tommen and other remaining Heads of Houses kneel, you felt your feat of the one-eyed Prince resurface. Because Aemond had shown you tenderness, you had mistaken him to be tender, when this was far from the truth.

One-by-one, every Lord and Lady present, young and old, swore their oaths of fealty towards the King and Prince Jaehaerys, some more enthusiastic than others. When you finally tore your eyes from the scene and looked at Queen Helaena, you saw her watching expressionless, which saddened you greatly. You did not expect her to enjoy the affair, but had hoped that perhaps if it went smoothly, she would at least smile. Walking up to her, you do not touch her, as you knew her aversion to physical contact, but smile at her when she looks at you, which she hesitantly returns, and this relieves you.

As you turn back to observe the ceremony, your eyes meet Aemond’s, and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, as some boy Lord from the Reach pledges fealty. Under his scrutiny, you feel your nerves overwhelm you, yet you still force a smile, which he returns triumphantly.

Author’s Note: My brain literally feels like mush, so please be patient with me if it takes some time for the next chapter to be drafted. As always, I hope that you enjoyed, and that you are having a lovely weekend!

– Chapter 13

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